Читать книгу Everything Changes - Меган Харт - Страница 4

She’d left them on the bed, folded neater than he ever would have and tied with a hot pink ribbon that matched the smiling faces printed on the black material.

Hello Kitty.

Alex Kennedy, thirty-five, single and devastatingly fucking handsome, looked in the mirror. Straightened his tie. Smoothed his shirt. He slicked a hand back over his hair and stared into his own eyes for so long he imagined, for just a moment, he saw something there.

A blink and another slide of his hand across his hair, and he looked at the bed again. They were only pajama bottoms, and they wouldn’t bite. But Genevieve could, and had, and he wouldn’t have put it past her to try again.

She’d written his full name across the front of the card. She was the only person who’d ever insisted on it. Alexander. The Great, she sometimes added with that low, throaty laugh. Usually when she had his cock in her fist. She’d said it the last time she jerked him off while some dude they’d picked up at a club got between her legs and ate her until she came.

The gift had been waiting for him when he got home from the meeting, which had been short and to the point. Global Communicom was buying him out, utterly, and taking over the transportation business he’d built here in Singapore. So sorry, Alex old chap, but there’s no room for you on the executive board, not even in a consultant’s position. Take the money, please, and get the fuck out. Alex wasn’t stupid enough to think it had nothing to do with the fact he’d been fucking Reginald Bell’s wife on and off for the past six months. Which was probably why she’d left him this present, he thought with another glance at the bed and its perfectly made-up sheets, the comforter pulled smooth over the top. She must have used her key to get in while he was out.

He looked again at his reflection. Transcom had meant everything to him, had been built with sweat and blood. He’d left behind his entire life to come here and start it up, and in less than ten years had made himself a millionaire. Take the check, he thought. And get out, fuck you very much, have a nice day.

Alex tugged one end and the smooth, slippery ribbon twisted around his fingers as it came loose from the floppy bow. The pants were cotton, black, with hot-pink Hello Kitty faces all over. Women’s pajama pants, but the elastic waist would be big enough to fit him, easily. She knew him well enough not to misjudge something as simple as a size. He should be considering himself lucky she hadn’t sent him a pair of ladies’ frilly panties instead.

He tried to think if she’d ever left him a note before, but couldn’t remember. Text messages, sure. Dozens of them, usually filthy just like her mouth and just like she loved him to be. Well, not loved. Genevieve Bell didn’t love anything but herself. Even her pets had been chosen for their use as accessories and investment rather than anything as base as an emotional connection.

How many swipes of her tongue had licked this flap closed? He tore the paper, thinking of her mouth. She’d have laughed if she knew. Maybe she did. She knew a lot about people, even the ones who tried like hell not to let her see anything important. Especially those people.

Him.

The front of the card was blank but for a small black square in one corner, a stylized gift. Inside: Happy Birthday. That was all. Two words, no summons or command. Not even a signature. He’d walked out on her, but it was Genevieve who’d cut him loose.

That was worth a thank-you, if nothing else was, but because he was the asshole she’d called him more than once, Alex didn’t call her to give it. He looked around his flat at all the pretty things he didn’t care if he never saw again.

He had enough money to go anywhere and do anything he wanted, but in the end there was only one thing to do. One place to go. One person to call.

“Jamie,” he said when the man on the other side of the world answered his phone. “Guess what? I’m coming home.”

The woman in the kitchen stood with a bowl in her hands, her face crunched in concentration. In profile her features were not as soft as they’d been in her wedding picture, but her hair hung halfway down her back in a mess of red-brown curls a man could get lost in. Alex watched her from the doorway, thinking what a lucky bastard Jamie had always been. Looked like the luck had held out.

“Hello, Anne.”

She screamed and dropped her spoon. He tensed to duck, but she didn’t throw anything at him. She set the bowl on the counter with a clang. There was more to say, an introduction to make, but looking at her wide, startled eyes and her mouth, half-open, Alex couldn’t seem to find one.

