Jennifer Crusie
Strange Bedpersons

MILLS & BOON

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This book is for Eric Walborn

1960-1993

Because there was no one in the world like Eric,

So bright, so kind, so loving, so full of life,

So apt to make jokes and to understand them.

Also his face was beautiful, and we loved him.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

One

When Tess Newhart threw open her apartment door, Nick Jamieson was standing there—tall, dark, successful and suspiciously happy to see her, his pleasantly blunt face a nice human contrast to his perfectly tailored suit. She stared at him warily, fighting down the ridiculous jolt of relief, happiness, and lust that welled up in her just because he was back.

Then he threw his arms wide to hug her.

“Tess!” he said, beaming at her. “You look great!”

Tess looked down at her sagging, bleach-splotched sweats. So much for relief, happiness and lust. She rolled her eyes at him, all her suspicions confirmed. “Right.” She slammed the door in his face and shot home both dead bolts.

“Aw, come on, Tess,” Nick called through the door. “It’s been a month. Actually it’s been a month, a week and two days, but who’s counting? All right, I’m counting. I miss you. I keep calling but you won’t call me back. Is that fair? I think we should talk about this.”

“I don’t,” Tess said firmly to the door, but she ran her fingers through her short red curls. If Nick hadn’t had such a large streak of calculating rat running through him, he would have been just what she needed at the moment, instead of the last thing she needed. But there was that streak of rat, and if he was at her door being charming it was because he wanted something. And the something probably wasn’t her. It was something to do with money, promotion, status or all of the above. She shook her head and turned back to cross the threadbare gray carpet to her chair and her conversation.

“Who’s the wise guy? Your landlord?” Gina DeCosta sprawled on Tess’s lumpy couch, her unruly black hair falling into her eyes, her small body lost in a huge black T-shirt, and her legs wrapped in black leggings as tight as Ace bandages. She stretched out tentatively and winced.

“Worse.” Tess flopped down into her decrepit armchair, which groaned under her weight, and slung her long legs over the side. “You know, every time I think my life has hit bottom, somebody lowers the bottom.”

Nick pounded on the door. “Come on, Tess. Open up.”

“Who is that guy?” Gina said.

“Nick, but I don’t want to talk about it. Between him and my landlord, I may never open that door again.” Tess patted her lap, and a huge black cat jumped into her arms, reclaiming the territory she’d lost when Tess had gone to answer the door. “Sorry, Angela,” Tess murmured to the cat.

“Tess?” Nick called. “Come on. Let’s be adult about this. Or you can be adult and I’ll fake it. Tess?”

Gina frowned at the door. “Why are you ducking Nick?”

“Well.” Tess thought for a minute. “It’s like this.” She stood up, dumping the cat off her lap again. “I answered the door and he said—” she flung her arms wide and beamed a toothpaste smile at Gina “—Tess, you look great!”

Gina looked at Tess’s sweats. “Uh-oh.”

“Exactly.” Tess flopped back into her chair. “You know, every time I see Nick, my mind looks at him and says, ‘Yes, he’s fun, but he’s also a power-hungry rat, so stay away from him,’ and then my body looks at him and says, ‘Hello, gorgeous, come to Mama.”’ She shook her head. “I have to have a long talk with my body.”

Gina looked at the sweats again. “I don’t think it’s gonna listen to you. If you dressed me like that, I wouldn’t listen to you.”

“Forget the clothes,” Tess said. “You’re starting to sound like Nick.”

“Okay. New topic. Why are you waiting for your landlord?”

“I reported him to the housing commission.” Tess smiled, cheered up by the thought.

“Well, that was unfriendly,” Gina said. “What did he do?”

“It’s what he didn’t do.” Tess shifted in her chair as she warmed to the story of her landlord’s crimes. “Three apartments in this building have been vandalized in the past two months, and Ray won’t even fix the lock on the hall door. Anybody can walk in here. Somebody had to do something.” She grinned at Gina. “And, I thought, who better than me?”

“Tess?” Nick called again. “It’s not safe out here. If I get mugged because you’re playing hard to get, you’ll never forgive yourself.”

Both women turned to look at the door, and then Gina looked at Tess. Tess shrugged.

“Okay,” Gina said, abandoning the subject of Nick. “So you did something. That’s no big surprise. I’m just amazed you did something as calm as reporting him.”

“Well, I thought about organizing a candlelight-vigil protest march,” Tess said, starting to grin again. “I thought all the tenants could light candles and march on Ray’s condominium, but this place is such a firetrap I knew we’d never make it to the front door alive, so then I thought about using Bic lighters, instead, but that made me think of Stanley across the hall.”

“Stanley?”

“You’ve never seen Stanley?” Tess’s grin widened. “Stanley always wears the same T-shirt and it doesn’t cover his tummy, and Stanley’s tummy is not attractive. In fact, Stanley’s stomach is the only one I’ve ever seen with a five-o’clock shadow.” She frowned at Gina. “Do you suppose he shaves it?”

Gina made a face. “That’s gross.”

“I think so, too, which is why I couldn’t picture Stanley with a Bic. A torch, yes. A Bic, no.” Tess smiled again. “But then I thought, why not give Stanley a pitchfork and put him at the head of the march?” She stopped to visualize it. “You know, there’s a lot of Quasimodo in Stanley.”

“Come on, Tess, cut me a break here,” Nick called. “I came back to apologize. Doesn’t that count for something?”

Gina raised an eyebrow at Tess, but Tess shook her head, so Gina returned to Stanley. “I don’t think Quasimodo had a pitchfork,” she said. “He didn’t in the movie.”

“Anyway, I finally had to get serious before somebody around here got hurt,” Tess said. “So I acted like an adult and filed the report.”

“Good choice,” Gina said. “Getting arrested for pitchforking Ray the landlord would probably have been bad for your career.”

“Well, actually my career is sort of dead right now.” Tess slumped down in her chair. “I wasn’t going to tell you since this is your first night back from the tour and I was looking forward to one night without trauma, but…I lost my job.”

“Oh, no.” Gina sat up, her face bleak with sympathy and concern. “What happened?”

“Don’t panic,” Tess said from the depths of her chair. “I have a plan.”

“Sure you do,” Gina said. “What happened?”

“Funding cuts. The education governor we elected decided that supporting private-tutoring foundations wasn’t educational. So now the Foundation is going to have to only use volunteers. Eventually the whole place may go.”

“Tess, I’m really sorry,” Gina said. “Really. I know how much those kids meant to you.”

“Hey.” Tess straightened and glared at Gina with mock severity. “I’m not finished yet. The kids aren’t leaving. And neither am I. I just have to find a job to pay my bills that gives me my afternoons free so I can still volunteer there.” She grinned. “I saw Pretty Woman the other night on TV, and Julia Roberts was having such a good time being objectified by Richard Gere that I seriously thought about taking up hooking, but then I thought, thirty-six is a little old to hit the streets.”

