Jennifer Crusie – Strange Bedpersons (страница 7)

“I can blame Park,” Tess said. “He’s the one who made this such a big deal. He promised Nick he’ll make partner if they get this account.”

Gina sounded unconvinced. “So why do you care? I thought you spit on big business. Especially lawyer big business.”

“I do. Nick doesn’t. And he needs my help.”

“So you’re still hung up on him.”

“No, I’m not hung up on him.” Tess sat up again, annoyed. “I just feel sorry for him.”

“Right,” Gina said. “And?”

“And he makes me feel good.” Tess leaned back a little as she thought about it. “Okay, he makes me feel really good.”

“And?” Gina prodded.

“And he turns me on,” Tess finally admitted, sliding all the way back down into the chair. “I know, I’m shallow.” She sighed. “Really shallow. I know he’s a mercenary lawyer, but we’re talking about a man who turns me on doing his laundry. You know, the kind of guy you sit next to by the dryer, and he’s wearing a sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off, and you realize he has the best arms you’ve ever seen in your life, and suddenly you’re having hot flashes and losing your train of thought, and it’s either menopause complicated by Alzheimer’s or you’re in heat, and then that damn tingle starts and you know you’re in heat, and you have to go upstairs and lock the door, because if you don’t, you’ll claw off his shirt and bite into his bicep.”

After a long pause Gina said, “Would you like me to wait while you go take a cold shower?”

Tess ignored the question. “This is why I should not be seeing him again. Because it’s only a matter of time before I just drag him off to the nearest flat surface and have my way with him. And that would be bad.”

“Oh, yeah,” Gina said. “That sounds bad. I wish I had something that bad.”

“Look,” Tess said, “don’t get snippy on me. That would be bad. I mean, I’m already tempted by him just because he makes me laugh and feel safe. If I went to bed with him and it was great, I’d be in real trouble. Because as much as he makes me crazy with lust, he really isn’t right for me. He thinks my apartment is a dump, and he gets huffy about my thrift-store clothes, and he wears designer suits and gold watches.”

“Oh, well, gold watches,” Gina said. “There’s a real drawback.”

“It’s symbolic,” Tess protested. “I mean, he can be really sweet, but he can also be an uptight, money-hungry yuppie. And the thing is, those money-hungry times just seem to be getting longer and the sweet times shorter, and I don’t really believe you can change a guy, and who am I to decide to change him, anyway? He’s happy the way he is. We’re better off apart. Besides, he won’t let me wear an apron.”

Gina sighed. “I think you should lose your mind and marry him. God knows, I would. I’m the one who needs somebody to support me.”

“How very mercenary of you,” Tess said.

“How very practical of me,” Gina said. “So how old is this Park?”

“Oh, come on.”

“Come on, yourself. How old?”

“Late thirties, early forties, I think,” Tess said. “Nick’s thirty-eight, and I think Park’s a few years older.”

“I like older guys.”

“Gina!” Tess sat up and clutched the phone. “After all I’ve said about him? You wouldn’t.”

“Of course I wouldn’t,” Gina said, laughing. “I’m just yanking your chain. Can’t you just see me with some high-society guy? What a laugh.”

“Why?” Tess said, switching sides in an instant. “What’s wrong with you in high society? You’d fit in anywhere. In fact, now that I think about it, you’d be great for Park.” She started to grin as she thought about it. “He always dates these women who have the personalities of flatfish. It would do him good to meet a real female person.”

“Forget it.”

“I’m not kidding.” Tess examined her new idea and liked it. “Listen, if you’re not busy this weekend, I can get you invited to a party full of rich guys with husband potential, and you’ll get to see Park in action because you’ll be his date.”

“God, no,” Gina said, the horror in her voice evident even over the phone. “Rich guys? I don’t want a rich guy. I’d stick out like a sore thumb.”

“What are you talking about?” Tess said. “You would not. And speaking of sticking out, what was the deal with the gum? You only chew gum when you get nervous. What happened?”

