And now she had to know. And she didn’t care how it came out: blunt was best with Regan. “He was there last night, wasn’t he? That’s why you didn’t call back. Did you sleep with him?”
Regan didn’t answer.
“After all you’ve been through, after his rejection of every possible overture, after the spectacle you made with him at your party, and after the sheer stupidity of taking him on as a client? You just fell into his arms after all you put him through and fucked him?”
Oh, God, this was worse than she ever could have imagined. Angie’s fury, the mother’s alienation, Bobby’s folly and determination… her own inescapable need—of course they were on a collision course… it was the only possible end to seven years’ repression and isolation.
“Why don’t we call it a morning, Ang, before anything else gets said that shouldn’t.” And, heaven knew, already there had been enough.
Angie reached for her bag. “I think everything’s been said. I think there’s nothing more to be said except stay away from my brother.”
Stay away…
She threw down five dollars and stalked out of the restaurant.
No sex… ever again—
Regan buried her head in her arms.
Of course it had turned into a disaster.
… maybe you should just go away…
* * *
Chapter Seven
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She felt so distraught she didn’t know what to do. It just wasn’t possible that Angie had harbored such feelings all these years and she hadn’t known it.
But maybe it was. Or maybe Bobby was the catalyst. But why, she couldn’t conceive for the life of her unless Angie wanted for Bobby what his mother had always wanted: good blood, good bones, good breeding.
And no liaisons with the likes of her.
She called Tony on her cell.
“Angie hates me.”
“Angie doesn’t hate you. Tell me what happened. No, on second thought, let me guess. Bobby.” God, there hadn’t been a moment that wasn’t fraught with Bobby since the party. Since he, looking at the bigger picture, had taken Bobby on as a client. Since Regan had been five minutes in his company.
He was tired to hell of Bobby. And his foreboding about what Regan was going to tell him that he didn’t want to know.
“Bobby.”
Tony closed his eyes. Enough. “I don’t want to know about it.”
“But Angie—”
“She’ll get over it, whatever it is. She always does. And I guess I will too.”
“Tony… ? She was so angry—”
“Well, that’s the thing with Bobby. You either love him or hate him. And everyone knows what side of that fence you’re on, Regan. So… spare me the soap opera details. You know what you’re doing. And now you know how Angie feels about it—and, now—I guess—me. So, take your meetings this morning, and let me know how they went. I’ll see you later at the office.”
And what had she expected? Regan thought as she tucked the phone away. That Tony would be thrilled? That he’d say Angie was wrong? That he’d say everything was going to be just fine?
Tony had said that for years, but now that Bobby was a reality in their lives, things weren’t going to be fine at all. And she didn’t know what had ever made her think they would be.
And all she’d done was traded a night of incandescent pleasure for a whole new menu of lies.
It didn’t work, it didn’t work, it didn’t work…
She didn’t know where to run, what to do. Bobby and Regan, Bobby and Regan… for seven years she’d managed to keep them apart, managed to keep Bobby in Chicago, managed to keep her mother mollified, and managed to maintain a friendship with Regan so she’d always know where Regan was, and what she was up to.
And now this. Not even her just falling into his arms after all these years was enough to deter Bobby. God, he needed help, he needed therapy, if that slut was what his dreams were made of. If he thought he would bring that tramp back into the family.
Never. Ever.
“Tony… !” She slammed into the office. Regan would be along soon, too soon for her to really talk to Tony.
He was at the front desk, and on his feet the moment he saw her face.
“He didn’t come home. They fucked last night. Oh, goddamnit—they fucked last night.”
He held out his arms and she walked straight into them.
“How do you stand it,” she demanded. “How?”
Tony stroked her hair. “I don’t know how I stand it, year after year, picking up the pieces. Maybe the fact she’s never wanted to screw me makes her all that much more desirable. I don’t know. I never knew. But this is one humpty-dumpty I don’t want to put back together again.”
“I just left her at the diner.”
“I know. She called. And there you go: who’s the first one she thinks of when she’s upset? Well, she’d better get un-upset real fast: she’s got a second meeting with Cargill, and a new client who’s interested in the el area. She won’t be back for hours. Which is a good thing.”
“Thank God,” Angie murmured. “I said things. I’m glad I said them. But it’s ruined everything. She ruined everything. Oh, Tony…” She burrowed her face into his shoulder. “Why couldn’t she just leave Bobby alone?”
Wasn’t that the question? Or further still, why couldn’t Bobby just leave her alone?
“Let’s go into my office before the rest of the staff gets here, and we’ll talk some more.”
She drew in a shuddering breath. “I don’t know what to do, I just don’t know what to do.”
“Coffee?”
She shook her head, and he left a note on his secretary’s desk, and herded her into his office. “Take off your coat. Sit down. Take it slow.”
She slipped out of her coat, hung it on the door and turned to face him.
She didn’t have to say it. It was in her eyes, and her need reflected his own. They both needed comfort—they needed each other.
And he wondered why they’d never thought of doing this as he closed the door and eased her to the floor.