Nick knocked again. “Tess? You want me to grovel? I’ll grovel. I’ve got a great grovel. You’ve never seen my grovel—you left before I could show it to you. Come on, Tess, let me in.”

Gina jerked her head toward the door. “If you’re thinking about swapping your bod for money, go answer the door. He’s still loaded, right?”

Tess nodded. “I haven’t checked lately, but knowing Nick and his affinity for money, he’s still loaded.”

“Marry him,” Gina said.

“No,” Tess said.

“Why not?”

“Well, to begin with, he hasn’t asked me,” Tess answered. “And he’s a Republican lawyer, so my mother would disown me. And then—” Tess frowned “—I always thought it would be a good idea to marry somebody who wouldn’t try to pick up the maid of honor at the reception. Call me crazy but—”

“Since that would be me, you got no worries. Marry him.”

“You don’t know Nick,” Tess said. “He could seduce Mother Teresa.” She cocked her head toward the door and listened for a moment. “And it doesn’t seem to be an option anymore. I think he got tired and left.” She tried hard not to be disappointed. After all, she’d had no intention of opening the door anyway.

Still, it wasn’t like Nick to give up that fast, dangerous hallway or not. He must not have missed her that much, after all.

Damn.

NICK LEANED against the wall outside Tess’s door and analyzed the situation. Pounding was obviously not getting him anyplace, and his charm was bombing, too, which was a new experience for him. What the hell was wrong here? Maybe she was still mad, but she couldn’t be that mad. Not Tess. Tess erupted all over the place and then forgot about it. She’d never sulked in her life. So there was something else keeping her from falling at his feet. Nick grinned at the thought. Okay, she’d never fallen at his feet. But she’d never slammed a door in his face, either.

She was upset about something.

That wasn’t good. He liked Tess, and the thought of her being unhappy bothered him. He spared a fleeting thought of concern for her and then returned to his own problem.

She wasn’t upset with him. She hadn’t slammed the door on him right away, so it was something else. Probably one of her lame ducks in trouble. And when he’d tried that dumb line about her looking great—when she actually looked like hell—she’d gotten exasperated and slammed the door. All right, so he deserved the door. Now all he had to do was get the door open again, give her a little sympathy, and he’d be in.

If he waited half an hour and then knocked again, she might open it, thinking he’d gone away.

And if he had flowers or candy or something…No. Not for Tess. Tess would not be impressed with generic peace offerings. He thought about the problem for another minute and then left, surveying the gloomy hall with contempt as he went.

“I THINK you shoulda let him in,” Gina said. “Rich lawyers don’t grow on trees.” She flexed her right leg cautiously. “Hey, you got any muscle rub? My calves are killing me.”

“I don’t have time to toy with Nick right now. I have to work on my plan.” Tess rose and walked the few steps across her tiny apartment to her bathroom, stepping over several sloppy stacks of books, a pile of mismatched socks, a bundle of partly graded essays and a half-finished poster that said I Read Banned Books. “I have a chance at a teaching job, but I don’t know if I can get it. I’m not really qualified for it, and it would be working with a bunch of rich kids, so they’d probably think I was an alien, but the money is good and the hours are great.”

When she’d found the muscle cream, she went back out and handed it to Gina and then dropped back into her chair.

Gina squirted the cream onto her fingers. “Go for it. It beats starving.” She winced as she rubbed the cream into her calf.

Tess sat up, her job problems forgotten. “Are you all right? I thought this was just your usual dancer’s cramp.”

“No, I’m not all right,” Gina said. “I’m thirty-five. I’m not snapping back like I used to.” She rubbed her calves again, frowning at the ache. “I’m starting to really hate the pain. I never liked it, but now I’m starting to hate it.”

Tess wasn’t sure what to say. “How can I help?”

Gina laughed. “You can’t. It’s age.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tess began, but Gina waved her into silence.

“Honey, I’m the Grandma Moses of the chorus line.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tess said again. “You work all the time. You’re never out of a job. How many dancers can say that?”

“I’m never out of a job because I always show up, I’m never sick, I never screw up, and I never leave the show in New Jersey to get married.” Gina stretched out her legs, the pain reflected in her face easing a little. “But that’s not gonna carry me forever.” She shrugged. “’Course, neither will my legs.” She stared at them as if they were something she’d picked up on sale and now regretted. “I don’t think I ever want to do another plié again.”

“You’re joking.” Tess fell silent for half a second and then regrouped. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to get married,” Gina said.

Tess sank back into her chair. “Married? This is new.”

“Not really. I always wanted to get married,” Gina said wistfully. “I just wanted a career first.” She smiled a little. “Big career I got. Now I want some peace and quiet. Some security.” She looked at Tess, suddenly vulnerable. “You know, some love. I never found anybody on the road, which is no big surprise when I think about it. But now I’m ready. I want a house and kids and the whole bit.”

“Is this because you never got out of the chorus?” Tess said. “Because think about all the people who never got in…”

“I never wanted out of the chorus.” Gina flexed her legs again and winced. “I never wanted to be a star. I never wanted all that attention. I just wanted to be part of the show. And that’s what I want now. I don’t need some big, important guy. I just want to find a nice, unimportant guy and be part of his show.”

“As a feminist, I should probably say something here,” Tess said. “But I won’t, because it’s your life.”

“Thanks,” Gina said. “I appreciate that.”

“I know some nice guys from the Foundation,” Tess said. “Of course they’re out of work now, but they’re…”

Gina shook her head. “I can do this on my own, Tess. Forget about fixing my life.” She shot another look around the apartment. “You got your own to fix first, anyway.”

“Me? I’m not ready to get married. I never even think about it.” Tess looked around the apartment, too. “Well, I hardly ever think about it.”

Gina’s eyebrows shot up. “Hardly?”

“Well, every now and then I have these fantasies where I wear an apron and say, ‘Hi, honey, how was your day?’ to somebody gorgeous who immediately makes love to me on the kitchen table.”

Gina looked confused. “Sounds like Betty Crocker Does Dallas.”

“I know.” Tess frowned. “I don’t think I’m cut out to be a wife. I mean, I get lonely sometimes, and I start thinking about how nice it would be to be a homey sort of person and bake cherry pie for somebody, but then one thing leads to another and I’m having fantasies about somebody ripping off my apron and licking cherry juice off my body, and I lose my grip.” She focused back on Gina. “Besides, I can’t bake pie. So I don’t think about getting married much.”

Gina scowled at her. “How could you get lonely? You think it’s your job to save everybody in the world. You gotta know more grateful people than—”

“Well, sometimes it would be nice not to save everybody,” Tess said. “Sometimes I think it would really be nice to be taken care of and live in a house, instead of an apartment, and to have great sex every night.” Tess stopped. “I’ve got to get off this sex thing. It’s clouding my mind. The career, Tess, concentrate on the career.” She shook her head. “Now I’m starting to sound like Nick.”

