Animal Instincts (12 page)

“Hey.” Kera turned away from us to scrutinize a bubble-knit shirt. “I’ve met Colin. He was at the wedding I catered for that girl, Denise…Danny? What was her name?”

“Daisy.” I nodded. “That’s the one. His sister.”

“You’ll like him, Mel,” Kera said. “He’s more than cute. He’s scrumptiously sexy.”

Mel crossed her arms over her chest, her red manicured fingernails tapping on her slender biceps. “If he’s so sexy, why didn’t either of you go out with him?”

“He didn’t ask us,” I said.

“That’s not a point in his favor. In fact, that proves he’s a very foolish man.”

“You happen to like foolish men,” Kera reminded her.

Mel smiled. “You’re right. When do I get to meet him?”

“Don’t know,” I said. “I’ll have to work it out somehow.”

We resumed our shopping and I soon found a pair of pants I knew both my cousins would approve of. Extra-tight and black, with ribbons of red, pink and yellow orchids sewn up the bottom left seam. I wanted them. Badly. And not because Royce thought I smelled like orchids. They were pretty, that’s all.
And easily removable.

“This is so cool.” Kera clapped her hands, jumping up and down in a little dance. “Oh, I’m so excited for both of you. All right, girls,” she said when she settled down. “We came here to shop and that’s exactly what we’re going to do. Now that Naomi’s hormones have decided to come out and play, we need a few more items for her seduction arsenal. Let’s get to work.”

L
ATER THAT NIGHT
, I lay in bed and considered the outfits I’d purchased—one green sundress (Kera insisted), an ice-blue miniskirt with matching tank top, and a blood-red pantsuit—as well as a red lace nightie. And the black pants, of course.

What would Royce do when he saw me wearing them? Would his eyes heat like they did when he wanted to kiss me? Would he become desperate to tear the clothes off me?

The image had me aching again, hungry. I rolled to my side and stared out my bedroom window, drawing in cleansing breaths. The night sky was as black and silky as velvet, the stars tiny pinpricks of diamond light. So beautiful and peaceful. But some
times I hated these nights alone with nothing to do but think.

I wanted to talk to Royce, to hear his sexy, seductive voice, but that was tantamount to relationship behavior so I nixed that idea immediately. I’d sleep with him, yes. Entrench him in my life and rely on him, no. I wanted to hear his voice so badly, though, that I started trembling. My blood heated, growing hotter and hotter. I moaned.

I decided to call my mom. Yes, my mom. If anything could get my mind off naked bodies and phone sex,
she
could. Leaning over to my nightstand, I palmed my cordless phone and quickly dialed her number. As I settled back into the covers, she answered.

“Hello?” My mom sounded grumpy and sleepy and wonderful all at once.

I smiled, feeling calmer already. “Hello to you, too.”

“Naomi?” There was a pause and I pictured her jolting up. “Is something wrong? What’s wrong? I know something’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong, I swear. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Gloria, what’s going on? What’s wrong?” my stepdad said in the background.

“It’s Naomi. She says she’s just calling to chat.”

“To chat? At this hour? Something’s wrong. What’s wrong?”

My mom sighed. “I don’t know. Give me a minute to find out.”

“Fine, but I want to talk to her when you’re done.”

I rolled my eyes. Ah, this crazy couple could always usher me back to a sense of normalcy.

“Now, why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you, darling,” my mom said to me. “You never call this late.”

“I need your advice.” The words tumbled out of me before I could stop them. “How can a girl know if a man will treat her right? If he’ll be faithful to her?”

She gasped with excitement. “Are you thinking about getting married again?”

“No, nothing like that,” I rushed out. “I’m just curious about how you knew Jonathan wouldn’t turn out like Dad.” Slap her around. Cheat on her. Verbally abuse her. How did she ever place her trust in another man’s hands?

“I didn’t,” my mom said. “I couldn’t. I could only hope.”

