Not My Type (11 page)

When finally Monday rolled around, Joe
drove Elsa to the restaraunt and grabbed a bar stool from the
lounge. He was like sex incarnate, perched on his seat with one
long, muscular leg stretched out in front of him, arms folded
across his chest, his back up against the wall near the doorway to
the kitchen. He was very distracting but she managed to get
everything set up, in between stolen kisses and hot caresses,
before Martha breezed in through the back entrance of the
restaraunt. In her wake, a very tall blond haired man followed with
various bags of camera equipment, a bemused expression on his
handsome face.

Blue sapphire eyes blazed at the sight
of her and he made very little effort to control the way those eyes
traveled from the top of her head to the tips of her toes and back,
lingering in key locations and making her blush in spite of
herself. Men never looked at her like that, except Joe, and she was
unsure how to respond, particularly with Joe now glowering at the
photographer from his own impressive height. The pair faced off,
one as dark and thunderous as a storm and the other as bright as
the sun. Almost, but not quite, evenly matched in height, Joe was
more muscular but the newcomer exuded confidence that bordered on
cocky arrogance.

"Down boys," Martha commanded. "Elsa,
Joe, this is Alex Sandusky. Alex, this is Elsa and Joe. Everyone
play nice."

Alex's voice was smooth as silk,
low-pitched but not the masculine growl that Joe had. "I'll play
nice."

Joe said nothing but went over to
where Elsa stood at the kitchen island, tilting her chin with
gentle fingers, forcing her to look at him. He searched her eyes
and found confusion there. His scowl deepened and he kissed her
gently, attempting to erase the expression and replace it with one
he liked. He resumed his position on the bar stool by the door, his
territory clearly marked in front of the new guy.

"Why don't you tattoo your name on her
forehead next?" Alex's dry tone left no doubt about his opinion of
Joe's display.

"Take your pictures and shut the hell
up."

Elsa was taken aback by the entire
exchange. She wished Joe had not come, and then berated herself for
it. She wished Alex were not handsome, that he had not looked at
her as though he found her attractive, and fervently hoped Martha
would keep both of them in line. She was at a complete loss as to
how she should act. Flustered, she went to the ingredients laid out
on the island and checked the recipes she had printed out, hoping
to call the meeting to order by her actions.

"Alright, that's enough," Martha said.
"Let's get to work. Alex, you set up your cameras and when you're
ready, let Elsa know so she can start cooking. Joe, you just stay
there and look menacing, there's a good boy."

Martha bustled about, getting a chair
for herself, helping Alex by turning lights on and off to achieve
the perfect setting for the photographs. Finally, Alex declared
himself ready to shoot. He smiled at Elsa. "Let's take some test
shots real quick. Can you stand over by the sink,
please?"

She moved over to the sink and tried
to smile at the camera. She'd always hated having her picture taken
and was very uncomfortable. Alex snapped a few shots, had her turn
slightly to the side, tilt her chin first up, then down a bit. He
gave gentle commands, asking her to do his bidding rather than
telling her. She found his tone soothing and discovered she was
relaxing with every passing moment. She was largely able to ignore
Joe's angry presence near the doorway and found herself enjoying
the session. Alex called her over to the camera, showing her the
shots he'd taken of her.

"That's me? I don't look like
me!"

"What do you mean?" Alex wore a truly
puzzled expression. "You're beautiful!"

"Watch it asshole," Joe
growled.

"Joe. Shut up," Martha
interjected.

Elsa's grin faded. "I mean, I still
have so much weight to lose. I can't believe how different I look
though after only fifty pounds."

"You look terrific." Alex grinned down
at her, completely ignoring her glowering fiance. "Now let's take
some cooking pictures. I'm ready whenever you are."

Elsa was in her element in the
kitchen, pouring ingredients into mixing bowls and measuring spices
and seasonings. Alex was a joy to work with, and soon he had her
laughing at some of his stories about other photo shoots he'd done.
Martha couldn't sit still; often she would sit by Joe but his bad
attitude and silent, simmering anger soon had her flitting over to
Alex's side to watch the photographs add up on his digital
cameras.

