Pandora's Box (previously Worth the Wait, a Zebra print best seller) (5 page)

“Can I get you anything?” Damian asked.

“No.”

He sat down on the floor in front of the sofa. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No!”

“You’ll feel better if you do.”

“Are you a psychiatrist on the side?” she snarled.

Damian smiled. “It’s nice to see that you’ve returned to your charming self. Do you feel up to eating?”

She laughed and coughed at the same time. “I’m not very hungry.”

“Well, you’d better get hungry. You ordered a lot of food and I’m not leaving until you’ve finished it all.”

She glanced at the numerous containers on the table and moaned. “You’d better make yourself comfortable. It will take me a week to finish that”

“Is that an invitation?”

“Wasn’t one date punishment enough for you?” Her light tone held an underlying trace of embarrassment, but she offered no explanation or apology for her behavior.

“It was different. I’ve never inspired such a unique reaction in a woman before.”

She sat up and smoothed her sweat suit into place. “You have a flair for understatement. Hand me a shrimp toast, please. I feel my appetite returning after all.”

He stood up.

“Damian?”

“I know,” he said on his way to the table. “Put it on a plate.”

“That, too. I was going to say that there is some beer in the fridge.”

Damian made up a plate from the many containers and put it on the coffee table. He could only imagine what had caused her to become so agitated. To see her revert to her prickly, sarcastic self was a relief.

After returning with two cans of beer, he settled down on the floor again. He flipped the top on one and offered it to Charlie.

“Lord, you have a short attention span. I don’t drink,” she reminded him.

“Then why do you keep beer in the refrigerator?”

“It’s Erik’s.”

“Erik? Is he here often?” He tried to keep the edge from his voice. Why did the fact that his brother spent a lot of time with her cause this wave of anger?

Not anger, he acknowledged, but jealousy. The alien emotion surprised him. Not the feat that he was capable of jealousy, but that he felt anything at all. What was it about Charlie that enabled her to revive emotions he’d thought long dead?

Charlie arched her eyebrow at the tone of his voice. “Have you got a problem with that?”

“It’s none of my business.”

“You’re damn right.” She bit into a shrimp toast and swallowed hard. “But since you’re so interested, yes he is here often. We study together. It’s difficult to get anything accomplished in the dorms this time of year. There are too many parties going on to be bothered with anything as frivolous as studying.”

“Don’t you enjoy parties?”

“I didn’t come to college to party. I want an education. I’ve seen enough of the undereducated being trounced on. All they get for their effort is the scorn of the upper class, who would have nothing without them.”

“You don’t like the wealthy very much. How come you don’t include my brother among them?”

Apparently, her feelings for Erik could still make her smile. “Erik is different. He’s not afraid to get his hands dirty. I’ll bet you didn’t know that he wanted to be a paleontologist.”

“Erik?” he exclaimed, disbelieving. “He’s going to work with me after he graduates.”

“I know he is. That doesn’t mean it’s what he wants to do with his life. You decided that for him. You decided whom he was going to marry and where he would live. You’ve probably decided how many children he can have, too.”

Damian tipped his head back and took a large gulp of beer. He didn’t care for her accusations, but there was a ring of truth to them. Was he guilty of assuming that Erik wanted to marry Cynthia Farnsworth and settle into a cushy corporate job? Lately he’d been taking a lot of things for granted. “He never said anything to me.”

“No. And he won’t. Did you ever take the time to ask him what he wanted or give him reason to believe you would support his choices?”

“All he has to do is say something.”

“He can’t. Even if you would understand, your mother never would.”

“No. I don’t suppose she would. But then, it’s his life and he has to be happy with what he’s doing.”

“Well, it might help him to know he has support in his corner.”

“What about you?”

Charlie tilted her head. “Me?”

“Do you have support in your corner?”

“My life wasn’t mapped out for me from the day I was born.”

Damian exhaled slowly. “Perhaps not, but you are chained to your past the same as Erik.”

“Some more of your armchair analysis, Dr. Freud?”

“It doesn’t take a Ph.D. to figure it out.” He finished the last of his beer and popped the top on the second one.

“No.” Charlie put her hand on the aluminum can. “I will not let you drive home after drinking two of those.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Yes,” she snapped back.

Damian swallowed the entire can of beer without stopping for a breath. He had no idea why he pulled such a juvenile stunt, except that he suddenly had an overwhelming desire to stay. When he finished, he placed the can on the table and flashed a smile at her. “Then, I guess you have a houseguest for the night”

Patches of red crept up her cheeks as she clenched her fingers tightly into trembling fists. “You lousy snake. I’m going to toss you out the door anyway.”

“That would make you responsible for my driving in a less-than-sober state. As a bartender, you know that.” She seemed about to refuse anyway, so he quickly added, “And Erik would never forgive you.”

“Call a cab.”

He raised his shoulders apologetically. “I don’t carry cash on me.”

“You are such an idiot. I don’t even have a spare mattress. You’ll have to sleep on the cold, hard floor.”

“Suffering is good for the soul.”

“That’s not suffering. It’s hell. By the time I open this couch, the only space left is the kitchen linoleum.”

“So?”

Charlie bowed her head and sighed. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, Damian. It’s been a long day. Don’t play games. Your mother would have a fit if she knew you planned to stay here all night. Even on the floor.”

“I haven’t answered to my mother in fifteen years. And I sure don’t tell her where I spend my nights.” He took a piece of shrimp toast from his plate and handed it to her. “Have some more food.”

