Sleeping with Beauty (30 page)

When Jana pointedly looked away, Lucy dragged at her arm until she met her gaze again. “What?” Jana said. “I’m trying to be open-minded, but you’re right. I think Jason was a prick in high school. A good-looking, charming-as-the-devil prick, but a prick is a prick.”

“Why don’t you say that a little louder?”

Jana opened her mouth to shout it to the world, only Lucy jerked her arm and shushed her. “Okay,” Lucy said, glancing around. “I get it.”

“And just what are you getting out of it, anyway?” Jana asked.

“There’s chemistry there. When he danced with me, kissed me—”

“You were so caught up in the idea of being kissed by Jason Prescott I bet you don’t even remember how it felt.” When Lucy didn’t immediately reply, Jana pointed a finger. “Aha! I’m right. The chemistry is just you being desired by a desirable. When you get down to it, you don’t really like the guy much.”

“He didn’t treat me badly on the date. I just think . . .” She trailed off and picked at the label on her bottle of water.

“What?” Jana asked more gently.

Lucy sighed a little, looked up. “Yes, he seems a bit bigger than life, but he has that kind of life. He was also more human than I expected, and nothing but polite with me. If the fault on the crappy date lies anywhere, it’s with me.”

“You?”

Lucy smiled a little. “See, that’s why I have you as my best friend. Thanks for the instant defensive reaction. I feel better now.”

“You’re welcome. Now, explain how the Date From Hell was your fault.”

“Because he was exactly what I knew him to be. But I wasn’t what he expected me to be. The dance night was a sham on my part. I mean, that was me in that dress, with those jewels and that hair. But we didn’t really get any chance to talk there, to know anything more about each other than that there was chemistry between us. That was enough for me. Enough to want to go out with him when he asked. I just thought when he started to get to know the real me, the chemistry sort of died a little on his side of things.” She smiled. “Then he called me. So maybe I was just too flustered to read things right.”

“So you’re going to the Willard this Friday.”

“Sue me. I’m human. He’s interested. I’m still curious.”

“Except the person he asked out was Vixen Lucy.”

“You’re making me feel even more schizo about this whole thing than I already do.”

“Well, you were the one who said you wanted to start keeping it real. How long do you think you can keep up the Glass Slipper Barbie front?”

She abandoned her attempts to peel the label off the bottle and looked squarely at Jana. “Vivian thinks if I just walk the walk and talk the talk, eventually it will become more natural for me.”

“So, okay, let’s go with that theory. You start to like the whole spike heels, siren dress, perfectly-plucked-everything deal. You get used to the whole girly-girl routine, embrace your outer Barbie. Fine. But that doesn’t change who you are on the inside. You’re still a third-grade teacher from Alexandria with a goofy sense of humor, no personal shopper, and two dorky best friends.”

“A more confident third-grade teacher from Alexandria with a goofy sense of humor and two dorky best friends. Or one, anyway.”

“Can you be confident enough to go mingle in Jason’s world and still feel like you can be yourself?”

“Honestly? I don’t know,” Lucy answered. “I guess I feel like I’ve come this far and I want the chance to find out.” She grinned. “Look at it this way, even if Jason never calls me again, I’ll have dipped my toes into a whole new dating pool.”

“Just be careful they don’t get bitten off,” Jana muttered.

“Your confidence in me is so inspiring,” Lucy said dryly.

“It’s not you I lack confidence in. I just don’t want to see you—”

“Get hurt. I know. And I appreciate that you guys worry about me, even though I think it’s misplaced. But I think I’ve got my eyes pretty wide open at this point. It’s still just as much about figuring my own self out as it is in getting a man.”

Jana just gave her a look.

“Okay, so if I happen to get laid and he happens to make six figures a year and drives a Carrera, I’m not exactly going to complain.”

Jana sipped her water and didn’t say anything, and for a few minutes they both turned their attention back to the action on The Mall. “You know I do get that you’re just trying to figure things out for yourself. I don’t want you to limit yourself, or not reach for new things.”

Lucy shot her a sideways smile. “Now you sound like a mom.” Her smile grew when Jana scowled. “Maybe
you
should embrace that reality. Reach for it instead of being so terrified of it.”

“I thought we were talking about you.”

“Oh yeah, you’re all for me taking risks,” she teased, but gently.

