Unzipped? (12 page)

He nodded. “Yeah. I guess everyone has an algebra that they need help with.”

She smiled. “Well, here’s a formula for you to work with. Everyone likes to talk about themselves. So when you get to an awkward spot in a conversation, or you’re trying to start one, ask questions.
Appropriate
questions. Open-ended questions. In other words, you’re not going to ask some random woman, ‘So, babe, what’s your bra size?’”

“That’s bad, huh? I think I knew that.”

“Yes, that is bad. Your answer will be either a slap in the face, or she’ll say, ‘38D.’ In which case you’ll have to come up with another question.”

“Okay.”

“So let’s imagine that you’re talking with a man at a PR event like the one I’m sending you to in a couple of days.”

Alarm bells went off in Hal’s head. “Alone?”

“No. I’m going to set you up with a date, and that way we can kill two birds with one stone. It’s a benefit for the children’s hospital, and you’re attending to raise money for the cause
and
raise your profile in the community, which will bring you more business.”

“Sounds miserable.”

“Hal. It’s for a good cause and you’ll meet some nice people. Now, here’s a scenario—you meet a man there. He says his name is Fred Jones. You need to talk with him, find a connection with him. So you might ask him how long he’s been in the community and perhaps what he does for a living. As he tells you, you listen and ask a few more questions about what interests you. He’ll give you more information and probably ask you a few polite questions. You hit the conversational ball back and forth. You see how it works?”

“When does it end?”

She laughed and shook her head. “Any time you want it to. You can say, ‘Well, Mr. Jones, it’s great to meet you. I wish you luck with XYZ. I’ve got to go say hello to Bob/Judy/Tom. Take care.’”

“Bob/Judy/Tom?”

“Anyone. Or you can say you’re going to get a drink, find the facilities, whatever. But you make it clear, politely, that you’re ending the conversation. It’s really very simple.”

“Sounds like a big waste of time. Why do I want to meet Mr. Jones in the first place?”

Shannon closed her eyes. “Because people make the world go ’round. You might be able to help Jones, or he may be able to help you. He might become a close personal friend—you never know. Maybe he’s looking for technology like yours, or knows someone who is.”

“Hmm. So who is this woman you’re setting me up with?”

“She’s a friend of my partner Jane’s. She’s a manager for a department store, her name is Ellen and she’s very pretty.” Shannon’s voice was devoid of emotion, as if she were reading the telephone book to him. She really didn’t care. She was just passing him along to someone else without a qualm.

He got angry all over again, even though he told himself it was a waste of time and energy. Her Blondeness didn’t give a damn about him. Yet there she sat, across the table, in her tight lime-green sweater and a pair of snug jeans that showcased her ass as though it were a world-cup trophy. A single spiral of hair curled around her left ear, her lips were nude of any color, her large green eyes shadowed.

There she sat, casually dismissing him. And he
wanted her with a fierceness that shocked him. That made him angry, too. Hal tossed back the rest of his own Chianti and set his glass down. “We should be going. I’ve got work to do.”

But he couldn’t help himself. He reached across the table and traced the dark circles under her eyes with his index finger. “And you need to go to bed—with me or without me.”

S
HANNON CLIMBED
into Hal’s Explorer and sank back against its sturdy seat. The truck smelled of leather and carpet shampoo and stability, security. Kind of like Hal the man.

He might wear hideous combinations of clothing and say utterly bizarre things, but he was secure in his own skin, comfortable with himself when he wasn’t trying to follow someone else’s script. She got the sense, still, that he was humoring her with all this makeover madness. Humoring his mother and sister and attorney, too.

He considered the whole process of—what did he call it?—Suave School ridiculous and only went along with it to get everyone off his back.

While this knowledge didn’t make Shannon feel any more successful in life, she had to respect the fact that he liked himself just the way he was. He didn’t live for anyone else’s approval—or, like her, for their disapproval.

With sudden clarity, she realized that her entire life had been a rebellion against Greenwich and her
parents…the people who were not really her parents. The way she dressed, the way she thought, the profession she’d embraced in L.A. Now that rebel streak in her didn’t make sense any longer. And it was fading. But she’d been a rebel for so long that
not
being one left her swinging in the wind.

Who was she, if not the flamboyant anti-Greenwich? What role did she now play? She was done being a professional actress—sampling other people’s lives. It was time to live her own life.

Now she worked as an image consultant…but was it time to change her own image? She could feel herself changing, but couldn’t put her finger on exactly what the changes were. Yes, they had something to do with discovering she was adopted. But they also had to do with Hal, whose sanity and stability attracted her. For the first time ever, she didn’t find those qualities boring—not in him. In Hal, they were a challenge.

She slouched farther down into the seat, pulled the belt across her body and secured it. Hal got into the driver’s side and fastened his own seat belt. She repressed a smile.

He might look—with the exception of the renegade white socks—like a hip bachelor who’d stepped out of
GQ,
but he still had the habits and lifestyle of a suburban dad working to pay off a hefty mortgage. She found it endearing.

