Authors: Susan Lyons
Perhaps the erotic escapade had run its course.
Suzanne didn’t sleep more than an hour or two that night. She rose feeling exhausted, and still not sure what to do about Jaxon. The tiger lily in the vase by her bed was wilting, and perhaps that was a sign. Thank heavens she loved her job. The moment she opened the clinic door, her spirits lifted. She greeted the first clients, a lugubrious-looking basset hound and his perky blond owner—
no, pets and their humans didn’t always look alike—and ushered them into an examining room. Now she was in her element, each caress of a furry, silky or bristly coat sending a healing warmth to her troubled heart. It wasn’t until she headed out to pick up a sandwich at lunchtime that her mind returned to Jaxon. Was she ready to give up great sex? Yes, for sure, if he was married. But if he was almost divorced . . . She took out her cell and dialed Ann. “I know you’re busy, sorry to interrupt, but I’m obsessing over what to do. Maybe I should just break it off?”
“Have you found out any more information?”
“No, but maybe there’s no point. It’s getting too complicated.”
Ann sighed. “I’m not saying you should keep on with this but, Suze, if you don’t get the facts you’ll always regret it. Gather data, analyze it, then decide what you want to do.”
“You see things so clearly.”
“Don’t I wish! And it’s way easier when it’s someone else’s life.”
Get the facts. Her friend was right. The bottom line was, it wasn’t right to judge someone when you didn’t have the facts. She might not be a lawyer like Ann and Jaxon, but she did have a strong set of values. “Thanks, Ann. Facts it’ll be.” Suzanne hung up, feeling better.
Until she tried to figure out how to gather those facts. To ask would break the Rules—besides, how would she know his answer was the truth?
Inside the sandwich shop, she stood in line, trying to decide what she wanted. When it was her turn, she stared at the containers of sandwich fillings. “Tuna. No, egg.”
The moment the server, a bored-looking Asian girl, began to scoop out the egg-mayo mixture, Suzanne wished she’d stuck with tuna.
“Sprouts or lettuce?” the server asked.
God, her brain was nonfunctional today. “You choose.”
The girl raised a pierced eyebrow, heaved an exaggerated sigh, then scooped out a pile of sprouts and slapped them on top of the egg filling.
Paying for the sandwich she didn’t want, Suzanne realized it was time to call another friend and draw on her expertise. Outside, she dialed Jenny. “Help! You know how to gather information.”
“Tonya? I did check her name. It wasn’t in the San Francisco phone book, and I didn’t get any hits when I Googled it.”
“How can I find out his marital status?”
“I’m guessing there must be some kind of public records on the internet you could search. Likely for a fee. I thought of doing it myself, but figured that would make you even more pissed off. Anyhow, isn’t it easier to just phone his number and ask for Tonya Navarre?”
Duh, how obvious. But . . . “I can’t, Jaxon might answer.”
“So hang up. And of course you’d have to block the call.”
“Block it?”
“So he wouldn’t know where it originated.” Jenny groaned.
“You don’t have a clue, do you? Okay, I’ll do it. That way, if he answers, he won’t recognize my voice and I can ask for Tonya Navarre.”
“I owe you.”
“Yeah. Big time, babe.”
Suzanne heaved a sigh of relief. The matter was out of her hands, and she could relax a bit. At least until she heard back from Jenny.
Which she didn’t, all afternoon.
After work, she went out with a couple of friends from vet school. They got together every two or three weeks for dinner and to chat. Mohinder was stuck working in his father’s grocery store this summer. Tiff had at least scored a job working with animals, but it was with a pet grooming service. Both were deeply envious of Suzanne’s job at the clinic. With some reluctance, she turned her cell phone off and tried to concentrate on the conversation. But the moment she’d parted from her friends and was walking to her van, she clicked her phone on. No messages, and it was after ten. She dialed Jenny.
“You’ve been wining and dining with your buds,” her friend groused, “and I’ve been working up a hefty callous from hitting redial every hour. No one’s answering. I can’t keep doing this all night, Suzie Q.”
“No, of course not,” she muttered. Damn. Why wasn’t someone home at ten on a Thursday? “Sorry, Jen. Thanks for trying.”
“I have a breakfast interview tomorrow at seven. I’ll try again when I get up. Someone’s bound to be there at the crack of dawn.”
