by Tamryn Ward
“I’ll go with you.” She rolled off the bed and followed him down the hall. “Chocolate Therapy is my absolute favorite. You don’t have that flavor by any chance, do you?”
Of course I do and you know it. That’s my favorite. “I might.”
They walked through the kitchen and, leaving the lights off, Jason dished out two bowls of ice cream. Monica stood waiting by the French doors, staring out into the back yard. “Can we eat out there?”
“It’s cold. You’ll freeze your butt off. You freeze when it’s eighty.”
“I’ll be fine with these warm sweats. Come on.” She opened the door, stepped out on the deck and looked out onto the yard. “Wow, this is gorgeous. I like those lights. Just enough so you won’t walk into a shrub or fall into the pool. But not too glaring.”
“You have always hated this backyard, called it The Jungle.”
“I did? Well, it is very lush, but now that I see it again, I think it’s lush in a good way. I like all the green. I feel like I’m on vacation on some tropical island. Can we sit over there? Oh! Is that a hot tub?”
He handed her a bowl. Of course she knew it was the hot tub. Why was she acting this way? “Yes.”
She ran across the deck, plopped onto her behind at the rim of the sunken tub and, setting her bowl aside, pulled up the sweatpants above her knees and dipped her feet into the steamy water. “Oh, this is heavenly.” Picking up her dish, she spooned some ice cream into her mouth.
“Glad to see you’re enjoying yourself.”
She patted the wood deck next to her. “Come and sit with me. Promise I won’t bite. My mouth is busy at the moment.”
He couldn’t help grinning as he sat and took a bite of ice cream.
“Do you still appreciate how spectacular this place is? I mean, sometimes when we’ve had things for a while we take them for granted.”
He glanced around the yard and nodded. “Yeah. I guess I do kind of take it for granted. I don’t get to enjoy it much. Don’t have the time.”
“If you’re too busy working to keep it, then what’s the sense in having it at all? If you ask me, you should consider simplifying your life, cutting back. You’ll be a whole lot happier if you do. Who wants to live for a house? It may be straight out of a House Beautiful magazine, but if you have to work twenty hours a day to keep it, what’s the point?”
Just last week Monica had made a comment about him needing to buy a bigger home, something more showy.
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks. So, does that mean you’re okay with a smaller, more economical car?”
“Oh yes. I’m perfectly fine with that.” She ate another bite of ice cream, licking the spoon before dipping it back in the bowl. “I mean, I love the Lexus. It is total class. But I don’t need it. I’m through trying to put on airs for people. I’m not what I drive or where I live. I’m me.”
“That…” Sounds nothing like the Monica I know. “…sounds like a change for the better.”
“Are you surprised?”
“A little. You’re acting very different from yourself tonight. I wonder if tomorrow when you wake up you’ll be back to your old self or not.”
“Me too. Though I’m enjoying myself this way.”
“So am I,” he heard himself say before he could stop.
She smiled again. “You’re a straight shooter. I like that.”
“I appreciate honesty too.”
“And you’re generous. It wasn’t your fault I didn’t pay my insurance and it wasn’t your fault I didn’t check my answering machine this morning. Yet you fed me, let me stay here tonight, and you’re treating me so nice—even letting me polish off the last bit of ice cream. I don’t deserve it. Heck, you’re buying me a new car. What guy does that for his scatterbrained ex-girlfriend?”
He finished his ice cream in one big bite then swallowed, welcoming the chill as it cooled his throat and stomach. “I didn’t mean for you to be stranded.”
“I know. You did what you had to.” She scooped more ice cream into her mouth and licked the spoon again. “I completely understand. You don’t owe me. You don’t have to pay my insurance.”
“There was a time—not too long ago—when you claimed I did.”
“Well, that was mighty greedy of me.” She set her empty bowl aside. “Now I’m cold.”
“Told you.”
“Mind if I take a dip in the whirlpool?”