Jana smiled a little. “A girl has to try.”

“Yes,” Lucy said, quite seriously, “a girl does.”

Jana ducked her head, wishing she could duck the whole issue. “So,” she said, taking a deep breath, then looking at Lucy, “what if I reach for it, embrace this whole motherhood thing . . . only to find I can’t hack it? That I resent the hell out of my own child for having the nerve to be born and wrecking all my carefully laid plans?”

Lucy pulled Jana into a hug. “You won’t be in this alone, you know.”

“Parts of it I will,” Jana said testily.

Lucy loosened her hold on her and smiled. “Yeah, but they make really good drugs for that part.” Then she took Jana’s water bottle and set both bottles aside before taking Jana’s hands in hers. “We’ll be with you every step of the way. Before and after.”

They were both sniffling and Jana could only nod. “Thanks,” she managed, wishing she could better articulate what Lucy’s support really meant to her. Instead, she pulled her into another hug. They held on to each other tightly for several long moments, sniffling occasionally, before finally letting go.

They picked up their water bottles and each took a sip, their thoughts their own for a few moments.

“So,” Jana started, after clearing her throat, “if I promised to work harder at finding a solution to my problems over my pregnancy, would you give up seeing Jason? You know, to get back in Grady’s good graces? For my sake?”

Lucy swung a surprised gaze to Jana, then rolled her eyes when she realized Jana was kidding. “I’ll deal with Grady,” she promised her. “One way or the other.”

Jana wished she could trust in that, but Lucy had no idea what she was really dealing with. And Jana simply couldn’t be the one to tell her. That would have to come from Grady. If it ever came at all.

Chapter
24
                                                                                                                                       

A
ll he wanted was a hot shower and the sweet oblivion of sleep. It had been a long week. Who was he kidding? It had been a long month. And only part of that was the project he was currently heading up. As daunting as it was exciting, most of his waking moments and a goodly number of his sleeping ones were spent dreaming about carbon nanotubes and microfluidics.

He stepped out of the elevator and was fishing out his key when he turned the corner and stopped short. The person who consumed the rest of his waking and sleepless moments was presently slumped on the floor next to his door, apparently asleep.

He glanced at his wristwatch, but he already knew it was past two in the morning. What the hell was she doing here?
Stupid question, jerkoff.
Apparently he’d ignored her long enough, and now it was time to pay the piper.

He’d wanted to call her. She wasn’t the only one who wanted to get them back to some semblance of normalcy. He just had no idea how to go about it. He’d gone to the reunion dance with the intention of . . . hell, he wasn’t quite sure what his intentions had been that night. Confronting her? Being there for her in case Jason was still the same asshole? Both? Neither?

All he knew was that when he’d laid eyes on her wearing that sequined getup guaranteed to give even a dead man a hard-on, he’d been both disappointed and disconcertingly turned on. Hey, he was a red-blooded male and very much alive, thanks. But hard-on or not, the disappointment was worse. That hadn’t been the real Lucy there that night.

Now, however, as he examined the woman curled up sleeping next to his door, he wondered if he’d been wrong.

She was wearing Regular Lucy clothes. But that was pretty much where Regular Lucy began and ended. He stood there for a long moment, blatantly using the edge she’d unknowingly given him to look at her. Really look at her. He’d watched her across the room at the reunion, circling the floor . . . dancing with fucking Prescott. But that had been like watching a stranger. Looking down at her now made him feel that oh-so-familiar pang inside his chest. The way her hair fell across her face in a scatter of long, messy strands, casting shadows beneath the lashes brushing her cheek. The way her mouth turned down in one corner and up in the other while she slept, like even in sleep she was the one in on the best joke.

How many concerts had they gone to over the years where she’d slept on the way home, and he’d parked in her driveway and watched her for as long as he could stand it? He’d always wondered what she was dreaming about, if it was as amusing as her slumbering expression insinuated. He remembered thinking how he wanted to be part of her dreams. She’d long since become a staple in his.

He shook that memory loose and stared at her hands, lying limp in her lap, hands he’d held many times in friendship, a connection he’d cherished, even if it always left him wanting more. The endlessly long tangle of legs. Dorky, spastic legs that she’d never seemed to get total control over, in youth or adulthood. “Grace” wasn’t her middle name, or any of her names, for that matter. She’d come striding into that ballroom like a Valkyrie, but then he’d watched her stick to the sidelines, taking careful steps, weaving the path of least resistance . . . the one least apt to gain notice. Proving she was still, underneath it all, the awkward, somewhat insecure Lucy he knew and loved.

