by Nora Roberts
“Who could blame you?” In support, Hayley patted Jane’s back.
“But I thought, I can’t just sit here like a rabbit hiding in my own apartment. So I opened the door, and don’t you know she walked right in, sniffed the air, ordered me to fetch her some sweet tea, then sat down.”
“Bless her heart,” Roz drawled. “Her ego never withers.”
“What floor’s that apartment on again?” Hayley squinted as she tried to remember. “Third or fourth, as I recall. She’d’ve made a nice splat if you’d tossed her out the window.”
“I wish I could say I did, but I went and got the tea. I was just quaking. When I came back with it, she said I was an ungrateful, wicked girl, and I could cut off my hair, get myself into some rathole of an apartment, fool some brainless ninny into giving me a job I was certainly unqualified to handle, but it didn’t change what I was. She said a number of uncomplimentary things about you, Roz.”
“Oh, tell.”
“Well, um. Scheming harlot for one.”
“I always wanted to be called a harlot. People just don’t use the word enough these days.”
“That’s what started getting my back up. I thought maybe she was entitled to call me ungrateful, because I was.” Jane fisted her hands on her hips, jutted her chin in the air. “My apartment’s not a rathole, it’s just sweet, but with her tastes it might seem like it, and she didn’t know Carrie—my boss?—so she might think she’s brainless to give me a chance. But she had some nerve calling you names when she’s the one who stole from you.”
Jane squared her shoulders, gave a decisive nod. “And I said so.”
“To her face.” Hooting out a laugh, Roz framed Jane’s face in her hands. “I couldn’t be more proud.”
“Her eyes almost bugged out of her head. I don’t know where the words came from. I don’t have much of a temper, but I was so mad. I just cut loose on her, said all the things I hadn’t hardly let myself think when I was living with her, and waiting on her hand and foot. How she was mean and spiteful and no one had an ounce of affection for her. How she was a thief and a liar, and she was lucky you hadn’t called the police on her.”
“Get you.” Hayley gave her an elbow nudge. “That’s better than tossing her out the window.”
“And I wasn’t even done.”
“Keep right on going,” Hayley prompted.
“I said I’d beg on the street before I’d come back and be her whipping girl. Then I told her to get out of my apartment.” Jane threw out an arm and pointed. “I gestured, just like this? Sort of over the top, I guess, but I was wound up. She said I’d regret it. I think she might’ve said I’d rue the day, but I was so stirred up I didn’t pay much mind. And she left.”
She blew out a breath, waved a hand in front of her face. “Whew.”
“Why, Jane, you’re a Trojan.” Roz took her hand, gave it a squeeze. “Who’d have thought?”
“It didn’t end there, exactly. She tried to have me fired.”
“That bitch.” Hayley’s face darkened. “What did she do?”
“She went to Carrie, told her I was a woman of loose morals, how I’d had an affair with a married man, and that I’d stolen from her when she’d graciously taken me into her home. Said she felt it was her Christian duty to warn Carrie about me.”
“I’ve always thought there were special front row seats in hell for Christians such as Clarissa,” Roz commented.
“When Carrie called me into her office and told me she’d been there, what she’d said, I was sure I was going to be fired. Instead she asked me how I’d stood living with that horrible old crow. That’s what she called her. And the fact that I had told her I had a lot of patience and fortitude, which she thought were good qualities in an employee. Since I had them and had proven I was willing to work hard and learned fast, she was giving me a raise.”
“I like Carrie,” Hayley decided. “I’d like to buy her a drink.”
“THERE’S NOTHING BETTER than a happy ending.” Unless, Hayley decided, it was sitting in the shade on the glider, sipping a cold drink while Lily played on the grass. And Harper swung beside her.
“It’s always a happy ending when Cousin Clarissa gets the heave-ho. She used to terrorize me when I was a kid, whenever she came around. Before Mama booted her out.”
“Know what Jane said she called your mama?”