“Speaking of Nick, why’d you shut the door on him? That’s prime home-building material there.”

Tess laughed. “You obviously don’t know Nick. The only reason he’d build a home is for the equity. In fact, that’s the reason he did build a house.” She leaned her head back against the chair, remembering. “The skeleton of the place was up about the time I left him. We walked through it once, and I was trying to figure out what it would look like, and he was trying to figure out how much it would appreciate in value the first year.” Tess grinned. “It was not a Kodak moment for us.”

“Did you have Kodak moments?”

“Yeah,” Tess said, her grin fading. “We did. Quite a few actually.” She stood up suddenly and went into her bedroom.

“Tess?” Gina called.

“Here,” Tess said when she came back. She sat beside Gina on the edge of the couch and showed her a snapshot. It was Nick, a smudge of dirt on his chin and his hair in his eyes, in an old sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off, sitting on the ground with his arms wrapped around Tess from behind, his chin buried in her shoulder. Tess was even more of a mess: her red hair stood straight up and her face was dirty, and she had no makeup on at all. Her smile took up her whole face, and she looked about ten.

“What were you doing?” Gina asked, mystified.

“This is the first day we met.” Tess smiled at the picture. “At a picnic. Playing touch football. He was wearing these really ratty jeans and a sweatshirt that was older than my sweatshirt, and I thought he was poor and cheerful, like the prince in my fairy tale.” She laughed. “Boy, was I wrong.”

Gina took the picture and looked at Nick more closely. “Even messed up, he’s gorgeous, Tess.”

“I know,” Tess said. “But looks aren’t everything. It was those damn crinkles he gets around his eyes when he smiles that threw me off, but he was definitely the wrong prince.” She shook her head and sighed. “It wasn’t long before I caught on, though. I mean, we were obviously not the perfect couple. We went to this opera thing the night we broke up, and the press took our picture.” She grinned at Gina. “Actually the press took Nick’s picture and got me because I was standing beside him. It finally made the society page a couple of days ago.” Her grin widened as she remembered the picture. “Nick looked like a Kennedy cousin. I looked like a rutabaga with hair. All over Riverbend, people looked at that picture and said, ‘What does he see in her?”’ Tess shook her head again. “We definitely do not belong together.”

Gina handed the photo back. “I still don’t get the prince bit.”

Tess moved back to her own chair, looking sadly at the print. “Remember I told you I lived in a commune when I was little?” she said, her fingertip stroking the edge of the photo. “Well, my mother wouldn’t let me read Cinderella and the other fairy tales. She said they were patriarchal and sexist, and I was really disappointed, so a friend of hers at the commune, this guy named Lanny, made up this story for me that he called CinderTess.” She laughed at the sound of it.

“Cute,” Gina said. “But I still don’t get the prince.”

“Well, CinderTess got to the ball on her own without any fairy godmother by rescuing people and animals who turned out to be able to help her,” Tess explained. “But she felt responsible for them and their problems, so when she got to the ball, and she was the best dancer there—”

“Not the prettiest?” Gina asked, grinning.

“Looks are superficial. Real women get by on hard work and skill,” Tess said primly, and grinned back. “Where was I?”

“She was the best dancer…” Gina prompted.

“So while she had all the attention because she was the best, she sort of made speeches about the problems. There was one about the environment and one about the poor, I think. I never really paid attention to those parts and only listened to the good ones—about the prince.” She smiled again, remembering. “I didn’t care about the politically correct part. I just wanted a fairy tale with a prince.”

Gina laughed. “Who doesn’t? So where’s the prince?”

“There were two of them who got upset about the speeches. But the third prince said she was right and helped her and—this is the part I always liked—he had these crinkles…” she screwed up her face to make laugh lines at the corners of her eyes “…right here, and he promised her he’d help her make things better and that she’d laugh every day if she married him, so CinderTess knew he was the one.” She looked back down at the picture. “I’m sure Lanny meant well, but those crinkles have played merry hell with my life ever since I met Nick.”

Someone knocked on the door.

“Must be the landlord,” Gina said. “Try not to hurt him too bad.”

Tess tossed the snapshot on the end table and stood up, tipping her exasperated cat out of her lap again, but when she opened the door, it was Nick.

“I know you’re upset, so I won’t bother you for long.” He smiled at her, his dark eyes brimming with the confident charm she found alternately obnoxious and irresistible, depending on the reason he was using it on her. There were crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and a lock of his hair fell over one eye and made him look rakish and endearing.

Tess was sure he knew he looked rakish and endearing.

Still, he also knew she was troubled, and that was touching.

His smile broadened as she hesitated. “I brought you something to cheer you up,” he said, handing her a carton of Chinese food.

“What is it?” Tess said, taking it from him, knowing she shouldn’t but weakening.

“Pot stickers,” Nick said. “Double order.”

“Oh.” Tess blinked at him. “You remembered.”

“I remember everything,” Nick said, and Tess’s uncertain expression turned to contempt.

“That sounds like a line,” she said. “Did you really come back to apologize, or is this something that you and that weasel you work for have cooked up to close some deal?”

“Park? Funny you should mention Park—” Nick said, and Tess slammed the door in his face again and went back to her chair, dropping the pot stickers on the table as she sat.

“He’s hopeless,” Tess began, and then she jumped when Nick opened the door and closed it behind him, throwing the dead bolts.

“Lock your door, dummy,” he said. “This is a terrible neighborhood. Anybody could walk in here.”

“Anybody just did.” Tess put her hands on her hips, faking indignation. “Go away.”

Nick headed for the kitchen, stopping only to pat Gina on the head. “Hi, kid. Good to see you again. You look great.”

Gina beamed and started to say something, but he’d moved on by then. She checked herself, her smile fading, and then she dug in her purse until she found a stick of gum.

“Excuse me?” Tess called after him. “I did not invite you in.”

Nick backtracked swiftly and kissed her. She softened into him for just an instant, giving herself just a second of his warmth before she ripped into him as he so richly deserved. But before she could retaliate he let her go and again headed for her tiny kitchen. “God, this place is a mess,” he said. “Is any of my beer still in the fridge?” He stepped over the cat as it made for Tess’s lap. “Hello, Angela. Try not to shed on me.”

Tess looked at Gina.

“Definitely time to talk to the body,” Gina said. “If you’d had an apron on, you woulda ripped it off.”

Tess jerked on the hem of her sweatshirt and lowered her chin, trying to psych herself into being impressive. “You’ve been rejected,” she called to Nick. “Leave.”

“You can’t reject a proposal you’ve never heard,” Nick said from the kitchen.

“You’re proposing?” Tess said in disbelief. “I don’t believe it.”

