Night Monsters (2 page)

“Call me when your proposal’s ready,” Vincien said.

Wyatt nodded and hurried out of Brochere’s.

•     •     •

 “He’s not what you think.” Natalie was pleading in that tone she always used.

“Here we go again.” Wyatt sprang out of bed and began dressing. After meeting Vincien that night two months ago, Wyatt thought Natalie would never mention him again. At least not in bed.

Wyatt was amazed she’d called him afterward—other than to say so long. She shrugged it off, saying Vince was clever that way and, yes, he probably knew, but she didn’t think it bothered him. She said Vince genuinely liked Wyatt and hoped Ex Libris’ business with Symplex would succeed.

Wyatt found it hard to believe a man as powerful and sophisticated as Vincien Levesque would knowingly be cuckolded, allowing his gorgeous wife to sleep around. She said he let her do what she wanted so long as she managed his affairs.

“I have to take care of him,” she said, nearly pouting. That was her new catch-phrase about Vincien.

“He’s no invalid,” Wyatt said. “He likes hang-gliding. Does he have some disease?”

“No . . . no,” She tried pulling Wyatt’s clothes back off.

Wyatt moved away from her groping hands. “He doesn’t seem the type you wait on, cook him dinner, bring his slippers, that type.”

“Definitely not. And do I look like I cook?”

Wyatt didn’t answer. He buttoned his white oxford, slipped into his slacks. “Then what do you mean you have to take care of him?”

She looked momentarily forlorn, shrugged her milk-white shoulders. “He’s different. I just . . .”

“What? You never have sex.”

She arched her back, changing the subject, and Wyatt found himself taking off his clothes again.

•     •     •

Alone in bed that night, Wyatt sipped at an inch of Canadian Club and stared out the window at the clear night sky.

He wondered if he was a fool for continuing his relationship with Natalie. He truly liked her, but she talked about Vincien all the time. For some reason, she wouldn’t leave him.

Was it his money? His looks, his charm? Why would she stay with a man who didn’t satisfy her?

Wyatt couldn’t match Vincien’s savoir-faire, but he was just as successful, just as good looking. And man, could he perform.

Natalie had admitted there’d been other men, but said she wanted to keep Wyatt around. She said she loved him. He was beginning to think they were meant to be together.

He took another smoldering sip.

Since the rendezvous at Brochere’s, he had contacted Vincien numerous times concerning the Ex Libris project, and he detected no hostility, jealousy or ill will. Vincien really was a kind man, an understanding man, a good-natured man, and what frustrated Wyatt most was that Vincien actually liked him. Wyatt wanted to mock him, despise him, rub his nose in the fact he was bedding Natalie three nights a week. But he couldn’t.

Natalie was right: “If you meet him, I know you’ll like him.”

Well, he had, he did, and he hated himself for it.

The only way he could break free from this self-loathing was to end the relationship with Natalie. Inside, he whined like a little boy. Even if he called it quits with her, he would have to sabotage the Ex Libris project, pass it off to someone else, or quit his job.

Wyatt drained the glass, still feeling trapped.

Where did Vincien get his power of attraction? He was reasonable, well spoken, intelligent. He was witty, urbane, yet down to earth. And yes, he was graceful, handsome, sexy. That last one caught Wyatt off guard. He set the glass on the nightstand, snapped off the lamp and squirmed under the sheets, striving to pinpoint the answer.

Vincien Levesque was all those things, but none of them—nor their collection—explained his appeal.

Maybe Wyatt was looking at it the wrong way. Perhaps all of those attributes were emanations or expressions of Vince’s essential power. Because of this elementary endowment, he seemed reasonable, well spoken, intelligent; he seemed witty, urbane, down to earth; he seemed graceful, handsome, and yes, even sexy. Wyatt had fallen under his spell.

But for what purpose?

He rolled over. It was bad enough with Natalie in tryst, but here he was alone in bed, thinking about that damned Vincien. Disgusting.

After a while, Wyatt wandered off the path of his thoughts and dreamed of Vincien presenting Natalie to him, of Natalie smirking, then rolling her pink tongue over red, red lips.

The phone rang, and he jolted upright.

“Mm, hello?”

“Wyatt? Vincien. I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“Just lying here.”

“Say, I’d like to move the Ex Libris deal into production as soon as possible. Are you doing anything this weekend?”

