Jennifer Crusie Bundle (38 page)

“Oh, Tess, I don't know,” Elise said. “That was a long time ago, and we're all over everywhere by now.”

“All right. Start with the names you remember, and if you know where they are now, tell me.”

Half an hour later, Tess had seventeen names and three numbers and a promise from her mother to try harder to remember the manuscript. “Although I don't see why, dear,” her mother said. “It seems like a lot of trouble to go to for nostalgia. Especially when there are so many things that need fixing in the present. How did the censorship protest go?”

“Fine.” Tess briefly contemplated telling her mother about Welch's plagiarism and then discarded the thought. Elise and Daniel would immediately organize a public protest, and as much as she'd like to see it happen, she had to admit Nick had a point. They had nothing to go on yet but her memories. She needed more people who remembered the story. And she really needed the manuscript. Which meant calling everyone on Elise's list and asking them if they knew anyone, and then asking those anyones if they knew anyone…

Nick was going to have some phone bill.

“I'll write soon,” Elise was saying. “I want to send you some of Daniel's jam. It's really—”

“Oh, I've moved,” Tess said. “My apartment was robbed, and it was too dangerous to stay there. I'm rooming with a friend until I find another place, but you can send anything to this address and I'll get it.” Tess gave her mother the address and phone number. “I'll probably be here another week or two at least.”

“Is this your friend Gina?”

“No,” Tess said. “This is my friend Nick. The Republican. But it's okay. I'm not letting him corrupt me.”

“Ooh, yes. I remember your talking about him. Are you sleeping with him?”

“Yes,” Tess said.

“Is he good?”

Tess rolled her eyes, not really surprised. “Elise, that is no question to ask your daughter.”

“Of course it is,” Elise said. “Don't let conventional morality blind you to what's important in life. A satisfying sex life can be the foundation of a good relationship, and every mother wants her daughter in a good relationship.”

“With a Republican?”

“Well, that depends on the man, dear. I met some very enthusiastic Republicans in my youth.”

“I'm sure you did.”

“Is he any good?”

“The earth moves nightly,” Tess said.

“Well, then, I won't worry.”

Five minutes later, Tess extricated herself from her mother's distracted conversation and called Gina.

“Hey, where were you this morning?” Tess said when Gina picked up the phone. “I called twice.”

“I got it!” Gina said.

“Got what?”

“The job at the Charles Theater. And it's not a typing job. It's a good job. I'm a liaison! I didn't even know what that meant an hour ago, but Mr. Nordhausen explained it, and I'm going to be talking to people about the theater and making sure stuff gets done. It's wild! I've got a real job!”

“Gina, that's wonderful!” Tess sank onto the suede couch, oblivious to the furniture in her relief. “Let's celebrate. We'll go out and—”

“I can't,” Gina said, her voice growing even more effervescent. “Park's taking me out! I called him and told him and he was really happy, and he said we should go out and celebrate. We're even going out tomorrow, too, so I can tell him about my job after the first day!” Her voice dropped a notch. “I probably shouldn't have called him but—”

“You called Park already?”

“I know, I'm pushing it, but I wanted him to know,” Gina said. “We talked about it all weekend, and he told me what to do in the interview and what to wear and everything. I wanted him to know, and he was real happy and said we should go out. And we're going out!”

The happiness in Gina's voice was so blatant that Tess lost her breath.
Don't fall for him,
she thought, but all she said was, “That's wonderful, Gina. When do you start?”

“Tomorrow!” Gina said. “Can you believe it? Mr. Nordhausen was late at first because he'd been playing racquetball, and he came in all tired. I could tell he wasn't very keen on me at first, but then we started talking and I actually knew a lot of the theater people he kept mentioning, and by the end of the interview he said he wanted me to start right away—that I was just what the Charles Theater needed, after all.”

“After all?”

“Yeah, I thought that was strange, too, but what the hell, I got the job.” Gina's voice rose even higher. “I did the interview and he liked me and I
got
the job!”

Tess laughed at Gina's enthusiasm. “And you are going to be
great
at it. You're the best thing that ever happened to Nordstrom.”

“Nordhausen,” Gina said. “Hey, where are you? I called your apartment, but the phone company says your phone is dead.”

“My whole apartment is dead,” Tess said. “It got vandalized. I'm staying with Nick.”

“Oh,” Gina said. “How's Nick?”