In the moments when he wasn’t working flat out, Jax had just one thought on his mind.
Phone sex.
After he and Suzanne had played cyber sex the other night, it had dawned on him they could have picked up their phones instead. He’d rather listen to her voice than read words on a screen.
She had a terrific voice. A little low, a little husky. Very, very sexy.
When they’d had sex the past weekend, they hadn’t actually said much during the act itself. Some panting and moaning, but they’d always been in a relatively public place so they’d had to keep quiet.
He’d never heard her voice talking dirty to him. Man, just the idea was a turn-on.
It was late Thursday night when he got home from work. Unlocking the door to the apartment building, he wondered if either of his roommates would be in. Both kept late hours like him—Levi with work and his girlfriend, Rachel; Tod with the gay bar and party scene. Be nice if they were out; he liked having the place to himself. Especially if he was going to keep thinking about phone sex. He took the stairs, for exercise.
Better to focus on phone sex, though, than the disturbing question that kept popping into his mind. What had Suzanne been doing awake at two in the morning?
Was she really a night owl? Or had she just come home from a hot and heavy date?
Would she have sex with two men in the same night, one in real life and one via e-mail?
God, she was Suzanne, she’d do anything. Wasn’t that what made her so irresistible?
It was crazy to feel jealous.
He was so damned conventional. His brain had a hell of a problem coming to grips with the fact that this
thing
with him and Suzanne didn’t follow any of the traditional rules. It was governed by its own, very untraditional, Champagne Rules. And they included nothing about fidelity. He really was a fucking caveman, if he needed to think of Suzanne as
his woman
.
He unlocked the apartment door and stepped inside, muttering, “Get over it.”
“Over what?” Levi asked. He was sitting on the couch, notebook computer and beer can in front of him, TV tuned to one of those nature shows he liked.
“A girl. What else?”
“Tod could answer that better than me.” Levi snickered. “In fact, he’s in his bedroom right now with someone who definitely isn’t a girl.”
“Oh fuck.”
“Yeah, that’s what they’re doing. That’s why I have the TV
on. I’m happier when I can’t be sure if it’s lions roaring or Tod and his latest conquest.”
“How long have they been at it?”
“Dunno. I came home about an hour ago, the phone was ringing but I didn’t get to it in time and Tod definitely wasn’t answering. There were sounds coming from his room that I didn’t want to hear.”
Oh yeah, there were disadvantages to sharing an apartment. But rent downtown was horrendous. No way could he afford his mom’s mortgage plus a place of his own. And, working the hours he did, he needed an apartment close to the office. Jax grabbed a beer and went into his room, glad it neighbored quiet Levi’s rather than noisy Tod’s.
He knew Suzanne’s surname. He could likely look up her phone number, but that was kind of intrusive. Better that he e-mail and suggest phone sex. Then, if she was into it, they could exchange numbers. He’d have to use his cell; the apartment phone was shared by all three of them.
Okay, how to phrase this, so he’d sound sexy without being crude. Hey, Suzanne, just got home and I’m thinking about that sexy voice of yours. You know something? We’ve never talked dirty to each other. Want to give it a try, over the phone?
After clicking SEND, he began taking off his suit, wondering if by any chance Suzanne was at her computer too, and would send a reply. Sometimes they had uncanny timing. In the front room, the phone rang and he heard Levi answer it. He couldn’t catch what he said, but in a moment Levi knocked softly on his door. “Jax?”
It was for him? It was really late; besides, everyone who knew him called the office or his cell. Suzanne? Had she gotten his e-mail, and called directory assistance for his number?
He rushed to the door and opened it. “That for me?”
“Sort of. Some woman asking for Tonya Navarre.”
They exchanged puzzled looks.
“She hasn’t gone by Navarre since we were divorced,” Jax said.
“And she’s never had this phone number. So, I said she’d remarried, was Tonya Keeler now. Said I didn’t know her number but I could get it from you. The woman’s still on the line.”
“I’m not sure I should give Tonya’s number to a stranger.”
“Yeah, you’re right, I wasn’t thinking.” Levi looked chagrined. “I shouldn’t have given her name either.”
“I’ll talk to this woman, find out who she is.”
But when he picked up the phone, he got a dead line. He checked and said, “The caller number was blocked. Probably a marketer. All the same, think I’ll e-mail Tonya, give her a heads up.”