It lasted a long time, that first moment. He got to see the color of her eyes and watch the rise and fall of her shoulders as she caught her breath. He’d known she was pretty from her photos, as if he couldn’t have guessed just from the fact his best friend had married her. But the woman in front of him was more than an alignment of features, a curve of ass and tit and belly. This was the woman who’d married Jamie. She could’ve had three eyes and an ass the size of Arizona, and Alex would’ve wanted a piece of her.

The silence drew out. Just before it got awkward, he made a show looking over the rims of his sunglasses around the kitchen and back at her. “Hi. Anne.”

“Alex? Wow. I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you.”

He was the big bad wolf when he took off his sunglasses, all the better to see her with. Released from the shadows made by the dark lenses, her face sprung into high relief. Every freckle, every line, every curve. She had smooth, straight eyebrows no entirely straight guy would have noticed. Not that Alex gave a damn. He hadn’t been entirely straight since the eighth grade.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I rang Jamie’s cell and he said to head on over. He said he’d call you. I guess he didn’t.”

“He didn’t.” She laughed and ducked her head, wariness in her gaze.

What had Jamie told her about him? More importantly, what had he kept a secret?

“Bastard.” The kitchen hadn’t changed much since the days when he and Jamie would bike their way over to hang out with Jamie’s grandparents and swim in Lake Erie, which edged the property. He made himself at home as Anne watched him with an expression he doubted she knew looked so cautious. Women liked smiles. It put them at ease. He gave her one of his best. “Something smells good.”

She was baking bread and making brownies, and from the too-casual way she described it, he knew it was more for Mrs. Kinney’s benefit than anything Anne herself wanted to do. Jamie’s mom had stopped making Alex nervous a long time ago, but that’s because he’d stopped giving a fuck what she thought. Then again, he hadn’t married her son.

He studied Anne’s efforts and listened to her describe what she’d done so far. He could do this, help her out. Prove right off the bat that no matter what stories Jamie had told, Alex wasn’t all bad. He might be a rascal, but he could bake a kick-ass brownie.

Another smile, as charming as he could make it. Once on a trip out West he’d gone to a prairie dog farm, where the little rodents would take a peanut from your hand if you sat very, very still. He felt a little something like that now, like she was some skittish, pretty creature he ought to do his best to tame.

“Want to know the trick?”

“Of making brownies?” Her face showed him she was expecting another sort of trick, maybe one on her, and Alex pricked his mental Mrs. Kinney doll with another set of pins.

“Want me to show you?”

Butter, chocolate. A low flame. He didn’t really need magic, just patience. In another few minutes the batter was finished and ready for tasting.

He tasted, and so did she. He grinned at her. “Brownies fit for a queen.”

“Or James’ mother.”

“Even her.”

Her first real smile had been worth waiting for. It was easy to see why Jamie had fallen for her. He was very glad to see she didn’t look scared of him any more.

She was a better wife than he was a friend, though, because she cleared her throat and moved back, just an inch or so, but enough to matter. “I should go shower. Your room’s ready, I just have to get some clean towels.”

Alex had been with women who’d have made that an invitation, but not even his ego let him think she was coming on to him. “I don’t want you to go to a lot of trouble.”

“It’s not any trouble, Alex.”

His name slipped out of her mouth, casual, an afterthought. Her smile had connected them but saying his name sewed them up tight together. He wanted to hear her say it again. It had been…

“Perfect,” he said, not meaning the towels or her effort, though she didn’t know it.

Maybe there wasn’t a moment. Maybe it was in his head, but Anne broke it anyway with her laugh and a gesture at the chocolate all over her clothes and hands from where she’d gripped the bowl. He watched her lick it from her fingertips and there was no more denying it. He was an asshole.

“You have some just…there.” His thumb traced the corner of her mouth, which opened at his touch.

Fuck, her lips were soft. The tip of her tongue hovered and he wanted to slide his thumb into her mouth’s heat. He wanted to kiss away the sweetness on her mouth…but he didn’t.

She backed away, her eyes going over his shoulder, and Alex already knew what he’d see. “Jamie,” he said as though he hadn’t just been thinking dirty thoughts about his best friend’s wife. “How the fuck’ve you been?”