I
gasped this time. “Mom, I expected you to give me a pep talk. To tell me there’s a man out there who will love me and treat me right and never cheat on me.”

“You didn’t let me finish. There
is
a man out there for you. Will he treat you right? Not always. Will he cheat? Only time can tell. Things happen and people do change.” Her voice raised bitterly. “Even Jonathan and I have our problems.”

Every muscle in my body froze at the implication of her words. Was she trying to tell me something? She and Jonathan rarely fought. Mom had probably meant they were having problems about who should
do the dishes or something equally innocent. That’s all. Over the years, Jonathan had proven himself to be a good guy. Even though I’d accused him for so many years of just pretending. I’d expected him to one day morph into a beast, but he never had. Gradually, my body relaxed.

“Now, Gloria. Naomi doesn’t need to know our problems.” Static filled the line as my stepdad claimed the phone. “Naomi, Jonathan here. Marriage is a wonderful thing. You know I don’t believe in divorce and always discourage my patients from taking that route.”

Yes, I’d heard his thoughts on the matter a thousand times over the last few months. He thought I should give Richard the Bastard yet another chance. Maybe I should have told him everything Richard had done to me. Maybe I should have explained just how deeply I’d been hurt. But I hadn’t. Yes, I’d given him and my mom a glimpse, but never the harshest of the reality. I hadn’t wanted the people I most respected to know how stupid I’d been. How utterly foolish.

“Are you considering going back to Richard?” he asked.

“My answer is the same as the last time you asked me. Hell, no.”

“Oh,” he said, disappointment loud and clear in his tone.

My hand clenched on the phone and a spark of fury sprang to life. “You’re so eager for me to take him back, but you didn’t live with him.” Perhaps I
should
forget my pride for a moment and give Jonathan more than a glimpse. “You didn’t have to endure total humiliation at his hands. What if I told you Richard had tried to kill me during our marriage?” My tone was hard, unbending, and for the first time in my life, I actually felt like a true Tigress.

“I’d—I’d say you had every right to leave him,” Jonathan blustered. “But he didn’t. Richard is not a violent man.”

“He didn’t try to kill me physically, no. He simply tried to kill my emotions. My self-esteem. He cheated on me, Jonathan. Over and over again. He left me broke. He made me feel worthless. Isn’t that just as bad?”

Jonathan sputtered. “I’m—I’m sorry, Naomi. I didn’t know.”

My anger drained away. This man really did love me. He’d raised me from nine on and he’d always treated me like a daughter. He did want what was best for me.

Another burst of static erupted as my mom grabbed the phone. “Naomi, dear. I heard what you said. You did the right thing leaving Richard. I hope he rots in hell.”

“Thank you, Mom. That means a lot to me.”

“Have you found a new man, then? Is that the reason for this call?”

“No,” I lied, and that single word settled like lead in my stomach. Royce
was
a new man, a new temptation. A new everything.

“I can always tell when you’re lying. Your voice gets higher. Meet me at Holy Grounds tomorrow.
Eight a.m.” She sounded like a drill sergeant, expecting absolute compliance with her orders. “We need some mother-daughter time.”

“I will.” I didn’t even think about refusing. Besides, I wanted to see her. I loved my mom and didn’t spend enough time with her. “G’night, Mom.”

“Night, dear.”

I hung up the phone and flopped onto my bed. I blinked up at the ceiling. All right. Well. Now my long, sleepless night could officially begin.

T
HE NEXT MORNING, A LITTLE
before eight, I found myself sitting alone at the coffee shop, waiting for my mom. I’d left that damn beeping BlueJay at home. I was
this
close to flushing it down the toilet. “Stupid BJ,” I muttered.
That’s
the name it really deserved.

Vanilla and cinnamon flavored the air, blending with the scent of fresh baked breads. I swirled a spoon in my mocha latte and watched as people sauntered past my table.

I didn’t want to be here. Last night I’d wanted to see my mom. Today I didn’t. God knows I didn’t want
to answer questions about my love life, didn’t want to discuss the merits of love and marriage. And that’s why she’d called this meeting, I knew it was.