Gina’s eyebrows shot up. “Marriage?” she whispered to Tess around her gum. “Grab him.”

“Of course not marriage,” Tess said to Gina. “What are you proposing?” she asked Nick. “Whatever it is, the answer is no, of course, but I like to know what I’m rejecting.”

“Well, not marriage.” Nick came to lean in the doorway with his beer, smiling at her, solidly attractive, boyishly confident and infinitely desirable. Stop it, Tess told herself, and narrowed her eyes at him.

“I need a date for the weekend,” he said, and widened his grin. “I thought of you first.”

“Why?” Tess said, trying to stomp on the little sizzle that had started inside her when he smiled at her.

“Because I need you,” Nick said. “My life has been empty since you walked out.” He twisted the cap off the beer and began to drink.

“Your life has never been empty, even after I walked out.” Tess swung her gaze to Gina. “I picked him up at the airport one day, and the stewardess kissed him goodbye. You’d have thought he was going off to war. She did everything but offer to have his baby right there on the spot.”

Nick choked on his beer. “She was just a friend,” he said, swallowing. “I’m a friendly guy.”

“I realize that,” Tess said, crossing her arms. “Get out.”

“Tess, honey.” Nick leaned forward and smiled at her. “Sweetie. Baby.”

“Boy, you must really be in trouble,” Tess said.

“Up to my neck,” Nick said. “I need you. One weekend. No strings.”

“No sex,” Tess said, ignoring her body. “That offer will not be repeated.”

“Whatever you say,” Nick agreed. “If that’s the way you want it, no sex.”

Tess turned to Gina. “This must be bad. I think he really is in trouble.”

“So of course you gotta save him.” Gina smiled shyly at Nick. “I’m all for it. For once those dogooder instincts of hers are gonna do her some good.”

“You know, I always liked you,” Nick said to Gina, and she blushed with pleasure.

“Actually I don’t care if I save him or not, but if I go with him this weekend, I’ll get to watch,” Tess said. “If it’s really big trouble, I may feel avenged for that war bride of a stewardess.”

“You’re all heart,” Nick said to her.

“Although it won’t make up for the night you stood me up at the Foundation benefit.” Tess made a face. “And definitely not for that night you turned me down in the Music Hall parking lot. I know women who’d be slashing your tires and poisoning your beer for that night alone.”

Nick started and glanced down at the bottle in his hand.

Tess studied him with a sinking heart and rising heat. He was easily the most attractive thing in her apartment. In fact, he was easily the most attractive thing in her life. Of course, looks were superficial. Especially on Nick who had more faces than Sybil.

She cast an uncertain look at Gina, still stretched out on the couch.

Gina cracked her gum. “Do it.”

“Maybe.” Tess turned back to Nick. “Give me the details. And this better be good.”

“It’s terrible,” Nick said.

Gina swung her legs to the floor, winced and stood up. “This sounds like my exit cue.”

“No, it isn’t,” Tess said at the same time Nick said, “Thank you. You have terrific instincts.”

“Hey.” Tess said, but Gina picked up her purse.

“I have to be going, anyway,” she told Tess. “I love you, but I don’t want to hang out in your neighborhood after dark, and I really need more of this muscle stuff on my legs. Call me later and tell me everything.”

“You know, that’s an intelligent woman,” Nick said when she was gone.

“That’s the woman you said was wasting her life in tights,” Tess reminded him.

Nick winced. “I didn’t exactly say that. I said that dancing wasn’t much of a career, and she was going to be in trouble someday if she didn’t plan ahead.”

“Well, some people live for the moment.” Tess flopped back into her chair and tried to forget that Gina was in trouble right now because she hadn’t planned ahead. One of the more annoying things about Nick was that he was often right.

“I was wrong. I’m sorry.” Nick opened his mouth to go on, but Tess shook her head.

“Forget it. I’m in a bad mood and I’m taking it out on you. Now, explain this mess to me.” She craned her neck to look up at him. “But don’t explain it looming over me.” She waved him to the floor. “Sit.” She watched him slide down the wall beside her chair to sit at her feet, his broad body graceful even in collapse. She grinned at him. “This is good. You understand the basic commands.”

“Come down here with me and I’ll roll over,” Nick said, and Tess felt her pulse flutter.

“Go away,” she said.

“Forget I said that,” Nick said. “That was my evil twin.”

“The only evil twin you have is that twit you work for,” Tess said.

“Funny, you should mention Park…” Nick began again.

IT HADN’T SEEMED like a disaster to Nick when he’d walked blithely into his office at Patterson and Patterson a couple of hours earlier. Walking into Patterson and Patterson always made him feel good, anyway. There was something about the ambiance of grossly expensive imported mahogany paneling, grossly expensive imported Oriental carpets, grossly expensive antique furniture and moderately expensive secretarial help at his beck and call that made him feel like a robber baron. And that afternoon, life had been especially good: an important and unexpectedly swift victory in court, a grateful client and an afternoon that was suddenly his to spend any way he wanted. If the lettering on the door had only said Patterson, Patterson and Jamieson, life would have been perfect.

Then things started to go downhill.

“I’m back, Christine,” he’d said to his secretary.

Christine looked up at him, beautifully brunette but only marginally interested.

“No, don’t get up,” he said on his way into his office. “I can find my way.”

Christine drifted to her feet and followed him, giving the impression she’d been going that way, anyway. “Mr. Patterson was in today,” she told him. “And Park wants to see you.”

“You put that well.” Nick shrugged off his jacket and dropped it on a chair. He sat down at his desk, glanced at the framed snapshot on it with a half smile, and then leaned back in his chair, tugging at his tie. “Park’s dad put him in a snit again, but you’re too tactful to say that. No wonder we pay you a fortune.”

“I need a raise,” Christine said without changing her tone or expression. “And I wouldn’t call it a snit. More like a panic.”

Nick loosened his tie and sighed a little in relief. “I hate ties. Some woman must have thought them up for revenge.” He cocked an eye at Christine. “You wouldn’t have had anything to do with that, would you?”

“Yes,” Christine said. “You also have several messages from women. None from Tess.”

Nick’s eyes went to the picture on his desk and then back to Christine. “Why would I want to hear from Tess?”

“Because you keep calling her and she doesn’t call back,” Christine said with great and obvious patience. “Your messages are on your desk. Park is in his office. Pacing.”

Nick ignored the messages. “Anything I should know before I see him?”

“How would I know?” Christine said, drifting out the door again. “I’m just a secretary.”

“Right,” Nick said. “And don’t you forget it.”

Christine ignored him.

“NICK!” PARK HAD COME OUT from behind his massive desk to slap him on the back, the picture of an Ivy League beach-boy, hitting forty and fighting it every minute. “Buddy! Pal! Compadre!”