The dinner part went as well as anything involving the Kinneys could. Evelyn curled her lip at him but had been polite, at least. She was always polite in front of other people. Alex reminded himself he didn’t give a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut what the old hag thought, or had ever thought, or ever would think.

He made sure to linger around Jamie and whisper in his ear when he saw her watching.

The look she gave him then was well worth the look on Jamie’s face, that sort of half-startled, half-lazy leer Alex bet Jamie didn’t even feel in his eyes and on his mouth. Leaning so close his lips brushed Jamie’s ear, Alex could smell the new cologne his friend wore. Underneath it, the scent of the same soap he’d used for years, that and fabric softener. In a blink they were back in junior high, wrestling over a copy of Mad Magazine on Jamie’s bed.

“Goodbye, Mrs. Kinney,” he made sure to say sweetly when Jamie’s family left. “Great to see you again.”

She was too much of a bitch to know he meant it. Once upon a time Jamie’s family had been his, too. At least he’d thought so then. He knew better now.

Anne went to bed early, and as soon as she did, Jamie was pulling open the cabinet to bring down a bottle of Jack so dusty his fingers left a mark on the glass. He put it on the table with a triumphant grin and brought out two shot glasses, too.

“Let’s drink.”

After leaving Singapore and making his way through Amsterdam, Germany and a few other countries, Alex and the hours on the clock still weren’t seeing eye-to-eye. Jet lag had nothing on the bone-deep level of exhaustion threatening to topple him, but the shower he’d taken before the Kinneys arrived had woken him, as had the company. He was too jazzed to sleep but too tired to make much sense of things.

“Hell, yes.” The first shot tore through his veins and slashed a sliver in his throat, making him cough so hard Jamie had to pound his back.

“Jeeze, man. Don’t die on me—you just got here.” Jamie looked down the hall to the bedrooms. Interesting, that he didn’t want his wife to know he was knocking back a couple shots with his friend. “Let’s go out on the deck.”

He took the bottle. Alex followed. Outside the chill breeze drifting off the lake felt good on his face with the fire from the liquor still burning its way to his gut. Alex shuffled in his pocket for the Marlboros he was going to quit one of these days. The lighter flared and he drew in smoke, deep, before easing it out through his nose. He looked up at the night sky.

Jamie eased into the space beside him, close enough the heat from his bare arm pressed at Alex’s through the fabric of the shirt that had been too fancy for the dinner party. There was plenty of room for the other man along the deck railing. Jamie didn’t need to stand so close.

Alex slung an arm around Jamie’s shoulders, pulling him closer and pinching Jamie’s bicep before shoving him a few steps away with a hip. “Your mom seemed glad to see me.”

Jamie laughed. He gripped the railing with big, strong hands. He’d grown since college, thicker through the shoulders and thighs. The arm Alex had pinched had nothing much to grab on it but solid muscle. He wasn’t much like the skinny kid who’d sat behind Alex in homeroom in junior high. Neither of them were.

“You know my mom,” Jamie said, which wasn’t an excuse for her but didn’t invite criticism, either.

What must it be like for Anne, Alex wondered as he drew in another long, slow breath of sweetly burning smoke and let it drift from his nostrils. Married to the golden boy? Evelyn must’ve tried her best to eat her alive.

“Thanks for letting me stay with you.” He ground the cigarette into an empty coffee can he swore had been there since Jamie’s grandpa had owned the place.

“No problem.” Jamie grinned and punched Alex on the shoulder. “Glad to have you back.”

That was what guys did to the ones they loved. Punched or pinched, gave them Indian rubs or knuckled their scalps. That’s what Alex and Jamie had always done. But now Jamie sidled closer again, his arm brushing Alex’s sleeve, and though he kept his gaze turned out to the night and the lake and the lights from Cedar Point Amusement Park across the water, there was no way he couldn’t know they were touching.

“I never thought I’d say it, but I’m glad to be back. At least for a while.”