“No.” The relaxed expression on his face settled into cold stone. “What?”
“A harlot.”
“A . . .” The stone broke into a huge, rolling laugh that had Lily clapping her hands. “A harlot. God, Mama would love that.”
“She did. You really know her, don’t you? It was just such a good morning. Pushed all the bad stuff away awhile. Seeing somebody who’d discovered themselves the way Jane has, or is, I guess. The one time I met her before? She was practically invisible. Now’s she’s, well, she’s pretty hot.”
“Yeah? How hot?”
She laughed, elbowed him. “Never you mind. One cousin at a time.”
“Exactly what kind of cousins are we anyway? I’ve never figured it out.”
“I think your daddy and mine were third cousins, which makes us fifth. At least, I think. Maybe we’re fourth cousins once removed. It could be third cousins, twice removed. I can never get it just right in my head. And there’s half blood in there, too with my great-grandmother’s second marriage—”
It was probably just as well he stopped her mouth with his. “Kissing cousins covers it,” he decided.
“Works for me.” Because it did, she leaned in to take his mouth again.
Lily interrupted with a few squawks and babbles, tugging on Harper’s legs until he hauled her up. Curling her arm around his neck, she pushed Hayley back.
“Well, I guess that shows me.” Amused, Hayley leaned in again, and Lily pushed her back and wrapped tighter to Harper.
“Girls are always fighting over me,” he said. “It’s a curse.”
“I bet. That one you were with last New Year’s Eve looked like she could scratch and bite.”
He smiled at Lily. “I don’t know what she’s talking about.”
“Oh, yes, you do. The blonde with about a yard of hair and perfect Victoria’s Secret breasts.”
“Yeah, the breasts are coming back to me.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say!”
“You started it. Amber,” he said with a chuckle as he lifted the baby high over his head to make her laugh.
“Of course. She looked like an Amber.”
“She’s a corporate lawyer.”
“She is not.”
“God’s truth.” He held up a hand like a man taking an oath. “Beautiful doesn’t have to mean bimbo, of which you are living proof.”
“Good save. Were you serious—and forget that spilled out. I hate when women, or men for that matter, poke into past relationships.”
“You showed me yours. Not serious. She didn’t want serious, neither did I. She’s focused on her career right now.”
“You ever been serious?”
“I’ve approached the parameter of serious a few times. Never crossed over into the zone.” He sat Lily between them, snugging her in so she could swing.
Better leave it at that, Hayley told herself. Leave it comfortable with the three of them lazing on the glider with the bees humming in the hazy heat and the flowers bursting through it with bold summer colors.
“This is the best part of summer,” she told him. “Evening shade. It seems like you could sit where you are for hours, without a single important thing to do.”
“Don’t want to get away from here awhile?”
“Not tonight. I wouldn’t want to leave Lily two nights running.”
“I was thinking we could take her to get some ice cream after dinner.”
Surprised, she looked over. Then wondered why she’d been surprised he’d suggest it. “She’d love that. So would I.”
“Then it’s a date. In fact, why do
n’t we go out, get a burger and finish it off with ice cream?”
“Even better.”
STEAMY JULY MELTED into sweltering August, days of white skies and breathless nights. It seemed almost normal, almost peaceful as day blended into day.
“I’m starting to wonder if just finding out her name was enough.” Hayley potted up pink and yellow pentas. “Maybe the fact we worked to find it, and how she’s Roz’s great-grandmother’s, satisfied her, calmed her down.”
“You think she’s done?” Stella asked her.
“I still hear her singing in Lily’s room, almost every night. But she hasn’t done anything mean. Every once in a while I feel something, or sense something, but it fades away. I haven’t done anything weird lately, have I?”
“You were listening to Pink the other day, and talking about getting a tattoo.”
“That’s not weird. I think we should both get tattoos—a flower theme. I’d get a red lily, and you could get a blue dahlia. I bet Logan would think it was wicked sexy.”
