Spicing Up Trouble: a romantic comedy (32 page)

Irene smiled.

"If anyone looks at her cross-eyed, I want you to tell me," he said to my sisters.

"We can defend ourselves and our own," Irene said.

"I don't doubt it. Zeus help the one who challenges you," Ben said as he winked at Irene.

"I'm ready. Bring them on," I said.

I had my knight, my shield, and my fire-breathing dragon.

We left the condo and went downstairs to where Mark waited by the car. He looked spiffy in his tux. He opened the door for me.

"Hello, Mom," a husky voice greeted me from the back seat.

I squealed and threw my arms around Mr. Cobb.

"I'm so glad to see you. I wasn't sure you were coming."

"I wouldn't miss your official debut for anything. I'll be here all week for the holidays."

"I feel much better surrounded by the Cobb men and the Hale women," I said as we all settled in our seats.

"My dear, you're all the buzz. Ben is the dark spooky type. Everyone is dying to see who's tangled in his web. You will leave them breathless. Alexia, you are traveling with the worst men of Chicago society," his father said with a note of pride.

"What did you naughty boys do? Run off with the minister's wife or church funds?" Eleanor asked, touching his arm.

"TMI," Irene said.

"Careful, Irene, or I'll write your cell number on the bathroom wall," Eleanor said.

"How are you going to get in the guys' bathroom?" Irene asked.

Eleanor leaned back on her elbow and put her finger to her lips. We all laughed as Irene folded her arms.

"Stick close to the cobra's pit. This is our show. Expect your every move to be documented. Simply smile, finger your necklace, and rub your belly," Mr. Cobb said as he kissed my trembling hand.

I was slightly reassured.

"You're on the radar screen. Don't worry," Ben said, putting his arm around me.

I need a new topic besides my impending fall on my face.

"Am I allowed to bid on anything?" I asked.

"If you want to, but everything in the auction we can get any time you want," Ben said matter-of-factly.

Eleanor smiled and Irene shook her head.

The lions at the Art Institute were decked out in their Christmas wreaths. The foyer filled with twinkling blue lights. A gorgeous tree had been outfitted with one-of-a-kind ornaments based on Helen's books. Local artists were drafted for the job. All the decorations were up for auction. I went right for the bid book. Ben held my arm.

"I ordered a full set for you."

"Thank you," I said as I kissed him.

Cameras went off around us. Ben returned my hug. There was a burst of applause. Mr. Cobb escorted my sisters and they quickly disappeared into the crowd.

"Show time," Ben whispered in my ear.

We made a striking couple. He was the tall, dark, and brooding husband. The black clothes accented his chiseled features. My dress, in contrast, made my skin glisten like porcelain. My curled hair spun down my back and framed my face. My necklace and earrings caught the dazzling lights.

Men tripped over their feet to meet me. I held the keys to the kingdom of Cobb: the art, the money, and the legacy. The women were gracious but reserved. Some had known Helen and knew her men, too.

Ben and, later on, his father squired me around. I suited both of them. With Ben, I was the adoring wife. Looks of love and demure pride. With his father, I played the dutiful daughter and shy child. They were both attentive and deferential with me. I caught glimpses of my sisters, surrounded by male admirers.

As the evening wore on, I grew weary of smiling and shaking hands. I wanted to find a quiet corner, curl up, and sleep. I went to the ladies room instead and found a small lounge with a smaller couch. It had my name written all over it.

I sat, slipped off my shoes, closed my eyes, and pretended to be one of the many statutes in the museum's collection.

"You're Mrs. Benjamin Nance Cobb," a sarcastic voice interrupted my semi-slumber.

"I'm sorry. I don't believe we've met," I said as I sat up.

"I'm Terri Cohen. I fucked your husband."

"Tonight?" I asked boldly.

"No. Last year on the Fourth of July."

"Thank you for sharing," I said as I closed my eyes again.

"What's so special about you? How did you get him?" Terri asked, determined to find out.

"I'm a witch, and he's under a spell," I said as I put a wicked cackle in my voice.

