Please (14 page)

He saw where she was looking and smiled, that long, slow, sexy grin.

“
Turn around,” he said, his voice low and hoarse.

Elizabeth obeyed, pressing her hot cheek against the musty, cold stone of the church. The ethereal voices of the choir floated around them as Sebastian rolled her skirt up over her hips and plunged into her still slippery and throbbing hole. She could smell herself on him, a smell both feral and marine. The air nipped at her exposed flesh and the rough stone abraded her thighs as Sebastian pumped his hips against her. He came, fast and hard, crushing her hipbones against the wall, his fingers digging into her. With his face buried in her hair, he murmured her name and the choir sang hallelujah.

Chapter 8

The moment Elizabeth swiped the key to her room, her phone started ringing. Fortunately, Sebastian had gone to Duane Reade to get more condoms.

“
Hello?”

“
Elizabeth! Finally! Has your phone been off?”

It was her mother. Next to her kids, Connie
McCanna was the one person capable of making Elizabeth feel guilty about pretty much anything. Definitely not what she needed right now.

“
Yeah, sorry, Ma. The battery was dead,” Elizabeth lied. “I told you I was staying at the Mercer. You could have called the hotel.”

“
I
did
, dear,” her mother answered, managing to make the word ‘dear’ sound like a bitter reproach. “I left
several
messages.”

Elizabeth glanced at the phone on the desk, her eye homing in on
the tiny blinking red light. “Oh. Well. I’ve been out all day, so ... Ma, is something wrong? Is one of the kids sick? Or is the satellite TV on the fritz again? I told you to call the company if that happened again, remember?” Elizabeth wasn’t worried that it was anything serious. If it was, her mother would have contacted Steve, who would have had the hotel staff hunt her down to deliver the message personally. If there was one thing Steve was good at, it was crisis management.

“
Keenan broke his arm,” her mother stated, flatly, nothing to cushion the blow.

Elizabeth felt like she had the day after the big ice storm last January when she
’d slipped on the ice and fallen flat on her back, the wind knocked out of her. “Oh my God, Ma. Is he okay? What happened? Does Steve know? I’ll rebook my flight. I can probably be home by tonight.” Elizabeth’s mind was racing. Call Abbie back and cancel. Leave a message for Cullen. Sebastian. Oh, God, she thought, her heart sinking. Sebastian.

“
Get a hold of yourself, girl,” her mother said, sternly. “Keenan’s fine. There’s no reason to panic, and certainly no reason to take the name of the Lord in vain!”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and inhaled deeply, both relieved and annoyed.
“What happened, Ma?” she said, slowly, her emotions tightly reined in.

“
He got tripped at soccer practice yesterday,” her mother began.

“
Yesterday!” Elizabeth interrupted.

“
Now, don’t you take that tone with me, Elizabeth. I
tried
to get a hold of you! Remember?”

“
Right, right. I’m sorry, Ma. Go on.” Elizabeth winced, imagining the sickening crunch as her baby hit the ground, tripped by some thug, probably that Taylor Swensen, the ugly little troll.

“
It’s just a minor mid-fibular fracture. The cast will come off in a few weeks. Keenan cried more when he found out he’ll be spending the rest of the season on the bench than when the injury actually happened!” A little note of pride had crept into her mother’s voice.

“
Aw, poor sweetie,” Elizabeth’s eyes misted up. Soccer was Keenan’s life. “Will he be okay by the time the outdoor season starts?”

“
No reason why he shouldn’t.”

“
Good.” Physical activity was so important for Keenan and most other kids with ADHD. It was one area where their excess of energy was actually an advantage.

“
Now, Steve got called away on business just hours before this all happened, so I had to drag poor little Gwen along to Emergency with me. She was an absolute star while we were waiting, but she was up way past her bedtime, and my goodness but she’s a misery today.” Her mother said this in a way that let Elizabeth know that Gwen was nearby, listening. Sure enough, she heard Gwen’s tired whine in the background.

“
I’ll let you talk to your mother in a minute,” Connie snapped. “Sweet as sunshine most of the time, but she loses a few hours of sleep and that child would try the patience of a saint.”

