The Naughty Box (9 books in 1 box set)

by Davis, SJ

  "When you are in my position you know what you have to do. Know you need to settle down, but you worry if you will be satisfied." He exhaled. "I have no question you are that woman."

  "I don't know what to say. I told you I'm involved." The words left her mouth again, as if she were trying to convince herself. After this she was going to go down the street to one of her normal accounts to get something to stop the throbbing in her head. At least she would have to wait to be seen by a doctor.

  "This is what I want you to do. I want you to place a big order to get your commission, and then I want you to go home." He pulled up his sleeve and glanced at his watch. "Right about now the holiday gift I got you should be delivered to your home. Just think about it." He stood up. "I'm sorry I have to rush this, but you can't miss the courier and I have a VIP patient coming."

  She got up, or she thought she did, she didn't realize she was moving until Dr. Dalton guided her to the door and put her bag over her shoulder.

  "May I apologize once more for how I got you here?" He took her hand. "Please consider what I said." He bent down and gave her a kiss on her cheek. "Go rid your life of complications."

  She stepped into the hall and turned back to him. Complications ruled her life. Why would Dr. Dalton step into the middle of this when he could have anyone?

  "I hope you enjoy your present." He walked back into his office and took his coat.

  "Goodbye." She spun around and rushed toward the back exit. Something told her she had to get home before her boyfriends intercepted her gift.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  "Jason?" Russell put his bag down and for the first time in weeks, loosened his own tie.

  He stepped into the living room and turned around. The vibe in the room was strange. Jason would say the energy was off, Lauren would say it was creepy. He swallowed and decided it had to be because he couldn't remember the last time he came home to an empty house. Probably around the same time he undid his own tie.

  The day had been a waste and he knew he had to leave.

  There were times when a man needed his best friend.

  With Lauren on calls, he would have the perfect opportunity to talk to Jason, man to man. They were men. Men who loved one woman - not each other.

  He walked to the kitchen to get a bottle of water and then opted for a beer. After opening the bottle and taking a long gulp, letting the icy liquid cool him down, he glanced in the laundry room. Gone were the days of three hampers with three people doing their own clothes, now everything was intermingled. Lauren joked she was going to have to label his and Jason's underwear.

  He finished off the beer and put the bottle on the kitchen counter as he walked toward the bedrooms. His old bedroom was now their bedroom, Jason's old room was now an office as they reorganized their lives, Lauren's old room turned into her own personal closet and shopping receptacle. At the end of the hall was the garage turned Jason's studio and storage. The door was half open, as if Jason rushed out.

  "Strange." His best friend never left the door to his studio opened. He never wanted anyone to snoop at his creations, and normally Russell wouldn't breach that trust, but he spied something strange in the studio.

  After a peek he turned away. No way he was seeing right.

  "No." He couldn't snoop around like this. Go looking at someone's possessions and someone's artistic work.

  His feet refused to walk away. The brief glimpse he got of the painting left a hole in his chest that wouldn't be filled until he checked to see if he was right. His body tightened and he clenched his fist. If they were together the way they claimed, if Jason could touch him the way he did two nights ago, if they could live like this, it was his right to look.

  He forced himself to turn, and stomped into the studio, hitting the door hard enough for it to slap the wall.

  There on the easel in the middle of the studio was apparently Jason's painting. His style, his colors, his use of light and shadow. If someone were studying the works of Jason Morgan there would be no doubt this would fall into the category of a traditional piece for him.

  All except for the subject matter.

  It was all three of them. All of the three of them. Every last inch of the three of them in a graphic, intimate moment.

  The chemical tang of oil on canvas still hung in the air and as he stepped closer, the telltale glossy paint strokes told him that his best friend had put the finishing touches on his masterpiece quite recently.

  Jason had to have created this as a present to the two of them, but still Russell backed away. It was one thing to do these things behind closed doors, another to have a picture of it.

  His back hit Jason's desk, and he stumbled knocking some papers to the floor.

  More than ever he needed to talk to Jason. He bent down, but before he could clean up his mess, he caught sight of two sketches and an email.

  He supposed his best friend was done drawing book covers. The sketches were more of the three of them in compromising positions, but the shock wasn't from the pictures, it was from the email.

  The paper vibrated from his shaking as he read the words and then reread them. He had to make sure he had this correct.

  "What are you doing in here?" Jason came bounding into the studio.

  He inhaled, taking a moment to collect himself and straightened up still holding the email.

  "I guess you saw my latest creation. I sort of wanted to show you with Lauren." Jason walked over to the painting and reached for a cover. "I meant to hide this, but the paint was still wet and I wasn't expecting anyone to come home."

  Without a word, he rubbed his chin, thankful for only one thing, he was numb, utterly numb. Right now Jason could touch him anywhere and he wouldn't even feel it. Too bad this didn't happen two nights ago.

  "I find quite the inspiration in the three of us." Jason put the drape over the painting.

  "You also find quite the profit in the three of us." His words came out flat and he dropped the email to the floor, watching it flutter as it landed.

