Читать книгу A Man for All Seasons - HEATHER MACALLISTER, Heather Macallister - Страница 10

“WHAT? WHY?” MARLIE asked.

Ty’s jaw hardened. “Because every time you come in here, you see it and think of your ex and what he did.”

And Marlie knew he was right.

“You don’t enjoy this bed. You hardly spend any time in here. Half the nights you fall asleep on the loveseat in your office.”

He knew? He would have had to come downstairs specifically to check on her. While she was sleeping. Her breath hitched. “I work late.”

“Because you’re avoiding the bed. You never would have chosen this bed for yourself and it will always remind you of a wedding that didn’t happen. Stop punishing yourself for something that wasn’t your fault and ditch the bed.”

“I can’t afford to.”

“Sell it,” Ty said, and Marlie knew he wasn’t going to let up until she agreed. “You know you could in about thirty seconds. Sell it to me. I’ll give you whatever it cost you. There. Done. Problem solved.” He looked pleased with himself.

Except… “It won’t fit in your room.”

“It’ll fit in my new house.”

“Which isn’t finished,” she reminded him.

“It’s getting there,” he said. “I meant to tell you, the city inspectors signed off on the new street plans and the council approved them this week. I drove by and crews are already replacing sewer pipes and widening the roads. The builder says once that’s finished, it’ll only be six weeks until I can move in.”

Sooner than she’d thought. But the road wasn’t finished yet. Besides, it was December and construction always slowed down in December. “So until then, your plan is to leave the bed here?”

Ty stared longingly at the screen behind Marlie. “I’ll put it in storage.”

That could work, but Marlie didn’t know if she was ready to handle the thought of Axelle and Ty having sex in her wedding present to Eric. “Actually, the carpenters have dibs if I sell it.”

“There’s no ‘if.’ You’re going to sell it.”

Ty was right. Somebody should have sex in her wedding present to Eric. “I’ll check to see if they’re still interested.”

“Do it.” Ty exhaled heavily. “But I wish you’d told me before I bonded with the bed. I had great things planned for this bed.”

“So did I.”

They sat in silence. Marlie thought about how long it had been since she’d had great things, and then she thought about Ty and his plans for the bed. He was probably great at things, and she already knew the bed was great, so naturally she wondered about great things with Ty in the bed, but Eric kept creeping into her thoughts. Marlie realized it would be impossible for her to have great things in this bed. Ever.

“I’m calling the carpenters tomorrow,” she said at the same time Ty said, “I can’t buy your bed.”

“I thought you wanted it,” she said.

He looked at her accusingly. “I know the story. That means every time I’m in this bed, I’ll think of you. It would be distracting at certain crucial times.”

“Sorry.” But she really wasn’t.

He exhaled. “If the carpenters want it, tell them to haul it off right away. As soon as the check clears, go bed shopping. You need a bed that’s you.” He ran his hand over the frame. “This was never you.”

How did he know that? “What kind of bed do you think is me?”

“Unbleached cotton, a thick comforter, squashy pillows,” he said immediately. “Beach colors. No patterns because you want to rest your eyes. Maybe a four poster, but nothing heavy. You need a bedside table with a soft light and a CD player where you can play New Age relaxation music.”

Marlie had expected him to say something like “blue” or “traditional.”

He was on a roll. “Get a good mattress that will support your back so it won’t get sore from sitting all day. No computer outlets. Maybe a TV across the room, but I’d say no. You need an electronic-free zone.”

“Okay,” Marlie said, dazzled with the details and amazed that he’d described her perfect bedroom before she even knew it was her perfect bedroom. Except for the New Age music.

He stood and looked around. “If you want to paint in here, I’ll help.”

“Okay,” she said again. He was being awfully nice. She tried not to be suspicious.

“It’s late.” He flexed his shoulders, drawing his shirt across his chest and she thought, his chest is nice, too. “Get some sleep.”

It will be a while, Marlie thought as she stood. “Thanks. And, again, I’m sorry about ruining your dinner.”

He looked down at her. “Want to make it up to me?”

