Strange Bedpersons. Jennifer Crusie
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fine. Whatever makes you happy.” Nick folded the last of her clothes into the suitcase and closed it. “Now, we’re ready.”
“If you say so.” Tess shook her head. “But the duffel would have been a lot easier.”
“Not on my eyes.” Nick picked up the suitcase. “Not to mention my dignity.”
Tess’s smile widened. “You have no dignity.”
“Not around you.” Nick grinned back at her, suddenly warmed by how alive she was just standing in front of him and suddenly damn glad to be with her. “This is why we should be together. You can save me from getting too stuffy.”
“Fine for you,” Tess folded her arms and looked at him with mock skepticism. “Who’s going to save me?”
“I am,” Nick said. “Hell, woman, can’t you recognize a hero when you’ve got one in your living room?”
“This would be you?” Tess lifted an eyebrow.
“This would be me. Picture me in armor. Better yet picture me out of armor making love to you.”
Tess blinked at him, and Nick’s smile grew evil.
“No,” Tess said. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Nick shook his head. “Good thing for you I’m a patient man.”
“That’s not necessarily good for me.”
“Okay, be that way. Could we get going here? I’d like to have at least a couple of hubcaps left for the ride home. Why are you still living in this dump, anyway? The crime rate around here must be out of control.”
“It is not.” Tess suddenly looked guilty enough to make Nick wonder if the crime rate really was bad enough to worry her. “And besides,” she plunged on, “if you didn’t bring an overpriced car into a deprived neighborhood, you wouldn’t have to worry about some kid heisting your hubcaps to even out the economic imbalance. So there.”
Nick felt his familiar Tess-annoyance rise again. “So you’re saying that some delinquent is justified in stealing my hubcaps because he doesn’t have as much money as I do?” Nick shifted the suitcase to his right hand to keep from strangling her. “Situational ethics, right?”
“I’m only saying—” Tess began, and then Nick remembered the weekend and held up his hand.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “We have to get through two days together. You look terrific, I look terrific, we like each other a lot when we’re not arguing, and we have a strong sexual attraction that I, for one, think we should act on, so why don’t we just agree not to mention politics until, oh, say, midnight on Sunday?”
“What sexual attraction? I don’t feel any sexual attraction.” Tess looked away from him. “And I didn’t say you looked terrific.”
“Well, I do, don’t I?”
TESS LOOKED BACK at him reluctantly, already knowing she was lost. He was beautiful, neatly pressed into a suit that evidently had no seams at all, every strand of his dark hair immaculately in place. Only his face betrayed any sign of human weakness, mainly because he was grinning at her. It was that grin that got her every time. The suit and the haircut belonged to Nick the lawyer, the yuppie materialist. Him, she could resist, no problem. But the grin belonged to Nick the guy who watched old movies with her and handed her tissues when she cried. It belonged to Nick the guy who did the worst Bogart imitation in the world and who knew it and did it anyway. It belonged to Nick the guy who’d gotten one of her students out of trouble with the police when he’d been caught vandalizing the school, and who’d then put the fear of God into the kid so he’d never pick up another can of spray paint again.
The grin kept telling her that the real Nick was trapped inside the designer-suited, I’m-making-partner-before-forty Nick. Maybe that was why she kept fantasizing, against her will, about getting that designer suit off him.
She surrendered and moved toward the door. “All right, you’re terrific. I’m sorry I’m being bitchy. I’m nervous about this weekend. I don’t want to let you down.”
“You won’t,” Nick said.
Tess shook her head. “I’m not good at lying. Or at being submissive. And I think Norbert Welch is an obnoxious cynic who relieves his insecurities by deliberately annoying everyone with his smug novels. I probably shouldn’t mention that this weekend, though.”
“Probably not,” Nick said. “But you probably will, anyway.” He sounded resigned, but not glum. In fact, he seemed pretty buoyant.
“You’re really optimistic about this, aren’t you?” Tess said, smiling because he seemed so genuinely happy. “You really think this is going to work.”
“I’m just glad to be with you again. I missed you.”
Tess stopped smiling. “Oh.”
“I know.” Nick leaned against the wall, the suitcase dangling from one hand. “Don’t say it. You’ve been doing perfectly well without me.”
“No, I’ve missed you, too,” Tess admitted. “I hate it, but I have.”
“I know you have,” Nick said. “I am amazed you admit it, though.”
“I’m trying to remember whether it was your confidence or your politics that annoyed me more,” Tess said.
“Forget that,” Nick said. “Concentrate on what drew you to me.”
Tess picked up the hanger that held her plastic-wrapped dress and walked past him to the door. “That would be your companionship, which gave me the ability to do my laundry in the basement without being mugged.”
“Resist all you want,” Nick said, following her out. “It’s not going to do you any good. You’re with the best, babe.”
He grinned when she snorted in mock disgust and locked the door behind them.
Four
The ride to Kentucky in the late September afternoon was lovely, and Tess let her mind wander, lulled by the warm sunlight that was slowly changing to cool dusk outside her window. Nick’s car, a black BMW, was too expensive and too ostentatious, but it rode like a dream, and she snuggled deeper into the seat, loving the comfort of the butter-soft leather.
“I love this car,” she said finally.
Nick looked at her in surprise. “Really? This grossly expensive symbol of conspicuous consumption? I don’t believe it.”
“Well, it is that. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t sweet.” She turned her head to look at him. “I like being with you, too, you know. When you’re like this. I could ride this way forever.”
“I knew you’d be putty in my hands,” Nick said. “Play your cards right, sweetheart, and I’ll give you a ride home, too.”
“You do the worst Bogart in the world.”
“Yeah, but I’m getting better.”
“Yeah, but it’s still the worst.”
Nick grinned over at her, and Tess felt her heart lurch a little. Stop that, she told herself.
“This idea you have of working at Decker is great,” Nick said, as he swung onto the bridge at the Ohio River. “It would be a good career move for you.”
“It’s not a career move,” Tess said, craning her neck like a little kid to look out at the water. “I just need to support myself so I can work at the Foundation.”
“You know, I don’t understand that,” Nick said. “Teaching is teaching. The only difference between the Foundation and Decker is that at Decker you’ll get paid a decent salary and—here’s a bonus—you won’t get mugged.”
“No,”