The Company You Keep (27 page)

“Because someone probably is. My mother, to be exact. I’m not sure if you remember, but I think I told you I bought them a place next to mine? Anyway, she usually goes out on Friday nights with my aunt, so I’d hoped we’d miss her surveillance.” He guided her through the opening in the brick wall, and they walked down a brick path lined with low boxwoods. He unlocked the front door and held it open for her.

“Always the gentleman.” She stepped into the vestibule, which popped with a black-and-white marble floor. “Let me see. Perhaps I can guess what business you’re in?” She admired the dramatic diamond pattern.

“It was my housewarming gift from the company. My dad even insisted on laying the stone himself.” He laid his keys in a small ebony box on the side table. A gilt mirror reflected his face, but he didn’t seem to notice. He barely glanced at the large abstract painting on the facing wall before turning back to Mimi. “I let my mother decorate the place. I think it represents her idea of a masculine statement.”

Mimi peered into the living room. “I can see that. Lots of leather and dark wood paneling.”

“Not really my style, but it made her happy.”

“You’re a good son.”

Vic shrugged. “I try.”

Mimi startled when she heard a thump from the second floor. Then she heard the by now familiar clipping of nails. “Roxie? Is that you, girl?” She crossed to the stairway and rested her hand on the newel post. The dog waddled to the top of the stairs and stood there wagging her tail.

Vic joined Mimi. “Were you on my bed again? You know you’re not supposed to be.”

Roxie wagged harder.

Mimi turned to Vic. “How can you deny her anything when she greets you like that?”

He shook his head. “I’m convinced she practices that greeting when I’m not home to get it just right. Besides, if I always gave into her—like with how many treats she gets—she’d be a Butterball Turkey incapable of jumping up on my bed.” He looked up at the dog who remained at the top of the stairs. “You see? I only have your best interests at heart.”

Mimi turned to Vic. “Not to change the subject, but to change the subject—how come your mother was staring?”

“That’s what she does. She’s a very suspicious person.” He stepped back. “And speaking of subject changes, can I get you something to drink? Wine? Beer? Water?” He frowned. “Actually, I’m not sure I have any wine.”

“I’m fine, thanks.” Mimi was not going to be deterred. “Does she have a reason to be? Suspicious, I mean?”

“My mother was born suspicious. Actually, that’s not quite true. It was an acquired trait. She’s not a very happy person.”

“I suppose I should feel relieved. I don’t know why, but I was going to take it personally.”

“It was—kind of. She warned me about you.” He cocked his head to the side as if to gauge her reaction.

Mimi raised her eyebrows and clasped the banister tighter. “Anything in particular she didn’t like?” she asked. “My hair? My clothes? You’d be surprised the number of emails the network gets about my clothes.” She was suddenly feeling defensive despite the lightness to her tone.

“Who knows?”

Mimi leveled a glance at him. “C’mon. You can tell me.”

“Uh, all right.” He paused. “She doesn’t like your family.”

“She’s got good judgment.
I
don’t like my family—more like my father. Press’s mother, my nanny—and later first stepmother—was also pretty disgusting. But thankfully, she’s out of the picture and Noreen’s come along. But then that’s
my
take on the situation.” She raised her arm and placed a hand on Vic’s chest. “But pray tell, why exactly doesn’t
she
like my family?”

Vic stared down at her hand. A tiny muscle moved at the back of his jaw. “She says your father killed your mother.” He glanced up.

Mimi didn’t reply.

“But then people say a lot of things that aren’t true,” he added hastily.

Mimi gave a pat to his chest, then walked away. Rubbing her arms, she wandered toward the large wall of windows in the back of the living room. They looked out on a stone patio. A man-size grill stood in one corner. A glass-topped patio table and chairs occupied the center. It all looked very efficient, very angular. “Well, maybe she’s right there, too,” Mimi answered softly. “I mean, he didn’t physically open the bottle and hold the pills that she overdosed on. But he might as well have.” She kept staring outside. Rows of azaleas were planted in front of the walls, but the boxlike space still resembled a well-manicured prison.

Vic came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Let’s not talk about this.”

He pressed gently to turn her around, and she complied, giving him a sad smile.

She sighed. “Gladly.” Then she cocked one ear at the sound of Roxie mewing from the top of the stairs. “I think Roxie is trying to tell us something, but she refuses to come downstairs.”

“You’re right. It’s almost her bedtime, and she expects her cuddle upstairs. I’m afraid that despite my earlier protests, I spoil her rotten—or at least, that’s what the rest of my family says.”

Mimi smiled slyly. “You know, a girl could really fall for someone like you.”

“Any girl?”

“Well, if I had to hazard a guess, I’d say some girls in particular.”

“Anyone I know?”

“I tell you what. How about we oblige Roxie and go upstairs. That way you can show me your cuddling technique.”

He grinned. “You appreciate a good ear rub, then?”

“That’s not bad, but I can think of other places I’d like more.”

He slipped his hands from her shoulders to her back, massaging her lightly and drawing her near. “Such as?”

Mimi wet her lips. “My feet. I really like a good foot massage.”

Vic blinked. “Somehow that wouldn’t have been my guess.”

“I guess I’m unpredictable.”

He angled his face one way and then the other. “One of your more endearing qualities.” And then Vic did the unpredictable. He swooped her up in his arms, crossed the living room and the hallway, and began carrying her upstairs.

Mimi let her head fall back. “This is all very Rhett Butler of you. I’m not exactly a small person.” She laughed.

“Honey, I bench press women like you for breakfast.” He was almost to the top and not even panting.

“But it’s closer to dinnertime,” Mimi noted.

“Then I’m truly just getting started.” He reached the top landing.

Roxie got up and danced a four-pawed jig around his feet.

