Strange Bedpersons (6 page)

While he waited, he thought about Tess and all the ways she could screw up his life, particularly this weekend. The more he thought about Tess and her cheerful bluntness, the more tense he got. He closed his eyes and thought about calling the whole thing off, and then he thought about Tess and spending the weekend with Tess and—if he laid his plans carefully—spending the night with Tess.
The career comes first,
he reminded himself, but then he also reminded himself that man did not live by career alone. At least she’d be dressed well for the party, and as long as he never left her side maybe he could stop her from actually ruining his life, and besides, he wanted to be with her. He missed her. Okay, the weekend with Welch was probably not the best place to renew Tess’s acquaintance, but it was all he had. There was no point in obsessing over her unpredictability. That was the penalty for being with Tess. Tess would stop being spontaneous when she stopped being sloppy and late, and that would be never. Sometimes he thought that was one of the reasons he missed having her around—her chaos had been a sort of relief from his carefully mapped-out life. Not that there was anything wrong with a carefully mapped-out life. He’d spent twenty years weighing his every option and it had gotten him everything he’d ever wanted.

Except partner.

Well, he’d have that soon, too. If it took getting the Welch account, he’d get it, even if he had to bind and gag Tess to do it. And then he’d have everything he’d ever wanted.

And then what?

Nick considered his future.

He’d been thinking about Park’s father’s theory that unmarried men over thirty-five were pathetic. Park’s father was wrong, of course, but he might have a point if he changed the age limit to forty. That was two years away for Nick. It might actually be time to start thinking marriage. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t wanted to get married. He had. Eventually. When his career was in place. When he found the right woman.

But now he might make partner. And if he did, he’d need somebody to be a hostess, somebody to open the door of his house and welcome people in, somebody to call the caterers. It occurred to him that if Christine could develop some expression, it would probably be easiest just to upgrade her status to wife. God knew, she was undemanding and efficient. Unfortunately she was also Morticia Addams without the enthusiasm.

What he needed was a cross between Christine and Tess.

He thought about being married to Tess and grinned. Of course, she’d have to get different clothes, and he’d have to get his housekeeper to come every day to pick up after her, and she’d have to learn to shut up when it was politically necessary, but she’d also be around all the time, laughing, warming his life, warming his bed...

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?”

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.

“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.