More Lipstick Chronicles

by Emily Carmichael

  “He’s an absolute idiot!” Elyssa told Elliot as she hung the last of the Christmas ornaments on the six-foot-tall tree in his brownstone on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Her brother had moved from DC to New York six months earlier and had already made a name for himself at the Times.

  Elliot sighed and handed her a cup of eggnog. “Sit. Over there by the fire.” He smiled, big brother amused by little sister. “You’re not seeing things clearly.”

  Dressed in red sweats in deference to the holiday, Elyssa dropped down on the floor and sipped her eggnog. December in New York was freezing, and she appreciated the warmth of the fire, which snapped and spit and blazed hotly. The comforting, smoky scent surrounded them. Elliot joined her, their backs against the couch. “You’re too sensitive about all this, Lyss.”

  She shook her head. “You haven’t heard the gossip, Elliot. Everyone from Dupont Circle to Georgetown thinks I slept my way into Highwire Industries financing Allheart.”

  “You know you didn’t. Joe knows you didn’t. That’s all that matters.”

  She shivered remembering the first time she overheard this particular rumor. She’d been the guest of honor at a Women in Business luncheon and had been in a stall in the restroom . . .

  “Elyssa Wentworth’s a terrific speaker don’t you think?” one of the women out by the mirror said.

  “Yeah. But she omitted a critical ingredient to her success. Sleeping with the boss.”

  “Yeah, well, have you seen Joe Monteigne?”

  “No.”

  “He makes you wet with a glance. I’d sleep with him for nothing.”

  “Well, our illustrious guest got him and his millions.” The women had left then, still dishing and dissing her.

  “It’s an unfair situation, Elliot. I worked hard to get where I am. I didn’t earn my career on any casting couch.”

  “Honey, you can’t let people’s gossip bother you. Or affect your relationship with Joe.” Elliot reached over, slid his arms around her shoulders and hugged her close. “I’ve never seen you more . . . content than you’ve been with him.”

  Elliot was right, and he had a way of cutting to the quick. “I miss you.” She smiled. “But I’m glad you’re happy in New York.”

  A boyish grin lit his face. “Happier than you know. I met someone, sis.”

  “Really?”

  “Uh-huh.” He sipped his eggnog but his warm hazel eyes sparkled with a gleam that hadn’t been there since his wife died a decade ago.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I’m not sure. I didn’t want to jinx it, I guess.”

  “Who is she?”

  “A second-grade teacher. She brought her class on a tour of the Times and I literally bumped into her.”

  “It’s serious.” Elyssa could tell.

  “Yes. Her name is Mary and—” The phone rang, cutting Elliot off. “That’s probably her. She said she’d call tonight from her parents’ house.” He grinned again. “I’ll be a few minutes.”

  “Take your time, lover boy. I’ll just watch the fire. I’m not going anywhere.”

  As soon as Elliot left the room, her own words echoed back at her. . . .

  “I wish you weren’t going anywhere for Christmas, Lyss.” She and Joe had been in his bed last night after lovemaking that took her breath away just thinking about it. “We should be spending the holiday together.”

  “I want to see Elliot.” She cuddled into Joe’s chest, inhaling his scent—woodsy usually, a little musky tonight. Truth be told, the thought of being separated from him on Christmas made her sad. Too sad. Which was one reason she definitely was going to New York.

  He’d grown still. “I know you want to be with your brother.”

  “And you should be with your family.”

  He hadn’t said anything more. Instead, he’d extricated himself from her, slid out of bed, donned flannel pajama bottoms and loped downstairs. She found him in his study, smoking a cigar. Usually she teased him about the macho habit he indulged in once in a while. But that night she hadn’t. What they’d gotten into upstairs was an old argument that needed to be handled gingerly.

  She dropped down onto the Aubusson rug, wearing the pretty ice blue robe he bought her to keep at his place. At his feet, resting her hands on his knees, she looked up at him. “I didn’t ask you to come to New York with me because you said you always spend Christmas with your family.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Elyssa.” He glanced up in the direction of his bedroom. “Especially not after that.”

