Commitment (12 page)

“I know that,” she said impatiently. “But I came here to spend time with him.”

“And evidently he would rather act a fool. So what’re you going to do about it? Curl up in a ball and mope? We have all of today and tonight. We can still have fun this weekend.”

“You’re right.” Riley rolled over onto her back and kicked her legs free of the covers. “I’ll be ready in a half hour.”

Tracy leaned over and smoothed her hair, just as she got up to head for the shower.

“Riley,
” she said. “Y
ou’re going to have to consider whether you might not be in over your head here.”

They rented a car and went to Griffith Park, the Hollywood Walk of Fame, and the L.A. Farmers Market where Riley picked up a couple of tchotkes and a t-shirt for Brian.

Just before sundown they ended up at Venice Beach
and
ate hot dogs while standing around watching bodybuilders flex and preen for out-of-towners.

Tracy kept up a steady stream of chatter, transparently trying to help her stave off the funk that she was barely holding at bay. They would be on a plane early tomorrow afternoon and back in New York in time to get a few hours in preparing for work on Monday. She tried not to think about the expanse of time that would follow, during which she would not see Shawn at all. She tossed the butt of her hot-dog bun onto the sand for the seagulls and watched the sun set.

Before heading back, they stopped at a sidewalk café and Riley people-watched while Tracy went inside to order their drinks. There was a warm breeze, making her feel sleepy and mellow. She wondered what Shawn was doing and whe
ther he was thinking about her.
Fi
ghting with him was so unfamiliar and uncomfortable she almost didn’t know
how
to be angry with him.
But over the last couple of months, there was no denying
that
something had changed
, and he at least, seemed to have no problem getting angry with her.

In her mind, Riley carried pictures of people who were important to her. Usually, there was one image, one that gave reason to how she felt about them. With her mother, it was of a Saturday afternoon when she was still a senior in high school. It had been a stressful time because Lorna was behind on a book deadline and up for tenure. But still, there was no trace of that strain as they sat together, mother and daughter, cross-legged on the floor of their living room, eating strawberries and cream, arguing good-naturedly about Nella Larsen’s tragic mulatto novellas.

With Tracy it was of the night in college when they’d both spotted
Riley’s
freshman year boyfriend kissing some other girl at an off-campus party. Tracy had held Riley’s head in her lap and stroked her hair, staying up with her all night while she cried like it was the end of the world. With Brian, the picture was of him playing soccer and looking over at her in the stands like a kid seeking his parents’ approval when he scored the winning goal.

But Shawn; with Shawn, the pictures she c
arried in her mind were numerous. I
t seemed as though every time she saw him, she added another. Like the look on his face when he opened the door to his suite yesterday afternoon. His face was so open and so joyful for just that split second; and her heart went ‘click’ – another image too precious to forget.

“Coffee for the morose lady in white,” Tracy said as she sat, sliding Riley’s cup toward her.

Riley smiled.
“I had a good time today, actually.”

Tracy nodded.
“I know. But not as good as it could have been.”

“Well, nothing is ever as good as it could have been,” Riley said.

Tracy sipped her tea.
“If I went around thinking like that, I would have killed myself a long time ago.”

It was almost
eight-thirty
when they straggled back to the hotel, carrying their spoils; Tracy walking barefoot, high-heeled sandals in hand.

“Now I feel comfortable saying that I
saw
L.A.,” she said, as they rode up on the elevator.

Riley looked
at her. “Thank you,” she said.
“For today.”

Tracy nudged her affectionately. “I know you would do the same for me.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Riley looked at her. “I know I wasn’t exactly the best company.”

“Let’s go out for a crazy-expensive dinner,” Tracy suggested.

Riley manufactured a smile. “Only if it’s at least four courses
and at least one of them involves chocolate
.”

“I’m sure we can manage that.”

The first thing Riley noticed when they got to the suite was the absence of a message light on the bedside phone. And her cell phone had remained reproachfully silent all afternoon. Shawn had allowed the entire day go by without trying to contact her, even though she’d flown six hours to see him.

Who did he think he
was
?

It wasn’t as though she didn’t have other options. She could just as easily have stayed in New York and had a perfectly pleasant, uncomplicated weekend with someone who was completely into her and didn’t have crazy-ass mood swings.

“I’ve got first on the shower,” she told Tracy, flinging her bags aside.

Riley adjusted the water so that it was as hot as she could stand it and washed her hair with the harsh, too-fragrant hotel shampoo. This trip had been a bad idea to begin with
. Whatever it
was
she had with Shawn
clearly
only survived on the island of Manhattan.
Tracy had been right all along – she and Shawn were completely wrong for each other
and this
could only end badly if they continued.

As it was, she was getting too attached. Watching him walk away from her in the club, she’d felt a
split second
of sheer panic, experiencing in that
moment
what it would be like when he walked away for good. And it was inevitable that he would. She was a phase with him, like many others before her, she was sure. They had
amazing chemistry
and for the moment, he couldn’t get enough of her but that kind of connection didn’t last
, especially not for guys in his business
. And when it was over,
really
over, she would  . . . she didn’t know what she would do. That was the problem. What she had with Brian was comfortable, so why mess that up?