“Yes,” she said before finding out what he had in mind.

“Get a Christmas tree.”

That was not what she hoped he had in mind. But he wouldn’t think that way about her. She wasn’t his type. And as soon as she tightened up her current date requirements to being beyond male and breathing, she’d remember he wasn’t her type, either.

“A tree is easy enough.” Marlie thought of the little pre-decorated table top trees. She could order one online.

“‘Easy’ means you’re thinking of some wimpy thing. I’m talking about a big tree for the front window.”

“Oh, come on.”

He headed for the door. “Those are my terms.” His terms? “Or what?”

He stopped at the doorway and grinned evilly. “Or I will call your mother and tell her I’m worried about you.” Marlie gasped.

“I’ll tell her all you do is work and the stress is getting to you.”

“Oh, that’s low, Ty.”

“And I’ll say that I suspect you’ve never gotten over your broken engagement and you’re depressed—which might be true.”

“It’s not true,” Marlie insisted.

“Convince me. Get a tree.”

“Okay! I’ll get a tree. Is pre-lit okay, or do you have rules about that, too?”

“Pre-lit?” Ty looked as though she’d suggested serving one of Santa’s reindeer for Christmas dinner. “You’re talking about an artificial tree?”

“Well, yeah.”

He stared at her.

“My house, my tree,” she said. “Do not call my mother.”

“Okay. I won’t call your mother. I’ll call my mother. All I have to say is that you’re not yourself and I’m concerned about what will happen when I’m not here to check on you.”

Marlie’s blood ran cold.

“And you know if your mom hears about it from my mom, it’ll be ten times worse.”

“It would be a thousand times worse.” Marlie had visions of her parents canceling their cruise and arriving on her doorstep. “You win. I’ll get a tree. A giant, needle-dropping, fire-hazard of a tree.”

Ty hadn’t said anything about ornaments.

THE NEXT DAY, MARLIE received flowers from Axelle. Before noon. Which meant Ty must have gone straight from blackmailing Marlie over the Christmas tree to discussing her with his girlfriend.

Good times.

Marlie held the heavy, square glass vase and searched her office for an empty flat surface. Eventually, she had to clear off the top of a file cabinet and set the exotically chic arrangement there, where she could see it while looking up the names of the flowers on Google. They were bright, beautiful and out of the ordinary. Like Axelle.

Not a carnation, rose or daisy in the bunch. Like Marlie. If she hadn’t gone to seed.

If anyone should have been sending flowers, it should have been Marlie, but now that Axelle had outclassed her, Marlie had no choice but to dig out her good stationery, ordered for her wedding thank-yous, and write a charming, lively note to Axelle.

Charming and lively did not come naturally to Marlie, so writing the note took some time. She was not helped by staring at her given name, Marlene, written across the top of the stationery. Her mother had insisted on it, just as she’d insisted that Marlene be on the wedding invitations. They’d never looked quite right to Marlie, as though it was someone else marrying Eric. And look how that turned out.

She had to access the U.S. Post Office website to find out what a first-class stamp cost these days, and then walk down to the mailbox cluster at the end of the block and drop it in the slot.

No wonder people emailed everything.

WHEN TYLER ARRIVED HOME that evening, the bed was leaving. He felt a pang, because it was a stupendous bed, but it came with baggage and Ty didn’t need baggage. To be honest, he was still a little freaked that he kept picturing Marlie when he thought of the bed. Adult Marlie was bad enough, but as he was mentally planning an evening with Axelle, the Marlie that had intruded was the eight-year-old Marlie. He couldn’t help it. Even now, when he thought of Marlie, her sweaty little red-cheeked face came to mind. It was the ponytail. Marlie may have changed, but the messy, bushy lump hadn’t. Ty just couldn’t have sex in a bed he associated with an eight-year-old.

Marlie had moved fast. Four men were dismantling the frame and carrying pieces downstairs to a pickup truck. Ty stepped aside as two of them passed him carrying the screen that had been at the foot of the bed.

He consoled himself with the thought that he would have replaced the projection system with a flat screen anyway. Newer technology.

