What a Man's Gotta Do (13 page)

Until tonight.

She looked at her son again. Then down the hall, where a mountain of invoices and tax forms awaited her attention. Then up at the ceiling, where, in the apartment just on the other side of that ceiling, the bad boy of her dreams awaited her attention, too.

Maybe.

Oh, God.

 

It was nearly ten. Eddie had turned out all his lights, except for one living room lamp, and was just getting ready to close up for the night when he felt the house's faint shudder from the front door being opened. He twisted open the miniblinds just enough to see Mala, all wrapped up in one of her long sweaters, make her way down to the gate, the pup bouncing
along beside her. She opened the gate and went out onto the sidewalk, twisting around to look up at the still lit Christmas lights while the dog did his thing. A few seconds later, she called to the dog, retraced her steps. Then he heard the door shut, saw the yard plunge into darkness.

A minute later, he heard her footsteps on the outside staircase.

His heart stopped, only to start booming like a kettledrum while he waited. Finally, after about ten years, he heard her tentative knock on the door.

Since he'd moved in, Mala had never, not once, come up to his apartment.

He opened the door. “Hey—”

“This will just take a minute. I can't leave the kids,” she said, her voice rattling with cold. Now, Mala Koleski was not a small woman, by any means. Yet, standing there on the landing outside his door, she looked about as frail and fragile as a body could look.

So Eddie leaned against the door frame, his arms crossed, figuring if she wasn't going to freeze, neither would he. She took a deep breath, swept her hair away from her face. “Okay, I'm here for two reasons. The first one is, to tell you yeah, something kind of did happen today, and I do need to talk to someone, but I can't lay this on my family because…well, I just can't.”

“So I win.”

“Aren't you thrilled?”

Eddie reached inside, grabbed his jacket from off the back of a chair, handed it to her. “I won't be if you turn into an ice sculpture. Put this on.”

She stared at the jacket for a second or two, apparently decided it wouldn't change the course of her life to just do what he asked, then said, “I thought I saw my husband today.”

Eddie felt his brow pucker. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Only it turned out, it wasn't him. But…” Her hand drifted to her throat as she glanced away for a second, then looked back at him. “But seeing him—or thinking I saw him—apparently rattled loose some things I thought I'd handled.”

“About his cheating on you?”

She rubbed her arms, hitched one shoulder. “That was the least of it.”

“And what does that mean?”

But she'd gone someplace inside herself for a moment. “The funny thing was, he never raised his voice. Never seemed to get angry.” She looked up, her brow knotted. “I…I wasn't even aware of what was happening, why I was questioning everything I was doing, even stupid little things like whether I was buying the right toilet paper. The cheating might have been the last straw, but it was his reaction when I told him to get out that finally opened my eyes, made me realize what kind of man I'd married.”

“Let me guess. He told you it was your fault.”

A sardonic smile pulled at her mouth. “Bingo. And unfortunately, he'd done his job so well over the four years of our marriage, I believed him.”

Eddie felt something cold and malevolent snake through his veins. “And your next sentence better have something to do with your knowing that's not true.”

Mala nodded, then let out her breath in a frosted cloud. “I know that. Now. But that's not what still bugs me.” She backed up to lean against the railing, her arms crossed. “What still bothers me is how I could date a man for almost two years, and be so naive, and so blind, I never saw the signs.”

“You ever stop to think maybe there weren't any?”

She glanced up at him, then away, shaking her head. “There had to be,” she said softly, sadly. “But I was so…I don't know. Relieved, I guess, that I'd finally found somebody, somebody who didn't mind that I was smart, that I wasn't a cute little thing…I don't know,” she said again. “Oh,
God,
Eddie—I wanted to make my marriage work. Like my parents have. Like my grandparents did. But I failed.”

Eddie swore. Mala looked at him, amused. “Nice language.”

“And there's a lot more where that came from. Dammit, Mala—the guy puts you down for four years, cheats on you,
has never contacted you or the kids since your divorce, and
you
failed?”

“I picked him, didn't I?”

Eddie forked a hand through his hair, jammed his hands on his hips. “How do you figure it's your fault your ex was a horse's ass?”

“I don't. But the judgment call was mine. And it hit me tonight that Scott was only one in a long line of bozos, which would seem to indicate that I have a true knack for being attracted to men who couldn't be worse for me.” She looked him dead in the eye. “And that includes you.”