Why in the world had I opened that topic for discussion?

Was I an idiot?

Wait, maybe I shouldn’t answer that.

Mom had called me early this morning to make sure I remembered our meeting. She’d done it on purpose, making sure I was too groggy to think up a good excuse to avoid her.

Smart woman, my mom.

Finally, she arrived, only fifteen minutes late. Better than usual. My mom had no concept of time, really. Throughout my childhood, she’d made me late for everything. Birthday parties, cheerleading camp, hell, even school. I’d always gotten lukewarm, leftover food at the parties, missed exciting games and never learned the right cheers. Come to think of it, maybe that was when my obsession with punctuality had started.

“Why are you wearing that color?” was the first thing she said, taking the seat across from me. She was an attractive woman in her early fifties. Short brown hair, eyes that were a mix of brown and gray—and filled with a kind of sadness and vulnerability I hadn’t seen in a long time. Her slight build and petite height gave her a damsel-in-distress vibe.

“Are you all right?” I asked, concern growing.

She waved away my words and the action wafted a sweet fragrance of lilies in my direction. Lily was
her favorite scent. Every time I’d cried over a boy, she’d wrapped her arms around me comfortingly and that smell had surrounded me.

“You should be wearing green,” she said. “To match your eyes.”

“In case you never noticed, my eyes are gray.”

“Never mind that,” she said, once again waving my words away. “That brown washes out your skin tone.”

Why was she so concerned about my clothing choices? That was completely unlike her. “I like to look washed out,” I said dryly. “Otherwise people are intimidated by my glorious beauty.”

Her lips pressed together to prevent a smile. “Do you sass everyone this way, or just me? Never mind. I’m just glad you’re doing it. I was afraid Richard had killed your spirit. Anyway, we were talking about your clothes and the fact that you should be wearing something green.”

My eyes widened as it suddenly hit me. I almost groaned. She knew about Royce. That was the only explanation for this bizarre behavior.

She confirmed my suspicions with her next words. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re working with Royce Powell?”

Because I didn’t want to,
I silently answered. To her, I said, “How did you know about my job with Mr. Powell?”

“Mr. Powell, is it?” She tapped her pink oval fingernail against the table surface. “That’s not what the
Tattler
says you call him.”

I jolted to a perfectly aligned position any chiro
practor would have applauded. “The
Tattler
has an article about me and Royce?”

“That’s why I’m late. I saw the tabloid at a newsstand and almost died.” Her pretty face scrunched with distaste. She pulled the tabloid from her purse and slid it across the table. The front page glared up at me.

It was a picture of me walking out of my apartment building. I looked…bad. Really bad. My face was all puckered up like I’d just sucked down two dozen lemons without a breath in between. My hair was anchored back in my usual twist, except my shadow made the twist look eight times larger, reminding me of Marge Simpson.

The caption read Has Royce Powell Been Brainwashed by Alien Female?

Mortification washed through me and I wanted to slink down in my chair. My cheeks reddened. My only hope was that I looked so hideous in the picture that no one would recognize me in person.

“Really, Naomi. Couldn’t you have smiled at the photographer or something? You look…I don’t even want to say it.”

Not wanting to draw undue attention to myself, I kept my voice down. “I didn’t know anyone was taking my picture.”

She frowned and shook her head. “Sweetie, you need to be more aware of your surroundings. It’s dangerous to be so oblivious to what’s going on around you. A thief could run off with your purse or something.”

As if I didn’t know that.

“Don’t feel bad,” my mom added. “You’re not the only poor female caught on film with Royce.”

My shoulders straightened. “What! What other woman?” That bastard!

She blinked. “Well, this one.” She tapped the corner of the paper and my gaze darted there. Royce stood next to Gwendolyn Summers, the gorgeous, leggy brunette he’d been photographed with before. They were in formal wear, looking fancy. Perfect together. Pieces of a well-matched puzzle.