And he was left wondering if he was the one who’d become the stranger. She’d only wanted to feel better about herself, to fit in. And he’d just wanted—desperately—for her to be happy fitting in with him.

Jana had been right. Again. They were both searching for fulfillment, but only Lucy had gone out and done something about it. While he’d been a completely selfish ass because he was too afraid to make the same leap of faith and reach for what he wanted.

Now she was dating fucking Jason Prescott. And he was avoiding her calls like they were both fifteen years old and having some stupid, immature argument.

It had been three weeks—God, four—since the reunion, and though he really had been buried in work, he could have returned at least one of the increasingly graphic and pointed messages Lucy had been routinely leaving on his machine. He knew he’d hurt her by abandoning her like he had. But dammit, she’d hurt him, too. The only difference was, she’d hurt him unknowingly. Yet he had sighed in admitted selfish relief that Jana had apparently elected to keep silent and leave the decision on how to handle things between them with him.

Of course, that hadn’t kept him from hearing inside his head the advice he knew she’d give him.
Be a man, grow a pair, and go after her, jerkface!
Well, she might have been nicer about it. But then again, maybe not. He’d apologized to her for the added drama that she definitely didn’t need. But even knowing that, knowing it wasn’t fair to Jana right now to pile this on her, too . . . he’d found himself listening to Lucy’s messages, hand hovering over the phone, knowing the right thing to do was to suck it up and call, only to hit the
DELETE
button. Again.

Looking down at Lucy now, he didn’t know where he thought it was all going to end. Or what he wanted from her. And so he’d let work consume him, conveniently avoiding coming to any kind of actual decision. Like maybe it would just take care of itself. In the back of his mind he supposed he knew Thanksgiving was coming and they’d all be together. He’d figure something out by then. Probably.

“Why’d you have to go and upset the routine, Luce?” he murmured.
Because she wanted a life filled with more than having two best friends and a good job, asswipe.
Which forced the hard question: Didn’t he want more, too?

Not if it meant losing Lucy.

And there was the crux of the whole thing. Be happy with what he had? Or push for more and possibly lose it all?

Maybe it was already too late for that. Maybe fucking Prescott had already snagged her heart. And God-knows-what else.

He nudged Lucy’s leg with his toe. Perhaps with more force than absolutely necessary. “Oh, my God,” he said flatly, in what Lucy called his James Spader voice, “there’s a homeless person in my hall. Vagrancy being a crime and all, I guess I better call the cops.”

Lucy came awake the way she always did, almost instantly alert. Considering the hour, and the fact that it took him at least two cups of coffee to be coherent at any time of the day or night, the feat was, as usual, impressive.

“Hey,” she said, looking up at him, blinking against the hall lighting. “About time.”

“Did we have an appointment I was unaware of?”

She ignored his sarcasm. He didn’t bother asking her what she was doing, sleeping by his door. They both already knew the answer to that question.

“Should you be out this late on a school night?”

“What time is it?” she said, pushing her hair from her face, then covering her mouth with her fist as she yawned wide.

“Late. Or really early, depending on your view.”

She looked up at him, those sooty lashes looking even darker than usual. Could be the crappy lighting in the hall. Or the dark circles under her eyes. “You probably don’t want to hear what I think of my view at the moment.”

“Something tells me I’m going to hear it anyway.”

“You would be right. Which is one mark in that column, one lonely mark. Up against the whole pile of marks you’ve accumulated these past few months in the ‘I couldn’t be more wrong if I tried’ column.” She yawned again. “And Friday night is only technically a school night.”

“Is it Friday already?”

She narrowed her gaze. “It was. I believe it is now very early on a Saturday morning. And while I can believe you’ve lost track of the day of the week, that’s not going to save your pathetic, chickenshit ass. Unless you were really going to attempt to pull off the lie that you’ve been so caught up at work that you’ve misplaced an entire month.”

“Gee, and to think I’ve missed you all this time.”

She’d opened her mouth to make some retort, only his words stopped her. He saw a flash of . . . what? Yearning? Sorrow? Hope? Or was that all just wishful thinking on his part?