She yanked it out of his hand. “Don’t change the subject”

“Do you want to talk about my mother? Okay. Perhaps you’d care to explain what this evening was about.”

“How should I know? Maybe I remind her of someone.”

“Now who’s playing games? You won’t talk to me; Erik won’t talk to me, and Mother . . . well, I don’t want to go into that”

She stood up and took a container off the table. “Have some more food, Damian.”

“Changing the subject, Charlotte?”

“Don’t ask. You really don’t want to know.”

The more Charlie and Damian tried to avoid the subject, the more determined he became to uncover the truth. He dropped his questioning for the time being. Charlie was in much better spirits and he didn’t want to risk saying something to revive painful memories again.

After they ate, she cleared away the dishes. He smiled as she transferred the food into plastic storage containers. She treated the leftovers with the same care that he treated a new client.

When the kitchen was clean, she took the bed linens from the closet. True to her word, she laid a pillow and blanket on the kitchen floor and pulled out the sofa bed for herself.

Since she had made no effort to make him leave, he had hoped that she had begun to feel comfortable in his presence. She reached for something inside her purse and he noted sadly that she clutched her mace tightly in her hand.

“Sweet dreams,” she called out as she slipped under the blanket.

“Are you really going to make me sleep on the floor?”

“Yep.” She switched the light off and the room went black.

He laid his head back on the pillow and stared into the darkness. He couldn’t believe he was spending the night on a kitchen floor. Then again, he couldn’t think of one logical explanation for any of his behavior since he’d walked into that campus bar the night before. He was too old for juvenile stunts and too young for a midlife crisis. So what the hell was happening to his orderly, well-planned life?

CHAPTER FOUR

Damian moved his stiff limbs and moaned. Suffering might be good for the soul, but it was hell on the body. Charlie had warned him, so he had no one but himself to blame. He sat up and glanced around the empty apartment. How had she cleaned up and left so silently? He caught sight of a slip of white paper folded on the coffee table.

Yes, I took your car without your permission, but you spent the night in my apartment without mine. Sue me.

Charlie

Damian laughed and placed the note back on the table. Her nerve almost matched his own. Charlie was a walking contradiction. She had the instincts of an alley cat that protected a timid kitten inside her. Because of her friendship with Erik, she hadn’t thrown him out last night but he had heard her bolt upright every time he shifted his position. He thought about Erik’s cryptic words at the party.

A Pandora’s Box.

A mystery to alleviate the boredom in his life was just what the doctor had ordered. He’d been advised to lighten up and learn to enjoy life more or risk driving himself into an early grave. What better way to pass the time than with a spunky spitfire who made him work for every smile she gave him? From the moment she found out who he was, she’d gone on the attack. Her verbal snipes were sharp, but never derogatory. Surprisingly, he found the banter a refreshing change although he normally had no patience for wordplay.

He cased her small apartment looking for clues into the mind of his beautiful hostess. Her home was meticulously organized to utilize every inch of the limited space. Cookie jars lined the kitchen counter. He opened the lid of one to sample a cookie and ended up with a handful of money. A tiny label reading “New Contact Lenses” was attached to the inside top. Guilt ricocheted through him. No wonder the loss of a day’s pay had upset her.

The doorbell rang and he quickly returned the money to the jar and straightened it back in place. Charlie must have forgotten her own keys when she took his. He walked across the room and looked through the peephole. His brother was the last person he expected to see. And when he opened the door, he figured he was the last person Erik expected to see.

Erik stood on the front landing, one hand holding a bakery box and the other arm draped around the shoulder of a young woman. His jaw dropped open and his eyes doubled in size. Damian’s disheveled appearance left no doubt that he’d slept in his suit

“Where’s your car?” he blurted out

“I have no idea. Charlie took it this morning and I haven’t seen her yet” Damian glanced toward the young woman and smiled. “Are you going to introduce me to your girlfriend?”

“I’m sorry. Shelly, this is my brother, Damian.”

“Hello,” she said timidly.

Damian offered his hand to the redheaded pixie who was explanation enough for why Erik no longer called Cynthia Farnsworth. Although Shelly was the complete opposite of the kind of woman he would have pictured Erik falling for, they seemed perfect together. “It’s nice to meet you.”

She glanced back and forth between the brothers. “I should leave.”

“I don’t think so. I think both of you should come in. The only way I’m ever going to learn about this stranger I call my brother is from other people, it seems,” Damian said.

Shelly slipped out from under Erik’s arm. “I really think he should talk to you alone first I’ll be back in an hour.”

Shy, but perceptive, he noted silently. He stepped back to allow Erik to pass in front of him.

“Charlie was running off at the mouth last night huh?”

“It’s a good thing she was. Otherwise I never would have known that you didn’t want to work for me when you graduate.”

Erik let out a low groan. “I’m going to kill her!”

“Why? It’s not mandatory that you work for me. Am I so unapproachable?”

A small snicker erupted into an outright laugh. “You’re damned inflexible, Damian. And so predictable. Although, to tell you the truth, I wish I had a picture of you right now for the board of directors.”

He lowered his head in embarrassment. His arm muscles still ached from the uncomfortable sleeping position. “She made me sleep on the floor in my clothes. I was afraid she’d mace me if I tried to remove anything.”

“She would have, too. You shouldn’t have had that second drink.”

“How did you know?”

“Elementary, Watson.” Erik flopped down onto the sofa. He put the box on the coffee table and leaned back. “I’ve slept on the floor myself for much the same reason. It’s hell. Best cure in the world for a drinking problem.”