Complicated (4 page)

 “All right. All right.” Jeanie muttered
under her breath. “But sometimes complications are fun.”

***

That afternoon, Victoria was heading back to
her office when she noticed that no one was behind the check-out desk and two
female students were waiting with books in their hands. The workstudy student
usually handled check-outs, but Victoria walked over to the desk and smiled a
greeting at the students.

“Sorry you had to wait. Did you want to
check those out?”

The taller girl handed the books to
Victoria. The girl looked like a freshman, although sometimes it was hard to
tell the difference. She was young and pretty—with dark hair, brown eyes, and a
slim figure. Something about the line of her jaw struck Victoria as familiar.

Instead of returning her smile, the girl
just stared at her intently, her eyes taking in the wrinkled vintage suit, the
small glasses, and the Mary Jane heels. “Are you Victoria Ray?”

Victoria blinked. “Yes. I am. Can I help
you?”

The girl’s blank stare transformed into a glare
of cold resentment. “You must be the bitch who’s fucking my dad.”

Victoria’s mouth dropped open.

Her life had just gotten complicated.

“I’m not mad at her,” Victoria insisted,
pushing her hair behind her ear distractedly. It was long—falling down to the
middle of her back—and she was used to pulling it back in a chignon. She’d let
it down when she was finally able to take a shower after work, and she hadn’t
had time to put it back up before Greg had stopped by her apartment.

He’d never been to her apartment before. But
after getting the nearly incoherent message she’d left him this afternoon, he’d
evidently decided it would be wise to stop by on his way home.

“I just don’t want her to be mad at
me
.”
Victoria was wearing a clingy bathrobe, which was more than she’d been wearing
last night. But she still felt self-conscious and undressed next to Greg in his
expensive gray business suit and red tie.

“She’s not mad at you,” Greg began, reaching
out to put a conciliatory hand on her shoulder.

She jerked away from his touch, unable to
explain her defensive reaction. “She called me a bitch. There was nothing
ambiguous about it.”

Greg’s mouth twisted, and he pushed a hand
through his dark hair in obvious frustration. “She was upset. It’s not personal.”

“It felt personal to me,” Victoria snapped.
“I’m the one who’s fucking her dad!”

She couldn’t read Greg’s expression. He
stared at her, something tense and reluctant in his eyes.

He looked so handsome and affluent and
mature—nothing like the boys she used to date—and she had a horrible suspicion
about what he was going to say to her now.

She didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to
hear him tell her they had to end their affair because his daughter couldn’t
accept it.

But she also didn’t want the heavy weight in
her stomach, the sign that sex with Greg had brought more than pleasure and
excitement after all.

With a choked sound in her throat, she
turned on her heel and moved into the main room of her apartment. She headed
over to her desk and pretended to sort a pile of books, although she couldn’t
even read the titles printed on their spines.

Her eyes burned and her throat ached. And
she didn’t understand how her casual fling had turned into this mess in less
than two hours.

“Victoria,” Greg said, following her into
the room and standing behind her when she didn’t turn around. “Let’s at least
talk about it.”

“What’s to talk about?” Her voice was shriller
than she’d intended, and it only got shriller as she added, “I didn’t even know
you
had
a daughter.”

She’d probably heard he had a daughter—years
ago when the name Greg Stone meant nothing to her—but she’d never made the
connection in the last three months. If he was vigilant about his own privacy,
he must have been even more vigilant about his daughter’s.

“I wasn’t hiding her from you,” he said
softly. “I keep her out of the press on purpose, and we just never talked about
that kind of thing.”

“I know.” Swallowing hard, she controlled
her expression and turned around. “I’m not blaming you or anything. It was just
really upsetting. I’m the kind of person who always avoids confrontation.  She…she
hated
me. I’ve always been a normal, harmless person. I’m not used to
people hating me.”

She’d always been quiet, smart, and a little
aloof. But mostly harmless—keeping her opinions to herself. She didn’t like conflict,
and meeting Greg’s daughter had totally thrown her off-balance.

“She doesn’t hate you,” Greg insisted,
holding her by the shoulders. “I’m serious. She’s upset. She found out on her
own and thinks I’ve been hiding it from her. I guess I have. But how exactly
was I supposed to tell her…” His voice trailed off, and he shook his head.
“She’s angrier with me than with you. Ever since her mom died, I’m all she’s
had.”