“Compadre?” Nick shook his head and stretched out in the leather chair in front of Park’s desk. “This must be bad. You don’t speak Spanish.”

“How about partner?” Park said.

Nick crossed his ankles on the Oriental rug, trying to look unconcerned as his pulse leapt. “Partner would be good,” he said. “Does this mean we got the Welch account?”

“We haven’t exactly got the account.” Park sat on the edge of his desk and leaned forward to slap Nick on the shoulder again. “But no problemo, hey? You can still pull it off. You’ll just have to do a couple of small things and—”

“What?” Nick said suspiciously, his heart sinking at Park’s tone.

“Well, it would help if you’d get married,” Park said.

“I told you that you shouldn’t have done all those drugs in the seventies,” Nick said. “You’re having a flashback.”

“Funny.” Park paused. “Welch called Dad. He wants to meet our families. Especially yours. He likes you.”

“We don’t have families,” Nick said. “Or I don’t. You can at least show him a couple of parents. What’s this about?”

“I have no idea,” Park said. “We’re invited to his place in Kentucky—Friday night and Saturday—for a reading from his new book, and Dad said that Welch specifically told him that we’re supposed to bring our wives. Especially you. What did you say to Welch, anyway?”

Nick shrugged. “I don’t know. I sure as hell didn’t tell him I was married. He came to my office on an impulse, he said, and for some reason he was being a real bastard, edgy as hell, and I was pouring on the charm, trying to sell him on the deal when all of sudden, he—” Nick stopped, trying to pinpoint exactly what had happened. “He mellowed on me. Smiled, nodded, turned into Mr. Congeniality.” Nick frowned as he remembered the conversation. “I’ve been going over it in my mind, but for the life of me, I can’t recall exactly what I said. I was just explaining the plans we had for negotiating the new book contract, and suddenly he was a nice guy. And now he wants to meet my family? This is ridiculous.”

“No, this is Norbert Nolan Welch, the great American author,” Park said. “This is the account my father wants, has always wanted, and will be overwhelmed to get. This is the one we want so much that if we have to get married to get it, we will.”

Nick narrowed his eyes. “Why will we do this?”

Park shifted on the desk. “Because if we get this, my father will retire.” He paused for a moment, a look of ecstasy on his face.

“Why?” Nick said.

“He’s been trying to get Welch for years.” Park shrugged at the inexplicability of it. “He’d consider it going out in style. Leaving the firm after snagging the account of one of America’s greatest novelists is his idea of the perfect exit. Think of the speeches at his retirement dinner. Think of the bragging he could do.” Park looked guiltily at Nick. “Think of you finally making partner.”

Nick straightened in his chair, trying hard not to leap to his feet at the thought. There was ambition, which was good; and then there was pathetic, deep-seated, naked ambition, which was bad and which he was riddled with. He knew it was bad because it made him look anxious and vulnerable, and because Tess had told him it was morally reprehensible and there were times he thought she might have a point. A small point, but still a point. In the long run, though, it didn’t matter; lust for success was what made him run, and as long as he didn’t actually start maiming people to get to the top, he could live with it. The trick was in not betraying the depth of his need, so he kept his voice as cool as possible as he asked, “I make partner if we sign Welch?”

“No doubt about it,” Park said. “We could stop sneaking around trying to run this place behind Dad’s back. We could stop cleaning up after his mistakes. And we could definitely make you partner. With my dad retired, it won’t matter that you’re not family. It won’t be a family firm anymore, anyway.”

It was exactly what Nick wanted, but like everything else he’d wanted in his life, there was a catch to it. There was always a catch. Sometimes Nick got damn tired of catches.

He leaned back in his chair and shook his head at Park. “But I make partner only if we get the account, which is probably not going to happen, and we both know it. You know, you could just suggest to your father that I should be a partner even though I’m not family. I’m overdue for it, no matter what he says.”

Park looked appalled. “Disagree with my father?”

“Right,” Nick said. “I forgot. So what is it I have to do here?”

“Get married.”

“No.”

“My dad thinks it’s time.” Park looked suicidal. “He said that playing the field is for young men. He said unmarried men at forty-two just look pathetic.”

Nick shrugged. “That’s your problem. I’m thirty-eight.”

“He said anything over thirty-five is questionable.”

Nick held on to his patience. “Park, no offense, but I don’t give a rat’s ass what your father thinks about my marital status. I just want to make partner.” He thought for a minute. “And a lot of money.”

“And you will,” Park assured him. “You just have to get the Welch account.”

“Right.”

“So find a wife,” Park said.

“No.”

“How about a serious fiancée? Can’t you propose to one of those women you keep dating?”

“How about a serious breach-of-promise suit when I change my mind after the weekend is over?”

“Don’t you know anybody who could fake it for a weekend?” Park’s eyes pleaded with him. “Dad said we had to get women who know literature.”

“Tess,” Nick said promptly, and Park groaned.

“Not Tess. Anyone but Tess.”

“She probably wouldn’t do it, anyway,” Nick said. “She pretty much stopped talking to me right after I refused to—” He caught himself and stopped. “What have you got against Tess, anyway?”

“I just hate to see you limiting yourself to one woman. Never limit yourself. That’s why I want you to get the Welch account. New horizons.”

“I haven’t exactly seen everything I wanted of Tess’s horizons,” Nick said.

“Tess is no good for you,” Park said. “Women with brains are bad news. They distract you with their bodies and then they—”

“Tess would be excellent for impressing an author,” Nick said. “She’s an English teacher. She’s involved in all those censorship protests.” He thought back to the last one he’d seen her at, holding a sign that said Pornography Is in the Mind of the Beholder. She’d been wearing a blue sweater, and his mind had leapt instantly to pornographic thoughts, which were the safest thoughts he could have around Tess. She was tactless and undignified and spontaneous and out of control, but there was something about her that kept pulling him back to her, and he hoped to hell it was her body, because if it was anything more, he was in big trouble.

Park was still on the trail. “Protesting might not be good. Is it legal?”

Nick slumped back in his chair. “Park, did you pay any attention in law school?”

“Only to the good stuff. I knew I wasn’t going to be defending protesters.” Park frowned at him. “What do you see in this woman?”

Nick started to tell him and then stopped. Park would never understand the attraction of Tess’s cheerfully passionate need to save the world, although he would probably understand the attraction of her cheerfully passionate enthusiasm for life, an enthusiasm that swept away everyone she was with until they almost did incredibly stupid things in Music Hall parking lots….

Back to Park’s question. Stick to the basics. “She has great legs.”

Park put his hand on Nick’s shoulder and gave him a fatherly pat. “That’s not enough to build a relationship on.”

“Oh?” Nick said, surprised at this sudden evidence of depth in his friend. “And what is?”

“Breasts,” Park said, and Nick had the feeling he was only partly joking. “Breasts are very important for women. Their clothes just don’t hang right without them.”