Well, shoot—what was he supposed to say to that? He
was
bad for her. But he'd never be bad
to
her. A difference he felt obligated to point out.

“I know that,” she said, looking up at him, her expression all sweet and earnest and explosively dangerous. “I really do. And I'm by no means comparing you with Scott. He was rat poison. You're…you're more like chocolate praline cheesecake. Both of you are deadly, but at least I'd die happy with the cheesecake. Which leads me to…” She paused, sucked in a breath. “…the second reason I'm here. I, uh…oh, God.”

He thought maybe she blushed, but he couldn't quite tell in the low light. “Okay, I can do this.” Another deep breath, a nervous laugh. “You know what you said earlier, about my never doing anything just for me? Well…much as I hate to admit it, you were right about that, too. Which is why I'm about to ask a favor of you. It's kind of a ‘book club' favor—you know, where you buy four books at the special introductory price with no obligation to buy anything else, ever?”

“Mala…you just lost me—”

“Eddie, don't stop me now or I'll never get this out.”

He held up his hands in surrender. She crossed her arms, took one last breath, then said, “How does the idea of an affair grab you?”

H
e froze. Mala wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not.

Oh, Lord, she was shaking so hard, she was going to lose ten pounds before he got around to answering.

“You don't mean that,” he finally said.

“Oh, b-believe me, I do. If you're still as interested as you were a few weeks ag-go.”

He rammed that hand through his hair again, squinted at her. Let out a sharp sigh. “Interest has nothing to do with this.”

“So you are?”

“I'd be lying if I said no.”

“So what's the problem?”

“Look at you. You're trembling worse than that pup did when I first brought him here.”

“It's c-cold.”

She might feel better about this if she didn't have to look at him because everybody always said she couldn't lie worth diddly because it always showed on her face.

Eddie sighed. “Mala, honey, it's not that I'm not real flattered—not to mention tempted—but where the devil is this coming from? I thought we agreed—”

“—not to get involved. Yes, we did. But that's the beauty of this.”

He looked at her for a long second, then said, “I think I need to sit down,” so he came outside and sat, then reached up and grabbed her hand, yanking her down beside him. “Okay,” he said on a stream of frosted air, “you wanna explain what this is all about?”

Any other time, she might have found his confusion endearing. As it was, she was just getting irritated that she had to justify herself when she knew damn well what she was offering was a dream come true. For most men, anyway.

“What this is all about, is that I hadn't given a moment's thought to having sex until you waltzed back into my life.” She stared at her hands, knotted on her knees. “Now I can't think of anything else. I thought, when you walked out of the apartment three weeks ago, that I'd cool down, get over it.” She looked at him. “I didn't. And then, with everything that's been going on…” The thought drifted off, unfinished. “You want to know what Mala wants? You. In my bed. Or yours, I'm not picky.”

There. That wasn't so hard, was it?

After a minute, he looked away, his brow creased. “I don't want to hurt you, Mala. And I can't see any way around it, if we do what you're suggestin'.”

“But don't you see? If I
know
you're going to walk out of my life, how can I get hurt? I mean, this is a first for me, to peek ahead at the end of the book so I already know how it turns out. Sooo, no nasty surprises waiting to clunk me on the head.”

He gave her a strange, but understandable, look. Then averted his gaze again. “Don't take this the wrong way, but you're off your rocker.”

“Hey, buster, you have nobody to blame but yourself for this one.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you,” she said patiently, as if to a small child. “It's very simple. I'm never getting married again.
You're
never getting married again. You're not going to stay, I don't want to
even have to think about the future. I don't want to think, period. Or worry or wonder about what might come of the affair. I just want sex. Sex with someone I like and I think I can trust. But nothing more. I want you to do for me what those lights do for this tired old house—bring a little sparkle to my existence and make me forget, from time to time, about everything except the sex. And if that sounds selfish and unladylike, well, tough beans. And how come you haven't interrupted me yet?”

“Because I'm gonna be really ticked off if I wake up and discover this is all a dream.”

“So you think it's a good idea?”

“Hell, no. I think it's the dumbest idea I've ever heard.” He scrubbed one palm over his jaw, then folded his hands together between his knees.

She waited, heart thudding away, while he sighed and rubbed his face and sighed some more and shook his head and finally said, “I walked out once before, when you wanted more from me than seemed right. Don't think I've got it in me to be so gallant a second time.”

