by Leslie Kelly
His jaw stiffened and intensity flashed in his eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever get you out of my mind, and I don’t want to try.” He lifted a brow in that confident, sexy expression of his. “Have you forgotten? I agree with you about Rhett and Scarlett. Insanity is better than boredom any day. Opposites attract, but don’t stay together. Like belongs with like, Venus.”
She almost smiled, knowing he still wanted her, knowing she felt the same way. He just hadn’t yet seen the flaw in his logic.
“Don’t you see, Troy?” she asked softly, admitting the truth to herself, as much as to him. “We are opposites.”
If this were really Gone With The Wind, he’d be Rhett and she’d be Belle Watling, the madame with the heart of gold who could never fit into the hero’s rich highbrow world.
She’d thought they were alike, and perhaps in some ways, they were. But not enough for forever. Not enough to prevent eventual heartache.
He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say a word, the door opened and Mrs. Harris looked in. “Mr. Longotti thinks you should come down now,” she said to Troy, giving them both a sorrowful look. “Apparently Mr. Gallagher has been making some calls on his cellular phone already. Mr. Longotti doesn’t have the numbers for all the board members here at the house and thinks you should go into the office right away.”
Troy looked torn. Finally he stood. “This isn’t finished, Venus. We’ll talk about it later, when I get back, all right?”
Later, when he got back, she intended to be gone. But she didn’t say anything.
Troy turned to follow Mrs. Harris out. Before exiting the room, however, he turned back to the bed. Cupping her cheek in his hand, he tilted her face up and pressed a hard, insistent kiss on her mouth. “This conversation isn’t over.”
She had to disagree. Two hours later, after a heartfelt goodbye to Max, who tried to convince her to stay, Venus got in a cab for the airport. As she flew away from Atlanta, she whispered, “You’re wrong, Troy. It’s definitely over.”
12
VENUS SPENT her first two days back in Baltimore wallowing and eating lots of chocolate. Max called twice, both times telling her she was always welcome in his home. He’d also mentioned Troy. “He’s angry, and, I think, hurt,” Max said Sunday night. “He can’t understand why you left. I can’t either. I have eyes—I know something happened between you two.”
Knowing Max was only trying to be helpful, she admitted the truth. “He thinks we’re a lot alike. I think we’re opposites. Maybe it wouldn’t matter if we were both a little right, or both a little wrong, if we really loved each other.”
At her pause, Max prompted, “And you don’t?”
She couldn’t answer. Instead, she changed the subject, making Max chuckle while she told him stories of her moody cat, who’d repaid her for being gone by leaving yucky presents all over her apartment her first day back.
He hadn’t laughed when she’d told him someone had broken into the vestibule of her apartment building twice last week, vandalizing the mail boxes. Luckily, Venus had arranged to have her mail held before she left, meaning there’d be a bunch of bills to pick up at the post office Monday morning.
“Funny,” Max said. “It turns out Leo was in Baltimore last week, while you were here. He was meeting with a P.I., whose name has turned up on some checks from Longotti Lines over the years.” He sniffed. “My accountants spent the day in the office. They think the sneaky little bastard’s a thief as well as a liar.”
Venus’s first thought was to wonder if Leo had thought to steal his money back from her. She thrust it out of her mind—Leo had told her he had the cancelled check, so he knew she’d cashed it. She had absolutely nothing else that he needed, and he’d only known about her for a matter of weeks. So the P.I. had to have been working on something else that didn’t involve her.
The pile of bills at the post office was bigger than she’d feared, so Monday she went straight to Flanagan’s. She needed money. Since she’d sent the entire five thousand dollars she’d gotten from lousy Leo to her foster mother—unable to even consider keeping a dime of it for herself—she needed cash now.
“Tell you what,” Joe said when she showed up. “You tell me where I can find this Leo guy so’s I can break both his legs, and you can come back to work right now.”
Venus kissed his grizzled cheek and got to work.
