Can't Get Enough

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Can't Get Enough Page 12

by Connie Briscoe


  “Good, good.” He stretched his legs. “So, what did you do for dinner?” There was something about the way he quickly changed the subject that didn’t sit right with Pearl. His answers to her questions were short, almost curt. But she didn’t want to think about that now. It was probably just her imagination.

  “I ate at home and then I came over here about nine-thirty, since you said you would be back by ten.”

  He nodded.

  Lordy, Pearl thought. The short blunt responses had turned into no response. She sighed and glanced at her watch. “It’s almost midnight and I have to open the salon for an appointment at nine. I should get going.”

  He stood up. “Fine. Is Lee asleep?”

  Pearl blinked as she stood. In the past he had always tried to talk her into staying overnight. Something was definitely different. “She’s in her room. She was on the phone the last time I was up there.”

  “I see.” Patrick took Pearl’s arm. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  Pearl smiled stiffly. “Thank you.”

  There was an odd sound in the air as she picked her shoulder bag up off the stuffed armchair. They walked out the front door and down to the curb. By the time they reached her minivan, she knew what the odd sound was. Silence. In all the months they had been dating, Pearl could never remember such a lengthy silence between them.

  He opened the door to the minivan for her and shut it after she climbed in. She rolled down the window slowly and awkwardly, since the little round knob had broken off, and inserted the key into the ignition.

  He leaned down and smiled at her through the window. “When are you going to get around to replacing this old clunker?”

  So that was how it was? He was spending all his time with his millionaire ex-wife eating at fancy restaurants, and now her van was a clunker. “When I get the money,” she said curtly.

  His head jerked back. “Sorry. I was only teasing.”

  Her comment wasn’t really fair, she thought. He had been bugging her to replace the minivan for months. “I know,” she said. “I’m just tired I guess.” She was more upset than tired, but she didn’t want to show it. She needed to get away and think. “I’m going now.”

  He stood up abruptly. “I’ll call you tomorrow, OK?”

  She blinked, startled that he hadn’t kissed her good-bye as usual, and rolled the window back up. She pulled off and looked into the rearview mirror, expecting to see him standing there in the driveway waving at her like he always did. But he was gone.

  She hit the steering wheel with her fist. Darn it! He’d slept with her. She knew it. The air was thick with something fishy. That had to be it.

  Patrick and Jolene driving into town together and dining all alone. Patrick and Jolene going back to Jolene’s place all alone. Patrick acting stiff and distant with her. She could put two and two together. Jolene had seduced him.

  She pulled the minivan over to the curb and put it in park. She put her hand on her chest and tried to regulate the pace of her breathing. In, out. Slowly.

  After her divorce, Pearl had dropped out of the social scene for years and focused on raising Kenyatta. She hadn’t wanted the distraction of a man keeping her from doing a good job of raising her son. Then one day she looked up and Kenyatta was an adult waving good-bye, and Patrick was smiling down at her.

  She weighed even more back then than she did now, and she couldn’t believe that this successful, good-looking man was interested in her chubby self. But he was still married to Jolene then, even if they were separated, and for a while Pearl kept turning him away. He kept calling and stopping by the salon, making her laugh with his wry sense of humor, and eventually she’d given in and gone out with him. They had been a couple ever since.

  Now it looked like his ex-wife wanted him back.

  Pearl tightened her lips with determination. She banged her fists on the steering wheel. Dammit! Ms. Thang wasn’t going to get him back without a fight. When her ex-husband had started messing around with his young white secretary all those years ago, she had given him up without so much as a whimper. That wasn’t going to happen with Patrick. This time she was going to fight for her man.

  She swung the minivan around and pointed it back toward Patrick’s house.

  “DID YOU FORGET something?” Patrick asked when he opened the front door and saw her standing there.

  Pearl entered and turned to face him. “Actually, it was you who forgot something,” she said, her hands planted firmly on her hips.

  He knitted his brow, obviously puzzled, as he shut the door. “Me? What?”