What were they doing together yet again? Was Royce dating her? He’d told me she was only a friend. It was none of my business if he
was
dating her, but damn him to the hottest fires of hell! He’d asked me to marry him. He’d kissed me. Twice. He said he loved me. What a scum, rat, dog bastard. I wouldn’t sleep with him now if I was dying and the only thing that could save me was a penis injection from him.

The sound of crumpling paper filled my ears and I realized I was gripping the tabloid too tightly. I also realized another photographer could be here, too, waiting to snap another shot of me. Immediately I pasted a pleasant, I’m-so-happy-and-not-a-hideous-monster smile on my face. I glanced around the room, showing that smile to everyone who looked in my direction.

My mom eyed me as if I’d suddenly sprouted braided nose hair. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” I said, still gazing around the coffee shop, trying to spot any suspicious characters. No one seemed out of the ordinary. No one sported a camera.

“Naomi, sweetheart, your face looks…I don’t know, frozen. And that’s the fakest grin I’ve ever seen.”

I would have glowered at her but I didn’t want to spoil my nonchalant expression. “What did you want to meet me for? And don’t tell me it’s because you were worried about me. I’ve already told you there’s nothing wrong.”

“Can’t I see my daughter for no other reason than that I miss her?”

No. There was always a reason. I decided to turn this around and aim the spotlight at her. Still smiling, of course. “Why don’t you tell me why you look so sad, hmm?”

“I do
not
look sad.” She assumed an airy pose, though it clearly took a concentrated effort on her part. “I was just curious about your social life, is all. You call me in the middle of the night, asking about love and marriage, and now I learn you’re working for Royce Powell. Are you considering marriage to him?”

“Not even if it would save my soul from roasting in hell!”
Smile,
I reminded myself. I bared my teeth in what I hoped was a happy grin.

“Well.” Her pointed stare bore into me, probing deep and completely unnerving me as only my mom could. “Are you? Be honest this time.”

“No.”
Smile, damn it.
“Of course not.”

“Why not? And stop smiling like that.”

I allowed my facial features to relax, but only slightly. “You know why.”

“Because you saw him in a picture with that
Summers woman? Or because of Richard the Bastard?” She scowled. “Jonathan might not have seen the way Richard changed you, but I did, and every day I curse that lying scumbag to everlasting hell for what he did to my baby’s hopes and dreams. You’re a beautiful, intelligent woman and you should be—”

A waiter appeared, cutting off the rest of her sentence. What had she been about to say? That I should be comfortable with the idea of marriage? If so, I didn’t know what I could say in response. Once, I
did
have dreams of marriage, children and happily ever after. When Royce said every girl pictured herself in a wedding dress, walking down the aisle to pledge herself to the man she loved, he’d been right in my case, though I’d never admit it to him. I’d wanted those things at one time, very badly. Now I wanted to rely only on myself. I wanted to be happy because
I
made myself happy.

I sipped my latte while my mom ordered an espresso. The second the waiter moved away, she picked up our conversation but maneuvered it down a different path.

“I have something to ask you, Naomi, and I want you to tell me the truth. I won’t be upset, I swear.”

Oh Jeez. This didn’t sound good. “All right,” I said, bracing myself for impact. “I’ll be honest with you.” Maybe.

She sucked in a breath, paused, then swallowed. Sucked in another breath. Swallowed again.

“Out with it,” I cried.

“Are you gay?”

“Mother!” My mouth dropped open and I sat for a long while in stunned disbelief. Only the thought that someone could take a picture of me looking like that snapped me out of it. “Why would you ask me something like that?” First Royce and now my mom. What kind of come-and-get-me-ladies vibe was I putting out there?

“I’m just curious, sweetie. Since your breakup with Richard the Bastard, you’ve become a dating recluse. Jonathan tells me this is a definite sign that you hate men.”

Little Johnnie was a regular pain in my ass. I think he lived for analyzing every moment of my existence.

