by Diane Darcy
The hair dryer started blasting full force behind the closed door and with a scowl, he jerked away, his head pounding. This was her fault. If she’d thought to rent him a tuxedo he wouldn’t be in this mess. He glanced at the glowing red numbers on the bedside clock. Seven-thirty. Too late to rent one himself.
Walking to the closet he frowned and flipped through his clothes. Perhaps he should wear a suit? Only the New Year’s Eve party was formal, and he’d stand out if he wasn’t properly dressed.
Taking a deep breath he felt the seams of his slacks strain and he grimaced. If he couldn’t breathe, how was he supposed to socialize? Eat? He glanced into the full length mirror again and swore. Maybe they should just stay home? No. That wasn’t an option. This was his only chance to talk to Jeff in a social setting and he couldn’t afford to miss it. He had to be there tonight. He shot a glare at the closed door. They had to be there.
Straightening, he sucked in his gut and peered down at his stomach. Perhaps if he eliminated some clothing? He quickly peeled off his slacks and removed his boxers. A moment later he tugged the slacks back on, and very carefully zipped them. He pulled in his gut again. Better. If he didn’t eat or sit, he could probably make it through the evening.
Anyway, who would notice the tightness of his clothes in a crowded room? It would be fine. He released his breath in a rush. It would have to be.
He jerked his arm and looked at his watch. They needed to leave. Now. He pounded on the bathroom door again. "Emily, we’re late!"
The door opened and he stepped aside, glaring as Emily moved into the bedroom. Ignoring him, she walked to the closet and withdrew a pair of spike-heeled black shoes.
The scent of her peach body lotion wafted through the air and he inhaled, eyes still trailing her. She’d pulled her blonde hair up into one of those fancy styles, somehow pinning it into place on top of her head, leaving curls to dance invitingly around her cheeks and throat. He continued to stare as she bent over, his gaze drawn to the back of one knee revealed by the slit in the dress. He swallowed.
Finally, shoes on, she straightened, and her blue eyes wandered over his outfit. He tensed. "Well?"
Her lips smiled the fake smile. "You look nice." Her voice was bright, superficial. The voice she used with strangers. She glanced down at her dress. "What do you think?"
She looked wonderful, as always. The calf-length black dress showed off her slender, curvaceous figure, the stark color making her blonde hair bright, and her eyes a brilliant blue.
Ignoring her question, he buttoned his jacket. "You don't think it looks too tight on me?"
She sighed, turned and started to rifle through her jewelry box. "Do you have anything else to wear?"
He glared at her back. "No.”
She crossed to the dressing table mirror without looking at him, arched her neck to one side and slid a hoop-earring into place. "Then it's fine, isn't it?"
Sam smiled through gritted teeth. "It'll have to be, won’t it." His jaw ached. If he had a normal wife who took an interest in anyone other than herself, maybe he'd have something decent to wear tonight.
Lucky for her he wasn't like his father. No yelling or...well, he was a wonderful husband and it was about time she realized it and tried being a decent wife in return.
Sam assessed her dress again, trying to ignore his reaction to the body inside. She had something nice to wear. "You're not wearing that are you?"
Pivoting, her eyes measured him. "Yes. I am." She turned back to the mirror and bent over the dresser to check her make-up. She ignored him.
His jaw clenched. "When you bend over like that it makes your butt look fat."
Her back stiffened and she slowly straightened and turned, her face reddening. She was angry. Incredible. Emily showing emotion.
Muscles tight, he studied her, anticipation thrumming through his body. Her fists were clenched, ready to take him apart. About time. Lifting his chin, Sam savored the eagerness coursing through him. They needed a good fight. He was angry too. She was so indifferent to him. Perhaps now he'd get some sort of reaction instead of the incessant no-one-home stare. They could relieve the tension, get their marriage back on track, and start being intimate again.
She inhaled, opened her mouth, then paused.
He tensed. Come on. Say it. Something. Anything!
She blinked, her expression smoothed, and she relaxed. The bland mask slipped back into place and her eyebrows rose. "Then I'd better not bend over."
