Jennifer Crusie Bundle (31 page)

It was a thought with definite promise.

He heard the door slam downstairs, and then someone pounding up the three flights to Tess's floor, and then Tess herself surged into view, stopping in her tracks when she saw him.

She looked like a Gap ad, although he knew better than to tell her that. Her short red hair curled around her pale face, and her eyes were huge and placating as she smiled at him in apology. Her oversize navy T-shirt hung just to her hips over a navy cotton mini skirt, and she was wearing that god-awful baggy navy tweed jacket she loved. It was worn so thin that it fluttered as she walked toward him, but for once, he didn't care. He felt good just looking at her.

Suddenly the thought of a life with her had a lot more promise.

“I'm sorry,” she said when she reached him. “I really am.”

“Relax,” he said, keeping his arms folded so he wouldn't reach for her. “We've got time.”

Tess stopped and put her hands on her hips. “You said four at the latest.”

“That's because I knew you'd be late.” Nick looked at his Rolex. “But now we do have to get moving. Tell me you're packed.”

“I'm packed,” Tess said, giving up as she moved past him to unlock her door. “I can't believe you set me up like this.”

Nick picked up his suitcase and followed her into the apartment. “So what was it? No, let me guess. You were at the Foundation. Some kid needed help.”

Tess grinned at him. “All right. Big deal. You know me.”

“Remember that.” Nick looked around and sighed when he saw her bulging duffel on the couch. “I thought so. Give me that damn thing. I am not taking that to Kentucky.” Tess handed him the bag, and he frowned at her jacket. Her clothes were impossible. “Could we lose the jacket, too, just for the weekend?”

“Oh, don't be so snotty.” Tess smoothed her worn sleeve with love. “This is a great jacket. It's very practical and it never wears out. And it has memories.”

“Probably more than you do,” Nick said. “It's been around a lot longer than you have.” He dumped the duffel on Tess's rickety dining-room table and opened his suitcase beside it. Then he began transferring her clothes to his suitcase. “Of course, on you the jacket looks great, but anything looks great on you.”

“Save the snake oil.” Tess grinned at him. “I love this jacket. It's me. I'm wearing it.”

“Okay, fine. Whatever makes you happy.” Nick folded the last of her clothes into the suitcase and closed it. “Now, we're ready.”

“If you say so.” Tess shook her head. “But the duffel would have been a lot easier.”

“Not on my eyes.” Nick picked up the suitcase. “Not to mention my dignity.”

Tess's smile widened. “You have no dignity.”

“Not around you.” Nick grinned back at her, suddenly warmed by how alive she was just standing in front of him and suddenly damn glad to be with her. “This is why we should be together. You can save me from getting too stuffy.”

“Fine for you,” Tess folded her arms and looked at him with mock skepticism. “Who's going to save me?”

“I am,” Nick said. “Hell, woman, can't you recognize a hero when you've got one in your living room?”

“This would be you?” Tess lifted an eyebrow.

“This would be me. Picture me in armor. Better yet picture me out of armor making love to you.”

Tess blinked at him, and Nick's smile grew evil.

“No,” Tess said. “Don't be ridiculous.”

Nick shook his head. “Good thing for you I'm a patient man.”

“That's not necessarily good for me.”

“Okay, be that way. Could we get going here? I'd like to have at least a couple of hubcaps left for the ride home. Why are you still living in this dump, anyway? The crime rate around here must be out of control.”

“It is not.” Tess suddenly looked guilty enough to make Nick wonder if the crime rate really was bad enough to worry her. “And besides,” she plunged on, “if you didn't bring an overpriced car into a deprived neighborhood, you wouldn't have to worry about some kid heisting your hubcaps to even out the economic imbalance. So there.”

Nick felt his familiar Tess-annoyance rise again. “So you're saying that some delinquent is justified in stealing my hubcaps because he doesn't have as much money as I do?” Nick shifted the suitcase to his right hand to keep from strangling her. “Situational ethics, right?”

“I'm only saying—” Tess began, and then Nick remembered the weekend and held up his hand.

“Wait a minute,” he said. “We have to get through two days together. You look terrific, I look terrific, we like each other a lot when we're not arguing, and we have a strong sexual attraction that I, for one, think we should act on, so why don't we just agree not to mention politics until, oh, say, midnight on Sunday?”

“What sexual attraction? I don't feel any sexual attraction.” Tess looked away from him. “And I didn't say you looked terrific.”

“Well, I do, don't I?”

