Asking for Trouble (26 page)

He didn’t close his eyes, because he was watching her. He
let her talk, but when she stopped moving again, because she was too close,
because she needed to focus on herself, he reached for her hips and refused to
allow it. She was on top of him, but he took control, held her and moved her
over him, again and again, harder and harder, until she was over the top, crying
out loud with the pleasure of it, and he was emptying into her, all the pain
and all the emotion of the night resolved into this, and it was so good.

She cleaned him up, afterwards, and he lay there and sighed,
a deep, heartfelt thing that told her everything he hadn’t said. That she’d
done it right. That she’d helped.

When she was curled up against him again under the warm
covers, her hand on his chest, she finally voiced the worry that had been on
her mind ever since she’d heard Cheryl’s story.

“When we had our fight last night,” she told him. “When I .
. . pushed you. I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have said what I did if I’d known
what happened to you and Cheryl. What you did to me, it’s not the same thing. I
want you to know, I get that it’s not the same thing.”

He smiled a little, his eyes still closed. She could see it,
because she hadn’t blown out the candles yet, because she loved looking at him
like this. “You mean when you teased me so hard you got spanked for it?”

“Yes,” she said, the thrill running through her again,
despite everything that had happened that night, despite all the pleasure she’d
just felt. “I wanted you to do it. I liked it. I want to make sure you know
that.”

He opened his eyes, turned his head and smiled at her, ran
his hand over her hip, and then over the curve of her bottom, and his big hand
felt so good there, she knew why he’d enjoyed it so much when she’d done it to
him.

“I figured that out,” he said. “I wasn’t sure about doing it
at first, because I didn’t want to hurt you, but if it had really bothered me,
I wouldn’t have done it. You didn’t want me to hurt you, though. You just
wanted to be controlled.”

“Mmm.” She stroked his chest, his shoulder, down his arm,
just for the feeling of it, the bulk of muscle, the heat of his skin. “I wanted
you to be dangerous, and I knew I could push you to be, because I knew I’d be
safe.”

“That’s why I could do it,” he said. “I know that you like
me to be strong. I get that you want to be overpowered sometimes. And that’s
all right, because I enjoy overpowering you.”

She levered herself up on an elbow, blew out the candle on
her side, then leaned across him and blew out his, knowing he was watching her
do it, and how much he liked watching, then settled down with him again.

“You’re right,” she told him in the darkness. “I do like it
when you overpower me. No, I
love
it
when you overpower me. And every once in a while, like tonight . . . I want to overpower
you, too.”

 
“Wow,” Alyssa
said a couple Saturdays later when she opened the door to Joe. “Who knew?”

“Wow yourself,” he said, taking a long look at the deep blue
sleeveless cocktail dress with its high beaded collar, the tall black heels.

“You think?” She preened a bit under his scrutiny. She loved
knowing that he liked how she looked. “Relic of paychecks past. Plus, it
matches my eyes, did you notice?”

“No, I didn’t notice. I just noticed,” he said, leaning in
and saying it low, in her ear, since Sherry was watching with interest from the
living-room couch, “that I love it when you wear those collared things. Gives
me bad ideas.”

“Hey, Joe,” Sherry said pointedly. “How are you?”

He smiled at her. “Hey, Sherry. How you doing?”

“Well,” she sighed, “I’d be better if some guy would show up
in a tuxedo and take me out, but meh, whatever.”

Alyssa laughed. “It’s a work event,” she reminded Sherry. “A
major
work event. Don’t let me drink
any wine,” she told Joe, “because if I do, it’s guaranteed that something will
go wrong, and I’ll be all drunk and not be able to figure out how to deal with
it. I’ve got so many lists, it’s crazy. I dreamed last night that I was at the
party, and I realized that I’d forgotten to order any food, and I couldn’t
remember anybody’s name. I’ve been studying pictures of major donors all week.
I just hope nobody’s gone bald or gained fifty pounds or anything, because I’ll
be sunk.”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I don’t care how major he is, he’s
not going to care whether you got his name right once he gets a look at you in
that dress.”

“Yeah, well.” She gave a toss to her carefully tousled hair.
“What if it’s a woman?”

“Then,” he conceded, “you could have a problem. Better
remember the names.”

“It’s not actually too sexy, is it?” she asked, because
she’d worried about that, too. “I was going for a little bit conservative. I
have a red one that’s killer, but I thought, probably not.”

“No,” he said. “Probably not. And you can’t help it if
you’re . . . what’s the word?”

“Curvy,” she said, and smiled at him happily, feeling so
much better already. “Rather than pudgy.”

“Curvy,” he agreed, and smiled back. “Not the least bit
pudgy.”

Sherry groaned. “Would you two please leave? You’re making
me sick.”

“Just a sec.” Alyssa grabbed for her clutch purse on the
coffee table, the one with her folded-up lists inside. “Soon as we make Joe
turn around and model his tuxedo for us.”

“You have to be kidding,” he said.

“Nope.” She made the gesture with her fingers. “Twirl.”

