Black Ties and Lullabyes (25 page)

But now it was time for him to get on with things, just as she was. He’d been so distracted these past few weeks that he’d let things slide at work, and he needed to get back on track. Nose to the grindstone.

Pedal to the metal. Now, final y, he’d be able to put Bernie out of his mind and concentrate on the hundred things he needed to do that required his undivided attention.

But wait a minute. She was packing to go home this afternoon. Even though she was off bed rest, should she be lugging a suitcase al over creation?

He hadn’t thought about that. And she didn’t have her car at his place, which meant she’d need a ride back to her apartment. He hadn’t thought about that, either.

Yeah, Carlos could take her, but if Jeremy rode along, he could see her face when she saw her newly renovated apartment for the first time.

He thought about his schedule at work. It was tight, but he could certainly head home a little early to help get her squared away. After al , he was the boss, wasn’t he?

Then
he’d put his nose to the grindstone.

Bernie asked Carlos to drive her to a nearby drugstore so she could pick up a few things, but she’d underestimated how dumb she’d feel taking a limousine to Walgreens. As soon as they drove into the parking lot, people’s heads turned, and a few even stopped to watch her get out of the car. Al she could do was ignore their curious stares and walk inside as if she traveled in luxury every day of the week.

She headed toward the aisles to grab shampoo and razor blades. On the way there, she passed a display of perfume. There wasn’t anything much more girly than perfume, and any other time she might have walked right by it. But this time, for some reason, she slowed down, then stopped, letting her gaze travel from one bottle to another.

Some of them were shiny and sparkly. Some were curvy and pink with flowers al over them. They al had names that were either in French, and therefore unpronounceable, or something like Beautiful or Lovely or Radiance.

Dumb
, she thought.
Not my thing.

But for some reason, she glanced over her shoulder to see if anybody else was around, and when she saw she was alone, she tentatively picked up one of the tester bottles. She sniffed the squirter thingy and just about gagged. It was if she’d fal en face-first into a Rose Bowl Parade float.

She tried a few more. Same story.

Then she saw one that said something about sandalwood and jasmine, the scents of the Orient.

She sniffed it. Okay, this one had promise. Low-key.

Mysterious. Nonflowery.

She checked the area again for witnesses. When she didn’t see any, she held out her wrist. Pushed the plunger.

Nothing came out.

She tried again, harder this time.

Stil nothing.

She pushed it one more time, harder stil , and the bottle suddenly spewed approximately half a gal on of perfume onto her wrist. Horrified, she set the bottle down and held her wrist out, shaking it, but al that did was make a few droplets fal from her arm to the floor, and her wrist was stil wet with perfume. She rubbed her wrists together, hoping if she spread it around a little, it would dissipate faster, then brought her wrists to her nose.

Oh, God.
She smel ed like a Hong Kong whorehouse.

Without thinking, she wiped her wrists on her jeans, only to realize that it wouldn’t obliterate the scent. It would just move it to another part of her body.

Abandoning the perfume display, she hurried to grab the shampoo and razor blades she’d needed in the first place and went to the checkout counter. The crinkling of the clerk’s nose told the tale. Bernie stil smel ed as if she’d taken a dive into a vat of perfume.

She hurried out of the store and got back into the limousine. It took only about five seconds for Carlos to look into the rearview mirror, his nose crinkling with even more disgust than the clerk had shown.

“What the hel is that
smell
?” he said, with his usual display of tact.

“Never mind,” Bernie snapped.

“Is that perfume?”

“It was an
accident
.”

“
Whew
. If that was an accident, I think I’d be suing Walgreens.”

“Just drive, wil you?”

“Where to?”

Bernie gave him the address of her mother’s house. As he punched it into the GPS, she sat back with her fingertips to her temples, trying to ward off the headache she was getting from smel ing herself.

Note to self:
No girly stuff ever again as long as
you live.

Carlos pul ed out of the parking lot. After a minute, Bernie spied a McDonald’s and told him to stop, only to realize that if a limo looked dumb at a Walgreen’s, it looked positively ridiculous at a McDonald’s. She ran the gauntlet of curious stares and headed inside to the ladies’ room, where she washed her wrists, which helped with the overal stench. Some of the perfume stil clung to her jeans, but at least she’d no longer make birds fal dead out of the trees just by walking past.

A few minutes later, they arrived at her mother’s house. Bernie knocked on the door, and her mother swept it open with a worried frown.

