Tempted (4 page)

James reached across the table and grabbed my hand. His thumb passed over the back of it. “I’ll tell her.”

Three words and such a simple sentiment, but some of the weight dropped from my shoulders. I squeezed his hand. We shared a smile. He tugged me gently, pulling me closer, and we kissed over the remains of our dinner.

“Mmm. Steak sauce.” He licked his lips. “Wonder what else that would taste good on.”

“Don’t even think about it,” I warned.

James laughed and kissed me again, lingering though the position was awkward. “I’d have to lick it all off….”

“That sounds like a very good way to get an infection,” I said crisply, and he let me go.

Together, we tossed the paper plates and put away leftovers. James found many excuses to rub and bump against me, always with a falsely innocent “Pardon me, excuse me,” that made me laugh and punch his arm. Finally he backed me against the sink and pinned me. His hands closed around my wrists, pressing my hands down to the countertop. His pelvis anchored mine.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hello.”

“Fancy meeting you here.” He nudged me with his erection.

“We have to stop meeting like this. It’s really too shocking.”

He pressed closer to me, knowing I couldn’t move away. His breath, redolent of garlic and onion but in a delicious and not repugnant way, gusted over my face. He tilted his head to align our mouths, but he didn’t kiss me.

“Are you shocked?”

I gave my head the slightest shake. “Not yet.”

“Good.”

Sometimes it was like that with us. Fast and hot and hard, swift and frantic fucking without bothering to do more than slide aside panties and unzip a fly. He was inside me in a heartbeat, and I was wet for him. Slick. My body gave him no resistance as he filled me, and we both cried out.

My arms went around his neck, his hand beneath one thigh to shift the angle. We rattled the cupboards. I wasn’t sure I’d come but something in the way his body hit my pelvis, over and over, tipped me into a short, sharp climax. James followed just after my body tightened around him. His face dropped to my shoulder, both of us breathing hard. The position quickly became painful and awkward, and we untangled ourselves with stiff motions. He put his arms around me, and we stood together as our breathing slowed and the sweat on our faces cooled in the breeze coming in the window.

“When’s your next appointment with the doctor?” James’s question made me blink.

“I haven’t made one.”

I pushed away from him to rearrange my clothes and wash the grill utensils. The dish soap made my fingers slippery, and I dropped the tongs into the steel sink with a clatter that sounded like an accusation. James, however, did not accuse.

“Are you going to?”

I looked at him. “I’ve just been busy.”

He could’ve pointed out that since the local counseling center I’d worked for had lost its funding and closed, I’d been anything but busy. He didn’t. He shrugged and accepted my answer like it made sense, even though it didn’t.

“Why?” I asked. “Are you in a hurry?”

James smiled. “I thought you wanted to get started. Hey, who knows, maybe we just made a baby. Just now.”

That was utterly unlikely. “How lucky would that be?”

He reached for me again. “Pretty lucky?”

I snorted delicately. “To have conceived our child standing up in the kitchen?”

“Maybe she’d be a good cook.”

“Or he. Boys can be good cooks, too.” I tossed a handful of suds his way.

James buffed his nails on his shirtfront. “Yeah, just like his old man.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh…yeah.”

Before we could disintegrate into teasing about James’s lack of culinary skills, the phone rang. I reached for it automatically. James took the opportunity of my distraction to knuckle my sides.

I was laughing, breathless, when I answered. “Hello?”

The crackle of static and silence greeted me. Then, “Anne?”

I fended off my husband’s wandering hands. “Yes?”

“Hello, Anne.” The voice was low, deep, thick. Unfamiliar yet something made me think I knew it.

“Yes?” I said, uncertain, glancing at the clock. It seemed rather late for a telemarketer.

“This is Alex. How are you?”

“Oh. Alex. Hello.” My laugh sounded embarrassed this time. James raised an eyebrow. I’d never spoken to Alex. “You must want to speak to James.”

“No,” said Alex. “I’d like to talk to you.”

I’d already been planning to hand off the phone to James, but now I stopped. “You would?”

James, who’d been reaching for the phone, took back his hand. His other brow raised, the pair of them arching like birds’ wings. I shrugged and raised a brow myself, using the subtle nonverbal signals we’d forged as our private marital communication.

“Sure.” Alex had a laugh like syrup. “How are you?”

“I’m…fine.”

James stepped back, palms up, grinning. I cradled the phone against my shoulder and turned back to the sink to rinse off the dishes, but James nudged me aside and took over the task. He waved a little, shooing me.

“That’s good. How’s the bastard you married?”

“He’s fine, too.” I went to the living room. I’m not much of a phone conversationalist. I always need something else to do while I’m talking, but now I had no laundry to fold, no floor to mop. No dishes, even, to wash. I paced, instead.

“He’s not giving you any trouble, is he?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer that, so I opted to assume Alex was teasing. “Nothing the whips and chains can’t take care of.”

His low chuckle tickled my eardrum. “That’s right. You keep him in line.”

“So…James tells me you’re coming for a visit?”

The hiss of static made me think we’d lost the connection for a second, but then he was back. “Yeah, that’s the plan. Unless you object?”

“Of course not. We’re looking forward to it.” A slight lie. I was sure James was looking forward to it. Never having met Alex, I wasn’t so sure about having him as a houseguest. It was an intimate proposal, and I wasn’t so good at intimacy on short notice.

“Liar.”

“Beg pardon?” I stopped short.

Alex laughed. “You’re a liar, Anne.”

At first, I didn’t know how to respond. “I—”

He laughed again. “I’d be the same way. Some rascal calls out of the blue wanting to be put up for a few weeks? I’d be a little concerned. Especially if half the things I’m sure Jamie’s told you about me are true. He has told you stories, hasn’t he?”

