Champagne Rules (23 page)

Trish chuckled. “All the time. But they wouldn’t be girlfriends if they did, would they?”

Suzanne had to laugh too. “Guess it comes with the definition?”

“Pretty much.” Trish slanted her a mischievous look. “So, got a hot date with your guy tonight?”

Did it count as a date if they were in different cities?

“Bet on it,” she said fervently.

* * *

Eleven o’clock tonight, she’d said.

Off and on all day, Jax wondered about Suzanne’s suggested time. What did eleven mean?

She must have plans for the evening, but more like an early movie and a snack than a heavy date. Or maybe it wasn’t a date at all, just an evening out with friends. Guy friends, or girls?

As for him, this Friday evening, he was deep into research on employment discrimination, getting his head around the legal issues involved in the Family Friend lawsuit. At dinner time, he dashed out to pick up a couple of Big Macs and a side of fries. Then he worked until ten thirty. As he strode home, past packed restaurants and clubs blaring with music, San Francisco was alive with energy. So was he, thinking that soon he’d be hearing Suzanne’s sexy purr. The apartment was empty, which was a relief. Not much of a surprise, though, on a Friday night. Quickly, he stripped off his work clothes, took a quick shower and grabbed a beer from the fridge.

He closed and locked his bedroom door, then stretched out on his bed with a couple of pillows behind his back. On the dot of eleven, he dialed the number he’d already memorized. His body began to harden in expectation. The phone rang twice and he frowned.

Three times. She was the one who’d said eleven. Wasn’t she back yet?

Four rings. He sat upright.

Five rings. He hadn’t thought to check his e-mail this evening. Maybe she’d changed times, or even cancelled. Six rings. His incipient erection had disappeared.

“J-Jaxon?”

No sexy purr. Instead, her voice was choked and wavery.

“Suzanne? Are you all right?”

“I’m . . . f-fine.”

Either she had a rotten cold or she was in the middle of making love to someone else—in which case why the hell would she have answered the phone?—or she was crying. Tentatively, he asked, “Is something wrong? Are you crying?”

“No, I . . . Oh damn, it’s just that Bondi died and . . .” She gave a loud snuffle.

“Bondi?” Had a relative died, or a close friend? Another lover?

She said something garbled that ended in “Jack Russell.”

A lover named Jack Russell, with the nickname Bondi? Oh crap, he’d called for phone sex and she was mourning another guy.

Okay, don’t jump to conclusions.
“This, uh, Bondi? Jack?

was a friend of yours?”

“Friend? No, a dog.”

Had she said . . . “Dog?”

“A Jack Russell’s a type of terrier.”

Her dog had died. He winced. Damn, that had to hurt. He’d never had a pet—he and his mom had never had the money or time—but he loved animals. As a boy, he’d always envied the kids who had dogs, cats, even hamsters. Except when the pets died.

“I’m sorry, Suzanne. He was your dog?”

“No, no, not mine. We operated on him this afternoon and I thought he was going to be okay.”

Operated on him? Light dawned. “You’re a vet.”

“Studying to be one.” She blew her nose. “I’m working as an assistant in a veterinary clinic.”

If she was going to be a vet, surely she’d have to get used to having animals die.

Perhaps she read his mind because she said, “I’m not usually such a mess when a patient dies. But this was the first time I’d assisted with major surgery, and it went well. Later, though . . .”

Jaxon took a slug of beer. Man, was he out of his depth. When he’d phoned, the only thing on his mind was phone sex, and instead he had a weepy woman to deal with.

“It’s not your fault,” he said. “I’m sure you did everything you could.”

“I know. Honestly, I know.” Another sniff. Then suddenly she said, “Jaxon! Oh my God, what am I doing? I’m sorry, I’m a mess and I’m breaking the Rules.”

Rules? Oh yeah, they weren’t supposed to talk about personal stuff. “It’s okay.” In fact, he kind of liked that she was sharing things with him. He wasn’t too keen on the tears, though.

“I’m going to hang up right now,” she said, “and pull myself together. Then I’ll call you back. Okay?”

He wished there was some way to help, but the fact was, the damn dog had died. He couldn’t fix this. He was about to say,

“Okay” when he remembered something his mom had told him. “Sometimes,” she’d said, “a woman just needs to cry.”

Her advice had stood him in good stead with Tonya when they were dating and first married. Before he’d let his job drive a wedge between them.

Besides, this was Suzanne. She was feeling shitty, and maybe he could help.