Marlie was in her office—no surprise. Except that she seemed remarkably sanguine about getting rid of a bed she’d kept as a shrine to a failed romance.

Ty leaned against the doorway. Marlie wore headphones and didn’t see him at first. A bouquet of bright flowers partially obscured her from view. He waved a hand so the movement would attract her attention.

She saw him and removed the headphones as she raised her eyebrows. “What’s up?”

She looked the same as always, maybe faintly curious, since it wasn’t his habit to interrupt her when he came home. He seemed more affected by last night’s discussion than she was.

“The bed.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I guess the carpenters wanted it.”

“Yeah. They couldn’t get here fast enough. I don’t think they’ve decided who gets to take it home, though.”

“Did you go shopping for a new one?”

“I haven’t had time.” She indicated the arrangement of colorful exotic blooms that she’d set on a file cabinet. “Your girlfriend sent me flowers.”

Ty smiled. “She’s great like that.” Axelle’s impulsive generosity was one of the things that attracted him to her. It was also how she’d ended up in charge of the Midtown Business Mentors Charity Auction this Friday. And how he’d been corralled into helping. And how Marlie had ended up doing a website for them. It was difficult to say no to Axelle.

“I broke out my expensive wedding stationery and wrote her a thank-you note for the ‘day brightener.’” Marlie looked at him. “I wonder where she got the idea that I needed a ‘day brightener?’”

“You mind that I told her about your jerk of a fiancé?” he asked. “You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not ashamed, but it was almost three years ago,” Marlie said. “I’m more embarrassed about walking in on you last night and seeing Axelle half-naked.”

“You said your eyes were closed.”

“They were. After I saw you both.”

Ty drew a long breath. “I should have sent her flowers.”

“You’re in luck,” Marlie said. “As it happens, I’ve got some right here.”

“I’m not going to take your flowers.”

“Why not? I feel I owe her.”

“She’d rather have you do a little extra on the auction website.”

“It would be cheaper to send her flowers.” Marlie nodded toward the computer screen. “They’ve had twice as many donations as Axelle anticipated. Each one means I have to put up a picture and a description and a link to the company or person who donated it,” she told him. “I’m setting the whole thing up so I can stream the auction and take online bids Friday night. It’s taking a little more time than I’d estimated.”

Ty came over to look at the screen. “It’s for a good ca—what the heck is that?”

“That,” Marlie said, “is why I don’t mind the extra time.”

A shirtless man wearing suspenders and a fireman’s hat grinned at him from the monitor. “What’s he donating?”

“A date,” Marlie answered.

“Did he have to look like he was posing for a calendar?”

“Actually, he did. You’re looking at Mr. May.” She smiled. “And I’m sure the lucky winner hopes he will.”

Ty raised his eyebrows.

Marlie typed a caption to the picture and then read it aloud. “Oh, yeah. I’d like to see the partridge in his pear tree.”

“Uh, Marlie?”

“Hmm?” The picture on the screen changed and another man appeared. This one was wearing more clothes, but his smile promised he wouldn’t be wearing them long. Ty had a passing acquaintance with that smile and a guy shouldn’t ever be photographed smiling that smile.

“And you can coo in my ear anytime.” Marlie typed “Two Turtle Doves.”

“What are you doing?”

“This is the 12 Men of Christmas Dating Extravaganza.”

“Is it legal?”

Marlie laughed. “Axelle found twelve men to agree to take the winners or winner on a date inspired by verses from ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’ song.” She typed as she spoke.

“Axelle didn’t ask me,” Ty said, wondering how Axelle knew the men.

“Axelle doesn’t want to share you,” Marlie told him.

“Or she doesn’t think anyone would pay to go out with me.”

“More likely, she’s afraid you’ll embarrass the other guys by starting a bidding war.”

Ty liked the sound of that. It could happen. He envisioned hordes of women emptying their bank accounts and shouting bids faster than the auctioneer could keep up.

And then he noticed Marlie looking at him with her all-seeing gaze. He gestured with his chin toward the computer screen. “How high does Axelle think women will bid to go out with these men?”

