Читать книгу Operation Gigolo - Vicki Lewis Thompson - Страница 7

THE NIGHT BEFORE the trip to Sedona, Tony dug in his closet, unearthing memories as he worked, and came up with a couple of pairs of jeans he’d worn in high school. Michelle had begged him to get rid of this old stuff, claiming that he had no reason to keep it.

But there was a reason. He didn’t want to totally lose the connection to the hell-raiser he’d been back then, and the clothes helped make that connection. He smiled to himself. Lynn had no idea that the punk she’d described as her parents’ worst nightmare was Tony Russo fourteen years ago.

The tattoo was a souvenir from his senior year, his way of balancing the embarrassment of ending up the valedictorian. When he got drunk with his buddies one night and was caught spray-painting Class of ‘84 on the hood of the principal’s Caddy, the school board hadn’t wanted to let him graduate, let alone give the valedictory speech. His mother had pleaded his case and suggested his penance be cleaning gum off the bottom of the bleachers. To this day the smell of chewing gum made him sick to his stomach.

He pulled open a dresser drawer and dug in the back for the white T-shirts he hardly ever wore these days. They’d seen a lot of use at one time, and they felt soft and familiar in his grip. He kept one out for the plane ride and tossed the rest in a large duffel bag just as the phone on the bedside table rang. As he picked up the receiver, he wondered if Lynn had some last-minute instructions for him.

“Tony?”

Michelle. And she sounded as if she’d been crying, dammit. He tried to harden his heart. “Yeah, Michelle.”

“Are you busy?”

He tensed. “Kind of. What’s wrong?”

“I’d like…” She sniffed. “I’d like to come over, if it’s okay.”

He glanced at the clock. Michelle in tears, wanting to see him at eleven at night, couldn’t mean anything but trouble with Jerry. Jerry, his stockbroker and health-club buddy, the guy who’d spent his evenings playing handball with Tony and his afternoons playing bedroom games with Michelle.

“I know it’s late.” Michelle’s voice quavered. “I just…need to talk to somebody.”

He sighed. “Okay.”

“Thanks, Tony.”

“Don’t mention it. That’s what ex-husbands are for.” As he hung up, he wondered why he hadn’t told her to get lost. She deserved to be told that, after the way she’d treated him. He was a sucker when it came to the women in his life, just as his brothers and sisters had always said. They’d advised him to use the adultery issue to make sure Michelle didn’t get a dime, but instead he’d agreed to split their assets down the middle. His family called that stupid, but he’d handled enough divorce cases to know that nobody was blameless. He’d been concentrating too hard on his job, leaving her alone too much and paving the way for Jerry to step in.

For the first couple of years of marriage everything had been wonderful. She’d been his Uptown Girl, just like in the Billy Joel song that had been such a hit back in high school. It hadn’t hurt that she’d looked a little like Christie Brinkley, and he’d always identified with a working-class type like Billy Joel. Then he’d become more involved in his law career and had never quite noticed that the magic was slipping away.

He repressed thoughts of Michelle and his mistakes as best he could and continued packing. As much as he’d resisted the idea of Operation Gigolo when Lynn had first proposed it, he’d finally realized he’d be a fool to refuse. He’d wanted to ask her out for weeks, but he’d held back, afraid she’d think a recently divorced guy was a bad risk. As family-law specialists they’d both seen how divorce screwed up anyone’s judgment concerning the opposite sex.

He figured she’d think any interest on his part was strictly on the rebound from Michelle. At this point, Tony wondered if she might not be right. Maybe it was a good thing Michelle was coming over. He hadn’t seen her for six months.

He stared at his open duffel and wondered if he’d forgotten anything. Cigarettes. Lynn had said something about a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, but he’d given up smoking years ago. Then he remembered that Sam, another lawyer friend, had left half a pack behind over the weekend when he’d dropped over to watch a Cubs game on TV. Tony walked into the kitchen and rummaged through his catchall drawer until he found the cigarettes he’d tossed in there, meaning to return them.

Shaking one out, he found matches in the same drawer and cupped the flame as he lit up. Funny how the action, after so many years, brought back the old swagger. It brought back a slight cough, too. He’d never been a heavy smoker, doing it more for effect than for the nicotine buzz. That had made quitting more bearable than it had been for some of his high-school pals. If he limited himself to one cigarette whenever he was around Lynn’s parents, he shouldn’t get hooked again.

