The Love Laws (4 page)

She
gracefully slithered into a sitting position on the bed and raised her arms
over her head to make her chest jut out provocatively. She smiled when the pose
caused him to stop in his tracks and stare at her. “Maybe you should listen to
your advisor this time,” she said, raising herself up to her knees on the
mattress, she looked blatantly down at his crotch and then back up at him
meaningfully. “At least keep an open mind,” she said with a shrug that caused
her small breasts to jiggle prettily. “Maybe you’ll like what he comes up with.
I know I can think of a few interesting possibilities,” she said, while licking
her cherry-red lips and lifting her hair off her neck in a pretty good
imitation of a 1950s pin-up.

Kevin
loved women. He especially loved their bodies—all their curves and softness and
warmth. Some men demanded certain physical criteria for their partners—big
breasts, great legs, a shapely bottom…whatever. But Kevin felt they were all
gorgeous in some way. Kerry was no exception. She was a bit on the thin side,
but it still felt like turning away from her was a betrayal to his nature. Not
to mention stupid. What kind of guy said ‘no’ when a woman came on to him like
this anyway?

It
just wasn’t in him to reject women. He wanted to worship them, pleasure them,
appreciate them and make them realize how beautiful they were. Angering and
rejecting them was not what he was all about. But in this case, he knew he had
no choice.

“I
wish I could, but I gotta go,” he said with a smile, trying for casual
friendliness as he pulled on his dark blue, button-down shirt.

Kerry
flopped back on the bed and glared up at him as she crossed her arms over her
slender chest. “I can’t say I really care for being used and discarded like
this,” she said petulantly.

Kevin
groaned inwardly. She just couldn’t make this easy, could she?

“Listen,
Ker. I’m sorry, but last night was a mistake. You must know that. I drank too
much and things got out of hand.”

“A
mistake? Fucking me was a mistake?” She asked evenly, but her eyes were drilling
holes through him.

“Well,
yeah, kind of. I wasn’t thinking clearly.” Why did explanations always sounded
so lame exactly? Christ, why had she woken up? This would have been so much
easier if he could have just skulked out and sent her some flowers later. He
hated feeling like such a total weasel. Right then he promised himself that he would
never, ever indulge in a one-night stand again. They just weren’t worth it. And
he was just getting too damn old for this game.

“Seems
to me that you think entirely too much these days,” Kerry said, watching him
fasten the belt on his jeans with cool, assessing eyes. “You never had that
problem in high school. In fact, you weren’t thinking much at all the night
before my wedding when we went skinny dipping together, now were you?” Her
smile was meant to look nostalgic, but Kevin could hear the threat in her
voice. This wasn’t just a trip down memory lane. She actually thought that
ancient indiscretion had some power over him—ten years later.

Unfortunately,
it did. He couldn’t imagine his best friend caring about Kerry being unfaithful
at this point. Duncan was so in love with Jessie that his ex-wife could
probably post her sex life on the internet without provoking a jealous response
from him. But he would definitely question Kevin’s loyalty if he found out he’d
almost slept with Kerry just hours before their marriage ceremony. Kevin didn’t
think it would cost him Duncan’s friendship—they’d known each other too long
for that—but he really couldn’t bear the look of disappointment and disgust on
his friend’s face if he did find out. Kevin needed his support too much right
now if he was going to clean up his act.

Also,
somewhere at the back of his mind, he knew that Duncan told his wife
everything. And Jessie was incredibly close with her sister, Jamie. The last
thing he wanted was that fiery redhead finding out how badly behaved he’d been
in the past. Whatever small chance he had with her would be destroyed if she
knew. And that mattered. A lot.

Maybe
he had nothing to worry about. Duncan made a point of avoiding contact with
Kerry. Even if she did tell him it was unlikely he would believe her anyway.
She was a prolific and accomplished liar. It seemed to come naturally to her.
Unfortunately, Kevin wasn’t nearly as good at deception, but he decided to go
for the bluff anyway.