They managed to get through ten
recipes before the day was over and Alex, Martha, and Elsa
discussed how many more sessions to get through the rest. They
talked about breaking the recipes up into sections, such as
appetizers, entrees, and desserts. Joe said nothing while they
talked business, his face as closed as his thoughts. His dark eyes
followed Elsa's every move, fixated on her face as she talked and
laughed with the handsome photographer.

She noticed his gaze and left the
Martha and Alex talking to each other about dates for the next
shoot. She wedged herself between his thighs and leaned in to kiss
him. He kept his arms crossed over his chest, his lips barely
responding to hers in response to her kiss. She studied him
carefully before she said, "Martha and Alex want to have drinks
before we call it a day. What do you think?"

His reply was terse. "Whatever you
want."

His tone should have warned her, but
she agreed to have drinks with Martha and the photographer at the
bar down the street. Alex packed all of his camera gear in the back
of Martha's Dodge mini-van, Elsa and Martha helping him while Joe
sat in the Rover and waited for her.

The ride to the bar, called "The
Drunken Sailor" but which the locals just called "Sailor's", was
silent and uncomfortable. Elsa knew Joe was upset but wasn't sure
why he was mad at her. She hadn't done anything to encourage Alex,
that she could think of, but knew that his conversation with her
and the looks he'd given her during the shoot could be considered
flirtatious. She tried to talk to Joe about it, but he gave her
only one word answers or noncommital grunts in response to her
questions. Unfortunately, they reached the bar all too soon and Joe
reluctantly trailed her, Martha, and Alex inside.

A couple of beers seemed to relax Joe
a bit, and he finally started talking again, though pointedly
ignoring Alex, who seemed happy to have rattled the bigger man. As
the night wore on, Joe was nearly his normal self until the
explosion came. He excused himself around midnight to go to the
men's room, pinching her bottom on her bar stool and nuzzling her
neck on the way. She was hopeful his affectionate attention meant
an exciting evening in the bedroom. After he left, she was speaking
to Martha on her right side, arguing about the ill effects of high
heels on a woman's body, when Alex left his spot on the far side of
Martha and sidled up to her on the left where Joe was sitting. He
slipped an arm around her shoulders and leaned in, his breath hot
in her ear, saying, "Women's legs look sexier in high heels,
though, don't you agree?"

Elsa leaned away from his touch to
look at him, about to tell him to go back to his spot before Joe
saw him but it was too late. Joe stopped short at the edge of the
bar as soon as he caught sight of the tall blond photographer with
his arms around his woman and he saw, all right. He saw
red.

He stalked over to them and grabbed
Alex by the shoulder, whirling him around and getting in his
face.

"Don't. Ever. Touch. Her.
Again."

His voice was low, a menacing growl
that reverberated through Alex like thunder. But Alex had had a few
beers and was feeling pretty cocky. He smiled charmingly at
Joe.

"She didn't tell me not to, now did
she?"

That was all it took. Joe grabbed him
by the front of his jacket and hauled him up close. "That's it,
picture boy. I'm going to fuck you up."

He half carried the man out the front
of the bar, his superior strength more than a match for Alex's
drunken state. Elsa frantically grabbed her purse and their coats,
hurrying after them and hoping to stem the flow of Joe's rage.
Martha shouted, "Call the cops!" to the astonished bartender and
followed them out into the parking lot.

She got there just in time for Joe's
fist to connect with Alex's jaw, knocking him to the ground. He
spat blood, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, and then
grinned up at Joe.

"Is that all you got? I thought you
were some kind of strongman, but apparently not."

"I'll fucking show you strongman, you
little prick..." Joe reached for him again but was halted by Elsa's
shriek from behind him.

"Joe! What are you doing? Stop,
now!"

He turned on her, stalking closer to
glare down at her stricken face. She held her ground; Joe would
never, ever hurt her but she needed to talk him down from this
towering rage before he got himself in trouble. She'd never seen
him quite so angry. She was afraid for him.

