I dug out my wallet and was pulling out some cash when Carter threw a large bill on the table. “That plus what Beau left covers us quite nicely. Let’s say we all call it a night, shall we?”
“Is she leaving her soul mate to that floozy?!” Katrina’s voice really carried. I grabbed Katrina’s other arm to help steer.
“Definitely. That’s a wrap.” We all but ran to the exit, propelling a still-protesting Katrina out in front of us. Glancing to my left at Beau and Renee, I had to admit to feeling a tinge of jealousy.
Maybe more than a tinge. But he wasn’t my man and at this point, I wasn’t sure I wanted him to be. Beau was a grown man who made his own choices. I’d just have to get over my dislike of this one.
10
A Bad Idea . . . Dammit, Beau
Beau—Monday, May 2, 2:08 AM (technically the same night)
Renee had not changed. Not one freakin’ bit. No pun intended. She was still an equally adventurous and avaricious bed partner. Not that we’d made it to the bed the first time. Renee was a girl who liked sex. And I was a man who liked women who liked sex. We’d never had a single problem in that arena.
The problem was . . . me. I shouldn’t have gone home with her; I shouldn’t have made love with her. Three times. You know what? I couldn’t even call that making love. We had sex. Energetic, emotionless sex. We both had an itch, and we scratched the hell out of it until we’d had our fill.
The entire time I had the most uncomfortable feeling that I was cheating on Belle. Rationally, I knew I wasn’t, but that didn’t make the feeling go away. I didn’t want Renee. Physically for the moment yes, but all I really did here was (as Roman and Katrina say) “pull a Beau”: jack up a situation that had no reason to be jacked simply because I didn’t take a second to think things through.
I could see the truth in that. I made a bad decision off a knee-jerk reaction. That moment when Belle looked at me with zero feeling in her eyes and shrugged, that was a bad moment. I thought we were at least acknowledging the possibility of une chose—a thing—between us. But she said no. Quite vehemently. I wasn’t one to wait around for a firm no to magically turn to yes. Not me. I wasn’t that guy.
Still though...I couldn’t shake the feeling that this had been a bad idea. Dammit, Beau! A very bad idea. I rolled out of Renee’s bed and made my way to the bathroom. She hadn’t changed too much in here, either. I availed myself of a few toiletries and climbed into the shower. Setting the temperature almost to scalding, I rinsed the night away.
Using the spare toothbrush and paste I’d found under the sink, I started brushing my teeth. Speaking of bad ideas, what in the hell had gotten into Katrina? Besides too many ounces of bubbly? One minute she was chilling, the next she was screaming about skanks and soul mates. I almost hated having to go back there tonight. Times like this, a man contemplated needing his own space. I rinsed, tapped the toothbrush against the ledge, and set it on the tile shelf. Turning off the shower, I dried off and rapidly dressed. I knew where I had to go.
Stepping into the bedroom, I pressed a kiss on Renee’s forehead. “Merci, Renee. Bon nuit.”
She fluttered her lashes open and smiled. “No, thank you, Beau. You used to stay the night. I know how you like to be awakened in the morning.”
I trailed a finger across her mouth. “Such a naughty mouth on a pretty girl. Perhaps another time?”
“Rain check is always on the table between you and me.”
I wasn’t sure if I found that comforting, frightening, or depressing. So I just gave a short nod. “Good to know. Take care of yourself.”
She burrowed back under the covers. “You know I always do. Turn on the alarm on your way out. Code’s the same.”
With that, I headed for the door. Locking up behind me, I was in my car and heading south toward downtown in no time. It was 2:30 in the damn morning, and still there was traffic on Central Expressway! They had been “fixing” this road the entire time I lived here, which was over twenty-five years now.
Shaking off the irritation, I exited to the service road and headed up the back way toward Victory Plaza. By 2:45 I was striding through the lobby of the W Residences, knowing that in a very few minutes Belle would really regret giving me spare entrance cards to her building and loft. “In case of emergency only,” she had said. She surely didn’t think I would be the one with the emergency.