Fingers digging into one thigh, his temples pounding, Sam held her gaze. When she turned away, he let out a harsh breath.
Couldn’t he do anything to get a reaction out of her? Say anything? What did she want from him?
Abruptly he jerked away to put his wallet in his back pocket. When it wouldn’t fit into his tight slacks, he shoved it inside his jacket.
Fine. If that was how she wanted it he’d go along with her.
For now. They didn’t have time to fight anyway. But eventually they needed to have it out. He glanced at the bed they used for sleeping. He couldn’t go on like this for much longer. Something had to change.
He noticed the time on the bedside clock. Seven forty. They’d never make it on time. "Come on. We need to leave. I told you I wanted to be there by eight o'clock."
She picked up a long rectangular bottle from off the dresser. "Why the big hurry? I thought the party didn’t even start until eight."
He watched as she sprayed perfume on her neck and wrists. He breathed in deeply, smelling the light, enticing fragrance. She’d worn this scent ever since he’d known her, and for some reason, right now, it reminded him of better times. Of when she’d loved him. When she used to tell him she loved him.
He pushed the thought away. Everyone went through bad times in their marriage. At present, he needed to focus his energy on getting tenure at the University. Emily needed to feel secure. Then life would be better. He hesitated, slipped his fingers into his front pockets, then pulled them out again when he realized it made the tuxedo look worse.
Maybe she wouldn’t be so cold toward him if she understood what was at stake tonight. He cleared his throat. "I want a chance to talk to Jeff Johansen alone."
He watched her. No reaction. Couldn’t she at least face him when he spoke to her? If she understood what he was trying to do for her he sighed. "Emily, I didn’t tell you this, but two weeks ago I gave Jeff my new history text book to read. I’m hoping to get a chance to talk to him alone.”
He glanced up at her, but she still didn’t look at him. “I’m hoping he’ll put in a good word about me to the board members.” He shrugged. “Perhaps it’ll influence the board’s decision about my application for tenure.”
When she lifted her head to stare at him, he shrugged. “You know how standoffish Jeff is. I figured, possibly, if I asked him for a recommendation in a social setting instead of at the University...then maybe he'd say yes.” He shrugged again and cleared his throat. "Anyway, it's worth a shot.”
Face blank, she nodded, then moved to walk out of the room.
Mouth falling open, Sam watched her go. He spills his soul, tells her his plans and...nothing! “Hello!” Sam’s fists clenched. “Did you hear what I said? You do want to stay in Utah, don’t you? You do want to continue to live near your mother, don’t you?”
She stopped in the doorway to glance back at him. “Did you want to talk about something?”
He made a sound of disgust. “Never mind. I just thought you’d be a bit more excited about my getting tenure.”
“That would be very nice for you.”
Nice for him? He watched as she walked out of the bedroom and headed for Jared’s room. Closing his eyes, he gritted his teeth, then followed.
Didn't she care about anything anymore? This was their future he was discussing. Emily was the one who wanted to live in Salt Lake City forever, and Emily was the one who wanted to stay in this house, and Emily was the one with a mother in the same city. How about a littl
e enthusiasm! He brushed a hand over his face. What he wouldn’t give for ten extra minutes and a cigarette.
Following her down the hall, he heard her talking softly to Jared. "Sweetheart, I know you don't need a baby-sitter, but we probably won't be home until one o'clock or so. I'll feel better knowing you aren’t alone in the house, all right?”
"But Mom, I'm almost twelve. It's so dumb. If my friends knew I had to have someone over to baby-sit--"
Sam stepped into the room. The kid had no right to complain. Not after what he’d done. "And whose fault is that young man? If you could act like a responsible person rather than a hooligan then you wouldn't need a babysitter, would you? After what happened, you're lucky a babysitter and forty hours of community service are all you have coming.”
Sam rubbed one hand over his face. “Come on Emily, we don’t have time for this.” He started to leave the room, but when he caught sight of Jared's blue eyes, so like his mother's, glaring at him, it set him off again. He’d get respect from his own child if from no one else.