So
this little spat with Shawn was a good thing, really.
Maybe s
he
wasn’t in so deep right now and could go back to New York and let it die a natural death. He would be on the West Coast for a long enough time for her to
get over him.

And then maybe things with Brian would develop the way they were supposed to. If she was honest with herself she would admit that they couldn’t move forward with Shawn in the picture. There was always part of her that was torn and held apart.

By the time her shower was done and she stood in front of the mirror putting on moisturizer, she almost felt good about her decision. So that was that. This thing
with Shawn had been
destined to end at some point, and now it would. On her terms.

Then she opened the bathroom door.

Shawn was sitting on her bed, wearing gray sweatpants and a white
t-shirt
with a red fitted baseball cap turned to the side.
In
an instant, all her resolutions dissolved.
He looked so ridiculously good it only
pissed her off all over again.

“Hey,” he said.

Riley stood stock still with the towel wrapped loosely about her. Tracy was standing silent nearby, obviously trying to read her expression.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, grateful that her voice didn’t quaver.

Shawn stood and advanced toward her, his gaze fixed on her face. With each step he took, she took corresponding steps backward until there was nowhere to go and her back was literally against the wall.

“I had a teacher in the seventh grade,” he said, leaning in so that his forehead was touching hers. “He used to say, ‘
manage your expectations and you’ll manage your emotions.’
I haven’t been managing either.”

“No, you haven’t,” she agreed.

“I’m sorry,” he said simply.

His kiss was feather-light at first, and then it deepened. Riley reached up and put her arms about him. When Shawn turned his head so that his mouth was instead on her neck, she reluctantly pushed him away, grabbing her towel just before it hit the floor. Over his shoulder Riley caught sight of the weary resignation on Tracy’s face.

“Is Brendan
around
for dinner?” she asked.

g

Shawn looked over at Riley, on her stomach, stretched naked across the bed at his feet
, her face resting on a pillow. She sighed.

“I’m hungry,” she said raising her head
suddenly
, as though she’d just identified the solution to a
long-
perplexing problem.

“Let’s order something
then
.” He reached for the menu in the side-table drawer and flipped it open.

“I feel awful about ditching Tracy,” she said. 

“She’s a’ight.
Brendan
wi
ll
take care of her.”

“Not sure I like the sound of that,” Riley murmured.

She reached for the remote, switching channels until she found the news
and
was suddenly absorbed by television, watching with one leg raised, swinging it back and forth. Shawn traced a finger along her calf and tugged the sheets so that she slid toward him and her left leg was resting against his. She turned to smile at him briefly over her shoulder and caught sight of the computer in the corner.

“What’s with the laptop?” she asked.

Shawn followed her gaze to where he’d propped it, still in the box. He’d forgotten all about his plans to look up Riley’s mother. When she was back in New York, he would revive that little project.

“I thought I should have one,” he said vaguely.

“That’s a pretty serious piece of hardware. Are you hacking into NASA or something?”

“You want it?” he asked.

Riley looked at him. “No I don’t want it. Will you stop?”

“Stop what?”

“Why do you keep thinking you have to give me stuff?”

“I don’t think I
have to
give you stuff. I
want
to give you stuff.”

“I don’t see the difference.” She sat up and took the menu from him.
“Anyway let’s
get this show on the road. I’m starving.”

They ordered lobster, sirloins, Cobb salad and chocolate cake with a bottle of cabernet sauvignon from room service, promising a substantial tip for express service.

While they waited they
got going
again, Shawn rolling over onto his back and pulling Riley along so that she was astride him. H
ands on her hips, h
e watched as she moved, eyes closed, lips slightly parted, and neck arched backward.
Watching her like this usually got him there quicker, but not this time.
She moaned quietly and
her breathing and movements quickened, and Shawn could feel deep inside her, as she pulsated, gripping and releasing him. He closed his e
yes and tried not to think,
until
finally
she
climaxed, collapsing on his chest, her head resting just beneath his chin.

“You okay?” she asked, her breathing still uneven. “You didn’t . . .”

“No,” he said.

“Well then let me help you with th
at.”

S
he smiled naughtily and raised herself off him sliding down, taking
him in her hands.
W
hile he’d watched her move, a
small, cynical part of
Shawn
had
wondered if she made the same noises and faces with Brian.
And j
ust
the idea that she’d done
to
Brian what she was about to do to him  . . .
Shawn
bit down hard on his lower lip to repel the thought which felt exactly like a knee to the gut.

None of the usual distractions worked to keep his mind off her when they were apart, but he’d grown accustomed to that long ago. Now he realized he couldn’t keep his mind off her even when they were together. Difference was, when he didn’t have to wonder where she was in the moment, he wondered instead about where she had been.

“Let’s get married,” he said
, just as
she lowered her head.