"Joe," she pleaded, "let's just go
home, okay? Just leave him, Martha can take care of
him."

"You care about what happens to him,
huh?"

"No! I care about what
happens to you, dammit! Or do you
want
to go to jail for assualt and
battery?"

Slowly the haze of anger faded from
his mind and he glanced behind him where a small crowd had gathered
around the fallen photographer. Martha was holding a bar towel to
his split lip. Joe heard the bartender ask, "You still want me to
call the cops, lady?"

He didn't wait for Martha's response.
He turned back to Elsa. "You coming with me, or staying with him?"
His voice was steady, not betraying his emotions, though his eyes
danced with an intense fire.

Elsa grasped the depth of his feelings
instantly. She was being asked where her alliance was, if she
wanted another man instead of him. His insecurity and jealousy were
completely out of control, but she would deal with that later. It
was important to her that he know where her loyalties
lie.

"I'm always with you, babe. Didn't you
know?"

His lips twitched, almost a smile.
"Stay here."

He strode to where Alex was still on
the ground. He held out a hand; Alex glared, almost refused, but
then sighed and took the proferred assistance. Joe hauled him to
his feet and pounded him on the back a couple of times. "You okay,
man?"

"Yeah, I'm great. Thanks, I needed
dental work."

Joe leaned in, his words for Alex's
ears only. "Don't come near my fiance again,
understand?"

Alex nodded. Martha hurried forward to
lead Alex to her car. Once safely ensconced in the front seat of
the mini-van, she went to Elsa, who'd been rejoined by Joe. She
gave him a jaundiced look.

"So, big guy, I'm guessing you don't
like the photographer I picked for this book. Amiright?"

He stood as if made of stone, arms
crossed against chiseled chest. "You could say that."

"If I pick another photographer, a
woman, maybe, are you going to kick the shit out of her
too?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"Whether or not she hits on
Elsa."

Martha sighed. "Listen, Joe, I
understand the guy was out of line. But you gotta understand that
people are going to hit on her sometimes. You can't kill them with
your lethal fists, it's illegal. You could have gone to jail
tonight," she added, her tone gentle.

He just gazed implacably at her. She
turned to Elsa. "Okay, doll. I'll get us another photographer and
call you with a schedule for reshooting. I doubt we can use Alex's
pictures now, so we'll have to start over. I've got a few other
things in the works, though, don't you worry. Old Martha won't let
you down."

Elsa hugged the older woman with real
affection. "Of course you won't, Martha. This isn't your fault. I
appreciate everything you do for me!"

Martha squeezed her back then stepped
away, giving Joe another inscrutable look before heading to her car
where the wounded Alex sat with his head against the window glass
of the car. The crowd, sensing the excitement was over, went back
into the bar. The bartender, having never bothered to call the cops
on his friend, waved goodnight at them and followed his patrons
back inside Sailor's.

Elsa and Joe said nothing to one
another on the short ride home. Once inside, Joe took care of
Spike, letting him into the back yard and standing outside with him
for long minutes. Elsa went to their bedroom and sat on the edge of
the bed, her mind replaying the events of the evening over and
over. She felt it was her fault, even though she hadn't encouraged
Alex. But...she didn't really try very hard to discourage him, she
realized. She'd somewhat enjoyed his attention. Before Joe, men
hadn't given her much thought. She had had a boyfriend in high
school, whom she'd given her virginity to and who hadn't deserved
the honor, but that was about it aside from a few losers she'd
dated once or twice. And though she loved Joe with all her heart,
mind, body, and soul...some small part of her must have wanted Alex
to pay her compliments, wanted him to show her he desired her. The
thought made her feel worse than ever about the whole day. Could
that possibly be true? Had she wanted Alex to flirt with her like
that? What was supposed to have been an exciting new venture in the
saga of her cookbook project was now a mess tinged with guilt and
shame. She covered her face with her hands to stave off
tears.