Derek took him by the arm and pulled him inside.
"Whoops, where're we goin'?" Larry brayed out a laugh. Derek led him to the couch, where Larry immediately dropped into a sprawl. Derek switched on the table lamp near Larry's head. Larry let out a moan. "Whoa. The old eyes don' wanna deal with that one." He squinted up at Derek, then looked down, crossing his eyes as he studied the cigarette hanging from his mouth. "Got an ashtray?"
Derek took the few steps to the kitchen area and grabbed a saucer from the cupboard. He marched back to Larry. "Here."
Larry stubbed out the cigarette. "So. How 'bout a beer?"
"I'd say you've had enough." Derek set the plate on the side table. "Did you drive here?"
Larry answered with his favorite response. "You don' wanna know."
As usual, Larry was dead right. Derek did not want to know if his brother had been driving around falling-down drunk.
Even through his alcoholic fog, Larry must have read the disapproval on Derek's face. He groaned, "Aw, c'mon. Don' go all self-righteous on me. I can' take that right now. Things haven' ezackly been goin' my way." Larry let out a long, sad sigh and then rubbed his jaw, hard, as if checking to see if it had gone numb on him.
"I'll put you in the guest room. You can sleep it off."
"You don' wanna party?"
"No, thanks." He took Larry's wrist and gave it a tug. His brother grunted, but did stand up. Derek wrapped Larry's arm around his own neck. "Come on."
"Sush a stick-in-the-mud. Always have been. Never wanna party. Never wanna have some fun. Too busy bein' the good one. The shinin' hope of the Taylor fam'ly."
Derek started down the hall. Larry muttered and complained the whole way. When they got to the spare room, Derek took him straight to the bed and eased him down on it. "Here you go. Stretch out."
"Huh?"
Derek guided Larry to a prone position, then he turned on the lamp.
Larry groaned again. "You would haveta turn on that damn light."
"Just let me get your shoes off, and then I'll turn it off."
"Right. With the damage already done…"
Derek eased off his brother's run-down tennis shoes and slid his smelly socks away as well. Larry allowed all this, though he muttered and moaned the whole time. Then Derek got the extra blanket from the closet and spread it over him.
"Ellie divorced me," Larry was mumbling. "Got the papers … Friday, it was. I think. I didn' go to work. Prob'ly lost my job. Piece of garbage job anyway. I don't give a damn."
Derek wasn't surprised to hear either bit of news. "It's all right. We can talk about it in the morning."
"No. S'not awright. I did love her. Sweet li'l Ellie. Bu' she caught me. Makin' a mistake. With 'nother woman. She wouldn' believe me when I said I was sorry. She had to go and divorce me. Drove all the way from Fresno to tell you 'bout it. Tha's where I'm livin' now, did I tell you that? Fresno."
Derek pulled the blanket smooth, and tucked it under Larry's feet. "Go to sleep."
"Sleep? I don' wanna sleep. I tol' you. I wanna have a good time."
"Derek?" Lee's voice came from the doorway. Derek turned and saw her standing there, wearing the dark blue terry-cloth robe he kept on the back of his bathroom door. "Is everything all right?"
"More or less." Since she was looking at him so doubtfully, he explained, "This is my brother, Larry. He'll be sleeping over."
"Whazzat?" Larry demanded. He lifted his head and squinted at Lee. "Some woman? You got some woman here with you, s'why you won' party with your big bro?"
"My fiancée, Larry. So watch your mouth. Her name is Lee. You can meet her tomorrow. Right now, I want you to—"
Larry wouldn't shut up. "Fiancée. You got a fiancée? You're kiddin' me."
"No, I'm not kidding. Put your head down and go to sleep."
"Whadda you need with a damn fiancée right now? You're jus' gettin' started. An' besides, you got the women lined up for you. Gorgeous women." He squinted harder at Lee. "Hell. This one ain't even up to your stan'ards. She's too skinny. An' she needs a haircut."