“I have no idea,” Marlie told him. “But there’s a minimum bid of six hundred dollars.”

“Fifty bucks a date? What a deal. You can barely go to the movies and get popcorn, drinks and a pack of Junior Mints for fifty bucks.”

“I don’t fix the starting bids. I just put up the auction items. But I think the low minimum is because this is offered as an all or nothing package,” Marlie explained. “Axelle said some of the guys were afraid no one would bid on them. This was the only way they’d agree to participate. She’s encouraging women to form buying cartels and split up the guys among them.”

He nodded. “In case anyone is too shy to bid by herself. Good idea. So show me the men’s package.”

Marlie slowly turned her head and looked up at him.

“I meant,” Ty said, feeling irritated, “are there women for sale?”

“You meant that, did you?”

“Is there a women’s version of the dating dozen?” he asked heavily as Marlie continued typing, visibly fighting a grin.

“No—ooolala, Mr. Three French Hens. I wonder if French is his specialty.”

Ty looked at the screen. “That’s Axelle’s brother!”

“So that’s Paul.” Marlie propped her chin on her elbow as she zoomed in. “Mmm.” She traced his lips with the cursor and then zoomed in even more until just his mouth and square chin with the cleft filled the screen.

How did he shave that thing, anyway? Ty wondered. Judging by the dreamy expression on Marlie’s face, that was not what she was wondering. Sighing, she zoomed out. “I’m glad Axelle has no problem sharing him.”

Ty looked at her in concern. Now that he’d helped her get over Eric, she wasn’t going to go wild, was she? The idea was to find an area between nun and nymphomaniac.

The next photo popped up. “Four calling birds. Call me anytime.” Her voice dropped to a sexy purr.

“You do know it’s actually ‘colly’ birds.” Ty sounded uptight and condescending. He always sounded uptight and condescending when he was losing control of a situation. There is nothing here to control, he told himself.

“Why, Tyler.” Marlie looked up at him and mercifully away from the lumberjack Jo in his unbuttoned flannel shirt. “I do know that, but I’m amazed that you do.”

“I took chorus for my Fine Arts credit in college,” he said, condescendingly. Stop that.

Mr. Five Gold Rings appeared. “A gymnast?” The photo had been taken during a competition. The man’s arm muscles bulged as he suspended himself by the ring apparatus.

“Look at that form,” Marlie said with admiration. “And gymnasts are so flexible.”

Ty waited. “Aren’t you going to say ‘he can run rings around me’ or something like that?”

“I was thinking that if he’s that good with two rings, he’ll be spectacular with five. That’s golden.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Mmm.” Marlie smiled a little smile as she typed.

Ty felt out of his depth, a totally foreign feeling. Depth like this was supposed to be his specialty.

“This next guy is all about laying.”

Of course he was.

Marlie clicked the mouse to bring up the next photo. Sure enough, there was a guy holding a goose. Shirtless. The man, not the goose. Though technically, the goose was already shirtless. “Axelle found these guys?” Ty’s voice was pitched higher than normal.

“Yes. Isn’t it great?”

Ty deliberately relaxed his throat. “Couldn’t she have found anyone with a hobby requiring clothes?”

“You mean like a sports uniform?”

“Yes.” Ty thought about baseball. “Exactly.”

Marlie brought up the next picture. “Behold. Seven Swans a Swimming.” She glanced up with mock innocence. “Check out the uniforms.”

Speedos. Speedos worn by men with no body fat. Or modesty. “The entire swim team?”

“No,” Marlie said, her voice regretful. “Just him.” She cropped the other men out and enlarged the remaining swimmer, not that he needed enlarging, a point amply made by the skin-tight suit. “But he’s enough, don’t you think?”

“Yes. Plenty.” Which one of them had been afraid no one would bid on him? Sheesh. Ty didn’t lack for self-confidence, but these guys were enough to make him add another mile to his morning run.

“And he’s a breast stroke champion. I should put that in the caption.”