“No. Be my guest.”
“I don’t have a bathing suit.”
“What’s that matter? It’s not like you haven’t skinny-dipped in the hot tub before.”
“Oh…yeah…right.” She visibly swallowed, showing an unexpected glimmer of uneasiness he hadn’t expected. He couldn’t begin to count the number of times he’d seen her nude before. Never once had she been self-conscious, not even the first time they’d made love. Why the sudden case of embarrassment?
What the hell was going on?
* * * * *
Jane knew it wasn’t her body she was bearing, and she knew Jason had seen it all before—or so she assumed—but that didn’t ease the burn on her cheeks or the sudden case of shyness threatening to extinguish the sex kitten alter ego she’d adopted. Being Monica hadn’t proven to be as carefree as Jane had expected, but it still had its advantages. The long legs, big boobs and beautiful face, for example. So why couldn’t she find the nerve to flaunt them?
Jason was absolutely to die for. Handsome, nice—she had no idea a guy who looked that good could be nice—and rich. What a package!
And speaking of package, the lump in his sweatpants looked mighty promising.
Determined to take full advantage of the situation, despite her fear, she drew in one of those deep yoga cleansing breaths and stood, caught the bottom of the sweatshirt in her hands, and knowing she’d taken off everything she’d been wearing under it earlier, including her bra, when she’d changed, she drew it over her head and looked to Jason for a reaction.
He looked unimpressed! The nerve of him! What male doesn’t appreciate the sight of perky, surgically enhanced 34Ds?
Figuring she had nothing to lose now, she yanked down the sweatpants and stood completely nude—a huge turn-on that was making her hot and achy all over—in front of him.
Unfortunately, it didn’t appear to have the same effect on him. He might as well have yawned in her face. Nothing stirred. He didn’t even bat an eyelash.
“Are you getting in or not?” he asked, looking a little smug, which made her uneasiness that much worse.
She couldn’t feel any stupider. “Yes.” She stepped down into the hot bubbly water and sat on the bench. Okay, so he wasn’t impressed with what Monica had. That wasn’t easy to comprehend. She was the picture of female perfection. Was he gay? “Won’t you join me?”
“No, I think I’ll just watch.”
“Okay.”
She decided to go for broke, since she seemed to be striking out completely. “Don’t you find me attractive anymore?”
“I don’t want to talk about that right now.”
“Why not? We’re two adults. We should be able to talk about anything, shouldn’t we? I can accept the truth.”
“You cannot. Once you asked me if a bathing suit looked okay. I told you it wasn’t the nicest bathing suit I’ve seen and you fell apart, refused to eat for a week.”
“That was before. Try me. Do you find me attractive?”
He looked thoughtful, and she sensed he wanted to answer but feared hurting her feelings.
“I promise I won’t cry or starve myself or anything too drastic.”
“Why are you asking me this now?”
“Because I need to know. I want to know where we stand. If there’s hope—”
“Absolutely not. There’s no hope. We won’t get back together, no matter who you act like. You could pretend to be Mother Theresa and I wouldn’t change my mind.”
“I’m not pretending to be anyone.”
“No one changes this muc
h overnight.”
“I have.”
“How?”
“I’m not exactly sure how it happened, but it did.”
“Yeah, and the minute I take you back you’ll change into the old Monica again. No thanks. I’ve had enough.”
He didn’t sound as sure as his words suggested.
“Can I ask a stupid question?”
“I guess.”
“What exactly did I do to you?”
His mouth fell open in an exaggerated show of exasperation. “Bullshit! Now you’re going to suggest you don’t remember?”
“Humor me. I want to hear it from you.”
“We’ve had this conversation once. Frankly I don’t want to go there again.”
“Please. I won’t ask again.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her, clearly expecting her to acquiesce.
“Please,” she repeated. “What happened between us? You sound bitter.”
“I have a right to be. You’ve been a conniving bitch.”
