Tempting as Sin

by Rosalind James

  Smiling hurt, and Lily was smiling anyway, enjoying the luxury that was Martin putting away her groceries and taking the opportunity to reorganize her fridge while he was at it. “Yes, please,” she said, while Rafe leaned against the wall, crossed one ankle over the other, and accepted a bottle of beer like the relaxed man he sometimes was.

  “Now, glasses,” Martin said. “Where? Ah.” He opened a bottle of Chardonnay with the assurance of a sommelier, poured a very generous glass, and handed it over. “You always want your favorite under stress, right? This is a Tolpuddle Vineyard 2011. Tasmania. The werewolf likes to support the homeland.”

  Lily took a sip. Creamy was one word. “Wow. Don’t tell me they stock this in Kalispell.”

  “I had my new best friend order a few things. His name’s Mark Morrison, for future reference. Very knowledgeable. If you venture into red territory, I’ve got a Shiraz here that will blow your mind. I’m trying to be indispensable, you see. Montana indispensable. Dr. Ezra took me kayaking Saturday night, and I’ve been discovering a newfound love of the great outdoors ever since. Though I draw the line at gardening. I’m from the Midwest, and, honey, from is the word. I don’t do dirt anymore. I’m putting that out there just in case. I don’t have enough to do up here, though, even handling Rafe’s financials and his houses, and he knows it. He never wants me to bring him lattes or exercise his guinea pig or call the hairdresser about his highlights even in LA, and up here, he’s worse. Which leaves me seriously underemployed. I don’t want him to send me back, which would make being able to help you manna from heaven. Except that you had to get hit in the face, of course. But other than that.”

  “Well, thanks. I think.” Lily took another long sip of cool, golden nectar, letting the full flavors of grapefruit and peach drift over her tongue and down her throat, and eyed the Epsom salts. She could take her wine into the tub with her. Yeah, baby.

  “I’m talkative,” Martin said. “Can’t help it. I was born to be me.”

  “Entertaining,” Lily said with a laugh. “Fun.” She hated that Antonio had shaken her up so much again, but she didn’t have to stay shaken up. That was the difference. She could wipe him off again like something stuck to the bottom of her shoe, and she was going to do it. She’d moved on. “I’m glad you like Ezra,” she told Martin. “He’s a special guy. Kindness is underrated, in my opinion.”

  “He’s more than that,” Martin said. “He’s my special guy.” For once, he didn’t sound comical.

  “That’s quick, mate,” Rafe said.

  “Yeah,” Martin said. “Amazing how you just know sometimes, isn’t it? Must be the magic of the mountains. I brought you clothes for a few days, by the way, just in case. And judging by the way you look and the way you’re moving,” he told Lily, “I’ve got another idea to make myself indispensable. Say I can. Pretty please.”

  “I’m not that bad,” Lily said.

  “Honey,” Martin said, “tell it to somebody who’s never been jumped on the way home from a bar. Ask me how I met Rafe. Never mind, I’ll tell you. I got jumped, and he jumped in. Fresh off the boat from Australia, truly bizarre haircut, but the boy could fight.”

  “Not so much, mate,” Rafe said. “All I did was make it not easy, when they were looking for easy. And I don’t like bullies.”

  “Yeah, right,” Martin said. “You forget that I was there. The hero bit’s not just for the cameras. Anyway. What you need right now, Lily, is a few days off. According to Hailey, that doesn’t happen. ‘That woman works every minute God sends’ were the exact words used. Loving your work’s a beautiful thing, but I bet you’ll wake up tomorrow with a good black eye and a whole lot of stiffness. Nobody wants to buy lingerie from a woman who looks like her loser boyfriend’s been using her as a punching bag. It doesn’t send the right message. Also, you’re going to have cameras down there, thanks to the werewolf and the asshole, and it’s a lot harder to get rid of them on a public street. Interviewing your neighbors and your customers, shooting all that sexy lingerie? It’ll be good for business. It won’t be good for you.”

  “Paige calls him the Venetian vulture,” Lily said. “And I can’t afford to take a day off. It’s just about our busiest season. I can’t stick Hailey with all that. And how would you know? When did you talk to Hailey?”

  “She took a lunch break,” Martin said. “I happened to join her. Information is power. And you can afford it, because luckily, you’ve got me, and remember? I need the work. Who worked retail for much too long?”