T
ESS LOOKED BACK
at him reluctantly, already knowing she was lost. He was beautiful, neatly pressed into a suit that evidently had no seams at all, every strand of his dark hair immaculately in place. Only his face betrayed any sign of human weakness, mainly because he was grinning at her. It was that grin that got her every time. The suit and the haircut belonged to Nick the lawyer, the yuppie materialist. Him, she could resist, no problem. But the grin belonged to Nick the guy who watched old movies with her and handed her tissues when she cried. It belonged to Nick the guy who did the worst Bogart imitation in the world and who knew it and did it anyway. It belonged to Nick the guy who'd gotten one of her students out of trouble with the police when he'd been caught vandalizing the school, and who'd then put the fear of God into the kid so he'd never pick up another can of spray paint again.

The grin kept telling her that the real Nick was trapped inside the designer-suited, I'm-making-partner-before-forty Nick. Maybe that was why she kept fantasizing, against her will, about getting that designer suit off him.

She surrendered and moved toward the door. “All right, you're terrific. I'm sorry I'm being bitchy. I'm nervous about this weekend. I don't want to let you down.”

“You won't,” Nick said.

Tess shook her head. “I'm not good at lying. Or at being submissive. And I think Norbert Welch is an obnoxious cynic who relieves his insecurities by deliberately annoying everyone with his smug novels. I probably shouldn't mention that this weekend, though.”

“Probably not,” Nick said. “But you probably will, anyway.” He sounded resigned, but not glum. In fact, he seemed pretty buoyant.

“You're really optimistic about this, aren't you?”

Tess said, smiling because he seemed so genuinely happy. “You really think this is going to work.”

“I'm just glad to be with you again. I missed you.”

Tess stopped smiling. “Oh.”

“I know.” Nick leaned against the wall, the suitcase dangling from one hand. “Don't say it. You've been doing perfectly well without me.”

“No, I've missed you, too,” Tess admitted. “I hate it, but I have.”

“I know you have,” Nick said. “I am amazed you admit it, though.”

“I'm trying to remember whether it was your confidence or your politics that annoyed me more,” Tess said.

“Forget that,” Nick said. “Concentrate on what drew you to me.”

Tess picked up the hanger that held her plastic-wrapped dress and walked past him to the door. “That would be your companionship, which gave me the ability to do my laundry in the basement without being mugged.”

“Resist all you want,” Nick said, following her out. “It's not going to do you any good. You're with the best, babe.”

He grinned when she snorted in mock disgust and locked the door behind them.

T
he ride to Kentucky in the late September afternoon was lovely, and Tess let her mind wander, lulled by the warm sunlight that was slowly changing to cool dusk outside her window. Nick's car, a black BMW, was too expensive and too ostentatious, but it rode like a dream, and she snuggled deeper into the seat, loving the comfort of the butter-soft leather.

“I love this car,” she said finally.

Nick looked at her in surprise. “Really? This grossly expensive symbol of conspicuous consumption? I don't believe it.”

“Well, it is that. But that doesn't mean it isn't sweet.” She turned her head to look at him. “I like being with you, too, you know. When you're like this. I could ride this way forever.”

“I knew you'd be putty in my hands,” Nick said. “Play your cards right, sweetheart, and I'll give you a ride home, too.”

“You do the worst Bogart in the world.”

“Yeah, but I'm getting better.”

“Yeah, but it's still the worst.”

Nick grinned over at her, and Tess felt her heart lurch a little.
Stop that,
she told herself.

“This idea you have of working at Decker is great,” Nick said, as he swung onto the bridge at the Ohio River. “It would be a good career move for you.”

“It's not a career move,” Tess said, craning her neck like a little kid to look out at the water. “I just need to support myself so I can work at the Foundation.”

“You know, I don't understand that,” Nick said. “Teaching is teaching. The only difference between the Foundation and Decker is that at Decker you'll get paid a decent salary and—here's a bonus—you won't get mugged.”

“No,” Tess said. “The difference is that the kids at the Foundation need me more than the kids at Decker. But they're all kids, so it'll be all right. I like kids.” She frowned down at the river. “I think I'd like to live on a houseboat.”

“And Decker is a big step up,” Nick went on. “If Sigler likes you, you could easily move into administration—”

“I'd die first,” Tess said. “How do houseboats work exactly? I mean, the plumbing.”

“—and with your brains and focus you could be running the place in a year,” Nick finished. “I think this is just what you needed to get your life together.”

“What?” Tess said. “Running what place?”

“You, in administration at Decker,” Nick repeated. “Great idea.”