“Was that a yes?”

He leaned over, frustration flashing in those ice-chip eyes before he cupped her jaw in his palms, lowered his mouth to his. And she thought, as his tongue and hers got better acquainted, as he closed her within the shelter of those arms,
This is nice.

Maybe too nice.

But it was too late to turn back now.

He broke the kiss; Mala tilted her head, touched his mouth. “I'm not going to change the rules on you, Eddie. I swear. And if I thought there was even a chance that
you
would try to change the rules, I wouldn't even be asking this.”

There went that serious face again. “You ever have an affair before, Miss Mala?”

“Not like this, no.”

“Then why now?”

“Because it didn't make sense before?”

He closed the two inches between them, again taking her
mouth. Fire leapt to life, deep within her, quickly turning into a vicious, gnawing hunger that might have scared her, if she hadn't been so sure she was doing the right thing. Well, maybe not cosmically right, but right for now. Which had been the revelation that had led her here to begin with, that maybe it wasn't a horrible thing to live for the moment, every decade or so.

“So when you figure we should, um, get started?” he whispered into her mouth, and she felt something like excitement start humming inside her. Especially when he started trailing a whole bunch of hot little kisses down her neck.

Now would be good,
she thought, then sighed, only partly because it was such a relief to find out his mouth was so much more than just decoration. “There's a good q-question. Not when the kids are around.”

He pulled back, frowning. “So I assume that lets out tonight.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“I can be real quiet.”

“That makes one of us, then.”

Oh, dear God—his eyes were going to burn a hole straight through her. “You're a screamer?”

“When the occasion demands it.”

Eddie groaned, then tilted back his head.
“Thank you,”
he said, and she laughed and started to say, “Sounds as if you're definitely warming up to the idea,” except then she noticed his hand had braved sweater and jacket to reach her breast, causing her to seriously reconsider her previous stance. Especially when he deftly popped open the front hook of her bra and claimed what was only too willing to be claimed.

Speaking of warming up. How the man's hand could be warm after twenty minutes outside, she didn't know, and frankly didn't care. His touch was so tender she thought she'd pass out. Her breast was just sort of floating in his palm, grinning.

“You're not playing fair,” she said, leaning closer. Nipping his earlobe.

“Damn straight,” he said, thumbing her nipple, which nat
urally provoked a little whimpering hiss on her part and a croaking
“When?”
on his.

“To-tomorrow night,” she got out, thinking if they didn't resolve this soon, she was going to explode right there on the steps, thereby giving half the town the thrill of their lives. “I'll get my parents to keep the kids.”

“I won't be through at the restaurant until after ten,” he purred in her ear, whereupon she mused that, after three years, it wasn't going to take a helluva long time to reach flashpoint.

“They can sp—spend the night over there.”

He shifted to the other breast, and she bit her lip to keep from saying something stupid, like
Take me. Now.
“On a school night?” he said.

What? Oh, right. She frowned, desperate for a coherent thought, brightening when she thought of one. “Presents!” she said, wondering if he could feel her nails digging into his shoulders. “To wrap. Kids…oh,
crud!
Someone's coming! Eddie! Eddie, cut it out!”

She popped up, leaving Eddie's lovely, warm, talented hand down there on the landing with him and her breasts up here wondering where the nice man had gone. But before she got down two steps, the nice man grabbed her by the wrist, pulled her back to him. Even in the dark, she could see the laughter in those bad boy eyes. “And I thought you were hot, darlin'.”

“Criminy, Eddie, keep your voice down!” she whispered, then waited, listening to Eddie's low chuckle until whoever it was, crazy enough to be out walking this time of night, passed. When she was sure the man was out of earshot, she said, still in a low voice, “Hot, yes. Kinky, no. Audiences do
not
turn me on.”

Still laughing, Eddie let her go, then propped his chin in his hand. “'Night, darlin',” he said. “Sweet dreams.”

She muttered something totally inane, then got the hell away from the man while she still remembered she even
had
children.

 

“But you never let the kids stay overnight on a school night,” her mother said the next morning when Mala called
from her cell phone, on her way to the first of three appointments.