Nick nodded. “Thanks, Dad, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Although she does have excellent legs,” Park went on. “Still, you’re better off without—”

“What were you doing looking at Tess’s legs? I thought you didn’t like her.”

“Trust me, as soon as she opened her mouth, I stopped looking. What did you do—gag her at night?”

Nick briefly considered explaining that he’d never spent the night, and then discarded the idea. It would open a whole new conversational distraction for Park, and after his father’s pep talk, Park was distracted enough already.

Park went back on attack. “You can pull this off for one weekend. Just don’t get Tess to do it. That mouth of hers makes me nervous. She has absolutely no tact, and she always tells the truth no matter who she’s talking to.” He shook his head in disgusted amazement. “Definitely not our kind of people.”

Nick looked at his friend with resignation. “Why do I get the feeling that if I stick with you, one day I’ll wake up with my hair slicked back, wearing red suspenders and muttering, ‘Greed is good’?”

“There’s nothing wrong with greed,” Park said. “In moderation, of course. Now, go get a date for this weekend. And remember Welch is an author. She has to have read something besides the society pages.”

“Really? Then who the hell are you going to bring?” Nick asked.

“Oh. Good point.” Park frowned. “Can you get me a date?”

Two

“Let me get this straight,” Tess said from her armchair when Nick had finished explaining and the only evidence left of the pot stickers was an empty carton and a tangy memory. “You want me to pretend to be your fiancée in order to deceive one of our greatest living American authors so that you can take another step in your drive toward ultimate yuppiehood.” She thought about it for a minute. “This could be good. I could wear an apron.”

Nick looked confused. “No, you couldn’t. This is a very ritzy party. Why would you wear an apron?”

Tess shrugged. “All right, no apron. But it’s your loss.”

Nick shifted slightly. “Tess, concentrate here. I need to look like somebody who is approaching commitment. You need to act like somebody I’d commit to. Can you pull this off?” He squinted at her. “Of course you can’t. Why don’t I ever listen to Park?”

“Because he’s an idiot,” Tess said. “Did he tell you I couldn’t do this? The rat. I know you bonded in college, but haven’t you noticed what a valueless twit he is?”

“Valueless is a little harsh,” Nick said. “Immature, maybe.”

“What did he do? Pull you from a burning building?” Tess shook her head. “Lassie wasn’t this faithful to Timmy.”

“He does all right by me,” Nick said. “And he pulls his own weight with the firm. Park may have his limits, but believe it or not, he’s a genius with contracts. And yes, I owe him. The only reason I’m even with the firm is that Park hauled me in with him.”

“I understand that,” Tess said patiently. “And I admire your loyalty. But since then you’ve pulled him out of a jam how many times? Don’t you think you’re about paid up here? Especially since he’s trashing your fiancée.” When Nick seemed puzzled, she added, “That would be me, remember?”

“Right,” Nick said. “At least, I remember when I thought that was a good idea. Look, I haven’t pulled Park out of a jam that many times. And we’re doing all right together. Hell, we could be rich if we nail this Welch account.”

“You’re already rich,” Tess said. “It’s time to move to a higher plane. Get a new interest. One with values.”

“I have values.” Nick cast a disgusted look around the apartment. “Besides, if this is the kind of life you get for having values, I’ll pass. This place is a dump. And where the hell did you get those sweats, anyway? They’re older than you are.”

“Hey,” Tess said, annoyed at having to defend her sweats yet one more time. “I paid for these with honest money at an honest thrift store.” She stuck her chin in the air. “Just because, unlike you and Park, I don’t buy overpriced running togs that I never run in because I might get sweaty—”

“Wait a minute,” Nick said. “I run.”

But Tess was already warming to the drama of the moment. “—which would be a waste of the ill-gotten gains I used to buy them—”

“I object to the ill-gotten gains—”

“Always a lawyer,” Tess said. “Objection overruled.”

“Look, we don’t cheat widows and orphans or defend rapists or polluters or do any of those other things you tree huggers are always on about,” Nick fumed. “We’re lawyers, not criminals, for cripe’s sake. Cut me a break.”

Tess came down from her high horse. “Sorry. I got a little carried away.” She looked at him, biting her lip. “This is like déjà vu. This is every argument we ever had.”

“I know,” Nick said gloomily. “It was the only good thing about not seeing you anymore. I didn’t have to have this stupid argument.”

“Well, you don’t have to have it now,” Tess said. “The door is over there. And this engagement would never have worked for us, anyway. You wouldn’t have let me wear an apron, and as the years went by, I would have resented it. Then one day, I’d have picked up a meat cleaver and there we’d be, in the National Enquirer, just like John and Lorena Bobbit.” Nick blinked at her, and she took pity on him and dropped her story. “Well, thanks for stopping by. See you.” She waited for him to get up and leave, feeling absolutely miserable for the first time since the last time she’d left him.

Nick put his head against the wall and closed his eyes. “I can’t leave. I need you.” He opened his eyes and met hers squarely. “This could get me a partnership, Tess.”

Tess felt a stab of sympathy for him. “Oh, love. When are you going to stop trying to prove you’re the best? You don’t have to sweat like this anymore. Your picture is on the society page all the time. You’re a Riverbend celebrity. People adore you. You’ve made it.”

Nick shook his head. “Not till I’ve made partner. I know that in your eyes that makes me an immoral, profiteering, capitalist whoremonger, but I will not be happy until I’ve made partner. I’ve worked a long time for this, and I want it.”

“I know.” Tess frowned. “What I don’t know is why Park isn’t giving it to you.”

Nick let his head fall back against the wall again. “Because Park can’t. His father still runs the firm, and Park would walk naked in traffic before he’d confront him or, God forbid, disagree with him. But Park swears his father will retire if we get the Welch account, and then Park can make me partner.”

Tess was confused. “Why doesn’t his father want to make you partner? You’re brilliant. And you practically run that firm now. This doesn’t make sense. You deserve partner.”

“His father cares about background,” Nick said stiffly. “Mine is blue-collar. Not the kind of person to be a partner in a Patterson law firm.”

Tess looked dumbfounded. “You’re kidding. He can’t be that archaic.”

“Sure he can,” Nick said. “It’s his law firm. He can be anything he wants.”

Tess slumped back in her chair and considered Nick and what she owed him. The first time they’d met, he’d knocked her on her butt playing touch football, and then sat on her to make her give up the ball, doing terrible Bogart impressions until she’d surrendered because she was weak from laughing. When she broke up with the guy she’d been dating a month later, she’d called Nick trying not to cry, and he’d brought her chocolate ice cream and Terms of Endearment on video, and then kept her company while she sobbed through the movie. And he’d never said anything about the mascara she’d left all over his shirt. And today he’d known she was upset about something and brought her pot stickers.

