Just About Sex (28 page)

Where did they go from here?

Why couldn’t he figure out what she’d done to him? When had his existence and happiness become so inextricably tied to hers? How had she gotten so powerful, so quickly? When would he ever feel like he was back in control of his life?

Did he…
love
her? Was
that
what he felt? This blinding, overpowering emotion that he’d never felt before and that scared him so much—was it
love?

More importantly, did she really love him? Or was that just the sex—the heat of the moment—talking? Could a beautiful, exciting woman like Simone—a woman who could have whatever man she batted her eyelashes at—actually prefer
him?
A stuttering computer geek?

Get real. Inconceivable.

And yet…he’d never have dreamt she was a virgin, either. Look how wrong he’d been about that. A ray of hope, as weak as early morning sunlight, appeared. He sure wanted to believe in it.

Simone turned back and glanced up at him, a shy, awkward smile on her lips. “It’s a pretty day.”

Was it? He glanced around and noticed the blue sky and gentle breeze for the first time. All was quiet on the sleepy street, except for a dark Toyota sedan that pulled up and parked in front of the house two doors down. Nodding, not trusting his voice, he shoved his hands in his jeans pockets, and tried to sort through a few more of his thoughts.

She
did
love him, didn’t she? A thirty-four-year-old virgin wouldn’t give herself to someone she didn’t love, would she? Should he ask her if she’d meant it? Would that be too needy? Wasn’t it an unspoken rule that you shouldn’t hold people to what they said in the heat of passion?

A little fidgety now, Simone hitched her tiny purse on her shoulder and ran a hand through her damp hair. “So…I’m going to work on my column for the rest of the day. Look through some files for work. Maybe run later.”

He nodded again, staring at her and wondering. Was this…could she possibly be the woman he’d spend the rest of his life with? Was this…his future wife?

The silence lengthened as the stunning possibility—or was it a probability?—nearly brought him to his knees.

She cleared her throat. “What about you?”

Alex jumped. What had she said? Something about how she’d spend her day? He blurted out the first thoughts that came to him. “M-me? Oh…I don’t know. I’ll probably stop by the office. A little cleaning around the house. That sort of thing.”

She blinked and smiled, her wide eyes a little brighter than before. “Well, I…” She looked to her car across the street, then back at him. Her smile slipped. “Will I see you later, or…” She trailed off.

This awkwardness after the intimacy of last night felt terrible, but he kept his hands firmly inside his pockets instead of reaching for her like he wanted to. If he touched her again, he wouldn’t let her go, and he needed to let her go, just for a little while. What he needed, more than anything else right now, was to go inside, by himself, and
think.

Would they live together? What if he proposed? It was too soon for that, wasn’t it? How did Simone feel about marriage? How did
he
feel about marriage? His mind spun in useless circles. He had to have a plan. Life only made sense when he analyzed it and put together a strategy. And he couldn’t figure out what he wanted to do about Simone if he spent any more time today inside her sweet, tight body.

He opened his mouth but the stutter trapped the words in his throat. Floundering miserably, he forced himself to speak. “I—I—I,” he began, but frustration made him stop. His fists clenched. “I—I n-need a little t-time. I—I’ll call you.” Ineloquent, but the best he could manage. He would call her later when he’d decompressed a little.

She smiled, but he noticed that same unnatural brightness in her eyes. “I’ll talk to you later, then.” Whirling, she trotted off toward her car.

He felt a moment’s relief that she hadn’t been upset, but then it occurred to him that maybe she thought he was blowing her off. Of course, she knew better than that.

Didn’t she?

Galvanized, he took two quick steps after her. “Simone.”

She paused by her car, and he knew she’d heard him, but then she opened the door and slid inside without answering.

“Simone!”

The car roared to life and raced off down the street.

Cursing, he wheeled around to go inside, get his own keys and follow her, but a voice stopped him.

“Mr. Greene? Alex?”

A woman leapt out of the Toyota and raced up the street toward him. When she turned up his walk, he recognized her as the reporter from the auction.

Tossing her dark brown hair out of her eyes, she smiled and extended her hand. “Remember me? Julia Pilchard from the—”

“
National Inquisitor,
I know,” he said grimly, watching Simone’s car turn the corner and disappear out of sight. “What do you want?”