“Yeah, and tell her I’m sorry, okay?”
Jax went back to his computer and sent a quick message to Tonya.
Then he checked his caveman e-mail. Damn, nothing from outrageous69. Maybe Suzanne was out.
With another man?
“Tonya remarried?” Suzanne said to Jenny, who’d just called to report. “Phew, what a relief! But why didn’t Jaxon’s secretary just say that?”
“Maybe I took her by surprise when I called. Didn’t give her a chance? Sorry, Suze, guess I screwed up.”
“Well, you redeemed yourself tonight.” Jaxon hadn’t lied to her. She was right to trust him.
“Hold on,” Jenny said, “I’m just going to Google Tonya Keeler, see if she turns up.”
After a moment, Suzanne heard clicking sounds—Jen at the keyboard. How the woman could type so fast, with nails that long, Suzanne didn’t understand.
Wow, he really was single. She was so glad she’d called Jen the moment his message had popped up on-screen saying he was home. She might actually sleep tonight.
“Hey, here she is,” Jen said. “A short paragraph in a restaurant column. Tonya Keeler, head chef at Bijoux, is leaving to open her own restaurant. In partnership with her husband, Benjamin Keeler. I’ll e-mail you the link.”
“Thanks.”
She’d checked the facts and now she knew. She could carry on having sex with him, if she wanted.
He’d suggested phone sex.
Could she imagine herself . . . ? Why did phone sex seem even more outrageous than real sex?
“Jen, have you ever had phone sex?”
“
Oh. My. God!
You’re having phone sex?”
“Not yet.”
“Girl, you are getting so far beyond me, it’s not funny. I
really
need a new boyfriend. How about sharing Jaxon? He likes interracial relationships, right?”
Suzanne chuckled, knowing Jenny wasn’t serious. Or at least being pretty sure about it. “Hands off, I saw him first.”
After they hung up, Suzanne checked the link Jenny had sent, and read the article carefully. Tonya sounded successful. No picture, damn it. Was she gorgeous? And what was she like, the woman Jaxon had once planned to spend his life with?
What had happened to their marriage?
And why should she care?
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. Should she e-mail him back now, and agree to set a date for phone sex?
No, better to sleep on it.
Sleeping on it meant dreaming about it. A hot, sexy dream. As soon as she rose, she e-mailed Jax. A little “voice to voice”
action? I could get into that. You’re on, caveman. How about tonight?
Phone sex, tonight.
Could she really do it? In the bright light of a Vancouver morning, gazing out at her mother’s English country garden, she couldn’t imagine talking raunchy over the phone. Or at all!
She’d always been pretty quiet in bed. Of course, pre-Jaxon, there hadn’t been a whole hell of a lot worth talking about. She could only hope that, when she heard his voice on the phone, sexy Suzanne would respond.
One try. She’d give it one, and if it didn’t work out, then maybe it was time to call it quits and go back to being her real self.
Maybe around eleven? she typed. Seems like a fine way to finish off the week. Driving to work, she thought about the information her friends had uncovered about Jaxon. It was a relief to know he was single—but then, she’d believed him when he’d told her that, right in the beginning. It was only the girls’ concern that had got her worried.
And he was a lawyer. Ann had said he did complex litigation. What did that mean? Maybe he represented people who’d been harmed by prescription drugs, tobacco, environmental pollution and so on?
She’d like to ask, but that would break the Rules. And she couldn’t let on that she knew he was a lawyer, and divorced, because she’d learned the facts from her friends, not him. Damn. Her secret knowledge put a barrier of actual deceit between them. It was one thing for them to agree not to share personal details. That wasn’t deceit; it was choice. But this was different. She had to pretend not to know facts she actually did know. If it had turned out he was married, she’d have been glad her friends butted in and found out. But he wasn’t. He hadn’t lied to her, so now she’d rather the gals had just kept their noses out of her and Jaxon’s business.
She couldn’t be mad at them, since she understood why they’d done it. If one of them had started behaving as . . . outrageously as she had, she’d likely have butted in too. When she walked into the clinic, she must have been scowling because Trish said, “Ouch. Boyfriend troubles?”
“No. More like girlfriend troubles. Do you ever find yourself wishing your friends would mind their own business?”