On the other hand, he worshiped money and success, and he’d humiliated her by rejecting her in a parking lot.

They were almost even. But not quite. Because no matter how sure she was that she was finished with him as a romantic possibility—and she was pretty sure, she told herself—he was a friend. If friends needed you, you came through. That was the rule.

Tess felt the prison doors begin to close on her. “Oh, damn,” she muttered.

Nick leaned forward and gave her his best smile, the one that made him look boyish and vulnerable. “I have no right to ask you this, but will you do it? For me? Even though you don’t owe me anything?”

Tess bit her lip. He looked so sweet sitting there. And sexy. Of course, she knew that he knew he looked boyish and vulnerable and sweet and sexy because that was the effect he was going for, but deep, deep, deep down inside, he really was a sweet man. He just had a lousy peer group.

And if she did it, she’d get to be with him again.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” Tess said.

Nick slumped in relief. “Thank God.” He grinned up at her. “I don’t suppose you could get Park a date, too? Somebody respectable?”

“You’re kidding.”

“Somebody at the Foundation?” Nick said. “Somebody who reads?”

“I’ll ask around,” Tess said. “I will have to mention that he’s worthless, of course.”

“Great.” Nick stood up to go. “Listen, if there’s anything I can do for you, just name it. I owe you big for this.”

“Good. Introduce me to somebody on the board of the Decker Academy.”

Nick gaped at her. “Why?”

“I lost my job,” Tess said, and Nick sat down again.

“I knew something was wrong. I’m sorry, Tess. What happened?”

“Funding cuts,” Tess said. His sympathy was so unexpectedly comforting that she lost her emotional balance for a moment, but then she took a deep breath and grinned at him. “But it’s all right. I met this really nice man at the last censorship protest.”

Nick scowled at her. “Do not talk to strange men, dummy.”

“And we talked for a long time, and he was darling,” Tess said, ignoring his scowl. “And he said if I ever needed a job, to call him, because I was obviously a great teacher.”

“And this has what to do with the Decker Academy?” Nick said, still scowling.

“He’s in charge of it,” Tess said. “His name is Alan—”

“Sigler,” Nick finished. “He must be sixty. What are you doing flirting with older men?”

“But I told him I don’t have a teaching certificate. And he said that was bad because the board would have to vote to make an exception in my case, and they weren’t very open to change, so I thought if you knew any of them…”

“I do,” Nick said thoughtfully. “In fact, a couple of them may be at this Welch thing this weekend. He’s big on upper-class education for some reason.” He frowned at her. “Dress conservatively. These people are not cutting edge.” He thought for another moment, and Tess watched him contemplate her problem, turning it over in his mind, examining it from every angle as if it was something important to his career, instead of hers, and she felt comforted again. “I’ll do what I can,” he said finally. “I just don’t understand why you want to work at Decker. All those rich kids?”

“The pay is good,” Tess said. “And the school day ends at one o’clock so they can work on special projects or something.”

Nick snorted. “Country Club 101.”

“I don’t care. I could be back at the Foundation by one-thirty. A lot of my kids don’t come in for help until then.”

Nick frowned at her. “Two jobs? What are you trying to do—kill yourself?”

Tess stuck her chin out. “I can’t leave the Foundation. They need me. The kids need me. I know you don’t understand, but they need me.”

Nick was silent for a moment. “All right,” he said finally. “Let me see what I can do.” He stood up and then looked down at her, the worry clear in his eyes. “But you have to promise me that you won’t work yourself into the ground if you get this job.”

Tess bit her lip. “See, this is what makes me crazy about you. Say something materialistic so I can get my guard up again.”

“Your sweats are awful,” Nick said. “But your face looks like a million dollars.” He bent to kiss her, and Tess felt the little shock of lust he always sparked in her as his mouth covered hers and his tongue tickled her lips. He tasted of pot stickers and beer and Nick, and she smiled against his cheek when he moved his head to bite her earlobe.

“Charmer,” she whispered against his ear, and he grinned and kissed her again, and she felt the warmth from his lips seep into her bones.

When he was gone, she stared into space for a while, wondering what she was getting herself into. Nick was a darling, she reminded herself, but he was also dedicated to one person and one person only—Nick. He liked her a lot, but he’d cheerfully dump her in a minute if it meant making partner in that damn firm.

So don’t go fantasizing about him, she told herself sternly. She’d just use him to meet the Decker people and get him to pull any strings he had to get her the job. She wasn’t going to start thinking about his arms again. That always led to scattered thinking, and she still had to decide what to do about Gina, how to protect the other tenants, how to save the Foundation, how to get the job at Decker…

Tess curled up in the chair and put her head on her knees and thought about how good it would feel to be in Nick’s arms again. When her thoughts drifted from security in his arms to making love in his arms, she groaned and reached for the phone and dialed Gina’s number.

No sense in suffering alone.

“You’re gonna do it?” Gina asked when Tess told her about Nick’s proposal.

“Of course I’m going to do it.” Tess cradled the phone to her ear as she slumped back in her chair. “He needs me. He can be a materialistic jerk and a womanizer, but deep inside he’s a nice guy and he needs me.” She shifted in the chair, searching for a better justification for seeing him again. “He probably doesn’t really want to do this. It’s that louse Park.”

Gina sounded doubtful. “I don’t think it’s all this Park’s fault. Nick’s a big boy. He could say no.”

“Nick can’t say no to Park. He’s been baby-sitting Park since college and it’s gotten to be a habit.” Tess’s frown turned into a grin as she thought about it. “You wouldn’t believe how they met.” She sat up in her chair as she warmed to her story. “Nick told me he was tutoring in college as part of a work-study program, and Park showed up, on the verge of getting kicked out of school because of this really important English lit paper he’d flunked. On Moby Dick.”

“That’s the whale, right? I saw the movie.”

“Right,” Tess said. “Only when Park showed Nick the paper, the prof had written across the top of it, ‘Unfortunately, Mr. Patterson, Ahab dies in the end.”’

“Park didn’t know Ahab died?” Gina sounded confused. “He died in the movie.”

“Yeah, he dies in the Cliff Notes, too,” Tess said. “So Nick said he asked Park how he could possibly have missed that part, and Park said that when he was a kid, his parents only bought him educational toys, and one of the games they bought him was the Moby Dick game—”

“The Moby Dick game?”

“—but the game was meant for kids, so in the game—”

“Ahab makes it,” Gina finished.

“Exactly,” Tess said, dissolving into laughter. “And Park wrote the paper based on what he knew from the game. Isn’t that hysterical?”

“No,” Gina said. “I think it’s sad. Why did his parents only buy him educational stuff?”

