Can't Stand the Heat (25 page)

“W
ho was that?” Cris asked tiredly with a yawn, walking down the staircase into the dimly lit foyer.

He had heard the doorbell ring minutes earlier, thinking it was odd to get a visitor at this early hour. For one fleeting moment, he had hoped it was Lauren, but then talked himself out of that wish.

Nevertheless, he was on his way to answer the bell when he realized Alex had already gotten there before him and opened the door.

Alex turned, shut the front door behind her, and smiled. “Some strange woman.” She tucked her newspaper underneath her arm and drank from her glass. “Either a groupie or a stalker or both. I swear those women never give up. I hope you have a good alarm system.”

Cris frowned. It was a bit presumptuous of Alex to answer the door in her robe and nightgown like she was the lady of the house, but he decided to let it slide. She would only be here another day or two—thankfully. There was no reason to start an argument with her over something as petty as her attire.

“Did you get her name?” He stepped off the last riser. “Did she say what she wanted?”

Alex hesitated. She pursed her lips, then turned the dead bolt lock. “No, she didn't. I told you she was strange. You're lucky I answered and not you. You could have had a real nutball on your hands, but I guess finding me here scared her off.”

“Well . . . thanks.” He headed toward his kitchen. “I was just going to grab some breakfast if you—”

“Oh, don't worry about that,
mi amor
. I've got it covered.” Alex brushed past him, her hips swaying as she sashayed into his kitchen. The high heels of her satin slippers clicked over the marble foyer tile. Cris followed her.

Only weeks ago, Lauren had been cooking dinners in that gourmet kitchen. Now it was Alex rummaging through his industrial-size refrigerator and opening and closing oak cabinets. Again, Cris felt uneasy seeing her there, looking so comfortable. She wasn't his woman anymore, yet she kept acting as if she were.

“How about I make you your favorite, huevos rancheros?” She removed a carton of eggs from one of the refrigerator shelves. “Would you like that?”

“You really don't have to do that, Alex. I can make myself a quick breakfast. Besides, I don't have any tortillas.”

“Don't worry,” she said with a wink as she opened his pantry. “I bought tortillas at the grocery store yesterday.” She then set the bag of tortillas on his kitchen island. “Just sit back and I'll have breakfast ready in the next thirty minutes or so.”

As Alex set a pan on one of the oven burners, he walked to his pantry closet and opened the double doors. He gazed at the pantry shelves.

Not being much of a cook, Cris usually purchased only food staples like bread, deli meats, a few canned soups, and some fruit. Now the shelves were stocked with items he never would have purchased himself: gourmet sauces, virgin olive oil, artisan breads, and several pastas. He opened his refrigerator and noticed a similar change.

Cris narrowed his eyes as he gazed at Alex, who was humming merrily as she began to grate tomatoes and onions for breakfast.

“Isn't it just like the old days, Cris?” she said, smiling whimsically.

“Yeah. Eerily so.”

 

That evening, Cris was playing pool by himself in his game room. He leaned over the pool table, lining up a corner pocket shot. Suddenly, he felt warm air blow on his right ear, making him jump in surprise.

“Boo!” Alex said with a giggle.

Cris tossed aside his cue stick. He grumbled with irritation. “Damn it,
don't
sneak up on me like that!”

“Oh, did I ruin your game,
mi amor
?” She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her breasts against his back. “I'm sorry.”

“No.” He firmly tugged her hands away. “You just . . . you just caught me by surprise. That's all. I was about to call it a day anyway.”

He then turned around to face her.

Alex was wearing
very
short drawstring shorts and a white tank top with no bra. She knew it was one of his favorite “sexy” outfits she wore. In fact, he had always found it sexier on her than if she had worn a bustier and thong. Unfortunately, despite knowing what he knew about Alex, he couldn't say he was immune to her outfit's power even now. He could feel the familiar stirring as he gazed at her. His eyes glanced hungrily at the dark nipples that were visible through the flimsy tank top fabric.

“Be strong, man,”
he could hear Jamal's voice urge in his head.
“Be strong!”

Cris quickly averted his eyes.

“No other plans for this evening?” she said with a seductive smile.

“Not really.”

He picked up the pool cue and walked across the game room. He placed the cue stick in one of the empty spots on the wall rack.

“I'll probably veg out in front of the TV and fall asleep in an hour or two.”

“Boooring!”
Alex hoisted herself onto the pool table. “Fall asleep? Are you kidding me? The night's still young, baby!”

He watched as she reached for one of the billiard balls and casually tossed it into the air before catching it in her hand. Alex spread her legs and swung her dangling feet over the carpeted floor. She raised an eyebrow and smirked her glossy lips. “Would you like to hear my suggestion of what we could do?”

He shook his head, quickly guessing what that suggestion would be. “Not really.”

She chuckled, spreading her legs even wider. “Oh, Cris . . . Cris . . . Cris.
Mi amor,
what am I going to do with you?”

The temperature in the room seemed to rise about ten degrees. Cris sighed, sensing it would be in his best interest to get out of there quickly before he did something he would regret later.