~•~
She shouldn’t have called Tony. The thing between her and Bobby was just that, between them, and it was no one’s business.
No one’s business that she went back to the apartment to reassure herself he was still there, still hers. No one’s business how they might spend the ensuing hour that she was scheduled for a business meeting.
Bobby was her business, but it really was time to get back to the office, she thought, eyeing the clock on the kitchen wall.
“I like nipples for breakfast,” Bobby said, nuzzling her breasts. “I want you for breakfast, every day.” He sat up abruptly. “I want you, Regan.”
“I think I know that.”
“I mean, I want you back. I want a life, love, marriage, all the stuff that comes with it—with you.”
She sat very still for a moment, stunned. Somehow, she didn’t expect this. Not on top of Angie’s diatribe this morning. And not while what was between them now was so new and fragile.
And breakable.
Somehow she thought he was just getting his rocks off, scratching that seven year itch, fucking her for as long as she didn’t bore him, and going on from there.
And she’d been willing to accept that the moment she’d agreed to yes, sex.
Or had she?
“I think you’re still dreaming,” she said finally.
“I think a man wants to marry any woman who has the talent to keep those damned shoes on even when she’s fucking. Regan—”
“What?”
“I’m serious.”
“You think you are. But you don’t bring girls like me home to Mother. You’ve seen the results.”
“For Christ’s sake. That wasn’t a fairy tale, Regan. I came back for you, plain and simple. I earned you. That’s how I thought of it. I was working my way back to you. Putting in time, growing up, working t
o deserve you.”
“Don’t—don’t…”
“I gave Angie dozens of messages for you after I left…”
Angie? Her friend. Her confidante—all those years—?
No, Bobby didn’t ask for you. He doesn’t want, doesn’t need, doesn’t care…
Ohmigod, Angie. No wonder, no wonder…
She made a sound that was almost heartbreaking as the ramifications of that admission sunk in.
He got the picture, instantly. “Shit.” Every goddamned body conspiring against him, were they? Not anymore, damnit. “Regan? Don’t cry.”
“I’m not.”
“Good. We’ve got work to do.”
“What work?” she asked suspiciously through her tears.
“Marketing. And spin. I’m taking control of this mess and I’m putting an end to it.”
Tony. Of all the unexpected things.
Tony…
Was it mutual need or mutual vengeance?
In the aftermath of their furious coupling, Angie didn’t know quite what to do, or even what to think.
“Hell, don’t think,” Tony encouraged her. “Just feel. We’ve both sat on our feelings for too long. Sat on possibilities, and almost murdered our own desire to be loved.”
“But you’ve wanted her for so long…”
“Maybe I thought I did,” Tony said. “Maybe it’s habit. Maybe it’s territorial. I was completely content until you told me Bobby was back in town. It didn’t matter if she didn’t sleep with me as long as she wasn’t sleeping with anyone else. And she wasn’t, Ang.”
“You don’t know what she was doing.”
“And you do?”
“She’d have what she called a cat’s night out. She’d just go on the prowl in the clubs, and maybe just get off on it.”
“Or she said she did, to make us all crazy,” Tony suggested. “And you know what, I’m tired to death of talking about Regan. I want to talk about us.”
But could there be an us when there was a Regan? She poisoned everything, and Angie wanted revenge somehow for everything Regan had ruined.
But revenge for what? Bobby didn’t need it. He’d walked into her web with his eyes wide open and he didn’t care. Tony didn’t need it: he knew exactly what she was, and he hadn’t cared either. At least until now. And she wasn’t at all sure it was over: but it was pretty clear he finally was ready to have it be.
Her mother? Too late for Mother. Mother would live with her unrequited hatred forever. And when Bobby walked in the door with the marriage license, Mother would divorce him.
Herself? But hers was the biggest betrayal of all, pretending to be Regan’s friend all these years, and secretly working to keep her from ever seeing Bobby again.
Hers was the worst sin, the most egregious corruption. She’d coopted Regan’s life because she had none of her own—was scared to make one of her own, and then she’d done everything she could to subvert it.
She felt the air go out of her like a helium balloon. There was nothing to fight, and nothing left to fight for.
There was only Tony, watching her closely, sympathetically.
“The thing is,” he said finally, “nobody else can be Regan.”
She froze in terror. Oh, God. No. No. I never wanted that, never.
“And there’s only one Bobby…”
He knew—he knew… She felt a soaring relief that she was not alone. Tony understood. Tony had felt it too—that never-to-be-admitted moment of wanting to be someone or something that you weren’t.
“And they were bound to come together again,” Tony went on inexorably. “Whatever Regan did—or didn’t do— she was always saving herself for him. And that’s the end of that story.”
“I tried…” she said brokenly.
“Fruitless, Ang. For all those years. You couldn’t have stopped them. That’s the one thing we have to learn from this mess. No one could have stopped them. Bobby was going to come back sometime. There were too many ends left untied. Too many questions. Too many things left unsaid.”
“I did that.”
Tony held up his hand. He didn’t want to know. Angie would have to live with her deceits. And so would he, and maybe those were the things better left in the ether.
