Melissa’s gut jolted again. Uh...not like she was new at this. “I asked three times if she’d touched him inappropriately. She avoided the question, kept zooming off on tangents.”
“Oh, yeah, she’s like that.” Barbara opened her desk drawer, poked around looking for something. “I wouldn’t worry.”
Not worry? What did that mean? Melissa started feeling restless, wanted to get up and start pacing, tried to do her yoga breathing to calm her heart. “I can’t help thinking there’s something strange about this.”
“Ya think?” Barbara rolled her eyes. “Something strange that this is Bob’s third claim? Once we clear Mary Jo I think it might be time to ask him to leave the company. Or find him work in the mailroom or stockroom or driving trucks or somewhere it’s all men.”
Melissa’s leg started jiggling. Barbara had misunderstood her, coming down clearly on Mary Jo’s side, just when Melissa was starting to wonder if Bob might be telling the truth. Maybe he always had been.
“So what’s new with you? What’s happening with that photographer?”
“It’s going fine.” She forced herself to speak naturally, and not blush. “Not what I expected, but fine.”
“Hmm.” Barbara was watching her shrewdly. “Is he behaving?”
“Oh. Yes. It’s totally professional.” At least it would be from now on.
Barbara frowned and closed her drawer. “Something happened.”
“No, no, nothing. Well, nothing bad.” She couldn’t stand lying to her boss and friend, but she didn’t want Barbara seeing this in her black-and-white way and condemning Jack for what was essentially Melissa’s mistake. “It almost did, but no, nothing. We talked about it and it won’t happen again.”
“Really.”
Melissa got up and almost started pacing, then realized what she was doing and forced herself to stand still, to take a breath and slow her speech. “Yup. In fact he wants to shoot outside after work today, in public, at Seward Park. Can’t get more innocent than that.”
“Uh-huh.” Barbara was clearly skeptical. “The guy got a taste of you. He’s not going to stop until you’re in bed with him, Melissa.”
Melissa scratched the back of her neck even though it wasn’t itchy. “I really don’t think so. He seems like a good—”
“Let me give you a piece of advice, my dear.” Barbara leaned her elbows on the desk; Melissa was absolutely sure she did not want to hear whatever was about to come out of her boss’s mouth. “Guys will say anything to get laid. Anything from ‘I won’t touch you, really’ to ‘I love you.’ If you’re smart, you will not take any of it seriously. Actions are the only things that count. And if what I think happened did happen, then he’s figuring he’s already laid the groundwork and can proceed as planned. Guys like that, like Bob, like my ex, they have the whole grand plan figured out down to the last detail. Different plans for different types of women. It’s an effing science.”
Melissa went back to her chair. Her heart was pounding, her face red, she was light-headed. So much for lowering her blood pressure.
Women the world over had fallen for jerks throughout time, and would continue to. But they weren’t Melissa. She wasn’t some weakling at the mercy of her hormones. The session in the studio had been unexpected, yes. She couldn’t shake the memory of how wild and freeing it had felt to subject herself completely to Jack’s vision. But that passion had been about art, about discovering a new part of herself, not about being sexually vulnerable. It was not about Jack. “Thanks, Barbara. I’ll be careful. But I really do have it under control.”
“Yeah.” She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “You think you do. Every woman thinks she does. Trust me, Melissa, that’s when they can hurt you the most.”
Blood Pressure: Normal
MELISSA STOOD ON THE SIDEWALK outside Au Bon Repas, waiting for Jack. It was ten minutes before he was supposed to show up, but this way she could take a little time to prepare for his arrival, perform a few exercises for mental clarity, make sure her body was calm and her breathing uninhibited. Then when Jack did show up, she’d be the big ball of tranquility he counted on.
For a moment she let herself wonder what type of woman would get Jack in the end, more of a sweet, placid beauty or a dynamic go-getter hottie? Would he keep to his vow of faithful until death or not be able to put his old habits to rest? She couldn’t imagine him drifting along forever the way he was now. He had a solid core she’d bet would keep him from the eternal bachelor fate—middle and old age spent reveling in past sexploits, dressing too young, drinking too young, approaching too-young women with a gut hanging over his belt as far as his hairline was receding.