“Nick's fine. The house is a little…well, I guess it's just not really my kind of house.”

“Don't tell me. Let me guess. It's too expensive and successful-looking. Come on, Tess. Enjoy it.”

“It's not that,” Tess said, looking around. “I think you have to see this place to understand. To start with, it's totally black and white.”

“No color?”

“None. I swear, I'm going to dig my old sofa pillows out of my duffel and put them on these couches just so I know I'm not color blind.” With a start she realized she was sitting on the couch and slid to the floor. “Not that I'm ever going to actually sit on the couches.”

“Why wouldn't you sit on the couches?”

“They're white suede.”

“You are kidding me.” Gina hooted with laughter. “This I gotta see. Okay, he's got suede couches. What else is wrong?”

“Well, nothing. I mean, he's darling to me, and he makes love like a god, and I'm safe and warm…” She looked around the icy splendor of Nick's living room. “Well, fairly warm.”

“You don't sound sure,” Gina said. “If he was the right guy, you'd be sure.” Her voice sounded sure, and that made Tess's heart sink.
Not Park,
she thought.
Please, not Park.

“So let's get serious about this,” Gina said. “I want you to be happy, too. What are you looking for in a man? And why hasn't Nick got it?”

Tess stopped to think. “Actually I'm not really looking, but if I was…” She smiled to herself a little wistfully. “Well, with the manuscript and everything I've been thinking a lot, and I guess I want somebody like Lanny.”

There was a long silence before Gina said, “Did you ever think that maybe not even Lanny would be Lanny today? Maybe he'd be Nick.”

“That's ridiculous,” Tess said. “Lanny would be…” What? She couldn't imagine Lanny in the nineties. He was permanently preserved in the golden sunlight of the sixties, like a fly in amber. “You know my life was a lot easier when everything was black and white,” she told Gina.

“Maybe that's why Nick decorates like you think,” Gina said. “Listen, I gotta go start getting ready. Park's not picking me up till late, he has to work or something, but I want to look spectacular!”

“You already look spectacular,” Tess said, but she felt numb as she listened to Gina's ecstatic goodbye.
Please don't let her get hurt,
she prayed, but she knew it was a forlorn hope.

A
t seven, Nick came home with Chinese takeout and Angela.

Tess ran downstairs to meet him when she heard the door open. “Gina got the job! And I made a lot of long-distance phone calls—” Tess began. Then she saw the cat.
“Angela?”

“I stopped by your apartment and there she was,” Nick said as she pulled the cat out of the deluxe carrier he'd bought for her. “Damnedest thing.”

“Right.” Tess hugged Angela to her. “How much did you give Stanley to find her?”

“Not that much,” Nick said. “I got Chinese. A double order of pot stickers.”

“I'm crazy about you,” Tess said.

Nick blinked, looking surprised and pleased. “Yeah?”

Tess buried her face in Angela's fur. “Yeah.”

“Good. Hold that thought.” He looked down at her clothes. “You know, I really hate those sweats.”

“Don't start,” Tess said. “I'm feeling affectionate.”

“What sweats?” Nick kissed her, and she leaned against him until Angela showed her disapproval with her claws. “Lose the cat,” Nick said, and moved into the dining area. He dumped the bags on the table and started taking out cartons. “That's great about Gina. Now, what was that about phone calls?”

Tess trailed after him. “I've started looking for Lanny and the manuscript. So far, I've got nothing, but I've got a couple of hot leads for tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Nick was obviously not enthused, but he didn't push the point. “Is there anything I can do to help? Christine can make some of those calls for you, if you'd like.”

Tess dropped into a chair and pulled a carton toward her. “Who's Christine?”

“My secretary.” Nick grinned. “Hell of a woman, Christine.”

Tess stopped, her fork frozen in midair as she scooped pepper steak from the box. “Is she?” she asked coolly.

Nick's grin widened. “You're jealous.” He collapsed into the chair across from Tess, beaming. “My life is now complete. Pass the pepper steak. I'm a happy man.”

“I'm not jealous,” Tess said stiffly. Then she put down her fork and slumped back in her chair and grinned back at him. “Yes, I am,” she said. “All right, if I'm going to be a jealous bitch, I'm going to do it right. Tell me everything about her, and I'm warning you, she'd better be eighty-eight and ugly.”