  They were so close in bed. Maybe too close.

  “I’m not lying. I do want to see Elliot.” She tried to quell the note of impatience in her voice but didn’t succeed. “I’ve spent every free minute of the last six months with you, Joe.”

  “And you’ve seen Elliot every few weeks.” He sighed and took a thoughtful puff on his cigar. “I don’t begrudge that, or even you going to New York alone. It’s the reason you’re going alone that bothers me.”

  She’d stiffened. She hated it when he played psychologist with her but still, she tried to be placating. “It’s not what you think.”

  As if she hadn’t spoken, he said, “You’re going alone to maintain that distance between us that you insist on keeping.”

  “There wasn’t any distance between us a few minutes ago,” she snapped. “Or was I alone in that bed?”

  “No, there never is in bed. It’s outside of bed that you turn into the Ice Queen.”

  That stung. “Hey, we both agreed on distance, right from the start.”

  “Professional distance, yes. Look, I know the rumors bother you. I didn’t like defending myself to my partners either.” Highwire bigwigs had been understandably concerned when Joe told them about his personal relationship with her. But he’d withstood their doubt and skepticism, and fought to keep her in his life, regardless. “The gossip is a reality. But we can certainly rise above it.”

  “I know.” She grasped his hand. “That’s why I want to keep as much professional distance as possible.”

  “This particular distance has nothing to do with people talking. It has to do with your overblown fear of blurring the roles.”

  “Because you keep blurring the roles. Like today about Parker Quest.”

  Brushing her aside, he stood and stubbed out the cigar in an ashtray his father brought him from China. He crossed to the window and stared out into the night. “Maybe you should leave now. Let’s table all this until you get back from New York. Some time away from each other might do us good.”

  She’d risen and gone to him. From behind she circled her arms around his waist. “I’m not going to leave like this. Tonight or for New York.” She lay her cheek on his naked back, absorbing the heat of his skin. “Come back to bed with me.”

  He didn’t move.

  “Joe, please. Let’s not fight . . .”

  He’d gone back to bed with her, and their lovemaking had been so poignant, so close that it . . . scared the hell out of her, actually. She hadn’t come clean with him. She was afraid of their relationship, of how much she’d come to care for him. Of the control her feelings gave him over her. For a woman who’d depended only on herself for thirty-seven years, she couldn’t seem to get over that particular hump. Joe was asking too much of her. Which was why she didn’t relent and invite him to come with her to New York.

  Elliot drifted back into the room smiling broadly. “I’m done.” He dropped down beside her. “I need to ask you something.”

  “Anything.”

  “I know you came here to spend Christmas with me. But is it all right if Mary comes back tomorrow night to have dinner with us?”

  “Of course. I’d love to meet her.”

  Elliot shook his head. “We’re such saps. We can’t even stay away from each other for one night. Her parents had a fit when she told them she wanted to get back to see me.”

  “Sounds like true love.”

  He waited a minute, his mind
almost audibly clicking. “You could call Joe. I’ll bet he’d fly up here in a flash. We could make it a foursome on Christmas night.”

  “There wouldn’t be any flights available tomorrow, Elliot.”

  “If you asked Joe to come, he’d crawl on his hands and knees to get here.”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s not a good idea.”

  Elliot grasped her hand. “He only wants what any guy wants from his girl, Lyss. And he’s not going to stand for this push-pull indefinitely.”

  Staring at the fire, Elyssa was afraid her brother was right. But she was also afraid, deathly afraid, to lose herself in the boy wonder of Highwire Industries. Already her personal and professional lives were colliding. If she let herself really love Joe Monteigne, let herself go with him, would she ever find herself again?

  “I thought I ’d find you here.”

