Читать книгу Hung Up on You - Holly Jacobs - Страница 10

“SO, I GUESS we should just do it,” Collin Walters said without a hint of enthusiasm.

“Pardon?” Adrienne Kelly asked her long-time fiancé.

Collin looked rather pale today. And pale for Collin’s blond-haired, fair-skinned complexion was just about as white as a sheet.

The only plus to this particular shade of ghost-white was that it made his eyes look very blue, rather than their normal washed-out sort of grayish-blue.

Maybe Ari was just being exceptionally dense today, but she didn’t have a clue what Collin was talking about.

They were sitting on a bench in a quiet corner of Penn’s Campus. It would have been more convenient to sit right outside Penn Hospital, but the view would have consisted of Philadelphia traffic. The green space in the center of the campus was much prettier to look at and worth the short walk.

They often shared lunches here, but Collin had never just blurted out doing it statements before.

Now, if it were any other man, she might think he was talking about sex.

Hey, babe, let’s just do it.

She felt a bit hot and tingly at the thought.

Not that Ari was the type of person who would want to do it in a public place. But it might be nice to have someone want her bad enough to want to do it in a public place.

But Collin would never suggest doing it on a park bench. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t overly prone to doing it at all.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t. But his sex drive rode a few notches below her own.

Not that she was a nympho.

But Ari liked sex.

Hot, wild, abandoned sex. Fast and hard. Slow and soft. She just liked it.

Collin blamed his less than lustful sex drive on his stress-filled career as a surgeon. Ari sometimes worried that maybe it was something more. Maybe they just didn’t click.

No, of course she clicked with Collin. They were perfect for each other. He just worked too hard.

Collin interrupted her wild musing and repeated, “A date.”

She must have still looked puzzled, because he said, with exasperation tingeing his voice, “Don’t play coy with me, Adrienne.”

Coy?

That was the description of someone who promised sex, but didn’t follow through.

Coy didn’t describe Ari at all. She’d follow through in a New York minute…a Philadelphia minute, to be more exact. She’d gotten herself quite worked up thinking about hot sex in a public place.

Of course, unless Collin had become psychic or suddenly much more perceptive than he normally was, he didn’t know that she’d been thinking about doing it right here, right now, so what was he talking about?

“Coy?” she repeated, knowing she sounded as confused as she felt.

“You’ve been nagging about setting a wedding date since the day we got engaged.”

Ah, wedding dates.

No nooky on a park bench.

A wedding date.

That’s what this was all about. Just then his statement fully hit her.

“Nagging?” She was sure that even Collin couldn’t miss what was her annoyance this time.

He raked his fingers through his blond-to-the-point-of-being-white hair. With a normal, mortal being, this would result in someone’s hairstyle un-styling.

But not Collin’s.

He was the kind of man whose perfection couldn’t be messed with.

Ari assured herself that she liked that quality about him. It’s just that sometimes—like at this particular moment—she forgot she liked it.

“Adrienne, why are you being difficult? This is what you wanted. We’re going to choose a date and move ahead with our plans.”

“Why now?”

“It’s a perfect time.”

Perfect.

Perfect like everything else about Collin.

He came from the perfect, nondysfunctional, upper-class family.

He’d been a perfect trouble-free teen, gone to his father’s ivy league alma mater and followed in his father’s footsteps and become a surgeon.

He’d even joined his father’s practice. He was the perfect son, his parents reminded her…frequently.

She’d noted they’d never referred to her as the perfect potential daughter-in-law.

She realized that Collin was reciting all the reasons that now was the time to set a wedding date. “…you’ve not only finished your thesis, but you’ve had it published. You’ll be starting a great new job. And my career is quite solid now. We’ll plan a small Friday night ceremony and a weekend getaway, so we won’t interfere with your work schedule.”

“I’m sure they’d give me time off for a honeymoon.”

A tropical beach honeymoon.

Just her and Collin. With no outside demands. Totally alone and stress-free.

Lolling around in the sun. Having sex.

Going out to eat. Having sex.

Sleeping late. Having sex.

What was up with her today? She had sex on the brain. Maybe because she hadn’t had sex on anything else for quite a while.

A very long while.

Just when was the last time she and Collin had done it? She couldn’t remember.

“A nice, long, stress-free honeymoon,” she added with what she hoped was a suggestive lilt to her voice.