Feeling mighty exposed sitting naked in the water while he insulted her, she squirmed and moved closer to a jet, hoping the bubbles would completely hide her body. “Specifics, please.”
“You used me. You only dated me for my money. Otherwise you pretty much treated me like trash. And speaking of trash, when I stopped handing out the cash by the fistful, you dumped me like yesterday’s leftover pizza. You refused to pay your car insurance, even after costing me tens of thousands of dollars. You shamelessly flirted with all my golfing buddies until they refused to play with me and their wives threatened divorce. You stole things from my home and did God knows what with them and the last few weeks you showed absolutely no affection toward me. To sum it up, you are a stone-cold bitch. Then, after we broke up, you sold my grandmother’s art collection to a junk dealer to get even with me.”
“Wow.”
“Have you heard enough yet or do you want me to continue?”
“There’s more? No, I think I’ve heard enough. Considering all that, I’m shocked you didn’t break up with me ages ago, or at least slam the door in my face tonight.”
“I tried, remember?”
“Yeah.” She didn’t know what else to say. To Jason, she was the woman who’d done all those terrible things. He believed what he saw, like most people did. There was no convincing him of anything else.
“I didn’t say those things to make you feel bad. You wanted to hear it.”
“Yes, I did. Thanks for being honest. I think I’m ready to go to bed now.” She started to stand up but hesitated, wishing he’d avert his gaze while she dressed.
Thankfully, he seemed to sense her discomfort. He turned around and started walking toward the house. She got out of the tub and quickly put on the sweats, not caring that she was still dripping wet. Being soggy beat being nude, hands down.
In silence, she followed him inside and up the stairs. He escorted her to his room, said goodnight and left her to toss and turn, fearful of falling asleep yet hoping this experiment…or curse…or whatever it was…would end.
Maybe being plain old Jane wasn’t so bad.
The next morning was awkward and uncomfortable as Jason drove Jane home and waited for her to dress for work. Before they left, she listened to her messages, hoping she hadn’t missed anything else important.
Monica’s answering machine tape was full of calls from angry bill collectors threatening lawsuits, utilities threatening to shut off services, and creditors threatening everything but bodily harm. As she listened to the last one, she peered around the corner, hoping Jason hadn’t heard.
Monica made tons more money than Jane. There was no reason why she should be in such financial straights. What was she doing with her money?
Jason dropped her off at work, promising to return at noon to go car shopping during her lunch hour.
She hurried through her work and took half the day off. She needed some time to sort out some things and was anxious to get her hands on Monica’s bank statements and checkbook to try to straighten out the mess she’d gotten herself into.
Clearly being Monica Starke was not the cakewalk Jane had expected. Yep, being plain old Jane with the little apartment and ugly but reliable car wasn’t looking so bad anymore. It sure beat people screaming for money, angry, bitter—if positively delicious—ex-boyfriends, and a workload that would keep at least three people working full-time.
Monica, the woman who had it all, didn’t have much of anything. It was all show.
What a shocker.
That afternoon, Jason gave her a polite smile as he drove her to the car dealership down the road. “I want you to pick a car that’ll hold its value and be reliable as well as inexpensive to insure.”
“I know exactly what I want.” She chose a sharp-looking, black Honda Accord, and thanks to Jason’s financial clout, had it in her possession by later that afternoon. He sent her on her way with a wave, a couple hundred dollars cash, and a “Good luck”. She responded with a “Thanks”, and headed back to Monica’s house to tackle the bills.
Regardless of whether she remained Monica forever—something she hoped wouldn’t happen since she was beginning to miss her old life—or they eventually switched back, that was one thing that had to be straightened out, no matter how difficult it might be.
Pain in the backside or not, Monica deserved to live better than this.