“Nothing special planned.”
Except nailing your wife
.

“You can think about it for a day or two, but how about if we spend the weekend at Big Rock Lake? Just you and me. We could work on the project, watch the hang-gliders—”

“I’m no hang-glider.”

Vincien chuckled. “We can just watch. I want to finish going over the design specs so we can begin phase one development of Ex Libris Online.”

Wyatt rubbed his eyes. “I’ll think about it.”

“Could you let me know by Wednesday?”

“Wednesday? Sure, Vince.”

“Go back to sleep now.”

Wyatt cradled the phone and nestled back under the covers. Had he still been dreaming? The weekend alone with Vincien. . . . The situation was absurd.

Muttering complaints, Wyatt slid into slumber, envisioning Natalie in a dominatrix outfit, whip in hand, beckoning, beckoning.

•     •     •

Approaching the second hour in Vincien’s Acura, Wyatt’s dread had dissolved into a pulpy resignation. He’d debated whether to make the trip to Big Rock Lake and had asked Natalie what she thought her dear husband was up to.

“He wants to get going on Sex Libris Online.” Every possible chance, she fondly referred to Ex Libris by Wyatt’s Freudian slip. It irked him.

“You sure he’s not secretly plotting to lure me into the mountains and kill me in a freak hang-gliding accident?”

“Secretly? No. We planned it all out the other night. Want to see the PowerPoint presentation?” She smiled wickedly with those straight, white teeth of hers. “Give it a rest, Wyatt. Why are you always trying to pin some kind of underhanded motive on him? Can’t you tell? Vince likes you. He wants to get the project underway. You don’t have to go.”

Wyatt pouted, staring into the bath suds.

“
Wy
-att . . .” She drove her slender hand into the bubbles on an exploratory undersea diving mission.

He shivered and grabbed her arm. “Stop that. You’ve already exhausted me.”

“Aw, poor baby’s all tuckered out.” She made pouty lips, withdrew her hand, and massaged the clinging suds into his chest hair. “You should at least get away for a couple days to catch up on your rest.”

He narrowed his eyes as she went snorkeling. “Natalie, you’re going to kill me.”

She didn’t reply. She had just blown bubbles in the water.

Vincien’s pulling off the interstate curtailed his fantasy, and Wyatt was relieved to see the green sign at the end of the exit ramp: BIG ROCK LAKE, 15 MI. The smell of pines seeped into the coupe.

Vincien turned onto the two-lane road and asked, “Thinking about work?”

“No, just realizing I could use some rest.”

Vincien said, “I promise I won’t work you too hard this weekend. The cabin’s really the place to relax, get some fresh air. Let’s knock off tonight, wind down. Tomorrow morning, we can maybe go for a hike, watch the gliders. If we finish work in the afternoon, we’ll have the evening for dinner, whatever.”

Wyatt thought about it for a moment. His resignation was forming itself into something more appealing.

“Sounds great.” He offered Vincien a smile.

Vincien wet his lips, and his face worked subtly, as if he were carefully choosing his words.

“Something on your mind?”

Vincien laughed softly. “I was going to ask whether you had second thoughts about accepting my offer to spend the weekend up here.”

As the car penetrated the dusk, Wyatt watched the lines on the road emerge in the headlights and zip under the hood. He considered dismissing the query, but dared being frank.

“Truthfully, I didn’t know what to expect. I enjoy doing business with you, spending time with you, but I wasn’t sure what your motives were.”

 “I understand how you feel,” Vincien said. “You already know how much I want to complete the design specs. I thought it might be nice to get away from the everyday grind, get to know you better as a person, not just a business associate. Frankly, I weary spending all my time putting food on the table.”

Wyatt thought it dubious that Vincien and Natalie were struggling to make ends meet. Then again, maybe they did have financial pressures. The more you make, the more you spend.

“I hope I’m not bringing you here against your will.” For the first time, Vincien sounded insecure.

Maybe Vincien wasn’t as devious as Wyatt supposed. After all, Wyatt
was
having an affair with the man’s wife. How could he judge him for being crafty?

“Of course not,” Wyatt said. “I make my own decisions. I had my reservations, but if I didn’t want to come, I would’ve declined and made other arrangements to get our work done.”

