Читать книгу Her Unexpected Affair - Shea McMaster - Страница 12

“Turn up the music, Jack,” Birdie called from the back seat.

“Enough, Bird,” Drew complained. “I’ve got a splitting headache coming on.”

“You’re getting old, brother dear.” The tease made him smile. But for a few measly months, they were the same age.

“Not old, just exhausted.”

“Yeah, yeah. You poor baby. All tuckered out and no rest in sight. Have you heard from the parents?” She started digging into her purse. “Guess we wouldn’t have heard our phones in there.”

“No, I didn’t check for messages.” But he pulled his phone from his pocket.

“Guess that means you had a good time tonight.” Jack’s smile was back to being a little sly. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you hitting on a woman ten years your senior.”

Ten years? “Didn’t seem like she was.” Gaze on his phone, he swiped the screen and saw there were a few messages waiting.

“They’re home!” Birdie chirped. “What time do we see them tomorrow?”

“Not too early.” Drew groaned, reading his own messages. The two of them had received the same texts.

“In graduate school and still letting your parents know what you’re up to every night? I’m impressed. My mother hasn’t followed my antics since I finished high school.” Jack turned on the wipers to clear the drops of mist forming on the windscreen.

“Won’t your parents be at graduation?” Drew asked absently as he typed a reply. “They should be at the house about now,” he commented over his shoulder. “Probably as wiped out as we are and jetlagged.”

“Not too bad,” Birdie replied. “They spent last night in New York. It’s easier flying west. This way they gain several hours instead of losing them.”

“Bet they’re already falling into bed.” The ding of a message arriving belied his prediction.

“Nope, they’re too wired to sleep, Mom says. Headed for the hot tub.”

A snort left Drew’s nose. Not something he wanted to think about. He’d caught them au naturel in the backyard spa once, not that they’d seen him. They’d been far too busy to notice Drew escaping the house for a late night soak. While he was thrilled for them—nice to know that in twenty years he could look forward to an active love life—it wasn’t something he’d wanted to see. A glimpse had been enough, and he’d quietly retreated back into the house and left them to it.

Still, he’d never seen affection of any kind between his father and his mother, good old Bea. So, yeah, while parent sex squicked him out, he was happy for them. They’d each had very different lives the twenty two years they’d been apart. He and his father had never known about Birdie. Not a whisper. The frozen, formal life they’d lived with Beatrice was a far cry from the warm, loving, emotional women they’d met by accident. Well, his father, a widower of six years, had been actively searching for Randi, a girl he’d known as Jean Dailey. The shock had shaken things up considerably. But the attraction between the two had been undeniable.

“They’d like us there by noon.” Birdie confirmed the text on his phone.

“Manageable. Barely.” The drive from Stanford to San Ramon would take an hour at least. Weekend traffic on any of the bridges crossing the San Francisco Bay could be as heavy as the week day commute. Depended on what was happening where. A baseball game, a marathon, or some festival could account for weekend backups. Throw in never ending road repair by CalTrans and it could slow things down even more. “We’ll leave as close to eleven as possible, if not a few minutes before.”

Absence of late night traffic had them home within twenty minutes. A minute later they waved good-bye to Jack and let themselves into their apartment, doing their best to not disturb the neighbors.

“So you’re hooked on an older woman?” Birdie’s smile was silly as she swayed while kicking off her heels.

“And you were dancing with men shorter than you with those shoes on. What’s your point?”

“Going to call her?”

Feigning nonchalance, he shrugged. “She’s getting engaged tomorrow. Some big deal party. Not likely we could get anything going.”

“Ah, that sucks.” The look of sadness on her face was genuine. Birdie couldn’t hide an emotion to save her life. He regularly walked away with her money after playing poker. Or Monopoly. Or any other game they wagered on. Sometimes he let her win, but recently time for games had been few and far between. With a little luck they could schedule some poker nights over the summer to break up the intense study ahead of him. Depended on how heavy her summer class load turned out to be.

“Well, it was a fun night.”

The sappy smile on her face and deep sigh gave him cause for alarm. “Yeah, it was fun. I never knew there were so many hot guys out there.”

“Didn’t you mostly dance with Jack?” Again, he kept his face neutral. Friendly. Just like the Golden Retriever dogs his father compared him to. That was him, just easy going, happy to be where he was, thrilled to have anyone to talk to, but happy to lie about in the sun when the opportunity arose. All true, and part of his carefully constructed outward persona. Worked perfect for the lawyer gig. Also made life a lot easier by letting him step back from the drama that could break out at a moment’s notice.

“Mostly, but there were five or six other guys I danced with. They also bought me drinks.”

That fact was evident in the way she staggered from the foyer to the kitchen for a glass of water. Damn, she was shit-faced and he hadn’t even noticed.

“Come on, Bird, off to bed with you. I’ll bring you a big glass of water and some aspirin.” He grabbed her upper arm and redirected her towards her bedroom.

“I’m fine. Lay off.” Although she protested, she didn’t fight him as he steered her into her room.

“I’ll let you undress yourself.”

“Damn right you will,” she grumbled on her way face down onto the bed.

Drew sighed. She was out cold. He threw a blanket over her. At some point she’d wake up and get herself situated. In the meantime, he filled a large covered cup with a straw with cold water and set it on the nightstand with a couple tablets. Sure she could breathe, he left her room and shut the door. Lightweight.

A text pinged through and he checked his phone. It was Randi. Birdie okay? She didn’t answer.

Drew tapped in a response. Passed out. We went dancing in the City. She’s wrung out from end of the quarter. Still has finals next week.

