Champagne Rules (20 page)

Trying to lighten the mood, Suzanne said, “My brother-inlaw’s absolutely green. He saw your car when they came over for Sunday dinner. Turns out he had a sports car, once upon a time, before marriage and kids.”

“Can’t lug kids around in a two-seater,” Ann murmured as they swapped keys. “Look, keep me posted on Jaxon, okay?

Let me—all of us—know when you’re seeing him again. Please, Suze?”

Suzanne touched her arm. “Ann? Is everything all right?

You’ve been awfully quiet. I know we disagree about the Rules, but it’s no big deal, okay? I appreciate your concern.”

Ann hadn’t been meeting her eyes, but then suddenly did. Her cheeks were pink. “That’s not why I was being quiet. I did something . . . kind of crappy. Oh damn, Suze, I have to tell you, this is driving me crazy.”

“You did something crappy?” Suzanne shook her head. “I don’t believe it.”

“You haven’t heard it,” Ann said grimly. “Got time for coffee and a confession?”

“Of course.”

Down the block they found a coffee shop and ordered lattes. When the coffee arrived, in bowl-shaped cups, Ann wrapped her hands around hers, her interlaced fingers rigid with tension.

“Just tell me,” Suzanne said.

“Last Friday, you know we agreed you’d give a signal and Jenny and Rina and I would go home?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I drove out of the parking lot, but I just didn’t feel comfortable leaving you alone with a stranger. I parked in the next lot over.”

“You came back? I didn’t see you.”

“I didn’t want to ruin your evening.” Ann’s face was flushed.

“You . . . what did you see?” Suzanne could feel her own cheeks heat as she began to realize the possibilities. Oh God, could one of her best friends have seen her having sex? “Ann, how could you do that?” She’d known her friend had an overprotective, even controlling, streak, but she’d never thought Ann would spy on her.

“It’s not as bad as you’re thinking.”

“How bad is it?”

“I saw you and Jaxon settle down with your picnic stuff behind a big log. I couldn’t see over the log, honestly. I figured if you got in any kind of trouble, you’d call out and I’d hear. I didn’t want to get any closer because you might see me.”

“Yes, God forbid
we
might see
you
.”

Ann winced. “I told you this was crappy.”

Suzanne tried to steady her racing heart. Okay, it wasn’t too bad. She and Jaxon had made love behind the log, and Ann hadn’t seen them. They’d had their picnic and they’d . . . Her eyes widened. “You were there when we went skinny-dipping!”

Ann ducked her head and nodded.

“Jesus, Ann.”

“I’m sorry, sorry, sorry.” Then Ann looked up and shook her head. “No, wait a minute, I’m not
that
sorry.” Her cheeks were still bright, but now she met Suzanne’s gaze. “It’s a public beach. I had a right to be there. I wasn’t the only one either. You put on quite a show for a gay couple who were walking their dog. And I only did it because I care, and I was worried.”

“I . . .” It was difficult to argue with Ann’s logic, or her motivation. “I’m so embarrassed,” Suzanne muttered. “It was tacky, what Jaxon and I did. But at the time it felt so right.”

“It . . .” Ann paused, then said deliberately, “It looked right. It was . . . beautiful, Suzie. I should have felt embarrassed watching, I should have turned away, but . . .”

“Yes, you damn well should have!”

“It was like a movie.” Ann stared into her coffee. “In the moonlight, you were silhouette figures. It wasn’t really you, not someone I knew, just this female shape, together with a male shape. It wasn’t so much sexy as sensual and . . . moving.”

She looked up. “That’s why I’m so worried about you. It’s not just about sex.”

“Of course it is. You should know that better than anyone, seeing as you watched the whole damned thing.”

Ann shook her head. “There’s a connection between the two of you.”

“Sexual chemistry.”

“More than that. I could see it. If I could see it, you must feel it.”

“It . . . All right, when we make l— have sex, it feels like . . . we complete each other. That we touch each other deeply.”

“Making love. You were going to call it making love, and that’s what it is.”

Suzanne shook her head fiercely. “It isn’t. It just happens that we’re very sexually compatible, so the sex feels more intimate.”

Ann spooned up some of the foamy milk from the top of her latte. “I should have listened more closely when you first talked about him.”

Suzanne told herself to calm down. “What do you mean?”

