Then—God bless her perfect timing—Evie ran in to break the somber mood. “For you.” She offered Betsy the drawing she’d just made on her new construction paper. “All red. Red’s pretty.”
Betsy stared at the drawing and nodded. Yep, red it was. The flowers, including stems and leaves, were an eye-blasting ketchup color, as was the usual stick-figure-in-skirt. “Red crayon on a white background. Love it,” Betsy gushed as she accepted Evie’s latest contribution to her rapidly growing collection of Evie Donnelly Drawings—The Early Years.
****
When Betsy got back to her apartment, she hung Evie’s newest creation on the wall that was already plastered with all of the girl’s previous creations. Now what was the best way to keep the Donnellys from winding up on the street? It was useless. No ideas came, short of having the Donnelly kids personally beg Lorena Lattimer and company for their home, so she sat down at her desk, fired up her computer, and typed the phrase “Tenant Associations” into a search engine.
Thousands of hits swam before her eyes, and she spent the next half hour checking them out. Then she did the same thing with “Evictions” and “Preventing Evictions.” She finally looked up at Evie’s wall again and the drawings were starting to resemble something Picasso could have painted at the height of his artistic powers. She’d obviously stared at enough pixels for one day, so she shut off the computer and reached for her phone.
“Matt? I need help.”
“Lesson?” He sounded more than willing to oblige.
She rolled her eyes. God, the man really enjoyed being a teacher. “No. Advice on preventing an eviction.”
His whimsical tone immediately changed to one of concern. “The Donnellys?”
“None other.”
Betsy quickly explained the latest developments, and as soon as she finished, his groan of frustration echoed over the line.
“Well, God bless the three stooges for that. Okay, Rob’s here. Want to come over for a brainstorming session, or should I come to you?”
“I’ll come there. Maybe Rob will have some good ideas.”
****
“Sweetie!” Rob greeted her with a big smile and an even bigger hug as he pulled her into his apartment. “Missed you. It’s been a while.”
Betsy nodded, unable to deny it. Her time had been so consumed with her job, her lessons with Matt and her concern for the Donnellys that she’d given little thought to staying in touch with Rob. Except for a couple of brief phone calls to touch base with him, communication between them had been nil. “Almost four weeks,” she admitted as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and walked her into the living room.
“So how’s it going? Not with the thing Matt told me about, but with your other problem.”
Betsy took a nervous gulp of air. Her other problem? Did he mean her sex lessons with Matt? Had he somehow found out about them? “Huh?” She resorted to cluelessness to keep from blurting out that her lessons with Matt meant nothing.
“You know. The breakup.” He bent closer and whispered the words as though that would make a bad memory easier for her to handle.
“Oh, that.” She hoped her sigh of relief wasn’t audible as she looked up at him and forced a brave smile. “Rapidly working my way out of it.”
Rob nodded with approval. “Good, that creep wasn’t worth your time, anyway. So now tell me about this problem Matt mentioned.”
“I already clued him in on most of it.” Matt came in from the kitchen holding several soda cans. “Hi, Bets. Take off your jacket and sit.” He winked at her and set the soda cans on the coffee table. “Here, have something to drink.”
Betsy stared at him. Bets. It was the first time he’d ever used Rob’s nickname for her. Somehow it made her feel strange…different from when Rob said it…and she knew that shouldn’t be.
“That’s right.” Rob plopped down on the sofa and reached for a can of soda. “Matt’s explained the situation. It’s about the widowed lady with the kid who has zilch artistic talent. Matt’s got her stuff hanging all over the bedroom.”
Betsy stopped her fixation on Matt’s wink and the way he’d called her Bets and turned to scowl at Rob. Here, she’d come hoping for help and what she got as soon as she arrived was snark. Not that it was a complete surprise. Whenever Rob was in love, he tended to get gloriously silly, and he was obviously deeply in love with Matt. “She’s only five years old.” She took her jacket off and settled into the armchair across from him.