"What?" Terri said, backing up to the door, just in case I told the truth.

"Ms. Cohen, I've had a long week. I'm not used to being on display. If there's nothing else, please leave me alone."

"Stuck up bitch."

"Dried up whore," I said.

Terri left in a huff as another door opened. A woman of about seventy stood there smiling. She obviously had heard everything. She strolled over to me and extended her hand.

"I'm Martha Porter, Alexia. I knew your mother-in-law. She would be proud of you. Don't let a little trollop spoil your triumph. The night is yours my dear. Snaring Ben was the coup of the century. Get use to the barbs though. Your husband has had quite a past. Get some rest now. The babies are ready for bed. I'll tell Ben to come and get you."

I emerged feeling refreshed and ready for all comers. Ben swaggered toward me smiling. He kissed me and took my arm.

"I'm sorry about Terri," he said.

"Oh, you heard about that?" I gave a slight shrug. "Are there many more?"

"How many is many?"

I put my head on his shoulder.

"If it's any consolation, you're the last," he said.

"It will have to do."

"Are you ready to leave?" he asked, nodding to people along the way.

"Please."

"Did you bid on anything?"

"Your mom's painting," I said.

"My dad wrote down fifteen thousand dollars. I doubt you'll beat it."

"That's okay. I have my own originals," I said as I touched my stomach.

He kissed me again.

"I love you, Alexia."

I closed my eyes and hugged him tightly.

"So much," I whispered.

Ben found Mark and put me in the limo.

"Don't wait up. Get some sleep. You're the talk of the town," he said.

I tried to look thrilled, but knew I was grist for the mill. Flavor of the month. Hopefully all interest in me would fade soon.

"I'll be fine. Keep an eye on Eleanor and Irene," I said.

"I'm not worried about them. They have their own entourages by now," Ben said.

I smiled because it was true. They were social-climbing butterflies or cougars, depending on the time of the month or the pull of the tide.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Exhausted, yet still, I couldn't sleep. I knew Terri Cohen meant nothing to him, but how many former flames were out there? What did I expect a list titled "Where are they now?" I obsessed. Had he loved any of them and for how long?

I had paced the living room a hundred times before he came in.

"Didn't I pour your yawning body into a limo a couple of hours ago?" he asked as he slipped out of his suit coat. He leaned in for a kiss. I leaned back. "What did I do?"

"The question is how many have you done."

I was mad at him and at myself for being mad at him. He sat down and put his feet up.

"Terri Cohen is a bitch, and she was when she was Terri Markham, too. She's a trophy wife who married a guy twenty years older than dirt. She thought he'd keep up his twenty-four/seven work weeks. Instead he retired and took up gardening. He also set up a charitable foundation and has given millions away. She sees it as her money, but if she leaves him, the pre-nup gives her nothing. His kids already have their pieces of the inheritance pie and are encouraging their father's philanthropy. She's angry at the world, and you were convenient. Our relationship lasted for three dinners and one sexual encounter. I got what I wanted and never called again."

I sat on the couch with my head down. He knelt in front of me and took my hands.

"There are a lot of them. I'm sorry. I didn't think I'd ever fall in love, get married, and have children. I lived in the moment. I never planned or even contemplated my future. I certainly never meant for any of it to touch you. I've got a lot of baggage. I'm sorry you're stuck carrying some."

"I don't blame them. I jumped at the chance to sleep with you. I enjoy it more than I can say. Maybe someday I'll brag about it, too. I wish I had met you sooner," I said.

"If I met you any earlier, you would have been jail bait and worth it."

"I need a thicker hide."

"I hear you held your own. And your skin is fine," he said, running his hand up my leg.

"Only because I was tired and she disturbed my nap."

"You were a sensation tonight. I heard nothing but good things."

"What else would they say to you?"

"My spies reported back. Only people I know well approached me."

"Spies?" He had his own paparazzi army?

"Sure, I had some friends fan out over the crowd and stick their ears in."

"Did anyone say I looked fat?"

"No, but some thought your back and butt were exquisite. I wholeheartedly agree," he said and kissed my knee.