A moment later Randi replied. You are too. Thanks for keeping an eye on her. Sweet dreams. CBR sends his love to you both.

A grin curled his lips. Backatcha, Mum.

Only a few seconds passed before she responded with a heart. Damn, if that didn’t fill him with warmth.

Drew tossed his phone down on the bed and undressed in the dark of his room. If he dreamed of one certain Asian beauty, his sleep would certainly be sweet. Tortured, but sweet. Briefly he entertained the thought of calling her in the morning and seeing if he could talk her out of the engagement. Right. Some fantasy that was. She’d been out for a final fling with her friends. The next time might not happen until another one was getting married, and then she’d be far less open to flirtation. Much less a kiss.

Ah, that kiss. It would haunt him for years to come.

* * * *

Meilin paid the cab driver, the last one to be dropped off. The girls had all shoved money into her hand to cover their share. The man had a pretty good tip for making sure each one of them made it safely to their homes. The husbands who’d been waiting up had met each wife at the door and called out good night with a wave.

Would Shan be so amused and tolerant on the very rare nights she’d go out with the girls? Granted they might do it once a year, but would his social standing be flexible enough to allow her a night of fun even then? Or would she be limited to stuffy formal affairs mixed with family holiday gatherings? Would she and her friends have to limit themselves to Bunco or Mahjong parties?

She managed to enter her building and make her way up three flights of stairs to her apartment off the west end of California Avenue. An older building in the Richmond District, not far south of the Presidio, it was redolent of cooking from the older tenants and years of dust that no longer easily vacuumed out of the carpet. Her parents weren’t impressed with the building, but it was cozy, convenient to transportation, the rent was reasonable, and she loved the neighbors.

She didn’t have much time to spare for them, but from time to time she helped carry groceries up the stairs, or sat down to tea with octogenarians who’d been young children during the Great Depression. One had lived in the Philippines with her parents during the worst of the Depression and loved to go through Meilin’s catalogues and design books, talking about the beautiful Chinese furniture and objets d’art. Meilin had tried to take her down to Gump’s during the Christmas season, but, Edna had sighed, it just wasn’t the same once they’d moved from the original location. And while Neiman Marcus and Saks were beautiful, they just didn’t have the same sophistication as the old City of Paris and I. Magnin. Edna still had her wedding dress purchased at the latter in the early fifties and had many times shown Meilin the pictures of her wedding to a handsome young Coast Guard officer. Now faced with what she was sure would be a huge, showy, society wedding, Meilin found herself a tad envious of the simple ceremony pictured in Edna’s album. Few guests in a cozy venue, the young men handsome in their uniforms, the two bridesmaids looking fresh in their dresses fluffed out with crinolines.

Inside her apartment, she flicked the three door locks and turned on only a table lamp in the small living room. She’d lived here six years now and didn’t really relish the idea of moving into Shan’s sleek, modern, high rise condo. On the other hand, his condo building did have an elevator. A couple months after she’d redone the design, he’d hosted a cocktail party there for a small group of his parents’ friends and colleagues. He hadn’t specifically invited her, at least not to show off her work, but she’d attended at her mother’s insistence. Had Mom been matchmaking all those months ago? Probably.

That was most likely when the negotiations had begun.

Funny she should see it now, but hadn’t noticed then. Hadn’t wanted to notice.

In the bathroom she slowly removed her clothes before dropping the dress into the dry cleaning hamper. Shan’s condo didn’t have a bathroom with hand-laid hexagonal tiles that covered the floor and climbed the lower half of the walls, or a claw-footed cast iron tub. Instead of renovating, she’d merely decorated his private bath, a room about the size of her living room, with glass and chrome everywhere. It had already been outfitted with a tub big enough for four, and marble lined the floor and walls. She’d added huge fluffy towels to hang on the towel heater, painted the walls gold and black, and added a few accessories. That part of the job had been very easy. Not much different than other installations she’d sold to other clients. And not once had she been thinking it would be hers someday.

She shouldn’t be complaining. Instead, she should be thinking of all the connections that would open up to her. There wasn’t much she’d have to do to Shan’s condo, but there were things she could still do to put her personal stamp on the spaces. Things that would bring in more new clients for her. The extra business would keep her busy enough not to worry about her lack of independence.

Shan had his business, she had hers. Unless he insisted she become a society wife and leave her work behind. Then things would get sticky. If he were willing to put off children a couple years, enough so that she could bring in other designers to handle most of the work, she could retreat to a hands-off, directorial position, keeping a hand in the jobs but not handling the small details. She could combine motherhood with work then.

The big question for her came down to needing to know how traditional he felt about life in general. Relationship roles. Maybe her mother would have some deeper insight. Something she hadn’t really taken the time to worry about. Now with the engagement imminent, she was forced to think things through. Had she buried her head in the sand on purpose?

Having her parents arrange the marriage had seemed like a short cut since she hadn’t made time to cultivate a romantic relationship. Was it more of a cop-out?

Lord, she was so tired. She didn’t have the energy to contemplate it tonight.

Wiping the cream cleanser and the makeup from her face, she briefly contemplated a bath. Or a faster shower. Tomorrow—or rather today—was tightly booked with a trip to a spa to prepare for the party. She had to look her best, which put sleep at the top of her priorities. So. No bath, no shower. Cold water from the tap filled her plastic cup and she drank it down. Cool and refreshing. Now she just had to face her lonely bed and try to put the memory of one certain, young Englishman and his kiss from her mind.

Yeah, like that could work.