Let Me Count The Ways (9 page)

I turned back to face him. “Yes?”

“Have I done something to upset you? Is that--Is that why you’re leaving so soon?”

I shook my head. “No. Of course not.” I glanced back at the table. “And I’m sorry if I overreacted about Zoe. I’m glad you bought her, Mike. Really. She’s lucky to have you.”

Mike continued to stare at me doubtfully. “You didn’t have to call a cab.”

“I know.” Claire Calhoun never
had
to do anything. She
chose
to do the things she did. Always. I smiled and blew him a kiss. “I’ll see you, okay?” And then I left, even though a part of me was wishing he’d call me back and make me stay.

Mike

I stood where I was, unable to move from the spot I’d occupied since Claire had first appeared this morning, and watched her walk away. I couldn’t think straight. The click of her heels against the hardwood floor resounded in my head. Each step was like another nail pounded into my heart. I guess it was shock that kept me rooted in place. A good thing, too. Otherwise I might have stormed outside after her. I might have dismissed the cab, might have demanded that she allow me to drive her back to town. Might have acted like a Neanderthal. Wouldn’t that have been smooth?

I would like to have claimed that my self control is what prevented me from doing any such thing, but that’s simply not true. Where Claire was concerned, my self control had never been good. This morning, it was at zero. I had nothing left. What little there’d been had dissolved overnight and there was no way of telling it I’d ever recover it.

To be honest, I didn’t want to have to. I loved that we were lovers now. This was a new phase in our relationship and I wanted it to continue, to lead someplace. Maybe not to marriage, maybe not to a life-long commitment, but I wasn’t some kid, happy for a one night stand with anything female.

Maybe that’s all she wanted. Maybe I should have been content. Maybe I would have been--once. But not any more.

I was a grown man and I was looking for an adult relationship. Last night had meant something to me. And, damn it, I wanted it to mean something to her too, even if I had no idea how to accomplish that.

Maybe Claire would solve the problem for me. Maybe she’d take the initiative and call. But maybe she wouldn’t. And, if she didn’t? Well, I wasn’t about to call her, that was for sure. Not until I had some vague idea just what in the hell she was thinking.

The sound of the cab pulling out of my drive dragged me from my thoughts. I picked up the mug Claire had been using. Resisting the urge to hurl it across the room, I managed to dredge up enough restraint to set it gently in the sink. But only just.

I felt angry and disappointed. I felt like a fool. I’d already called into my office to say I was taking the day off. Why couldn’t she have done the same?

Zoe must have sensed my distress because she launched herself into the air, landing on the counter in front of me. I lifted her to my shoulder automatically and then broke off a piece of toast and handed it to her. She crunched on it loudly and I winced a little at the sound, but it was better than having her nibble on my ear. That’s something she’s particularly fond of doing, and one of the main reasons I’d more or less stopped wearing my ear stud.

Even with all her little quirks, I wouldn’t have traded Zoe for anything. Affectionate, intelligent, beautiful and generally self-sufficient, she was the perfect pet. The fact that she had a connection to Claire was, quite honestly, something I rarely even thought about anymore.

Which only made Claire’s reaction to her, this morning, even more absurd. Stalking? Where the fuck had that come from?

But thinking about that would only make me angrier, and I was mad enough already. Not to mention frustrated beyond belief.

Normally, after a night like last night, I’d have woken up satisfied. But, waking up with Claire beside me had been a dream come true. I wanted her so badly, I knew I could do only one of two things: either get the hell out of bed or roll her over and go at it again.

Thinking it would be more thoughtful, and a whole lot more polite, if I at least let her get her eyes open before I jumped her, I’d opted for getting out of bed.

Big fucking mistake.

If I’d known she was going to call a cab and be gone before I had a chance to do more than kiss her, if I’d known I wouldn’t even get a straight answer to my question about seeing her again, I’d have damned sure re-thought that decision.

To hell with behaving like a gentleman. Hadn’t she warned me about that last night? I couldn’t believe I’d passed up the chance to make love to her this morning. Who knew if the opportunity would ever come again?

“I should have fucking screwed her senseless,” I muttered angrily.