“Because his parents want him to be God,” Tess said, slumping down in the chair. “And Park doesn’t have the brains to make cherub. So he leans on Nick, and Nick carries the whole firm. And that’s why I hate Park Patterson. If it hadn’t been for Park, Nick would probably have ended up as a district attorney, doing something decent for humanity, instead of running around pampering rich people. He’s so brilliant. It’s such a waste.”

“It’s his choice,” Gina said. “And so is this Welch thing. I don’t think you can blame Park.”

“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.

“Oh…about here,” Nick said, slicing his hand at chin level.

“About five eight,” Christine guessed. “How much does she weigh?”

“I don’t know,” Nick said. “She’s not fat, but she’s upholstered. You know, soft not bony.” He looked confused. “She’s medium.”

“Breasts?” Christine asked.

“Yes.”

“No, how big are they?”

Nick frowned up at her, trying not to think about Tess’s breasts. He had two whole days to get through, and he was distracted enough already. “They’re, uh, sort of more than medium, I guess. Do we have to talk about this?”

“She’s a ten, a twelve or a fourteen.”

“Split the difference—go for the twelve.”

“Fine,” Christine said, and drifted toward the door, the card in her hand.

“Hey,” Nick said. “Would you like some money to pay for this?”

“No,” Christine said at the door. “I’ll put it on your Visa.”

Nick blinked. “Can you do that?”

Christine smiled at him serenely and left.

“Hey, Christine,” Nick called after her. “If you ever turn to a life of crime, remember I was good to you. Christine?”

Nothing but silence answered him, so he returned to the problem at hand. How much of a liability was Tess going to be at this party? The more he thought about it, the more depressed he got. Asking Tess had been dumb, and sticking her in an expensive black dress was not going to help things much. Not unless he got her an expensive black gag to go with it. This is what happens when you let your emotions take over, he railed at himself. Just because he wanted to see her again—only all of her this time—he’d asked her to a career-making weekend. The career comes first, he reminded himself. Don’t forget that again.

Then he went back to worrying.

LATER THAT AFTERNOON, the glitziest department store in town delivered a package to Tess.

The underfed messenger pumped his Adam’s apple nervously as he stood in the hall outside her apartment. “Jeez, lady,” he said. “You really live here?”

“Don’t be a wimp,” Tess told him, but she tipped him more than she could afford anyway, resisting the impulse to offer him food instead. Then she took the box into the apartment and opened it.

Nick had sent her a black crepe dress. It came below her knee and laced at the sides with black crepe laces that blended so well with the fabric that they were practically invisible. The dress was beautifully if conservatively cut, and Tess hated it on sight. When she tried it on, she hated it even more. It fit perfectly when the laces were loosened, and it made her look respectable and successful. She wanted to kill Nick, but she called Gina to come over instead.

“Stop bitching,” Gina told her when she got to Tess’s apartment. “He probably knew you didn’t have anything for this kind of shindig. He was being thoughtful.”

“Wait’ll you see this thing,” Tess said, dragging her into the bedroom.

But all Gina said when she saw the dress was, “It’s beautiful. It really was thoughtful, Tess.”

“Thoughtful, my hat. He’s being patronizing. He thinks I don’t have anything decent.”

Gina looked around Tess’s bedroom, which was furnished with a creaky bed, a dozen thrift-store pillows and Angela, and raised an eyebrow at her.

Tess grinned and flapped a hand. “That’s not what I meant. I meant he’s assuming I didn’t have anything decent to wear.”

“You don’t.” Gina dropped onto the bed and looked at the dress wistfully before she returned to her attack. “Look, Tess, he did his laundry with you. He knows what your clothes look like. He knows what you dress like. He did you a favor. What’d the card say?”

“What card?”

“There must have been a card.” Gina sounded exasperated as she reached for the box and pawed through the tissue paper until she found it. “Got it. It says…” She hesitated while she pulled it out. “It says, ‘I saw this and knew you’d look great in it. Thank you for saving my life. Nick.”’ Gina frowned at Tess. “And you’re not planning on hanging on to him? You’re nuts. I’d kill to have somebody write me cards like this.”

“That’s because you don’t know him like I do,” Tess grumbled. “I mean, look at this dress. Nancy Reagan would love this dress. He’s trying to make me a Republican for the weekend.”

“Nancy Reagan dressed great,” Gina said. “You’re such a bigot. If it’s Republican, you want to burn a cross in the yard. Shape up.” She looked at the dress wistfully again. “It would be nice to have clothes like that, you know? Real clothes, not just cheap stuff.”

Tess looked at the dress dubiously. “I suppose so.” She pulled at it a little, growing more cheerful as she studied it. “It’s just one night. And then maybe I can change the laces to red and lower the neckline.”

“And put a slit up the side and pretend you’re Suzie Wong,” Gina added. “Why don’t you just give respectability a try?”

“Never,” Tess said. “You’ll know I’m dead when I start acting respectable.”

“Somehow I’m not worried,” Gina said. “Listen, all I’ve got for this thing is my black jersey dress. You know, the one with the belt? Is that gonna be okay?”

“Sure.” Tess shrugged. “You look great in everything.”

“It’s not like this,” Gina said, fingering the material of Tess’s dress one more time before she let go. “It’s not the kinda dress that people just look at and know it’s a good dress.”

“Gina, you look so darling in everything you put on that people don’t care what you’re wearing.” Tess hung the dress on the back of the closet door. “Forget about your dress. You’ll look great. Nick’s picking me up at four. You’re riding with Park, right?”

“You’re not going to be late, are you?” Gina said, sudden panic making her voice sharp. “Please.”

“You’re not even riding down with us,” Tess said. “What difference does it make to you whether I’m late or not?”

“All those people.” Gina clutched her hands together. “I want them to think I’m classy. I need you near me.”

“Not if you want people to think you’re classy,” Tess said, and shut the closet door on the Nancy Reagan dress.

NICK WAS NOT at all surprised that Tess wasn’t home when he came to pick her up on Friday afternoon. He put his suitcase by the door and rang the bell, and when there was no answer, he leaned against the wall to wait. Tess was always late because she always got caught up in the drama of the moment wherever she was. Time was relative to Einstein and Tess alike.

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 careercomes 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?”

TESS LOOKED BACK at him reluctantly, already knowing she was lost. He was beautiful, neatly pressed into a suit that evidently had no seams at all, every strand of his dark hair immaculately in place. Only his face betrayed any sign of human weakness, mainly because he was grinning at her. It was that grin that got her every time. The suit and the haircut belonged to Nick the lawyer, the yuppie materialist. Him, she could resist, no problem. But the grin belonged to Nick the guy who watched old movies with her and handed her tissues when she cried. It belonged to Nick the guy who did the worst Bogart imitation in the world and who knew it and did it anyway. It belonged to Nick the guy who’d gotten one of her students out of trouble with the police when he’d been caught vandalizing the school, and who’d then put the fear of God into the kid so he’d never pick up another can of spray paint again.

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.

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