Melissa giggled, not able to imagine Jack as anything but devastating up until his death at age ninety-nine.
Oops. She shouldn’t be imagining anything right now, she should be concentrating on clearing her mind...
Her phone rang. She dug it out of her bag and peered at it, frowning. Was Jack cancelling? Going to be late?
It was finally Gretchen. Thank goodness.
“Hey, stranger, where have you been?” She covered her free ear as a motorcycle roared by. “I’ve been calling forever.”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry.”
“Everything okay?”
“Sure, yes, of course.” Her sister sounded different. Not herself.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, everything is fine. Which, coincidentally, is why I said everything was fine.”
“Okay, okay.” Melissa was worried, but what could she do? Gretchen was a grown-up, and if she didn’t want to confide in her sister, that was her business.
Yes, okay, it hurt and she was pouting just a bit. “Did you talk to Ted?”
“I did. We’d be happy to accept your gift of the cake and flowers and the photographer at our wedding, Melissa. Thank you so much.”
Melissa blinked. Who was she talking to? Her sister sounded as if she were responding to some loathed relative, Yes, please, I’d love a tongue-and-headcheese sandwich, Aunt Flossie. “Okay. Good. I’ll let Bonnie and Angela know.”
Silence. There was never silence between the sisters, not even for a second, unless they were furious with each other, and, as far as Melissa knew, they weren’t.
“So...how’s the modeling going?” More politeness.
Melissa sighed. She hated this. For whatever reason, her sister suddenly didn’t want to talk about the wedding she’d done nothing but talk about since she got engaged. So, okay, they wouldn’t. “It’s going well.”
“Has he shown you any of the pictures? I can’t wait to see them.”
Melissa bit her lip. When she’d been posing for Jack, it hadn’t really sunk in that her sister and probably her father and her colleagues and many, many other people she knew or didn’t know would be standing in the Unko, staring at her naked. “Well. Yes. You will. I guess. I mean if the gallery...likes them enough to show.”
“Why shouldn’t they? What are they like? How did he have you pose?”
Melissa took a deep breath and told her, because she told her sister everything, then held the phone away from her ear while Gretchen shrieked in delight.
“You were naked? And the scarf was— Oh, my God.” Then a horrified gasp. “Dad is going to have a fit.”
“I know, I know.” She was laughing, partly at the thought and partly at the relief of talking to her sister in a normal way again.
“Was it weird being naked in front of this guy? How old is he anyway?”
“Oh...about my age.” Her attempt to sound matter-of-fact was laughable.
“Oh, re-ealy. Cute?”
Melissa actually giggled, as if she were twelve. “You might say that.”
Another gasp. “Melissa! I knew it. What is going on between you two?”
A gust of wind blew down the street, giving a ride to a piece of crumpled paper. How would Melissa describe what was—or wasn’t—going on between her and Jack?
She did
her best. Held nothing back. The attraction, the sexual contact and her immediate pullback, her confusion and their mutual resolution, Barbara’s reaction... If nothing else, if she spilled her guts wide-open, it might inspire Gretchen to do the same.
“Wow. Melissa.”
“I know.” She laughed, gesturing at nothing. “Crazy, huh?”
“I’ve never heard you talk this way about a guy before.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve never met a guy like this before.” To her horror what she meant as a playful statement sounded throbbingly earnest. She cleared her throat frantically. “I mean a guy this, uh, complicated. And interesting. You know, artistically.”
“Uh-huh.” Gretchen was enjoying herself way too much. “I think maybe you’re a little in love with the guy.”
“In love? With Jack? Ha!” She snorted, then for good measure did it again. “Not a chance. He eats women and spits out only high heels and accessories.”
“Okay, not in love yet, but certainly a crush.” She snickered. “A bi-i-ig one.”