"That's enough, Larry." Derek shot Lee an apologetic glance. She stuck her hands into the pockets of the robe and gave him an it's-all-right shrug in return.
"Sorry." Larry let his head drop down and released a 90-proof sigh. "Got a big mouth. Got no class wha'soever. But I had a bad week. An' my wife jus' divorced me."
"Just go to sleep, will you?" Derek turned off the light.
"Yeah. Sure. Sleep. Fine…" Instantly loud snores filled the dark room.
Derek moved toward the doorway, where Lee was waiting for him. She fell back to clear the way for him. He stepped into the hall, shut the door and pulled her into his arms.
She allowed the embrace, but barely. He cursed his brother's thoughtless mouth as he kissed her hair and breathed in the sweet, clean scent of her. "I'm sorry. My brother's a real ass." Her arms went around his waist then, and hooked at the small of his back. He smiled. "That's better."
"Does he … drop in like this often?" she whispered against his shoulder.
"He appeared about a month ago. And before that, it was a year since I last saw him. This is the first time he's showed up drunk, though. Usually he waits to get blasted until after he gets in the door."
"Charming."
He took her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. "That's not all you should know about him, if I'm going to be honest."
"God, there's more?" Her voice tried to be light.
He confessed, "He always hits me up for money before he takes off again."
Her expression turned a little bit sad. "Do you give it to him?"
"Yes. I do."
"Can you afford to?"
"Not really, but he is my brother, my last living blood relation. And things just never seem to work out for him."
She went on looking at him. Those eyes of hers, not quite blue and not quite gray, seemed to see straight into his soul. "You feel guilty. Because you've done well and he hasn't."
"Maybe." He slid his left hand down her arm and captured her hand. "Let's go back to bed."
She allowed him to pull her along, down the short hall to his bedroom. When they got there, he kicked the door closed and caught hold of the tie of the blue robe.
She hung back, not quite resisting him, but not falling into his arms, either. He looked into her eyes again. She peeked out at him warily, like some lost waif, from under the dark strands of those shaggy bangs of hers. He knew that Larry's thoughtless words had gotten to her. But would she admit it, if he pressed her on the point? Doubtful.
He gave it a try. "Are you upset, about the things my idiot brother said?"
A muscle in her cheek twitched, but she resolutely shook her head.
He tried once more. "Sure?"
She nodded. And then she smiled. "Positive." The smile looked just a little bit forced. But he'd apologized once for Larry, back in the hallway. And now he'd given her two more chances to open up about it.
What the hell else could he do, if she wouldn't talk about it?
Those knowing, pale eyes regarded him. He stared into them, thinking that he'd never felt about a woman the way he felt about her. He saw so much now when he looked at her. Tenderness. And humor. A good, caring heart. An honest, incredibly imaginative, unfettered sexuality. And great dignity.
He saw what real beauty was.
"What are you thinking about?" she demanded, still hanging back.
"You and me." He gave the tie a light tug. But she didn't give in and come into his arms.
"What about you and me?"
He tugged on the tie again. Instead of bringing her closer, the tie came loose and slithered off her.
"Derek. What about you and me?"
The sides of the robe had fallen open. Her slim body gleamed at him in the light from the bedside lamp. She had slender, firm legs and a tiny waist. Very small breasts with soft, shell pink nipples. He knew she thought that her breasts were too small. He didn't th
ink that. Why should he? They were her breasts. "Derek?"
He reached out, touched one. She hitched in a tender little gasp.
He whispered, "You're so beautiful, Lee." She stepped back as if he'd slapped her. "What's the matter?"
She put up a hand. Those pale eyes had gone dead. "Look. Don't, okay?"
He felt injured, in the worst kind of way. Rebuffed. Still, he tried again. "I mean it. You are beautiful."
"I am not. And don't say I am. Please. Let's just … be honest with each other, at least."
Anger welled in him. He carefully kept it in check and spoke reasonably. "Have you noticed how lately it seems that everything I say is wrong?"
"That's not so."
"I think it is."