  Lily’s face hurt, so did everything else, and all she wanted was that bath, and then bed. Getting hurt, especially when it came with a side order of humiliation, made you so tired. She’d forgotten that. She did her best to maintain, though. “You work for Rafe, not me. I couldn’t ask you to do that. Anyway, what kind of retail?”

  “We will not discuss the scooping of ice cream,” Martin said. “We will discuss catalog sales. Your dowdy outdoor wear? Your cozy fleece slippers and monogrammed dog beds and horrible rubber-toed boots? Let’s just say, ‘Employee of the Month.’ That’s what you get when you tell the customer, ‘You know what? Hang on two seconds and let me run and take a look on the shelf for you. I don’t want you to have to return it, so let’s get you the right size. And—ooh. Did you see the darling matching robe that goes with that?’ Also—LA waiter? Rafe has to pay me very, very well. I got tips.”

  Lily was trying to think of a reason this would be a bad idea. It felt way too seductive. Way too easy. Rafe wasn’t helping, just leaning back, drinking his beer, and looking amused, like paying his assistant to do her job was a great plan. She said to Martin, “And, of course, you won’t be camping it up, just because most women have always longed to have a gay best friend to go shopping with, and all they know about it is what they see on TV.”

  That made both guys laugh. “Come on,” Martin said. “I wanted to be an actor too, you know. You aren’t really going to deprive me, are you? It would be so much fun. That catalog I worked for? Over three thousand SKUs. Ask Rafe about my memory. Go on, ask him. You’ve got time, because I’m making dinner. If I’m lucky, you’ll hand over the keys to the shop so I can study the inventory before tomorrow. It looks fab, from what I’ve seen. I can’t wait.”

  “His memory’s good,” Rafe said. “To say the least.”

  Lily was going to answer, but her phone rang in the living room. She thought, Bailey, and then realized it wasn’t. Before she could climb off her stool, Rafe had brought her phone to her and was handing it over.

  “Hey, sweetie,” she said to her sister. “How are you?”

  “Do not give me that,” Paige said. “Why haven’t you answered my calls? What happened? Jace hasn’t been able to reach Rafe, either. What is going on?”

  “Don’t tell me Jace is worried about Rafe,” Lily said. “I’d say nobody needs to worry about Rafe.”

  “Don’t stall,” Paige said, her voice fierce. “Tell me.”

  “What?” Rafe was asking, so Lily sighed, said, “Putting you on speaker,” and laid the phone on the countertop. “Antonio showed up, and so did the press. You’ll see tomorrow, I’m sure. It’s news, at least tabloid news. It was a dramatic confrontation.”

  “And?” Paige asked. “What did he do? That son of a bitch.”

  “Hit her.” That was Rafe. “Slapped her across the face and knocked her down onto the steps.” He said to Lily, “If I don’t tell her, she’ll badger you until she knows. No worries, Paige. I hit him, too. You’ll see. News at eleven.”

  “By the way,” Lily said in what she knew was a fruitless effort to divert her twin, “according to Antonio, you’re a lesbian. Don’t tell Jace.”

  “Really?” Paige said. “Good to know. That way he’ll be scared. That scumbag. You’d better have called the cops.”

  “He’s already scared,” Lily said, choosing to ignore the part about the cops. “Wait till you see.”

  “Right,” Paige said. “Do you need me to come? Or do you
need to come here? How bad are you hurt?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Lily said, as she’d told Paige so many times when she’d been married. The difference was that this time, it was true. “Rafe’s here. I’ve even just been offered help in the shop. Martin’s going to do it for tomorrow, anyway, because even though I’m truly not hurt very badly at all, my face doesn’t look great. Oh, wait. Hang on. Keys.” She went in search of them, came back and handed them to Martin, and said, “I’m back. So, yeah, he’s doing the shop. I hate to say it, sweetie, but…”

  “He’ll be better than me,” Paige said. “Don’t rub it in. Anyway, I had some good ideas. I even sold some nightgowns. Are you sure you don’t need to come down here?”

  Lily wanted her bath. She wanted it a lot. She wanted to quit talking and do some thinking, or some not-thinking. “I’m sure,” she said. “I’m surrounded by protectors, it seems, and I’m not helpless anyway, not anymore. Plus, there’s the little girl I told you about. Bailey.” How could she have forgotten Bailey?

