“That’s unfair.” His jaw tautened. “And untrue. You’re looking for excuses.”
“To do what?”
“To end this. Because maybe you didn’t sell me out to Sharona, but you still think you have to make a choice. Your job or me. You can’t even stretch your imagination enough to see you can have both. Everything’s black and white with you. You have to pick sides.”
“And you think everyone in your life should be like silly putty. Fit whatever mold you want for them.”
“I don’t need you to fit anything. I’ve always accepted you the way you are.”
“Oh, that’s big of you—”
Her sarcasm washed right over him. “I can’t help but wonder, though; you weighed me against the vice presidency, and I came up a few ounces heavier. But what would happen if you have to make another choice. What if you have to pick between me and something you want more? Is it always going to be either/or where you and I are concerned?”
She threw her hands up. “So I’m greedy, selfish, and disloyal.”
“I hate never knowing where I stand with you.”
“Where do I stand with you?” There it was. Out in the open. He knew she loved him, but how did he feel?
His hesitation spoke volumes. He shook his head wordlessly.
Her heart clenched like a fist. “Nothing to say?”
“It’s hard for me. . . . ” He stopped, as if he knew that what he said next could end the war, and bring peace again. “It’s been an awful long time. But you’ve got to know how much I care about you.”
Coward. Her disappointment was bitter and sharp. If he was planning on doing a Wounded Widower number on her, she wasn’t playing along. “Let’s call it a night, okay? Go home.”
He looked about to resist a second time, but thought better of it. She followed him to the hall, where he put on his coat and scarf and gathered up his stuff. When he was dressed to go outside, he faced her. “I know what you want me to say, but you need to give me time.”
She was so tired, if he didn’t leave now, she’d crash like a rotted redwood. “Go, Mitchell. I’m done.” Her eyelids fluttered shut for a second.
When she glanced at him again, he still looked unsure whether to believe her. “You can’t be”
She wavered. It would be so easy to back down. Open her arms to him and convince them both she was just talking crazy. She wouldn’t need to beg: he’d come to her at once. But she wouldn’t forget, and neither would he. Next time they had a crisis, their issues would rise out of the flames like a phoenix, and she’d get burned again.
She stood her ground. “I am.”
He winced as though she’d punched him in the mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut and swayed, absorbing the blow. He glanced upward, in the direction of the upstairs bedrooms.
She knew what he was thinking. “Ruby’ll be fine. She can stay as long as she needs to. I’ve got no problem with her.”
He nodded in gratitude. “Thank you.”
“Go,” she repeated, she hustled him out the door. She double-locked it, more against the threat of her changing her mind than of him returning. A dark, brutal pain ravaged her, stripping her skin, squeezing her heart. Everything hurt. She felt alone and abandoned, but her aloneness was her own fault.
What had she done?
19.
“And that’s why I think the illustration on this page should show two tap-dancing gorillas,” Monique said.
“Sure,” Mitchell agreed vacantly. For his trouble, he received a hard thump on the shoulder with a heavy book. “Yeow! That hurt!”
“Want me to whack you again?”
“No! What’s up with that?”
“Then stop moping and pay attention.” Monique waved the printout of Mitch’s book chapter in his face. “Are we doing this or not?”
He was sitting in Monique’s living room with papers spread out on the table, reviewing the edits and suggestions she’d scribbled all over the pages in red. Normally he was excited to hear what she had to say; she was smart and knew her stuff and shared his vision for his book. But the beers on the table had gotten warm and his mind kept drifting like a raft down the Mississippi.
He made an effort to clear his head, but did a lousy job of it. “Sorry babe, I can’t focus tonight.”
“You’re telling me! I was beginning to think I’d have to do a striptease to get your attention.”
He smiled. Monique had zero inhibitions about her body, and it wouldn’t surprise him a bit if she did leap onto the table and start shaking what her mama gave her. He picked up a red ballpoint pen and twirled it absently.