“That
was a long time ago,” he said casually, checking the pocket of his jeans for
his keys. “And besides, Dunc already knows.”

Kerry
began laughing. Not just a chuckle, but real peels of mirth that caused his
erection to wilt dramatically.

“You
are the worst liar,” she gasped after a few moments. She held her hand against
her breast as if to prevent her heart from leaping from her chest. “No wonder
you left the force. How on Earth do you even manage to write? Isn’t that lying
for a living?”

Kevin
was tempted to explain, once again, that he was a true crime writer, not a
fiction writer, but knew making that distinction to Kerry wouldn’t be worth the
effort.

“Listen,”
he said quietly when she stopped laughing and looked up at him expectantly.
“I’m sorry if you expected more from this, but you know I’m not the commitment
kind of guy.”

Kerry
looked like she would start laughing again, but restrained herself mightily.
“Commitment?” She nearly sputtered. “You thought I wanted a commitment? From
you?” Her eyes raked him from head to toe and then back again. “Kev, no woman
alive would want a commitment from a guy like you,” she said earnestly. “You’re
exactly what you’ve always been—a last fling or a one-night stand. Face it.
You’re doomed to being Mr. Right Now, never Mr. Right.”

Kevin
knew he shouldn’t care, but her words stung nonetheless. He was tempted to ask
why he wasn’t forever material, but didn’t really want to know the answer. He
was feeling shitty enough as it is without getting more psychoanalysis from a
psychopath with a grudge to settle.

“Then
why are you pissed off I’m leaving?” He asked as he leaned down to pick his
black leather jacket off the floor.

“I’m
not pissed off you’re leaving,” Kerry said, rolling her eyes at him. “I’m
pissed off because you would presume to leave me.” She pointed at herself. “I
was looking forward to sending you packing. Not the other way around. Don’t you
remember how you rejected me the night before the wedding? How you said ‘no’ at
the last possible second? Well, this was supposed to be payback for that.”

Kevin
shrugged into his coat and shook his head in disbelief. Could she really still
be angry about something for this long? Then systematically seek him out for
revenge? It seemed impossible, even for Kerry

 “You
have got to be kidding me. You boffed my brains out and that’s my punishment
for not sleeping with you ten years ago? Pretty twisted Kerry. Even for you.”
With that he walked away from her without looking back. A pillow just missed
his right shoulder as his fist closed around the doorknob, but he ignored it. And
her screech of anger.

Despite
everything he didn’t want to see her sitting there, alone, small, and enraged
at his words. Instead he walked out on both her and his past, and hopefully
toward a future without the doubts and fears that had plagued him recently.

Chapter Three

“So,
how do you see this playing out exactly?" Jamie asked, looking
speculatively at the tower of notes sitting in front of Cathy's huge hot
chocolate with extra whip and a muffin the size of a small dog. Jamie thought
she could actually see a pie chart mixed in with Cathy's scribbles. What
exactly had she gotten herself into?

They
had arranged to meet at a local coffee shop that evening to discuss some of the
details of "Cathy's Love Guru" story idea. Unfortunately, now that
they were here Cathy was having some trouble expressing herself without Clay as
a buffer between them.

Cathy
stabbed at her glasses with her finger again, and Jamie fought the impulse to
grab her hand and force it away from her face. Honestly, the girl's nervous
ticks were driving her crazy. Between stabbing at her glasses, darting glances
around the room, and shuffling through that giant stack of paper, the introverted
blonde had only mumbled a few words about the project. It was, without a doubt,
the most awkward cup of coffee Jamie had ever experienced in her life.

Today
Cathy was wearing what appeared to be a camouflage caftan. The floor-length,
shapeless dress was covered in a swirling mixture of olive and khaki green that
washed out her fair complexion and made her look like she might vomit at any
moment. Not that anyone would notice given the pattern of her ensemble. The
oddest thing about her outfit was the rather voluminous puffs exploding from
the shoulder seams. She had found or made a dress with actual shoulder pads,
circa 1984. Jamie would have been impressed at the find if she wasn’t quite so
horrified.