But here I was. I had to see her. Tomorrow morning (this morning, technically) in the office surrounded by staff just wouldn’t do. Letting myself in the front door, I slipped off my shoes and padded quietly through the condo. Her condo was a wide, open space with a great room that included kitchen, dining, and living areas. She had kept the previous owner’s beige contemporary furniture and spiced it up with rich pops of color. The master suite took up the back end of the loft and was the only enclosed space. I walked quickly to the master bedroom. Turning the doorknob silently, I swung open the door.
“What in the holy hell are you doing here?” she shrieked. She was awake, sitting up in bed with a remote control in one hand.
“Happy to see me?” I said. What else could I say?
“Are you out of your tiny lil mind?!” she shrieked with full Georgia in her voice.
“So that’s a no, chérie?” I figured as long as I kept her talking, I could eventually get a word in.
“You came stepping your ass up in my house, my bedroom, after leaving hers? You must be crazier than a June bug in the middle of December.” I wondered if she knew that her Southern accent snuck back in when she was riled up. Next thing I knew, the remote control came flying at me. Then the phone, followed by a bedroom slipper and a book. I dodged them all and got to the bed before she could throw the iPad, which I knew she’d regret.
I stopped her the only way I could think. I climbed over her, pressed her back into a prone position, and gave her a second to tell me to move. With no protest, I took her wrists in my hands and kissed her.
She bucked up against me in protest once, twice, a third time before she started kissing me back. Slanting my head to the right, I teased her with just the tip of my tongue. I didn’t want to overwhelm, just pique her interest a lil bit. She moaned softly and then stiffened. I knew what was coming. I jumped up and off the bed before her knee could hit its intended target.
She jumped out of bed, took two quick steps forward, and slapped me . . . hard. “You raggedy mother—”
“Language, Belle, language! You met my mother; that’s just insulting.” I couldn’t fault her for the slap. I had it coming. My eyes ran down the length of her. She was wearing a sheer pink wisp of a nightgown with nothing underneath, and I knew that I had settled for a pale facsimile of who I had really wanted tonight. I lifted my eyes slowly back to her face.
Her eyes narrowed. I could see her struggling to get her temper under control. She was breathing heavily. From the kiss or the temper or the slap? She took a total of ten deep breaths. I counted. Who knew she had a serious temper? Finally, when she had made the gratifying decision to neither slap me again nor throw me out, she reached for a robe.
“You don’t have to cover up on my account,” I said in a low voice, hoping to soothe. It didn’t work.
She slid the robe on and angrily yanked it shut, tying the belt once and then twice and then knotting it. “You are an indiscriminate asshole. To come from her bed and jump on me in mine . . . What the hell are you thinking?”
“I wanted to apologize for tonight. It . . . didn’t turn out the way I’d planned.”
“The way you’d planned?”
“The way I’d hoped and wished and dreamed about.”
“Don’t try and sweet-talk me, Beau. You are fresh outta another woman’s bed!”
I crossed my arms, leaned against the wall, and narrowed my eyes at her. “You said you didn’t care.”
“I never said that.”
“My bad. You said we were ‘nothing,’ and then you shrugged at me.”
“We hadn’t made
any promises to each other. In fact, we’d agreed to be just friends.”
She was trying my patience. “Are you deliberately being dumb or is this coy?”
“This is truth, sugar. We never said anything!”
“So you’re splitting hairs. This is semantics. Fine. So if you don’t care, why are you mad about Renee?”
“I didn’t say I don’t care, and I’m not mad!” She was screaming.
I watched her chest rise up and down in obvious agitation and observed as she clenched and unclenched her fist. I raised a brow in mockery. “Sweetheart, you’re visibly seething.”
“Kiss my ass, Beau.”
Hmm. One of my better dreams. “Just say when. I would love to kiss every inch of you, but we’re just friends right?”
“Aren’t you the one who doesn’t do relationships?”
“I never said that.”