“
Wait, you said Steve’s away?”

“
Mm-hm. Tucson, I think.”

“
But he knows about Keenan?”

Yep
. He’ll be back Friday night.”

“
Oh.” Elizabeth hesitated. “Do you want me to come back early?” Part of her wanted to rush home to comfort her injured son, but another, extremely selfish part of her did not want to leave Sebastian one minute sooner than she had to.

“
Oh, no dear.” Her mother dismissed the idea. “We’re fine here, now the crisis is over. You’re coming home in a couple of days, anyway.”

“
Okay. If you’re sure.” Elizabeth’s heart did a funny little leap. Just a couple of days, she thought.

“
I’m sure. But keep that darn phone charged up!”

“
I will,” Elizabeth said, hoping she didn’t sound as guilty as she felt. “Can I talk to Keenan?”

“
He’s over at Toby’s playing the x-box whosits.”

“
Oh. Good.” Elizabeth tamped down her disappointment. Of course, he had a life too.

“
But there’s a certain little miss on the verge of another conniption fit who would certainly like to talk to you,” Connie continued.

“
Oh, put her on,” Elizabeth insisted, her heart swelling with emotion.

“
Mommy?” Gwen’s croaky voice was so loud, Elizabeth had to hold the phone away from her ear.

“
Hi, sweetie. It’s me.”

“
Mommy, when are you coming home?” Gwen continued, her tone becoming accusatory. Elizabeth pictured her with one tiny fist on her hip. “Grammy won’t let me watch Disney or play with my finger paints. And she made me eat five carrots for lunch. She doesn’t know I’m only four.”

Elizabeth repressed a laugh. The problems of a four
year old, she thought. “Soon, honey,” she said, her feelings conflicted at the thought of leaving Sebastian and returning to Iowa. “Mommy’s coming home soon.”

*

“Lizzie!” Abbie called from her table in the corner, standing up and waving. Elizabeth felt the eyes of all the other patrons in the restaurant swivel from the source of the noise to her. Fortunately, this was New York, and since she wasn’t anybody, their glances barely flickered across her long enough to register this fact before returning to their plates of buffalo meatloaf and baby aubergines.

Making her way between the linen-covered tables, Elizabeth reflected that Canteen was several notches above the usual cheap but tasty ethnic fare
Abbie plied her with. Perhaps, with the whiff of potentially big money from her collaboration with Cullen, Elizabeth had moved up a level in Abbie’s roster of clients, like in an air-miles program. Perhaps Abbie now considered her, if not gold class, then at least silver. Or maybe, like Elizabeth in the lingerie shop, Abbie could smell the money that was almost hers and was just giving in to the urge to splurge.

But then again, Elizabeth thought, as she got closer to the table and saw that
Abbie was not alone, maybe not.

The woman sitting across from
Abbie radiated wealth. Her expensively maintained baby-blond hair was cut in a choppy shag and her pale gray leather jacket was tailored perfectly to her slim physique. She was a few years older than Elizabeth, she guessed, taking in the delicate webbing of lines around the woman’s eyes.

“
Hi,” Elizabeth said, not succeeding in keeping the question mark out of her voice. She included both Abbie and the woman in her smile. The blonde nodded her head and reciprocated with a smile that did nothing to conceal her obvious head-to-toe appraisal.

“
Lizzie! Hi, honey. Long time no see,” Abbie said, offering Elizabeth a chair. Elizabeth sat down before noticing that the table was set only for two.

“
Lizzie, this is Melanie Potsdam. She’s a senior agent at Creative Force Literary and Screen Management,” Abbie said, rising and placing one plump hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder.

Melanie extended her hand.
“Call me Mel,” she said, with that cool measuring smile.

Elizabeth shook Mel
’s hand, sure the confusion was evident on her face now. Why was Abbie introducing her to another agent? Was she being traded, like a baseball player, to a different team?

“
I’ve got to run, honey.” Abbie hoisted her massive black bag over her shoulder. “But I’m sure you two ladies will have loads to talk about.” She rolled her eyes and giggled. Elizabeth glanced at Melanie, who was still staring at her, knowing smirk firmly in place, then back at Abbie.