“When you talked about that afternoon in the cave, didn’t you say the sex was really intimate, the kind of lovemaking that should create a child?”

“I . . . Yes, okay, that’s how it feels. But Ann, apply your rational mind. I can’t be in love with him, can I? To love, you have to know a person well enough to respect them.” She thought about Jaxon helping the Greek widow, and going back to the playground to dispose of the condom. But she hadn’t known those things—she hadn’t known anything about him—

when they first had sex.

She went on. “For love, you need a mental connection and an emotional one, as well as a physical one.”

“That’s what your mind says, but maybe your body knows better.” Her friend gazed at her earnestly over the cup she cradled in both hands. “Maybe your mind and emotions will catch up with your body, and you’ll find it really is love. That’s why it’s so important you know what kind of man you’re dealing with. I know you, Suzanne. What if he’s married?”

“He’s single.”

“He said so, and you believe him?”

“Yes! Why would he lie?”

“Because you wouldn’t see him if he was married.”

“He doesn’t know that.” And she did trust Jaxon. Didn’t she? “We’ve already had this discussion.” She stood up, having barely touched her coffee.

So did Ann. “Don’t hate me, Suze.”

She sounded utterly woebegone and Suzanne’s heart melted. She gave Ann a quick hug. “I could never hate you. But did you tell Rina and Jen?”

“Of course not. I just said I was worried about you getting emotionally involved.”

“I won’t let myself.”

Ann turned to go, murmuring something under her breath that sounded like, “You already are.”

On Tuesday morning, Jax met for two hours with Sam Miller, a grossly overweight, bald man who energetically denied that there was any validity to the complaints against the Family Friend managers. The denial was reassuring, though it would have been more useful to have some solid facts. Jax came away with a rough action plan in his head—one that would require him to put in at least sixteen-hour days for the next week and a half.

When he got back to the office and listened to his voice mail, he heard his ex asking him to give her a call. He buzzed Alan Cohen, the paralegal in Corporate who was handling Tonya’s file, got a quick status report, then phoned her.

“Hey, girl, what’s this about you propositioning my mother?”

She chuckled. “That woman’s easy, Jax. She was willing to settle for a five percent share, but I talked her up to ten.”

“So it’s decided? You’re really going to be partners?”

“It’s a done deal, as of this morning. She said she spoke to you last night. Thanks for not trying to talk her out of it.”

“You ever tried talking my mom out of anything?”

“True. You inherited pigheaded from her. So, anyhow, we’ll need to revise the percentages in the partnership agreement. Darissa and Consuela for ten each, me and Benjamin both at forty.”

They discussed the other details, then she said, “There’s another reason I called.”

“Oh?”

“We’re going to have a dinner party to test out some possibilities for our menu. It’ll be two, three dozen people. Wondered if you might come?”

“Mmm. I’d like to, but . . .” He and Benjamin had pretty much gotten over being awkward with each other, but some of Tonya’s friends weren’t so comfortable with it. Besides, he was going to be all-work no-play for at least the next ten days.

“When’re you talking about?”

“Haven’t set the date, but probably a couple weeks time.”

She paused, then said, “Let me guess. You’re too busy.” He recognized the edge of bitterness in her voice. Just like when we were married, she was thinking.

“Might be some potential clients for you,” she added, the bitterness sharpening.

“It’s not that,” he said, though in part it was, and he knew she knew it. For him, every social gathering meant the potential for garnering business. But damn it, he did want to support Tonya. “Let me know when you’ve got the date set, and I’ll do my best.”

“Really?” She sounded pleasantly surprised.

“Sure.”

“You can bring a friend.” Now there was a teasing note in her voice. “That is, if you’re dating these days.”

“Um . . .”

“Jax? You are dating?”

If it was a couple weekends down the road, maybe he could invite Suzanne to San Francisco. But would he want to take her to Tonya’s dinner? Would she be interested? No, he couldn’t. The Champagne Rules must prohibit it. “It’s kind of complicated.”

“Ooh, this is getting interesting. How so?”

He chose the stuff that was easy to explain. “She lives in Vancouver. BC, not Washington. I visited her last weekend. And we’ve only just, um, got together.”

“Sounds serious, for you to be flying up to Vancouver to visit. How did you meet?”