"Just let it go, all right?"
He didn't want to let it go. But he knew that whatever he said next, he'd probably live to regret. They'd end up in a fight.
And he didn't want to fight with her. He wanted to hold her, to touch her.
He reached out. She feinted back a step, avoiding his hand—and came up against the door.
The robe was still open, wider than before. He let his gaze sweep down, over her breasts and her belly, the dark triangle between her thighs, the long, firm legs, all the way to her bare, pink feet. He looked at her toes for a moment. She wiggled them—in apprehension, maybe.
Or just possibly, in invitation. He glanced up again.
Her eyes were waiting. And they had changed. That dead look had left them.
He knew what she was thinking. The same thing he was thinking.
His anger and hurt broke apart, melted away. What remained was the slow, thrumming heat of desire. "Where are you going to go now?"
She lifted one shoulder in a shrug that made the robe fall open even more. "Go to bed." A tiny, unwilling smile was trying to pull at the side of her mouth.
He dropped the tie on the floor and pointed a thumb back over his shoulder. "That bed?"
She nodded. "I like that bed."
"It's my bed."
"Well, I know that."
"If you sleep in that bed, you'll have to sleep with me."
She frowned, as if considering that point. Then she nodded again. "I understand."
Very slowly, he reached out for the second time. This time, she didn't try to get away. He grasped the edges of the robe in either fist and pulled her toward him.
She melted against him with a soft little sigh. He slid his arms inside the robe with her, around her smooth, bare waist. Her body pressed along his, soft and warm, slim and firm.
She kissed his neck, then whispered. "Your wrist does seem to be healing well."
"Almost as good as new."
"Can we get into that bed of yours now?"
"In a minute." He was already lowering himself to his knees.
Lee left about nine the next morning. Derek knew that under better circumstances, he could have talked her into hanging around for a while, enjoying a slow, lazy Sunday with him.
But today there was Larry to consider. He could appear from the spare room at any minute, looking like hell and smelling of stale booze. Who could guess what he might do or say? No wonder Lee just wanted to get out.
And that was probably the best thing she could do. Derek needed to have a few private words with Larry about his rotten remarks the night before. Maybe, if luck was with him, he could write Larry another check and send him on his way before Lee even had to deal with him again.
Larry got up at eleven-thirty. He shuffled barefoot, past Derek, who sat on the sofa with the Sunday Statesman Journal. Neither brother spoke. Derek went on reading and Larry headed for the kitchen. When Derek had finished his newspaper, he folded it neatly and left it on the sofa.
Then he went to the other room, where Larry sat at the table, smoking a cigarette, hunched over a half-full cup of black coffee. Derek got him a saucer to use as an ashtray and then slid into the chair across from him.
Larry knocked his ash onto the saucer and looked up. In the bright light of morning, he wasn't a pretty sight. How he could see through all the broken blood vessels that crisscrossed his jaundiced eyeballs was a mystery to Derek.
"Don't even start on me," Larry growled.
"You're in my house. Drinking my coffee. And it was my fiancée you insulted last night. I think I've got a right to start on you, but good."
Larry grunted and sucked on the cigarette. He blew smoke up toward the ceiling. "Damn. That was real, then? That skinny, dark-haired woman in the big blue robe?"
"Her name is Lee."
"Uh. Lee. Got it." Larry stubbed out the cigarette and tried on a smile, one that kept slipping into a grimace. "Sorry."
Derek rested both elbows on the table and rubbed his eyes with his fingertips.
"Hey," Larry said. "What the hell happened to your hand?"
"It's a long story. Look, Larry. Maybe you ought to get some help, you know?"
Larry's beefy shoulders straightened a little. "Help? What kind of help?"
"Some kind of counseling. Maybe check into a center where they'll get you sober and teach you how to stay that way."
Larry lifted his coffee cup. "Forget it." He slurped coffee, then set the cup down hard. "I don't need any damn help. I need a decent woman and a good job, that's all."