He drove to her apartment and walked her to her door like a Boy Scout. She opened the door and he
touched her shoulder, his hand warm through her light sweater.

She turned to find him watching her with an expression she couldn’t read. “Hal?”

He dropped his hand.

She wished he wouldn’t.

He seemed to see that, because he reached out again, as he had in the restaurant, and touched the dark circles under her eyes.

She closed them at the feel of his fingers on her skin.

He said huskily, “So when I take this woman Ellen out, should I touch her like this?”

Her eyes flew open and he read them before she could stop him. Damn his perception.

“Should I…” He bent his head and his lips brushed hers. “Should I kiss her like this?” And his mouth came down full force on hers.

Unfortunately her response was instantaneous and not something she could control. She opened to him, sagged against him, and kissed him right back.

The Boy Scout had vanished, had been replaced by a wolf. Hal picked her up, walked inside with her and kicked the door closed.

“This has to be the last time,” she whispered. “We have to stop this.”

He didn’t answer her; just kissed her again and set her on the stairs inside her apartment. He moved his hands to her knot of hair and undid it, so that it came tumbling down around her shoulders.

He threaded his fingers through it and she closed her eyes, her scalp tingling.

“You’ve got bad-angel hair,” he said softly. “The color of a halo but the kink of sin.” He continued to stroke it and she nuzzled her head against his hands like a cat.

“I want to make love to you until your hair straightens out by itself.” He chuckled softly. “Then I want to do it all over again until it goes back the way it was.”

“You know, you’re pretty damn good at this seduction stuff. At these bedroom lines. I still don’t understand what happened to you back there at the restaurant with the little brunette.”

Hal looked at her seriously. “She…wasn’t you. It was an awkward, artificial situation. And for your information, Shannon, the comments I make aren’t lines. But I guess men say things like this to you all the time.” He withdrew his hands from her hair and stood up. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at her with that inscrutable expression of his.

She stood up, too. “No, other men do not say the things you say. They’re unique. And while you’re right that I’ve been no angel during my lifetime, I haven’t been with anyone besides you in a year.” She splayed her hands across his chest and kissed him, feeling his nipples grow hard under her fingers as his tongue found hers and mated with it in a slow, intimate dance.

Suddenly he pulled away from her. “Why?”

“I haven’t wanted to.”

He traced the sensitive flesh and cartilage of her ears and waited. She sighed.

“There was a guy in L.A., a director. An amazing, creative, brilliant man. I fell hard for his work and for him. I thought I was in love.”

His hands stilled on her earlobes, but he held them carefully between thumb and forefinger.

“He was casting for the lead in an upcoming film. I won’t mention which one, but it’s a big deal. You’ll start to see trailers for it soon. It will have a star-studded premiere and the whole nine yards.” She bit her bottom lip, barely conscious of the fact until Hal tugged at it.

“Hey,” he said. “I like that. Don’t chew it off.”

She released it and expelled her breath. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He caressed her jaw and the back of her neck, and she could have cried with the comfort of it. “Anyway. One night we were in bed together, and he offered me the role. It should have been the happiest moment in my life, but I couldn’t take it.”

“Why not?”

She swallowed. “It was the way that he offered it. So cruel. So mocking. So cynical. He made me feel so cheap.”

“What did the bastard say to you?”

She didn’t know if she could repeat it to anyone but Jane or Lil, though the words had echoed in her mind for months now.

“Shan, what did he say?”

“He said…since I’d been a hot lay and a…a g-good little cocksucker, I could have the part.”

She heard Hal’s sharp intake of breath. Then he swore in a highly imaginative and filthy sequence. He pulled her close and kissed her head, hugged her as if he’d never let her go.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “What a son of a bitch.”

“I was stunned. And he laughed when he said it, fully expecting me to take the role. The worst part of the whole thing, Hal, was that I almost did. I was tempted! But that sickened me.”

He hugged her even tighter.

“Finally I looked at him, and I said, ‘I
loved
you, you bastard.’” She put her head on Hal’s chest. “And you know what he said? He said, ‘Oh, spare me.’”

“I want this guy’s name.”

She ignored that. “He told me to be on the set in a week, and to save my anger at him for the part. I told him to screw himself. He told me not to be stupid. I left. I never went to the set. And he cast someone else. End of story. I guess I am stupid.”

“You’re not stupid. You’re incredible.”

“I’m stupid and I’m a failure. I knew stuff like that went on in the industry. I’d just never seen a Jekyll and Hyde act like that one before. I didn’t see it coming. And I didn’t have what it takes to make it out there. A tougher woman would have shown up to the set in spite of him.”

“In no way, shape or form are you a failure. You have your pride and you’re a queen. It took one hun
dred percent more guts to walk away than it would have to stay. Now give me this guy’s name.”

“Hal—”

“Just a screen name, on the computer. Something very bad is going to happen to his system.”

