Shadows At Sunset - Anne Stuart [58]
“Don’t be silly, darling. You know I’ll worship you till the day I…” She let the sentence trail off. She couldn’t worship him until the day she died—that day had long passed. “I think Coltrane will be perfect for Jilly. That was definitely the best orgasm I’ve ever watched her have.”
“Voyeur,” Ted said again lazily.
“You, too, darling. We have our own real-life television show here, and it’s a lot more interesting than some of the things the girls watch. Why would someone be obsessed with weather?”
“At least it makes more sense than street addresses. Melrose isn’t even in a decent neighborhood. Stop trying to distract me, honeybunch. I don’t trust Coltrane.”
“Well, of course not,” Brenda murmured. “I never said he was trustworthy. Some of the most interesting men are far from trustworthy. But I think he’s got potential. Just a little redemption and he’ll suit Jilly very well.”
“Not Rachel-Ann?”
Brenda shook her head. “Not Rachel-Ann.”
“Should we do anything about Jilly?”
“She’s upstairs sitting in the shower, crying. She does that sometimes, when she thinks no one can hear her.”
“Maybe I ought to go see….” Ted suggested, and Brenda hit him.
“You keep your filthy mind off her, darling. I know you’re infatuated with her, but I’ve already claimed you.”
He smiled at her. “So you have. Just teasing, my precious. I don’t want to see anyone curled up in the shower.”
“Besides, she’s still in her nightclothes.”
“They’d cling quite nicely. I always liked a statuesque woman.”
Brenda, a full five feet tall, hit him in the shoulder. “Behave yourself. Jilly will be fine in the shower. In a few minutes she’ll turn off the water and throw herself into bed, where she’ll probably sleep for hours.”
“And Coltrane?” He jerked his head toward the man who was still sitting on the sofa, watching the sun rise past the windows, a distant expression on his face.
“Oh, he’ll be fine, as well. He’s just got something to think about. Things aren’t going according to his plan. I love it when that happens.”
“Tell me, honeybunch, are you privy to his plans?” Ted asked dryly.
“I can’t read minds, darling. I only know that when he came into this house he had a clear agenda, and that’s been shot to hell. It makes things even more interesting.”
“A little too interesting, if you ask me,” Ted said. “I think I liked it best when the place was deserted. Then I had you to myself.”
Brenda smiled at him. “You still have me all to yourself, darling. You always will.” And she leaned down to kiss him, nibbling lightly on his mustache.
The light was filtering in through the miniblinds, sending stripes of sunshine across the mattress. Rachel-Ann didn’t want to wake up. It seemed as if she’d never been so comfortable in her entire life. She felt cushioned, cradled by the mattress. The temperature was perfect, neither too hot nor too cold; the scent of coffee on the air gave an added aura of comfort.
She opened her eyes, unmoving, focusing on the details of the apartment. She was alone in the bed, and in the kitchen she could hear someone moving around. Rico.
She closed her eyes, trying to will herself back to sleep. She usually left after she’d had sex, slipping out of the apartment or hotel room without a word the moment her partner had fallen into an exhausted slumber.
But this time she was the one who’d slept like the dead. And, in fact, they hadn’t had sex. They hadn’t even kissed. She’d slept in the safety of his arms, and for some reason she felt more raw and exposed than if she’d danced naked on his coffee table.
She didn’t want to face him. She’d pretend to sleep, wait until he left and then sneak out. She wouldn’t ever have to see him again—she hated those AA meetings, anyway, and if she ever decided to go to another one she could avoid the ones at the Unitarian church, head farther west and find other ones. God knows AA meetings were like rabbits—they multiplied like crazy. You couldn’t walk two feet without tripping over one.
She heard him coming out of the kitchen,