Bedding Mr. Birdsong

by Deborah Camp

  Matt spun back around to face him. “Sorry. Did you have something else on your mind? I looked over those ads for the breath mint and sent my notes to the team. They need a few tweaks, but nothing major.” His voice drifted away as Seth held up a hand. “Yes?”

  “I checked those out this morning. No, what I was getting at was that you’ve been surlier than usual. Something eating at you?”

  Matt shook his head and busied himself by slurping more coffee. That feeling – the empty, heavy feeling that was always with him now – moved from his chest down to his gut. He shrugged in a futile attempt to ignore it. “I need to get laid,” he said, trying on a smirk. “And I will take care of that this weekend.”

  “You know what? Now that I’ve hung out some with Zaney, it’s a damn shame that you two have that friendship pact.”

  “We don’t have a pact.”

  “Well, whatever it is that you two have signed off on.” He waved a dismissive hand. “She’s girlfriend material.”

  He frowned at that. “What’s that mean?”

  “You know, a girl you can take anywhere, have her meet your friends and family, and like hanging with, sleeping with, waking up with. Like Lonnie.”

  Matt pointed a warning finger at him. “You’d better watch yourself, Seth. You’re going to do something stupid like ask her to marry you.” The secretive grin that lit up Seth’s face had Matt slapping the desk with the palm of his hand. “You fucker! You’re already thinking about doing it? You’ve known this woman for what? A little more than a month!”

  “I’m not going ring shopping yet, but I know she’s like no one I’ve ever been with, Matt. Was it like that with Carin? Did you think about her every day – several times a day? I see something and I think, ‘I wish Lonnie could see this’ or ‘I’m going to tell Lonnie about this.’ I text her, call her, email her when I can’t see her. Her hours suck, which means I don’t get to be with her as much as I want. But when we’re together . . .” He placed his cup on Matt’s desk before leaning back and folding his hands behind his head. He grinned like a starstruck kid. “When we’re together? Man, it’s ultimate bliss. You remember how it was, right?”

  Listening to his friend’s feelings didn’t make him think of Carin. It was Zaney who blasted into his brain. She’d been in his thoughts and dreams for days, especially after rejecting him as a lover. With any other woman, she’d be history. Worse than history. She would have never existed for him. He would have slept with five or six other women by now, totally erasing the whole experience with Zaney from his memory banks. But here he sat, thinking of her with balls that ached and a heart that felt like a lead weight in his chest.

  “Matt? You get it, right?”

  He closed his eyes for a moment to get back on track. “Get it? Oh, yeah. Sure.” But he couldn’t let that stand. “I don’t think I was ever that . . . um, delirious about Carin.”

  Seth rocked his head to one side and gave him a puzzled smile. “How can that be? You married her.”

  “And divorced her.”

  “But you loved her.”

  “Yes, Seth, of course I did. But there are all kinds of love out there. What I’m saying is that I was never googly-eyed over her. We dated for three years before we were engaged, so we weren’t panting for each other. We’d gotten past that stage.” Were we ever in that stage?

  “Huh.” Seth sighed. “I make no apologies for how I feel about Lonnie. She makes me happy, in and out of the sheets. Every time I see her, I want to kiss her.”

  Images of Zaney’s mouth distracted him. Curvy upper lip and full lower one. It would look so pretty wrapped around his—. Damn it! He fisted his hands and shoved the picture of that aside. Frustration and sadness stirred inside him, winding him up so that he couldn’t sit still. He towered up from the chair and stood by the windows, hands in his pockets, his mind steeled against thoughts of a certain redhead and her delectable mouth.

  “I think it’s going to rain,” he said, glaring at the darker clouds building overhead.

  “And we’re back to the weather,” Seth said, rising from the chair. He came up beside Matt and hooked a hand on his shoulder. “Whatever or whoever is bugging you, I hope you sort it out. You want to vent, I’ll listen. You want to keep it bottled up, I’ll respect that, too.”

  “I’m okay, Seth. Just ready for the weekend.”

