by Jill Winters
"Oh... I don't know."
"That's true," Corryn agreed. "I remember you were really into that for a while."
Adrienne shrugged. "Your father and I don't really need the money at this point."
"Not for the money," Billy said, balling up her gooey napkin and setting it to the side, along with Adrienne's and Corryn's. "Just for your own fun. Oh, I know! What about tablecloths? Remember when you made a bunch of different tablecloths that one year?"
"I just gave them as gifts," Adrienne said dismissively, but her eyebrows were cinched together. She was thinking about it; the wheels were starting to turn.
"People loved those, Mom. Don't you remember?"
"Oh, I remember I designed patterned napkins to go with the tablecloths, too," Adrienne added, her voice touched with pride.
"I know, they were gorgeous!" Billy enthused. "You should do something like that again, Mom! Not just tablecloths and napkins, but curtains, slipcovers, anything with fabrics."
"It's true," Corryn said, nodding. "You are kind of a fabric hound, Mom."
"True," Adrienne said, as her mouth curved into a smile.
"And maybe you could talk to Pen about it," Billy added, hoping she hadn't pushed it too far.
"What do you mean?" Adrienne said, tilting her head, uncertain but not unwilling to listen. Already this was progress.
"Well, maybe the two of you could work together sometimes. Maybe she'd be able to use the stuff you make in the rooms she designs. If nothing else, she could help you get started finding a market for yourself."
At this point Billy didn't know what to expect from her mother. Either she'd show a little growth by at least humoring her and saying she'd consider it, or she'd retreat behind her safe, self-righteous wall. "I don't think so," she said finally. Billy frowned. So that was that.
Then, as the three of them slid out of the booth, Adrienne said, "But I guess it wouldn't hurt to pick up some fabrics tomorrow." Billy smiled now. "Tomorrow" was really a fabulous word when it was used for good and not for evil.
Chapter 25
When Billy got to her brownstone later that night, Seth was waiting on the front steps, drinking a coffee from the Starbucks down the street.
"Hey," she said, smiling as she came upon him.
"Hey, you," he replied, coming to his feet. His dark blond hair was a little rumpled, maybe needed a haircut, and he could use a shave. In other words, he looked achingly sexy.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, a little afraid of the answer. Even though they were friends now, they'd slept together just the night before, and Billy's emotions were still all jumbled. Still, she knew one thing for sure: The more she fell in bed with Seth, the more she'd fall in love.
"I'm here to sleep over," Seth said, holding the front door of the building open for her after she unlocked it.
"You didn't have to come all the way here for that," Billy said, but she really did like the idea of him protecting her.
"Just to be on the safe side," he said. "I called you on your cell phone before to make sure you were all right, but there was no answer."
"Oh, I had my phone turned off in class." Please, she didn't dare draw any more attention to herself during Judy Smith's culinary boot camp.
As she made her way up the stairs, Billy's stomach knotted with worry that something would be on her door. Seth had given Joe the note from the night before, and Joe said he'd dust it for prints, see what he could find. So far nothing.
Now they got to the landing—thank God, nothing threatening there. Sighing, they exchanged looks; they'd both been thinking the same thing. When they entered her apartment, Pike Bishop didn't come to the door.
"'Pike?" Billy called circling around her apartment and into the kitchen, "Pike?" Fear gripped her chest, and her stomach clenched into a tense knot. Oh, God, where was he? Did something happen to her dog?
Oh, please, no! I just couldn't take that!
Just then there was a galloping racket on the back stairs, getting louder and louder—and in seconds Pike came barreling through the doggie door. Billy's heart lurched.
Thank you, God.
"Oh, baby," Billy crooned, dropping down on her knees, hugging him, kissing his face, and petting his fur, which was cool to the touch. She was so relieved to see him, and she realized that everything that'd happened had shaken her up more than she had let herself admit.
"Hey, boy," Seth said, coming up to him and rubbing his chin. Pike, who was usually guarded, was immediately warmly receptive to Seth. (But then, what creature of nature wasn't?)