The doorbell rang, and he took another drag on the cigarette before walking over to let Michelle in.

“Tony!” Sobbing, she flung herself dramatically into his arms.

He damn near burned her with the cigarette as he caught her. “Easy, Michelle.” Holding the cigarette a safe distance away, he put an arm around her trembling shoulders and guided her to the couch. “What’s the problem?”

She plopped down and gazed at him through brimming eyes. The glue on her right eyelash was failing, and the black fringe dangled from her eyelid, dancing like a drunk butterfly each time she blinked.

“Eyelash alert,” he said automatically. He’d forgotten how lousy she’d always been at putting them on, but she persisted, believing that her own blond lashes were too short and undramatic. Her hair wasn’t as thick as she’d like it to be, either, and he knew that at this very moment she had fake hair fastened in with her own. He’d never been able to run his fingers through Michelle’s hair without danger of permanent injury from the metal clips.

“Thanks.” She reached up and pulled the eyelash off, which left her with an interesting effect—one eye ready to party and the other one ready for sleep. She began to sniffle again and searched through her minuscule shoulder bag.

“Damn, you can’t put anything in these. Do you have a—”

“Here.” He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and handed it to her. As she blew her nose, he took another drag on the cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray.

“Oh, Tony…” She wiped her eyes and took a shaky breath. “I should never have left you for Jerry.”

His heart clutched. That had been what he’d wanted to hear for months, right? So why wasn’t he feeling a thrill of triumph, instead of this uneasy dread? “What’s happened?” he asked.

“He sucks his teeth.”

Tony laughed. It wasn’t a kind thing to do, and he controlled it as quickly as he could. “You didn’t notice that before?”

“Well, sort of, but I didn’t think I’d care. Did you…did you ever notice that about him?”

“Yeah, but when you’re playing handball it’s not a big item of concern.”

“That’s not all. He wears some of his underwear until it’s dangling from the elastic by about three threads.” She glanced at Tony. “You knew that, too, didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “We dressed in the same locker room. Sure I noticed.” After the fact, he wished he’d checked out Jerry’s studly endowments, too. The guy had stolen his wife, and Tony couldn’t help wondering if Jerry was more than a good listener.

“I threw all the raggedy ones away today, and he yelled at me. Then I yelled at him about his teeth, and he yelled about stabbing himself on my hair clips, and then he said my eyelashes gave him a rash and looked stupid.”

“Then he shouldn’t wear your eyelashes, should he?”

She giggled. “You know what I mean. Do my eyelashes look stupid, Tony?”

“Uh, not when they’re both attached.” Which was seldom, he remembered. But he’d loved her, idiosyncrasies and all.

She sighed. “You were so easy to live with.”

But she hadn’t been, he was remembering now. With each year, she’d needed more reassurance that she was beautiful and desirable. He’d grown tired of the constant questioning, and his answers must have become tired and clichéd, too. That could have had a lot to do with the Jerry episode. Nothing like an affair to shore up somebody’s ego.

“I thought you were in love with Jerry,” he said quietly. He’d expected to feel pain when he said that, but miraculously, he didn’t.

“I thought I was too, but how can you love somebody who sucks his teeth and wears Swiss-cheese underwear?”

For the first time in the whole mess he was beginning to understand. He’d committed himself to love and cherish, in sickness and in health, through hairpieces and dangling eyelashes, but Michelle had been operating on a much shallower level. And she still was.

She took a deep breath. “I thought about all this during the cab ride over here. I think you and I should give it another try.”

“You spent the whole cab ride thinking about that?” He heard the sarcasm in his voice and decided that wouldn’t help matters. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“What was uncalled for?”

He gazed at her. She hadn’t caught the sarcasm. For her, a cab ride across Chicago was plenty of time to consider changing her life, and the lives of those around her. Like so many others who came through his law office, he’d invested his love in the wrong person. But it didn’t seem to be invested there anymore. Still, they’d shared a lot, and he wanted her to be as happy as she could be, considering the emotional handicaps she had to overcome.

“I don’t think getting back together is the answer,” he said gently.

“But I do, Tony.”