“Good night, Alex.” He walked toward the game room doorway. “You're free to use the room as long as you like. Just turn the lights off when you're done.”

As he passed the pool table, she reached out and grabbed his wrist. He could have easily yanked his hand away, but he didn't. Instead, he allowed himself to be pulled toward her. Alex slowly placed one of his hands on her breast. He cupped it and she smiled. She then guided his other hand between her thighs.

“Just like old times,” she whispered huskily, wrapping an arm around his neck. She then fiercely tugged his mouth down to hers.

They kissed eagerly, losing themselves in the heady sensation. She tugged his bottom lip between her teeth as she raked her fingers over his broad back. He shoved his fingers into her hair and cupped her bottom.

I should stop this,
Cris silently told himself.
I should stop this right now.

Logic said that he should, but his hormones said different—and his hormones were winning out.

She abruptly shoved him away from her. She grinned as she tugged her tank top over her head, revealing her bare breasts. What little resolve he had melted away at that point. She tugged down the zipper of his jeans and rubbed his arousal. They kissed again and she hopped from the table. She dropped to her knees and shoved down his pants, then his boxers. She languidly began to stroke him.

“Baby, I'm going to make you regret ever leaving me,” she murmured just before taking him into her mouth.

Cris's eyes flashed open. That was the bucket of ice cold water he needed. He shoved at her shoulders and she tore her mouth away and stared up at him, surprised. He glared down at her.

“Ever leaving you?” He raised his boxers and jeans back to his waist. “What do you mean
I
left
you?”

She smiled, slowly climbing back to her feet. “Cris, it's just an expression, baby! You know . . . sexy talk.”

“That wasn't fucking sexy talk! You meant exactly what you said. You said I'd regret ever leaving you, when that isn't true! I asked you to come with me, Alex! You told me you had your career and family back in Texas. You refused to come with me.
You
left
me!”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Cris, I'm about to give you the blow job of your life and you really wanna argue with me?” She looped her arms around his neck. “Let's not talk about this now, baby.”

“Why? Because it's the truth?” He wrenched her arms from around him and shook his head. “You dumped me, Alex. I can't understand how you can forget that fact!”

“OK, fine! Fine! I dumped you! But what did you expect?”

“For you to come with me! For you to stand by me!”

“Look, Cris, when we met, you were a star player on the Dallas Cowboys. You had sponsorship deals! You were on cereal boxes, for Christ's sake! You were big time and going places! I followed you around game after game, neglecting my own career to support you! Then suddenly you decide out of the blue to retire
without
discussing it with me! You just expect me to follow you to the middle of Nowhere, Virginia, and I'm just supposed to be OK with that?” She crossed her arms over her bare breasts. “No, I don't think so! I didn't hook up with Cris Weaver to become Mrs. Joe Nobody in Virginia!”

“
Mrs. Joe Nobody?”
he repeated with disbelief.

So all these years, Alex
had
been a groupie. He should have sensed it. She had always loved the star-studded parties, all the attention. She had loved using his name to get into places, to get what she wanted. Now he understood the truth.

“So why did you even come back? Why the hell did you come here?”

She pursed her lips again. “Because being with a
rich
Joe Nobody is better than being with no one at all. I could go after another football player or a baller, but I wouldn't know what I was getting. A lot of them are whores, knuckle-dragging assholes who will run after anything in a skirt. At least I wouldn't have to worry about that with you.”

He didn't get any comfort in her backhanded compliment.

“I'm going to give you until tomorrow morning to pack up your shit and get the hell out of my house. OK? And you'd be smart not to darken my goddamn doorstep again.”

He stepped away from her and strode toward the game room's entryway, wanting to kick himself for being so stupid.

“Oh, come on, Cris! This isn't about me leaving you!” she yelled after him as she reached for her tank top. She tugged the garment back over her head. “If it wasn't for that Lauren woman, you would take me back! Don't deny it!”

Cris stopped in his tracks. He turned and gazed at Alex in shock. “What did you say?”

“Lauren . . . or whatever the hell her name is,” Alex spat as she dressed. “The woman who looked like she needed a shower and a hair stylist. She showed up on your doorstep this morning.”

“What?” Cris glared at her. “You said you didn't know who she was!”

“Well, I lied,” Alex answered succinctly with a cold smile.

“I guess she's the new chick you've moved on to, but I'll tell you something, Cris. She is nothing . . .
nothing
. . . compared to me, baby! You took a step down when you went to that.”

“Get the hell out,” Cris said angrily. “I take back what I said about you leaving tomorrow morning! I want you to get the hell out of my house tonight! Stay at a goddamn hotel for all I care!”

“Fine!” she shouted as she walked out of the game room.

“There's nothing to fucking do around here anyway! Enjoy your life in the middle of nowhere!”

Cris listened to Alex stomp down the hallway and then slam one of the mansion's doors behind her. When silence fell upon him, he slowly shook his head. He leaned against the pool table and closed his eyes, feeling his heart thudding wildly in his chest. After some time, the pace slowed.