  Joe stood at the windows of his father’s study, staring out at the Virginia landscape. Christmas had brought a light dusting of snow that made Joe nostalgic for winters at Harvard. “You did?” He sipped the smooth Merlot his mother had served with their beef dinner.

  “Hmm.” J. Lance Monteigne settled into a big leather chair and put his feet up on the matching ottoman. “You used to sneak into this room all through high school and college when you had girl trouble.”

  “I used to sneak in here to escape the girls,” he said, nodding to the family room where his three sisters, all with daughters of their own, visited noisily with his mother.

  “Oh, come on. They took it easy on you today.”

  “Yeah.” He stared back out at the crisp night. “My mood must show.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  The red wine was tart on his tongue and warmed him almost as much as his father’s concern. “Not much to say, Dad. Elyssa wouldn’t come here with me and didn’t invite me to New York.”

  “Why?”

  Sighing heavily, he crossed to the couch opposite his dad and sank down. “It has something to do with setting boundaries, I think.”

  “Ah, an area where you’ve always had trouble.”

  Joe chuckled. “You should know.” Again he grew serious. “She keeps me in a compartment and I don’t like it.”

  “Why does she do that?”

  “I think she’s afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  “I’d guess her feelings for me.”

  Joe’s father didn’t comment.

  Finally, Joe said, “I’m not afraid of mine for her, Dad.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Joe, she’s endured a lot of negative speculation since it’s become public that you two are a couple. I know you asked her to go to Highwire’s New Year’s Eve party with you. That’s just the kind of blending of business and pleasure that seems to make her uncomfortable.”

  “I want her with me, damn it. It’s New Year’s Eve.”

  Lance just shrugged.

  “Okay, okay, I see what you’re saying. But this Christmas thing was all personal.”

  “Maybe she balks at the personal stuff because you push the other too much. If you laid off a bit, she might let you get closer.”

  Or maybe she’d keep drifting further away. The thought that he used their professional relationship to keep her tied to him was more than unpleasant.

  His father watched him. “Are you in love with her, son?”

  It was a question he wouldn’t let himself answer. Love was a word both he and Elyssa steered clear of. “I can’t afford to be in love with her.”

  Lance chuckled. “Never worked that way for me. When I met your mother—”

  “Sorry to interrupt.” Janice, Joe’s mother, stood in the doorway. She was a lovely woman of grace and style, with snow-white hair and a still-slender form. Joe had her eyes. “But did I hear my name?”

  Lance chuckled. “I was just reminiscing, dear.”

  She smiled at her husband then turned to her son. “You have a call, Joe, on this.” She handed him the cell phone he’d left in his jacket pocket. “It’s Elyssa.”

  Elyssa had met and spent time with the Monteignes and gotten along well with both of them. She shared a love of the outdoors with his mother and a keen insight into politics with his father. They’d had some pleasant evenings together.

  Lance rose. “I’ll leave you alone.” As he walked by his son, he squeezed Joe’s arm. “Remember what we discussed. Be patient and understanding.”

  His dad left, with his mother cuddled close, and Joe spoke into the phone. “Hi.”

  “Hi. Merry Christmas.”

  “To you, too.” Though it stuck in his craw, he asked, “Are you having a nice visit?”

  “Yes. Elliot’s on cloud nine. He’s in love, Joe.”

  “Really? Tell me.” She filled him in on the second-grade teacher. “Do you like her?” he asked casually.

  Her hesitation alerted him. “Yes, she’s lovely. Perfect for Elliot.”

  “When did you meet her?”

  A very long pause this time.

  “Elyssa? I asked when you met her.”

  “Today.”

  Ah, he got it. “So she spent Christmas Day with you and Elliot?”

  “Um, just tonight. She came back from her parents’ house in Brooklyn to meet me. Because I’m coming home tomorrow.”

  Her cavalierness toward him, about their relationship, knifed him in the gut. “I see.”

  “So,” she said brightly, “how’s your family?”

  “Fine.”

  “I spoke with your mother. She said you had a nice day. All together.”