“She's a brunette, about thirty, and she's very good-looking.” Nick stopped to consider what he'd just said. “She's just not very…human. She's like one of those models in the magazines, the ones who look as if they're having an out-of-body experience. Sort of…blank but still conscious.” He shook his head. “She really is good-looking if you can get past the blank part. Park's been trying to date her since I hired her three years ago.”

Tess thought of Gina and her grin evaporated. “Is he still trying?”

“I suppose so.” Nick was so busy with the rice that he didn't see her frown. “It's not going to do him any good. Christine does not date her bosses.”

“And how did you find this out?” Tess asked, torn between protecting Gina and killing Nick.

“I asked her out,” Nick said. He scooped up some rice and then paused with the fork halfway to his mouth as he caught her glare. “Three years ago,” he added. “I asked her out three years ago right after I hired her. I didn't even know you then.” When Tess's scowl didn't fade, he put down his fork and addressed her with great patience. “That was three years ago, Tess. And now I think of her as a sister. An extremely attractive, extremely efficient, extremely distant, extremely platonic sister.” He picked up his fork again. “This jealousy thing is a real ego trip for me, but don't overdo it.”

“Do you ever get jealous of me?”

“No,” Nick said. “You are the straightest person I know. You'd never cheat on me.” He went back to his pepper steak.

“What about people from my past?” Tess asked him.

“Like who?”

“Like Lanny.”

Nick choked on his rice and steak, and Tess handed him a paper napkin. “Lanny?” he said when he recovered. “I thought you said—”

“Gina and I were talking and I started thinking I might be using him as a sort of…ideal,” Tess said. “She made me think that might be why I'm so hard on you all the time. Because you're not Lanny.”

Nick pushed his food away.

“Don't stop eating,” Tess said. “It's just a dumb theory.”

“This Lanny. He was a big guy with brown hair and a brown beard and Abraham Lincoln ears, right?”

“Right. How did you know about the ears? I'd almost forgotten that.” She leaned forward. “Did you find a picture?”

“No,” Nick said. “I guessed.”

“You did not.” Tess pushed her own food away. “You did not guess big ears. You—”

“I guessed that because every one of those losers you've dated since I've known you has been a big guy with brown hair and big ears,” Nick said. “I used to wonder where the hell you found them. I had one theory that they were cousins.”

Tess's mouth dropped open. “My God. You're right.”

“Two of them had beards.” Nick pulled his food back in front of him. “So what does this tell us?”

“That I'm living in the past?”

“Maybe if I grew a beard…” Nick said.

“No,” Tess said. “I don't want you to be Lanny. I love…the way you look.”

Nick's head had jerked up on “I love,” and he watched her for a moment before he said slowly, “All right. No beard.”

“I've been thinking. I'm sorry if I was…a burden this weekend.”

“You know that stuff you told me about how I turn into Dr. Jekyll and you hate it?” Nick said.

“Yes.”

“Well, sometimes you turn into Crusader Rabbit and I hate it. But sooner or later, you're Tess again, so I just wait. Your dinner's getting cold. Eat.”

Tess began to poke through the cartons, feeling ridiculously relieved about nothing in particular. “So where are the pot stickers?”

“You only get half, so don't even think about pigging out on them,” Nick said, but he slid the carton across the gleaming ebony table anyway.

Tess watched him over the top of the carton as she fished out one of the dumplings. His shirtsleeves were rolled up and the muscles in his forearms flexed as he scooped out rice and beef, and that lock of hair fell in his eyes again. For once she was positive he didn't know about it. She ate slowly, listening to his voice as he talked about his day, automatically answering his questions about the phone calls she'd made and watching every relaxed move he made. This was Nick at home, shoes off, being completely himself, scarfing down Chinese food at the speed of light.

He was the sexiest thing she'd ever seen.

“I'll be right back,” she said when the last of the pot stickers was gone. She went upstairs to the bedroom to get a condom out of his night table. Then she went back downstairs and seduced him on the dining-room table with remarkably little protest from him, although he did point out later that it was a damn good thing he had expensive tastes in furniture or they'd have ended up on the floor with some serious splinters.

“I know, I know,” Tess said, curled warm against him on the table. “You'd rather be in a bed.”

“Oh, I don't know.” Nick reached over her to get a carton that had toppled onto a chair earlier in the proceedings. His body was hot against hers still, and she snuggled into him reflexively. He balanced the carton on her shoulder and fished out a fortune cookie. “At least this way, I don't have to go downstairs for the after-sex munchies.” He offered her the cookie.