“Well, I don’t, and I’ll tell you why. One of the reasons you didn’t notice irritating little things about me was that I wasn’t here much. When I was, I was on my best behavior. Eventually, though, you’d find out that I whistle off-key and I’m a manic channel surfer.”

“Your whistling’s cute.”

“You haven’t heard much of it. I’ve been at the office, trying to forge this career. Ask Sam about my whistling.”

“Whistling wouldn’t bother me. And you hardly ever watch TV.”

“Ah, but one day I’ll have more time, and then I’d use that remote to drive you crazy.”

“Tony, none of that matters. What matters is—”

“What, Michelle? What matters?”

“That we love each other.” Her blue eyes grew dreamy.

He felt a nostalgic tug, remembering how he used to respond to that look of hers. “Ten months ago you told me you loved Jerry.”

“I was so wrong.”

“Then learn to love him.”

The dreamy look dissolved as she stared at him. “What?”

“I’m sure Jerry has lots of good qualities.”

“Name one.”

“Hey.” He chuckled. “Don’t ask me to do that. I’m willing to be charitable, but listing Jerry’s good qualities is a little much, even for a sap like me.”

“See, you don’t like him!”

“No, but you need to. You left our marriage for him, and you need to find things about him that you can cherish, things that make the holey underwear and the teeth-sucking seem like small change.”

“I thought you’d understand.” She flounced to her feet, looking petulant. “But you’re just making fun of me.”

He stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Actually, I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

“I don’t believe that. I think—” Her eyes narrowed.

“You’ve found someone, haven’t you?”

“No.” A picture of Lynn flashed through his mind. He’d bet he could run his fingers through her rich brown hair without being stabbed. But as of now Lynn was only a good friend and their current arrangement was just a charade to fool her parents. “No, there’s no one,” he said.

“Then why won’t you consider getting back together?”

He searched for the words that would make her understand without hurting her. “Look, I still care about you. I probably always will. But that deep, down-to-the-bone commitment I used to have, that feeling that I’d give my life for you—that’s gone, Michelle. I didn’t know that until you came over tonight, but I know it now.”

“We could get it back!”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Make up with Jerry. Work on what you have.” He smiled. “Buy him some sexy new underwear.”

“You are making fun of me.” She glared at him.

“Honest, I’m not.”

“You really don’t think we should start over?”

He shook his head.

“Then I might as well go home to Jerry.”

He followed her to the door and opened it. “That’s what I’m saying. He’s your best shot, not me.”

She started into the hall, then paused and glanced back at him. “Are you sure my eyelashes don’t look stupid?”

“They’re part of you, Michelle. Don’t change a thing.”

She smiled. “Thanks.” Then she frowned, as if trying to remember something. “Were you smoking when I first came in?”

It was just like her to be so wrapped up in herself that she hadn’t noticed until now. He thought about explaining and decided not to. “Yeah, I was.”

She shuddered. “Yuck. I would hate that.”

“See? We’re really not right for each other anymore.” Then, to get a laugh out of her, he sucked loudly on his teeth.

It worked. She laughed. “We had some good times, didn’t we, Tony?”

A whisper of what he used to feel for her passed over his heart and was gone. “Yes, we did. Take care of yourself, Michelle.”

“You, too.”

He watched her walk down the hallway and could find no regret remaining in his soul. It was a good way to begin tomorrow’s adventure.

LYNN LIVED at the opposite end of Chicago from Tony, so they hadn’t seen much percentage in sharing a cab to O’Hare. She’d agreed to meet him at the gate, and as she stood in the waiting area, fidgeting with the handle of her rolling carry-on, she took several calming breaths. Preperformance jitters, probably, similar to the ones she got before stepping into the courtroom.

Except this nervousness had a special edge to it. She’d come up with the idea in the heat of the crisis, and she still loved the plan, but she’d had time to consider the ramifications in the days since then. For example, she’d have to put on a convincing display of affection for Tony, which meant putting their arms around each other a lot, not to mention kissing and nuzzling in public whenever possible. The more sickening the display, the better. The only physical contact she’d had with Tony was limited to handshakes and the one time she’d hugged him after the divorce decree was handed down. Yet she couldn’t imagine how they’d practice such a thing, so they’d have to hope they looked natural doing something they’d never done with each other before.