“Work on your mind?” she asked.
“Bothering me a bit,” he admitted.
“But that’s not the half of it, huh?”
His sigh came from deep inside. “Unfortunately not.”
Monique got up and walked around the couch until she was standing behind him. He felt her big, capable hands on his shoulders and instantly relaxed under her familiar touch. Her fingers began kneading the knot in his muscles, where the ache between his shoulder-blades had taken up residence. As she rubbed and stroked the stress away, he shut his eyes.
“Blondie?”
His eyes flew open again. If there was anyone who knew him well enough to understand what was troubling him, it was Monique. “Yep.”
“What’s the problem?”
“She says she loves me.”
The hands on his shoulders missed a beat, but then took up the rhythm again. “And that’s a problem?”
“It is if she kicks me out right after.”
“Define ‘kick you out’,” Monique demanded.
Mitch tilted his head back so he could see Monique hovering above him. As he did so, his head pressed against her ample breasts. She was warm and comfy; he’d been there before. “I didn’t know that required definition.”
Her hands kept moving, soothing. “So let me get this straight; this girl—”
“Jenessa.”
“Right. Jenessa tells you she loves you, and then boots you out?”
“Pretty much.”
“What? Is she off her meds?”
“She’s the sanest woman I know.”
Monique tweaked his ear, pretending to be offended. “Pardon?”
He laughed softly. “The second sanest woman I know.”
She patted his head affectionately. “Now you’re talking.” She woman-handled his body forward until she could gain access to the center of his back. “God, you’ve got more knots than a rope at a Boy Scout convention. Have you slept at all?”
“Some.”
“Meaning ‘not much’,” she guessed. She pondered quietly for a few moments, then asked the question he knew was killing her. “So, what’d you do to make her show your ass the door?”
“It’s got to be my fault, right?”
“In my experience, honey, the fault-o-meter tends to point toward the party with the most testosterone.”
“That’s sexist.”
“That’s realistic. My reality, that is.”
“Then you’ve had some really bad experiences with men.”
“Only ‘cause you never stuck around long enough to prove me wrong.”
“You never asked me to stick around.”
“What was I thinking?” she asked dryly.
Mitch reached up and lightly patted Monique on the back of the hand. They’d known each other so long, he was secure enough in her presence to tell her anything. About a year and a half after Wendy’s death, when he’d felt for the first time he was ready to reach out for human contact once again, Monique had been one he’d turned to. She’d always cheerfully flirted with him, but they were good enough friends for him to be sure they could sleep together without suffering any emotional backlash. She understood he was yearning for sexual intimacy, but not yet ready for an intense romantic relationship. She’d been content to keep it that way, and so had he. And even though they hadn’t slept together in a year, the war
mth and affection between them still endured.
“Well?”
“Well, what?” he asked. He realized his eyes had drifted shut again, that he’d wandered back into his own miserable reverie.
“Cough it up. How’d you scuttle the Love Boat?”
He began to protest. “I didn’t. . . . ” He trailed off. Jenessa had been very clear about why she’d asked him to leave, and although he’d resisted and told himself over and over again she was wrong, he was forced to admit she had a point. Several points. “It’s a long story,” he evaded lamely.
“Well, cut to the chase, then. Do you love her back?”
The question hit him right in the solar plexus, almost robbing him of his breath. Did he love Jenessa back? What he felt for her was bountiful: there was want and need, lust and desire, respect and affection. His instinct was to protect her, though she made it damn clear she didn’t need protecting. He wanted to make her laugh. He wanted to see her eyes light up when he brought home some little treasure or the other. Every day spent without her felt barren and pointless. If that wasn’t love, what was?
Monique made an irritated sound and abandoned her massage. She sauntered around the couch, her broad hips swaying, the hem of her floral print skirt rustling as she walked. She towered over him. Her gorgeous strawberry blond hair was a cloud framing the face of a goddess looking down from heaven. But the goddess wasn’t happy.