When he straightened up, Billy hugged him. She didn't even think about it; it felt like the most natural thing to do because she was so relieved and Seth meant so much to her.
"Don't worry," Seth said softly, his voice dropping to a husky timbre that raked over her skin like trailing fingers. "Don't worry about anything." When she pulled back from the hug her cheek grazed his, and she looked into his eyes. Tension crackled between them, and Billy had to bite her lip to keep from biting Seth's.
"Well..." Billy said, stepping back to take a breath. Shucking off her battered green coat, she tossed it somewhere on her way to the living room. "You know you have to sleep on the couch, right?"
"The couch?" Seth said, following her. "Are you sure there's enough room for both of us? Well, I guess if we're naked, we can squish in...."
"Nice try."
"Thank you," he said, grinning.
"Seriously," she said, tilting her head up. "Are you still gonna stay with me?"
"Of course," Seth said, as if it were a crazy question. "I'm not leaving you alone; we've established that."
Taking a deep breath, Billy said, "Okay, well, then, I'll fix up the sofa for you." She turned to go, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him.
"No. You won't."
"Seth, please don't make this any harder than it has to be. We've talked about this. I don't think it's a good idea for us to be involved that way anymore."
"Congratulations. What I meant is that you're not fixing up the sofa for me, because the bedding's all still there from last night.—"
"Oh."
"How about we order a pizza?" Seth asked. "I'm starving."
"Yeah, that sounds great," Billy said.
While she rooted around for a menu, Seth played with Pike, tossing a pair of Billy's socks around for him to catch, sending him crazily around the apartment. "How about peppers and onions?" Billy said, returning to the living room. She wasn't the least bit worried about onion breath, because she wasn't—repeat, was not—going to kiss Seth tonight.
"Great," Seth replied as he pulled on the socks, which were hanging out of Pike's mouth, and Pike kept shaking his head, gripping them with his teeth. "How was cooking class, by the way?" he asked her when she set the phone down after ordering the food.
"Okay. My soufflé fell and the teacher hates me, but fine otherwise."
"Did you find out anything more about Ted's first marriage?"
"Unfortunately no."
Rubbing under Pike Bishop's chin, Seth smiled down at him, then tossed the socks into Billy's bedroom. Excitedly Pike bounded after them, and within seconds there was a loud crash, like maybe all her books had been knocked off her low bookshelf. "That didn't sound good," Billy remarked, shooting Seth a look.
"Sorry."
Twenty minutes later the buzzer sounded; the pizza was there.
After they ate, Billy said good night to Seth, who climbed onto the narrow sofa and tried, futilely, to get comfortable. Damn, he didn't want to be out here; he wanted to be in the bedroom—he wanted to be in her. But she'd made it clear that wasn't happening, and thinking about it was only going to drive him up a fucking wall tonight.
He needed to force himself to sleep, and to try to forget that his dick had stiffened half an hour ago and now was hard as a spike. He just had to get thoughts of Billy alone in that big, soft bed out of his mind, and make himself forget how she looked when she was lyin
g open and wet and wanting—when she was breathing hard and groaning, with her mouth dropped open as she climaxed.
Sliding a hand over his painfully hard, swollen cock, he noted that that train of thought wasn't helping, either.
"Well, good night," Billy said after she emerged from the bathroom, having brushed her teeth and put on her pink-and-purple robe.
"Night," Seth said, covertly rubbing his erection under the covers. His voice sounded raspy with lust, but he hoped she wouldn't notice. If she did, she didn't let on.
Poised at her bedroom door, she said, "Seth, thanks again for doing all this with me. And just remember... if you come in my room, Pike will attack you."
"Good to know."
After Billy shut her door, she leaned all her weight against it and exhaled a deep, shaky breath. Was she making the right decision by resisting temptation? She had to be; she was falling for him again and needed to rein in her emotions before she got crushed again.
In the meantime, Mark was more eager than ever to show her he cared, and that was flattering and sweet.
Flattering and sweet? Jeez, what about exciting? Elating? Too hot to handle?
