Operation Gigolo. Vicki Thompson Lewis
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mess he was beginning to understand. He’d committed himself to love and cherish, in sickness and in health, through hairpieces and dangling eyelashes, but Michelle had been operating on a much shallower level. And she still was.
She took a deep breath. “I thought about all this during the cab ride over here. I think you and I should give it another try.”
“You spent the whole cab ride thinking about that?” He heard the sarcasm in his voice and decided that wouldn’t help matters. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”
“What was uncalled for?”
He gazed at her. She hadn’t caught the sarcasm. For her, a cab ride across Chicago was plenty of time to consider changing her life, and the lives of those around her. Like so many others who came through his law office, he’d invested his love in the wrong person. But it didn’t seem to be invested there anymore. Still, they’d shared a lot, and he wanted her to be as happy as she could be, considering the emotional handicaps she had to overcome.
“I don’t think getting back together is the answer,” he said gently.
“But I do, Tony.”
“Well, I don’t, and I’ll tell you why. One of the reasons you didn’t notice irritating little things about me was that I wasn’t here much. When I was, I was on my best behavior. Eventually, though, you’d find out that I whistle off-key and I’m a manic channel surfer.”
“Your whistling’s cute.”
“You haven’t heard much of it. I’ve been at the office, trying to forge this career. Ask Sam about my whistling.”
“Whistling wouldn’t bother me. And you hardly ever watch TV.”
“Ah, but one day I’ll have more time, and then I’d use that remote to drive you crazy.”
“Tony, none of that matters. What matters is—”
“What, Michelle? What matters?”
“That we love each other.” Her blue eyes grew dreamy.
He felt a nostalgic tug, remembering how he used to respond to that look of hers. “Ten months ago you told me you loved Jerry.”
“I was so wrong.”
“Then learn to love him.”
The dreamy look dissolved as she stared at him. “What?”
“I’m sure Jerry has lots of good qualities.”
“Name one.”
“Hey.” He chuckled. “Don’t ask me to do that. I’m willing to be charitable, but listing Jerry’s good qualities is a little much, even for a sap like me.”
“See, you don’t like him!”
“No, but you need to. You left our marriage for him, and you need to find things about him that you can cherish, things that make the holey underwear and the teeth-sucking seem like small change.”
“I thought you’d understand.” She flounced to her feet, looking petulant. “But you’re just making fun of me.”
He stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Actually, I’ve never been more serious in my life.”
“I don’t believe that. I think—” Her eyes narrowed.
“You’ve found someone, haven’t you?”
“No.” A picture of Lynn flashed through his mind. He’d bet he could run his fingers through her rich brown hair without being stabbed. But as of now Lynn was only a good friend and their current arrangement was just a charade to fool her parents. “No, there’s no one,” he said.
“Then why won’t you consider getting back together?”
He searched for the words that would make her understand without hurting her. “Look, I still care about you. I probably always will. But that deep, down-to-the-bone commitment I used to have, that feeling that I’d give my life for you—that’s gone, Michelle. I didn’t know that until you came over tonight, but I know it now.”
“We could get it back!”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Make up with Jerry. Work on what you have.” He smiled. “Buy him some sexy new underwear.”
“You are making fun of me.” She glared at him.
“Honest, I’m not.”
“You really don’t think we should start over?”
He shook his head.
“Then I might as well go home to Jerry.”
He followed her to the door and opened it. “That’s what I’m saying. He’s your best shot, not me.”
She started into the hall, then paused and glanced back at him. “Are you sure my eyelashes don’t look stupid?”
“They’re part of you, Michelle. Don’t change a thing.”
She smiled. “Thanks.” Then she frowned, as if trying to remember something. “Were you smoking when I first came in?”
It was just like her to be so wrapped up in herself that she hadn’t noticed until now. He thought about explaining and decided not to. “Yeah, I was.”
She shuddered. “Yuck. I would hate that.”
“See? We’re really not right for each other anymore.” Then, to get a laugh out of her, he sucked loudly on his teeth.
It worked. She laughed. “We had some good times, didn’t we, Tony?”
A whisper of what he used to feel for her passed over his heart and was gone. “Yes, we did. Take care of yourself, Michelle.”
“You, too.”
He watched her walk down the hallway and could find no regret remaining in his soul. It was a good way to begin tomorrow’s adventure.
LYNN LIVED at the opposite end of Chicago from Tony, so they hadn’t seen much percentage in sharing a cab to O’Hare. She’d agreed to meet him at the gate, and as she stood in the waiting area, fidgeting with the handle of her rolling carry-on, she took several calming breaths. Preperformance jitters, probably, similar to the ones she got before stepping into the courtroom.
Except this nervousness had a special edge to it. She’d come up with the idea in the heat of the crisis, and she still loved the plan, but she’d had time to consider the ramifications in the days since then. For example, she’d have to put on a convincing display of affection for Tony, which meant putting their arms around each other a lot, not to mention kissing and nuzzling in public whenever possible. The more sickening the display, the better. The only physical contact she’d had with Tony was limited to handshakes and the one time she’d hugged him after the divorce decree was handed down. Yet she couldn’t imagine how they’d practice such a thing, so they’d have to hope they looked natural doing something they’d never done with each other before.
And then there was the matter of sharing a cottage with one king-size bed in it. She hadn’t figured out how they’d handle the sleeping arrangements, and she’d been too chicken to bring up the subject when she’d discussed the plans with Tony. Maybe there was a couch. Or they could put a rolled blanket down the center of the bed, the way her mother used to divide up the space when her cousin Sherilee had come to spend the night. But Tony wasn’t exactly Sherilee.
No, he certainly wasn’t. She spotted him strolling down the terminal, an insolent smile on his face. His white T-shirt molded itself lovingly to his muscled chest, and the fit of his jeans was almost indecent. His hair hung rakishly over his forehead, and even his walk was different. Lynn swallowed. Dear Lord, what had she let herself in for? He wasn’t even Tony anymore.
When he reached her, he dropped