Tess took it and broke it open. The fortune read, “You are beginning a new journey.”

“Well, that's true enough,” she said, and rested her cheek against his shoulder as he broke his open next to her ear. “What does yours say?”

“People who make love on dining-room tables screw up their knees,” Nick read.

“That's not right.”

“The hell it isn't,” Nick said. “I may never walk again. I was already wiped out from throwing three games of racquetball.”

“Racquetball?” Tess said.

“Don't ask, it was awful.” Nick sat up on the table and rubbed his knee. “If you're really set on this table business, I'm going to send Christine out for knee pads.”

“Forget Christine,” Tess said, and pulled him back down to her.

The fortune cookies ended up on the floor this time.

“C
HRISTINE
?” N
ICK SAID
into the intercom the next morning. “Come here. Your master calls.”

Christine appeared in front of him, staring into space, probably planning a coup somewhere. He just hoped it wasn't at Patterson and Patterson.

“Christine, I have a lunch date today with Mr. Patterson,” Nick began.

“I know. I made it.”

“So I won't be able to take care of a little problem I have,” Nick went on, smiling at her benevolently. “And I thought that since you did so well on the dress problem—”

“I get the afternoon off,” Christine said.

“Done.” Nick handed her a bag. “Replace these. Spare no expense. Then burn them.”

Christine pulled a bleach-stained green sweatshirt out of the bag. “This is Tess's?”

“Yes. But not for long. Get rid of it.”

“This is a mistake,” Christine said.

Nick blinked. “You're disagreeing with me? You have an opinion?” He looked interested. “Christine, this isn't like you. Thank you for the input.” His eyes dropped back down to his desk as he opened a folder. “Now, butt out.”

Christine dropped the bag on the desk with a plop, and Nick looked up, startled.

“I like you,” Christine said with no expression whatsoever. “You're a good employer. You're simple, you're efficient, you're professional, and you're easy to manage.”

“Simple?” Nick said, offended. “Simple, how?”

“Uncomplicated,” Christine said. “Because of this I'm giving you some good advice, although it's my policy not to interfere in your personal life.”

“Good policy,” Nick said, but Christine kept on talking as if he wasn't there.

“Do not interfere with this woman's wardrobe,” she said. “Clothes are important to women. She will resent it.”

“Not Tess,” Nick said. “Tess is incapable of carrying a grudge. Her attention span isn't that long. And she doesn't give a damn about her clothes. Replace the sweats and then burn them.” He shoved the bag back over to her and turned to the work on his desk.

Christine picked up the bag. “This is a bad move.”

“They're just sweats.” Nick looked up again, annoyed, but she had already gone, doing her usual silent fade. “And get yourself some tap shoes while you're out,” he called after her. “You're really giving me the creeps lately.”

“Nicholas?”

Park's father appeared in the doorway. Tall and distinguished, with a patrician nose and a full head of gray hair, Kent Patterson looked like the perfect lawyer: wise, benevolent and just.

It was unfortunate that in reality he was a mindless, society-obsessed twit, but Nick had learned to deal with it.

“Kent!” Nick came around the desk to shake his hand. “I didn't think I'd see you until lunch, sir.”

“Well, I'm afraid I'm going to have to cancel that, son,” Kent said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Norbert Welch called me. Wants to talk contracts. Speaks highly of you. Good job there, Nicholas.”

Nick felt his knees grow weak. “We got the account?”

“Not yet,” Kent said. “But I'll be clinching that at lunch. Leave it to me.”

Nick felt his knees come back. If Kent was in charge, they'd never see the account again. “Maybe I should join you, sir.”

“Nonsense,” Kent said. “You leave this in the hands of the master.”

Well, I'm trying to,
Nick thought.
But you won't let me
.

“You're free for dinner tomorrow, aren't you?” Kent asked.

“Of course,” Nick said automatically.

“Well, that's good, because Melisande and I want to meet your fiancée.”

“My what?” Nick said, appalled.

“Norbert told me all about her.” Kent feigned a punch at Nick's shoulder. “You old dog. Kept her under wraps, haven't you?”

“Well, actually, sir—”

“Tomorrow at The Levee. Eightish. Just Melisande and I and Park and whoever he's dating at the moment—” Kent rolled his eyes derisively. “—and you and your…Bess, is it?”