Rob shrugged, popped the tab on his soda, and took a swig. “Hey, when I was five years old, my stick figures didn’t only wear skirts, they had perky shoes, too.”
Matt sat beside him, legs splayed wide apart, the way guys sometimes sat when they felt at ease in their surroundings. His knee touched Rob’s, and he left it there, as if knee-touching with this particular man was no big thing. “Forget your own misspent youth, Robert, and concentrate on the matter at hand.” He pushed a soda can across the coffee table to Betsy and snagged the last soda for himself.
Betsy nodded. “He’s right, Rob. I need help, not an art critic.”
Rob sighed and slung his arm along the back of the sofa, touching Matt’s shoulder.
Again, Matt didn’t retreat. They sat there, completely comfortable together, as if they’d known each other for years.
“Art and evictions. Hell of a combination.” Rob shook his head and put his soda back on the coffee table. “Okay, to show I really have been wracking my brain for solutions, how’s this? According to what Matt told me, the building management could soon be on the kid’s back.”
Betsy popped open her soda. “Building management as well as the leaders of the new tenants’ association.” She sipped at the fizzy liquid.
Rob nodded. “And by tenant leadership, you mean—”
“Old lady Lattimer,” Matt cut in between swigs of soda. “I just told you about her.”
Rob rolled his eyes. “Actually, you didn’t have to tell me. I clearly remember the name from an unfortunate episode when I came face-to-face with the lady herself, and she chewed me out for tracking slushy snow past her door. So if you need a solution for dealing with her and the rest of the leadership…” He grinned and picked up his soda can, lifting it toward Betsy in a merry salute. “I opt for disposal.”
Betsy stopped sipping soda and stared at him. “What?”
Rob spread his hands. “Disposal. Maybe we could get somebody to dispose of the tenant leadership by transporting them to the Arctic Circle and making them walk back on foot without any money.” He paused, then snapped his fingers as an even more whimsical idea apparently came to him. “Or maybe one of my former boyfriends could give you a hand. Beau. He was really into mob culture, wanted to be a ‘made man.’ Even had his own gun. Used to wave it around sometimes when he got seriously pissed, like the day I broke up with him.”
Matt sighed and thumped his soda can onto the table. “Will you stop talking about your past relationships?”
“Sorry.” Rob leaned toward him. “Want me to talk about my current one instead?”
Matt leaned away. “Not if you value your life.”
Rob shook his head good-naturedly. “Testy, testy. But, okay, you want serious, how’s this for serious?” He turned to Betsy. “Maybe you could set up an alternate tenants’ association or write management and explain that the kid stopped defacing the walls.”
Both solutions sent a cold shiver through Betsy. “That would put me right in Mrs. Lattimer’s crosshairs, a position I sincerely want to avoid.”
“Understandable,” Matt said.
Rob nodded. “Agreed. Never piss her off.” He paused, then smiled. “Try to appeal to her instead.”
Betsy shook her head uncertainly, vowing that if he spoke of mob hits again, she would fling her soda can at him. “How?”
“Not sure. Play on her vanity, maybe.”
“Or her greed,” Matt chipped in. “Or her desire to be in the limelight.”
Rob patted
him on the knee and nodded enthusiastically. “Perfect idea. Almost everybody likes the limelight.”
Betsy stared at them. Vanity? Greed? The limelight? Like that helped.
“Okay,” she said slowly, forcing herself not to groan aloud at how useless this meeting had been. “Vanity, greed, limelight, Arctic Circle, mob rubout, alternate tenants’ association, letter to management. Got it.”
Rob frowned. “Somehow you don’t seem happy with any of them.”
Putting her soda can on the coffee table, Betsy stood. “Not to worry. At least it’s more than I was able to come up with on my own.” She reached for her jacket and slipped into it. “Think I’d better go now.” She bent and gave Rob a hug, smiling to let him know she was grateful for his time if not for his suggestions. “But if things get really bad, I will keep Beau in mind.”