“Then let him get the tattoo.”
“Just a little one. A girly one.”
“I think girly tattoo is an oxymoron.”
“Absolutely not,” Hayley protested. “Flowers, butterflies, unicorns, that kind of thing. I bet I could talk Roz into getting one.”
The idea had Stella tossing back her red curls and laughing. “Tell you what, you talk Roz into getting a tattoo and . . . Nope, I still won’t join the party.”
“Historically, tattoos are ancient art forms, back to the Egyptians. And they were often used to control the supernatural. Since we’ve got some heavy supernatural going on, it would be like a talisman, and a personal statement.”
“My personal statement will be refusing to let some guy named Tank carve a symbol—girly or otherwise—into my flesh. Just call me fussy. Those look good, Hayley. Very sweet.”
“Customer wanted sweet, and the yellow and pink are her daughter’s wedding colors. These’ll make nice centerpieces for the wedding shower. I think I’d shoot for something a little bolder, a little punchier myself. Maybe jewel tones.”
“Something you’re not telling me?”
“Hmm?”
“Bride colors on your mind?”
“Oh, no.” She laughed and set a completed pot aside. “No, nothing like that. We’re just, Harper and me, we’re just taking it slow. Really, really slow,” she added with a huff of breath.
“Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“Yeah, I did. I do. I don’t know.” She blew out another breath, fluttering her bangs. “It’s smarter. It’s more sensible to take things really easy. There’s a lot at stake most people don’t have to consider. Like our friendship, and the work, and our connection to Roz. We can’t just jump into the sack because I’ve—we’ve got an itch.”
“But you want to jump into the sack.”
Hayley slid her eyes over to Stella’s. “I was thinking more dive in, headfirst.”
“Why don’t you just tell him, Hayley?”
“I made the first move. He’s got to make this one. I sure as hell hope he picks up speed pretty soon.”
“I’M TRYING NOT to rush her.” In the kitchen, Harper drained the better part of a can of Coke. He rarely broke for lunch, but early afternoon meant there would be no one in the house but David.
“You’ve known her going on two years, Harp. That’s not just not rushing, that’s standing still.”
“It was different before. We’ve only just started seeing each other this way. She said she wanted slow. I think it’s killing me.”
“I don’t think people actually die from sexual frustration.”
“Good. I’ll be the first. I’ll be written up in medical journals posthumously.”
“And I’ll be able to say I knew him when. Here, eat.”
Dubiously, Harper poked at the sandwich David set in front of him. “What is this?”
“Delicious.”
Without much interest, Harper picked up the sandwich. “What is this?” he asked again after a sampling bite. “Lamb? Cold lamb?”
“With a touch of nectarine chutney.”
“That’s . . . pretty damn good. Where do you come up with—no, no, stay on target.” He took another bite. “I’m good at reading women, but I can’t get a handle on her, on this. It’s never been important before—not this way—so I keep clutching.”
With his own sandwich, David slid across from him. “It is good you came to me, young student, for I am the master.”
“I know. I thought about just walking over one night, maybe with a bottle of wine, knock on her terrace door. The direct approach.”
“It’s a classic for a reason.”
“But she’s nervous about Amelia, about having any sort of, you know, encounter, in the house. At least that’s my take.”
“Is encounter code for hot sex?”
“Damn you, you’re too clever for my pitiful ruses. Anyway, I could have her and Lily over for dinner, and after the baby was asleep—a little wine, a little music.” He shrugged and felt he was riding around the same circle again.
“There’s also a reason why fine hotels have room service and Do Not Disturb signs.”
“Room service?”
“Work with me, Harp. You take her out to dinner—fancy dinner. Let’s try the Peabody. They have lovely rooms, lovely service, fine food—in-room dining.”
Chewing thoughtfully, Harper played it out in his head. “I take her out to dinner—in a hotel room? Don’t you think that’s a little . . . brilliant,” he decided after a moment.