“
Oh, Lizzie,” Abbie said, shaking her head like Elizabeth was a child who was not so bright, but whom she was fond of all the same. “You know CFLS, right? Sebastian Faulkner’s former agency? Mel represented Sebastian.”

Elizabeth felt her jaw drop. She looked back at Melanie, comprehension dawning. The
blond’s smile widened.

“
Abbie,” Elizabeth hissed, but her agent was already walking away, her ample hips brushing the narrowly separated tables as she went. That meddling bake-sale is going to get an earful, Elizabeth thought, eyes returning to her dining partner. If I live through this lunch, that is.

Melanie had managed to pry her eyes off Elizabeth, but she was still smiling as she looked at the menu.
“Should we order first? I hear the snapper pie is outstanding. And that meatloaf smells to die for.”

Elizabeth had no appetite whatsoever.
“Mm-hm,” she said, on autopilot. “It does.”

“
Great.” Mel hailed a passing waiter with an arch of her eyebrow. “Two orders of meatloaf, please. And,” she looked at Elizabeth and winked, “a bottle of Malbec. And if you could bring the wine right away, that would be fabulous.”

“
Like, yesterday,” Elizabeth muttered, under her breath as the waiter walked away.

Mel heard her and laughed, fixing Elizabeth in her appraising stare again. Elizabeth toyed with her napkin, folding it and unfolding it and finally spreading it on her lap.

“So Abbie didn’t tell you she was setting this meeting up. Some agent,” Melanie said at last.

“
Well, she’s more like a friend ...” Elizabeth began.

“
Right,” Melanie interrupted, with a harsh humorless laugh. “Wait till your books stop selling.”

Elizabeth didn
’t respond, exhaling with visible relief as the waiter returned with the wine.

“
So, how
is
Sebastian?” Mel asked, lowering her glass after a long drink.

“
Oh. Fine,” Elizabeth answered, drawing the word out. The two women shared an ironic chuckle.

“
Yes, he is,” Mel said, some of the edge slipping off her smile, softened by the wine. She looked at Elizabeth with that considering look again. “You’re just his type,” she said.

Elizabeth
’s eyebrows shot up. If she was his type, then what was Mel? The two women didn’t look a thing alike. Where Mel was a typically tiny LA size zero, Elizabeth was long and lanky, curved like a cello. Mel’s style was cool and expensive and edgy and hip. Elizabeth’s was, well, not.

“
You know,” Mel gestured to herself, “natural. No Botox, no fillers, no grapefruit tits. But still sexy.”

“
Right.” Elizabeth really didn’t know what to say to this woman who had been Sebastian’s former lover, the woman who had supposedly had her life turned upside down by him.

“
A bit young,” Mel continued, squinting. “Not that he doesn’t go for the young ones too, on the side.” A picture of Naomi Clamp flashed through Elizabeth’s mind. “But he usually likes his main course a few years older than you. Late thirties?” she asked.

Elizabeth nodded.
“Thirty-eight.”

“
Forty-five,” Mel gestured to herself. She sighed, twisting the base of her glass between two fingers. The way she kept staring at Elizabeth like she was a cashmere sweater marked down to half price made Elizabeth feel distinctly uneasy. “He must love that hair,” Mel sighed, suddenly reaching across the table to touch a strand. Elizabeth flinched and Mel sat back in her chair as if just realizing how inappropriate the gesture was.

“
I’ll bet he loves twisting his fingers in that,” Mel said through a clenched smile, “when he’s got his cock in your mouth, doesn’t he?”

“
Uh, look, Mel,” Elizabeth said, the color rising in her cheeks. “I’m sorry that things didn’t work out between you and Sebastian, but I had nothing to do with that.”

“
No, of course you didn’t.” Mel’s gaze seemed to lose its sharpness, as if she were thinking of something else altogether. Or maybe it was the Malbec.

“
And I don’t know why Abbie wanted us to meet,” Elizabeth began, but Mel interrupted, her gaze razor sharp again, cutting through the fog of wine that was beginning to blur Elizabeth’s focus.