Jamie’s shoulders hunched. The motion pressed his arm harder against Alex’s sleeve. Their hands were inches apart. All Alex had to do was spread his fingers wide, and he’d be able to touch Jamie’s hand. But that wasn’t what straight guys did. That wasn’t how they touched.

Jamie turned to look at him. “It’s been a long time, man.”

Since what? After the big fight in college they hadn’t talked for years, but then the wedding invitation had come. Alex hadn’t gone to Jamie’s wedding—he couldn’t, not after so much time. But it had opened the door. They’d talked sometimes on the phone after that and sent occasional e-mails that had become more frequent. But they hadn’t really seen each other in person since the night Alex had put Jamie through a glass table and spent the night sitting next to him in the E.R., holding his hand while a doctor who looked like Ed Grimley stitched him back together.

“Yeah. It has.”

Then Alex reminded himself he no longer gave a fuck what anyone thought, and he reached to pull Jamie closer to him for the hug he’d wanted to give him all along. Jamie came willingly enough, if awkwardly, his elbow knocking against the deck railing. Alex pressed his face into the side of Jamie’s neck, smelling his new cologne and the old soap, the familiar and strange scent of his oldest and best friend. He nuzzled closer for a second, not too long.

“You can hug me back, fucker,” he murmured into Jamie’s skin. “Anything above the waist isn’t gay.”

Jamie’s laugh sounded a little strangled, but his arms came up and held Alex tight, then tighter. He drew in a breath that pressed their bodies together. The breadth of Jamie’s shoulders and chest didn’t feel the same in an embrace as they did in a wrestling hold, and Alex held on a few more seconds. Almost too long, but then he pushed his friend away and added a one-two punch, left and right, to Jamie’s arms as the other man held up his hands to fend him off. They were back to being dudes again.

Alex put a few steps distance between them. Solid. There were places they weren’t meant to go. Not together, anyway. Not if he wanted to keep one of the few things in his life that had always meant something to him.

“How long you going to be around?” If Jamie noticed Alex’s retreat, he didn’t show it.

“As long as you can stand me. I’ve got some things lined up, people to talk to about stuff, but I don’t have anywhere to be for a while.” The first part was less true than the last. People to talk to equaled calling up old contacts and seeing if there was anything open for him.

“Nothing wrong with taking some time off, right? Can’t you afford it, Richie Rich?” Jamie tossed a few air punches his way. “If I could make a million by selling my company and retiring, I’d do it.”

“You wouldn’t, and you know it. Besides, a million doesn’t last long with tastes like mine.” Alex buffed his nails on his shirt, and they both laughed.

“You and your tastes. So, you still…?” Jamie’s voice got low and trailed off, but his eyes didn’t cut away.

Alex tensed. The last time they’d had this discussion it had ended badly, and they’d managed to avoid it ever since. Still, he was here and if it was going to make trouble he’d rather have it now. Get it over with. “Fuck guys? Yeah. Sometimes.”

Jamie had been holding his breath because now it blew out in a long, slow gust. “Do you have a…anyone…”

Alex watched his friend struggle for half a minute before figuring out what Jamie was trying to say. “You mean like a boyfriend?”

“Yeah.” The relief at not having to say it out loud was evident in Jamie’s voice, but Alex gave him points for at least trying.

“No. I don’t have a girlfriend, either,” Alex said, easily enough considering this was a conversation a long time in coming. “But lookit you, brother, all locked up in the bonds of holy matrimony and shit. How’s that treating you?”

Tension eased. Jamie turned to lean against the deck railing. The drinks had been forgotten, or put aside. “Great. Anne’s the best thing that ever happened to me. She’s perfect.”

Nobody was perfect, but even Alex wasn’t so much of an asshole that he was going to point that out. “Good for you.”

“She’s smoking fucking hot, for one thing,” Jamie said, all confidence that nobody could disagree. He looked at Alex. “Don’t you think?”

Alex knew him well enough to know he wasn’t looking for reassurance. Jamie moved through life with the indelible knowledge he was right. When he asked for confirmation it was not to reassure himself but others they were correct. Alex had lied a few times to Jamie just to make him happy, but he didn’t have to lie now.