On Wednesday afternoon, Joe’s waitress had an appointment and Venus leapt at the chance for an extra shift. Wednesdays were the slowest day at Flanagan’s, so after lunch Venus assured Joe she could handle things while he ran to the bank. He’d been worried about keeping cash on hand because of a rough-looking stranger who’d hung around a lot last week.
“Hey,” he said before leaving, “I forgot. There’s a package for you. Maureen sent it here since she knew you were away. It’s under the bar.”
Remembering her foster mother had promised to send some old papers, Venus glanced at the package. Not wanting to open it until she was alone, she left it on the shelf.
Right now, two businessmen occupied a corner booth. When they weren’t hitting on her, they were busy whispering, probably about their plans for world domination, or for screwing over their shareholders. An elderly woman and her two middle-aged daughters, who said they were on a shopping spree, were in another booth.
The only other person in the place was a silent, dark-haired chick dressed all in black, who sat at the bar. She faced the door, able to see everyone who entered. Venus had the feeling she didn’t trust anyone enough to present them with her back. With her pale skin, striking hair, dark clothes and unsmiling expression, she reminded Venus of Tuesday Adams from the old Adam’s Family show.
None of them were conversationalists, which left Venus time to wallow in self-pity because she hadn’t heard from Troy. She shouldn’t have cared—she was the one who’d left without a goodbye. But, dammit, he could have at least made the effort.
“Probably moved on to the next willing female before my plane left the ground,” she muttered.
Taking a damp rag to a stubborn dried stain on the surface of the bar, she glanced up when the door opened. About two grand worth of designer clothes, wrapped around a stunning redhead, walked in off the street. A lifetime worth of antipathy for the wealthy sent a tiny shot of stiffness up her spine.
Then Venus paused. She’d just spent a week with a rich man, Max, whom she now truly loved. Besides, this woman had a simmering look of intrigue and a boatload of attitude. That made anyone okay in Venus’s book. She greeted the newcomer with a smile.
“Cool shirt,” the woman said. She took a seat at the bar, crossing her legs in a way that most women in a short dress would consider a requisite for modesty, but which Venus recognized as a subtle sign to any man within drooling distance. A glance at the dweebs in the booth confirmed the Pavlovian response.
Venus looked down at her favorite old T-shirt, complete with saucy mascot. Troy might not have known who she was, but any self-respecting redhead sure as hell would. She grinned, then glanced at the other woman’s designer outfit. “You don’t look like the T-shirt type.”
The woman’s warm laugh continued to draw the eyes of the two businessmen, as she’d almost certainly intended, probably more due to nature than design. “Believe me, sister, I don’t dress this way every day. And I certainly don’t do it for myself.”
Frankly, if Venus had buckets of money, she’d dress only to please herself. Except, perhaps, in the bedroom. Hell, for Troy, she might actually have given in and tried a thong again!
The woman had continued speaking, still talking about Venus’s shirt and Jessica Rabbit. “I’d like to think I have a lot in common with her. Not bad, just drawn that way.”
Venus nodded. “Ditto.” Without being told, she instinctively knew the woman with the smoky voice would be a whiskey drinker. She poured her a shot of the good stuff and slid it over. “My name’s Venus. Venus Messina.”
The woman extended her
hand. “Sydney. Sydney Colburn.”
Venus instantly recognized the name, which was on the spine of several of her all-time favorite novels. “Sydney Colburn. No kidding? The writer?”
After Sydney tasted the whiskey, she nodded that it was to her liking. “One and the same.”
Sydney Colburn’s books had provided many nights’ escape during the past year. Venus might have sworn off men physically, but she’d been addicted to reading about the kind of fabulous guys this woman created with such thrilling—throbbing—detail.
After telling Sydney how much she’d liked her heroes, saying it was too bad more men couldn’t live up to her standard, she added, “And my favorite thing about your books—no wimpy heroines!”
“Men who meet my standard do exist,” the author said softly. “The trouble is finding them.”
