Honeymoon for One
Page 25
You’d think the government could’ve kicked in for that one since I was responsible, at least partially, for the arrest of several drug dealers, a major money launderer, not to mention the recovery of a multi-million dollar antiquity. Unfortunately, the authorities didn’t see it that way.
Since I had no furniture and no money to pay the rent, I ended up giving up my apartment, which wasn’t that nice but was still only four blocks from the beach, and moving into Jane’s second bedroom. It wasn’t all bad though. I now lived in a fancy high-rise building on Wilshire Boulevard with a doorman, valet parking, and a pool.
Jane wouldn’t let me pay her rent (she owned the place and kept telling me she didn’t need my money, which was true, but didn’t make me feel any less guilty), so I paid for the groceries she had delivered from the gourmet market once a week, and every time we ordered pizza and Chinese food. It probably ended up about even.
But living with Jane had other advantages. Two well-connected publicists and a magazine editor lived in her building and Jane mentioned me to them every time she ran into them in the elevator or the mail room. Three months later I was writing a monthly column for Westside Living and pitching celebrity puff pieces to all the major magazines. I wasn’t out of debt yet, not even close, but at least I was on my way.
Living with Jane also made the transition from bride-to-be to singleton a lot easier—fewer nights to sit home alone feeling sorry for myself. In fact, this weekend was the first weekend I’d be on my own since we’d returned. It was Jane’s father’s sixtieth birthday and they were having a big party for him back in Washington D.C. She wanted me to come, but I begged off, saying I had too much work to do. Which was partly true. I was working as much as I could these days. But I was also looking forward to some time alone.
Or semi-alone. Jack had e-mailed me earlier in the week and asked me if I was free for dinner Friday night. He was going to be in town for the day attending a seminar on the aging patterns of reptiles at the L.A. Zoo.
I wasn’t really sure what was on his agenda. After that last night in Belize, we’d hardly spoken. I gave him my phone number, but he never called, although he did e-mail regularly for the first few weeks. Then he wrote that he was going out to sea for a month to study Loggerhead sea turtles in their natural habitat before returning to classes in San Diego. That was two months ago. This was the first I’d heard from him since he’d been back.
The doorman buzzed me at seven-thirty to let me know that Jack was downstairs and I told him to send him up. I’d been pacing the living room in my best jeans and one of Jane’s designer camisole tops for half an hour already.
When I opened the apartment door the fist thing he said to me was, “Do you know how bad the traffic is in L.A.? It took me over an hour to get here from Hollywood.”
Not quite ‘I’ve missed you and I want to jump your bones.’ His tan had faded some, and his hair was shorter, but otherwise he looked the same. When he walked past me into the apartment, I noticed his scent had changed. The ocean and sunscreen had been replaced by store-bought aftershave.
“You look good,” he said, following me into the living room then a “wow,” when he caught site of the view. One wall was made entirely of windows, showing off the city lights from downtown to Santa Monica Bay.
“I’m just a houseguest,” I said, “It’s Jane’s.”
“If you’ve got to crash on someone’s couch, it’s not a bad place to be.”
I agreed.
“Where is Jane?” he asked, looking around the room as if she was about to jump out from behind the sofa. “Is she joining us?”
“No,” she’s out of town. “It’s just me.”
I’d hoped this revelation would provoke a lascivious comment, or at least a wicked grin. I hadn’t even had a date since I’d returned from Belize, and Jack and I were very compatible, at least physically. But Jack just nodded and strode to the front door.
“Where are you going?” I called after him.
“Close your eyes,” he replied.
“Why?”
“Lizzie!”
“Alright, they’re closed.” I heard the front door open, then close, and his footsteps along the tile. I opened one eye and glimpsed a huge cardboard box before he caught me.
“No peeking,” he said as his footsteps trailed away.
After a couple minutes more and another peek, I called to him.
“One more minute,” he yelled. It sounded like he was in Jane’s bedroom.
When he finally allowed me to open my eyes, he was standing before me with his hands in his pockets. “You ready for dinner?” he asked.
“What about the box?” I said.
“What box?”
“The one you just carried into Jane’s bedroom.”
“Uh-oh, is that Jane’s?” he said, nodding towards the master suite off the living room.
“Yes. Why? What did you do?”
“Maybe you better take a look.”
I ran in and didn’t see anything unusual except for an empty cardboard box turned on its side, but I heard splashing coming from the adjoining bathroom. I opened the door and found Fred swimming circles in Jane’s giant spa tub. He’d doubled in size since the last time I’d seen him.
“I can’t believe you brought Fred! How did you get him out of Belize?”
“It wasn’t easy,” Jack said, joining me in Jane’s bathroom. “And you can’t keep him. He’s just on loan for the weekend.”
“Why not?” Fred would be the perfect pet. He doesn’t bark, he doesn’t need to be walked, and he won’t shed all over Jane’s white suede furniture.
“Lizzie, look how big he’s gotten in just a couple of months. A year from now he’ll be three times that size.”
“But he’s my Fred.” I whined. “I took a bullet for him.”
“I know,” he said, his finger tracing the half inch scar on my shoulder. “But I’ve arranged it so you can visit him whenever you want.”
“Where?” Jack’s finger had moved from my scar to my bra strap and was sliding down the front of my shirt.
“I tried the L.A. Zoo but they wouldn’t take him. He’s going to the San Diego Zoo.”
“San Diego. That’s a long way to drive just to see Fred.”
“True,” Jack said, caressing my breast.
“Not that I don’t still love Fred.” I could hear my voice taking on a dreamy quality, but at least I wasn’t moaning. Not yet.
“Of course,” Jack said, his other hand reaching inside the back of my jeans.
“But he’s not the most demonstrative of pets.”
“Uh huh,” Jack said, kissing my earlobe before sliding down my neck. He may not have stayed in touch, but he hadn’t forgotten any of my erogenous zones either.
“And I’ll have to share him with all those other people.”
“I suppose I could arrange for a private visit,” he said, undoing the tie at the back of my shirt.
“At the zoo?” I asked, holding my arms up so he could slip the camisole over my head. How glad was I that I wore my black lace bra and matching panties, just in case.
“I think my apartment would be better,” he said, his kisses moving down my chest. “More privacy,” he added as he closed the bathroom door between us and Fred.
This time I didn’t stifle the moan, although Fred probably wouldn’t have cared.
# # #
Note to Readers:
We hope you enjoyed this book. For more information about the author and her other books, please visit her website at http://www.bethorsoff.com.
Table of Contents
Other Books by Beth Orsoff:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65