“Nick kinda makes me nervous,” Gina said. “It’s not his fault. He just always looks so…slick. You know?”

“I know,” Tess said gloomily as she sank back into her chair.

“Listen, I appreciate this, I really do,” Gina said, her words tumbling out in a nervous rush, “but I can’t go to this thing with you. I’d die, I really would.”

“No, you won’t. I’ll be with you. Besides, you need this. You want a husband, you’re going to get one. This place will be crawling with rich guys. One of them might be nice. If nothing else, you’ll get a whole weekend of free food.”

“I don’t need food that much.”

“Besides, it’s just Park,” Tess said. “He has the brains of a kumquat. You’ll do fine.”

“I don’t know,” Gina said.

“I’ll give his secretary your number,” Tess said. “This is going to be great for you.”

“Gee, thanks,” Gina said. “I don’t know about this, Tess.”

“Trust me,” Tess said. “This is going to be the best thing that ever happened to you.”

Three

For the next two days Tess tutored at the Foundation, researched the backgrounds and interests of everyone on the board of the Decker Academy and tried to forget Nick and the upcoming weekend. Forgetting Nick was not easy. She reminded herself that he had patted Gina on the head and made her nervous enough to chew gum. But then she reminded herself that he’d rushed Angela to the vet when she’d been hit by a car even though she’d scratched him and bled all over his leather jacket and he’d never said a word to her in reproach. And then she remembered that he had the greatest arms she’d ever seen on a man. And then her mind wandered and she was in trouble again. In fact, her mind wandered a lot, and it always wandered to Nick, and her thoughts were always eventually more than warm no matter how she tried to talk herself out of them, and they often led to her lying curled in the fetal position on her couch contemplating hotly inappropriate acts in excitingly inappropriate places with a consenting conservative lawyer.

By Thursday, she was regretting she’d ever met him and counting the hours until she saw him again.

NICK WOULD HAVE understood perfectly.

“This may have been a mistake,” he told Christine Thursday morning when she brought the mail into his office and dropped it on his massive ebony desk.

“Probably,” Christine agreed. “Park left a message. He has a date for tomorrow night with someone who can read. He said to tell you thank-you.”

“What do you mean ‘probably’?” Nick demanded, tipping his leather desk chair back so he could meet her eyes. “You don’t even know what I’m talking about.”

“You’re not sure about Tess,” Christine said.

“How’d you know that?” Nick narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You know, sometimes you’re a little creepy, Christine.”

“I live to serve,” she said.

Nick stared at her for a moment, biting his lip, tapping his pen on the desktop. “It’s not just her mouth,” he said finally. “It’s her clothes. She’s completely capable of wrapping herself in a thrift-store tablecloth and calling it a Victorian sarong.”

Christine waited, staring into space as if mentally doing her nails.

“Christine…” Nick began, smiling at her with all the charm in his possession.

Christine buffed another mental cuticle.

“Yo, Christine,” Nick said, snapping his fingers.

“I’m here,” Christine said. “Waiting for orders. Any orders.”

“You know, Christine,” Nick said, “the life of a secretary is a…varied one.”

“What do you want me to do?” Christine said flatly.

Nick gave up on the charm. “I know this isn’t in your job description, but go get Tess a dress and have it delivered to her. Then take the rest of the afternoon off so I don’t feel guilty about making you shop instead of type. I’m not going to get a damn thing done until this party is over, anyway.”

Christine stood patiently. “Where, what size, what color?”

Nick took a card out of his desk and began to write. “I don’t care where. I don’t know what size. Black. Conservative.” He finished writing and handed her the card. “Put that with it.”

Christine read the card. “I need to know the size.”

Nick frowned. “Sort of medium.”

Christine looked at him with contempt, which Nick saw as a move in the right direction, given Christine’s general detachment from human interaction.

“How tall is she?” Christine asked.