“No.” Gus banged the phone down and wheeled toward
the steps. He was halfway up them when the phone rang again. He wheeled back to the table, grabbed the phone and barked, “I said no!”
“Who the hell
are
you?” Gwen Parrish demanded. Gus recognized her aged-whiskey voice from
60 Minutes.
A man with a roaring, raging hard-on for your sister who'd like to reach through the phone and rip out your tonsils, Gus wanted to say, but shot back, “Who the hell are
you
?“
“Gwen Parrish. Put my mother on.”
“She isn't here.”
“Bebe, then.”
“She isn't here, either.”
“Oh for God's sake. Then I suppose I'll have to talk to Cydney.”
“She's asleep.”
“Well, wake her
up.”
“I plan to.” Gus pulled the jack out of the wall and took the gallery stairs two at a time.
Cydney didn't answer when he rapped on her door and called her name. He knocked again, turned the knob and pushed the door open, peeked around it and saw her sprawled on her back in the four-poster bed, her right arm flung over her eyes. A wedge of sunlight from the east-facing window, dappled with the pattern of the eyelet curtains, sliced across the foot of the bed and the hump of a pillow tucked under her legs beneath the double wedding ring quilt.
Gus shut the door, went down on his knees beside the bed and slid his outstretched arms under the covers. The sheets were cool, Cydney's body soft and warm with sleep. Gus cupped her to him and nuzzled his way past the buttons on her pajama top, brushed her smooth, taut stomach with his mouth and felt her quiver, sigh and curl around him, her right arm draped over his shoulders.
“Ummm,” she mumbled, her voice bleary. “Did I sleep all day?”
“Nope. It's still morning.” Gus raised his head and saw her peering at him, puffy-eyed, her nose half-buried in her pillow. “Your mother and Herb just left for Eureka Springs.”
“Ohhh,” she breathed, blinking and lifting her head. “I forgot.”
“I thought they'd never get the hell out of here, but they just left.”
“So what are you doing on the floor?”
“Praying you haven't changed your mind.”
She smiled sleepily and turned on her back, kicked the pillow out from under her knees and stretched like a cat. “Come find out.”
Gus slid out of his robe and into Cydney's arms. She drew the quilt over him, enfolding him in the warm cocoon of her body. He shivered and she rubbed her hands on his back, rocking him on top of her, his weight on his knees and his elbows.
“Ooh, you're cold,” she murmured.
“I took a shower, but I didn't shave.”
“Good boy.” She kissed his whiskered chin, the scrape of her teeth like the flare of a match on his senses.
Gus pushed against her, tipping her head back and arching her throat. He buried his mouth in the peach-kissed hollow, felt her pulse leap against his lips and a shiver run through her. Over the moan that quivered up her throat, he heard Bebe's voice in the hallway.
“Gramma? Gramma, where are you?”
Cydney froze. “Did you lock the door?” she whispered.
“Uh—” Gus tried to remember.
“Shit.”
She heaved him off of her, bolted for the door and flipped the lock half a second before Bebe knocked.
“Uncle Cyd?” she called, rattling the knob. “Are you in there?”
“I'm getting dressed,” Cydney replied. “Whatisit?”
“Come see the decorations Aldo and I bought. Where's Gramma?”
“On her way to Eureka Springs with Herb.”
“Where's Mr. Munroe?”
“Urn—” Cydney glanced at the bed. “I don't know. I just got up.”
Me, too,
Gus mouthed at her and she flushed.
“Well, hurry up and come see, okay? Aldo!” Bebe called,
her voice drifting away from the door. “Uncle Cyd hasn't seen him, either.”
“Oh God.” Cydney shut her eyes and leaned her forehead against the door.
“I bate
sneaking.”
Gus swung himself into a sitting position on the side of the bed, revved up and ready, his fists clenched on the mattress to keep back a howl of frustration. “You didn't hate it a minute ago.”
“A minute ago we were alone.” She whipped her head toward him and frowned. “Being alone isn't sneaking.”
“Okay. I can follow that.” Gus nodded. “It makes sense— sort of.”
“I don't know what I was thinking.” She rubbed a hand through her hair and sighed. “If Bebe and Aldo can't sleep together, then neither can we.”
“I didn't say Aldo and Bebe can't sleep together,” Gus said. “I said they can't sleep together in my house. I didn't say you and I couldn't.”
“That's splitting hairs.” She jammed her hands on her hips. “And I don't believe in double standards.”