  “Sure. I get it.” He patted Matt’s back. “Have a good one, pal. I hope you get plenty of premium pussy.”

  Matt choked out a laugh. “Thanks for the alliteration.”

  After Seth left, Matt sat at his desk and gazed out at the gathering storm clouds as he drank the rest of his coffee. His administrative assistant poked her head in to say she was leaving and he realized it was five. He wished her a nice weekend, but didn’t move from the chair. He’d been recalling his courtship and marriage, finding it lacking in many areas and wondering why he’d been so blind to all of that when it was happening. Could it be that he’d set a low bar of expectation back then? His parents’ relationship had never been steamy. They always acted more like a brother and sister than a husband and wife. They bickered but never argued. They enjoyed each other’s company because they liked the same things – car rides, drive-ins, detective and lawyer shows, and their social life consisted of bowling and playing cards with a few other couples. A sedate, milquetoast relationship.

  Carin didn’t test him, didn’t challenge him, and didn’t try to change him. She took charge of where they would eat, what movie they’d see, and which friends they’d claim. In college, his passions had been tennis, the swim team, and making the dean’s list. With Carin, he had a social and bed partner through college and it worked. For both of them. After college, the natural progression was marriage. She handled all of that expertly, too, leaving him to devote his time and passion to his career.

  A low bar, indeed.

  However, he hadn’t been aware of that until Zaney Miller and her little mutt stampeded into his life with her dissertations on how men acted like dogs after sex and that he should install a turnstile instead of a door in his apartment. He’d seen her before they’d spoken to each other, of course. She was hard not to notice. Perhaps he had postponed talking to her because he’d somehow known that once he did, she would alter his course, rewire his brain, and electrify his heart.

  He’d been looking forward to taking her to Foster’s party and the evening had put him on edge because everything Zaney did cranked up his libido. When she’d moaned over her pizza, he’d thought he might physically combust. Then when she’d wiped pizza sauce from the corner of his mouth, his heart had punched him in the chest. How could she not know what she was doing to him?

  All week he’d strived to wean himself away from her. Fuck her if she didn’t want to fuck him! He had other women who would gladly share an evening with him in bed or any other flat surface. His stern lectures hadn’t done the trick. He still wanted her. He missed her.

  Swiveling around, he turned off his computer and tidied his desk. He stood with renewed purpose and a promise that he’d talk to Zaney again and make her see that being friends and lovers weren’t mutually exclusive. By now, she might have come to the same conclusion. He knew in his gut that she wanted him, too. He’d felt her body quicken and seen desire darken her lovely eyes to jade.

  Damn it! He’d enlighten her.

  That’s when every light in Manhattan blinked out, throwing the metropolis into darkness.

  Chapter 13

  The Getaway

  With a flashlight in her mouth, her keys in one hand and Frito Pie’s leash in the other, Zaney maneuvered herself and her dog outside where starlight and a half moon lent some natural light to the dark streets. People milled around and children raced each other along the sidewalks, skirting past people and giggling. Everything was an adventure to a child, but to the adults, this blackout was a big pain in the butt.

  She scooted Frito toward his favorite fire hydrant. When a hand skimmed down her
back, she jumped and smothered a squeak. Removing the flashlight from between her lips, she gasped, “Matthew!”

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. Does the dark make you goosey?”

  “Sort of.” She eyed him. With his suit jacket draped over his arm and his tie askew, he looked . . . tired. Blond hair flopped onto his forehead and weariness pinched the corners of his eyes and mouth. “You look pooped.”

  His chuckle confirmed her assessment. “I am. My office is on the fifteenth floor. That’s where I was when the lights went out – and the elevators stopped.”

  “Oh.” She nodded, getting it. “I was already home. I’m on vacation.”

  “You are? You heading somewhere?”

  She glanced around, confused, then realized what he meant. “No. I’m not going anywhere for my vacation. I’ve been hanging with Frito Pie.”

  Matthew dropped to a crouch to pet the scruffy mutt. “Hey, pal. Are you enjoying all this time with Zaney?” He glanced up at her. “It wouldn’t be as bad if it weren’t so stuffy tonight. Doesn’t feel like autumn, does it?”