“Should have fucking screwed her senseless,” Zoe recited flawlessly.

Great job. I groaned inwardly. Wasn’t
that
just perfect?

Not only did my words sound even worse repeated back at me, but, the way my luck was running, I could probably count on hearing them again and again. And at all the most inopportune times, as well. Much as I loved Zoe I had to admit that, sometimes, owning a pet with a talent for mimicry is not without its disadvantages.

Claire

Two weeks passed with excruciating slowness. I lost count of how many times I found myself reaching for the phone to call Mike. I missed his voice, but I was afraid he’d read more into it than that, afraid he’d think I wanted more than friendship and occasional sex. That wouldn’t be fair to either of us. He didn’t call me either, so maybe he was thinking the same thing.

But not calling didn’t stop me from thinking about him and it certainly didn’t deter me from fantasizing. Night after night, I imagined Mike’s face, Mike’s voice, Mike’s hands and mouth and cock as I brought myself to orgasm all alone in my bed.

It wasn’t bad, as fantasies went, but by the time the second Thursday rolled around I was ready for the real thing. More than ready. And, by Thursday afternoon, I was in such a state of anticipation, I could no longer sit still. So, I headed downstairs hoping I could find a way to work off some of the erotic energy that was once again building inside me. I’d been throwing myself into exercise with a vengeance these last two weeks, sitting in on whichever classes struck my fancy.

All but Derek’s.

I wasn’t ready, yet, for that much torture. I was just looking for a way to take the edge off my craving.

As luck would have it, Derek was teaching in the main studio, but even if I’d been feeling up to it, I couldn’t have joined in. Class was already in session and he’s always been a stickler for promptness. Not even the fact I pay his salary would save me from being disciplined for my infraction if I tried to slip in late.

Fortunately, there was another option available to me. Damien and Raul were working out in the small exercise room just off the reception area. The pair had been trying, for several weeks now, to convince me to add a Capoeria class to the schedule. This seemed as good a time as any to allow them to give me a demonstration.

While Damien guided me through the movements, Raul kept the rhythm on something called an
Agogo
. I have to admit I was impressed. It was fun, fast paced and a lot more strenuous than I’d thought it would be. I was so absorbed in what we were doing, however, that I nearly missed Mike’s arrival.

“Mike.” I called out, a little breathlessly, as he passed by the open door. “Hi.”

He swept the room with a glance, and nodded curtly. “Hello,” he murmured as he continued up the stairs to my office.

I felt rebuffed. That was it? One word? My heart had actually skipped a beat when I saw him. I couldn’t even remember the last time
that
had happened! And he couldn’t spare me a smile? A second glance? A complete sentence? Not wanting to let my disappointment show, I kept the guys busy for almost fifteen minutes more before I pleaded exhaustion and escaped.

Mike appeared to be absorbed in his work when I breezed into my office, vigorously fanning my face with one hand. “Whew, that was fun.” I was glad I could blame the flush on my cheeks and the breathlessness in my voice on the exercise. When Mike’s eyes met mine, I was even more glad he was too far away to notice the pounding of my heart.

Then he dropped his gaze and refocused on the papers in front of him, without so much as a single word.

Silence filled the room. Feigning indifference, I hopped on my desk, uncapped the bottle of water I’d taken from the refrigerator downstairs and gulped half of it down. I was now annoyed as well as disappointed. If I had any sense at all, Mike’s present disinterest would have had a chilling effect on my libido, but, apparently, I’d learned nothing from my last marriage.

“Have you ever tried Capoeria, Mike?” I asked when I could think of nothing else to say. I was just trying to make conversation although, given Mike’s wide range of interests, I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn he used to teach it.

“No,” he answered shortly.

“Oh, you should. It’s so much fun.”

“So you’ve said.”

More silence. Dead air. God damn it. Why should I even bother? If Mike was no longer interested, I should just find someone who was. How hard could it be? He wasn’t all that, after all. He was older, mostly bald, hardly in the best of shape. And, at the moment, he was as cranky and out of sorts as an entire cast of sleep-deprived, PMS-positive Divas in the midst of a chocolate famine.
Never
a good look for a man. And, yet... it was still all I could do to keep from launching an ambush, shoving his chair away from the desk, straddling his lap, unzipping his fly...