“Know what you are?” she baited him.
“I’m sure you’re gonna tell me.”
“You betcha.” She bent over, bringing her mouth close to his ear. “You’re a pussy.”
Even coming from the outspoken Monique, that surprised him. His eyebrows shot up. “I’m a—”
“That woman’s gaga over you. Your niece is gaga over her—you should see the dagger looks she sends me.”
“Ruby?”
“Don’t be a smartass. Your girlfriend wants to boil me in oil.”
He gave a short, embarrassed laugh. He wasn’t used to the idea of women squaring off over him. “Your point being . . . ?”
“My point being she says she loves you, and even a blind man can see it. So did you tell her how you feel about her?”
Mitch drew in his lower lip.
“Oh, for God’s sake, you didn’t tell her you love her back?”
He shook his head slowly. “I wasn’t able to put a name to it before. I know how I feel, but it’s been such a long time. It’s so odd, so foreign. . . . ”
“Does it feel good?”
He didn’t need to think that over. “Very good.”
“Do you long to be with her when you’re apart? Do you hate to leave her? Do you want to be with her even when you’re mad? Can you see yourself happy with her five years from now? Ten? Are you—”
“Yes, yes, yes, yes. . . . ”
“And you still want to believe you’re not in love?”
It sounded stupid even as he said it. He sighed. “I just wasn’t . . . I hadn’t . . . I’m not good at naming things.”
She looked about to smack him again. Instinctively, he ducked. “You’re a menace to your own self,” she told him. “I oughta drag you out back and chain you to a tree so you won’t do any more harm.”
As irritating as Monique could be, she was often right. Jenessa was fully aware of their differences, but it took more than that to make her back down from anything. She was determined to the point of being bull-headed, smart, strong, and accomplished, but under all that, she was a woman with needs, and the greatest of those needs was love. And like the fool he was, he’d shown her how he felt in all manner of small ways, but he’d never actually said it. Not even after she’d said it to him.
Monique knew him well enough to read his face. She gave him a triumphant look. “Now, tell me you didn’t need my help to figure that out.”
He got heavily to his feet. It was time to leave. He needed to think—hard. “Maybe not, but it’s always good to bounce stuff off of you.”
The underlying salacious interpretation of his words made her chuckle. Although he was already gathering his papers, most of them unread, she reached out and tapped her fingers lightly on his cheek. “Speaking of bouncing things off me. . . . ” The irises of her blue-gray eyes were large and black. “How ‘bout a little something to take your mind off your stress? Can I offer you a nightcap?”
He knew she wasn’t talking about a glass of warm milk. Now that he was standing again, he could look down at her, although not by much. Her lips were pink and full and pouty, and he was briefly drawn to the tip of her tongue as it poked out the corner of her mouth. What man with red blood in his veins wouldn’t be tempted? But the stirring inside him was nothing but a faint echo of past lust.
He shook his head slowly and regretfully. “Thanks, hon, but no thanks.”
She was gently persuasive. “I wouldn’t tell.”
“I’d know.”
“If it makes you feel better, you could just lie there and let me do all the work. That way you could pretend it wasn’t your fault.”
Her flattering persistence made him grin. “Let me tell you, Monique. In an alternate universe, or a month ago. . . . ” He bent forward and brushed his lips lightly against hers. “But I can’t.”
“Dammit.” She snapped her fingers, but looked more amused than upset.
“I appreciate the offer, though.”
She gave him a devilish grin. “Oh, honey, that wasn’t charity. You’re well worth my while. Have you seen yourself operate?”
Although advances in digital technology would have made that quite easy to achieve, he had to admit that no, he never seen himself operate, and he told her so.
“Well, you don’t know what you’re missing.” She walked him to the door. “But I guess you got your proof right there.”
He was puzzled. “Proof of what?”