“Yes, I do. Wine, candles, music, the works, all in the elegant privacy of a hotel suite. You’ll be bringing her breakfast in bed the next morning.”
Harper licked chutney off his thumb. “I’d need a two-bedroom suite for that. Lily.”
“Your mama, Mitch, and I would be more than happy to entertain the charming Lily for a night. And to show your amazing forethought—or mine—I’ll pack an overnight bag for Hayley. You’ll just have to get the room, take her things in, arrange the service, set the scene. Then sweep her up there and off her feet.
“This is a good idea, David. I should’ve thought of it myself, which just shows how messed up in the head she’s got me. I’ve got to get back, talk Stella into juggling the schedule so I can pull this off. Thanks.”
“I’m always here to serve the course of true love, or at least hot hotel sex.”
SHE WORE HER red dress. It was the nicest she had, and she liked the way it looked on her. But she wished he’d given her time to go out and get something new. All their other dates had been casual.
He’d seen her in this dress. The fact was, he’d seen her in everything she owned.
Still, she had great shoes. Roz’s cast-off Jimmy Choo’s that probably cost three times what the dress did. And worth every penny, Hayley decided as she turned in front of the full-length mirror. Just look what they did for her legs. Sexy instead of skinny, she decided.
Maybe she should wear her hair up. Lips pursed, she scooped it off her neck, angling her head this way and that to check the effect.
“What do you think?” she asked Lily, who was sitting on the floor busily putting a pile of little toys in Hayley’s oldest purse. “Up or down? I think I can pull the up-do off, if I keep it sort of tousled. Then I could wear those cool earrings. Let’s try it.”
When a man said he wanted to take you out to a special dinner, she decided as she pinned and re-pinned, the least you could do was pull out all the stops, appearance-wise.
Right down to the underwear. At least that was new—and purchased recently with the idea that eventually he’d see her in it.
Maybe tonight, if they could extend the evening a little. He could come back here with her. She’d just have to block Amelia out of her mind. Block the idea that Harper’s mama was right in the other wing. That her own daughter was in the next room.
Why the hell did it have to be so complicated?
>
She wanted him. They were both young, free, unattached, healthy. It should be simple.
Becoming lovers should have weight. She remembered Harper’s words. Well, the situation had weight. It was time she started thinking of that as a plus instead of a minus.
“I’m the one making it weird, Lily. I can’t seem to help it. But I’m going to try.”
She put on the earrings, long, flashy gold dangles, considered a necklace and rejected it. The earrings made the show. “Well.” She stepped back to do a little turn for her daughter. “What do you think? Does Mama look pretty?”
Lily’s response was a mile-wide grin as she dumped everything out of the purse.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Hayley said, then turned back to the mirror for one last check.
The breath left her body so fast her head went light.
She wore a red dress, but not the thin-strapped, short-skirted number she’d had for more than two years.
It was long and elaborate, cut low so that her breasts rose up to be framed by the silk with a cascade of rubies and diamonds spilling down over the exposed flesh.
Her hair was piled high in an elaborate confection of shining gold curls with a few arranged to frame a striking face with lush red lips and smoldering gray eyes.
“I’m not you,” she whispered. “I’m not.”
She turned deliberately away, crouched to pick up scattered toys with trembling fingers. “I know who I am. I know who she is. We aren’t the same. We aren’t alike.”
Chilled with a sudden panic, she spun back again, more than half afraid she’d see Amelia step out of the glass, and become flesh and blood. But she saw only herself now, with her eyes too wide and dark against her pale cheeks.
“Come on, baby.” She grabbed Lily, and at the baby’s wail of protest, snatched up the old purse, then her own evening bag.
She made herself walk at a reasonable pace, and slowed even that as she approached the stairs. Roz would see the shock on her face, and she didn’t want to talk about it. Just for one night she wanted to continue the illusion of normal.
So she took her time, got her breath back, got her features under control. She strolled into the main parlor with Lily on her hip and a smile on her face.