Sighing, Billy climbed into her bed and slid under her thick red comforter. As she drifted off to sleep, she reminded herself she was being smart, being practical, that Mark Warner was every girl's dream. She told herself she could handle being friends with Seth, that nothing could scare her and nothing could break her.
And the thing was, she almost believed it.
* * *
That night Billy had a strange dream: Seth was making pancakes in Marie's Cafe, wearing only his jeans and a bandanna wrapped around his head. Billy wore her catering uniform. No matter how hard she pulled, her pink bow tie kept cinching tighter around her neck, and when she sat down at the table her black pants split. Georgette was there, too; she kept grabbing at Seth's crotch while Sally Sugarton and Pam the Tree looked on.
Then Billy's eyes flapped open.
She lay in bed for a few dazed seconds, processing the images still fluttering in her mind, just starting to grasp that they weren't real—and like a pile of bricks, it hit her.
* * *
"Seth, wake up! Seth!" She was sitting on the very edge of the couch, nudging Seth's shoulder, but apparently too gently, because he kept his back turned and his head buried deep in his pillow. "Seth." Finally she climbed on top of him, straddled his body, and hoped she didn't break anything important.
When he rolled over, his eyes opened drowsily, and his voice was a gravelly whisper. "Billy? What's wrong?"
"Seth, I've been stupid," she said.
"Oh, sweetheart..." He groaned and slid his arms around her waist. She could feel his hard, pulsing erection pushing up from under the comforter.
Obviously he'd mistaken her meaning. "No, no, not about that," she said, resisting the urge to pretend it was precisely that. "I mean about Georgette." The dream about Georgette all over Seth had given Billy an idea.
"Oh," he mumbled, disappointed. Sighing sleepily, he rose up onto his elbow, and then into the sitting position. His hair was sticking up in fifty ways, and even by the stream of moonlight he was breathtaking. "What is it?" he asked. "Did you think of something?"
"I've figured out a way to find out more about Georgette's past." Seth waited, and Billy bit her lip before adding, "But I don't think you're gonna like it."
* * *
The next day Billy and Seth were about to have a quick breakfast when the buzzer sounded. "Who could that be?" she muttered, and pressed the talk button. "Yes?"
"Hi, it's Mark!"
Oh... damn. Could there be a worse time for Mark's unbridled enthusiasm?
"H-hi, come on up," Billy said, not daring to glance over at Seth. Would he be jealous? Or merely apathetic? She didn't know if she could deal with either right now. Besides, it really wasn't like Mark to show up at her door unannounced; usually his work schedule precluded any spontaneity on his part.
Finally she looked at Seth, whose face was now inscrutably blank. "I guess Mark's in the neighborhood," she offered lamely. She knew she didn't exactly owe Seth an explanation, but at the same time there was no denying that this was awkward.
Momentarily there was a rhythmically perky knock on the door. Billy ducked out of the kitchen and opened the door, still in her tank top and pajama pants. "Hi, there... I'm kind of surprised to see you," she said, smiling pleasantly, and trying to actually sound surprised rather than disappointed.
"I brought doughnuts!" Mark said, holding up the bag as he entered her apartment. Bending down, he placed a damp but firm kiss on her mouth. "Have you eaten?"
"No." But when had that ever stopped her where donuts were concerned? Seth came out of the kitchen, and Mark's expression faltered. "This is my friend Seth. He's in town, so he crashed on my couch," Billy said quickly, and motioned toward the living room.
Mark shot a glance over at the couch, still covered with a comforter and pillow, and his expression eased. "Hi, how are you, buddy?" he said, approaching Seth with his hand out. "It's really great to meet you. Where are you from?" The two men were at eye level, but while Mark's eyes were open and inviting like a puppy's, Seth's were dark and guarded, like a wolf's.
They shook hands, and Seth managed a brief smile, but it was nowhere near as beaming as Mark's. (Of course, neither was Ronald McDonald's, but that was a whole other issue.)
"Nice to meet you," Seth said, then turned to Billy. "Listen, I've gotta run."
"Oh, that's a shame," Mark said sincerely, "but it was nice meeting you. Billy and I should take you out to see the sights sometime this week. That would be really great!"