Tess shook her head in disbelief. “Let me out of this car.”

“What?” Nick said, startled. “What's wrong now?”

“Listen to me, very carefully,” Tess said. “I do not want to run the Decker Academy. I want to teach at the Foundation where I make a difference. To do that, I will do almost anything, but I will not, under any circumstances, become an administrator and stand around in a suit. Suits make me itch. Is that clear?”

Nick shrugged. “Sure. It was just a thought.”

“You have terrible thoughts,” Tess said. “Keep them to yourself. Now about my houseboat…”

“You have a houseboat?” Nick said. “Since when do you have a houseboat? What are you talking about?”

“And they say communication is the foundation of a good marriage,” Tess said sadly. “We're doomed. Of course, I knew that. The apron was a big tip-off.”

“I don't get the apron thing, either,” Nick said. “Is this some Betty Crocker fantasy?”

“I was thinking about baking pie and then making love on the kitchen table.”

“You can bake pie?” Nick asked, incredulous.

“No,” Tess said. “I told you, it was a fantasy.”

“Right,” Nick said. “But you
can
make love on a kitchen table. I think that needs more discussion. Like later, in my kitchen.”

“I can make love in the front seat of a car, too,” Tess said. “Not that you'll ever know, Mr. Conservative.”

“Speaking of conservative,” Nick said, hastily changing the subject, “thanks for getting Park a date.”

“Oh,” Tess said innocently. “Did you talk to him? What did he say about her?”

“Nothing.” Nick cast a suspicious glance at her. “What did you do? Who is this woman?”

“Oh, don't worry,” Tess said. “This is a woman who can handle any situation. She'll be whatever Park needs her to be.” She stopped at the idea. “Within reason. Park wouldn't make a pass on a first date, would he?”

Nick's expression said
“Sure, he would”
but he said, “Of course not. Stop worrying.”

“Tell me about this partnership deal,” Tess said before he could ask any more questions, and Nick smiled and began to discuss the implications of getting his name on the door.

T
WO HOURS LATER
, dusk had settled over Kentucky, and they were at Welch's country place, a gem of a white house ringed by rolling hills and white fences and so many beautiful horses that Tess fully expected to see the young Liz Taylor sobbing into a mane at any minute.

“It looks like a movie set,” Tess said as Nick pulled the car into the long lane.

“The Long Hot Summer,”
Nick said. “Great movie.”

“With Welch as Will Varner?” Tess considered it. “Could work.”

“Sure,” Nick said. “And I'll do the Paul Newman part and you can do Joanne Woodward's.”

“That works,” Tess said. “As I recall, they didn't sleep together in that movie. Just a lot of sexual tension.”

“They were going to at the end,” Nick said. “They were in the bedroom, laughing.”

“They were getting married,” Tess pointed out.

Nick parked the car beside Park's at the end of the lane. “Could work.”

“What?”

Nick got out of the car and walked around to open her door, but she was already tripping out onto the gravel.

“I said, ‘Could work,”' Nick repeated as he caught her upright.

“Getting married? Us? Are you nuts?”

“Yes,” Nick said. “But it's situational madness. When I'm not around you, I'm a fully functioning adult. Don't worry. The urge will go away once I'm back in the city.”

“Well, until then, try not to make any other insane suggestions,” Tess said. “We're in public.”

She jerked on the hem of her jacket and started up the steps.

“You know—” Nick began, but then the door opened, and he shut up. Tess looked up to find an aging monolith in a severe suit waiting placidly before her, backlit by the light from the hall. He looked like a cross between Abraham Lincoln and Lurch of the Addams Family.

“Hi,” Tess said, holding out her hand. “I'm Tess Newhart.”

“How do you do, Miss Newhart,” the man said, nodding. “I am Henderson, Mr. Welch's manservant.” He stepped back from the door, and Tess dropped her hand and stepped through, prodded from behind by Nick and the suitcase.

“If you'll follow me,” Henderson said, “I will show you to your rooms. I hope you'll find your stay with us a most pleasant one.”

“Oh, me, too,” Tess said, and then winced as Nick bumped her with the suitcase to shut her up. “I didn't know people had manservants anymore,” Tess whispered to Nick as they followed Henderson up the
Gone with the Wind
staircase. “Where do you suppose he got him? Sears?”

“Don't start,” Nick said, and Tess laughed.

She laughed again once she was in her room and the door was shut behind her. The huge bedroom was papered in faded Early American blue and furnished in massive Early American walnut. The heavily carved bed was piled high with blue damask pillows that rose to within inches of a sampler that said “Idle Hands Are the Devil's Playground.”