"I knew my butt looked huge," I said.

"Big bootys rule. There are songs praising them," he said, moving up to my neck. "What are your plans for the rest of the evening?"

"Sit up a little longer." Although, my anger and resolve dissolved together.

"Come to bed and hold me. I'm afraid of the dark." He pushed the robe off my shoulders and went for the buttons on my nightgown. "Alexia, there's only you now. I love you, and I need you. Please come to bed."

Someday I would be forceful and not succumb to his charms.

The lovemaking started sweet, but we both craved the other's touch and taste. We sped up, driving each other to the peak. Never the same, always gratifying. Heaven help me, I loved this man.

I dreamt I attended a party similar to tonight, but all of the guests were beautiful women. All ages, sizes, and styles. They all gave me knowing looks. Ben's past in living color. Every move made in silence, no disapproval or hatred, just observation. It unnerved me. I got to the other side of the room and stood before a door. Ben stepped in and surveyed the room. The women moved closer. Some smiled, some started to undress. His glance settled on me, and he held out his hand. Another person appeared in the doorway.

"Leave my mommy alone."

We both smiled at our baby boy.

Gotcha ya, bitches.

The next day, a few websites featured pictures from the party. The Cobb men and I were in most of them. They were head spinning gorgeous. I photographed plump. An accompanying article listed the who's who of guests, described the menu, and plugged the museum.

"Who is that striking woman, and why is she being followed around by such sullen men?" Ben asked as he pointed at the picture.

"They were her bodyguards, both armed and dangerous. The older gentleman is a fugitive and the mastermind of several bank heists. Rumor has it she's pregnant with the younger one's love child."

"The scoundrel. He should do the right thing and marry her."

"She's too young. No connections. He would gain nothing."

"Except the love of my life," he said as he kissed me. "What are you doing today?"

"Surfing the net. I'm interested in any questions about last night. Did you want me for anything?"

"You have to ask," he said, reaching for me over the counter.

I pretended to duck, letting him catch me.

"When you get bigger, it's going to be harder. We need to make love as much as possible now to tide us over," he said.

"This would not be a good time to ask you what you want for Christmas."

His devilish grin and irresistible dimple crept back across his face as he cleared off the counter.

An hour and a shower later, I sat at my desk. My emails related to general information about the museum. I wondered how to answer another question.

How did Ben and I meet? An inquiring mind wanted to know. We needed a family friendly story for our children. They shouldn't see my portrait when Ben finished it. It should go into storage. That's what I wanted for Christmas.

I felt my girth. My balance was off and getting up from the chair took concentration. I wanted to go Christmas shopping by myself and splurge on Eleanor and Irene, but I should give them money. Our tastes were vastly different. I always included receipts with my gifts. I was certain they returned them. The thought counted, but they preferred to shop for themselves. This left Ben and his father: my male double trouble.

Who could help?

Mark.

I grabbed my cellphone and called him.

"Hi, Alexia."

"Any gift suggestions for the titans in my life?"

"Male or female? Muzzles, cages, or antiques?" he asked.

"Male and old stuff would be good."

"I'll be right there."

I met him in the lobby and rolled to the car. My feet should be replaced with wheels with a portable cart hitched to my butt. I could be transported like cargo. Sure felt like I weighed a ton.

We arrived at a small brick building and took the elevator to the second floor. A door on the far back of the hall stated 'Maxim Cryer Antiques.' Mark knocked and waited. The door opened a crack.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Cryer, I'm Mark Burns, and this is Alexia Cobb. We would like to see your clock collection."

"Come in," he said, opening the door wider.

A stooped man stood before us wearing thick glasses and an impeccable suit that looked like it was a classic made in the forties. At least ninety years old, he offered his arm to me.

"This is my life," he said as he swept the room with his extended hand.

The tiny office was packed with plates, clocks, knickknacks, linens, and pictures. Some reminded me of my grandmother's house. Mark steered me toward the clocks. Every shape and size, wall, desk, even a grandfather clock. A simple wooden desk clock with a key for winding caught my eye.

"Sir, how old is this one?" I asked.