“Jonathan also says Richard the Bastard was a smoke screen,” my mom finished.

“A smoke screen?” I asked, not sure I wanted to hear the reasoning behind this little gem.

“You know.” She motioned with her hands. “A device used to fool those around you into believing what you want them to believe, and not what is the actual truth.” That was a direct quote from Jonathan, I knew. I could almost hear his “helpful” voice while my mother spoke, as if she were channeling him.

Sweet Jesus, this was too much.

“I’m not into women, Mom. I really do like men.”

Doubtful, she gazed down at the table. “If you’re sure—”

“I’m sure. I want to have sex with men.” God, I couldn’t believe we were having this conversation.

“All right,” she said on a sigh, “I believe you.”

Her coffee was delivered, and she stared down at the cup for a long while. Another sigh slipped from her lips a split second before her face crumbled. “I think Jonathan is cheating on me.”

The blurted words hit me like a disco globe falling from a domed ceiling. I’d expected this type of announcement in the first several years of their marriage. Not now. Fury blazed a hungry path through every part of me, even hotter and darker than when I’d first found out about Richard. For my mom’s sake, I didn’t allow it to emerge. Not yet. She needed comfort right now, not rage. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I don’t know what to do.” Tears gleamed in her eyes, making the hazel irises look like swirling pools of brown and silver.

“Why do you think he’s seeing someone else?”

“It all started when he bought me that damn lamp for my birthday. What woman wants a practical household item as her present?”

“No woman I know.”

“He should have known better. But I think I nagged him about it too much because after that, he started coming home late. And he’s been making secret phone calls. I know because he slithers out of bed when he thinks I’m asleep and goes into another room with his cell phone. Some evenings he even stinks of some musky bouquet-type perfume. You know I’d never wear anything like that. I wear lilies. Lilies!”

I somehow managed to retain a neutral expression.
Inside, however, the fury bubbled and churned with greater force. I was a seething cauldron, ready to erupt. The late nights, the secret phone calls, the different perfumes…those had been the early signs with Richard.

“Maybe I drove him to it, it’s just—it’s just—” She wiped at her tears with a shaky hand. “I never thought he’d be like your father.”

At first, I’d allowed myself to make excuses. Working late. Business emergency. A freak perfumed breeze that stuck to his clothes. When the excuses no longer worked, I’d blamed myself. I wouldn’t let my mom do the same. Not this time, anyway. If he hadn’t died of a heart attack, my mom would still be with my real dad.

Reaching out, I covered her hand with mine. “There’s not a reason good enough for a man to cheat. Ever. It’s his fault, his lack of integrity. Not yours.”

“What should I do?” she whispered brokenly. “I can’t go through this again.”

“You need to hire a private investigator ASAP and catch him in the act.”

“I don’t know.” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, refusing to meet my gaze. “What if I’m wrong?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

“I don’t know,” she repeated.

“Will you have any respect for yourself if you do nothing? You did nothing with Daddy. You saw what Richard’s affairs did to me. Don’t let this beat you down. Be strong and take action.”

“I—I just…”

I knew what that wavering meant, so I pounced on
it before she could completely absolve the man. “If you don’t want to hire a private investigator, don’t. But I’m going to follow him.”

She frowned and finally faced me. The tears were gone, at least. “Really, Naomi. Be serious.”

“I’m dead serious.” I was going to nail the bastard in more ways than one. Lie to my mom, would he? Cheat on my mom, would he? He’d picked the wrong girls to screw with. Detective Delacroix. That was me.

My mom pressed her lips together and reached out with her free hand, skimming her fingertips over my jaw. Tenderness shone from her features. “I’ve always thought of myself as the strong one for what I survived, but it’s you. You’re the one with true strength. Look at you, ready to defend my honor.”

I glanced down at the table surface, beading with rings of moisture from our cups. Her praise caused my chest to constrict. She was wrong, but her words pleased me nonetheless. “I’m trying,” I said.