Ulterior Motives (22 page)

“Humor me,” he said, nuzzling her. “Say something romantic.”

“Ta gueule.”

“That’s not romantic, it’s downright rude,” he chided.

“Moo goo gai pan.”

He slipped his hand inside the robe and caressed a soft, warm breast.
“I tuoi seni sono come due pesci,”
he said seductively.

Shelley burst out laughing. “Ross, are you sure that’s what your Italian friend taught you to say?”

“Well, it’s been a few years. What’s so funny?”

“You just told me my breasts are like two fish.”

He laughed. “Maybe that’s why that line never worked for me.”

“Sit down and eat, Romeo.”

“Wait a minute. I came prepared this time.”

“I told you I was already prepared,” she teased him.

“No, I brought the important stuff this time.” He pulled a bottle of expensive champagne out of the grocery bag he’d brought in with his overnight bag.

“This costs a fortune,” she said, examining the bottle. “You’re so frivolous.”

“But extremely well dressed.”

“Hey, that reminds me. Since those dresses yesterday didn’t cost me anything—” She batted her eyelashes at him. “—I can afford something else. Can we go shopping tomorrow?”

He considered it as she started eating. “Only if it’s a lingerie shop.”

“That’s so impractical, Ross. I don’t need sexy underwear for work, and you’ve made it abundantly clear that I won’t stay in it more than a minute or two around you.”

“We’ll negotiate tomorrow,” he said, digging into a carton of roast pork and vegetables.

They ate and cleaned up and talked and, surprised at how familiar they were already growing with each other, made love again.

They went shopping Saturday and compromised by going to several different shops. Ross bought her a sexy nightgown which, as she had predicted, she only got to wear for a few moments before it wound up on the floor next to her bed. And that was in broad daylight. Before meeting Ross she would have been scandalized at wasting so much time in bed; but with Ross, the time was anything but wasted.

She showed him around some of her favorite places in Cincinnati, slipped her arm companionably through his as they walked through Sawyer Point, laughed as he screwed up his face while tasting some of the local brands of beer, and bickered with him about whether or not they’d eat Chinese food again that night.

The weekend passed in a haze of pleasure, both physical and emotional. It wasn’t until late Sunday night that Shelley permitted herself to think about Babel. She left Ross sleeping the sleep of deep exhaustion after having made love to her yet again that day, and went into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. She was sitting at the kitchen table when she felt her lover’s familiar touch. He massaged her shoulders for a moment, then kissed the top of her head. His arms slid around her with easy grace.

“Two nights in your bed and already I can’t sleep unless you’re beside me,” he murmured against her hair. He released her and slid into the chair across from hers. Their eyes met. “I woke up alone, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that you were in here brooding about work.”

“I have to face it. I have to decide how I’m going to handle the job, my staff, my bosses... even you.”

“You’re a remarkable woman. No, don’t interrupt. You have insight and perception and courage, and you’ll know how to deal with each of them when the time comes.” He touched her cheek, his gaze soft. If only she would resign and work with him, he thought. But she had cut him off the one time all weekend he’d suggested it again. “I would give anything for us not to be opponents. I would give anything not to complicate your life this way.”

“Anything?” she said dryly. “You wouldn’t even leave nicely on Friday when I asked you to.”

“I’ve never been in this situation before, Shelley, and if I’m not as practical as you, I still knew all the reasons for avoiding you. I just couldn’t do it.”

He hadn’t shaved, and the shadow of a beard darkening his cheeks made him look rakish and dangerous. As always, she found his departure from perfection irresistibly appealing. His faith in her ability and his admission of his untamable desire for her added fuel to the bonfire burning inside her. She didn’t want to make love, not right now; they just had. They had made love so many times this weekend that her whole body ached with a delicious pain of weariness and a sweet feeling of being well used.

No, sex wasn’t what she wanted now. Shelley swallowed, emotion welling up in her and threatening to spill over as tears—tears that would confuse and concern him. Suddenly, without forethought, she stood up, rounded the table, and slid onto his lap.

He sensed something happening inside her. “What is it?” he whispered.

“Just hold me,” she pleaded softly. “Hold me tight.”

Unable to fathom her sudden change of mood, he did as she asked, wishing he could always shelter her as he was doing at this moment.

“You must be kidding!” Jerome said in obvious irritation.

“I wouldn’t kid about this, Jerome,” Shelley said quietly. “I tried to stop it, I tried—
we
tried—to stay apart. But we can’t. If you insist I resign, then I will. I am aware that, despite my guarantees to the contrary, you may feel I can no longer—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jerome snapped. “You know I don’t want you to resign.” There was a long silence on the telephone line. “I have to think about this, Shelley. This is really out of the blue. I’ll call you back later, okay?”