“Yeah. She is.”

Jamie moved again while Alex stayed still. He turned back to look at the lake, then around again to face his friend, then paced a few steps back and forth. If anxious energy cast a light, Jamie would have been burning like a star.

“I’m really glad you came to stay, man. It’s been too fucking long, you know?”

Alex knew. But he wondered what, exactly, Jamie knew. “Are you gonna get all sappy on me?”

Jamie’s laugh lacked some of its old flair and sounded forced. Alex watched him carefully and then pulled another cigarette from his pocket. He licked it, but didn’t light it, and he didn’t miss the way Jamie’s eyes followed every move or the way he ran his hand through his hair and practically levitated off the deck.

“You remember Ellen Haskins?”

Alex had to think for a moment, frowning, before the image of a girl with large melon tits and bleached blond hair popped into his memory. His frown eased into a smile. “Yeah. You wanted to ask her to Homecoming.”

“She went with you, ya fucker.”

“But she went home with you, brother. Parking, right? Didn’t you get two fingers deep in her that night?”

Jamie laughed. “I did.”

“What about her?”

Jamie’s laugh faded away. He paced. “You knew I liked her, but you went after her.”

Shit. Well, there was part of it, right there. Jamie didn’t need to know that after Ellen had dumped his ass and left with Jamie, Alex had gotten a couple of joints and some superior head from Chad Phillips beneath the bleachers.

“Jamie, Christ.” If there was something to come out it was best to do it now the way they’d done the other shit. “She’s your wife. You’re my best friend. Still my best friend. High school was a long time ago.”

Jamie stopped and went suddenly still. He turned, fast, to look at Alex and the pleasure on his face was unmistakable. He swallowed, the sound audible even from a few feet away. He took a couple steps closer. “Actually that’s not what I was worried about.”

Alex frowned. “You want me not to tell her I like guys, too? Dude, I’m not really in the habit of describing my sex life in detail to people just for the hell of it. But if you’re asking me to lie about it…”

“No. No, no.” Jamie put up his hands to fend off the words. He moved closer again. “Anne wouldn’t care about that, anyway.”

“Fuck, dude. Calm down. What the hell is the matter with you?” Alex watched him warily, then went against his better judgment and reached out to grab Jamie’s upper arms. “Stop dancing around like we’re at a fucking debutante ball. Tell me.”

“You’re my best friend, too,” Jamie said.

“Yeah? And?”

Jamie went still. Totally motionless. Under Alex’s hands, the muscles in Jamie’s arms leaped once and then tightened to stone.

“I want you to be with her.”

Neither of them laughed. This was dirty talk, but no joke. Jamie meant it, Alex could see it in every line of his friend’s face and in the rock-solid stillness of his body.

They’d talked about this, once or twice. The idea of sharing a chick. But it had been a long time ago, back when Jamie thought Alex only liked women. It had always been talk.

“You want me to fuck your wife?”

He should’ve felt guiltier for already having thought about it, but this was different. Thinking wasn’t doing.

Jamie hesitated, then shook his head, just barely. “Maybe not that. But other stuff. We could do other stuff with her.”

“Seriously? What the fuck.” Alex let go of Jamie’s arms. It was his turn to pace. He lit the cigarette, too, bringing in smoke and holding it in his mouth for a long time before letting it out.

“She wants it.”

Alex shot Jamie a glance over his shoulder. “She just met me.”

“I mean she wants to be with two guys at the same time. And you’re the only one I…trust.”

There was more to it than that, and they both knew it even as they both neatly skated over it. Alex groaned and let his head loll back on his shoulders to look up at the night sky. Jamie seemed to take this for an agreement.

“I want to make her happy.”

“I can’t screw around with your wife.” He said the words flatly to leave them open for no argument, but Jamie had never been one to let go of an idea once he’d grabbed it.

“What’s the matter with my wife?”

“Nothing…” With a sigh at Jamie’s inexorable will, Alex slanted a glance at his friend. “What about you? Can you handle it?”