“No, don’t hang up. It’s okay. Maybe you just need to cry. For Bondi.”

He heard a shuddering breath and then she wailed, “I . . . I . . .”

He couldn’t make out the rest of it, she was crying so hard. He gripped the phone, feeling powerless. If he’d been with her, he would have offered her tissues. A beer. Anything, if she’d only stop crying. He’d have held her. “I wish I was there. I could give you a shoulder to cry on.”

“I l-look like such a m-mess.”

Trust a woman. “Everyone does when they cry. Besides, if your face was buried in my shoulder, I wouldn’t even see it. We could turn the lights out, if you wanted. Anything that made you feel better.”

After a moment, she murmured, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For dumping this on you.”

“Hey, that’s what friends are for.”

After the words left his mouth, he realized what he’d said. Friends. He reflected, and knew he meant it. It had taken this for him to understand they were friends.

“Thank you. Can you hold on a minute?”

“Of course.”

He heard her blow her nose a couple of times, then she was back. “I feel better.” She gave a shaky laugh. “You have a great shoulder for crying on, Jaxon, even over the phone.”

“Thanks.”

“Most men bail when a woman cries.”

He gave a rueful grin. “Yeah, that’s the first instinct. Doesn’t mean it’s the best one.”

“That’s very wise. For a guy. How did you learn that?”

“Hate to confess, but my mom taught me.”

“Bet your girlfriends have been grateful.”

“I guess. And my ex.”

“Ex? As in ex-wife?” Her voice sounded edgy.

“Damn, now I’m breaking the Rules too.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m . . . interested.”

Curious, he figured. And that curiosity was flattering.

“Yeah, I have an ex. Our marriage only lasted a few months.”

“Wow, that’s too bad.”

“Just wasn’t meant to be. We wanted different things.”

“No kids?”

“No! God, no.”

“How long ago did you split up?”

Oh yeah, Suzanne was definitely curious. “More than two years ago.”

“Do you ever think of her? Your ex-wife?”

He lay back against the pillows. “Tonya? Sure. Look, it’s not what you’re thinking; it wasn’t a horrible divorce. Yeah, we had our rough spots, but we’ve pulled a friendship out of it. In fact—” He broke off. He’d been about to mention the opening of Tonya’s restaurant, and the dinner invitation. Nope, he wasn’t ready for that. Quickly, he said, “In fact, I went to her wedding.”

“She’s married again?”

“She met Benjamin and three months later they were married. He’s a nice guy.” And a better husband. The kind of man Tonya deserved.

After a few seconds of silence, he said, “Suzanne? What are you thinking?”

“Divorced people aren’t usually so well adjusted.”

“I suppose not. We got lucky, Tonya and I.” And he’d had to grow a thick hide to avoid being wounded by all those barbs she still kept jabbing at him. The thing was, he knew he deserved a lot of them. And it was easier to let her stab, than to rehash the never winnable battle about work priorities. Without realizing it, he had relaxed. He reached behind himself to adjust one of the pillows. Too bad Suzanne wasn’t lying here with him, her head resting on his chest, her fiery gold hair spread every which way.

“I don’t mean to pry,” she said. “Tell me if I’m being rude, but what went wrong with your marriage? The two of you still care about each other, so there must’ve been a strong bond.”

He’d loved Tonya. He really had. Just not enough? “Not strong enough. Or, maybe, not the right kind. Our priorities were different.”

“Really?”

“We were both working hard. Tonya was taking courses, learning how to run a restaurant, and I was just starting to build my practice.”

“Your, uh, practice?”

He’d forgotten. On the weekend he’d been obsessed with not telling her he was a boring lawyer. Now, under the spell of late-night, long-distance conversation, he’d come close to spilling the beans. There really was a point to those Champagne Rules. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be saying this stuff. Guess we should get back to playing by the Rules.”

“We’ve already broken them so many times, let’s just suspend them for the night. What kind of practice, Jaxon?”

Fuck. He couldn’t lie. Voice flat, he said, “Law.”

“You’re a lawyer?” Her voice sounded stilted. Yeah, it was like he’d figured. She either figured lawyers were deadly dull, or pond scum. Or both. No one had ever said pond scum was exciting.

“Litigation.”

“Like, suing people?”

“You don’t want to hear about it, it’s pretty boring.”

“Boring? But . . . you like it, right? I mean, you wouldn’t do it if you didn’t like it.”