“I don't, either.” Gus smiled and wagged his eyebrows. “But I do believe lust will find a way.”
She just looked at him for a second, then hurried toward the big, teal green suitcase lying open on the blanket box at the foot of the bed.
“Give me time to get downstairs and distract Bebe and Aldo,” she said, tossing a red tweed sweater and a pair of black twill pants over her arm. “If you use the back stairs, you should be able to get up to your room without them seeing you.”
“Cydney, we aren't sneaking. We're adults and this is my house.”
“And it's your rule.” She looked up at him, an itsy-bitsy-teeny-tiny pair of white bikinis and a lace bra in her hands that made his mouth water. “If Bebe and Aldo can't sleep together without marriage then neither can we. And no, I don't want to marry you. Make love with you, yes. Marry you, no way in hell.”
She snatched up her white sneakers and darted into the bathroom. The door shut like a slap and Gus sprang after her. The lock clicked and he spread his hands on both sides of the door, so aroused and frustrated he wanted to bash his head against it.
“What does that mean—‘no way in hell’?”
“Keep your voice down,” she hissed through the door. “It means I don't want to marry you.”
“Not that I've asked you, but why not?”
She opened the door, tugging the cowl neck of her sweater into place. “Do you want to marry me?”
“No offense, but no. I don't want to marry anyone.”
“Then stop huffing and puffing.”
“I'm not puffing,” Gus shot back indignantly. “Huffing, maybe—”
She rolled her eyes and shut the door. He grabbed the knob just as the lock clicked and froze it in his hand.
“All right, Cydney.” Gus sighed. “Just tell me what I said wrong.”
“You didn't say anything wrong.” She opened the door, fully dressed, finger-combing her silver-blond curls into place. “You and I are sexually mature adults. We can enjoy lust and not confuse it with love.”
“That sounds familiar.”
“It should.” Cydney ducked under his arm and headed across the bedroom. “You said it to me in my kitchen Tuesday night.”
Ouch. Did it sound that stupid when he'd said it? He turned around in the bathroom doorway just as Cydney unlocked and opened the bedroom door and looked back at him.
“And yes,” she said, as if she'd read his mind. “It sounded every bit as dopey when you said it. Give me five minutes.”
She slipped into the hallway and shut the door. Gus wiped a hand over his mouth, snatched his robe off the floor and shrugged it on, so strung up on testosterone that his hands shook.
You said it, Munroe,
his inner voice reminded him.
You don't drag a woman who bakes macaroons and keeps them
in a teddy bear cookie jar to bed for a day of hot, wild sex. You court her, you make love to her and then you marry her.
“Oh shut up,” Gus snarled, and stalked out of Cydney's bedroom.
He took the back stairs through the dining room and into the kitchen. The swinging door behind the bar was closed. He could hear Bebe's voice but couldn't make out what she was saying. He tucked the front of his robe together, knotted the belt and eased the door open.
Cydney sat on the blue leather sofa by the gallery stairs. Bebe stood in front of her amid a pile of shopping bags, winding orange and black crepe-paper streamers around her aunt's shoulders. Gus could see three-quarters of Bebe's happy smile and all of the shell-shocked expression on Cydney's face.
“Won't this be
fun,
Uncle Cyd? A Halloween wedding!” Bebe gave the crepe paper a last flip over her shoulders and snatched up a shopping bag. “Aldo and I found all this neat stuff on sale in a party store in Springfield and thought, how
cool.
We can bob for apples after we cut the cake! And the best part, the absolute
most
fun is this. Ta-da!”
Bebe pulled a rubber gorilla mask out of the bag, put it on and threw her arms out wide.
“A masquerade reception!”
Cydney just stared at her. Yesterday Gus would've danced a jig of joy. Today he didn't know what to do but feel for Cydney.
“You're not saying anything, Uncle Cyd.” Bebe's arms wilted at her sides. “You hate it, don't you?”
“Uh—no.” Cydney blinked, coming out of her stupor. “I'm just—um—wondering if a gorilla mask will go with your dress.”
“Everything goes with pearls, Uncle Cyd. Gramma says so, and I bought lots of different masks. One for each guest.” Bebe pulled out another one, took off the gorilla and tugged on a horrid rubber face with horns and warts. “How 'bout this one?”
“Eeeuu.” Cydney wrinkled her nose. “What is that?”
“An ogre. I thought it would be perfect for Aldo's Uncle Gus.”
