Jennifer Crusie Bundle (32 page)

“Tess,” Gina said pleadingly.

“Okay, okay. I'm sorry. Let's try this again.” Tess took a deep breath and smiled a nice bright toothpaste smile. “Hello, Park, it's good to see you again.”

Park smiled back tightly. “Always a pleasure, Tess.”

“Now see,” Nick said, “that wasn't so hard, was it?”

Tess shot him a look of contempt and took Gina's arm. “I need to talk to you,” she whispered before she turned to Park and Nick and said, “Gina and I are going to go find the ladies' room to freshen our lipstick.”

All three of them looked at her with varying degrees of surprise.

“All right,” Tess said. “Gina will freshen hers, and I'll put some on.”

“Right,” Gina said, gamely picking up her cue. “That would be good.”

Tess pulled Gina up the stairs to the master bathroom in search of privacy. When the door was shut behind them, she turned to Gina. “I'm worried about you. It would be a bad idea to get hung up on Park.”

“Look at this bathroom.” Gina drifted past the walls covered in mint green hand-painted tiles to stroke the porcelain of the huge pale green tub. “I don't think I've ever seen tile without mildew before. This is so
beautiful.
”

Tess ducked under one of the dozen ferns that was suspended from the ceiling and looked around, annoyed. “If this is what the rain forest looks like, I'm going to stop trying to save it.”

“Oh, Tess.” Gina sank into the rattan chair beside the tub. “Admit it. This is paradise.”

“No, it isn't. You're just confused because of the vegetation. This is merely an extremely pretentious bathroom. I bet Norbert Welch wears a sarong when he's in here. No, that's not right. Guys don't wear sarongs. A loincloth.” She thought about Welch as she'd seen him pictured on the back of his last book, short, hefty and sullen, only this time in a loincloth. “Maybe not.”

“I don't mean just the bathtub,” Gina said. “I mean everything. Everything about the way these people live. Park took me out for a drink before we left. At The Levee.” Her voice fell, hushed, on the last word.

“I've been,” Tess said, nodding. “Nick took me once. Overpriced food, obsequious waiters and really good wine. If they'd put in a drive-through, I'd consider going back for the wine.”

“It was so beautiful,” Gina went on, not hearing her. “And everybody was so nice and there weren't any prices on the menu.”

“If you have to ask, you can't afford it,” Tess said. “And they weren't nice. They were sucking up. If you were a nobody, they'd have spat on you.”

“Well, that's the point,” Gina said. “I am a nobody. But when I'm with Park, I'm somebody.”

“This conversation is taking an ugly turn,” Tess said sternly. “You are
not
a nobody.”

Gina sank back slowly in the chair, drawing her fingers back and forth across the flawless porcelain of the tub next to her as she spoke. “Ever since Park picked me up, I haven't worried about anything. I know the car's not gonna break down, that there's gonna be enough money to pay for the drinks, that Park's not gonna wrestle me down on the car seat, and that it doesn't matter that my step-ball-change is not as good as it used to be.”

“Don't bet on the Park-and-the-car-seat part,” Tess said, but she sounded distracted. She slid her spine down the bathroom door and sat up on the floor, trying not to tear the seams out of her crepe dress. “Are you still serious about giving up your dancing?”

“Yes.” Gina met Tess's eyes. “I'm done. I'm tired and I hurt. I've always hurt, every dancer hurts, but somehow it hurts more now. I want to settle down and find a nice job in the theater selling tickets or something, and then find a nice man and have some kids and a real life.”

Tess leaned her head back against the door and closed her eyes. “Tell me you're not thinking of Park as a nice man.”

“Listen.” Gina leaned forward. “I know that marrying Park is not for me. But he is a nice man. And he's treated me like a queen all night. I've never been out with anybody like him.”

“I can believe that,” Tess said. “There is nobody like him. He's Andrew Dice Clay with breeding.”

“No, he's not,” Gina insisted. “He's
nice.
He's a good person. I
like
him.”

“Fine.” Tess held up her hands in alarm. “Fine. Just don't get serious about him. Don't count on him.”

Gina laughed mirthlessly. “Oh, I'm not. I know he's not my future. In fact, I'm working on my future. The Charles Theater needs a secretary. I've got an interview Monday afternoon.”

“A secretary?” Tess had a vivid, horrific vision of Gina chained to a typewriter. “You can't type. Think of something else.”

Gina slumped back in her chair again. “Could you just once be supportive?”

“I'm sorry,” Tess said, appalled at the look on her friend's face. “I'm really sorry. I think you'd make a fantastic addition to any theater. I think you'd be the best thing that ever happened to Park. I think you're the best friend I've ever had, and I'm really sorry I've been such a bummer here. Give me a minute and I'll be supportive. I just wasn't thinking.”

“You don't need a minute,” Gina said gloomily. “Park is probably already looking for another woman, and you're right, I can't type.”

Tess shook her head, scrambling through her thoughts to find something positive. “That doesn't matter. You know the theater better than any secretary could possibly know it. And you know theater people. They'd be crazy not to snap you up as some kind of administrative assistant. And I think you should tell them that.” Tess warmed to her subject. “They'd be crazy to waste you typing and filing. Tell them everything you've done, everything you know, tell them—”

“Tess…”

Tess stopped.

“It's okay,” Gina said. “The job part isn't that big a deal. But please, let me have this weekend with Park without making any snotty cracks.”

Tess swallowed. “You've got it.”

“Thank you.” Gina bit her lip.

Tess blinked back tears that had somehow formed when she wasn't paying attention. “But if he's not good to you, I will take him apart.”

