Unnatural Relations (Lust and Lies Series, Book 1) (12 page)

"Could we go inside?" he said impatiently. "It's rather warm out here."

Russ led the way into the apartment, then set Barbara down on the bed with a kiss on the forehead and a look that warned her to stay put.

Decker eyed the unmade bed and the clothes strewn about the room, and loudly cleared his throat. "If we could get to the business at hand, the two of you could get on with your, uh, performance."

His obvious insinuation brought a blush to Barbara's cheeks, but denying what he assumed was going on required an explanation that she wasn't prepared to give. "I've decided to sign the agreement, after I receive bills of sale for the gifts."

"I assumed that would be your decision and prepared this in advance." He pulled a sheaf of papers out of his briefcase. "Howard provided us with an inventory of the items concerned, and I have managed to obtain receipts for everything except those things purchased from street vendors. I believe you'll find it in order."

Barbara's hand trembled as she took the papers from him and read over the typed words. It was so cold, an unemotional list of
things.
How could Howard have done this? Each of his presents had held a special meaning to her. They continued to bring back warm memories that his abandonment had failed to chill. Yet, no one but Howard could have compiled this list. Only one thing was missing—the set of cartoons. Then again, he probably never put any value on them to begin with.

Up until that moment, she had accepted the fact that Howard had been manipulated into leaving her, but she had kept herself sane by believing that, wherever he was, he still loved her. As she reviewed the inventory, her last spark of hope burned out. "Russ, will you get me the agreement, please?"

Seconds later, she had signed, Russ had witnessed, and Decker departed before she could change her mind.

During the course of her month of confinement, she slowly began to feel a little better, and as the nausea and cramping decreased, her boredom increased. Russ took on the additional responsibility of personally keeping her entertained when he was home, which was most of the time, and provided her with a variety of paperback books to read when he had to go out. He was so constant in his attentions to her that she occasionally suggested that he not hurry back. Though she truly appreciated his help, there were times when she thought she'd scream if she didn't soon get a day all to herself.

With her consent, he had taken a few pieces of jewelry back to Tiffany's and received sufficient cash to reimburse himself, pay off the doctor, set aside money for the hospital bill, and cover their living expenses for the next few months. For the moment, she gave up the idea of independence, but as soon as she was on her feet, she intended to sell the engagement ring and give Russ enough money to set out on his own.

Though she was aware that he was hoping for something more personal, she was certain he would start looking at other women again when her pregnancy mutated her into a blimp.

At first an acquaintance from the restaurant or theater would call to say hello, but that stopped very quickly. She supposed their lives were too busy to give much time to her, and she didn't want to impose. Other than Russ, her parents were the only contacts she had outside of the apartment. She made a point of keeping those conversations brief and vague, rather than tell a lot of lies she'd have to apologize for later.

She had told her parents about Howard's entrance and exit and they were concerned about her suffering from a broken heart, until she had Russ say hello to them one day and implied that she had a new man in her life. She kept promising to come home soon.

Toward the end of her stay in bed, an unexpected call broke their routine.

As he usually did, Russ answered the phone. "May I ask who's calling?" Placing his hand over the mouthpiece, he whispered to Barbara. "Some guy wants to talk to you. Says he's
Mister
Teasdale."

Barbara brightened instantly. She couldn't have been more surprised or delighted. She held out her hand for Russ to give her the phone, but he held on to it.

"Who is he?" he asked in a low voice.

She didn't care for the suspicious look on his face, or the fact that he was keeping the phone out of her reach, but she figured it would be faster to simply answer his question. "That's Dusty. The boy I grew up with. I told you about him." He reluctantly handed her the phone, then sat down in the chair across from her.

"Hi, sweetie! I've been thinking of calling you for weeks, but I was afraid you were up to your ears in finals."

"All finished. I'm home now." He paused for an audible breath. "It sure is good to hear your voice, Barbie. The truth is, I'm calling because your mom told me what's been going on in your life. She said you probably weren't coming home to visit for a while."

She'd forgotten all about her promise to spend time with Dusty while he was on vacation. "I'm sorry. I was really looking forward to seeing you but it's just impossible right now. See, there's this, um, audition coming up that I have a really good shot at. It could be the break I've been waiting for. I'd have you come here but between that and work and school..."

"Sure, I understand. Maybe later this summer something will open up. I guess that means your two-year plan has been amended."

She made herself laugh as if it were no big deal. "Hey, even the Constitution has amendments. So tell me, did you ace all your finals or what?"

While Dusty filled her in, she had to work at ignoring Russ. He just sat there, scowling at her as if she'd committed some terrible offense. The instant she said good-bye, Russ grabbed the phone from her and slammed it into its cradle.

"What is your problem?" she asked incredulously.

"My
problem?" he shouted. His hands balled into fists as he loomed over her. "The only problem I've got here is
you."
He turned and marched over to the kitchenette. One after another he opened and slammed cupboard doors.

"What are you looking for?"

"Something to drink. There's not one goddamned thing a man can drink in this fucking place."

"Russ, I've asked you not to use that language—"

"Fuck you, Miss Bitch. I'll use any goddamned language I want to." His glare challenged her to reprimand him again. "I'm going out."

She flinched as the front door slammed behind him. Russ had shown her small glimpses of his bad temper before. This time, however, he had seemed truly enraged yet she hadn't the slightest idea what had set him off.

He had been relaxed and pleasant during dinner. The abrupt mood swing seemed to hit him while she was talking to Dusty. Had she said something that upset him? She replayed her end of the conversation in her mind and was positive she hadn't mentioned Russ at all.