"Do you know how humiliating it was for me to be called down to the police station? To be told my son had been throwing snowballs at cars? To find out you'd broken a car window like some common vandal? If that's what you do for fun over your Christmas vacation then you deserve to be watched twenty-four hours a day." Sam realized he was pointing his finger to emphasize each word and, inhaling, he lowered his hand.
"Like you were a saint when you were a kid, Dad." Jared turned his back to sit at his desk, blond head bent, shoulders hunched.
Sam’s fists clenched. Why was he the one at fault? He hadn’t gotten into trouble with the law. Sam stepped closer to glare down at Jared. "Well, if I wasn’t, at least I was smart enough not to get caught."
Emily stepped between them. "Sam--"
He spoke over her shoulder. "And I still want to know who you were with. Why you think you have to protect someone who gladly let you take the rap for the broken window is beyond me."
"Sam, just drop it." Emily glared at him, her arms crossed and her face tight.
Like mother, like son. Sam was the bad guy as usual. “I’m just trying to discipline our son. You’re too easy on him. He needs to learn there are consequences to bad behavior, and you need to stop interfering.”
“Sam. I said drop it.”
Frowning, he glanced from Emily’s set face to Jared’s bent head, then ran a hand through his hair. “What do you two want from me?”
Jared turned in his chair, his eyes condemning. When had Jared started looking at him like that? What had happened to the little boy who used to worship him? Perhaps Jared was just turning into a teenager a bit early. Emily really needed to spend more time with him. Keep him out of trouble. Sam rubbed his throbbing temples. As soon as he got tenure, maybe he’d have to do it himself.
The doorbell rang and Sam let out an exasperated sigh.
"That must be your mother." He glanced at his watch. Twelve minutes until eight. “And she’s late. Come on, we need to go.” He grabbed Emily's elbow and gave a tug. When she resisted, he scowled at her, then turned and left the bedroom.
He hurried down the stairs to open the front door, wincing as frigid air blew into the entryway. Alice, his elegantly clad mother-in-law, stood there. She didn’t resemble anyone’s idea of a baby-sitter. Or a grandmother either, for that matter. His lip curled. After two divorces and one husband buried, she wasn’t hurting financially. She could afford to look like she’d just stepped out of a salon.
Her make-up was perfectly applied, as usual. Short red hair, slightly curled, swept away from her face, emphasizing the chilling stare she fixed on him. As always, she surveyed him like he was a bug needing to be squashed.
Sam crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. "Hi, Mom." Her eyes flickered, and he smirked. She hated him calling her that. He stepped aside and gestured with a hand. "Please, come in.”
"Thank you.” Raising her chin, she eyed him coldly. “Your tuxedo is too tight."
Witch. As she swept past, her perfume floated up to him. "Mm. Nice perfume, have you got a hot date later?" He hit his forehead with his palm. "Oh, no, I remember now. You were free to baby-sit because you had nothing to do on New Year’s Eve." He bared his teeth at her in a mock smile. "If you'd like, I could set you up with one of the professors at the University." He winked. "We have a couple of old timers without spouses."
Her eyes narrowed. "I hope they don't have anything good to eat at the party, Sam." She slowly smiled. "It looks as if your outfit might explode if you take even one bite of food."
Emily came down and shot him a glare before hugging Alice. His jaw tightened. What did he do? "Can we leave now?" Emily and her mother both ignored him as they moved up the stairs.
Sam waited about thirty seconds. "Emily! Time to go! Come on. What are you doing? It's not like Jared and his grandma have never met. Let’s go!"
Muttering under his breath, Sam stomped back up the stairs and into Jared's room. Predictably Jared's grandmother was fussing over him, one hand on his slim shoulder, as she praised a drawing she held in the other. His mouth tightened. Jared hadn’t shown him the picture.
"Emily, now would be nice." Stalking forward, he gave her elbow a sharp jerk.
She winced. "Sam, that hurt!"
His breath stilled in his chest as sudden nausea clogged his throat. He swallowed. Hard. Then sucked in air. He'd never hurt her before. He opened his mouth to apologize, but the three glares burning into his face stopped him. He closed his mouth tightly.