She
shook her head, took a surreptitious look at her watch and tried not to think
about the fact that Cathy looked like a cross between a green beret and an
eighties transvestite. The high-top Keds sticking out from beneath the hem of
her tent-like creation just completed her overall disastrous look. This girl
needed a complete style overhaul in the most desperate way. But how was she
going to introduce the idea without crushing Cathy’s delicate feelings?

Taking
a deep breath, Cathy squared her shoulders and looked Jamie in the eyes for the
first time in 10 minutes. This lasted at least 2 seconds before she shifted her
gaze downward and deflated like a limp balloon. "It's stupid. What was I
thinking to even suggest I could do this? We should just forget about it."
She gathered her notes and shifted in her seat to stand up.

Jamie
grabbed her hand before she could flee. "Cat, it's not stupid. You can
totally do this. I think it's a great idea and so does Clay. So, just relax and
tell me what you were thinking."

Cathy
sat back down, gingerly, and removed her clammy hand from Jamie's grip. She
took a sip from her hot chocolate to stall for a moment and set her pile of
papers back down on the table, arranging them carefully in a perfect rectangle.

Jamie's
lips twitched with a smile but she didn't comment on the white mustache of
whipped cream Cathy now sported along with her dead serious expression.

"Well,
um," Cathy said so quietly that Jessie had to lean in to hear her.
"It's really just in the early stages of development, but uh... I thought
you could just jot down some notes about where you think women go wrong when it
comes to attracting men, and then I would come up with some kind of related
task to demonstrate your theory. Then we could report the results." She
looked at Jamie expectantly, biting her lip as if expecting laughter or
downright hostility at her suggestion.

Jamie
kept her expression carefully neutral. She thought Cathy's idea sounded
positively boring. And was pretty sure it had been done before. What they
needed was something exciting. But how did she convey that without discouraging
Cathy entirely? "Can you give me an example?" She asked, nodding her
head enthusiastically.

"Oh.
Okay. Let's say one of your rules is, 'Men like women who don't wear makeup.'
Well, we could sit you in a bar somewhere and compare responses. See if you get
hit on more with or without makeup." Cathy smiled triumphantly at Jamie,
warming to her idea now that she was actually able to express it without fear
of reprisal.

Jamie
groaned inwardly. Is this the kind of advice Cathy thought she could provide?
Obviously, she had no idea about men. If Jamie sat alone in a bar, she would be
approached even if she wore a dead squirrel on her head, let alone a clown's
mask worth of makeup. Not because of the way she looked in particular, but
because men circled like great white sharks if they saw any attractive, young,
slim woman sitting alone at a bar. She'd be lucky to get out of there without
being offered money for some kind of deranged sexual act.

"That's
an interesting idea but don't you think it would be a conflict of interest if
I'm the test subject? I mean, obviously, I will try to skew the results to
support my hypothesis

"You
will?" Cathy looked at her with wide, shocked eyes.

Jamie
shrugged and then straightened the cuff on her cream silk blouse. "Well,
yeah. If the experiment was providing us with evidence that was contrary to my
advice then I think I would probably be tempted to alter the outcome."

"I
don't understand. How would you do that exactly?"

"Well,
let's look at your example. Pretend that I'm the test subject." Jamie
pointed to herself. "And let's say my advice was for women to stop wearing
makeup because men find them less approachable when they're plastered with
Revlon. Now if I want to support my theory then I would do what I could to
ensure that more men approach me when I’m cosmetic-free."

"How
would you do that exactly?" Cathy asked, clearly confused but very, very
interested.

"Well,
I would change my demeanor completely. I would act friendly and vivacious
without makeup, and cold and bored later on when we did the other half of the
experiment. There's a lot more to attracting men than applying blush. They
approach women who seem fun and relaxed. Not tense and hostile. Ultimately,
they want the easy target. Just like a hyena will seek out the weakest in the
herd, men will zero in on a woman who is open to flirtation. Looks are
secondary to the proper attitude."