“Little twit,” Gus muttered, and pushed through the door.
Cydney frowned at him. Probably because he was still in his bathrobe. Bebe turned around, saw him and ripped off the mask. The front doors banged open and Aldo came down the steps staggering under the weight of a huge orange pumpkin.
“Hey, Uncle Gus. Gimme a hand, would you?” He panted. “I've got a hundred and twenty-five of these things.”
Gus wrestled the pumpkin away from Aldo and grunted. The damn thing weighed forty pounds if it weighed an ounce. “What in hell are you going to do with a hundred and twenty-five pumpkins?”
“Carve them into jack-o'-lanterns.” Aldo grinned. “They're the focal point of Bebe's decorating scheme.”
“Just picture it, Mr. Munroe!” Bebe gushed excitedly. “The jack-o'-lanterns lit with candles. Streamers draped from the ceiling beams with fake cobwebs and orange icicle lights. And look at these!” She pulled a string of lights out of a bag, little orange pumpkins interspersed with black and white skulls. “Won't the great room look
cool
?”
“Very cool,” Gus agreed, hefting the pumpkin onto the bar. “But your guests might think they're at a Halloween party, not a wedding.”
“That's the whole idea.” Bebe gave him a you-moron-you look. “It'll be the most different wedding anyone has ever attended.”
“Different is good, Bebe,” Cydney said, getting to her feet. “But this is your big day. Are you sure you want to share the limelight with a hundred and twenty-five pumpkins?”
Bebe whirled to face her. “You hate it.”
“Not at all. Sounds like great fun to me, but I'm not sure what Gramma George will think.”
“I don't care what Gramma thinks.” Bebe stuck her lip out. “This is
my
wedding. Mine and Aldo's, and yesterday morning Mr. Munroe told Aldo we had to plan it all by ourselves, so that's what we did.”
Cydney blinked and swung an accusing glare on him. Oh shit. What he'd said to Aldo by the lake—that's what Bebe meant.
“Wait a minute, Bebe,” he said quickly. “I think Aldo misunderstood. That's not what I said.”
“Yeah, it is, Uncle Gus.” Aldo slouched up beside him with his hands in his back pockets. “That's exactly what you said.”
Cydney's eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared.
“You asked what it would take to prove to me that you and Bebe are old enough to get married,” Gus countered swiftly. “I said that if you could pull the wedding off in a week without any help from anyone else I'd believe you're old enough to take care of yourselves. I did not say you had to do it all on your own.”
“Yes, you did,” Aldo insisted. “You said, 'We got a deal here, pal?' I said yes and we shook on it.”
“I should have known.” Cydney sucked a breath between her teeth. “The whole time you were making up to me you had this little contingency plan in place.”
“This is not a plan, Cydney. This is a misunderstanding.”
“Did you or did you not say to Aldo, 'We got a plan here, pal?' “
“I did, yes, but that's not what I—”
“I've heard enough,” she cut him off, and spun toward the stairs.
“Cydney, wait!” Gus called, bounding up the steps behind her.
She beat him to the gallery by two strides and bolted down the hall. Gus had to run to catch her. When he reached for her arm she spun around and stepped on his unbandaged broken toe.
“Yow!” He grabbed his foot and fell against the wall.
“I warned you. I told you if you did one more thing to screw up this wedding—”
“I'm not an idiot, Cydney. I confessed the Grand Plan to your mother. You can't possibly believe I did this on purpose.”
“I don't know what I believe.” She ruffled a shaky hand through her hair, tears clinging to her eyelashes. “Just when I think I can trust you, I turn around and it looks like you're up to no good again.”
“I admit I dared Aldo.” Gus pushed off the wall, his toe throbbing. “But I did it after breakfast, before I swore off plotting and scheming.”
“You told me you gave up the Grand Plan
before
breakfast. You said you meant to delete it then, but you dared Aldo
after
breakfast.”
“Aldo and Bebe can't plan their way out of a paper bag. That's the point I was trying to make—which they proved by buying gorilla masks and a hundred and twenty-five pumpkins—and I was angry. Bebe was hateful to you when you came into the kitchen.”
“I see.” She jammed her arms together. “You were defending me.”
“Yeah, that's it,” Gus agreed swiftly. “I was defending you.”
“So I'd sleep with you.”
“Yes. I mean no. I mean—”
“Go away,” she said disgustedly, and spun toward her room.