Chapter Five
Jane finished out the workweek as Monica, and was exhausted by Friday night. She didn’t know whether to be grateful for the fact that the phone didn’t ring off the hook that night with a truckload of offers to go out on dates or to parties, or be disappointed. From the way Monica had made it sound, every weekend had been an adventure. Local celebrities and hotshot business owners vied for her attendance at their gatherings.
More fantasies, she supposed.
Oh well. Maybe tomorrow night she’d venture out.
She wrangled with Monica’s checkbook for a few hours, finding a lot of unexplained checks written for exorbitant amounts that made no sense, then went to bed early and got caught up on her sleep. The next morning, refreshed, and possessing a small amount of cash after paying the most important bills—like the rent—she ventured to the grocery store and stocked the cupboards and refrigerator. That night, when she received no calls from friends with impromptu invitations, she dressed in a sexy little black dress and heels and headed to her—Jane’s—favorite nightclub for a drink and some dancing. She wasn’t in the mood to be alone.
For one thing, she couldn’t stop thinking about Jason.
When she walked into the bar, she got a kick out of all the guys staring at her. She’d never experienced that much attention from men before. They didn’t try to hide what they were thinking as their gazes wandered over her body lustfully. It was a bit unnerving, made her feel like she was a prime piece of meat hanging in the butcher’s window, but for the most part she found it amusing.
More than one offered to buy her a drink but she refused, knowing what price she’d be expected to pay. She’d never picked up a man at a bar as Jane and she wasn’t about to start as Monica either.
One-night stands were not her thing…but she might consider it with Jason if he’d give her the chance.
Like that was ever going to happen!
“Excuse me?” a familiar female voice called from the end of the bar. “Can I have a Bud Light?”
Jane turned her head to see who it was, knowing she recognized the voice but unable to place it. She knew who it was the instant she saw her. Beth worked in the front, answering phones, and she’d often confided to Jane that she despised Monica. At work she acted reasonably polite but not over-friendly. “Hey, Beth! I didn’t know you came here.”
Beth shifted her eyes nervously when she realized who’d spoken to her. “Oh! Hi…Monica. I don’t usually but I’m a personal friend of the lead guitarist in the band playing tonight. Remember? I told you about him.”
&n
bsp; “Oh, that’s right.” Jane sipped her diet cola and tried to pretend she knew what Beth was talking about. “The rock star.”
“Hardly. But hopefully some day.” She paid the bartender then picked up her beer and walked toward Jane. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t call you back. Tonight was kind of a spur of the moment thing and I assumed you were busy. You’re always so busy. If I’d known you were still free, I would have called you. Honest.”
Why was Beth befriending Monica when she’d made it so clear she couldn’t stand her? Was it out of pity or was there another reason?
Beth glanced over Monica’s shoulder, clearly looking for someone or something. “Where’s your boyfriend…what was his name?”
“Jason?”
“No, I don’t think that was it. I’m talking about the radio guy you were talking about last week. I was hoping he’d be here tonight to hear my friend’s band. I gave you their CD, remember? You promised he’d take a listen. Do you know if he did?”
Aha! The truth comes out. Beth was using Monica.
Jane wondered if there even was a radio DJ boyfriend. Knowing Monica, Mr. Radio was probably as much a figment of her imagination as so many other things had proven to be.
“I’m not sure. I haven’t spoken to him in a few days. But I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”
“That’s fine. Do you want to go backstage and meet everyone?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m not much of a groupie.”
“Come on. They’re great guys. It’ll be fun.” Beth tipped her head toward the back of the bar and the currently empty stage and smiled. “They’re getting ready to go onstage now. I’ll introduce you to them.”
Jane wasn’t buying the let’s-be-friends act. In fact, it was making her a little sick. “No thanks. I think I’ll stay here.”
“You get to drink for free.”
“Then what are you doing buying your own beer?”
“I don’t care much for wine. That’s all those guys drink.” Beth tugged on Jane’s arm. “I’m not going to take no for an answer. Besides, it’ll be fun to hang out during sets when they’re playing. Do you like to dance?”