Sleeping with Beauty (32 page)

Grady hoped Jason appreciated her loyalty and fierce tenacity. Grady did. Always had. He just wished it wasn’t focused on him right now.

He downed the rest of the mug, then mercifully turned away from her to rinse it out and sit it on the drain rack. “Can I get some sleep first?”

He felt as much as heard her sigh. “Sure. But don’t make me camp out on your doorstep again.”

“I won’t.”

He didn’t turn around, but instead went about dumping out the rest of the coffee and setting up the filter for the morning. Which was now only a scant few hours away.

She let out a long, disappointed-sounding breath, and moved to the door. “Well, that’s a start.”

He wasn’t sure about that. And as she let herself out of the apartment moments later and closed the door behind her, he could only think that it felt a lot more like an end to him.

Chapter
25
                                                                                                                                       

S
o, have you talked to him since?”

Lucy juggled the phone to one ear as she held up first one dress, then another, frowning at both. “Once or twice, but only for him to tell me he’s too busy to get together.”

She heard Jana sigh on the other end of the line. “Yeah. He’s working—”

“On a really top-secret project, I know.”

When Jana didn’t say anything, Lucy wished she hadn’t brought it up. “So,” Jana said with forced cheer, “where is hotshot taking you tonight? You’ve become quite the Capitol Hill socialite these past few weeks.”

Lucy smiled, but she didn’t feel as giddy about it as she wished she did. “He does move in interesting circles,” she said, discarding yet another dress. “I’m going to need a raise if he keeps taking me out to these fancy functions. My wardrobe can’t keep up.”

“Are they the same people? Can’t you recycle?”

“Yes, a lot of the same people. And no one recycles.”

“Well, I wish I could help you out, but somehow I don’t think anything in my closet screams ‘socialite.’ ‘Sociopath,’ maybe.”

Lucy grinned at that. But the next dress still went into the discard pile.

“So, how are things going with Jason? I mean, really going?”

“You mean, have we gone to bed together yet?”

“Actually, I was thinking about conversation, bonding, affection, but, yes, that question had crossed my mind.”

“Well, you know how it is, there are so many people at these dinner parties and he’s trying to make the rounds, be impressive where he needs to be, charm the ones he needs to charm. My job is just—”

“Arm candy. Got it.”

That should have stung, but it didn’t. Mostly because it was true. She’d become increasingly aware that Jason was using her, but she could hardly run to Jana with her suspicions. Not unless she wanted a big fat “I told you so.” And she wasn’t ready to hear that yet.

“But when he picks you up, or on the way home, don’t you two talk then? And he calls, right?”

Only to ask me to be his escort again.
“Of course we talk,” she said.
About how busy he is, how he wishes he had more free time.
“But he’s a busy guy. I guess I should be glad he’s wining and dining me.”

“Sounds more like he’s wining and dining his clients, or prospective clients, I should say, and taking you along for show-and-tell.”

“Hey, can you believe Lucy Harper would ever be considered ‘show-and-tell’ for a hotshot lawyer?” she joked, trying to lighten the tone.

“Is that what this is for you? Just an ego-stroke thing? God knows, we all need that from time to time, but . . .”

“I know.” Lucy dropped any pretense she had about trying to paint a better picture. “He’s always the perfect gentleman. He kisses me hello and good night, but they’re not passionate kisses.” Not like that night at the dance. Or maybe that one hadn’t been, either, and she’d been so caught up in the moment that she hadn’t really noticed. “He always compliments me on how I look, makes me feel good about myself.”

“I’m not surprised about the first part, since that’s what he needs you for. But there’s more to making a woman feel good than flattering her outfit. Do you two talk about you? About your day?”

She wanted to say they would if they just had more time. But she didn’t have the energy required to try and pull that off. “I’ve been telling myself he would if we had more time. I guess I’m realizing we don’t have time because he doesn’t make time. And I can’t call him because he’s always in a meeting, or out of town. But a week hasn’t gone by when we haven’t gone out.”

“Have you ever gone out to something that’s not a business function?”

Lucy sat on the edge of her bed, her latest selection puddling in her lap. “He says he wishes we had time alone, too. But, no. No, we haven’t. He really is busy. And yes, I know that’s a lame excuse, but it happens to be true.”