Was that it? Could he be angry because she didn't tell Dusty about him? That line of thinking took her straight to the only possible answer. Russ was jealous.

Though she'd been careful not to lead him on, she knew he was still hoping she'd have a change of heart. Perhaps he really was in love with her and doing his best to hide it.

There were times when she wished she could fall in love with him. It would certainly solve all her problems. But that deep, intense feeling was absent and she wasn't certain she even wanted to feel that way again. She never wanted to give another man the kind of power over her that she had so freely given to Howard. It wasn't worth the pain.

Recalling what had happened the last time he'd yelled at her and stormed out, she wanted to stay awake until he was back and calmed down. But after three hours crept by and he hadn't returned, she switched off the light.

She had barely drifted off when she heard a key being turned in the lock. The night-light in the bathroom allowed her to see Russ's clumsy entrance without his knowing she was awake. She could also see him take a long swallow out of a bottle before he placed it on the table. As he headed toward the bathroom, he bumped into the end table and almost knocked over the lamp.

Catching it, he whispered. "Sh-sh-sh. You'll wake Sleeping Beauty."

He was obviously too drunk for her to question his temper tantrum tonight. While he was in the bathroom, she turned on her side, facing the wall, and determined to feign sleep and avoid dealing with him entirely.

A few minutes later she heard him open the door. Even without the stench of cigarette smoke and whiskey, he was breathing heavily enough for her to know when he was standing next to her, and she prayed he would just pull out his bed and go right to sleep. As seconds ticked by and he didn't move, she wondered what he was doing, but if she turned to see, he might realize she was awake.

Because she was already tense, she managed not to react when he stroked her back. But when his hand covered her breast and kneaded it, she gave a sleepy groan and turned onto her stomach.

"Tha's right," he mumbled. "Look, but don't touch. But ol' Howie touched you, didn't he,
sweetie
? Girls always wanted Howie. You know what the funny part is? He didn't want any of that free pussy, so guess who he'd pass 'em on to?" He hiccoughed and laughed aloud. "Poor little Russ, the gardener's boy, finally got one Howie
did
want and couldn't keep. So what if I can't fuck her? I got her. An' there's always my friend Mary. Hello, Mary. Say hi to Peter."

Barbara had heard of people who hallucinated when they drank too much and assumed that's what was happening to Russ. She realized her mistake moments later as she heard his breathing become more labored along with another sound that had a steady, recognizable rhythm.

Not seeing him didn't make it all right. She wanted to cover her ears to shut out what he was doing, but then he'd know she was awake. She couldn't help but wonder how many other times he'd watched her and done this while she slept. Suddenly the beat quickened, he groaned, and something wet hit her bare arm. Russ let out a relieved sigh and laughed again.

She heard him pull out his bed and collapse onto it, but she waited several long minutes more, until he began snoring, before she wiped his leavings from her arm. She was both embarrassed and repulsed by his act, but it was his words that started her stomach churning. Was he infatuated with her only because Howard had wanted to marry her? It seemed unlikely that any man would turn himself into a nursemaid for a woman for such a flimsy reason. Surely he would have to have deep, personal feelings for her. His jealousy seemed to confirm those feelings.

And yet, there was something about the way he had spoken of her—as though she was his possession—that made her terribly uncomfortable.

The next day, Russ was nursing himself for a change and she understood well enough to leave him alone. The day after that was her doctor's appointment and he was being so solicitous, she thought it would have been horrid of her to start picking at him over something that was already two days old. As to what happened after he'd come home... well, he was drunk, and it was best forgotten.

Dr. Roselli gave Barbara permission to be a little more active, but warned her she wasn't completely in the clear. She should continue to get plenty of rest. Working at a job where she stood on her feet, strenuous physical activity and intercourse were still out.

Exactly as Dr. Roselli had predicted, after Barbara passed the twelfth week of her pregnancy, she regained her strength and high energy level. Her weight was finally on target and the fog that had clouded her brain for the last three months miraculously lifted.

Although Russ hadn't displayed any more temper tantrums or tried to push their relationship beyond companionship, Barbara knew the time had come for them to go their separate ways. She was guilty of taking advantage of his attraction to her. He was guilty of taking advantage of her physical weakness. In reality they were doing each other more harm than good.

There were no alternatives. She had to sell the ring and get it over with. Russ had told her how simple it had been to return the smaller pieces to Tiffany's. Of course, the Hamilton name on the receipt helped a lot.

Rather than give him warning of what was coming, she waited for him to leave for the florist shop before taking her first steps toward independence. Her confidence was shaken, however, when she opened her jewelry box and discovered that the diamond was the only valuable piece inside. She had thought there were a number of items left, such as the gold earrings. Had Russ returned those and she'd forgotten?

She pulled out the envelope where she'd left all the receipts from Decker. The agreement and inventory list were there as well as the television and clothing receipts, but the only Tiffany's receipt left was for the ring. Her brain had been fuzzy for so long, she supposed she could have forgotten, yet she clearly recalled when Russ had taken other pieces.

After Russ returned that jewelry, he'd deposited the money in her checking account for her and put the deposit slips in her accounting box with her other financial records. He had teased her about being such an old-fashioned girl about her bookkeeping but it wasn't like she did anything complex with her money. Besides, she had never had enough money to splurge on a computer. Her simple paper system was all she needed to keep track of her finances. However, after going through every piece of paper in the box, she hadn't found evidence of any recent deposit.

To make things easier on her, he had been writing out the checks for the various bills. All she had to do was sign her name a few times and her financial responsibilities had been taken care of.