Maybe if she could get him away from the hospital long enough, Collin would rediscover his sex drive.

Maybe rather than neutral, it would kick into overdrive.

They’d really click then.

She bet they had park benches on tropical beaches. She felt a bit more overheated at the thought.

He shook his head. “Taking time off for a long honeymoon wouldn’t be responsible. You’ve just taken the position at the institute. You don’t have any vacation time built up. You can’t just take days off whenever it suits you.”

Ari sighed.

Collin had a point.

Collin always had a point. And his point was perfectly correct, but no surprise there, either, because Collin was always correct.

Sometimes living with perfection was…taxing.

“So when were you thinking about setting the date?” she asked.

She thought, but didn’t add, because you’ve obviously already worked this all out already.

She should appreciate his thoughtfulness, his attention to detail, she chided herself.

“How about three months from now? Since we’re not planning anything big and elaborate, that should allow a sufficient amount of time to pull it all together.”

“But I want big and elaborate. A huge wedding and reception with all our friends and family there. Music. The bouquet and the garter. Dancing. You and me—”

“Ari, we’ve talked about this. It doesn’t make sense. I’m an only child of two only children. You’ve got one unmarried brother. And your extended family consists of your grandmother. We don’t have big families.”

“Friends. We’ve got lots of friends.”

“Colleagues. We both have many colleagues.”

Collin had colleagues. As a matter of fact, Ari couldn’t think of one person that she would really call his friend. Maybe that’s why he wanted to keep the wedding small, to keep from thinking about his friendless state.

Poor, proud baby.

He’d been so busy with school and then starting a demanding career, that he hadn’t had time to build deep meaningful relationships…except with her.

She reached out and patted his hand affectionately. “Yes, a small wedding would be best.”

He smiled, obviously relieved.

“A small wedding in three months,” she murmured. “Bethany should be back from her trip by then. It wouldn’t do to have my maid of honor overseas.”

Bethany was adventurous. She was always doing something wild and crazy. This time she was backpacking through Asia and from all reports having the time of her life. She’d be back by August for the wedding.

August?

Ari sighed. August in Philadelphia got hot. Very hot and humid. Not exactly the perfect wedding weather.

Ari had always dreamed of a traditional June wedding. Early June, so the weather was warm, but not oppressive. Her family and friends celebrating with her. A huge party.

Rather than voice her doubts about the wisdom of a wedding in August, she simply said, “That’s fine.”

“I knew you’d agree. I’ll leave you to the details. I’m sure Mother will help.”

“I’m sure she will.” Ari knew there was more than a hint of sarcasm in her voice, but Collin didn’t seem to notice.

Just like his mother would fail to notice anything she said. Anything she wanted.

Collin’s mother wouldn’t just help. She’d take over. She was the chair of so many organizations and groups that she practically ran anything remotely philanthropic in the city.

The woman didn’t know how to help…she knew how to steamroll.

“There,” he said with a smile, obviously having missed her sarcasm completely. “We’ve settled it. Our wedding will be in August.”

“We still haven’t narrowed down a day,” Ari said.

“It doesn’t matter. See what you can book on what day and we’ll just go with that.”

“Fine.”

He kissed her cheek. “Sorry, but I have to run. People counting on me and all that. I’ll call you tonight.”

“Maybe you could come over tonight?” she said, giving him her best come-hither look. “We could celebrate our upcoming wedding.”

Not just celebrate, have sex. Wild, hot, steamy—

“I’d love to Adrienne, you know that, but I have surgery early tomorrow and I need my sleep. We’ll do something special this Saturday when we go out if you like.”

Darn. The only thing hot and steamy she was going to get was a long bubble bath.

What would Collin do if she whispered her fantasies about having sex right here and now?

Probably quirk his perfect eyebrow and tell her why it was a less than perfect idea. Not that she didn’t know that, but just once she’d like more than his chivalry…she wanted his lust. His unbridled passion.

She wanted an orgasm.

Not just one.

Multiple orgasms.

“Adrienne?” he asked.

“Sorry,” she said, feeling a bit shaky after her wild thoughts. “That’s fine. I understand.”

“I knew you would. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Fine.”

He kissed her on the cheek and headed back toward the hospital.