Having broken the news to her immediate superior eased more of Shelley’s tension than she would have guessed. She faced Wayne and Francesca with determination, feeling more confident than she had in quite a while. She was still the boss, after all. Wayne might have some legitimate objections to her situation, but he’d better behave maturely or she’d put him in his place.

To her surprise, Wayne looked sheepish and embarrassed, not at all like the sullen, angry young man she’d expected to find. Francesca was still worried about the outcome of events, but she beamed and uttered platitudes about love conquering all. Shelley decided not to speak to her teachers. Let them believe whatever they wanted to believe. She would be discreet, but she wouldn’t sneak around, nor would she justify herself to anyone. Jerome finally called the office just as she was preparing to meet Ross for dinner. She braced herself for his decision, feeling proud of herself despite everything. Whatever happened, she was behaving, under the circumstances, the way she had been raised to behave. Her parents would be proud of her if they knew. So would Ross, if only she could have told him.

“First of all,” Jerome said as Shelley held the phone to her ear, “I want you to call me every single day to report professional developments. I will count on you to tell me the moment, the very
moment
, you feel your personal life is impeding your professional conduct.
If
that happens,” he added gruffly.

“Okay,” Shelley agreed.

“I will not tell anyone else about this, and neither will you, apart from those who already know.”

“You don’t want headquarters to know?” she asked cautiously.

“Are you kidding? Shelley, I’ve worked with you for two years, I’ve respected you the whole time, and I like you. Therefore, I’m prepared to trust you. I’m willing to believe there’s no immediate reason to fire or transfer you. But do you honestly think they would agree with me?”

“No, but what if—”

“You’ve reported the situation to your immediate superior and met your obligations. Any other action is my responsibility. So let me handle it as I see fit, Shelley.”

“Okay, Jerome. And thank you,” she added warmly.

Over dinner that night, she told Ross that she had handled it. She was dying to say more, to tell him how nervous she’d been, how sheepish Wayne seemed to feel, how sensibly she’d acted, how supportive Jerome was. But they had agreed not to talk about their jobs, and it was the best decision. She could not safely betray the shaky state of affairs in her school to Elite’s boy genius. So she told him she had handled it, and left it at that.

Ross knew better than to press Shelley for details and he recognized that she was being practical. It was better to leave that door shut than to open it even a crack. But he was dissatisfied. He wanted to share his day with her and to hear about hers. How had she felt when she broke the news to her superior in Chicago? How had Wayne treated her today? Was the day full of tension, or had things returned to normal in her office?

He wanted to tell her his suspicions about one of the teachers at Elite. Evidence suggested that the teacher had stolen teaching materials from Elite’s storage room and was offering Elite teaching methods out of his home at half the price. He also wanted to share his dislike of Chuck’s secretary with Shelley. There was no real reason to fire the woman, but he didn’t trust her; Shelley might be able to offer him some insight if he told her about it. Instead, he suggested they go to a movie after dinner.

The rest of the week followed much the same pattern. They met in the evening, after an entire day of looking forward to seeing each other. Though they experienced strain over not being able to talk about their working day, they balanced it with all the other things they enjoyed talking about. Sometimes they made love in her apartment before going out, and other times they met in town. He ended every night in her bed, holding her, touching her, sometimes making love to her again, sometimes just enjoying the warm comfort of sleeping with her. He never invited her to his hotel. He was sick of hotels and their anonymous decor. Shelley’s apartment was a real home, her home, and he felt content there.

One evening he suggested they go away for the weekend.

Shelley looked up from the food she was preparing in her kitchen. “Why?”

He shrugged. “I want to take you away from all this.” He glanced at the baskets of dirty laundry next to the couch.

She smiled. She had talked him into taking the laundry to the basement and doing it while she made dinner. “You’re procrastinating,” she said knowingly.

“I’m building spiritual strength for the task at hand,” he corrected.

“Where would we go?”

“I don’t know, this is your turf. There must be some quiet little resort within a couple of hours.”

“I don’t know about that... But I’ve never been to Lexington.”

“Lexington?” he repeated without enthusiasm.

“Well, we could visit some of the horse farms during the day. Maybe even drive down to the Kentucky Horse Park. I’d like that.”

He shrugged. “Sounds fine to me. As long as it’s out of town and we don’t spend
all
our time looking at horses.”

“I’ll let you pick the hotel. And don’t let your secretary do it—everyone in town will know we’re going away for a dirty weekend.”

“It’ll be plenty dirty,” he promised her, his eyes gleaming. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Good, now go take care of our laundry, Ross. I think it’s scandalous that you usually
pay
someone to do yours.”

He gave a martyred sigh and carried the laundry out the door, muttering about getting himself involved with a girl with such hopelessly inflexible working-class ethics.

Chapter Nine