  “No, it doesn’t. It was claustrophobic in my apartment. I had to get out of there. I hope the juice comes back on before morning.”

  “Last I heard they were saying by noon tomorrow. They’ve located the problem, but it’s going to take some time to repair.” He glanced around. “I don’t see the other tenants.”

  “They’re gone. Mrs. Winters went to Jersey to stay with her sister and the Farmingtons went to his parents’ place upstate somewhere.” She frowned and looked up at the sky where she could spot one faint star. “I miss stars. I had a friend who lived outside Buffalo and I visited her a couple of times. It was a small town – can’t recall the name – anyway, you could see the stars there. The sky was full of them. It was beautiful. So beautiful.” Smiling wistfully, she glanced down and felt her heart stutter at the tender, almost adoring expression on Matthew’s face. Embarrassed, she jerked her gaze away from his and felt her face flame.

  He straightened, shoving his hands in his pants pockets, and tipping his face to the sky. “I know a place where there are stars,” he said, his voice suddenly rough velvet. “Let me take you there.”

  Cutting her eyes to him, she tried to gauge if he were being poetic or serious. His gaze slid to hers and he smiled.

  “What do you say? Want to leave here and go see some stars?”

  “Go where?”

  “I have a house in Connecticut. A little place, but it’s quiet and picturesque. There is electricity there, too.”

  The temptation was strong and not just because it would mean getting out of the dark city. She craved his company. “I don’t know. Frito . . .”

  “Will love it.”

  “I could bring Frito?”

  “Of course. Wouldn’t think of leaving him behind.” He dipped his head to catch her gaze and his smile was pure temptation. “Come on. We’ll pack a few things. I’ll go get my car and we’ll escape.”

  “You have a car?”

  “It’s parked in a garage a block from here. You’re on vacation, Zaney. You need to go somewhere besides your apartment.”

  The enticement was too much and she laughed. “You’ve twisted my arm.” She started to turn away from him, then paused. “You sure about this? The lights might come back on in a few hours, you know.”

  “It’ll be nice to get away.”

  She shrugged and couldn’t keep from letting go of a little laugh. “Okay! Come on, Frito. We must pack. We’ll meet you back here in half an hour.”

  He winked. “A woman who doesn’t dawdle. I love it.”

  Wielding her flashlight, Zaney crept into her dark apartment and made it to her closet without banging her knees on the furniture more than five times. She wrestled her suitcase from the back of the closet and tossed it onto the bed. Without much thought, she flung a few casual outfits into it, some underwear, a pair of pajamas, a nightshirt, three pairs of casual shoes, a baseball hat, and a lightweight robe. Cosmetics, deodorant, toothpaste and toothbrush, hairbrush, shampoo, and birth control pills fit into an overnight pouch. She added tampons because the laws of nature dictated that, no matter when your period is due, you’ll start on your vacation. Hers was about ten days away, but a girl had to be prepared.

  As promised, she and Frito were outside the building again thirty minutes later. Matthew was already there with a rolling suitcase by his side and a flashlight in his hand. He tucked the flashlight under his chin, throwing eerie shadows over his face.

  “Ah, the children of the night!” he said in his best Bella Lugosi voice. “What beautiful music we will make!”

  Car horns blared around them and engines roared with impatience. Zaney winced at the cacophony of a big city full of irritated people. “Any music will be better than this.”

  “I agree.” He grabbed the handle of his suitcase and then reached for hers. “Let me carry that.”

  “No. I’ve got it.”

  He extended her a squinty-eyed glare. “Allow me to be a gentleman, Zaney, won’t you? Give me that suitcase, woman.”

  “Here, he-man. Take it.” She handed it over, then bent down and picked up Frito Pie. “Where’s Toodles?”

  “I called the pet sitter I use and she’s popping in to check on her while I’m away. Toodles doesn’t not travel well.”

  “Poor thing. Okay, well, lead the way.”

