AFTERGLOW (22 page)

"And will continue to be so until they're eighteen, I imagine," Chelsea said. "Then they will magically know everything." She tossed a smile toward David. "Ah, that freshman year in college, the height of one's mental powers."

"Yes, well, it is important that they have the right
influences,
don't you agree?"

"I believe I see a roomful of probable good influences," Chelsea said.

"Perhaps," Margaret said, her cultured voice becoming a bit shrill. "It is simply different from what they're used to. David understands what I mean."

David arched a thick brow. "What I understand, Margaret, is that the world is full of people and children adapt marvelously well."

The general returned, but the spigot was open now, full blast, and Margaret continued without pause, her coffee cup jingling a bit. "I met the Lattimers, Chelsea's parents," she said, as if clinching the matter.

"Margaret," the general said in his calm deep voice, closing his hand over hers, "Harold and Mimi are delightful people."

"He
wears gold chains and half
her
sentences are in high school French!"

"Oh, no," Chelsea said, laughing. "Mother never had high school French. She picked that up when she was in Paris. After she visits Vienna this summer it will be fractured German again. I have always found it most amusing. As for my father," Chelsea added, her voice losing a bit of its lightness, "he enjoys life, gold chains and all, and he doesn't hurt other people."

"They are very caring people, Margaret," David said. "I met them when Chelsea had to have emergency surgery."

This elicited an odd look from Margaret, who suddenly announced, "I believe I shall go to the ladies' room."

The general, an officer and a gentleman, rose to help her.

"Won't you come with me, Miss Lattimer?" Margaret asked from her new commanding height.

Chelsea winked at David. She leaned down and whispered in his ear as she passed his chair, "She's going to bring out the heavy guns now. This ought to be fun."

"Be serious, Chelsea," David said.

She looked at him for a long, steady moment. "I'd hoped we were beyond that," she said, and left.

David cursed softly into his coffee cup. A waiter hovered, and David waved him away. The general said in his deep, pleasant voice, "Chelsea is a charming young woman. Her parents are also charming. Margaret is charming when she doesn't feel threatened and manages to forget that she's a snob. She does forget it more and more now, David."

"Yes, of course, certainly. Did you enjoy Honolulu?" David asked, striving for a little charm himself. But he felt abused and a bit angry. Damn Chelsea, anyway! This was serious, and she was treating the entire situation as if it were an amusing part of one of her novels.

"Yes, certainly. It's difficult, I think, to change one's attitudes. To view life, if you will, from more than one angle. Incidentally, I am going to marry Margaret. We will live in Washington. She will enjoy it."

David's eyes fastened on the general's face. "The kids," he said, swallowing.

"I'm delighted that Margaret, despite her motives, left us alone for a while. Don't worry about Chelsea. That young woman can certainly handle Margaret at her most … well, in her Mrs. Full Charge mode. I have three grown children, David, and I find yours delightful. I am not their father—you are. I will convince Margaret that half their time should be spent with you."

"Good luck," David said, now staring at the dregs in the bottom of his cup.

"No, I don't believe luck is involved." He paused a moment. "You never knew how to handle Margaret, or you were simply too busy with your medical studies, and then you didn't care, because both of you grew in different directions. I assume that you do want to see more of your children?"

"Certainly," he snapped, then sighed deeply. "Life is never simple or clear-cut, is it?"

"No, but that would be boring," said the general.

"You should have been in World War II. We would have won much sooner, I suspect."

The general laughed.

"What a lovely shade of lipstick," Chelsea was saying to Margaret at that moment. She'd spent an unconscionable amount of time in the stall, not to annoy Margaret, but to get herself under control. Damn David, anyway! Reverting to being a stuffed shirt again, without a bit of humor!

Margaret said nothing, merely continued outlining her mouth with a shade Chelsea had to admire.

Chelsea sat in a stool beside her and gazed into the mirror. "Oh, dear, my hair always informs me when it's damp outside." She began pulling a comb through her bouncing curls.

Margaret said abruptly, "I know you're sleeping with David."

"It's all a wager," Chelsea said. "A scientific study, as it were. Since you arrived, however, our lab work has been severely curtailed. Actually," she added with a mournful voice, "it's been nonexistent." She heard David's voice telling her to be serious. Dratted man, she was serious when it was warranted, wasn't she?

"I assume you enjoy sleeping with him."

There was no cattiness in Margaret's voice, and Chelsea frowned. Perhaps, she thought, she should be just a bit less flighty and flippant. "Yes," she said, her voice softening involuntarily as she met Margaret's eyes in the mirror. "Yes, I do. He is a very sexy man and a very nice man."

"David, unlike most men," Margaret said after a brief pause, "doesn't sleep around. He did not leave me for another woman. To the best of my knowledge he was faithful to me until the divorce. He left me because we no longer cared about our life together."

"I don't think I'll ever marry," Chelsea said. She added quickly, "Not that I'm criticizing, by any means. Commitments are tough, and I, for one, don't think I care to try one so binding as marriage."

Margaret gave her a funny look, then fished in her makeup bag for her compact. "I am worried about my children," she said after a long pause. "It's not that I don't believe what you just said. It's just that if David decides he wants you, he will win, don't doubt it. He's very forceful. Do you know this is the first time that he's spent so much time with his children?"