A huge smile lit her face, as if it thrilled her no end to be recognized. “Well, we’re doing a story on your girlfriend, Simone Beaupre.”

Alex scowled. He could see where this was going, and he wanted no part of it. Well, he’d be polite, tell her
no comment,
and give her nothing usable. “Interesting. No comment.” He moved toward the door.

Julia followed. “Was that Simone just leaving?”

“No comment.”

“Did she spend the night?”

Alex’s hand froze on the doorknob and he turned to glare down at the woman. “Get off my porch.”

She smiled again, unaffected by his rudeness. “Simone had her date last night with Juan Romero,” she said sweetly.

“So?”

“So…one of the caterers saw her sitting on his lap. They looked pretty cozy. She’s a busy woman, isn’t she?”

Alex didn’t believe it. Not for one second did he believe Simone would canoodle with Romero and then make love with
him.
Even so, the very thought clouded his vision with red streaks of jealous anger.

“And,” she continued, “I just caught Juan on his cell phone. He sounded very happy. Said he had quite a time with Simone last night—”

“What?”

“—and she’s not at all frigid like that blog claimed.”

“You’re lying,” he snarled. “Or he is. Either way I want you to get out of here before I call the police.”

“So she
was
with you.”

Furious, flustered and crazed at the thought of how devastated Simone would be when she got wind of this further bad publicity and Romero’s lies, Alex spoke without thinking.

“You saw her with your own eyes, didn’t you?”

Even before he saw the triumphant smile cross Julia’s face, he knew he’d just made the worst mistake of his life.

At six-thirty that evening, thirty minutes after she’d been kicked out of the last store at the mall, Simone finally drove home and pulled into her space in the parking lot. Retail therapy was a silly way to pass the time and try to forget about her troubles, but it’d worked surprisingly well.

For most of the day, she’d managed to choke down the fear knotted in her throat while she looking at clothes, lingerie and other things she didn’t need. Now she had a lover who didn’t love her
and
four new pairs of sandals for the summer. What could be better?

Gathering her shopping bags out of the trunk, she let herself into the lobby of her building. Just inside the glass doors she froze, startled by the unusual sight that greeted her.

Alex and Pat sat on opposite ends of the leather sofa, arms crossed, staring daggers at each other. Simone had the feeling that with the slightest provocation, each would lunge for the other’s throat, fangs bared.

Pat saw her first and leapt to her feet. “Oh, thank goodness. There you are.” She rushed over and squeezed Simone’s arm, as if she needed to verify it actually was Simone and not an apparition. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you answer your phone? Did you get my messages?”

Simone’s gaze had locked with Alex’s and they stared, unsmiling, at each other. Alex’s look of open concern, mingled with his tight jaw, told her he was both upset and angry. Faint, cold feelings of dread shot up her spine.

“I’ve been shopping,” she told them.

Alex, his brows lowered, came to stand at Pat’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you answer your cell?”

Simone bristled. How dare he act like he cared where she’d been, when he’d practically kicked her out of his house earlier? She kept her voice cool. “I didn’t think to turn my phone on.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Pat muttered, smacking her forehead. “What do you have a cell phone for—”

“Will someone tell me what’s going on?” Simone asked.

Alex and Pat exchanged wary looks, united now in their obvious desire not to be the one that told Simone about whatever disaster had occurred.

Alex stepped forward and took Simone’s elbow. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Simone pulled free and pushed the elevator button, grateful for the excuse to move away from Alex’s touch. They rode in silence, while Simone’s sense of foreboding grew. Had someone died? Was that it? Was it Mama?

Inside her apartment, Simone tossed her shopping bags in a corner and her keys on the counter. Pat went straight to the drink cart, poured herself a scotch and gulped it down. Alex, who of course had never been there before, turned in a slow circle to get the lay of the land before he turned to Simone.

“Simone,” he said, “that reporter from the
National Inquisitor
came to see me this afternoon—”

“Oh, boo-hoo, why don’t you cut to the chase?” Pat snarled over her shoulder as she refilled her glass. She turned to Simone, ignoring Alex’s low warning growl. “Honey, that rag ran an online story about you today. It’s pretty bad.”