  “This.” She reached out, pulled him close, and kissed him on the lips.

  BARBARA LOOKED UP from her desk to see Noah standing before her wearing black jeans and a white cotton shirt. He was holding a single lilac-colored rose in his hand.

  “Welcome back,” she said.

  “Thanks.” He held the flower out toward her, and Barbara thought he looked so sweet. “That’s a happy belated birthday wish and an apology,” he added. “Still friends?”

  She smiled as she accepted the rose. “Thank you, Noah. But you don’t need to apologize. We’re fine.”

  He shrugged. “I think I stepped over a boundary last time I saw you.”

  You certainly did, Barbara thought wryly. She had thought about their tender kiss often since that night a few weeks ago, especially after catching Bradford with Sabrina. Sometimes, just before falling off to sleep, she’d found herself wondering what it would be like to make love to a younger man like Noah.

  But to act on those feelings would be monumentally stupid. Their lifestyles were so different, and nothing could ever come of a relationship with Noah except sex. She wasn’t like Bradford. She couldn’t get intimately involved with someone unless she thought there was a possible future in it. Besides, if she got involved with Noah she could lose a friend and a coworker whom she could always count on to help her out.

  She waved her hand nonchalantly. “Don’t worry about it. Like you said that night, let’s pretend it never happened.” She held the rose to her nose and inhaled. “Mmm. This was very thoughtful of you. I’m surprised you remembered my birthday. Isn’t this a sterling rose?”

  Noah nodded and sat in the chair in front of Barbara’s desk. “They can be tricky to find.”

  “They’re very hard to grow, even in our greenhouse. Emilio, my gardener, hasn’t had much luck.”

  “Greenhouse, gardener. You lead a charmed life, Barbara.”

  Yes, but it wasn’t without its pitfalls, Barbara thought. It came at the price of a philandering husband who barely noticed her much of the time. She eyed Noah sitting in front of her in snug-fitting jeans and felt her stomach tingle.

  “Um, how was Jamaica?” she asked.

  “Nice. Saw a lot of my relatives. Perfect weather the whole trip.”

  She couldn’t count the number of times since she last saw him that she had pictured Noah in swimming trunks on a beach, his chestnut complexion glistening in the sun.

  “Good. Have you had a chance to check in with Bernice since you got back?” She needed to change the subject to business and clear her head of all the sensual thoughts of Noah. Get ahold of yourself, girl, she thought.

  “That’s what I came in to tell you. She and Bernard are back together.”

  Barbara rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

  “At least they’re still in the market for a house,” he said. “And since it’s for both of them, they’re willing to spend up to two mil.”

  “Fantastic. Does this mean that Bernice has stopped flirting with you?” Barbara said it teasingly, but immediately regretted the remark. It made her sound jealous. Then she realized that she was jealous.

  He flipped his hand back and forth. “It depends. Unless her husband’s around, it’s the same old thing. That’s just her way.”

  Barbara was silent for a moment. She had to stop the jealousy. She had no right to feel that way about Noah. “It’s your call.”


  “No worries. I can manage her just fine. We went to Virginia this weekend. She likes Beacon Hill, but the husband thinks that’s too far out. He prefers your neighborhood in North Silver Lake.”

  “At least they’re back together, and you still have a client.”

  “You mean we still have a client. We split the commission on this one. Unless they break up again.” He shook his head. “Strange couple. He cheated on her, right?”

  “That’s what she told me.”

  “So why does she keep going back to him? I don’t understand it.”

  Barbara smiled thinly. She knew the deal with the Wrights all too well. She had the same love-hate, on-and-off thing going on with Bradford. When he was being good, or she at least thought he was, they got along fine. Then out of the blue, another mistress would pop up and their relationship would quickly speed downhill. Like now.

  The night she had caught Bradford with Sabrina at B. Smith’s, he came home around midnight. Barbara had been in bed for an hour, tossing and turning, but as soon as she heard Bradford, she switched the lamp off and turned to face away from his side of the bed. She heard his footsteps coming up the stairs and closed her eyes.

