Mummy Dearest, стр. 9

“To what?”

“To dinner and…whatever.”

“No. Sorry. No.”

He appeared even more disappointed. Was he having me on? I wasn’t totally sure. “Have you been with this guy a long time?”

“Two years.”

“And you’re exclusive?”

I nodded, and as I nodded I felt the strangest sense of something almost like…regret. It shocked me. What the hell was going on in my brain that I was even considering…and I wasn’t. I was not considering that. I didn’t even like Fraser Fortune.

At least…I hadn’t liked him at first. He did sort of grow on you after a while. Like the cosmopolitans. Or maybe because of the cosmopolitans. Either way…it wasn’t like that. Not in a way worth endangering what I had with Noah. Nothing was worth that.

“Just my luck,” Fraser said. He finished his Jack Daniels. “Oh well. Can I buy you dinner, anyway?”

“That’s very nice of you, but I…don’t think it would be a good idea.”

He brightened. “Really? Why?”

Good question. Why? Honesty compelled me. “I just…I think my boyfriend might not like it.” I could never quite think of Noah as my boyfriend, but lover sounded too…

“See, there is a connection. You feel it too.”

I frowned. “How do you work that out?”

“You think you’ll be tempted if we go out to dinner together.”

I said dampeningly, “Tempted to do what? Have dessert?”

Fraser looked straight into my eyes and said in a low, husky voice that actually made my body hair prickle, “Tempted to let me make love to you.”

I laughed, but my mouth was so dry all at once that it came out strangled. “Love.”

“Okay, beautiful, passionate, mind-blowing sex that feels so good you’ll be begging me to never stop.”

It was, quite simply, the silliest thing I’d heard in my life. And yet, just like that, my cock was stiffer than the top of a pyramid, hard and aching. I licked my lips. Looked at my drink and decided finishing it would be a very bad idea.

“Uh… Well, then it’s a good thing I’m saying no, right?” I stood up. It wasn’t easy—for a number of reasons.

Fraser stood up too, which made my need to get away and back to my own room all the more urgent. “At least let me buy you another drink.”

“Thanks. No. I’ve got an early flight tomorrow.”

Not that early, but I did need to get away from him before I did something really, incredibly, out-of-characterly stupid. The weird thing was, he couldn’t have been more different from my tall, handsome, sophisticated Noah who was, in every way, my dream man.

“Thank you for the drink,” I said. “And for earlier today at the museum.” I offered my hand.

He took it in his square, blunt-fingered one—and didn’t let go. He didn’t say anything either. All the more surprising since he had such a knack of saying the wrong thing—which would have helped at that moment.

“Night.” I gave my hand a little tug.

“Goodbye.” He reluctantly let go.

Goodbye. As I turned away, I realized that it was probably the last time I would ever see Fraser Fortune.

Chapter Four

I needed to talk to Noah. I punched the house number into my cell phone as soon as I stepped into the elevator.

No answer. Again no answer.

I began to get irritated. Where was he? Noah had said he was going to spend the evening at home. That had been part of his annoyance with my taking this weekend to go out of town: that instead of going to any of the parties we’d been invited to, he’d be stuck at home.

I hesitated and then I tried his cell phone. The odds of it being switched on were slim. Noah disliked using his cell for anything but emergencies. This wasn’t an emergency exactly, but I was a little worried about him. Things did happen. Even to men like Noah—a man most “things” would hesitate to fuck with.

To my astonishment, his cell rang. Once. Twice. He picked up the call and then there was the usual signature fumbling while Noah figured out how to hold his phone properly. While he juggled, I could hear background noise: music, clinking plates, and someone—not Noah—laughing.

“Noah here.” His voice filled my ear, loud and disconcertingly cheerful.

“Hi. It’s me.”

“Me who?”

Forget cheerful, Noah sounded ever so slightly sloshed.

This was weird. Neither Noah nor I drank much. Me, because I couldn’t handle my booze very well; Noah, because he didn’t like to relinquish control. Ever.

“Noah, it’s me. Drew.”

“Drew?” His voice sharpened. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. That is, I called the house and you didn’t answer. I wondered where you were.”

Just a fraction of a hesitation. “I decided to go out.”

“Oh. I— You didn’t mention you were going out earlier.” No reason Noah shouldn’t go out. No reason for that sinking in my gut, but the feeling was there all the same.

“I didn’t plan on it,” he returned, elaborately casual, “but as I was leaving my office I ran into Lionel and he invited me over for dinner.”

“Lionel?”

“Hold on.” I heard Noah say something to someone else—Lionel, evidently—and then more phone fumbling. I guessed he was in motion, walking to the next room. A few seconds later his voice came back on without any background noise. “Still there?”

“Of course.”

The good humor was still in effect, but it sounded a little forced now. “Lionel’s my oldest friend and a colleague. There’s no reason we shouldn’t have dinner together once in a while.”

“He’s your ex.”

Noah swore, but it was smothered. When he spoke again, I could hear the effort he was making to remain patient. “Yes, he’s my ex. You and I are together now, Drew, and you have got to get over this ridiculous insecurity about Lionel.”

“I don’t think it’s unreasonable to be a little…surprised to find you having dinner with Lionel when this morning you were telling me how disappointed you were to have to spend the evening at home.”

“And you rightly pointed out that there was no need for me to spend the evening at home.”

“And you pointed out that you felt weird going on your own to parties that we’d been invited to together.”

“I’m not at a party.”

“No, you’re with Lionel, which is worse. I didn’t have a problem with you going to a party.”

“Drew! This is ridiculous. You and I have dined with Lionel on several occasions.”

“Together.”

“You can’t honestly imagine that Lionel and I would…that I would be unfaithful to you.” He made a sound that was probably supposed to be a laugh, but it didn’t come off.

“Of course not. It’s not a matter of your being unfaithful. It’s a matter of loyalty.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” Now Noah sounded truly pissed off. “Loyalty? You’re questioning my loyalty?”

Heat flooded my face as though he stood with me in the slow-moving elevator. I persisted stubbornly, “You said that Lionel was one of the people suggesting that the only reason I was being considered for tenure was our relationship.”

“What the hell does that have to do with anything? He’s certainly not the only faculty member who’s noticed we live together. Naturally it will be commented on. Naturally some people will assume your relationship with me is behind your successful career.”

As little as I wanted to hear the answer, I made myself ask, “Is my relationship with you the reason I’m being considered for tenure?”

“Of course not!”

The fact that he sounded genuinely outraged at the idea eased some of the pain coiling through me, but not the worst of it. “But you’re not at all offended that your oldest friend has suggested that it is?”

“That’s just Lionel,” Noah said indifferently. “Christ knows he can be tactless.”

“He’s not the only one. Maybe you can take a casual attitude about the fact that he’s openly undermining my professional credibility, but I can’t, and the fact that you’re having dinner with him is…hurtful.”