Venus almost snorted at that one. “Finding men has never been a problem for me.” Hell, she’d been finding men who’d attracted her since she had been old enough to look up the word orgasm in the dictionary! “Keeping them? That’s another story.”
“The good ones or the so-so ones?”
Venus sighed. “Good or even so-so wouldn’t be bad. Unfortunately, the only ones I seem to manage to hang on to are the creeps who cost you jobs or empty your bank accounts. Not the green-eyed dreamboats with chestnut hair and the kind of wicked, sexy grin that oughta be illegal.” She glanced away, trying to thrust Troy’s image out of her mind.
Sydney obviously noticed and made a knowing sound.
“What?”
“You got it bad, sister.”
Venus scowled. “Speak for yourself.”
After Sydney admitted she was speaking for herself, Venus poured her another drink.
“We bad girls have it tough, you know?” Venus said. “Those Goody Two-shoes have saying ‘no’ down to an art form, blaming morals or past hurts. We say yes because of those same morals or past hurts! We can’t seem to give up on the idea that the next handsome stud who comes along might erase what the last one did.”
“Handsome studs are a dime a dozen.”
The lady in black, whom Venus had nearly forgotten about, had obviously been following their conversation. Venus approached the attractive young woman, whose demeanor, clothes and attitude sent off one signal: mysterious. “Hey, girl, I almost forgot you were here. Come join us. Bad girls need to stick together.”
The woman looked back and forth between them, still wary, but considering. Then her lip curled, possibly in jaded amusement. “Bad girls. Are we forming a club here?”
Venus snorted at the very idea. “Last club I belonged to was the Girl Scouts. I got kicked out when I was eleven.” As Sydney raised a questioning brow, Venus explained. “Summer camp. I got caught sneaking into the boys’ cabin to play Seven Minutes in Heaven. The troop leader came in just as I was heading into the closet with Tommy Callahan.” She shook her head and sighed at the memory. “He had the cutest dimples. And cool braces.”
Sydney nodded, wearing a similar look of reminiscence.
A grin suddenly brightened the features of the woman in black, softening her face and making her look younger than Venus had figured her to be. “I never made it past Brownies. I kept altering the uniform in a way that, well, didn’t meet with the troop leader’s approval. But the boys liked it.” She winked. “Besides, brown isn’t my color.”
“Hell,” Sydney proclaimed, “my mother never let me forget I got tossed outta preschool for showing the boys my underwear.”
Venus snickered. “Hey, why was she complaining?”
“Yeah,” the brunette said with a knowing look at Venus. They finished the thought in unison. “At least you were wearing ’em.”
The three of them, strangers until ten minutes before, but sisters just the same, shared a moment of soft laughter. Seeing the understanding in their eyes, Venus wished she’d met them long ago. “I guess we’ve been members of the bad girls club since birth, huh?”
Sydney silently lifted her glass in salute, and the other woman followed suit. Venus popped the cap off a beer and joined them in an unspoken toast to wicked women everywhere. God love them.
The door opened again. This time, two young women in proper business attire entered to join the men in the booth. The suit-clad oglers promptly sat up straighter. “Oh, no, a good girl’s in sight, reign in the lust,” Venus whispered.
The stranger in black picked up her drink and moved next to Sydney, introducing herself as Nicole Bennett. They chatted for several more minutes, until the ring of Sydney’s cell phone interrupted.
Venus left to wait on the two newcomers—white wine spritzers, she coulda predicted that a mile away—then returned to find Sydney disconnecting her call. The woman drained her glass and dropped a bill on the counter. When Venus realized it was a hundred, she picked it up. “I’ll get your change.”
Sydney, however, refused. She ordered Venus to keep the change and get Nicole good and drunk. Then, with a cheery wave, she walked toward the door, easily moving out of Venus’s life as quickly as she’d moved into it.
Or, not so easily, considering her way out the door was blocked by someone coming in. A man. A big man. A big chestnut-haired man with the kind of sexy grin that oughta be illegal.
Troy.