“He's good to me,” Gina said. “He's really good to me. He told me I was the nicest person he'd ever dated and that I make him laugh and that I'm beautiful. He thinks I'm beautiful.”

“You are beautiful.”

“I look Italian,” Gina said.

“You are Italian,” Tess said, confused. “Beautifully Italian.”

“I know,” Gina said, exasperated. “But Park is probably one of those guys who only dates WASPs. WASPs with college educations and ivy growing on them. And he thinks I'm beautiful.”

“Well, hell, he should,” Tess said. “Even I don't think Park's such a snob that he'd only date Ivy League blondes.”

“You don't understand,” Gina said. “I never even graduated from high school, and he still listens to me. He's wonderful.”

“I don't think education is a big criteria for Park's dates,” Tess said. “And who cares whether you graduated or not? You're still a great person and you've been everywhere and you know a hell of a lot about the world. Of course he listens to you.”

“You don't understand,” Gina said hopelessly.

“All right,” Tess said, but she had a sinking feeling that she did understand, only too well. Gina had fallen for Park and it was all her fault. She'd fixed them up.
Good job, Tess,
she told herself, and then shook her head when Gina frowned at her. “All right,” she said again. “I'm with you on this.”

“Good.” Gina swallowed nervously. “Do you think it would be okay if I had some gum?”

“No,” Tess said. “But what the hell, chew it, anyway.”

“No,” Gina said. “I'm not gonna embarrass Park. If you see me doing anything dumb, stop me.”

“Don't change for him,” Tess insisted, appalled. “Don't do it. You're a great person.”

“Just for the weekend,” Gina said. “Just for this weekend.”

“L
ONG TIME
in the bathroom,” Nick said when they went back to the party, but he was smiling at her as if he'd missed her, and she felt pleased and then immediately kicked herself for feeling pleased. Big deal, he'd missed her. So what. Then he put his arm around her, and she forgot Gina and her problems for a moment and just enjoyed the weight and warmth of his arm on her back and the pleasure of being with him again.
Steady,
she told herself, trying hard not to lean into him.
Get through this weekend and get out, because this man is not for you. He has bad values and worse ambitions. Remember that.

But all she said was, “We got lost in the ferns. They should hand out machetes at the door.”

“Well, don't disappear again,” Nick said. “We're going in to dinner soon.” Then he leaned over and whispered in her ear, “There are two Decker board members here. Watch your step, don't say
anything
controversial and smile at everybody.”

“Who are the board members?” Tess whispered back.

“Annalise Donaldson and Robert Tyler.” Nick nodded toward a portly gray-haired man on the other side of the room. “That's Tyler. I haven't seen Donaldson yet, but she's here. Welch said so.”

“Donaldson, Tyler,” Tess said. “She collects terra-cotta, he's a big Bengals fan.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “And how do we know this?”

“We did our research,” Tess said. “Lead me to 'em. I'm ready.”

“Dinner is served,” Henderson announced.

Welch had evidently given up his lust for leather in the dining room, but the same giant walnut furniture prevailed and the same beige paper striped the walls. Tess speculated that maybe he'd gotten a deal from a walnut-and-wallpaper place, but before she could share her theory with Nick, Henderson showed them to their seats. Tess was next to Norbert Welch at the head of the table with Nick on her right and Park and Gina across the table from them, one seat down. An attractive blond woman came to take the chair between Welch and Park.

“So this is the little woman,” Welch said to Nick as they reached the table, and Tess turned to look at him in disbelief. Nobody in her life had ever called her a little woman.

For a great American author, he was a lot younger and a lot shorter than she'd expected, even after seeing his photo on the book jacket. He couldn't be past his early fifties and his eyes were a couple of inches below hers, which meant he was five six at most. But his face lived up to legend. He looked like a macho literary lion: his thick mane of white hair was so long it covered his ears and then waved back from his battered, square-jawed face, a weathered prize-fighter kind of face that was etched with a permanent scowl. He was the only person in the room who didn't look as if he'd been designed to go with the decor.

Tess blinked when she realized that he was studying her as closely as she was studying him.

“Good to see you again, sir,” Nick said as he reached across Tess to shake Welch's hand. “I don't believe you've met my fiancée, Tess Newhart.”

“I don't believe I have,” Welch rumbled. “So you're the future Mrs. Jamieson.”

Tess resisted the urge to explain that she'd be keeping her maiden name, since the point was moot, given that she wasn't marrying Nick. She smiled instead and heard Nick give a very small sigh of relief next to her. “That's me. Thank you for inviting us to your home. We're enjoying ourselves tremendously. And I can't wait to hear your new book. Henderson told us earlier that you're reading from it tomorrow.” She started to ask him where he'd bought Henderson and if they took MasterCard, but Welch overrode her.

“I bet you can't wait,” Welch said. “The question is, have you read any of my other books? Or are you waiting for the movies?”

“Oh, I've read them all,” Tess said. “I was assigned
The Last Promise
in college, and then read the other two on my own. Of course that was many years ago. How long has it been since
Disenchanted Evenings?
Fifteen years?”

“Why don't you sit down now, Tess?” Nick said to her grimly, pulling out her chair for her. “And remember where you are.”

“Back off, Jamieson,” Welch snapped at him. “When I can't take it, I'll let you know.”

“Actually I really am looking forward to hearing you read,” Tess said, sinking into her chair.

“Because you're so taken with my philosophy?” Welch asked, baiting her.

“No, I'm not crazy about your philosophy,” Tess said. “I just like your writing.”

She smiled at him cheerfully, and Welch blinked in disgruntled surprise. “Thank you.”