“And I wouldn't now, except I suddenly realized how close it is to Christmas and I've got a million presents to wrap and this is the only night I have to do it. I mean, unless you and Pop have plans…”

“No, no, it's okay. You know we love to have the kids, anytime. It's you who never wants to bend a rule. You sure you're okay?”

Mala turned onto the highway. If all went well, she'd be done in Ann Arbor by ten, back in Spruce Lake for her eleven-thirty with Hinkle Hardware with time to spare. “Of course I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be okay?”

“You tell me.”

“I'm fine, Ma.”

“You sound strange.”

“Strange?”

“Well, not strange, exactly. Different. Like…excited or something?”

That would be the sound of my blood boiling.
“Must be the cell phone connection. Sounds a little weird on my end, too. Anyway, so I'll bring the kids over after school, if that's okay?”

“Whatever. You
sure
you're okay?”

“Good-
bye,
Ma.”

Of course she was okay, if you discounted the fact that her stomach was tied in about a million knots and she hadn't been exactly able to sleep last night.

She really had made plans to get naked with Eddie King, hadn't she?

Yes, dear, you certainly did. And how do we feel about that this morning?

Don't ask.

She wondered if he fully realized what he was about to get into. As it were. That underneath her floppy sweaters and long skirts was an equally floppy body. Well, okay, not floppy, exactly. Just…relaxed. A little lumpy, a little saggy.

Terrific. Now she sounded like an old mattress.

Actually, if it weren't for this nagging sense of sheer terror about the prospect of shedding her clothes in front of a man who didn't have a spare ounce of fat on him anywhere, she generally didn't have a problem with how she looked. In fact, Mala and her body had reached an understanding some time ago: she would feed it whatever it wanted in exchange for good health and great boobs. The hips, she could do without, but boobs without butt just looked funny, anyway.

She frowned, pulled into the passing lane to ditch some slob in a pickup out for a Sunday stroll, even though it was Tuesday. Man, these new tires sure made a difference… Anyway, where was she? Oh, right. Thinking about her naked body. Except she quickly decided thinking about
Eddie's
naked body was a much more worthwhile activity.

Her hormones murmured their collective agreement.

How in heaven's name was she gonna make it to ten-thirty tonight?

 

“Eddie!” Hannah Braden swept into the kitchen, her short blond hair radiating from her scalp like a million golden pins. An early season flu had taken out two waitresses and three of Eddie's kitchen staff, but not, apparently, the rest of Spruce Lake, all of whom apparently decided to give themselves a break from Christmas shopping and dine out this evening. At
Galen's.
And he couldn't touch the staff for the pizzeria next door, which was just as busy, if not even more so. “Two more grilled chicken marsalas, three tortellini with pesto sauce and the swordfish special,” she read off her order pad, grabbing a serving platter to load up the orders Eddie had just set under the warming lights.

“Got it,” Eddie said, tossing another set of chicken breasts on the grill, grabbing a swordfish steak from the fridge. “That's it for the swordfish, Hannah,” he called out. “You mind erasing it from the chalkboard when you get a chance?”

“Sure thing,” the college student said, swooping out the swinging door, tray held high.

Thank God Galen's crew was as good as it was. They'd been going like gangbusters since a little after five; it was just about
eight, another hour to go, and nobody'd bitched even once about the nonstop pace. Nobody'd gotten a break, either, but he could tell one or two of them were beginning to wilt a bit around the edges.

The swordfish running out was a surprise, though. He'd figured he'd have more than enough, especially for a Tuesday night. He didn't have to come up with another special—he imagined most of the customers would understand—but Galen had driven home that the specials were what brought the customers in, and brought them back. He had no time to do anything fancy, but there was always a ton of linguine on hand, and vegetables, and…

He got Marlene started on chopping up peppers and tomatoes, told Dilman to set the pasta maker for linguine, then went back to the chicken and swordfish, sternly telling himself he could not be tired tonight. That he
would
not be tired tonight. That if he had to cook another hundred dinners in the next hour, he was not going to disappoint Miss Mala.

At last, the final orders went out, the last dishes went into the industrial dishwasher, the last pot got cleaned and hung up. The staff practically staggered out the door, one of them coughing ominously. Eddie wandered out into the blissfully quiet dining room where Hannah and Jolie, the other waitress, were doing the final cleanup, too pooped to joke around like they usually did. Ellen, the cashier, was just finishing up the final talley and readying the bank bag to slip into the night depository.