TROY WAITED for the jolt of awareness that always shot through his body when an attractive female passed by. The redhead exiting Flanagan’s bar was certainly attractive—and knew it—but caused no familiar blast of heat to rush through him.
Only one woman did that now. The one standing behind the bar, looking ready to do one of two things: slug him, or jump on him. “Hi, Venus.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m thirsty,” he said as he slid onto a bar stool and tapped his fingers on the pitted wood surface of the bar. “What do you recommend? A Screaming Orgasm? Sex on the Beach?”
She smirked. “A Screaming Orgasm Up Against the Wall is always a good choice.”
He swallowed, hard. Damn, he’d missed the woman. “How about a Screaming Orgasm Up Against the Bathroom Counter? Or In the Pool?” His grin dared her to remember. Before she could say a word, however, they both heard a tiny wolf whistle from a dark-haired woman sitting at the bar. Troy had barely noticed her, though she was striking enough to garner attention on her own.
“Yep. Definitely oughta be illegal.” She nodded at Venus, then walked out.
“Who was that?”
“A new friend,” Venus said softly. “Now, why are you here?”
He answered with a question of his own. “Why did you leave?”
She busied herself pouring some unshelled peanuts into a wooden bowl. “What was the point of staying?”
“Maybe because Max wanted you to?” When she didn’t answer, he leaned closer. “Okay, how about because I wanted you to?”
She paused, not meeting his eye. “Did you want me to? Why?”
He sighed, wondering how such an intelligent woman could be so blind to her own appeal. Finally, tired of watching her pretend to swipe at the counter with her dingy rag, he grabbed her hand and made her stop. Then he waited until she met his eye. “Yes, I wanted you to. I told you I’m crazy about you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “That’s nice. But I have my own life, back here. We knew I was going to have to leave sooner or later.”
“You could have stayed in Atlanta. With Max.” He hesitated, then pushed harder, wondering if she was any more ready to hear this than he was ready to say it. “Or with me.”
She raised a questioning brow. “You?”
“I moved into my own place Monday, between meetings with lawyers, the board and a P.I. It’s downtown, near a Marta stop and some great shopping.” He glanced around the pub and continued to try to tempt her. “There’s even an Irish bar.”
She nibbled one corner of her lip, moistening it with the tip of her pretty pink tongue. “You want me to live with you?”
He nodded. “There. Or here. I told Max
I might be resigning from my job. It all depends on you.”
“Because…you’re crazy about me?”
Hell, he’d already gone farther with Venus than he’d ever gone with any woman—asking her to move in. Having gone this far, he figured he might as well jump in feet first. Leaning across the bar, with his elbows on the wood, he tugged her other hand in his and pulled her closer. “Because I’m in love with you, Venus.”
She yanked her hands back. “Get out! You are so not in love with me.”
Not quite the reaction he’d hoped for the first time he told a woman he loved her. He grinned. Maybe that was why he’d fallen in love with her in the first place. “No lie, babe. It’s love.”
“You can’t love me.”
He didn’t know who she was trying to convince, but it sure wasn’t going to be him. “I do.”
“We’re too different.”
“No, we’re not. We’re the same.”
She flung the rag down and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “No, we’re not the same. A guy can be a total dog and still be a wealthy, respected businessman. A woman makes a few…dozen…mistakes, and she’s a bad girl for life.”
He snickered. God, she was just priceless.
Troy saw that they’d drawn the attention of the other people in the place, including two couples who’d walked in behind him. But he didn’t give a damn. “Venus, we’re a hell of a lot alike in every way that really matters. Besides, honey, you are not nearly as bad as you like to pretend.”
Her spine stiffened at the tossed gauntlet. “I seduced my dentist when I was nineteen.”
Okay. One-upmanship. He could handle that. “I slept with the mother of one of my college buddies when I was nineteen.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I did it to get out of paying for a crown.”
“I did it to get laid.”
She glared, then thought about it. “I flashed the boy’s soccer team from the top of the bleachers when I was a freshman.”