He shook his head. Were things that simple for her? “You like veterinary work?”

“It’s what I’ve always wanted.” For the first time tonight, her voice sounded relaxed and happy. “When I was a kid, I patched up every animal or bird I could get my hands on.”

For the first time, he focused on Suzanne being a vet, wearing some kind of smock or scrubs, in an animal-style operating room. And then on her as a little kid—had she maybe been called Suzie?—picking up birds with broken wings and trying to fix them. Then as a student packing a load of heavy textbooks.
This
was his sexy lover?

“So, you go to school in the winter and work at a clinic in the summer?” he asked.

“And part-time through the year. Can’t let my folks—” She broke off abruptly.

“What?”

“Now
I’m
being boring.”

It wasn’t blazing sex, but it wasn’t boring. He was intrigued, trying to fit all this new information into his image of outrageous69. “No, I want to hear. What about your parents? Were you going to say they couldn’t afford to put you through school?”

“They’ve helped a lot, but I do as much as I can. They’re not rich. They have their retirement to plan for.”

A considerate, loving daughter. He added that to the picture.

“It’s tough going to school and working,” he said.

“I manage.” She paused. “You sound like you’ve been there.”

“I went to college on an athletic scholarship and—”

“You’re kidding!?”

“No. Why? Don’t I seem like the athletic type?”

A pause, then, “Actually, you do. But I don’t think they give scholarships for,” she snickered, “the kind of athleticism I’ve seen from you.”

He chuckled. “Nope, I’m afraid it was far more conventional. Basketball.”

“Really?”

“I know, I’m not seven feet tall. I’m six-three and that’s short for a player, but I did okay.”

“So you played ball and studied. That would keep you busy.”

“Had a part-time job too.”

“Wow. And then law school, right? Was that on scholarship too?”

“Yeah, but not athletic. That one was scholastic.”

“Wow again.”

He groaned loudly. “Okay, you don’t think of me as athletic, and you don’t think of me as bright. Just what do you see in me, Suzanne?”

“Mmm,” she purred. “I see lots in you, Jaxon. But I guess the first thing I saw was . . . Well, you have to remember it was a nude beach, and, well . . .” She paused suggestively. Now this was outrageous69 talking! This was what he’d been anticipating all day. His cock stirred with interest. “So you saw my big brown . . . eyes?”

She gave a splurt of laughter. “It was definitely big and definitely brown. . . .”

“Keep talking that way, woman, and you’ll make it even bigger.”

“Wish I could do it in person. But seeing as all we’ve got is the phone line, I guess I’ll just have to use . . . my . . . mouth.”

He imagined that mouth wrapped around him and his cock struggled to spring to attention inside boxer briefs that were designed for support, not a hard-on.

“I’m imagining your mouth, Suzanne. Such a lush, tantalizing mouth.” And now he wanted to envision the rest of her, as she was right now. “Where are you anyhow, and what are you wearing?”

“I’m lying on my bed, but you really don’t want to know what I’m wearing.”

“Clothes, huh?”

“Rumpled clothes I’ve been wearing all day.” Outrageous69

had disappeared again. “I’m so sorry,” she said, sounding exasperated. “This is just the opposite of what I’d intended for tonight. I was going to have a bath with some scented bath salts, then put on this little silk-and-lace camisole I bought and—”

“Do it.”

“What? You mean, do all that stuff, then phone you back?”

“No, don’t go. What I mean is, do it now. Do it with me.”

“O-oh.” Her voice was a long, slow sigh of understanding, sharpening into definite interest.

His cock was pretty damned interested too. “Is your phone a cordless?”

“It sure is.”

“Okay then. So, what would you like first? Maybe a glass of wine?”

“That sounds wonderful. I have some in the fridge.” He heard a squeak—bedsprings?—then she said, “I’m heading out to the kitchen.” A pause. “Jaxon? Will you join me? Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Sounds good.”

Abandoning the now-tepid beer, he left his bedroom, relieved Tod and Levi were still out. Now, was there any wine in the apartment? He found a bottle in the cupboard, unopened. Great. Whoever had bought it, he’d pay them back. “I have a shiraz cabernet from Beringer. How about you?”

“Pinot gris from Grey Monk. And there’s a bottle of ice wine Jenny gave me for my birthday. It should be awesome, but I think I’ll save it. For when we can do this in person.” Her voice lowered, and went more seductive. “Sure you can’t visit this weekend?”