“Bernadette? Why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”

“Good news,” she said. “I went for an ultrasound today, and everything’s back to normal. I’m off bed rest. Ful speed ahead.”

“Oh, I’m so glad!” Eleanor said. “I just knew everything was going to be okay.” Then as Bernie walked past her into the house, her eyes grew wide with surprise. “Bernadette? Are you wearing…

perfume?”

Give up. Right off the bat. Don’t even try to
explain.
“Yeah, Mom. I’m wearing perfume.”

“Wel , it’s a lovely scent,” she said with a beaming smile, though how her mother could smel the Eau de Cheap Hooker over her Glade “Always Spring” air freshener, Bernie didn’t know. “Now, see? Doesn’t just a little dab behind your ears make you feel pretty?”

Behind her ears? How about smeared up and down her thighs? At least now that she’d washed it off her wrists, the scent had faded to a preasphyxiation level.

A few minutes later, she was sitting at her mother’s kitchen table eating a chocolate chip muffin and drinking a cup of oolong tea. She’d chosen an Asian variety of tea because, of course, she’d didn’t want what was going
in
her to clash with what was already
on
her.

“I don’t see Bil y around,” Bernie said offhandedly.

“He moved out,” Eleanor said.

“Oh, real y?” Bernie said, feigning surprise. “What made him do that?”

“He found another place to live. And even better, he has a job. Your Jeremy hired him.”

“
My
Jeremy?”

“He gave him a job at his office complex doing landscaping work. Isn’t that nice?”

“Yeah. It is.”

“And he was so generous to give me access to a car and driver. It helps me out so much, and he seemed genuinely happy to do it.”

“Yeah, that was nice of him, too. But now that I’m on my feet again, I can take you wherever you need to go.”

“Oh, no. Jeremy told me he intends for me to use the car and driver at least throughout your pregnancy.

That way if you’re not feeling wel , or there’s some other reason you have to stay off your feet, you won’t have to worry about me.” Eleanor smiled. “He’s such a lovely man, Bernadette. You’re so lucky to have him.”

A queasy little feeling of apprehension slid through Bernie’s stomach, because the truth was that she didn’t have him. Wanted him, yes. She’d be a fool to keep denying it. But Jeremy Bridges had never been a one-woman man, and she knew he had no intention of ever becoming one. And now her mother had fal en under the charming spel he was so adept at weaving, leading her to believe that her daughter was Cinderel a and her Prince had come.

“Mom, I don’t think you understand,” Bernie said.

“There’s stil nothing between us. Not like you think.

He’s just not the kind of man who wants an ordinary family life. Do you know what I mean?”

“I think you’re the one who doesn’t understand,” Eleanor said with a knowing smile. “That man cares for you more than you realize.”

Maybe. But caring and loving were two entirely different things.

“So now that you’re off bed rest, wil you be going back to your apartment?” her mother asked.

“Yes. Of course. This afternoon, after I run al my errands.”

Eleanor frowned. “Oh. I hoped you’d be staying with Jeremy.”

“Come on, Mom. You know he was just helping me out until I was back on my feet.”

“I know that’s what you said. But I had hoped maybe

—”

“He’s going to be there for the babies,” Bernie said.

“I know he is. But he’d also make a wonderful husband.”

Bernie sighed with resignation. “You’re not going to let go of this, are you?”

Eleanor gave her a smal , knowing smile. “God hasn’t stopped hearing from me about it yet.” Bernie decided there was no point in fighting it any longer. If her mother wanted to continue to petition God, so be it. She only hoped her mother wouldn’t be too disappointed when God final y answered her, and the answer was no.

“Does Jeremy like your perfume?” Eleanor asked.

“He hasn’t smel ed it.”
And he’s never going to.

Her mother smiled sweetly. “Always remember that no man can ever resist a woman wearing a pretty perfume.”

Bernie sighed inwardly. She’d always been the kind of woman who was pretty darned easy for a man to resist, and a dab or two of perfume was never going to change that.

She ran a few more errands. It was nearly four o’clock before Carlos dropped her back at Jeremy’s house. She headed into the kitchen and trotted up the stairs to the guest suite. Once inside it, she stopped for a moment to admire the place one last time. She’d told Jeremy the truth. She’d be forever spoiled after sleeping in this beautiful king-sized four-poster bed.