  “Huh,” Paige said, then went on slowly, “How weird is it that we both got hit in the face up there? And that Jace and Rafe were there when it happened? Wait. Don’t tell me.”

  “Don’t tell you what?” Lily asked. Her mind was trying to shut down. Disassociation, it was called, when you’d had too much trauma and part of you split off and went somewhere else. She didn’t do that anymore, though. She was a fully integrated personality who didn’t need protection to survive. She could stay right here. She just needed some quiet time.

  “Don’t tell me he did you in the shop, too,” Paige said. “On the counter? Or where? Wait. It was on the floor, wasn’t it? Wow. You really have changed.”

  Lily forgot about disassociation. She squeaked instead, grabbed for the phone, and pressed the speaker button off as a hastily muffled bark of laughter came from behind her.

  “Speaker,” she hissed, and heard a masculine protest at the other end of the line. Jace was listening, too. Wonderful. “Oh, great, Paige. Thank you for sharing.”

  “Oh. Whoops,” Paige said. “Sorry.” She didn’t sound all that sorry. “He did, didn’t he? And was the first time at your place? If you tell me there was a thunderstorm and a power outage, it’ll be even weirder.”

  Lily grabbed her wine and went into the living room. She changed her mind, though, and headed up to her bedroom instead. “Martin was in there,” she informed her sister. “Thank you. Yes, there was a power outage, but there are lots of power outages up here.” Twinship wasn’t destiny. She’d worked too hard on becoming a whole person, not just the soft, fragile yin to Paige’s positive, definite yang. “And do you have to tell everybody? Maybe Rafe and Jace don’t share like we do.”

  “They do now, apparently,” Paige said. “OK. I’m going to accept that you don’t need me, because those guys are obviously way more alike than I realized, and Jace is the most protective man in the world. This is all super spooky, though, and I want to know more when you’re feeling better. If you need me, come down. And tell Rafe, if the Venetian vulture shows up again? Punch him another time for me. In the throat.”

  When Lily came downstairs again, she was wearing her most comfortable waffle-weave white cotton robe, had her hair piled on top of her head, and felt a little better. The bath had helped. Rafe reached into the freezer, handed her one of the softer ice packs Martin had brought, then turned the oven on. “Martin breaded chicken,” he told her. “He pounded it first so it’d be tender enough for you to eat with a bruised face. We have veggies ready to roast, and a salad, too. Did you take something for the pain?”

  “He’s amazing, isn’t he?” She covered her eye, which was puffy, deep red, and fully closed now, with the ice pack. It did hurt, and her bruised side hurt, too. “I took some Tylenol. I called Hailey, too, and told her about tomorrow. She sounds excited, which is galling for the ego. I also asked if she’d mind looking for Bailey. She drove around by the park, but she didn’t see her.”

  “She’ll be OK, surely,” Rafe said. “She’s been OK so far.”

  “I know you’re right.” She sighed. “Thank goodness we already had sex today, huh?”

  Rafe paused in the act of pouring olive oil over the vegetables. He resumed the action, put the bottle away, and said, “Which means what, exactly?”

  “I don’t—” she started to say, then stopped and said, “Sorry. I hurt. Probably not making sense.”

  He took another long look at her, and she wondered what he was thinking. You asked him to stay, she reminded herself. Time to be the person you are, and let him know you see the person he is, too. What’s the point of any of this if you can’t both be that? “Or I am making sense, possibly,” she said. “I’m feeling less than glamorous and appealing, and I’m feeling ashamed. I’m trying to be my real self here, and it’s not easy. I’m scared that you won’t want to stick around once you know the whole thing, and I want you to, because something in you calls to me so hard. And I can’t believe I just said all that, but I did. Please talk now.”

  A long, long minute passed before he said, “I don’t know whether to laugh or kiss you. Gently. Could be I need somebody to write my next line, but since he’s not here, I’ll have a go.” He let out his breath. “If I weren’t here and this had happened, what would you do?”

  “Oh,” she said, and tried to laugh herself. “Probably go to bed? Honestly.”

  “Then,” he said, “why don’t you do that?”