  “Barbara, are you awake?” he asked softly as he sat on his side of the bed.

  She didn’t say a word, didn’t budge. She was in no mood to deal with him.

  “Barb, I think we need to talk about what happened this evening.”

  She shut her eyes tighter.

  “I know you’re awake, Barbara. You’re a very light sleeper. You probably have the wrong impression about what you saw. Will you sit up and talk to me for a minute?”

  Her lips tightened.

  “Fine. We can talk in the morning when you’ve had some time to come to your senses, but I’m telling you nothing is going on with Sabrina. We talk from time to time, that’s all. If you had calmed down, I could have had her explain that to you.”

  There he goes, Barbara thought. Trying to make it seem like she was a jealous fool who needed to calm down and think rationally. Like she was the one with the problem. Barbara was sick and tired of this. She had never cheated on Bradford a day in her life, yet he’d had so many affairs she’d lost track of the number. He had probably lost track. Sometimes she wondered why Bradford wanted to stay married to her. Why not dump her and be free to fool around as much as he wanted with no wife to worry about?

  She opened her eyes but kept her back stiffly toward him. “Bradford, tell me why we shouldn’t just get a divorce. Give me one good reason.”

  “A divorce? Don’t be foolish, Barbara. You saw me in a restaurant having dinner with a woman and now you’re talking divorce?”

  “Not just any woman. A former mistress.”

  “Exactly. Key word there, Barbara, ‘former.’ ”

  “Are you sure she’s a former mistress? I have a hard time believing that, which is sad in itself. Maybe you’re telling the truth, but I can’t trust you because you’ve lied so many times before.”

  “Look, I told you, those days are over. I’m not running around like that anymore. I have no need to lie. If I had something to hide with Sabrina, do you think I would have taken her to B. Smith’s of all places?”

  “That’s why you were asking me all those questions this morning. You wanted to be sure the coast was clear for your little rendezvous.”

  Bradford let out a big gust of air. “Barbara, you’re imagining things, and I understand why. I haven’t been the most faithful husband in the past. But I’ve changed. Have you seen real signs of anyone else recently?”

  “Maybe you’re just doing a better job of hiding them.”

  “Or maybe I have nothing to hide.”

  She turned onto her back and looked up at the ceiling. “And what about us? We have sex, what? Maybe once every couple of months.”

  He loosened his necktie and removed it. “I’m not getting any younger, Barb. Things have slowed down.”

  “All the more reason why you shouldn’t try to please more than one woman at a time anymore.”

  “Barb, please. There is no one else. Only you.”

  She turned back away from him and pulled the sheet up over her shoulders. “I’m tired, Bradford. I’m going to sleep.”

  “Fine. ’Cause there’s really nothing more to talk about. I’ve said what I wanted to say.”

  Her thought exactly. It was pointless. She was done talking. She was done listening. But she still wasn’t willing to leave him. Why? What the hell was wrong with her? And with Bernice and all the wives who stayed with husbands who cheated compulsively?

  “It’s hard to explain,” she said to Noah. “But it’s difficult to leave someone you’ve been with for so long. You have history and memories. You have children together, friends, property. You can’t just walk away from all that the way you can a girlfriend or boyfriend or even a live-in lover. Bernice probably feels that her life with Bernard is better than it would be without him, even with all his faults.”

  Noah looked directly into her eyes. “You say that like you’ve been there.”

  Barbara arched a brow as Noah rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and cupped his fists under his chin. But she said nothing.

  “So why not have some fun of your own?” he asked. “Or do you?”

  Barbara blinked. “Some do, and it’s tempting for the rest of us but . . .” Barbara paused. Was she revealing too much to him? No, she didn’t think so. Somehow she felt comfortable sharing this with Noah. She trusted that it would never leave the room, something she didn’t always feel with her girlfriends.

  “But what?” he asked. “It seems so unfair not to.”