Maybe he wouldn’t be ready for me, but so what? I knew how to get him there quick.

But was it worth it? Did I want to have to work that hard for any man’s attention?

Well, maybe. Just remembering how hot we’d been together was enough to start me creaming. One night wasn’t enough. I wanted more of what we’d had. I wanted to be naked under him now. And, like a moth drawn to his particular brand of fire, no other candle was going to do it for me.

Groaning in disgust at my own weakness, I let my head fall back and slowly trailed the cool plastic cylinder down my throat, hoping it would slow my racing pulse. Capoeria might be great exercise, but it had obviously done
nothing
to diminish the horniness I was feeling. I was tempted to slide the bottle between my thighs, to rub its frigid surface against my heated flesh and maybe ease the fluttering pressure in my sex. Would Mike even notice if I did? I raised my head and caught him staring, eyes dark with what could only be lust.
Oh, yeah, he’d notice.
Good. I felt my mood lift. So much for disinterest.

Bracing my hands on the edge of the desk, I leaned forward. “So what’s going on here, Mike? I don’t even get a greeting now? What’s up with that?”

He frowned, the heat in his gaze diminishing as his eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about when you first got here today. I said hi and you totally blew me off.”

“Claire, I did not blow you off.”

“You did. You completely ignored me.”

“How? I said hello, didn’t I?”

I snorted. “Barely.”

“Well, you were occupied.”

“Oh, please. What kind of excuse is that?“

“I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Hmph.” I thought about that as Mike once again focused on his work. It was plausible, I supposed. And really very considerate, if looked at in just the right way. I still felt slighted. “Very thoughtful. But hardly necessary. We were just fooling around.”

“Yes, that would have been my impression too. It’s a mystery to me why you do it.”

“What does that mean?”

Mike sighed. “It means I don’t understand why you waste your time with these... with these young guys in their... beachwear.”

Beachwear? “This is about clothing? What’s wrong with the way they were dressed?”

“Nothing. Forget it.”

Damien and Raul had been dressed appropriately, I‘d thought, in white tanks, bearing the studio’s logo, over black Lycra shorts. It was a look that was only slightly more casual than my own apparel, a lime colored, cap sleeve, scoop neck T and matching yoga pants. Mike, in comparison, was almost overdressed in khaki pants and a sage-green linen shirt. The stud I’d admired last time was once again glittering in his ear and a two-toned Rolex Oyster was clasped around his wrist. I had to admit he looked good. Attractive. Moderately affluent. Mature. Respectable. And angry.

But why? “What are you so angry about?”

“I’m not angry.”

Right. Not much.
Once again, I considered Mike’s appearance, contrasting it with that of Damien and Raul. I recalled their hard sculpted bodies, their gleaming, oiled muscles, their... Oh. The corners of my mouth quirked upward. “Mike... are you jealous?”

“No.” He continued to work steadily, but the heightened color in his cheeks and the grim set of his jaw gave him away. “Of course not.”

“Mike...”

When he glanced up again, the scowl on his face wiped the smile from mine in a hurry. “Is that what you wanted Claire? Were you hoping I’d make a scene in front of your boys? Sorry to disappoint you.”

I could feel my cheeks flaming. “No, that’s not what I...”

“Excuse me. I have a lot of work to do.”

“Mike!”

He ignored me. Frustrated, I blew out an exasperated breath. I tried hard to hold on to my sense of outrage, he was acting like an ass. But it was impossible for me to stay angry with him. There was an odd tightness in my chest that wouldn’t allow it. I couldn’t help but recall my own reaction, two weeks ago, to Derek and his class full of pretzels. How welcome Mike’s admiration had been to me then.

I cleared my throat. “For what it’s worth, I was
not
trying to make you jealous.”

Mike nodded. “Glad to hear it.”

“But, just in case you are feeling that way...”

“I’m
not
,” he growled through clenched teeth. “I told you that already.”