Nick came through the connecting bathroom from his room to see what was so funny.

“Give the man credit for having a sense of humor.” Tess gestured to the sampler. “What a thing to hang over a bed.”

“You know,” Nick said, looking at her appraisingly, “I have idle hands.”

Tess frowned at him, mentally stomping on her traitorous thoughts about what those hands could do. “You have an idle mind. It's not the same thing.”

“Well, come here and occupy both.” Nick grinned at her, and Tess felt her breath catch. She backed up a step.

“I don't think so,” she said.

Nick jerked his head toward the sampler. “It's the only moral thing to do. You wouldn't want me to end up as the Devil's playground, would you?”

“As far as I'm concerned, you already are the Devil's playground,” Tess said. “I can't believe you're trying to seduce me with a sampler.”

“I just think the idea deserves some serious consideration.”

“Well, you'll have a lot of time to seriously consider it tonight,” Tess said. “In your own bedroom. Go away.”

T
HE BEFORE-DINNER PARTY
was in full but dignified swing when Nick ushered a black-creped Tess into Welch's tastefully male living room. The place was an ostentatious display of massive walnut furniture, coffee-colored leather, beige-striped walls and enough brass to outfit a band. Welch had decorated his house in money and leather and liquor cabinets and matched sets of never-opened calf-bound books, and then filled it with people with stiff upper lips who were dressed in clothes that were so well tailored they could probably stand without the people in them.

Tess felt herself stiffen and told herself to relax, shut up and make nice. It was only for two days, and she looked properly adult in her crepe dress, a dress that had been perfectly pressed by Henderson, who had appeared at her door to suggest that her clothes might have been mussed in the packing process. Henderson was so brilliant at this that he managed to make it sound as though the wrinkles were his fault, and Tess had handed over her dress because she couldn't bear to disappoint him by turning him down. Now he was quietly making sure that everyone found the buffet, had a full glass and wasn't lifting the silver. Watching Henderson might make up for the weekend, Tess thought as Nick led her across the lush carpet to the padded bar. It was so rare to see a man who simply took care of everything and then faded into the background. This must be why men liked having wives. Since she wasn't eligible for a wife, maybe someday she could have a Henderson. Maybe Nick would give her one for Christmas. It did seem mercenary of her, but she was prepared to share him with Gina. Gina would love having a Henderson.

Then she saw Gina standing at the bar, looking up at Park with her face glowing.

Not good.

“What's wrong?” Nick asked.

“Nothing,” Tess said. Park must have turned on the charm on the drive down. She watched him with Gina for a moment and then tried to make herself be fair. He was smiling down at Gina, laughing with her, paying absolutely rapt attention to her. No wonder she was glowing. Still, there was no point in Gina's getting involved with Park. Park made movie stars look stable.

“That's Gina,” Nick said, startled.

“Of course that's Gina,” Tess said, still annoyed with Park. “You told me to get Park a date.”

“I told you to get him a respectable date.”

“Hey.” Tess transferred her annoyance to Nick the lawyer. “That's my best friend you're trashing there. Back off.”

“I like Gina,” Nick said, and then looked back at the bar with a troubled face. “But frankly I don't think her grammar and her gum are up to this kind of party.”

“She will do fine,” Tess said coldly, and stomped toward the bar, enraged with Nick and with Park and with herself for getting Gina into this.

“Oh, great. Tess Trueheart in person,” Park said when they reached them. He looked at Nick. “I suppose you had to.”

Tess's temper flared. This was the jerk who had lured Nick into yuppiedom, and now he was making fun of her. All the antagonism she'd felt for her landlord and the Foundation trustees and Nick fused into her glare at Park. “Great to see you, Park,” she said. “Did I ever mention that your name sounds like low-income housing?”

“Tess,” Gina said weakly.

“Still the same tact, I see,” Park said, glaring back.

“Still the same tan, I see,” Tess said. “You know, studies have shown that excessive tanning—”

“Gina, you look terrific,” Nick said, kicking Tess smartly on the ankle.

“—can lead to skin cancer and premature aging,” Tess said, moving out of his reach. “Just wanted you to know.”

“Thank you,” Park said. “I'm touched.”

“Aw, Tess,” Gina said.

“Come on, Tess,” Nick muttered. “Play nice.”

“He started it,” Tess said.

“Oh, that's mature,” Nick said. “Could you please act like an adult?”