“A few.”

“And you’re still letting me come to visit? You’re a brave, brave woman.”

I’d heard stories about Alex Kennedy but assumed most of them were exaggerations. The mythology of boyhood friendship, the past filtered through time. “So, if only half of what he’s told me is true, what about the rest?”

“Some of that might be true, too,” Alex said. “Tell me something, Anne. Do you really want me in your house?”

“Are you really a rascal?”

“A ragged one. Running round and round that rugged rock.”

He surprised me into a laugh. I was aware of an undercurrent there, a slight flirtation he was offering and to which I was responding. I looked into the kitchen, where James was finishing up the dishes. He wasn’t even paying any attention, uncaring about my conversation with his friend. I’d have been eavesdropping.

“Any friend of James,” I said.

“Is that so? But I bet Jamie doesn’t have any friends like me.”

“Rascals? No. You’re probably right. A few scoundrels and a moron or two. But no other rascals.”

I liked his laugh. It was warm and gooey and unpretentious. The connection hissed and crackled again. I heard a flare of music and the murmur of conversation, but couldn’t tell if it was in the background or breaking through on the line.

“Where are you, Alex?”

“Germany. I’m visiting some friends for a day or so before I go to Amsterdam, then to London. I’ll be leaving for the States from there.”

“Very cosmopolitan,” I said, only a bit envious. I’d never been out of North America.

Alex’s laugh rasped. “I’m living out of a suitcase and I’m jet-lagged all to shit. I’d kill someone just for a bologna sandwich on white bread with mayonnaise.”

“Are you trying to win my sympathy?”

“Shamelessly.”

“I’ll make sure to stock up on white bread and bologna,” I said, the prospect of Alex staying in our house suddenly not as daunting as it had been before.

“Anne,” Alex said after a pause, “you are a goddess among women.”

“So I’m told.”

“Seriously. Tell me what you want me to bring you from Europe.”

The shift in conversation surprised me. “I don’t want anything!”

“Chocolate? Sausage? Treacle? What? I might have a hard time smuggling heroin or pot or prostitutes from Amsterdam, though. You’d better keep it legal.”

“Really, Alex, you don’t have to bring me anything.”

“Of course I do. If you don’t tell me what you want, I’ll just ask Jamie.”

“I’d say treacle,” I told him. “But I’m not sure what it is…does it come from a well?”

He chuckled. “It’s molasses. It comes in a jar.”

“Bring me that.”

“Ah, a woman who likes to live on the wild side. No wonder Jamie married you.”

“There’s more than one reason,” I said.

I realized I’d been standing still, chatting, for several minutes. Alex had so engaged me I hadn’t felt the need to multitask. I looked again to the kitchen, but James had disappeared. I heard the mumble of television from the den.

“I was sorry I couldn’t make the wedding. I heard it was a blast.”

“Did you? From James?”

A silly question. From who else would he have heard it? Except James had never mentioned he’d been in touch with Alex. James had spoken frequently about his best friend from junior high school, though on the subject of their falling-out he’d been rather more vague. He had other friends…but we were getting married, and I have a habit of trying to make things better. I’d been the one to add Alex’s name to the guest list, uncertain even if the address I found in James’s outdated address book was the right one. I figured whatever had happened between them might be repaired with a little outreach. When he’d sent regrets, I wasn’t surprised, but at least we’d made the attempt. Apparently it had worked better than I’d known.

“Yeah.”

“It was a very nice wedding,” I said. “It was too bad you couldn’t make it, but now you’ll get to come for a long visit, instead.”

“He sent me pictures. You both look very happy.”

“He sent you…pictures? Of our wedding?” I looked at the fireplace mantel, where a framed photo of us still rested even after six years. I always wondered how long it was acceptable to display wedding photos. I guessed at least until baby photos came along to replace them.

“Yeah.”

That surprised me, too. I’d sent photos to a few of my friends who hadn’t been able to attend, but…well, we were women. Chicks did stuff like that, giggled over pictures and sent chatty e-mails.

“Well….” I trailed off, awkward. “When are you coming in?”

“I have a few details to work out with the airline. I’ll let Jamie know.”

“Sure. Do you want me to get him for you?”

“I’ll e-mail him.”

“Okay. I’ll tell him.”

“Well, Anne, it’s almost two in the morning here. I’m going to go to bed. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Goodbye, Alex—” He’d already disconnected, leaving me to stare at the phone, a bit taken aback.

There was nothing odd, not really, about his being in touch with James. Men’s friendships were different from women’s. My husband never told me about talking to Alex, but that didn’t mean he was keeping it a secret. It just meant he hadn’t thought enough of it to share. In fact, I should be happy they’d resolved their differences. It would be nice to meet James’s dear friend, Alex, the rascal. The ragged one who ran round and round the rugged rock. The one who promised me treats from Wonderland. The one who called my husband, Jamie, not James.

The one James had only ever spoken of in past tense.

Mary’s phone beeped for the fourth time in half an hour, but this time she only glanced at it before shoving it deep into her purse. “So how long is he staying?”

“I don’t know.” I lifted a crystal picture frame from a shelf laden with them. “How about this one?”

My sister made a face. “No.”

I put it back and looked around the store. “They’re all like that in here. We’re not going to find anything.”

“Whose bright idea was it to get a fancy picture frame, anyway? Oh, right,” Mary said sarcastically. “Patricia’s. So why are we suckered into trying to find one?”

“Because Patricia can’t come to places like this with the kids.” I scanned the shelves but all the frames were similar. Overpriced and glittering with ugliness.