  "What?" Jason faced him and crossed his arms.

  "I should have known." He shook his head.

  "What are you talking about?" Jason came toward him.

  He held his hand up and swallowed, shutting his eyes and remembering the words he just saw on the page. His chest seized or was it heartache? It didn't matter, all that mattered right now was he spoke. "This whole thing, the three of us, it was for your art." If he had any moisture in his mouth he would have spit the word at Jason.

  "Russ." Jason swatted his hand down.

  "Stay away from me." He pointed at Jason but wouldn't retreat. "Now I know how you got your show. You sold us." He took off his glasses and wiped the sweat off his face. "You planned this all along."

  "What I planned was the three of us being together." Jason lowered his voice. "What you are seeing is some inspiration I decided to put on canvas."

  His teeth ground together, scraping inside his skull and he picked up the email from the agent Jason mentioned describing in detail the show the man secured to feature his threesome, or trifecta artwork. "What you planned was a sick way out of your block and into a gallery."

  Jason's eyes flicked to the page and back up to him. "I don't think you understand."

  "I know better than you do." He held the page out to his best friend. Were those even the right words to describe him? "I know you have no bounds, I know you'll do what it takes, I know you thought this was some grand experiment."

  Jason stayed silent.

  "Your so-called agent even had the gall to congratulate you for seizing your passion." He balled the paper in his fist.

  "Let me explain." Jason cleared his throat.

  "I think I'll wait to read the review. Your agent didn't neglect to mention that Catherine Dumar will be at your show." He took the paper, tossed it at Jason and turned to leave.

  "Damn it, Russell!" Jason caught his shoulder. "Let me say one thing."

  "Don't touch me."
He tensed at this man's hand on him, spun around and pushed him away.

  "Can I say one thing?" Jason held his hands back as if in retreat.

  "Can you tell me you didn't do this for your art?" He forced himself to inhale and raised his chin.

  Jason opened his mouth but said nothing.

  "I don’t know who I feel more sorry for right now, you or Lauren." He stepped forward. "This is going to kill her." His only hope was he could intercept her before she walked in on the madness. They started out knowing they both had to have her or it would ruin their friendship. Now neither would have her, and their friendship was through.

  "So that's it?" Jason stood up to him nose to nose.

  "It wasn't me who decided to take twenty years and toss it." He stared at Jason. He knew every inch of that face maybe even better than his own, but he may as well be staring at anyone, a stranger. "This is over."

  "What's over?"

  Russell shut his eyes at Lauren's voice.

  ***

  "What's over?" Lauren asked the question though at the moment she could identify many things that were over, including the beat her heart was trying to make, and any hope she managed to scrounge up on the way home.

  Truth be told the second she stopped in the driveway in her spot next to Russell's car, her hope took a detour. The man was never home in the middle of a workday unless he was injured or sick. She couldn't remember the last time he was ill, and as far as she knew, he wasn't injured, at least physically.

  Upon walking into the house and finding her two boyfriends in Jason's studio, her hope tried to flee, but she dug her nails in her palm and refused to let it leave. Russell seldom went into the studio for any length of time. He only entered to get one of them or deliver some life altering news. Russell saying something was over seemed about as life altering as things could get. She tried to ignore the fact she was only home to intercept some mystery gift from another man. Something she wasn't sure she could handle if the situation were reversed.

  Now neither man would glance in her direction. "What's over?"

  If she were truly honest with herself, in the flash before Russell turned she would admit she knew what was over. She knew once she called Russell's work. Maybe she knew before. She wrapped her arms around herself.

  Russell faced her.

  Jason shook his head.

  She was glad she never opted for lunch, because right now she would be throwing it up all over papers scattered across Jason's studio floor.

  Without a word Russell held a paper out to her.

  She pried her hand away from herself and took the page. It rattled as she shook, but a quick scan told her Jason got a new agent, a new show and a new chance with Catherine Dumar. Why weren't they celebrating? "I…" Her dry throat made her cough. "I don't understand."

  "Lauren." Jason said her full name, and any drop of hope that remained evaporated.

  "You can't explain this away." Russell took the paper from her and crumpled it in a ball. "Why don't you show her how you got your newest show?"

  She bit her lip and waited. The scene in front of her reminding her of walking in on the middle of a horror movie where the villain came out and slashed someone with a knife for no reason except shock value. Her trembling wouldn't stop, rattling her teeth and making it hard to focus.

  "I'm not ashamed of any of my work." Jason walked across the studio to the easel, and pulled the drape off his painting.

  She blinked, once, twice, a third time. The painting was most definitely them in the most private of moments. If Jason would have presented her with this painting over a candlelight dinner and a bottle of wine she knew her insides would have warmed and swirled rather than seizing. They were Jason's muse, but weren't they always? She still didn't understand and shifted her attention to Russell, the man who knew every answer.

  "He sold us out. This whole thing was for his art." He shook his head and filled in the blanks.

  She shut her eyes and took a breath, her mind fighting to process what Russell just laid on her. New art, new show, new agent, new chance with Catherine Dumar and a painting of the three of them having sex. No, this wasn't true. Jason said he loved her. He didn't sell them.