“Barbara put it better. She said I should stay far away from this guy because he—”
“Melissa?” Her sister’s voice was uncharacteristically sharp. “I’ve never said this to you, and I have no idea how I have the guts to do it now, but I’m going to. I know Barbara has helped you out and you’ve relied on her for advice and direction over the past few years, but Ted thinks the woman is a bitter mess.”
Melissa took a step back, as if her sister’s words would have knocked her off balance otherwise. “Well, of course Ted would. He’s—”
“I think so, too, Mel. She’s an angry, sad woman. You’re young and gorgeous and you’ve closed yourself off to love for some reason I have never been able to understand, but I suspect she has something to do with helping you validate that mistake.”
Melissa’s mouth had to close about three inches before she could speak. “I have not—”
“Then why were you freaking when kissing Jack got so intense?”
“I... Because it was...” Because it felt as if she was going to get sucked into him and never be whole and herself again. “Because a relationship right now would interfere with my life plan, with the woman I want to be—”
“Interfere with your what? Excuse me, Barbara, can you put Melissa back on?”
“Okay, okay.” Melissa glowered at a passing pedestrian. “Because to a guy like Jack, kissing is just a recreational activity.”
“Barbara again. Jack told you the kissing was intense for him, too. If you were just the next chick in line he never would have admitted that.” She made a noise of true exasperation. “Barbara has you all messed up. Being strong does not mean becoming hard. There’s nothing weak or shameful about loving someone.”
Melissa backed up again, this time until she had cool, solid concrete to lean against. Gretchen had never spoken to her like that before. No one had ever spoken to her like that before. Worse, everything Gretchen said was terrifying, and Melissa knew enough about psychology to know that meant Gretchen was hitting her mark.
“Just think about it.” Silence again, while Melissa writhed in agony. “Oh, how is your blood pressure these days?”
“Better and better.”
“Since you met Jack?
Melissa groaned. “Come on, I thought I was getting a change of subject here. What does he have to do with it?”
“Well? Is it lower since you met him?”
“Purely coincidentally, yes.”
“Uh-huh. I have a theory about that, too.”
“Having theories is my job, Gretchen.”
“I know, and this one you won’t like, either.”
Melissa stiffened. “I think I’ve had enough, but thanks.”
“For whatever reason, honey, you have a terrible fear of just being you. And trying to be someone you’re not is really stressful. I was just reading a book on this very subject.”
“Give me a break.” Melissa was vastly relieved. This theory had nothing to do with her. Gretchen’s psychological focus changed along with her nighttime self-help reading. “Jack is entirely unrelated to my blood pressure.”
“What else has changed since it went down?”
Melissa opened her mouth to proclaim, very loudly, what exactly had, besides meeting Jack.
Nothing. Cutting out the classes, taking up yoga—they’d helped some, but hadn’t made her numbers plunge the way they had lately. “I don’t know, the stars, the global economy, my hormones. Maybe it was a delayed reaction to something else.”
“Melissa, Jack seems really cool. It sounds as if you have something good between you, and the promise of something better. You’re not the type to fall for a real player. Your instinct would warn you off.”
Melissa’s heart was pounding. But she didn’t feel hot and light-headed and as if she was going to explode from restless energy as she had in Barbara’s office. She felt...alive. And really, really scared. “I think you’re jumping to a very large and dangerous conclusion.”
“Not dangerous! Attraction is completely natural, Melissa. This is what being human is about. You meet someone, you check him out and see how you fit. You don’t run screaming for the nearest guru to tell you that what every man, woman and child was born for is wrong and weak.”
Melissa was flabbergasted. This was not like her sister at all. “What the hell have you been smoking, Gretchen?”
“Sense-weed, I don’t know. You want to kiss the guy? Kiss him. You want to make love with him? Do it. You want to see him over and over again? Go ahead. How else are you going to find out who’s right for you if you never find out who’s wrong?”