"Right. Later," Seth said, and left. When the door slammed closed behind him, Billy's heart sank like a stone. God, he'd seemed... hurt.
While Mark ate doughnuts at the kitchen table, Billy brewed some coffee and tried not to think about the sullen expression she'd seen on Seth's face. Or the edge she'd heard in his voice right before he'd left. Sighing, she tried to figure out why it was so damn hard to be friends with him. Okay, she had to stop. Here she had a great guy like Mark, and she was more concerned about making Seth feel better than making Mark feel at home. He'd been there for nearly twenty minutes, and she'd barely paid any attention to him!
Before she got a chance to rectify that, however, her phone rang. She crossed the kitchen to answer it. "Hello?"
"Doll?"
"Oh, hi," she said, feeling apprehension creep into her chest. "Please tell me this phone call isn't going to involve Tuck Hospital," she remarked, surprised by her own bluntness.
"No, no, I've found something else," Kip said, and went on to describe an open position in the marketing department of a small finance company. Hmm... not bad. In fact, it sounded promising. And it wasn't like she could make ends meet forever working at the bakery. Getting a corporate job was the responsible thing to do (God, she sounded like her mother). The only hitch, Kip told her, was that she had to go for an interview that morning.
Billy agreed, suppressing a wave of ambivalence, and after Mark left she went to scrounge up her interview suit.
* * *
"So Kip tells me you have a lot of office experience?"
"Yes," Billy replied to her interviewer, who was disturbingly named Mrs. Cross.
"That you can type?"
"Yes, I can type."
"How fast?"
"Eighty words per minute," Billy said, adding an extra five words to the truth.
"Mmm, that's pretty good," Mrs. Cross replied with a brief nod. "And what about your communication skills? How do you feel about calling important people, greeting high-profile, powerful clients, presenting a professional and inviting image that represents the company?"
What was the right answer to that? That she felt fucking thrilled about it? As it was, she'd thought she was interviewing for a position in marketing, and only after she'd gotten there had she discovered that Bevlin Financial worked as an adjunct to Tuck Hospit
al—securing patronage and soliciting donations. At this point it was embarrassingly clear that without Tuck Hospital, Kip Belding would starve.
"The image you present reflects on me, of course," Mrs. Cross went on, glancing dubiously at Billy's hair.
Meanwhile Billy's head was swimming. The cacophony of printers whirring, fax machines beeping, and ten phones trilling at once was chaotic—maddening. She missed the serene work environment of the Churchill Art Gallery; she missed being in her own world, creating something, oblivious to everything else except the colors and images swirling in her mind.
"Now, as with all front-desk personnel, we'd provide you with a uniform of sorts so as to present a cohesive image for the company," Mrs. Cross went on. "It's a lovely melon-colored blazer with matching slacks." In other words, an orange suit. "In fact, I'd need you to try it on now, so I can see if I'll need to order a new one—assuming I decide to hire you, of course."
Okay, that was it. She wasn't going to take this job anyway, and she wasn't about to try on a used orange suit to spare Mrs. Cross's feelings. "You know what?" Billy said, struggling to be heard over fifty ringing phones clamoring and ricocheting off each other. "I don't think this is the right fit for me." She stood up and reached out to shake hands with Mrs. Cross, who just leaned back, eyes wide, stunned, as if she'd been slapped across the face.
Actually that image brought a smile to Billy's lips. She set her hand down and said, "Thank you for your time," and turned and walked out.
Once outside on the sidewalk, she felt an incredibly liberating sense of relief. Kip had done something very important for her today. He'd helped confirm all the little ideas and doubts swimming in the back of her brain; he'd helped her see that life was too short to be trapped in a job because she was afraid to take a chance.
He'd helped her realize that what she really wanted to do—no, what she intended to do—was to make a living as an artist. She had no clue how she would make that happen, but she was determined to figure it out.
* * *
"Thanks for the ride," Billy said as she and her dad walked toward the art gallery. David had given her a lift, deciding to do some fishing while he was in Churchill.