“Marlie.” Tyler began to sweat. He’d never seen this side of her. He didn’t know she had this side. She should keep this side to herself. He didn’t want to be responsible.

He wasn’t responsible, was he?

“What?”

Eight maids a milking was up next and Ty could only imagine. “How is it possible for you to make ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’ sound smutty?”

“Smutty?” Marlie looked the picture of offended virtue. “Tyler, these men are donating their time in an effort to raise money for a program that provides a positive activity for underprivileged youth when they’re most vulnerable to bad influences. What exactly do you find smutty about that?”

“I—”

“Furthermore, I’ve been posting all these auction items and I’ve yet to see what you’ve donated. Don’t you support the business mentors program?”

“I donated you,” he said.

Marlie blinked. “Excuse me?”

He gestured to the screen. “I suggested you for the website, since you do Axelle’s restaurant already.”

Marlie’s eyes narrowed. “You mean I do the work and you get the credit?”

How did he end up the bad guy, here? “I’m covering the expenses for the site and your fee after the discount.”

“Oh.” She looked back to the screen. “I’d like to tell you to forget about my fee, but I need the money.”

“No problem. You’ve put in a lot of hours and it wasn’t really your cause to begin with.” Or his, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t worthwhile. “You should find a cause. Volunteering would be a good way for you to interact with people.” And by people, he meant men. And by interact, he meant talking in a controlled setting that was not a bar.

“I’m volunteering right now.” Marlie had flipped into her photo editing program and was removing background clutter from the crop of the swimmer. “And I am so interacting.” She zoomed in on his head and removed the red rings his goggles had left around his eyes. “There. Not that anyone is going to be looking at his face.”

Ty hadn’t known Marlie was so visual. “I meant interacting in person.”

“I’m all for that.” She sighed at the picture.

“Then volunteer for something other than computer work,” Ty said. “Something that gets you out of the house.” He got an idea. “In fact, why don’t you come with Axelle and me to the auction on Friday? You’ll get a chance to see everything first hand.” And maybe Axelle could set her up with someone. Axelle knew everyone. Yeah, they could introduce Marlie to as many men as possible. One of them was bound to ask her out. Brilliant. Tyler Burton, you are brilliant.

Marlie’s ponytail brushed against his arm and he looked down. She had an appealing casual vibe, but maybe Axelle could give her some tips about her hair before Friday. Figure out a way to contain it. Maybe lend her some lip gloss.

“I can’t go,” Marlie said. “We’re streaming the auction live, remember? I have to monitor it from here.”

Too bad. He’d practically had her married off.

“I’ll get to see everything Friday afternoon when Randy and I set up the webcams.”

“Randy?”

“Computer geek.” Marlie clicked through to Nine Lords a Leaping.

A guy in a black Dominion of Zartha T-shirt posed against a stone wall, crossed arms displaying biceps not normally associated with computer geeks. At least he was clothed.

“He’ll have a laptop down front at the auction. Our computers will be networked so I can control the webcams from here and Randy will be able to relay the online bids to the auctioneer.”

“Axelle,” Ty supplied.

“She decided to do it herself?” Marlie made a sound. “I thought she was going to ask someone else.” Her eyes met his.

“Me?”

Marlie shrugged. “She wasn’t specific.”

Axelle had never come out and asked him. Had she expected Ty to offer to be the auctioneer? “I’ve never done anything like that before. This is a big deal. She should have gotten someone with experience.”

“Whatever.”

Did Axelle feel that he’d let her down? It was hard to figure out what she was thinking or wanted from him.

Marlie turned back to the computer. “By the way, she’s coming here to change clothes before the auction. It’ll save you a trip to pick her up.”

“Sounds good.” At least Axelle would be able to introduce Marlie around during the afternoon before people got dressed up. A casual setting was more Marlie’s style, anyway.

There was a knock on the door jamb and one of the carpenters stuck his head in. “We’ve got it all, Marlie. We patched the holes where the brackets held the frame to the wall. I’d give it a day to dry before you paint over it.”

“Okay.”

“And thanks again!”

She gave a distracted wave and he let himself out.