He sighed, but held his arms out from his sides and made an
obliging circle. “Happy?” he asked her, although she could tell he really
didn’t mind.

“You didn’t rent that,” she told him. “Selix Formalwear does
not have that size.” Because it fit his shoulders perfectly, and his waist,
too, and nothing off the rack could have possibly done that.
 

“Well, no,” he conceded. “It’s mine.”

“You have a tuxedo.”

“Yeah. For when I need it. And we could either stand around
and admire each other,” he pointed out, “or we could leave and get this over
with.”

Admiring him, unfortunately, turned out to be the high point
of the evening. Alyssa had had to arrive early and check in with the catering
staff, to double-check the setup against her carefully prepared list, and then
to stand near the welcome table and help greet the guests. Helene took her time
showing up, and she hadn’t done any of the organization for the event, either.
That had been all on Alyssa, and it wasn’t her best thing, and she knew it,
though she thought she’d done a reasonable job. She was learning.

It all went along smoothly enough at first, to her immense
relief. She
did
remember names, and
she smiled and chatted and tried not to think about whether Joe was having a
good time, because she was pretty sure that he wasn’t, at least not until Alec
and Rae showed up, because that made everything a whole lot better.

Her brother, now, she thought with pride as he said a
discreet hello—he was another man who
looked good in a tuxedo. And Helene, who’d been doing her own mingling,
clearly thought so too.

“What a pleasure,” she said, shaking Alec’s hand and then
reaching for Rae’s with only the barest decrease in graciousness. “I’m so glad
the two of you could make it. I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve
done for Second Chance.”

Alec made some noncommittal answer, and Helene continued.
“Do you know, Alyssa here, my assistant, has the same last name you do? It’s
almost like it was meant to be, isn’t it? Isn’t it a small world?”

“Very small,” Alec said, his gaze darting to Alyssa, and she
knew he’d caught it, too.
My assistant.
She
wasn’t Helene’s assistant. She was the Assistant Director of Development, and
there was a difference.

 
Alec and Rae
moved off, and Helene went with them, and Alyssa stayed in her spot near the
door until the guests had finished arriving and it was time for the speeches,
and then she went and found Joe.

“How you doing?” he asked, his voice low as Dr. Marsh spoke
into the microphone at one end of the room, welcoming the guests.

“My feet are killing me,” she muttered back, kept the smile
on her face and applauded at Dr. Marsh’s introduction of Helene.

Helene walked to the microphone, her smile infectious, her
enthusiasm contagious, and Alyssa felt the power of her presence. She could
turn on charisma like Alec, and when she was in the room, you
noticed.

“When I was a little girl in Memphis,” she began, “I used to
dream about being at a party like this. I used to imagine I was Cinderella,
because I felt just like her. The cinders part, I mean,” she said with a smile,
“not so much the ball.”

A ripple of laughter greeted that one. “On nights like tonight,
I feel like Cinderella
at
the ball,”
Helene went on, “and I look back at that little girl I was, and wish I could
tell her what her future was going to look like. I wish I could give her hope.
And all of those foster children out there tonight, how many of them are
feeling just as hopeless? How many of them are dreaming of standing up here
like me thirty-five years from now, and worrying that they’ll be on the street
instead? We all know which of those scenarios is more likely. That’s why we’re
here, that’s why all of you do this, and why I do it, too. I thank each and
every one of you for what you’ve done, what you continue to do. I’m here to tell
you what a difference programs like the ones you help to fund made for me, when
I was that little girl. When I was that young woman, wondering if I’d make it,
and so afraid that I wouldn’t.”

Alyssa looked around the room as Helene continued to speak.
She had the attention of the crowd, not just their polite interest.

“Children like the little girl I was,” Helene went on,
“children who not only don’t have the things every child should be able to
count on—parents to care for them, a home that’s a safe, loving place, a
stable environment in which to learn, and, above all, the security of knowing,
of never questioning that their homes will go on being safe, secure, loving
places—those children have nothing, not even a voice. They’re silent, and
they’re silenced. They are truly powerless. The CASA program, the
court-appointed special advocates who are such an important part of the network
of caring you help to support, give them that voice. They’re the only power
those children have. They speak for children who can’t speak for themselves.
And that’s the program you’re helping to fund by your presence here tonight.”

She paused, looked down for a moment, seemed to gather her
thoughts. Then looked up again, out at her audience, her voice quiet and
sincere. “I know I wouldn’t have made it without my CASA volunteer. I wouldn’t
have made it without the scholarship that meant I could go to college, or even
without the cards that came for Christmas and my birthday from an organization
just like this one, the cards that told me I wasn’t alone. A phone call to
check in with me, somebody to talk to about how college was going, about what
kind of plans I had for Christmas, about how I would spend the summer . . .
those things were the difference between success and failure for me. Those
things are the reason I’m here talking to you tonight, and they’re the reason
that there’s a little boy, a little girl somewhere right here in California
who’ll be standing here thirty years from now just like I’m standing here
tonight, saying the very same kinds of things I’m saying now. She’ll be here,
he’ll be here because somebody like you cared enough to help. Because somebody
like you listened.