“I’m not...” She stopped in frustration, utterly disoriented. Melissa was the one who gave Gretchen advice. Melissa was the together one, the substitute mom, the caretaker who’d helped raise her sister when their father had all but abandoned them to grief.
“In short, what the hell is stopping you from doing this guy except that you’re a nanny-goat chicken-wattle scaredy-pants?”
“Say what?” Melissa bristled at their ultimate childhood insult. “You are fighting dirty now, girl.”
“I know, I know.” Gretchen chuckled. “I’m done, I promise. But think about what I said. You owe me that because you can’t imagine what I went through to get up the nerve to say this stuff to you. I have to shower now because I’ve been sweating like a marathoner.”
“Ewww.” She giggled, glad they were back on familiar ground. Melissa could run a marathon and sweat maybe half a teaspoon, while Gretchen would fill a quart bottle.
“I know. But if I didn’t think there was something really worth exploring there, I wouldn’t have put myself through this. Give Jack a chance, Melissa. Or more to the point, give yourself one.”
She hung up, leaving Melissa on the sidewalk, clutching the phone to her ear, listening to the dial tone. Then suddenly she laughed. And laughed some more. She had no idea what had happened to Gretchen, but her sister was glorious, and Melissa was wildly and deeply proud of her, though she wished Gretchen had gone postal on someone else.
But she did have a point. Melissa wasn’t going to lose herself to Jack. She wasn’t the type to be happy disappearing into a man, she wasn’t Gretchen or her mother.
Maybe if Jack—
“Melissa.”
She started. A silver Volvo had pulled up to the curb, with a hot-as-hell driver wearing sunglasses that made him look even hotter. Smiling. Beckoning. They’d get in the car together, drive to the park, take more pictures. Would their chemistry explode again?
Attraction is completely natural, Melissa. This is what being human is about.... You want to kiss the guy? Kiss him. You want to make love with him? Do it...what the hell is stopping you?
Right now, finding herself with a grin the size of Kansas on her face and feet that were nearly running toward the car, she wasn’t sure anything could.
9
JACK WAS FIDGETING. Jack never fidgeted. He might on the ins
ide, no one was cool in every situation, but he prided himself on at least giving that impression. Dumb macho thing maybe, but hey, guys did that stuff and he was a guy.
“Hmm.” Pierre Balzac was poring over the shots Jack had taken of Melissa. Every now and then he’d shake his graying head or chuckle quietly. Those were the only reactions so far.
Jack wanted to grab him by the shoulders and demand, “What? What?”
Instead he paced a couple of steps, scratched his shoulder, picked up one of the gallery business cards on Pierre’s worktable and put it back.
He was stunned at how the pictures of Melissa had come out. No, this wasn’t the series he’d envisioned. His concept after coming back from the park had been relatively simple: Eve working to overcome temptation. But Melissa had taken his idea and turned the Eve-snake encounter into an epic battle that Eve had won, outmaneuvering the snake, practically feeding the apple back to him.
She glowed in the photos. She took over Jack’s art and became the ultimate celebration of womanhood: beauty, sexuality and power.
“Well.” Pierre turned over the next picture, the one where Melissa’s sensuality erupted from the flat surface of the print with a force Jack could only describe as torrential.
Well, what? This work was unlike anything Jack had done before; he felt as if his old familiar artist-self was being dismantled and reconstructed. Maybe his whole self. A difficult process. His photography mentor in college, Arliss Hunter, had always said artistic growth was painful. Jack hadn’t understood until now, when he felt like a snake himself, his old, comfortable skin suddenly itchy and strange, needing to be shed, so he could emerge larger, stronger, better.
But it sucked in the meantime.
“Huh.” Pierre turned the last page, fixed his eyes on Jack over the tops of his reading glasses then took the glasses off with a dramatic flourish. “This is not what I expected.”
“That makes two of us.”
“Really.” Balzac folded one arm across his chest. “Who is she?”
Jack shrugged. “A woman I saw in the park.”
One of Pierre’s bushy eyebrows went up. “Who is she to you?”
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