Show and Tell (32 page)
“Lexa’s not twenty-one yet.”
She waved a hand. “Oh, pooh.” Patting Lexa’s hand, she rolled her eyes. “He like
never
”—she made a horrible face—“bends the rules. Has he
always
been like that?”
never
”—she made a horrible face—“bends the rules. Has he
always
been like that?”
“Dad?” Panic laced Lexa’s unnaturally high voice.
“Jessie’s teasing you, sweetie.” He took Trinity’s hand, squeezing her fingers. “Right?”
The heat in her glare would have toasted marshmallows. It certainly should have roasted his weenie. “I’m not teasing.” She jiggled his cheek again. “I
never
tease. I’m like totally straight up with everything I do and would never
dream
of playing tricks.” Then she dropped all trace of ditzy Valley girl. “Have I ever played a trick on you?”
never
tease. I’m like totally straight up with everything I do and would never
dream
of playing tricks.” Then she dropped all trace of ditzy Valley girl. “Have I ever played a trick on you?”
His gaze drifted over face. “No. You haven’t.”
“Totally up front,” she added with emphasis on each word.
The waiter arrived, but the wine had soaked into the tablecloth.
“Can I get you ladies a drink?” His vest extremely white, his hands deferentially behind his back, he waited.
Brooke glanced at her father. “I’ll have water, please.”
Lexa nodded. “The same, thank you.”
When he was gone, Scott refilled Trinity’s wineglass. “Don’t spill it, honey-sweetie,” he imitated her.
She was making the girls uncomfortable. They studied their menus as if they were schoolbooks. She was sure they thought her a total ditz, and as she glanced at Scott, she suddenly had an out-of-body experience. Rising above the restaurant, she saw Harper that very first day at her nail salon.
He’d mixed up his appointment time with hers, yet he’d hung around talking to her, fawning over her, helping her pick out her nail polish. Trinity realized she’d sounded like the same total ditz that she
feigned
for Scott’s daughters tonight.
feigned
for Scott’s daughters tonight.
She was not a stupid person, yet she donned a mask she thought men wanted, what made them feel bigger, better. Needed. Even Faith had accused her of “dumbing herself down.” For God’s sake, she had a college education. She wanted men to accept her for herself, but she’d never even shown a man who she really was. Not even Scott. For him, she’d played the mysterious femme fatale like Matty in
Body Heat
.
Body Heat
.
Her mind returned to her surroundings, as if she were floating back down into her own body. His head cocked, Scott watched her, perhaps waiting for the next zany remark.
She slipped on the face men wanted, hooked them by playing a role, let them call the shots, and gave them the control. Yet despite all that, she hadn’t tried to manipulate Scott. He had no right to trick her. There were rules to their relationship—and yes, they did have a relationship, even if it was odd—and he’d violated them. His insistence on changing things so soon pissed her off even more. Yes. Pissed. Her. Off.
She should have walked out, but his girls didn’t deserve the scene. Instead, she stayed, dropped the ditzy Valley girl act, enjoyed the meal, made scintillating conversation, pretended she was in the here and now.
Yet all the while, she plotted ways to show him
she
was in complete control of
this
relationship.
she
was in complete control of
this
relationship.
“HOW long have you known Jessie, Dad?” Brooke struggled to keep her tone conversational, even Scott could hear that.
“Three months.” The three was correct, the number of months a lie. But when discussing your sex life with your daughters, a few fabrications were in order.
“And how do you feel about her, Dad?” Lexa poured a soda from the fridge. They’d gathered in the kitchen. Since he’d already been over the hill, Brooke had driven the two of them to the restaurant, and he’d followed them home when dinner was over.
“She’s great,” he said, a noncommittal answer.
He shouldn’t have surprised Jezebel, a tactical error on his part. He’d jumped the gun and set her off. Women could be temperamental, and he had to admit, she had a right. He’d stepped over the bounds and tricked her, as she’d pointed out. Was the damage permanent? He hoped not, but he figured he’d have to dig himself out of the hole he’d dug.
Seating herself on one of the stools at the center island, Brooke held out her glass for Lexa to fill. They actually liked each other, at least once they’d both graduated from high school. Before that, the house had often been a war zone when someone borrowed something they shouldn’t have touched.
“But Dad, how well do you really know her?” Brooke asked what both girls wanted to know.
He almost laughed, but cut off the sound. “We’re getting to know each other.”
“Okay, now I don’t want you to think we’re ganging up or anything. ” Brooke eyed her sister. “But we talked about it on the way home, and we’re worried she might be a gold digger.”
This time he did laugh. “A
gold digger
? Where did you hear that old-fashioned term?”
gold digger
? Where did you hear that old-fashioned term?”
Lexa shrugged. “Gold digger, fortune hunter, money-grubbing blond bimbo, we’re trying to make sure she’s not after your investments or anything.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to say it was his body she wanted, not his money, but . . . they were his little girls. “Thanks for worrying, sweetie, but I’m a big boy, and I’ll make sure I keep my assets intact.” He knuckled the top of Lexa’s head.
She grabbed his hand. “Hey, you’re mussing my hair.”
“It’s not your assets we worry about.” Brooke ducked away when he went to knuckle her head. “It’s your heart.”
“Honey, I promise my heart’s not in danger.” That wasn’t entirely true. He’d claimed over and over that he wanted more than what she was giving him. Just as he’d gotten a taste of her loyalty and vulnerability over a Greek dinner, tonight he’d touched off her ire. She had emotions and feelings, and she could get pissed off and act out just like any other human being. The question was did he value the mystery over the reality.