Why should he apologize? If she hadn't disappeared up the stairs, he wouldn't have come after her and it wouldn’t have happened. As she frowned at him and rubbed her elbow, he glowered right back, willing his queasy stomach to settle. Not his fault. He would not apologize.
Tapping his watch with one finger, he scowled at Emily. "It’s now five minutes until eight. In this weather it’ll take twenty minutes to get to my boss's house. The party starts at eight which means we’re late."
Alice sniffed and he shot the interfering hag a glare, which she returned. He jerked back to Emily. "For reasons I have already explained to you, I want the chance to talk to my boss alone." He jerked his thumb toward the door. "If you could please move your butt out to the car, maybe we could get there before the party ends."
He heard his mother-in-law gasp, but before she could say anything, Jared lunged forward, fists clenched. "Leave her alone!"
An unwanted flash of memory assaulted Sam and he recalled the protective defense he’d felt toward his own mother when he was a boy. He gulped, swallowed in oxygen, and shoved the memory away. He didn’t have time for this.
Emily held up both hands to stop anyone from saying anything else. "We’re leaving now, Mom." She leaned forward and kissed Jared’s cheek. "Love you, Baby. Be good."
Straightening, she walked past Sam, not even glancing in his direction. As he moved into the hall he tried to take her elbow, but she jerked it away, hurried down the stairs, grabbed her coat and slammed the front door.
With a sigh, Sam followed, moving more slowly. Jerking her arm had been a mistake. But why couldn't he ever get any cooperation around here? Why was everything always his fault?
Buttoning his long overcoat he opened the door and caught up with Emily, stopping beside her on the sidewalk. She pulled up the hood on her coat to block the lightly falling snow, but otherwise, didn’t move.
"What are you waiting for?" He followed her gaze to where an unfamiliar car was parked in the driveway. Parked directly behind his car in the garage, blocking them in. He inhaled cold air and gestured toward the car. “What is this?"
When she didn’t answer, he stepped forward and threw both hands in the air. “What is this?”
Jerking his head to the side, he spotted Alice’s BMW across the street, sitting under a blazing street light, snow already dusting its frame. He scanned the road and his mouth fell open. There were cars lining both sides of the street. He turn
ed back to Emily. “Who’s car is this?”
Emily crossed her arms and said nothing.
He heard voices and strode forward, in front of the car and past the garage until he could see the neighbor’s front porch. The neighbor’s dog barked wildly through the six-foot wood fence, and startled, Sam jumped, then smacked the wood. “Stupid dog.” Someone needed to put it out of its misery. He watched as their neighbor, Kendra Wakely, greeted a young couple on their well-lit porch.
Emily came up beside him. "I told Matt and Kendra their guests could park here." She glanced at him and shrugged. "I thought we'd be gone before they arrived. Let’s just take my car."
He looked at her car, covered in snow, parked off to the side of the driveway, and snorted. “I don't want to show up at my boss’s fancy house in your piece-of-crap Plymouth."
"Fine," she said, her voice tight. "Let's just stay home then, okay? That would be fine with me, because with the way you're acting tonight, I don't really feel like going to a party anyway."
“The way I’m acting?” The dog barked again, and Sam glowered at the fence, then pulled Emily back toward the house. “You’re the one slowing us down, making us late.”
She jerked her arm away from him. Again. His head pounded viciously. He pointed to the car in the driveway. “You’re the one letting people park in our driveway, and I get the blame for acting badly?” Sam blew out a harsh breath and tried to calm down. "Anyway, it’s not like we can miss this."
She brushed snow off her coat sleeves. “Perhaps you should go without me.”
His lips tightened as he glared at the insidious car parked in his driveway. He would love to leave her home. But Jeff really liked Emily, and Sam needed her in his corner tonight. Besides, Jeff would want to know why he’d come alone, and the last thing Sam wanted was give the impression things were bad at home. Not with tenure on the line.
He turned back to her. She was giving him the blank stare again and his lip twisted. Maybe they should stay home. Going might be a sure way to prove to his boss that things were bad at home. But then he’d lose his big chance to talk to Jeff with a drink in his hand.