He reached out a hand, bracing himself for the contact.

She refused the help, scrambling to a stand herself.

Admittedly the snub stung, even though he knew he deserved it.

She squinted at her watch. “I can never tell which of Mickey’s hands are which. But I’m guessing it’s not ten past midnight.” She looked at him. “Which means you’ve either been putting in the heavy-duty hours Jana says you are, or I’m really lucky you came out of that elevator alone.”

He didn’t owe her an explanation, but he was too busy wondering if it would have bothered her to wake up to find some random woman pawing all over him while he fumbled to get his key in the lock to keep his mouth shut. “The former. But unlike me, you knew what day it was, so you willingly ran the risk by camping out here in the first place.” He turned away from her before he blurted out anything else. Like, there really was no risk because he never brought women home. Other women, anyway. If he wanted sex, the woman in question usually had a bed. Or a couch. Whatever. And if he didn’t want sex . . . well, then he worked. When he wanted companionship, he hung out with Lucy. And wished they were having sex, too. Couldn’t she see how perfect they’d be together?

He really needed to not be thinking about sex at all right now.

“I’m guessing you want to come in.”

She leaned against the doorframe, far too close to him for his peace of mind. Basically, anywhere in his range of vision fit that description. “Your genius never ceases to amaze.”

He didn’t want to be amused, and yet his lips twitched anyway. He’d missed her sharp-ass mouth. Dammit. He flipped on the lamp by the door and tossed his keys on the end table. His place was a mess of overworked bachelor neglect, but she’d seen it in worse shape. Another plus in her favor. No early-dating game-playing behavior would ever be necessary. On either part. “There’s beer and Coke in the fridge. Coffee in the filter. But if you make coffee, you better put in a new filter when you’re done.”

“Yeah, I know. There will be no place good enough to hide if you awaken to anything but the sound of your beloved Krups percolating. Maybe I should have snuck in here a month ago and stolen your coffeemaker. Then you’d have come after me and we could have settled this whole stupid thing.”

He felt a sudden surge of completely uncalled-for anger. He wanted to turn and shout at her that he
had
come after her, dammit! But she’d been dancing in the arms of another man. The very man who’d first shattered her tender teenage heart. Whereas Grady had done nothing but cosset and protect it. And where the fuck had that gotten him? He managed to rein it in but turned his back on her as he slid off his coat and tossed it over the living-room chair. Just in case his murderous expression might tip her off.

He had a sudden attack of the yawns, probably a self-protection reaction as much as pure fatigue. Go to bed, tomorrow is another day. And this problem standing in his living room would be but a memory. He had to get up in about five hours and head right back to work. He didn’t want to do this now. Or ever. Really.

He rubbed his stomach, which had been grumbling on the way home, but which he’d refused to heed. He’d learned the hard way that eating this late, when he was this tired, would make what little sleep he could get almost impossible. But he was suddenly as ravenous as he was tired. He didn’t want to examine that one too closely.

Hollow-eyed, he looked toward the kitchen, wondering if he should just fire up the coffeepot and shove some cold pizza in the toaster oven. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d pulled an all-nighter. But this time there was a lot more on the line than the usual. Discovering a new way to improve national security seemed simple in comparison to what he was about to face.

If only he’d invented the time machine he’d dreamed about as a kid. He could transport himself to anywhere else but right here. Right now.

Fortunately, she spoke first, relieving him of finding some way to start what was bound to be a really difficult conversation. Especially given the fact that he still had no idea how he was going to resolve the issues between them without coming out and telling her he was only acting like an ass because he was insanely jealous and hopelessly in love with her.

And he’d held off blurting out that particular fact for over a decade now. Surely he could last one more night.

“You know, for a genius rocket-scientist type who can make cameras small enough to thread through a needle—”

“Fiber optics. And I didn’t invent them. Just new ways to use them.”

She gave him the stink eye. “For an arrogant genius with nothing better to do than play with fibers, you’ve been acting monumentally stupid lately.”

“That’s it,” he said lightly, wagging a finger, “no coffee for you.” But he was having some. A few gallons at least, just to start. He walked to the kitchen, glad she was already sitting on the couch. Then he didn’t have to come within hitting distance. Sure, she had lousy aim, but why chance it?