“Still got his number in my Contacts, if you need it.” Rob hugged her in return.
Behind her, Matt’s disgusted growl indicated he was not amused by Beau’s reemergence. “Oh, for God’s sake,” he muttered as he jumped to his feet. “Come on, Betsy, I’ll take you home.”
Chapter Fourteen
“I guess that session didn’t help you much,” Matt said as they walked back to her apartment.
They paused at the street corner to wait for the light to change, their shoulders touching, and Betsy thought about how skittish she’d been before their first lesson, just touching shoulders with him. Now she looked forward to it, almost couldn’t wait to do it with him…touch shoulders and so many other things. “No, I guess it didn’t help a whole lot.”
“Sorry.”
The light turned green, and they crossed the intersection, shoulders still brushing companionably, the way his shoulder had brushed against Rob’s. But it didn’t mean the same thing. She shrugged away his apology. “Don’t worry about it.”
The meeting had helped her in one way. It had defined his relationship with Rob more clearly. Their ease with each other…their joking sense of camaraderie…most of all, Matt’s pissed-off reaction when Rob talked about a past love.
Lots of jealousy there. And that told her everything she had to know about Matt’s feelings. So even if he didn’t want a permanent relationship with Rob, he must still care deeply about him to have been so annoyed.
If only Matt felt that deeply about her. What would it be like if he did? They could have more of those gentle cuddling sessions, and when she was feeling deliciously naughty, she could surprise him by doing a crazy high-kick in a lacy black garter belt and killer heels as he came through the door.
Betsy blinked and cut the thought off when she realized the wrong road her mind had taken. No, not Matt, she corrected. Tyler. She wished Tyler felt that way about her and that she could sizzle for him in a sexy garter belt and heels.
“Going to rain.” Matt’s comment mercifully distracted her from the stupid mistake her mind had made.
She glanced at the sky. He was right. It had been overcast for most of the day, but now the clouds hung low, looking dark, bloated, and very threatening. Then a crack of thunder echoed from somewhere far away, and Betsy burrowed deeper into her jacket. “No umbrella.”
Matt nodded. “Me either.” He moved closer to her, as if his nearness would somehow protect her from the rain.
It felt good to her, and she leaned in against him as their pace automatically quickened, their steps picking up the same rapid tempo. She sighed. “I carried one to work with me today. But when I came to see you, I forgot to bring it.”
He smiled. “No surprise. Bumping into Mrs. Lattimer in her avenging-angel mode would make a memory expert forget even the most basic things, like protecting himself from the rain.”
A second clap of thunder sounded, and a single drop of rain fell onto Betsy’s cheek. “I think it’s already started.” She brushed it away.
Matt laughed. “Sweetheart, you are one perceptive lady.” Stopping at a sidewalk newspaper box they were passing, he reached inside and pulled out a free neighborhood paper. “Your new rain hat.” He turned to her with a wicked smile and plunked it on her head.
Betsy scowled at him as the pages fluttered around her face. But it was what her mom always did when caught in an unexpected rainstorm without an umbrella, so she kept it there, lifting her hand to anchor it in place as another raindrop came down and landed on her nose. “Very funny.” She wasn’t willing to give up her scowl, even though it was funny.
Matt nodded. “You’re right. Not that funny and definitely not effective. Got a better idea.” He touched her arm as more raindrops splashed down, falling faster and faster until, finally, the clouds opened up, and the drops turned into a torrent. “Come on. We’ll run for it.”
“Six blocks?”
He grinned. “Or I could carry you, since your marathon skills seem to be deficient.”
She glared at him. “We’ll run.”
Matt nodded, still grinning as he quickly unbuttoned his jacket and spread it open. “Good.”
Turning it into a tent to protect her, he pressed her body against his side and tucked her under the material. Then they ran the six blocks to her apartment, with his arm around her and their downturned heads almost touching as he held on firmly so she wouldn’t skid or fall on the wet sidewalk.