“You won’t buy it from Grady, so why buy it from Jason?”

She started to say “Because I don’t want Grady to fall in love with me,” but stopped herself. Until that moment, what she thought she wanted was for Jason to realize the prize he really had on his arm. He kept asking her to be his date, so obviously he was impressed with her. Or maybe he was just impressed with her availability. “I don’t know,” she told Jana morosely. “Maybe I’m going out with him because other prospects aren’t lining up.”

“Maybe they aren’t because they think you’re spoken for.”

“So what do I do?”

“Just say no?” Jana quipped.

“Ha-ha.”

“Maybe you should,” Jana said, serious now. “Tell him you’re busy. See if that nudges him to give you more of himself than an arm to another business function.”

“If I say no, he’ll just go to the next number in his Yellow Pages–size black book. I think I say yes because I like it that he calls me first. I feel like I have an edge; I just have to exploit it.”

“And do you? Do you feel like you two honestly know more about each other than you did that first night at dinner? Has he made even the smallest effort to get to know you better?”

“Well, he’s not putting the moves on me, either, so it’s not like he’s using me for sex.” Much to her dismay. “He does seem to respect me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I think you’re being blind as a bat. He is using you as an escort service. And don’t take this the wrong way, but if he wants sex, chances are he’s hooking up with someone else for that. Sex with you would lead to expectations. You’re his No-Strings Business Party Date and they are his No-Strings Sex Hookups. It would be exactly his style.”

Lucy sat there, knowing Jana was absolutely right. “He’s supposed to pick me up in an hour.”

“So answer the door in your bathrobe. Tell him you’re sick and can’t go.”

“I should do that,” she said with absolutely no enthusiasm. It would mean never seeing him again, and though she should probably embrace that idea with everything she had, the truth was, she wasn’t ready to give that up.

“Are you really enjoying rubbing elbows with the upper crust?”

“At first it was a little exciting, sure. But I think that’s wearing off a bit. No one expects me to make conversation, which was a relief initially, but now it’s sort of condescending and irritating.”

“Lucy Harper, bimbo. Another title you never thought you’d have.”

Jana had said it kindly, and they both laughed. “God, I don’t know what to do, J.”

“You still want him in bed, don’t you?”

“Wouldn’t you? I mean, he’s gorgeous and he’s dating me, and hell, I haven’t had sex in, like, forever. Of course I want him in bed. At least once.”

“Yeah, because he’s proven himself to be such a giver. I’m betting he’s a lousy lay.”

Lucy sighed. “I’d defend him, but I’m too afraid you might be right about that, too.”

“Well, I do understand the neediness. Dave hasn’t made love to me since I confessed my deepest darkest. It’s like he doesn’t know what to do with my fragile emotions and he’s afraid he’ll hurt me somehow. And I’m needing the intimacy, you know?”

Lucy had no idea and couldn’t imagine what Jana was going through. But she was miserable for her, that much she knew. “I’m so sorry.”

“He’ll come around in time. He’s too much a guy to go without forever.”

Lucy laughed with her.

“So if you really mean it about getting laid, why not answer the door in your sexiest slinky-little-nothing, with a bottle of champagne in one hand and a fist full of condoms in the other, and just seduce the guy. You know by now the kind of things he likes. He all but tells you how to dress, right?”

“It’s not like that,” she said, except it was just like that. Jana had pointed that out after their second date, and though Lucy liked to think it was flattering that he noticed what she wore and he always told her in such a way as to make her feel good, in the end, it was what it was. Jason being a control freak. “Maybe he’s a control freak in bed, too,” she said, then was disappointed when there was no accompanying shiver of anticipation to go along with that mental image.

“Maybe.” Jana didn’t sound too enthused at the idea, either.

“And maybe I don’t think I can seduce him. I mean, why risk ending this relationship on the humiliating note of yet another rejection by Jason Prescott.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

Her doorbell sounded just then and she leapt off the bed. “Oh, my God, that can’t be him already. It’s early. He’s never early. I was supposed to meet him downstairs and I’m not even dressed.”