Vincien seemed relieved. He smiled again, his eyes glistening in the dashboard’s glow. “I’m happy we’re being honest,” he said. “And I’m glad you decided to come. The cabin, the lake. . . . It’s a special place, and I think it’ll give you a new perspective on who I am.”

Vincien was, if nothing else, a reasonable guy. At all costs, Wyatt wanted to avoid any confrontation concerning Natalie. Yet he detected no ulterior motive Vincien might have in dragging him out to the sticks. Maybe joining Vince on a weekend getaway was a good idea after all.

Later at Big Rock Lake, they sat with their feet propped up, holding a couple of icy Grolsches that sweated in the heat from the fireplace. Wyatt took another deep swig and watched as reflected firelight danced over the Shaker settle between the two far windows. The cabin reminded him of his grandparents’ farmhouse.

The beer was kicking in, and so far their conversation was pleasant.

Vincien leaned forward. “I’ve been meaning to bring this up for some time now.”

Wyatt shifted in the recliner, suddenly feeling uneasy.

“The night we met at Brochere’s and Natalie dropped by, it seems I put you on the spot. I apologize for embarrassing you.”

Wyatt groped for the appropriate response. “No problem. I’d forgotten all about it.”
Liar
. Embarrassed again, he wondered how to steer the conversation to some other subject.

“My wife’s a beautiful woman,” Vincien said, “so I’m used to how men react when they set eyes on her. I only wish things were different.”

Wyatt knew he shouldn’t pursue it. He ought to let it go and say nothing. Except Vincien sounded concerned, and Wyatt didn’t want to snub him.

“What do you mean?”

Vincien sighed, looking worn as he stared into the fire. “I wish I could . . . satisfy her.”

Wyatt’s heart sank. Playing sexual counselor to his lover’s husband was the last thing he wanted to do. He was getting in too deep, but there seemed to be no turning back.

Wyatt said, “It looks like you and Natalie have a wonderful relationship.” He almost said,
She talks about you all the time
, but managed to curb his tongue.

“It’s not what it seems.”

“How so?”

Vincien smiled sadly, folding his hands over one knee. “Our relationship is—how can I say it? Platonic? Perhaps. More of a business alliance or partnership than a true marriage. It’s not how I wish it were, but with the way I am, it’s how we’ve fallen into things.”

Wyatt didn’t know how to respond.

“I’m not saying we don’t get along. We do. I know she wants more, but some things I just can’t provide. I have some special needs she’s willing to help fulfill. I guess it works out, but . . .”

“What’s wrong with that? If it works for you, why should you care you’re not like everybody else?”

Vincien stood and paced behind the chair. Turmoil brewed beneath his features; he clenched his long hands into fists. “Oh—I don’t know. It seems dishonest. I’ve deceived so many people. If they found out, they wouldn’t believe it, wouldn’t understand. I . . .”

It finally dawned on Wyatt what the problem was. No wonder Vincien hadn’t been jealous. It wasn’t impotence—

“I like you a great deal, Wyatt.”

Wyatt sat up, grasping his Grolsch.

Vincien moved between him and the fireplace. “Ever since Natalie told me about you.”

“You mean—”

“Yes. I know all about you and her.”

Wyatt hung his head. “I’m sorry, Vince.”

“Don’t be. Please.”

They were still for a moment, the only sounds being the creak of the dying fire and the tick of sleet on the dark pane windows.

Wyatt wondered how they would ever get any work done with this between them. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Wyatt. I just wanted you to know.”

Wyatt nodded, and Vincien retired for the night, leaving him staring into the smoldering embers.

•     •     •

The following morning was cold, spitting snow and sleet from a lowering sky. They both slept late, but Wyatt rose first. Shivering, he stacked logs on the grate and started a fire, then carried last night’s beer bottles into the kitchen. Vince’s was still full. Wyatt poured the beer down the drain.

“Morning.”

Wyatt turned to see Vincien planted in the doorway. In the tank-top undershirt, his shoulders were pale and muscular. His hands were balled in the pockets of his slate-colored sweatpants, which were cuffed at the ankles, revealing long, white feet.

“Good morning.” Wyatt tried to smile as Vincien went to the refrigerator.

“There’s some cranberry juice in here. Are you hungry?”

“I could eat,” Wyatt said.

“How about if I cook you breakfast?”

“That’d be terrific.”