  “Because I’m hungry,” she said. “That’s the truth. I’ll amend my answer. Go to bed with a bowl of cereal.”

  “I’ll bring you a plate, then. Want me to cut your chicken up for you?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Please.”

  It still felt unreal. But in a much more real way.

  When he came upstairs twenty minutes later, she clicked the TV off and said, “Wow, a tray and everything. Thanks.”

  “Thank Martin,” he said. “He found it. Sorry, but things may be a bit reorganized down there. All the labels on your cans are now facing forwards. He does that. Want company? We can keep watching TV if you like.”

  “Yes. Please. On the company.” When he stacked the pillows up on his side and climbed onto the bed, she said, “You probably noticed that I was watching my first Rafe Blackstone movie. Your first Beast feature. I can’t believe I haven’t watched before. I probably didn’t want to risk falling in love with you any more than I already had. Too late, though. I thought it would be more like a comic book, that you wouldn’t feel as real as you do. You’re very strong. It’s incredibly satisfying, too, isn’t it? I kind of want to keep watching. Also, I’m babbling. The scary L-word got said again. This time, I said it. Phew.”

  “Am I addressing that?” he asked. “Or no?”

  “No,” she said. “Please. Not this minute.” She tried to smile. “Let’s talk about you.”

  He smiled himself, put his own plate on the nightstand, and set the tray in her lap. A glass of wine, roasted vegetables that didn’t require too much chewing, and chicken breast cut up into tempting, tiny bites. Like he saw her all the way through, the way he had since the beginning, and he paid attention. “Dangerous words to say to an actor,” he said. “We can watch if you like, although I don’t much enjoy watching myself on screen. And it can be satisfying, yeah, if you mean the world of superheroes. A simpler place, where the good guys always win. Who needs reality every minute?”

  “Exactly,” she said. “I know the difference, and so do you. So what? Why not be entertained? But it’s more than that. More than being good-looking and sexy. You seem real on screen. Genuine. All the way there. You aren’t just playing strong. You are strong. When I watch, I feel proud to know you.”

  Silence for a moment, and then he said, “Thank you.”

  He started on his dinner, calm all the way, and after a minute, she said, “And you want to know what that was all about out there.”

  “A bit hard to answer that,” he said. “It’s like yo
u coming downstairs, thinking there was something you had to do, a script you were meant to follow. I don’t need you to tell me tonight if you don’t want to. I’ve got the gist. That wasn’t the first time he’d hit you.”

  “No.” Did she want to tell him? No. But she also didn’t want it lurking in the background. She didn’t want him wondering. She didn’t want to wonder what he believed. Time to tell him. “It got worse as it went along, but it was always more of an emotional thing anyway. Control, and…contempt, you’d call it. You saw it. Contempt can shrivel you. When it’s there every day, when you’re waiting for it…it’s worse than the physical part, and you can’t show it to anybody. You can’t say, ‘See what he did to me?’ It’s invisible. And you’re never sure that you don’t deserve it. That’s the hardest of all. The physical part was usually things that didn’t leave a mark, too. Shoving me into the wall during an argument. Pushing me down on the sidewalk, so I fell, and then walking away. Humiliation and shock, more than pain. Keeping me tense, waiting for it. Not wanting to provoke him. Walking on eggshells.”

  Rafe muttered something, and she said, “It sounds bad when I tell you, which is why I told you, but it just felt like my life at the time. It was always my fault, you see, because I’d made him mad, because I’d been stupid again. Dramatic. Overemotional. It took me so long not to see myself that way. And if you want to know why I stayed…” She stopped. That was always the hard one to answer, even to herself. “Why does anybody stay? People have written books about it. Because it starts small and escalates until it feels normal, until you are sure you deserve it. Because they’re manipulative. Because they choose you to begin with, knowing they can work on you, and then they do work on you. Guys who want to take? They find women who are programmed to give. And you’re too ashamed to tell anybody what’s really going on, especially if you look like you have everything. You know what other people will say. Exactly that. ‘If it’s that bad, why are you still there?’ You’re a gold-digger anyway. The shame, though—that’s the worst. You start to think you really are that stupid, that you really can’t do it on your own. He tells you so, and it just…” She stretched out a hand, palm down, pushed it into the comforter, and knew she wasn’t explaining well enough. “It sinks in.”