"And how do you think you'll get either one of those, when you cheat on your wife and don't show up for work?"
Larry swore and pushed himself to his feet. "I don't need to hear this from you. You're my brother. You're supposed to be on my side."
Derek looked up at him, and wondered why he'd bothered to try to get him to see that he was killing himself. "How much do you want this time?"
A crafty light came into the bleary eyes. "Five hundred?"
Derek winced. "Larry. You just hit me up a month ago."
"How 'bout four, then?"
In the end, they settled on three. And Larry was gone within the hour. Derek couldn't muster much more than relief to see him drive away.
He wanted to see Lee. He wanted to tell her all about Larry and the mess Larry had made of his life. He had a feeling Lee would see it all more clearly than he did. She might even have some decent suggestions as to what Derek could do to really help his older brother.
He called her. But he got her machine. "Call me," he said, and hung up.
He spent a half an hour cleaning his place, and then he got his gym bag and went to the club. He worked out for an hour and a half—hoping in the back of his mind the whole time that Lee might show up there.
She didn't. He took a long, hot shower, got dressed and went home. When he got there, he found that she hadn't called. And she didn't call in the next two hours.
It probably shouldn't have bothered him. They spent a hell of a lot of time together, after all. She had a right to a Sunday without him now and then.
Still, it did bother him. It felt to him as if she was pulling away from him. She wouldn't set a date for the wedding. She seemed on edge a lot of the time, and inevitably ready to take offense at anything he said. And, even though she wouldn't admit it, he was always the one who called her.
Worst of all, every time he tried to talk to her about the situation, she stonewalled him.
But what more could he do? If she wouldn't talk, she wouldn't talk.
By five-thirty, Lee had neither called nor appeared at his door.
He picked up the phone to call her again. And then he slammed it down, grabbed his keys and headed for her place.
She answered her door within fifteen seconds of his loud knock.
He glared at her. "Where have you been all damn day?"
She fell back a step and put a hand on her neck, her eyes going wide with surprise at his harshness.
He felt like a complete heel. He moved back a step himself, giving her some distance as he mentally counted to ten. "Look. I called. I thought you'd call back."
She said nothing for a moment, then she asked, "Do you want to come in?"
&
nbsp; He let out a long breath. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."
"Well, come on, then." She ushered him through the door and then shut it behind him. "I did get your message, about ten minutes ago, when I finally got home. I was just about to call you."
A damn fool. That's what he was. "Oh. Well. I see." There were shopping bags, a lot of them, lined up on the couch. "You spent the day shopping?"
"Most of it."
"What did you buy?"
She waved a hand, vaguely. "Oh, nothing much."
"Looks like plenty of stuff to me."
"Well, I needed a few things. Oh, and I also dropped in to see Lenora and Maria."
"How are they doing?"
"Okay. She got all excited when she saw the ring."
That made him feel marginally better. "She did?"
"Yeah. She says she just had a feeling about us. And she was glad to know she was right."
Was she? he found himself thinking. Was she right? But he didn't say it. No need to borrow trouble.
She asked, "How did it go with your brother?"
A few hours ago, he'd wanted to tell her all about Larry. Now, somehow, the urge had vanished. "I gave him three hundred dollars. And then he left."
"Was he … all right?"
He shrugged. "Sure. As all right as any alcoholic ever is the morning after a big drunk."
She sighed then. "Oh, Derek. He really should get help."
"You think I haven't told him that? It's like talking to a wall."
"Maybe if you—"
He really didn't want to hear it, not at this point. "Look. I've had enough of Larry about now to last me a lifetime. Let's talk about something else, all right?"
She studied his face. "But he's all the family you've got, and I think that you—"
He didn't let her get another word out. "Drop it. Please."
She closed her mouth and just looked at him. Reproachfully. Again, he felt like a jerk. But then she put on a smile. "Tell you what. I'll make dinner."
He forced a smile of his own. "I'd like that."
"Just let me put my shopping bags in the spare room."
DR. DEVASTATING Page 17