  With the lights off and nothing to do, people milled outside, filling the sidewalks and weaving around cars in the street. At one corner, six guys, sitting on overturned trash cans, played guitars and sang in beautiful harmony. Mothers sprawled on stoops and rocked their fretting babies or pleaded with their children to stay out of the street. Fathers let their kids ride on their shoulders as they stood about discussing sports and crooked politicians with each other.

  “I love this city,” Zaney said as she hurried to keep up with Matthew’s long stride. “Even now when it’s a pain in the butt.”

  “So do I, but I also love getting away from it every now and then.” He stopped in front of a multi-storied parking garage and set down the luggage. “With no electricity, I’ll have to key in a code to release the barrier arm.” Striding to the gate, he punched in some numbers and then lifted the black and yellow barricade. “Great. Stay here and I’ll bring the car out.”

  She issued a quick salute and he disappeared into the shadowy interior, his footsteps growing fainter and fainter. After a few minutes, she heard the purr of a car engine and the flash of headlights swept around the corner. A white, sleek sedan pulled up next to her with Matthew at the wheel. He stepped out, loaded their luggage into the trunk, and lowered the rail into place again. Zaney circled the car and ran her fingers across metal words.

  “Mercedes-Benz,” she said. “Nice, Matthew.”

  “She’s a beauty.”

  “She?”

  “Something this pretty has to be a female.” His teeth flashed in the dark. “Get in and make yourself comfortable.”

  The interior was red, plush leather. Zaney sank into the bucket seat and let Frito snuggle beside her. She fastened the seatbelt as she admired the interior. Looking up, she let out a little gasp.

  “It’s a convertible.”

  “Yes, but it’s too noisy tonight with all the honking and cussing to put the top down.” Matthew slid behind the wheel and buckled his seatbelt. “And away we go.”

  Smiling, she admired his profile, limned by the dashboard lights. “You don’t look as bone tired as you did earlier.”

  “I’ve caught my second wind.” He grinned at her. “You’ll like my house in Connecticut. It’s on the water and peacefully quiet. You can think out there, you know? Listen to your inner voice and figure things out.”

  “Where in Connecticut?”

  “Darien. Have you heard of it?”

  Heard of it? Uh. Yeah. Her breath stopped and she closed her eyes. What were the odds? A bitter laugh tumbled from her. When he’d mentioned Connecticut
, she’d recoiled inside, but then relaxed because he wouldn’t have a place in Darien. God, it was just her luck! It seemed that so much of their encounters were serendipitous.

  “Zaney? What’s wrong?”

  “Huh?” She blinked and composed herself. “Nothing. I thought I might have forgotten something, but I didn’t.” Should she tell him? She rolled her lips in, battling herself. If she said something about it, then she’d feel compelled to explain more and . . . “We should stop somewhere and buy a few groceries.”

  “Right.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as they sat in gnarled traffic. “Once we’re out of this mess, we’ll find a place outside the city. We can grab some things for breakfast and snacks and then do more shopping tomorrow in town.” He sighed and tapped his hands on the steering wheel. “This traffic is brutal.”

  “No traffic lights.”

  “Oh. Right. We’ll never get out of here.”

  “Yes, we will. Be patient.”

  He turned his head to look at her. “You’ll like Darien.”

  “I’ve been there.” She closed her eyes, turning her face away from him even though it was dark enough in the car that he probably couldn’t see her all that well.

  “Oh? What did you think of it?”

  “I was only passing through. I know that it’s the nation’s wealthiest town.”

  He cleared his throat. “Right, but like I said, my place isn’t a palace, so don’t expect much.”

  “If it has electricity, it’s a palace.” She swung her face toward him and gave him a quick smile, even though some of the joy she’d felt had diminished. “Why did you decide to buy a place there?”

  “Just happenstance, really. An employee’s uncle died and she mentioned that his house was for sale on Long Island Sound. I’d been thinking about getting a place outside the city, so I went to look at it. Only a two-hour drive – normally – and on the coast. It was perfect, so I bought it. Later, I learned about it being the wealthiest community in America, which is weird since there aren’t many jobs there. Everyone commutes.”