Even after her antics tonight, the answer was yes. He still wanted a chance to see what could grow between them. “Did you at least like her a little bit?”
Neither of them said a word, Brooke studiously concentrating on the soda glass.
It was a stupid question.
Jessie
had gone out of her way to act the blond bimbo. He had to admit it had been his screwup for tricking her, just as she’d said. But she’d done such a damn good job of appearing like a brainless tart. He’d found himself wanting to laugh even as she made him look like a fool in front of his daughters. That should have pissed him off royally; instead, he’d enjoyed the sparring. Maybe she did make him a little crazy, because most fathers would hold that against the new lady in his life. Yet he’d asked for her little punishment.
Jessie
had gone out of her way to act the blond bimbo. He had to admit it had been his screwup for tricking her, just as she’d said. But she’d done such a damn good job of appearing like a brainless tart. He’d found himself wanting to laugh even as she made him look like a fool in front of his daughters. That should have pissed him off royally; instead, he’d enjoyed the sparring. Maybe she did make him a little crazy, because most fathers would hold that against the new lady in his life. Yet he’d asked for her little punishment.
Finally, his youngest piped up. “She’s a bit of a twit, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, Dad,” Brooke joined in. “What do you see in her?”
Lexa slapped her elbow. “Duh.”
The allusion to sex lay on the island counter between them.
Brooke stuck her fingers in her ears. “Ewwe. I don’t want to hear.”
“It’s not
that
, girls.” It was more. She made him feel alive, and he hadn’t had that in a long, long time. Were
his
emotions about the woman herself, or more about what was going on with him at this stage of his life? Probably a bit of both.
that
, girls.” It was more. She made him feel alive, and he hadn’t had that in a long, long time. Were
his
emotions about the woman herself, or more about what was going on with him at this stage of his life? Probably a bit of both.
“Right, Dad,” Lexa scoffed. “You might be old, but it’s not like you’re totally ancient.”
“I’m not listening, I’m not listening,” Brooke chanted, until Lexa pulled her fingers out of her ears.
“We’re wondering”—Lexa smiled as if her question needed softening—“if you’re thinking marriage or anything.”
“We aren’t there, sweetie.” Marriage was a giant step beyond a mere relationship. “But she has this view of life that’s amazing.” He stopped. Telling his daughters how Jezebel affected him was like trying to describe a sunset to a blind man. “I wanted you to meet her. And like her.”
Though he’d blown that one. He could only hope he hadn’t completely blown the rest of what he wanted, which was more of the way his mystery Jezebel made him feel.
Would he retain this sense of vitality, of truly living life, with another woman? Scott didn’t know for sure, but he wasn’t willing to let her go until he found out.
15
AT the end of the workday on Monday, Trinity sent him a message. “Happy
After
Valentine’s Day. Meet me for drinks.”
After
Valentine’s Day. Meet me for drinks.”
It was appropriately snarky after the way Scott had tricked her on Friday. If he was smart, he’d expect a trick. She named a time, allowing her to get home after work, change into her night’s costume, and arrive half an hour early, this hotel different from the one at which they’d met twice before.
Elevator music played, and candles burned in red vases. Trinity chewed a cashew. The hotel bar wasn’t crowded, even for a convention. She’d found a seat at the far end of the counter, and a willing victim. Norman was older, but she liked older men, as evidenced by her attraction to that rat, Scott Sinclair.
“And what do you do?” she asked. Men always found themselves to be the most scintillating topic of conversation.
“Software engineer.” He had the slightly soft belly of a desk worker to prove it, though he was handsome, with sandy salt-and-pepper hair, blue eyes, and a nice smile.
“And you’re in town for . . . ,” Trinity trailed off, raised a brow, and smiled, though Norman didn’t appear interested in her smile. He liked her cleavage in the low-cut slut top. The Lycra darn near bonded to her chest. And wow, when she’d stood in front of the mirror, she had breasts.
“The convention here at the hotel,” he managed.
Trinity recrossed her legs, and Norman’s eyes dropped to the brevity of her tight black micromini skirt, or rather the thigh her skirt revealed.
“You must be so intelligent, charming, and articulate,” she murmured, “to talk all day about your software.”
He sat straighter on his barstool and smoothed his tie. “Well, not everybody has the technical knowledge.”
“I’ll bet not. You must have a doctorate.” She gave him a little moue. “
Dr.
Norman. It has
such
a ring to it.”
Dr.
Norman. It has
such
a ring to it.”
“No, no. I only have a masters degree.”
She sighed and gazed at him with wonder. “
Only
a masters? Please, that’s such an accomplishment.”
Only
a masters? Please, that’s such an accomplishment.”
Norman preened. “You almost have to have a masters these days to get anywhere.”
She nodded sadly. “I wish I’d gone to college. But it seemed so hard.” All right, she was donning a mask, but this time it was for a good cause, a little Scott tease. Picking up her margarita, she licked the salt along the rim.
Norman went bug-eyed, and a drop of sweat rolled down his temple. “Here, let me get you another.” He waved at the bartender without taking his eyes off her mouth.
“Why, thank you, Norman. I surely do appreciate that. I’m so thirsty, for some reason.”
Norman looked positively parched as he ordered another rum and Coke and her margarita refill. The bartender, black-haired, black-eyed, and younger than she was, eyed her with boredom, as if he’d seen the pickup too many times.
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