  “It probably looks that way on the outside. But I . . . the women probably feel they’re getting something in return, a certain lifestyle maybe.”

  “So it’s about money?”

  “Not just money. Security, comfort, status . . . Look,” she said, smiling awkwardly. “Can we change the conversation? I’ve already said more to you than I intended to.”

  “I didn’t mean to make you feel . . .” He paused as someone knocked at the office door, and Barbara glanced at her watch.

  It was nearly twelve-thirty and she remembered that Veronique was supposed to meet her at the office at noon and then they were going to lunch together. Veronique had called Barbara a few days after the episode at B. Smith’s and suggested they do lunch. Barbara was surprised by the call but thought, why not? She had been embarrassed by the scene with Bradford at B. Smith’s but she was also curious about the baroness and especially about her past with Bradford.

  “Come in,” Barbara said.

  The door opened and Veronique strolled in wearing a tightfitting pair of gold lamé jeans that were obviously not from the Gap and a stylish Chanel tweed jacket unbuttoned just enough to reveal a hint of cleavage. On her feet were a pair of three-inch-high black stilettos.

  “Hello, Barbara, I’m sorry to be . . .” Veronique paused and glanced from Barbara to Noah and back to Barbara. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

  “No, not at all,” Barbara said as Noah stood and buttoned his sports jacket. “This is Noah Woods, one of my associates here. Noah, this is Baroness Veronique Valentine.”

  Veronique extended a hand toward Noah.

  “A baroness?” Noah said. He took her hand and kissed it. “Fascinating.”

  “Oh, he’s hot, Barbara,” Veronique said, smiling at Noah. “Now I’m hoping that I did interrupt something.” She winked at Barbara.

  Noah blushed as bright as his chestnut brown complexion would allow. All the women seemed to develop an instant crush on Noah, Barbara thought. First Bernice, now the baroness. But this was the first time she had seen Noah blush around another woman. Veronique walked in and poof! Noah was glowing like a schoolboy.

  Barbara smiled. “He has quite an effect on all the women.”

  “Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Veronique said.

  “You ladies are going to have to stop t
his,” Noah said, laughing. “It’s embarrassing.”

  “Would you like to join us for lunch, Noah?” Barbara asked as she retrieved her purse from a bottom desk drawer. “You can tell us all about Jamaica.”

  “No, thanks,” he said as he glanced at his watch. “I have to meet a client in Silver Spring in about an hour. You two go on and have fun.” He smiled shyly at Veronique. “It was nice meeting you.”

  “Likewise,” Veronique said, extending her hand again. “And I’m very sorry you won’t be joining us.”

  Noah bent over and kissed Veronique’s hand again. Barbara noticed that he seemed to like doing that. As he backed out of the office, his eyes never left Veronique, and it seemed to Barbara that he had forgotten she was even in the room.

  "SO, TELL ME, Veronique,” Barbara said as she dipped a shrimp into her cocktail sauce. “How did you meet Bradford?” “We met in Atlanta,” Veronique said as she ate a bit of her Beluga caviar. “He and my ex-husband had some business dealings together and . . .”

  “Software?”

  Veronique nodded. “Guy’s company was much smaller than Bradford’s, and Bradford loaned him the money to expand, quite a sum from what I remember.”

  “You said Guy’s company ‘was’ smaller than Bradford’s. He no longer has the company?”

  “No.”

  Barbara wanted to ask what had happened to her ex-husband’s business, but something about Veronique’s blunt ‘no’ made her hold back. Guy was an ex, so there could be bad blood between the two of them. It wasn’t business that Barbara was concerned about anyway.

  “How well did you and Guy know Bradford?”

  Veronique put her fork down and dabbed her lips with her napkin. “Barbara, given what I knew about Bradford back then and what happened at B. Smith’s last week, I think I know what all of the questions are about.”

  Barbara stiffened.

  “And I can assure you that I don’t get involved with married men. I don’t need to bother with them when there are so many single men out there who come without a lot of baggage. I hope you believe that.”

 

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