When they reached her building, they trotted up the front steps and burst into the foyer, dripping on the floor like a couple of shaggy dogs who’d escaped from an unwanted bath. But somehow, Betsy was more exhilarated than exhausted by the run, and she couldn’t help smiling at how silly they must have looked sharing the same jacket and sprinting like a pair of idiots through the pouring rain.
“That was fun.” She untented herself from beneath his jacket, and they walked to the elevator, shaking water from their clothes, pushing sodden hair out of their eyes, and leaving puddles in their wake.
She swept the drenched newspaper rain hat from her head and considered tossing it on the floor to get rid of the thing. But the prospect of a vengeful Lorena Lattimer demanding her eviction for littering immediately rose in her mind, so she folded the dripping mess at her side to hold it there until she reached her apartment.
At the elevator, Betsy leaned against the wall, looking up at Matt while he pressed the button and looked down at her.
He looks good. Even with the hair plastered to his skull, and a rivulet of rain running down the side of his face, he still looks good.
“You have a drop of water hanging from the tip of your nose.” She smiled at him.
He brushed it away and moved closer to her. “And you have drops of water all over your face.” He smiled back, then he brushed the tips of his fingers against her cheek. The movement was soft, slow, gentle, as though she were a precious thing to be handled carefully.
She stopped smiling and stared at him, and he stopped smiling too, and came a step closer, boxing her in with her back against the wall.
She held her breath as he slipped his hand under her chin and tilted her face toward him. Then his thumb stroked upward along her jaw, making her heartbeat throb fast and hard throughout her body. The touch sent goose bumps shivering across her skin and made her yearn for things she knew she could never have.
“Matt,” she said as he smoothed hair away from her brow.
He nodded, and continued stroking her hair. “Yes?”
“I—” She stopped abruptly, not knowing what else to say.
I’m starting to feel strange around you, and I don’t know why. I only know it’s making me nervous, and that can’t be good. No, she definitely couldn’t say that to her friend’s lover. So she took refuge in the only other subject she could think of. “I thought I’d go shopping for my party dress tomorrow after work. Want to come along and help?”
His hand fell away from her hair, and for a split second some unreadable emotion flitted across his face. But then he smiled. Not a broad smile, but one that seemed genuine enough. “Your party dress,” he murmured. “The dress that will make you sizzle
for Tyler.”
He put an odd stress on sizzle. Betsy wasn’t sure what it meant, but she ignored it and nodded. “That’s the one. I’m going to try Weller’s Department Store. It’s located at—”
“I know where it is. Rob took me there last weekend so I could find a birthday present for my dad. Sure, I’ll come and help you sizzle for Tyler.”
Again, his voice underlined the word in the same strange way. She frowned. Maybe she should ask him what was going on with his sudden obsession with making a verbal meal out of it. But the sound of the elevator door opening stopped her, so she just said, “Elevator’s here,” and moved past him to get inside.
By the time they reached her apartment, she’d decided not to force the point. If the man wanted to play silly gymnastics with a word, let him.
Unlocking her front door, she opened it a crack, then turned to him again, wondering if she should ask him in, then quickly deciding against it. It was too late, they were both too wet and…hell…she could still feel the way his hand had brushed across her cheek, how gently it had smoothed the damp hair from her brow. If she asked him in now, she might ask him for a lesson, too, and she couldn’t do that, not when Rob, his real lover, was waiting for him at home. But she also wasn’t going to send him out there, unarmed, to drown on the trip back.
“Wait here. I’ll get you an umbrella,” she said.
Matt shook his head. “Don’t bother. I’m so wet now, a little more water couldn’t hurt me, and if it gets too bad, I can always take a cab.”
Betsy nodded. “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. In front of the store. Around six.”
“Six o’clock at Weller’s. I’ll be there.”
There was a damp spot on his forehead, and she longed to brush it dry, the way he’d dried her cheek. But she didn’t. She just smiled to let him know she appreciated his help. “Wonderful. Goodnight.”
Operation Sizzle Page 16