“Okay, girl, you can come into the bedroom—for five minutes tops. And then it’s private time,” Vic announced to the dog.

“You think she’ll understand?” Mimi asked, quite enjoying the feeling of a hunky male effortlessly transporting her down the short hallway.

“Trust me. She’ll get the message.” Vic kicked open the door to his bedroom and crossed the carpeting to the bed. He deposited her at the end, allowing her to sit with her legs hanging over the edge. He sat next to her, and Roxie trotted in to face them both. “Five minutes,” he warned again, pointing to his watch.

It was bizarre, but Mimi could have sworn that Roxie nodded. That was just
before
she jumped on the bed, somehow wiggling her way in between the two of them.

She gave Vic a slobbery kiss on the face, then did a twitch jump, sending Mimi falling backward. The dog landed with her front forelegs on Mimi’s collarbone and proceeded to nuzzle her cheek, kiss her chin, finally rolling over lengthwise between Mimi and Vic and exposing herself with no inhibitions.

Mimi laughed. “I can see why people have dogs to greet them when they come home.”

Vic leaned back and gave Roxie a good tummy rub. “You’re shameless, you know that?”

Roxie leaned her head toward Mimi.

“And you’re also incredibly disloyal,” Vic chided. “Who feeds you? Who walks you? Who takes you to the vet?”

At the last question, Roxie whined.

Mimi chuckled. “Maybe you should have omitted the vet part?” She gently ran her hand down the silky fur of the dog’s ear, mesmerized by its softness. “You’re some lucky dog, you know that?”

Roxie emitted a gurgling sigh, simultaneously moving a hind leg rapidly back and forth as if scratching her tummy. The movement caused her to brush up against Mimi.

“Hey, you’re tickling me,” she protested.

“I think you found her sweet spot,” Vic said with a catch in his voice.

Mimi looked over.

Vic was resting on an elbow and staring at her.

“What?” she asked. Then she noticed his eyes focusing downward and she craned her neck to see. “Oh, I see.” Roxie’s scratching had loosened up the self-tying belt on the dress. One side of the bodice hung open, exposing only her thin, flesh-colored camisole. “Oh,” she repeated again. Under his intense scrutiny, her nipple hardened into a tight point.

“Roxie, I think your five minutes of fame are up,” Vic commanded.

The dog tried wagging her tail. It flopped back and forth on the quilted bedcover.

Vic stared sternly.

Roxie went for batting her long, lush lashes—the ultimate in guilt-inducing-cuter-than-cute behavior.

“Roxie.” His voice became more disapproving.

The dog scrambled to her stomach, then hopped off the bed, stepping on Vic in the process.

“Oomph,” he exclaimed and grabbed just above his crotch. “That was close.”

Mimi watched the dog pad out of the room, then turned on her side to look at Vic. “Any commands for me?”

“Like you’d take commands.” He gently inched his index finger to open the top of her dress, revealing both breasts. “On the other hand, if you have some directives…” He lowered his head and rubbed his cheek against one breast through the silky material. Then he shifted the fabric and began feathering light kisses around the small mound, before using his tongue to lathe her nipple to a sharper peak.

Mimi caught her breath when he took it completely in his mouth and suckled deeply. When he moved to the other, she pressed her eyelids shut, absorbing the sensations. And when he finished, he straddled her body and shimmied up, his head even with hers. Feeling his cool breath on her face, she reluctantly opened her eyes.

“Nothing to say?” he asked playfully.

She swallowed. “I think you’re doing pretty well all on your own.”

“In that case.” Vic sat back on his haunches and slipped off his jacket and began methodically undoing his buttons.

Mimi saw that his pupils were dilated and her chest rose and sank as she watched him undress. He didn’t disappoint. Muscles contoured his chest and sculpted his arms. A smattering of brown hair formed a triangle, setting off his light brown nipples.

Vic moved for his belt, and Mimi reached up to help him. Together, their fingers fumbled with the button at the waistband. She pushed his hand aside, and lowered the zipper herself. “Bossy,” he exclaimed.

His erection jutted out against his boxers. She ran her hand up and down the length through the knit material. Then she looked up. “Are you complaining?”

“Hardly.” He pressed his hand atop hers before moving aside to kick off his shoes, trousers, socks and finally underwear.

Mimi swallowed as he came back to her completely naked. “You’re quite…ah…coordinated.”

“As a football player, I was particularly known for my hands and my timing.” He began to methodically strip the dress off her body.

Mimi raised her arms and wiggled out of her camisole. But when she lowered her hands to take off her bikini briefs he stopped her.

“Let me.” Slowly, tortuously, he slid them down her legs, slipping off her sandals as well when he reached her feet. Then he snaked back up and stopped with his hands on her hips. He used his thumbs to gently massage the juncture of her legs, the circular motions finding her most sensitive area.

Mimi gasped. “You’re right about your hands.”

“Well, that’s only the start of things.” He lowered his mouth to tease her intimately.

And after that, she forgot all about football.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

THE NEXT MORNING, Mimi sat on a stool in Vic’s kitchen munching a piece of toast with peanut butter and nursing a mug of strong black coffee. She crossed her bare legs and lazily swung one foot. She wore underpants and his blue Oxford cloth shirt, buttoned haphazardly.

Vic definitely thought that was two garments too many—especially as he watched her lick the peanut butter. He stifled a groan.

He ignored a nudge against his leg, right below the hem of the pair of gym shorts he’d slipped on.

The nudge came again.

Vic reluctantly tore his eyes away from Mimi and glanced down. Roxie. Who else? He reached for the jar of peanut butter and used a knife to scoop out a small amount. Then he got off the chair and plopped the dollop into Roxie’s stainless-steel dog dish.