She seriously looked like she wanted to take a swing at me again. She instead took a step back and asked, “Why are you here, Beau?”
“I wanted to apologize. Renee was . . . is . . . was . . . a bad idea. A mistake.”
“She seems to be a recurring one in your life.”
That left me speechless for a minute. Someone had loose lips. “Who told you?”
“What does it matter? I know about the two of you. Maybe that’s who you’re supposed to be with. You two keep finding each other.”
I wanted to make her understand. “God forbid I ever entertain more than a fleeting thought about Renee. She’s not it for me. She’s a barracuda who takes what she wants from men and moves onto the next. Trust me; she’s no more in love with me than I am with her. We have an understanding, her and me. It’s just sex, chérie. Something to passer le temps on our way to other people.”
She looked at me like I had lost my mind. “Are you kidding me? Am I ‘other people’ that you’re on your way to? Am I supposed to be flattered that you broke in here to apologize for sleeping with another woman? Sorry, what did you call it? Passing the time?”
Now I was getting frustrated. If she would listen for just a second. “No. I’m not stupid, Belle. But will you just hear me out? Without the attitude? For un instant, s’il vous plait?”
“Beau, if this situation was flipped—would you listen to what I had to say? For one second, without an attitude?”
“If I wanted to hear what you had to say badly enough, yes.”
“Fine.” She walked over to a chaise lounge she had placed by the wraparound balcony door and plunked down. She pointed at the chair across from her and fastened a scorching glare in my direction. “Pray, enlighten me.”
So she was going to hold onto the attitude. Fair enough. I sat down and leaned forward, placing my hands on my knees. “I think we both know there’s something here. Between you and me. Or there was, before I tripped over my dick tonight. But I truly believe if you can get past it and give me a chance, it will be worth it. I swear I’ll be a better person for you. Just give me the chance to make it right.” I had never begged a woman for anything. It chafed. Was I even doing it right?
She wouldn’t look me in the eyes. “To what end? You aren’t a one-woman man.”
“I could be for the right woman.” At least I thought I could be, especially if she was willing to be that woman.
“I don’t know, Beau. You seem to have a systemically failing history when it comes to women.”
Couldn’t deny that, even if I wanted to. “Not with the ones I’m serious about.”
Belle looked supremely skeptical. “And how many of those have there been?”
“Including you?”
“Are you saying you’re serious about me?”
“Deadly.”
“Why?” She looked genuinely befuddled.
“Why not?”
She went from confused to exasperated in the blink of an eye. “Not an answer, but fine. Then yes, including me.”
“Two.”
“Thirty-eight years old and you’ve only been serious about two women? And you just met me two months ago? How am I supposed to believe you? How am I supposed to take that?”
I shrugged and put my arms out. “You just should take it on faith and be flattered.”
“These are just words, Beau. You’re very good with words.”
“They’re all I have right now. Let me back them up. Let me build something with you.”
“I’m not sure you’re worth the trouble.”
“But you’re tempted.”
“That means nothin’ in the big scheme of things, darlin’.”
“It means you’re tempted.”
She shook her head. “Answer me one thing: Why did you sleep with her?”
I could’ve made up a smooth answer but I decided to just tell the unvarnished truth. “You didn’t want me; she was there.”
“That is weak!” She was outraged.
I shrugged again. “I’m a man who needs to be needed. Now you know my weakness.”
“At least one of them, anyway.”
I inclined my head. “I never claimed to be perfect. You have to take the good with the bad. Either you think the sum of the good outweighs the bad, chérie, or you don’t. So what do you say? Will you take a chance on me?”
“I don’t know, Beau. I just don’t know.”
I closed my eyes for a minute and took a deep breath. There was nothing else to do or say. It was all on her. I couldn’t make her listen to what she didn’t want to hear. As I got up to leave, the phone rang. I looked at my watch: 3:56 AM. Nothing good came of predawn phone calls.
She ran over to the door and began looking for where she had flung the house phone. Seeing it under a dresser, I snatched it and handed it to her. She glanced at the caller ID and answered. “Dalton, what’s wrong?”