“How did she even find out?” She’d assumed Greg
wouldn’t have told his daughter intentionally.

You didn’t tell your daughter that you were
having meaningless sex with a woman twelve years younger than you.

“I guess she has a friend who works the
front desk at the hotel.” Greg closed his eyes and tugged at his hair. “Last
night.”

“Oh.”

“It will take her a little time to adjust.
But I’ve talked to her, and I’ll talk to her again. She’s not a child anymore,
and she has to know I’ve not lived like a monk since her mom died.”

Victoria groaned in mortification and turned
around again to face the pile of books on her desk.

She could imagine very vividly how Greg’s
daughter must feel. What she must think of Victoria. How she must resent her.
Victoria would have felt the same if she’d been in the girl’s situation.

Victoria couldn’t believe she’d turned into
this woman.

“I’m not going to come in between you and
your daughter,” she said, her voice oddly hoarse.

“You won’t. We would have needed to work
this out anyway—no matter who I happened to be with.” He took a step forward
until he was pressed against her back. Wrapping his arms around her, he
murmured, “Nothing needs to change between you and me.”

Victoria gave an undignified snort, even as
she instinctively relaxed back into his strong embrace. He felt so big and warm
and solid behind her, and he smelled so incredible—masculine and faintly
expensive. “It
has
changed. I never thought of you as a father before.”

“I am a father,” he admitted, rubbing his
jaw against her cheek. He was bristly again, as he always was in the evenings. She
loved the way it felt when his rough skin scraped against hers. “But I’ve been
one for as long as you’ve known me, and this has never been about who we are
when we’re not together.”

It was true. And it was oddly freeing at the
same time it felt like a kick in the gut.

This was just physical. Just sex.

And it didn’t matter who Greg was when they
weren’t fucking—whether he had a family she hadn’t thought about, what he was
like at work, what he did on Saturdays, whether he liked to watch sports on TV.

None of that mattered, any more than her
life mattered to him.

All that had ever mattered was the sex.

That was what both of them had agreed to.

That was what she’d wanted.

And the strange ache of loss in her belly
was completely irrational.

“Right.”

He kissed her jaw. Then the side of her
throat. And one of his hands moved up to her breast.

“Greg, I don’t really feel like it tonight.”

His hand moved back down to her waist, but
he didn’t remove his arms from around her.

“I’m not being bitchy or anything. I was just
really upset earlier and don’t feel sexy tonight.”

“Okay,” Greg said.

She waited, somehow sure that he’d withdraw,
that he was going to end this after all. What he wanted from her was sex and—if
he couldn’t get it when he wanted—why would he even bother?

He was silent for a long moment, during
which she could hear her heart pounding in her chest.

Finally he said, “Do you want to spend the
weekend with me?”

Victoria stiffened and looked over her
shoulder to stare at him in astonishment.

Greg frowned, looking a little uncomfortable
at her obvious shock. “I just thought maybe it would give you time to adjust.
You could come to my place.”

She almost choked. “To your place? With your
daughter?”

“Fuck, no,” Greg said hoarsely. “She’s in
college. She’s lived in the dorms for two years. Besides, she’s going on a
weekend trip. I have the place to myself.”

This news reassured Victoria, and she was
immediately tempted to accept. Spending the weekend with Greg—just the two of
them—sounded like heaven.

But going to his place might change things.
Might make everything more of a tangle.

She needed to be honest with herself, and
that kind of weekend had the potential to raise expectations in her that could
never materialize.

But he didn’t want to end this. He wanted to
spend the weekend with her.

She
wanted to spend the weekend with
him.

She’d just need to be careful and realistic
about the whole thing.

“Okay,” she agreed, her voice cracking a
little.

“Good.” He brushed his lips against her
loose, blonde hair and inhaled deeply, as if he was smelling it.

It caused the most inexplicable sensation in
Victoria’s belly—half-thrill and half-terror.

“You should wear your hair down more often,”
he added, finally releasing his hold on her waist. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks.” She smiled despite herself. “Sorry
I kind of freaked out.”

“I’m sorry you had to learn about my
daughter that way. She’s a little spoiled, but she’s a nice girl. She’ll come
around.”

Victoria showed him to the door, feeling
exhausted, confused, and kind of fluttery.

She got even flutterier when Greg stood in
the doorway staring at her before she closed the door.