And her thirty-two-inch TV was going to look positively pitiful after staring at the gigantic one over the fireplace for the past couple of weeks. And the Jacuzzi tub. There was nothing on earth to relax a person like one of those. And the balcony overlooking the property…

She sighed. It was al just too, too beautiful. But this was Jeremy’s life, not hers. It was time she got back to her own reality: a nine-hundred-square-foot apartment with a postage-stamp-sized kitchen and a tiny bathtub whose only talent was holding water.

She flipped on the ridiculously expensive sound system and stuck in a CD, reveling one last time in music as it real y should be heard. She hummed along with the melody as she pul ed her suitcase out of the closet and opened it. She packed her jeans and shirts and pajama pants.

Then she saw the emerald green gowns and robe her mother had insisted on packing for her.

Oh, just leave them there. It’s not as if you’ll ever
be wearing them.

She left the closet and started to shut the door, only to turn around to look at the gowns again. After a moment, she walked over and stared at them, then reached out to touch one. She ran her hand along the silky fabric. It felt absolutely decadent. She didn’t know where her mother had gotten them, but they hadn’t been cheap. Bernie might be a little out of place in this house, but these gowns certainly weren’t.

On impulse, she pul ed one off the rod, went back to the bedroom, and stood in front of the ful -length mirror. She held up the gown in front of her and imagined for a moment she was wearing it. The fabric draped beautiful y, and it would feel positively sinful against her bare skin.

She turned left and right.
Hmm.
Maybe it would be nice to wear a gown like this after al . Even if she looked funny in it, at least she could close her eyes and
feel
wonderful.

“Don’t just hold it up. Try it on.”

Startled, Bernie spun around, horrified to find Jeremy standing behind her. She yanked the gown away from herself at the same time she felt a hot flush rise on her cheeks.

“What are you doing here?” she said.

“I came up to see if you need some help with your suitcases. Didn’t know I’d be interrupting a fashion show.”

“You could have knocked.”

“I did. I guess you didn’t hear me over the music.” He tilted his head. “The color’s perfect for you. Let’s see what it looks like on.”

“Get real. I’m not putting it on.”

“Where did you get it?”

“My mother. She has different taste in nightclothes than I do.”

“Sorry. I’m going to have to side with your mother.

Though your blue terrycloth robe is lovely, too.”

“Wil you shut
up
?”

Bernie tried to brush past him, but he grabbed her by the arm.

“Wait,” he said. “What’s this I smel ?”

“Smel ?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Perfume?”

Oh,
God.
Not that, too. “I don’t wear perfume.”

“No, it’s definitely perfume.”

She sighed. “It was a tester at the drugstore. I was just… you know. Goofing around.”

He dipped his head to smel her neck, then pul ed back, looking confused. “So where are you wearing it?”

“Never mind.” She turned to walk away, but he caught her arm again and pul ed her back around. He sniffed the air a few more times. Then he looked down.

She rol ed her eyes. “Some got on my jeans, okay?”

“On your jeans?” he said. “How did that happen?”

“If

you

must

know,

the

squirter

thingy

malfunctioned.”

“A perfume malfunction. Never heard of one of those.”

“Wel , now you have.”

“Might want to wear some perfume for real.”

“No, thanks.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t do the girly thing.” He smiled. “Silk gown… perfume… sure you do.”

“Wrong,” she said, sticking the gown back into the closet. “Those things just aren’t me.”

“Were they ever you? What were you like in high school? Did you date?”

This conversation was real y beginning to irritate her. “Let’s put it this way. Boys didn’t exactly hang out around my locker, waiting to ask me out.”

“Why not?”

She went to the dresser. “They were too busy chasing the ones who spent al their time reading
Glamour
and
Cosmo
and painting their toenails.”

“But you weren’t interested in those things?”

“Nope. But God, how my mother tried to get me to be. Turn around. I’m packing my underwear.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Jeremy said. “It’s not as if I haven’t seen women’s underwear before.” Yes, but had he seen utilitarian white cotton underwear? She doubted that very much. “Turn
around
.”

With a rol of his eyes, he slowly turned around and kept his back to her until she had transferred her undies from the drawer to the suitcase.

“Do you know she bought me a pink angora sweater for my thirteenth birthday?”

“Yeah?” Jeremy said, facing her again. “What did you do with it?”

“Wore it to a family dinner. Then I stuffed it into the back of my closet and prayed she’d forget about it.”

“Maybe it was just the wrong color. Do they make those in camouflage?”

Bernie sighed. “I am
so
not the daughter she wanted.”