He choked, and had to cough. “Happened a long time ago, before I met you. And then . . . our paths crossed recently.”

“Jax, you have to bring her! I’ve got to meet her.”

Introduce his sex goddess to his nosy ex-wife? Despite being curious about what each would think of the other, he couldn’t imagine surviving the stress. Not to mention, his mom would be there too. He didn’t want that woman getting any ideas.

“Oh Jax, I’ll be nice to her,” Tonya cooed. “After all, any friend of yours . . .”

Friend. Was Suzanne a friend? He guessed the Rules prohibited friendship too. But maybe not. It was impossible to
not
learn things about each other. Even the most superficial conversation could be revealing. He knew Suzanne loved animals, flowers and sunshine, hated cold showers, male chauvinism and pollution. She didn’t mind guidebooks, but preferred to talk to local people. He was dimly aware of Tonya saying something about the dinner, but his brain was following its own path. Up until now, with Suzanne, he’d been thinking with his cock. But now his big head was getting involved. He realized that, while they maybe weren’t friends yet, it was likely to happen if they kept seeing each other. Was it possible to have a relationship that included both friendship and great sex? Or, if the friendship deepened, would the sexual sparks fizzle out? The champagne would go flat, and that’s why they had their Rules. Yet, for Tonya and Benjamin, the bells and whistles kept blaring even as their relationship deepened—through friendship, then love, marriage, even business partnership. But Tonya and Benjamin managed to juggle careers and their relationship. He’d proven he didn’t have that ability. Friendships involved time and energy, way more than sex did. If he tried to be friends with Suzanne, he’d fail, and failure was the thing he hated most in the world.

“
Jaxon Navarre!
You still there?”

He jerked upright. “Sorry. Yes, I’m here.”

“That gal must really be something, hon. I’ve been calling your name for, like, ten minutes, and you were off in dreamland. So, what’s her name, what’s she do? Black girl, white girl, yellow girl, brown girl?”

Her words were an echo of his mother’s. Suddenly everything clicked. “Mom’s been talking to you about more than just the restaurant business.” The two women had always done this—talked behind his back—and it drove him nuts.

“God, Jax, you sure can be slow.”

“So why are you asking these questions, if you already know the answers?” he said, knowing he sounded huffy.

“’Cause Darissa said you were real closemouthed, so we decided I’d try to see if I could get any more out of you. And I did. You didn’t mention Vancouver to your mom, or the fact you’d met this Suzanne years ago. Darissa did say she figured the girl has a sports car?”

“Red Miata,” he confirmed grudgingly. “But that’s all you’re getting.”

“Until I meet her.”

“I didn’t say I’d—” But Tonya had hung up. And now, before he buckled down to work, he’d have to e-mail Suzanne and tell her he couldn’t see her this weekend. Crap!

No, wait. He didn’t want to treat Suzanne like another item of business, crammed into the middle of his busy workday. He’d wait until tonight, when he finally made it home. There’d been no e-mail from Jaxon Monday night, when Suzanne returned from dinner with her friends. And she was too upset and confused to send off a sexy, superficial message. She had Tuesday off—each week she took a day off in exchange for working Saturdays—and the day crawled by. She drove down to Granville Island for coffee, then took a long walk along the False Creek waterfront, ending up back at the island, where she bought groceries at the market. Back home, she put chicken, vegetables and spices in the slow cooker, read a couple of veterinary magazines, then did some weeding in her mom’s garden and worked on her tan.

She only checked her e-mail about three dozen times. After dinner, she chatted on the phone with a vet student friend, watched a couple of TV shows, then curled up on top of her bed with a novel—ears alert for the clunk of arriving e-mail. This was ridiculous. Just like being a high school kid, waiting for a boy to call. And obviously this one wasn’t going to.

At eleven, she climbed under the covers and turned off the light. She drifted off to sleep, then woke two or three hours later, thinking of Jaxon. She’d never get back to sleep unless she checked her e-mail again.

And yes, now there was a message from caveman. It had come in only a couple of minutes ago.

Before reading it, she clicked REPLY and typed, If you’re still there, Jaxon, don’t go. I just got your message. 

Then she read what he’d written. Damn, he couldn’t get together this weekend. Why?

All he said was, he wasn’t going to be able to make it. Another woman? Or was he bored with her already?