His look was so intent, so deep, that she
squirmed and finally asked, “What?”

Greg shook his head slowly. “Victoria,
there’s nothing harmless about you.”

She swung the door shut in a panic with only
a mumbled “Good night.”

Then spent the rest of the evening trying to
figure out what he’d meant.

***

On Friday evening, she showed up at his
house—a gorgeous, colonial style residence in one of the exclusive
neighborhoods outside the city. She was armed with her weekend bag and a
no-nonsense attitude.

She was going to enjoy this relationship for
what it was—great sex with a desirable man—and not let anything else get in the
way.

She’d spent her whole life over-thinking
things, talking herself out of taking any risks. Investing herself in
relationships that would only hurt her, the way she’d done with Mark. And she
wasn’t going to do that now.

There was nothing wrong with good, simple
sex. She was going to indulge in it when it was offered.

They ate dinner and had sex Friday night.
Then they slept in late and spent a leisurely Saturday morning in bed, drinking
coffee and having sex again with slow, easy languor. It was after noon when
they finally managed to get up.

Greg went to take a shower while Victoria
went into the kitchen to find something to eat.

As long as they’d been in bed, Victoria had
felt safe and comfortable. A bed was a bed, whether it was in a hotel or in
Greg’s home.

But the rest of the house made her nervous.
There were family photos she was afraid to look at, books lying around that
Greg must read in his spare time, unexpected details like an aquarium full of
tropical fish and a half-finished list in the kitchen that looked like things
he was reminding himself to get at the store.

Greg lived here every day. It felt private,
domestic, intimate.

But it didn’t feel safe. Partly because this
was the rest of Greg’s life that she had no claim to, and partly because she
couldn’t get his daughter out of her mind. The girl had lived here too and probably
stopped by quite often to say hi to her dad or do her laundry for free.

Who knew how often Greg’s daughter had
opened this refrigerator door and peered inside, just like Victoria was doing
now.

When she heard a sound behind her, she
gasped and whirled around.

“What?” Greg demanded, frowning at her. His
hair was still damp, and he was wearing a pair of black sweat pants riding low
on his lean hips. “You look like you were expecting a burglar.”

“Sorry. I thought you were still in the
shower.” Victoria flushed a little and turned back around to stare into the
refrigerator again.

When his arm twined around her from behind,
she stiffened.

“Why are you so uptight?”

He sounded completely relaxed and
comfortable—as if he had no worries in the world. As if he weren’t uncertain
about their relationship the way she was. As if it didn’t matter to him that
she was here in the kitchen of his house. As if it weren’t an intrusion into
his domestic world.

Irrationally, his relaxed attitude annoyed
Victoria. He clearly had no idea how she was feeling. Scowling, she pulled out
of his grasp and poured herself a glass of orange juice.

“Victoria, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing. I’m starving. Do you have anything
to eat?”

“I can make waffles.” He grabbed a big bowl
from the baker’s rack and walked by her to put it on the counter. As he did, he
gave the back of her camisole a teasing tug down. It had been riding up,
exposing a strip of skin around her middle, where her top didn’t quite reach
her matching shorts.

“Waffles would be good.” She smiled at him,
feeling bad for being so grumpy. It wasn’t his fault she was so on edge. She
reminded herself that his daughter was out of town for the weekend, and they
had the house to themselves. “Do you want some orange juice?”

“Sure.” He lazily started mixing
ingredients, looking adorably incongruous doing such a domestic chore. He was
so masculine, with his broad shoulders, strong back, and the darkly shadowed
lower half of his face. It seemed impossible that he’d be making her waffles.

“You need to shave.”

His eyebrows lifted suggestively. “I thought
maybe you like it when I don’t.”

Wrinkling her nose, she lied, “As if I’d
like to feel like you’re taking sandpaper to my poor skin.”

His lips twitched knowingly. “Right.”

Since he was looking far too smug, she
sniffed, “You’ve got flour on your chest.”

He glanced down and shrugged.

Putting down her glass with a giggle, she
went over and brushed it off for him. Her fingers ran over the hair on his
chest. She’d always thought she’d prefer artificially smooth male chests, but
she’d been crazy. Nothing was sexier than this course, dark hair. It wasn’t too
thick or unsightly. Just enough to add the most enticing kind of texture to the
smooth planes and rippled muscles.