“It doesn’t matter now, Angie, because the other thing, the best thing is, we found each other.”
She smiled tremulously. “Right in plain sight.”
“Think of it this way: they brought us together and we just have to go on from here.”
She groaned.
“So let’s not talk about them anymore. In fact,” he took her in his arms, “let’s not talk at all anymore…”
“No matter what you’re planning, Bobby Torrance, I have work to do.”
“Your work today is me. But we’ll go to the office anyway. I have things to say to Tony.”
“You have nothing to say to Tony. He was never anything to me but a good friend.”
“He was and is a guy who wants to screw you and waited around until he could have his turn. Don’t be naive, Regan. That much hasn’t changed.”
“You’re saying every man wants to fuck me? That sensibility hasn’t changed, either.”
“Yeah, I’m saying that. But I can live with it.” He slanted a simmering look at her as he held the door open for them to exit the Inn where they’d just had breakfast.
Immediately she felt his fingers on her, in her, owning her. That was the difference. This time he knew it. And she knew it, too.
She glanced at her watch. “I’m late.” Even though it was just a five-minute walk to the office.
“Tony won’t care. You’re about to give the agency a whopping commission.”
“I am?”
“Yep. I made some executive decisions in between… well, there’s nothing like a good fucking to clear the mind.”
“Decisions are fine, but we’ve cleared nothing up.”
“Don’t worry. Everything will be clear by the end of this day.”
She sent him a skeptical look as she pushed open the agency door. “Hey, Kelly—is Tony in his office?”
“Yes… but—” the receptionist put out a detaining hand—and too late. Regan knocked and opened the door… and there was Angie, breasts bared, hanging over Tony’s chair and offering herself to him.
“Oh. Oh.” Regan slammed the door and whirled to face Bobby. “Did you see…”
“Love it,” Bobby said. “There’s something so deliciously symmetrical about it. I couldn’t have ended it better myself.”
“Bobby…!”
“REGAN!” Tony bellowed. “Get the hell in here.”
“You, too,” Regan said, grabbing Bobby’s hand. “She’s your sister.”
“Does she have to be?”
She pulled him reluctantly into Tony’s office where Angie sat in the far corner, all to rights again, except for the pink stain on her cheeks and the fact she couldn’t look either of them in the eyes.
“Sit the hell down,” Tony said.
Regan sat. “I’ll stand,” Bobby said. “I have a lot to say.”
Angie’s head snapped up at that. “Bobby—I…”
“In fact,” Bobby said, ignoring her, “I think I’ll just take the command position here. Tony—go away.” He eased himself behind Tony’s desk and looked at them with a benign expression.
“Okay, first. Ang—I know everything. And you know what I mean. But you know what—I’m not going to hold it against you. Maybe it was the right thing to do, I don’t know, and I don’t care at this point.
“Here’s the thing. I’m still in love with Regan. That’s the reality and that’s what you still have to deal with. But smart you: you found a way, and I am very happy for you, even if you didn’t announce it quite the way you intended to.
“So this is what’s going to happen. I will be leasing the first floor in the Metro mall and moving the paper’s operation over there. Mother will be moving to Florida. No, she doesn’t know it yet, but she’l
l do it. You’ll persuade her, Ang. Tell her she’ll be happier when she reacquaints herself with some old friends, and finds some new ones.
“And you, Ang, get the house, because I sure as hell don’t want it.
“And the rest—well, that’s for me and Regan to decide. Okay? Got it? Big commission, Tony. And Cargill will follow the minute I sign the papers, so you’re on your way making inroads under the el.”
“Regan’s on her way,” Tony said, his voice a little hoarse. “That’s damned generous, Bobby.”
“Well, it’s time to reclaim the past. We’ve all wasted too much of it already. Regan? Work or play today?”
“Oh, I think I deserve a day off after snagging that big client.”
“Go for it,” Tony said.
“Bobby—?” Angie’s voice, tremulous and low.
“Ummm?”
“I’m so, so sorry.”
He felt a stab of compassion. “I know.”
He loved the shoes. He couldn’t think of anything more arousing than watching Regan strut around naked in her stilettos. Anything more provocative than her standing before him, naked in those heels, her legs splayed, her breasts thrust forward, the insolent expression of a well-fucked woman on her face.
“Well, aren’t you the juicy one today,” she murmured, reaching for his penis. “Marry me,” he said suddenly.
“What?” Now? This soon?
“Marry me. Why not?”
“Because… because—”
“Good reason.”
“There’s still stuff—” Regan said, emphatically sitting down beside him.
“What stuff?”
“Stuff we never talked about.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. We both know what happened. I thought our half hour with Tony cleared the air.”
She looked at him mutinously. “I hate this guy thing about not talking about it.”
“Okay, talk about it.”
“I can’t talk about it.”
“Jesus, Regan, isn’t this enough? Isn’t my coming back for you, isn’t our coming together, enough? What else do I have to do? And don’t say no damned sex, either.”
She eyed him speculatively and then looked at her shoes. Remembered the first fantasy, the thing she’d thought of the day she’d bought the Mascolos.
All Through the Night Page 17