I leaned in to listen. “It’s Dad, Mirabella. They think it’s his heart.”
She stumbled back, and I put my hands on her shoulders to steady her. “What do you mean? How bad is it?”
“We’re not sure. We were in Atlanta, staying at Loren’s house, so they’ve taken him to Emory. Can you come? He was asking for you.”
“I’m on the first plane out. Give everyone my love. I’m on my way. Hang in there. I’m coming.” She hung up the phone and went to the closet to grab a suitcase. She pulled out an orange and tan rolling bag and tossed it on the bed. Haphazardly, she started throwing things in.
“Belle.”
“I can’t deal with you right now, Beau. My dad, my family.” Her voice wavered.
“I know. How are you getting there?”
“Next flight, I guess.”
“What if it’s booked?”
“Why? What are you saying?” She shot me an irritated look over her shoulder
I walked over and put my hand on hers. “Take a breath, chérie. Process. Carter has partial ownership in an Execujet—it’s a private plane. I’ll make a call. You need to call Katrina and tell her to handle the Dallas office, and call Yazlyn to keep New York in the loop.”
She stared at me, unmoving.
“What? I’m a dick, but I’m great in a crisis. Let’s move. Make the calls, throw two outfits and a cosmetic kit in a bag, and head to the airport. I keep a bag in the trunk so I’m set. Move, woman!”
She went to retrieve her BlackBerry from the charger. “Wait, you’re coming with me? Why?”
“Because I want to, and I said so. Now put it in gear.” Ignoring her stunned stare, I turned my back on her and dialed Carter. “Dude, we have a situation. I need the jet.”
“Renee killed you with a Kama-sutra move and you need an emergency medical treatment? Belle tar and feather you? You need to make a break for the border?”
I cut him off. “No time for jokes. Belle’s dad is sick. We have to get to Atlanta ASAP.”
“Let me dial up the schedule right quick.” Carter’s tone turned serious.
While I waited for Carter to reply, I looked over my shoulder. Belle was in the living room talking on the phone.
Her suitcase sat open on the bed, half stuffed with random clothing that didn’t go together. Walking over to the closet, I selected three outfits plus jeans, and started packing them in her bag. I opened up the top dresser drawer to discover an explosion of lingerie. My mouth watered for a second, and I had to remind myself to focus. I pulled out three bras with matching panties and placed those in the bag as well.
Carter came back on the line. “You’re in luck; the plane is sitting in a hangar at Addison Airport. The other owners just cancelled a trip, so it’s yours. The pilot can meet you there in an hour.”
“You’re a prince among men,” I told him as I walked into the bathroom to look for the travel cosmetic and toiletry bag I was sure she had prepared somewhere. Once a model, always a model, ready to go at a moment’s notice.
“Don’t ever forget it. But you owe me, bruh.” Carter laughed.
“Name it.” I rummaged through the drawers and under the left sink.
“Set me up with your sister?”
That gave me pause. “Anything but that.” Katrina and Carter? I suppressed a shudder. Perish the thought. Like gasoline and a flamethrower, those two. I decided to pretend he was joking.
“No, huh? One day, tell me the whole story of what went down tonight?”
“That I can do. Soon as I finish living it.” Under the right sink I found the travel kit. I tossed the smaller bag into the suitcase and began to select shoes. Pumps, flats, and sneakers; into the suitcase they went. I pulled out a matching carryon and put her iPad and cellphone chargers inside.
“Safe travels, my friend,” Carter said solemnly.
“I’ll do my best.” I hung up the phone just as Belle walked back in the room. She glanced at the suitcase and shot me a look. Rummaging through it, she nodded and made a hmm sound under her breath. Then she looked in the carryon.
“You’re a man of hidden talents.”
“No comment. You need something to sleep in and whatever other electronics you want to bring. We meet the pilot in an hour for takeoff.”
“How did you . . .” She sighed. “Never mind. You’re damn handy to have around.”
Pretty Boy Problems Page 7