  She opened her eyes, willing the scene before her to change, waiting for Jason to say something, to deny Russell's accusations, anything.

  Jason looked between her, Russell and the painting.

  She pressed her lips together.

  "Lauren." Russell took two steps toward her. "He was blocked, he got bad reviews, he concocted this."

  The backs of her eyes heated with tears she didn't want to fall.

  "He pushed us and now look." Russell motioned behind him. "He's selling us."

  "You don't know anything." Jason rushed forward and pointed at Russell. "You are thrilled this is happening like this, you never wanted this work, you were always trying to hide us and now you have the perfect opportunity to walk away the victim."

  "Don't blame your deception on me." Russell turned to him and pointed right back. "You lied to us so you can profit."

  "Then explain why you're home right now?" Jason got in his face. "Did you come home for an afternoon quickie, or could you not handle that I touched you this weekend and it turned you on?"

  Lauren's vision blurred through the unshed tears, and she was partially grateful she didn't have a crystal clear view of the two men she loved going at it.

  "I was totally fine with this weekend. I'm allowed to come home whenever I want, this is my house. Something you would have if you could create art off something other than a literal interpretation of your life." He inched closer to Jason and clenched his fist.

  "Maybe you don't like that your life is mimicking my art." Jason raised his chin.

  Lauren held her hand out. She had to stop this before they resorted to blows. They were best friends. Best friends since elementary school. "Please."

  Russell pulled back his fist. "I may have had issues in the beginning, but I worked through them."

  "That's not true!" Lauren lunged between them. "That's not true and you know it."

  "Lauren." Russell caught her hand. "You have proof of what happened right here."

  "She's not ashamed." Jason put his hand on her shoulders and pulled her back.

  "Neither am I." Russell tugged her toward him.

  She wasn't a wishbone, and she shook them off her and stepped back, holding her hands out. "You told your work you wouldn't be attending the holiday party this year."

  "You don't understand." Russell shoved his hands in his pockets.

  "You lying bastard." Jason reached for her. "We understand everything."

  She shrugged him away. "You did sell us."

  Jason put his arms down.

  They all stood there, three points in a triangle. She glanced between them. Jason, her dreaming artist, his quest for success outweighed everything, even his friends, and in a way she couldn't blame him. She shifted her focus to Russell, her rock, and her conscience. His heart and his body may want certain things, but his mind would never let go. It wasn't his fault it was in his DNA. "I was so selfish." The tears wouldn't be denied and she didn't even try to stop them now. She wanted what she couldn't have, what no one could really have. In the process she not only destroyed herself, she destroyed a lifelong friendship. "I should have left that night."

  Only the ringing of the doorbell rescued her from hearing anything else, and she spun around and went running.

  Somehow without the two of them behind her, and with her mind shattered in a million different directions she managed to reach the front door. Without even asking who was there, she swung the door open and stopped.

  Somehow she also forgot she was home at this hour to receive a package.

  Where once upon a time a giant lime green box and purple ribbon held the key to everything she wanted, now faced with what was no doubt hers, and no doubt from one Dr. Dalton, her knees buckled, and not from joy. She held onto the door to keep from falling
to the floor.

  "Are you Lauren Redmond?" The delivery boy asked.

  She nodded and bit her lip at the sounds of footsteps behind her.

  "This is for you." He set the box on the inside of the door. "I need you to sign here." He held out a clipboard.

  She stared straight ahead and made a mark on the paper sort of resembling her name.

  "Thank you." He took the clipboard back. "Dr. Gregory Dalton already took care of my tip. He said to enjoy."

  The only thing this man needed was some flair gun to announce who sent over the present. She watched him leave, wanted to run away with him. Instead, she moved the box further inside and closed the door, turning to face the men who only hours ago she called her boyfriends.

  "Is there a reason one of your accounts is sending you a gift from Jacques?" Jason crossed his arms.

  For once he got the name of the store right. She didn't move.

  "At least we know why you are home now. Did you hope to hide that?" Russell stared at the delivery. "I suppose it’s better than a keychain. The box is much larger."

  She held up her hand. This had to stop because it was already over.

  It was already over.

  She couldn't even blink the tears away. They dried up. "You are right about everything."

  Neither man answered her, and that was fine. She needed to say what she needed to say. "Jason may have sold out, but so did I." She swallowed. "Russell may have denied us, but in a way I did too." She moved the box over with her foot to make her point. "This is over."

  With the words out, the sick nausea that followed her everywhere that day left, only another sign of her fantasy's demise.

  She left the box and walked past the two of them and stopped. "Please figure out a way to put this behind the two of you." Never again would she look back, nor would she live in her dreams. It was time to be real and face her life. Her life was not with the two of them. Maybe she wanted that Jacques box all along. "Please do that."

  She went straight into what was once her room, was now her closet, and would soon be vacant. In keeping with her momentum she found her suitcase and stuffed whatever items touched her hands into it. This time there would be no one knocking down doors to get her, no one making love to her.