  “We did.”

  There was a long, cold silence.

  “Well, I’ll let you get back to them.”

  “Fine. You get back to Elliot. And Mary.”

  “Joe, I—”

  “Listen, I won’t be able to pick you up at the airport tomorrow. Something’s come up.”

  “Oh.” Another hesitation. “I’ll just get a cab.”

  Nothing.

  “When will I see you?”

  “I’ll call you. Merry Christmas.” And he clicked off.

  His father’s words came back to him. Remember what we discussed. Be patient and understanding.

  Slamming his fist against the desktop, he cursed under his breath. No man in his right mind would be patient and understanding about this.

  Certainly not Joe Monteigne.

  Elyssa drew together the lapels of her leather jacket out of nerves as opposed to the cold. Actually, DC weather was mild for eleven o’clock at night the last week of December. She rang Joe’s doorbell with trepidation.

  Was he home? Was he with someone?

  Stupid. He isn’t that mad. No, he’s hurt.

  So hurt, he refused to pick her up at the airport when she came back from New York, and hadn’t called her for two days. Nor had he returned her calls. She was both afraid of and angry at his reaction, but she wasn’t going to ignore it, that was for sure.

  She pressed the bell again. This time she heard shuffling inside. In a few moments, the door opened. He stood before her in button-fly jeans and a Harvard sweatshirt. His hair was disheveled—beautifully so—and he wore his glasses, which told her he’d probably been working. She was stunned at her visceral response to simply seeing him. However, when he saw her, his gaze turned from curious to cold. She’d forgotten those sky blue eyes could cut and sliver in seconds. The last time she’d seen that reaction was when he presented Highwire’s initial proposal to her, and they’d fought bitterly over it.

  “Hi,” she said simply.

  “Elyssa.”

  She stuck her hands in her pockets. “Want to go for a walk?”

  “A walk? At nearly midnight?”

  “Hmm.” She peered up at the star-studded sky. “It’s crisp but not cold.” Tilting her head, she coaxed, “Come with me.”

  He stared at her hard. Finally, he said, “All right.” Reaching into a foyer closet,
he pulled on his battered bomber jacket, tossed his glasses on a table and grabbed his keys.

  In minutes they were strolling around Dumbarton Oaks, a breathtaking sight in the summer with its colorful and fragrant gardens of flowers. Even in December, the area was impressive.

  He said nothing. Clearly this was her show.

  “I’m not going to let you dismiss me from your life, Joe, if that’s what you’re planning to do.”

  “No, Madame CEO would never allow that kind of major decision to be made without her professional input.”

  She struggled to tamp down her temper. He often needled her exactly in the right place. “I know why you’re angry.”

  “Do you?”

  “We should have spent Christmas together.”

  “Bingo!”

  “I’m sorry.”

  That deflated him somewhat. “It’s not just that.”

  His conciliatory tone encouraged her to sidle closer.

  When he didn’t pull away—moved into her, too—she linked her arm with his. “Then tell me.”

  “It’s all your distancing gestures, Lyss.”

  “If you’re talking about work, it’s important to me not to blur the lines.”

  “The lines blurred the minute you slept with me.”

  His words were cold water in her face. “Well, that’s the painful, naked truth.”

  “It is the truth. I’m sorry about it. I wish I could change it. But it’s true. I know you’ve taken more grief over it than I have. And I know it’s hard for you.”

  “It’s embarrassing and unfair and I detest the gossip.”

  “I guess the question is, is it worth it?”

  She stopped abruptly.

  He got a few steps ahead of her, then stopped, too, and turned. “Is it worth it, Elyssa, to put up with a few cheap shots to have me in your life?”

  “Do you think there’s any doubt in my mind about that?”

  “Honestly, sometimes I do.”

  Slowly, she walked toward him. She raised her hand and caressed his cheek. His skin was cool and stubbly. “Of course withstanding the gossip’s worth having you in my life. Don’t you know how much I care about you?”