“Maybe that’s destiny calling, then. Hang up with me and just go answer the door like you are. And let whatever happens, happen.”

“Jana, I’m in ratty sweats, with my hair in hot rollers and a green clay mask on my face.” She looked down. “And cotton swabs between my toes.”

“Oh, my God, you’re Patty Duke,” Jana teased.

“Shut up,” she said, even as she laughed. “No more TV Land for you. It’s just what I’ve gotta do. It doesn’t mean I like it.”

“You don’t ‘gotta do’ anything. You’re gorgeous just like you are.”

Lucy groaned as the doorbell sounded again. “Yeah. A real knockout. Listen, I gotta go do . . . something. With my face. With my . . . everything.”

Jana was laughing on the other end of the line. “I’m telling you, just grab him by the tie and drag him to bed. He won’t care what color your skin is as long as most of it’s naked. You’ll get what you want, then you can kick his ass out when you’re done. Use him for a change, sweetie. Fair is fair.”

“You are so not funny.” Lucy clicked off on Jana’s continued laughter.

The ringing doorbell was replaced by sharp knocking.

“Coming!” she called out, then did one of those panic dances where you take two steps to the bathroom, then turn around and grab everything off the bed, hop up and down while trying to figure out where to stash all your crap. Just in case, you know, the bed did come into play. In some alternate universe. Then she caught sight of her face in the closet mirror, promptly dropped the clothes and raced to the bathroom. “Just a minute!” she yelled as she turned on the knobs full force and began scrubbing the green goo off her skin. She was supposed to steam it off with towels, and as the stuff started to crack and grab at her skin as she all but clawed it off, she began to see why. “Ouch! Shit! Dammit!”

More knocking, more bell ringing.

“For God’s sake, hold your horses!” Giving up on the goo, happy that most of it was gone, she yanked at the rollers as she hurried to the door, knowing it was too late to do anything about her clothes. She was tossing rollers and pins onto the chair by the front door when a voice called out:

“Lucy, darling? Are you home? I have something for you!”

She slumped against the door. Vivian. She peeked through the peephole and sure enough, her fairy godmother stood on the other side in all her teased-red-flames of hair and painted-face glory.

She unbolted and unchained and unlocked the door and opened it, not sure if she was happy to see her or dreading whatever—or whomever—the hell she might have brought with her. She sighed in relief to discover Vivian was alone.

Unless you counted the bulging garment bag she’d slung over one bangle-braceleted arm. “Hi there, darling,” she said, giving Lucy an air kiss on one cheek as she breezed into her apartment on a wafting cloud of Black Cashmere.

“Hi, yourself,” Lucy said, closing the door behind her. She caught her reflection in the tiny hat-stand mirror by the door and blanched. Her face was a vista of blotchy red patches from ripping off the mask and her hair was still half in rollers, the other half having already drooped into a rat’s nest of tangled loop-de-loops. Great. She looked like Princess Leia after a three-day coke binge. Pasting on a smile, she turned to face Vivian. “What brings you to this neck of the woods?”

If she noticed Lucy’s less-than-desirable appearance, she was too politic to say anything about it. Or, more likely, simply chose not to. Vivian was rarely politic about anything. “A little birdie told me you were attending the Governor’s Ball at the Kennedy Center tonight. So I thought you might need something smashing to wear. I’d have come sooner, but I only managed to wangle the delivery of this sumptuous confection this afternoon.” She looked around for someplace to hang up the bag.

Lucy crossed the room. “Here,” she said, pointing to her bedroom door. She took the bag, surprised by the weight of it, and hung it on the outside of her door. “Wow.”

“Bugle beads,” Vivian said by way of explanation. “One of Bob’s favorite designs.”

“Bob?”

“Why, Mackie, darling, of course. You’re going to knock all their socks off tonight.” She stepped closer and peered at Lucy’s face. “Oh, dear. I thought it was unfortunate lighting.”

“Mask incident.”

Vivian brushed her hands together. “No matter, foundation will cover a multitude of sins.” She grinned. “And I should know.”

Lucy smiled weakly in response. “You didn’t have to do this, Vivian. You know how much I appreciate it, but—”