Ari walked toward the subway station, heading toward home. She had two more weeks before she started at the Warnheimer Institute of Psychology. She wished she’d already started her new job. After two years of juggling work and grad school, she wasn’t quite sure what to do with this time off. The day stretched before her with no end in sight.

No sex in sight, either.

What was wrong with her today?

Everything was perfect. Her life was exactly the way she’d planned. The perfect job and the perfect fiancé who’d finally set a wedding date.

She had the perfect life.

So, why was she feeling so…less than perfect? It couldn’t just be that she wanted sex. But other than no park-bench sex, everything was great. So, why wasn’t she thrilled?

Suddenly she knew she couldn’t head home. She’d go stark raving mad locked in her small apartment.

She decided to head to her parents’.

Yes, that was just the thing.

If anything could drive all thoughts of sex out of her mind, it was her parents.

She could enlist her mother’s help planning the wedding. Her mother could definitely take Collin’s mother if it came to a showdown.

Ari pushed all thoughts of orgasms out of her mind. She wasn’t going to think about sex, or about the strange empty feeling she got whenever she thought about actually marrying Collin.

She was lucky to have a man so perfect for her.

Perfectly wonderful.

That pretty much summarized Adrienne Kelly’s life.

SIMON MASTERSON read the headline of Rag Magazine.

Reading its headline—or any other part of the tabloid magazine—wasn’t something he normally did. But this particular headline couldn’t be ignored.

If The Wait Doesn’t Kill You…The Answering System Will.

Celia Nixon, his assistant and the current bearer of bad news, waited nervously for a response.

She shifted from one foot to the other. Tall and blond, she always made Simon think of a Valkyrie from the ancient Norse myths. She protected his privacy and ran the office with a cool, efficient hand. He’d be lost without her.

But Celia was a worrier. She was good at it…probably because she had so much practice.

“I’m sure it will be okay,” he said, soothingly. “After all, the customers we’re marketing to are more prone to read the Financial Journal than Rag Magazine. This is nothing.”

“I don’t know, Simon.” There was uncertainty in her voice. “Rag Magazine is popular and has a huge circulation. Why, there’s probably not a grocery store in the entire country that doesn’t carry it. Even if our clients don’t buy it, they won’t be able to miss that headline. I just don’t think we can afford to ignore this.”

“I do. So don’t worry about it.”

“But—”

“Really. Why don’t you get going on the plans for the reception, okay? I’m anxious for Cindy’s debut. Three months sounds like a long time, but really it isn’t. Actually it’s a little less than three months now and there’s still a lot to do.”

Celia gave him one last doubtful look before she shrugged and left his office.

Simon glanced at the magazine she’d left on his desk and shook his head.

Of course this wouldn’t be a problem. No one put any stock in publications like Rag Magazine. Now, if the Financial Journal had run a headline like that, he might worry. But a classy publication like the Journal would never run such a hyped-up story.

Having settled that particular problem in his mind, he promptly forgot all about the headline and went back to work. He had a few kinks to iron out before Cindy’s debut.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Talk to Daddy.”

Simon lost himself in the computer system, forgetting about the article, forgetting everything except a world of digital commands.

Here everything made sense. A always led to B, X always led to Y.

Orderly.

Dependable.

There were no worries about the future of his company riding on this one program. Cindy. His baby. Cutting-edge technology made user and consumer friendly.

Simon forgot all about the article as he ran through a part of the program that still needed some ironing out.

He lost himself in the solitary world of computer commands.

Hours later, Celia walked into the room. “Simon, Rag Magazine called for an interview, some guy named Newman—”

He looked up from his computer screen, glanced at the clock and noted he’d totally lost track of time again. It happened a lot when he was working.

“Sorry, what?”

“Rag Magazine called for an interview. They said that since SimonSays is known as an innovator in the answer-system market, you might want to make a comment on the article. They want to run a follow-up.”

“I hope you told them no.”

He turned back to the computer, the crisis settled in his mind.

“Of course I told them no,” Celia said. “But you’ve got another call on line one. I think you might want to take this one.”

He looked up impatiently from his screen. He just wanted to get this section right. “Who is it?”

“The Financial Journal. They want to interview you for their upcoming article on everyday stress and the impact that it has on twenty-first-century health.”

“The Financial Journal?” he asked weakly.

“Yes.”

Damn.

This was trouble.