“Lauren,” he muttered aloud.

So Lauren
had
come after all and she “looked like she needed a shower and a hair stylist.” That didn't sound good. That didn't sound good at all. He wondered what had happened to her in the past few days to leave her in such a state. He wondered if that was the reason why she hadn't called him.

L
auren gazed into her bathroom mirror. Under the glare of the halogen bulbs, she half-heartedly applied her makeup. She closed her blush compact, stared at her reflection, and sighed.

She was preparing to go to tonight's Historic Preservation Association fund-raiser, as she had promised her sister Cynthia more than a month ago that she would. She was still annoyed at her family and resentful of all their drama, but she had given up being angry at them. They were the only family she had, after all—despite how screwed up they all were.

Cris was right in at least one regard: nothing broke the Gibbons's “precious little female circle.” No matter what, they always stuck together.

A sharp ache expanded in her chest every time she thought about Cris, but she assumed it would become fainter over time, to the point where she couldn't discern the ache at all. For now she would just have to live with it. To be honest, even hearing his voice hurt a little.

That was part of the reason why she hadn't answered the phone when he'd called yesterday. She saw his name and number on her caller ID and let it go to voice mail. Besides, she wasn't sure what to say to him now that he had moved on to someone else. She was nowhere near the point where she could wish him happiness, so she decided to go with the old adage, “If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all.” When she saw he had left a voice message, she promptly deleted it.

Still gazing in the mirror, Lauren ran her hands over the front of her sapphire blue chiffon floor-length gown, trailing her fingers along the sweetheart neckline and then the sequined embellishment at the waist. Soft curls fell around her cheeks. Diamond teardrop earrings skimmed her shoulders. She looked beautiful and alluring, but she didn't feel that way. She felt sad and hollow.

“Just get through it,” she muttered to herself. “Get through it like you always do.”

She then turned off the bathroom light, readying herself for the long and painfully boring night.

 

A half hour later, Lauren pulled her car in front of the limestone steps of Glenn Dale, an antebellum mansion on one of the many historic plantations outside of Chesterton. She handed her keys to the smiling valet and stepped onto a red carpet that led up the steps to the entrance.

Subtle, Cynthia,
she thought with a small smile, fighting the urge to roll her eyes.

She was instantly met by the sound of a twelve-piece orchestra, which played a lively Vivaldi tune inside, and the buzz of partygoers that gathered near the mansion's doors. She slowly climbed the steps, steeling her shoulders, ignoring the gazes and whispers that followed her as she walked into the shadows of the loggia, then the orange glow of the front hall.

In search of her sisters, Lauren walked into the crowded parlor, where she was immediately offered a glass of champagne by one of the waiters. She thanked him and accepted the drink, then looked around.

Cynthia and her staff had done a good job of renovating the mansion, restoring it to the original hodgepodge of neo-Palladian clean lines and Renaissance revival embellishments. Every historic detail was there, from the gold candlesticks on the mantel to the William-and-Mary-style desk in the corner. Lauren scanned the room, her small smile reemerging as she admired her sister's handiwork. But her smile faded when her eyes settled on a familiar face in the throng of people. She felt the sharp pain again.

Cris stood on the other side of the parlor, engrossed in conversation with a few businessmen from town who looked vaguely familiar. For some reason, she had assumed he wouldn't be here tonight.

“Fat chance of that,” a voice in her head mocked. “He's a helluva lot more popular in Chesterton than you are. If
you
got an invite, he certainly did.”

He wore a tuxedo that fit him so well it had to be tailor made. The tux and his debonair manner changed him from a simply handsome man to a strikingly gorgeous one.

As if he sensed her staring at him, Cris raised his almond-shaped eyes and gazed back at her. She watched as he mumbled something to one of his companions. He then placed his glass of white wine on a nearby end table and walked across the parlor, seemingly toward her.

Lauren's breath caught in her throat. She didn't want to talk to Cris—definitely not now. She'd probably angrily ask him how he could get back with his girlfriend. She would shout accusations, curse him out, maybe even burst into tears, making yet another scene that would leave her mortified later. Her gaze quickly darted around the room, looking for a way to make a hasty exit as Cris drew closer. She spotted the entrance to the neighboring dining room, raised the hem of her gown, and walked quickly toward it.

“Lauren!” He called after her. “Lauren!”

She ignored him and instead eased her way through the crowd. The dining room also was filled to capacity with couples, so that everyone stood shoulder to shoulder. It was like jostling for space in a conga line. She could barely hear Cris calling her name now. The murmur of the crowd and the symphony music echoed off the coffered ceilings and the forest green walls.

As Lauren pushed deeper and deeper into the throng, she glanced over her shoulder to see if she had lost him. Cris was peering around him, still searching for her. Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he turned. The partygoer smiled and shook his hand before introducing him to a woman and another man. Cris was once again dragged into a conversation, making the tenseness in Lauren's shoulders unravel.

That was close,
she thought. But she knew she couldn't do this forever. She couldn't keep avoiding him. Eventually, she would have to talk to him again.

But thankfully, tonight would not be the night.