“No—look, you could get into trouble for that.”

“If I got caught. Which I won’t.”

“Listen to me, okay? It’s bad energy. Let it go. I’m letting it go. Every time I tell the story—and this is only the second time, now—the negative force of it lessens. But you’re sweet for wanting to avenge me.” She smiled at him.

“Come here. You’re one in a million, do you know that?”

“Shut up. You’re embarrassing me.”

“I’ve got much better ways than that to embarrass you,” said Hal. “Naked ways.”

“We shouldn’t…”

“We should. We definitely should,” he told her, and then kissed her again. “You need kissing,” he said. “You need lots of it.”

He was right.

“Will you take off your clothes so I can kiss the rest of you? Every inch?”

“Yes. If you’ll take off those white socks and throw them into the fireplace.” She moved to the hearth and flipped a switch to turn on the gas log. It didn’t have the same wonderful smell of a real fire, but she didn’t have to make a mess to start one, either.

“Deal.” Hal followed her and sat on the lip sofa
to pull off his shoes and socks. He had long, sturdy feet. His toes sank into her fake polar-bear rug and he wiggled them in appreciation of the softness.

He sat barefoot and boyish on the giant red lips, and she wanted to eat him up: his kindness and humor and sharp intelligence…but also his sweet goofiness.

Shannon put on some music and swayed to it, turning her back to him and shaking her hair, shoulders and rear to the bass beat. She turned and looked at him over her shoulder, winked at him as he sat mesmerized.

Slowly, still dancing, she peeled off her lime-green sweater, tossed it at him and stretched her arms over her head. She lifted her hair and then let it cascade down her naked back, gyrating for him.

She unhooked her bra and peeked over her shoulder again to find him unblinking, like a cat peering into a fishbowl with evil intent. She laughed.

Still in time to the music, she bent at the waist and stretched down, peering at him from between her own legs. The straps of her bra fell down her arms, leaving her chest bare. She straightened and tossed the bra at him, cupping her breasts as she turned to face him.

Hal’s eyes glazed as she dropped her hands to the snap on her jeans and kept on with her striptease. She turned her back on him again and began to work the denim down over her hips until her thong peeked out.

A little more undulating and her cheeks were bare.
Hal looked as if a heart attack were imminent. Finally she stepped out of the jeans entirely and just danced for him in nothing but the thong, which was small and black.

“Where’s your pole?” he asked in hoarse tones.

“I think it’s right there.” She pointed to his tented pants and began to gyrate for all she was worth. She swung it, she spun it, she bumped and she ground. She had a ball, and would have continued if the song hadn’t ended and Hal hadn’t rushed her like an offensive lineman, throwing his clothes off in the process.

Before she knew it she was under him on the bearskin rug, and his hands were everywhere she liked best. He dispensed with her thong immediately and threw it into a houseplant. Then he made good on his word of kissing her all over.

He started damn close to the center and radiated outward, trailing his lips from the top of her mons to her belly and the hollow between her breasts. He kissed the swell of those, but not her nipples, while she grew ever impatient. He kissed her collarbone, her neck, her ears, her forehead, her lips.

He kissed her shoulders, her biceps, her wrists—even under her arms, while she struggled to push him away, laughing. “That’s disgusting,” she complained. “It can’t smell good there.”

“It does,” he promised. “Smells like you.” He nuzzled her breasts again, and trailed his mouth down over her ribs, hips and thighs. He made a brief foray
to her core again and blew teasingly on the curls he found there while she moved restlessly.

He parted her thighs and kissed the tender skin there, but avoided the more intimate area. He moved down her thighs to her knees and calves, her ankles and feet.

Only then did he start at the top again and pull her toward him. Sitting cross-legged in front of the fire, he coaxed her onto him so that she sat, thighs spread over his, nut to bolt, just barely touching.

He bent his head and just touched the tip of his tongue to her nipple, teasing it gently. Shannon caught her breath and leaned back on her hands. He circled the bud slowly with his tongue and then switched to the other one.

Exquisitely sensitized and barely wet, her nipples now jutted forward aggressively, trying to meet his mouth. When he closed his lips around one and sucked it almost roughly, she cried out and rocked forward, coming into slick contact with his erection. Swirls of pleasure eddied, then faded behind her closed eyelids—until he took the other nipple between his teeth and bit lightly before drawing it into his mouth and kneading both breasts in his hands.

She rocked forward again, slid against him again, and this time he grabbed her bottom, parted her and drove home. The feeling was indescribable as she rose and fell onto him, clinging to his shoulders and barely hanging on as her thighs began to tremble and the wet fullness between them built into a blinding
pleasure. Her nipples rubbed against his broad chest, heightening and echoing every sensation she felt at her core. She felt sunshine spreading within her, softly at first and then blazing through every inch of her until she combusted in Hal’s arms.

He lay back on the rug, spent, and pulled her on top of him. With Hal warming her front side, and the fire warming her backside, she fell asleep.