And then there was the matter of sharing a cottage with one king-size bed in it. She hadn’t figured out how they’d handle the sleeping arrangements, and she’d been too chicken to bring up the subject when she’d discussed the plans with Tony. Maybe there was a couch. Or they could put a rolled blanket down the center of the bed, the way her mother used to divide up the space when her cousin Sherilee had come to spend the night. But Tony wasn’t exactly Sherilee.

No, he certainly wasn’t. She spotted him strolling down the terminal, an insolent smile on his face. His white T-shirt molded itself lovingly to his muscled chest, and the fit of his jeans was almost indecent. His hair hung rakishly over his forehead, and even his walk was different. Lynn swallowed. Dear Lord, what had she let herself in for? He wasn’t even Tony anymore.

When he reached her, he dropped his duffel bag to the floor and swept her into his arms. “Hey, baby,” he said in a low voice. Then he kissed her, hard.

Nearby, somebody whistled in admiration.

At first, Lynn was too shocked to react, and too fascinated by the feel of Tony’s lips on hers. Finally, she gained enough command of herself to try shoving him away. He didn’t shove very easily.

“Where are you going, sweet thing?” he asked, holding her fast as he gave her a lazy smile. “Aren’t you glad to see your lover boy?”

Her heart hammered as she saw the light of desire in his dark eyes. She had to remind herself he was playing a role. “Tony, let go of me. You’re carrying this a bit far. We don’t have to start our act just yet.”

He rubbed her back, and his hand crept lower, to cup her behind. “Don’t you think we need to warm up to it, baby doll?”

Damned if he wasn’t turning her on with this macho-stud routine. Aware of several people staring, she spoke through clenched teeth. “Not in the middle of the airport, we don’t.”

He gave her a wink and a gentle pinch on the bottom. “If you say so, sweetcakes.”

She stepped away from him, her cheeks hot. “Honestly, Tony.”

He grinned at her, looking a little more like his normal self. “I thought before we climbed on this bird you might appreciate a sneak preview, in case you wanted to back out of the deal.”

She adjusted her clothes. “Um, I…no, I don’t want to back out. I just wasn’t expecting…” Damn, she was stammering like a high-school kid with a crush. Unable to take her gaze from him, she grasped for something sensible to talk about. “Where did you get those clothes? They don’t look new.”

“From the back of my closet.”

“You used to wear stuff like that?”

“Sure. All the time.” He tucked the pack of cigarettes more securely in the roll of his T-shirt sleeve. Beneath it, his biceps flexed, drawing attention to the dragon tattooed there.

She stared at that rippling dragon. That’s right, he’d said he had a tattoo, and there it was, real as could be. Forcing her gaze back to his face, she cleared her throat. “Tony, are you telling me that you used to be—”

“The guy your mother warned you about. Yup. Drove too fast, drank too much, tried my best to reduce the population of vir—”

“Spare me the details of your conquests.”

“Not conquests,” he said softly. “I wasn’t a predator, Lynn. I never took what wasn’t offered.”

No doubt the offers were plentiful, she thought. At seventeen she wouldn’t have dared hook up with a guy like this…yet how she’d wanted to. Her teenage sexual fantasies had been filled with tight jeans, motorcycles and muscle. And now she had to wonder if this escapade had been partly born of those unsatisfied fantasies. If so, she could be in a lot of trouble, because Tony had turned out to be the real thing.

She took a deep breath. “I had no idea you had that kind of background. I assumed, with your degree from Harvard, that you’d been a…”

“Nerd?” He laughed. “I’ve worked hard turning myself into a nerd in the past fourteen years, so maybe I’ve succeeded. Hey, I think they just called our flight.”

“They did?” She hadn’t heard a thing. Apparently, one of the jets could have plowed nose first into the terminal and she wouldn’t have noticed that, either. She needed to snap out of it, and fast. “Then I guess we’d better go.”

He gestured toward the jetway. “I’ll follow you.” His gaze became hooded and suggestive. “I sure do enjoy walking behind a chick with a tight…schedule.”

“Tony Russo!”

He winked at her. “Get used to it, Lynn. You’re supposed to be loving comments like that, remember? Looks like I’ll have to coach the witness on the plane ride.” He gave her a shallow bow. “After you.”