Her eyes were steady on his. “If you can turn down all this,” she gestured toward her own body with a self-confident flourish, “You really must love the woman. And if you choose to deny it you’re not just a fool; you’re a damn fool.”
The relief she’d brought to his shoulders had melted away, and the tautness was back. “Not going to argue with you there,” he muttered. He was halfway down the corridor when she called out to him, her voice echoing off the walls.
“You know Wendy’s not coming back, right?”
He stopped and gave her a pained look over the shoulder. The woman was as accurate as a sniper’s rifle.
“Just saying,” she pressed on. “In case you forgot.”
“I didn’t forget.” He hung his head and kept on walking.
20.
“Get out, Merlin.”
Merlin gave Sharona his trademark deer-in-the-headlights look. “I’m sorry, Miss Holmes, I didn’t realize you were here.”
“Mrs. Holmes,” she snapped. “Get lost.”
Merlin turned and ran, shutting Jenessa’s door with a bang. Jenessa had to dig her fingernails into the arms of her chair to control the outburst that sprang to her lips. She said evenly, “I’d prefer you didn’t speak to my assistant like that, Sharona.”
“He’s a nitwit.”
“He’s a kid. A smart one: he has potential.”
Sharona wriggled her butt on top of Jenessa’s desk. As she did so, she nudged a pencil holder, which rolled off the table and spilled its contents onto the floor. She snorted. “What, have you joined your boyfriend in his civil rights campaign? You turned into a champion of the underdog, too?” She gave a sardonic laugh. “I can just see the two of you in your second-rate superhero outfits, defending the weak and the downtrodden. You with your mutant hair, and him with what? A radioactive monkey-wrench?”
“Enough, Sharona. That’s not what we’re here for.”
Sharona recrossed her legs and fluttered her fingers as though the subject was inconsequential. “Of course. You were explaining why you couldn’t do one simple thing I asked you.”
“Spying isn’t simpl
e,” Jenessa asserted. “It’s also not ethical. You have no authority to ask me to get information from Mitchell. Even if you did, I wouldn’t.” She had to struggle to keep her voice steady. Just saying Mitchell’s name out loud brought pain. He hadn’t passed by to visit Ruby the last few nights. Ruby rationalized he was working late and went to bed quite happily, but Jenessa knew better. Each night, she’d lain awake, staring at the ceiling and listening for the sound his car. It never came.
What had she done? What had possessed her to ask him to leave? She’d been upset, of course, and so had he. Sharona’s laughable demand had rattled her to the core. But what had frightened her more was the raw vulnerability she’d felt in exposing her heart to him. Admitting she loved him was one of the hardest things she’d ever done.
It wasn’t supposed to go down like that. Saying ‘I love you’ usually ended in endearments and kisses, didn’t it? Shouldn’t it? But he hadn’t been able to bring himself to return the sentiment, and above all the issues she’d raised, all the reasons they were better off apart, that one held the most weight. So instead of holding him close, she’d pointed at the door. If she hadn’t been such a butthead, she’d still have him. Maybe he didn’t love her—yet—but there were ways to change a man’s mind. If only she’d given him more time. Given them more time.
“Jenessa are you listening? You’d better be.”
She squashed her errant thoughts and tried to focus on Sharona. Normally, this was the easiest thing in the world to do: Sharona wasn’t the kind of woman you could ignore.
Her VP was working up a good lather. “You can play stubborn if you want. You can make me out to be the bad guy if that floats your boat. But if you think you’re the only game piece on the board, you’re wrong. And while you’re enjoying the view from up on your high horse, let me tell you this: that VP job you got your panties all wet for? You can kiss it goodbye.”
She shouldn’t have been surprised. She wasn’t, really; from the moment she’d turned Sharona down in the parking lot, she’d known what she was throwing away. But Sharona’s pettiness knew no bounds. “You’re withdrawing your support?”
The Irresistible Mr Cooper Page 18