“Oh,” Simone said, oddly relieved nothing more terrible had happened, and wondering what could be worse than having a Web site dedicated to exposing her as a fraud.

“There’s more.” Pat glanced at Alex, who gave her a bracing look and nodded slightly. Pat sucked in a deep breath. “I’ve heard from
National Press.
They read the article and they’re turned off by all this negative publicity about you. Honey,” she touched Simone’s arm. “They’re not going to syndicate you. They chose the other columnist.”

“Oh,” Simone said again because she knew she needed to say something and couldn’t think of anything else.

Thoughts scrambled nonsensically through her mind. She’d be here in this awful apartment for Christmas again. Putting a bid on her dream house without the supplemental salary was impossible. So she’d have to lug a Christmas tree up on the elevator again.

But on the plus side, she’d have no grass to cut and wouldn’t need to get a lawn mower. She wouldn’t need to clean out her closets and pack up all her belongings for the movers. And she wouldn’t have to update her Web site as she’d planned. That could wait.

The pain of loss and disappointment hit her then, knifing through her chest and searing a path to her gut. Without thinking she clamped a hand to her belly and rubbed it, as if that could possibly help. Everything she’d worked so hard for—her greatest ambition and biggest opportunity—had gone up in smoke. Just like that.

“Simone.” Alex appeared at her side and hesitantly touched her hand. “I’m so sorry—”

“You should be sorry, you bastard!” Pat snarled. “This is all your fault anyway. If you hadn’t—”

Alex stiffened and opened his mouth to say something, but Simone held up a hand and they both froze.

“This article,” Simone said. “What did it say?”

“I’ll show you what it says.” Pat, bristling with righteous indignation, marched up the steps and across the bedroom to Simone’s desk. She tapped on the keyboard and then flourished a hand at the screen. “Here it is. Read it for yourself.”

Somehow Simone’s leaden feet carried her up to the computer, Alex trailing behind. She sank into her chair and read the headline:
Sex Columnist Dr. Simone: Overqualified for the Job?

Three pictures accompanied the piece. One of Simone from the auction, although she had no idea when it’d been taken, or by whom. It was a sexy, come-hither shot of Simone looking over her shoulder, a half smile on her lips. One of Alex, also from the auction, looking handsome in his tux. And one of Juan in uniform from his playing days, smiling, with his bat slung over his shoulder. The caption wondered:
A love triangle?

A horrified, hysterical giggle bubbled up from Simone’s throat, and she clamped a hand over her mouth to stop it. “Oh, no,” she whispered.

Pat rubbed her shoulder and murmured sympathetically while Simone read the article.

Beautiful Cincinnati sex therapist Simone Beaupre, better known as Dr. Simone to readers of her column, Just About Sex, is one busy woman! When she’s not in syndication talks to take her column nationwide, she’s auctioning dates to some of Ohio’s most eligible bachelors. Future Hall of Famer Juan Romero, formerly one of People magazine’s fifty most beautiful people, and Cincinnati attorney and hottie Alex Greene worked themselves into a lather competing with each other for a night with sexy Simone. At the charity auction, the two engaged in a bidding war, then nearly came to blows when Romero finally won the date—to the tune of twelve thousand dollars!

Lucky Romero, who’s been fending off allegations of steroid use ever since his former teammate, Willie Becker, published his tell-all book, got a night of scuba diving and dinner at the aquarium with Simone. “They had their heads together and were talking and laughing all night,” says a caterer who observed the happy couple. “They were obviously deeply in love and couldn’t keep their hands off each other. At one point she even sat on his lap and they cuddled. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear a wedding announcement very soon.” Romero, reached today, acknowledged the romance. “Simone is incredible. I’ve never met such a passionate woman. I’m very lucky man.”

But is there trouble on the horizon? Alex Greene is still very much in the picture, and confirmed that he spent the night with Simone as recently as last night. Simone herself is playing coy and did not return repeated phone calls for comment. Maybe she doesn’t want to blow a good thing with either man! Whoever she winds up with, we can be sure she’s well qualified to give us advice about sex and dating!