“So thank you,” she said. “Thank you from the bottom of the
heart of the little girl I was, and from the woman I am today. Thank you for
caring. Thank you for helping. Thank you for all you do. You’ll never know the
extent of the difference you’ve made, but I’m here to tell you tonight, it’s
there, and it’s real.”

She finished, and genuine applause broke out. Alyssa saw a
few beringed hands move up to wipe away tears, and she had to concede that,
even if Helene wasn’t exactly a roll-up-your-sleeves kind of boss, the woman
could
talk.
Alyssa was applauding
herself, and not just out of politeness.

Joe wasn’t, though. He was frowning, and Alyssa felt a pang
of unease. “You OK?” she asked him in a low tone. “Too much to hear?”

“What?” He looked at her, his expression abstracted. “No.
Never mind.”

Helene made a circuit of the room after the speeches,
shaking hands, smiling and talking, and eventually ended up near Alyssa and Joe.
Alyssa introduced Joe, saw Helene smile at him, a slow, assessing thing with
heat to spare, and found herself stifling a flare of possessive rage that made
her understand how Joe had felt that night in the Boom Boom Room, watching her
dance. And Helene hadn’t done anything more than shake Joe’s hand.

“That was a wonderful speech,” she said to Helene,
determined to keep this professional, to keep her cool.

“Thank you,” Helene said. “Can I tell you the truth?” She
laughed a little. “I always get nervous. What did you think?” she asked Joe. “Did
you think it was effective?”

“It was fine,” he said, and if he’d had an ‘I’m Not
Impressed’ sign around his neck, it couldn’t have been much clearer.

“Fine?” Helene asked, still smiling, her head on one side.

“I’m not big on speeches,” he said. “And I didn’t realize CASA
had a program in Memphis thirty-five years ago.”

She looked a bit surprised. “Yes, it was early days. A pilot
program.”

“Lucky for you,” he said. “A college scholarship, too.”

“Lucky is right,” she said, “and believe me, I know it.
That’s why I do this job. That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? It’s about
leaving things a little better than you found them, and giving back, when
you’ve been given so much. That’s what I appreciate about all the people here
tonight. They could be donating to the opera or the ballet. I know their
parties are better. Though I thought things ran pretty well tonight, Alyssa,”
she added, “considering it’s your first event. Only a few little glitches.”

Alyssa bit her tongue. How could Helene give a compliment
that felt so little like one?

“And what do you do, Joe?” Helene went on. “Do you work here
in the City?”

“Yeah,” he said. “In tech.”

“Really,” she said with an arch of an eyebrow. “Well, isn’t
that fortunate? Is that where the inspiration for Alyssa’s little field day
idea came from? I’m sure she appreciated your help. Coaching’s always welcome,
I know, when you’re starting out.”

“No. That wasn’t my idea. It was all hers. And I don’t think
Alyssa needs my coaching.”

Helene smiled again. “Oh, I’m guessing she’s happy to have
your advice. We can all use a little boost at the beginning. I know you’re not
happy that you haven’t quite been able to meet your goals,” she told Alyssa.
“But it’ll come, if you just keep trying. Not everybody is a natural at this.
For some people, it’s just a matter of persistence.”

Alyssa opened her mouth, then shut it again. How did she
answer that? And who—
who—
would
belittle somebody’s performance at a work function, in front of a friend? In
front of a
boyfriend?
Because Helene
had to have figured that out. Alyssa knew by now that her boss didn’t miss a
trick.

“If Alyssa isn’t interested, I am. I’d love to pick your
brain,” Helene moved a step closer, put her manicured hand, with its long red
fingernails—its talons—on Joe’s black-suited arm. “I can always use
some fresh ideas,” she said, and Alyssa fought the urge to hiss.

Joe was looking more wooden than ever. He took Alyssa’s
hand, forcing Helene’s to slide from his sleeve. “I’m happy to share my ideas,”
he said. “With Alyssa. If she asks me for them.”

Helene recovered fast. “Well,” she said with another laugh,
“I’m sure she’s grateful.”

Joe nodded. “Excuse me.” He turned, pulling Alyssa along
with him, and made for the bar.

 
“Joe,” she said,
“that was almost . . . rude.”

“Was it?”

“You know it was.”

“Tough,” he said. “I didn’t like her.”

She got a little satisfaction from that, because the truth
was, she didn’t like Helene that much either. She
didn’t.
She’d tried not to face it, but it was true. “She gave a
good speech, though.”

“Effective,” he said, but then Dr. Marsh was there, and
Alyssa smiled automatically.

“Alyssa,” the Director said expansively, his face pink with
pleasure at the success of the evening. “This is a triumph for you. I know how
much planning goes into this event, and it’s your first one. And here we are,
everything going so smoothly, and about the best speech I’ve ever heard. Aren’t
we lucky to have Helene on board? I thought losing Suzanne was a blow, but we
haven’t missed a beat.”