"I suspected that."

"During the last two years of our marriage he spent more and more time at the hospital—to avoid me, of course. Unfortunately, it also meant not seeing his children."

"That must have been difficult," Chelsea said.

"David has changed," Margaret said, frowning a bit. "The children don't realize it, of course. They tell me that Father said this and that, and I stare at them. Perhaps it's the California air, or more likely it's knowing someone like you." Margaret turned and faced Chelsea straightly. "I've been something of a bitch to you, and I apologize. The children like you very much."

"I like them," Chelsea said. "I will try to loosen them up, Margaret, if I spend time with them. But I don't believe that involves corrupting their young minds."

"No, I guess not. Taylor showed me what she called her Marin sailing togs. Those pink sneakers are too much."

"Taylor is already showing signs of being a good sailor. Mark, too, for that matter."

"I'm pleased about that. I do want my children to enjoy themselves. May I call you 'Chelsea'?" At Chelsea's pleased nod Margaret continued, saying unexpectedly, "David told me the kind of novels you wrote, and I shuddered and made disapproving noises, which, of course, he expected me to. Actually, I enjoy reading long historicals, and I've read several of yours. They take one to a different time, away from all the complexities of the modern age, and make one, well, feel that there can be an ideal relationship between a man and a woman. Am I making any sense at all?"

"Oh, goodness, yes," Chelsea said. She added thoughtfully, "You know something, Margaret? I think I've been wearing blinders. I spouted off once to David that women didn't want to read about men like their husbands—you know, beer bellies and all that—but that isn't true at all. Maybe that's true sometimes, but I think it's just as you said. Romance is a hard quality to maintain when you're surrounded by the daily demands of work and family and fixing leaky faucets. Perhaps reading a novel, or seeing a romantic movie simply brings romance to the fore again and improves things. Ah, tell me to shut up." Chelsea grinned. "Once I get going, it's like the Rough Riders going full charge up that hill."

"Not at all. I've never met an author before. Perhaps, between us, we've made the definitive statement."

"Sounds reasonable to me."

"You really didn't make love to David last night, did you?"

Chelsea laughed. "I slept like a log. Poor man, he probably didn't get home until very late and was dead on his feet. There'd been a major emergency, a wreck on 101. It was on the news." Her voice became very sober, and as serious as David could have wished. "Margaret, I had told him that I would stay with the kids until he got back from the hospital. I did, and I eventually went to sleep. I would not have made loud and passionate love with your children down the hall."

Margaret laughed. She rose and smoothed down her dark blue silk dress. "You know something?"

Chelsea cocked her head.

"I think I shall make loud and passionate love tonight."

"Go for it," Chelsea said.

"Bizarre," David said. "I felt like I'd been put through an experience warp."

Margaret, the general and the kids had gone to the zoo, and David and Chelsea were at a hamburger joint, south of Market Street nearly shouting to be heard over the din.

"I had the same feeling. You know something else, David? I think everything is going to work out for you. And for Mark and Taylor. And for Margaret and the general."

David took a big bite out of his hamburger, chewed thoughtfully, then said, "I had consigned the evening to perdition when Margaret started on you."

"Well, we've still got this evening to go. Mom and Dad, you know. Drinks at the Hyatt."

David, diverted, said, "If they like the Hyatt so much, why don't they stay there? It's quite a taxi ride from the Fairmont to the Embarcadero."

Chelsea said primly, her eyes sparkling, "The Hyatt is too
moderne. Très chic, naturellement, mais trop—
Gallic shrug—
je
ne sais pas quoi.
Another Gallic shrug."

"This is terrible. I understood you!" He sat forward suddenly and clasped her hands between his. "You're a brick, Chels."

Chelsea ran her tongue over her lower lip. "Do bricks get horny, David? Like turnips?"

His hands tightened on hers. "When do we have to see your parents?"

"Not for another three hours," she said, trying for a seductive look. She succeeded, and David sucked in his breath.

They arrived at David's flat twenty minutes later, and three minutes later than that they were in the bedroom, their clothing in a straight line from the entrance hall.

"David," she gasped as he tossed her onto her back and pulled her legs over his shoulders, "this isn't at all scientific!"

He lowered his head and began to caress her and love her. "David, I—" She had no idea what she would have said, for at that moment she felt her body go haywire. She tugged at his hair, gasping at the intense sensations washing through her. "I don't believe this," she moaned; then her body arched upward as he thrust deeply into her. She felt him moving in her, felt his fingers find her, and she was gone.

But David held back. He didn't know how he did it, but he did. He brought her to pleasure two more times, reveling in the look of utter astonishment on her face. Reveling in the feel of her, the intense heat of her body. He arched his back and exploded deep inside her, and she thought him the most beautiful sight in the universe—his neck muscles corded, his arms flexing, his eyes closed tightly.

"Is there still life in this male body?" she said after long moments of regaining breath and voice.

"No, not even an ounce." David raised himself a bit so he could see her face. "Chelsea," he said, his voice uncertain, even wary, "I've never felt anything like that before."

"You're complaining?"

"No, it scares me." He stopped and blinked, and she wondered what he would have said. He grinned now. "Do you know how great you just were, lady?"