The Arrangement Page 5

  Nick shook his head. “I went out to the loft for a while. It's a nice clear night for looking at the stars."

  Mary fixed him with a steady gaze, folding the paper slowly and deliberately, setting it aside. “Don't lie to me, Nick. I checked the barn a little while ago and we both know you weren't there."

  Nick's stomach plummeted down to his shoes. “M-Mom, I-I can—"

  "Sit down, Nick. I have a few things to say to you.” Whenever she used that familiar calm, steely tone, he suddenly felt five years old all over again. Sitting down across from her, he sucked in a deep breath and prepared for the worst. “You know, when you got engaged to Laura, I knew you didn't love her the way a man should love the girl he's going to marry. But I couldn't help feeling grateful that you'd decided to try for a normal life. I'd hoped it meant that you'd finally gotten Eric out of your system."

  "I don't think that's ever going to happen, Mom."

  "He's a married man, Nick. It's wrong, what you're doing."

  "He's been married before, and that never stopped us."

  "He wasn't married to Allison before. For heaven's sake, Nick, how could you do this to her?"

  "She knows, Mom.” He blurted it without thinking, but as soon as he did, he felt curiously relieved. “In fact, I-I'm ... involved with her too."

  "Nick!"

  "Look, I know how it sounds, but it's not like that,” he explained hastily. “It's not some sleazy sex thing. We love each other, all three of us. We didn't plan for it to happen that way, but it did, and I'm glad. For the first time in my life, I'm really, truly happy."

  She swallowed hard, closing her eyes for a moment. “How long has it been going on?"

  "Six months, give or take."

  "Oh, Nick.” She shook her head. “I don't know what to think about any of this. Call me an old prude, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't shocked and disappointed. We didn't raise you this way."

  "If it's any consolation, it wasn't easy for us at first. We had all kinds of anger and jealousy going on, though mostly we've managed to work it out. But if somebody had told me a year ago that I'd be involved in this kind of relationship, I wouldn't have believed it either."

  "So where do you see it leading?"

  "Well, I'll be living at the penthouse with Ally once Eric leaves for Washington, but I'll still keep my apartment for appearance's sake. And Ally and I plan to take turns flying back to visit Eric on alternate weekends."

  "But what about a year from now—or five years, or ten? What if Eric and Allison decide to have children? What're you going to tell them once they get old enough to wonder why Uncle Nick sleeps in the same bed with Mommy and Daddy?"

  "Then I guess we'll figure it out one way or another when the time comes. But I've already worked too hard to make this relationship work to give up on it because of some hypothetical problem way off down the road. I love Eric and Ally, and they love me. Right now that's all I care about.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I know how hard this must be for you to hear, but I really am happy, Mom. Can't you at least try to be a little bit happy for me?"

  "I want to, Nick, I really do. But I think you're making a terrible mistake."

  "Mom—"

  "I don't see how you can be happy in a relationship you've got no choice but to keep secret. You're the one who stands to lose here, Nick. Eric and Allison hold all the cards, whether you want to see that or not."

  "So what am I supposed to do? Marry some nice, sweet girl, settle down here on the farm and start having babies? That's not for me, Mom."

  "Nick, please—"

  "If I have to keep a secret so I can be with the only two people in the world besides you and Dad who've ever truly loved me, then I'll do it gladly. I'm not about to throw away the best thing in my life because you don't want to understand."

  Marching upstairs to his room, he shut the door firmly behind him. He didn't think she'd come after him, though he heard her pause on the landing outside for a few moments before she finally went back to bed herself.

  He shed his clothes and slipped between the covers naked, the warmth of the flannel sheets enveloping him. Flicking off the light, he closed his eyes with a soul-deep sigh. He never should have told her the truth; he knew she wouldn't understand. In fact, he wished he could take back their entire conversation, but for good or ill, the horse was out of the barn now. Sooner or later, she'd have to come to terms with it.

  * * * *

  Ally knocked off work early for a change, but coming home to an empty penthouse deflated her sense of good cheer. She felt a bit better after a quick dinner followed by a long soak in the tub, and had just sacked out on the couch for some serious channel surfing when Nick trudged through the front door, looking like he'd been dragged through a knothole backwards.

  "Remind me again never to volunteer for an out-of-town assignment,” he muttered, flopping down beside her, “especially if it's a casino fire in Atlantic City."

  "So location reporting's not nearly as exciting as it looks on TV, huh?"

  "Well, you make it look easy.” Groaning, he rolled his neck, letting his head drop onto the back of the couch. “It's time I admitted it—I'm a desk jockey, destined to spend my career hiding behind my byline. You can have the spotlight all to yourself."

  "Believe me, that's not as exciting as it looks either. Did you get any dinner?"

  "Yeah, I scarfed down a sandwich on the train home."

  "That's hardly what I'd call a balanced meal. There's a salad and some fresh roast beef in the fridge."

  "Nah, that's okay. I don't think I've got the energy to chew anything else."

  After a few more minutes of moaning and groaning, he managed to summon up the energy to plod back to his room, returning clad in a pair of comfy old sweats. He pulled her feet into his lap, massaging them absently as they watched TV together.

  Ally smiled softly. “You know, we act more like an old married couple than Eric and I do most of the time."

  "Is that a complaint?"

  "God, no! But considering how you're feeling tonight, maybe I should be the one rubbing your feet."

  "I'll be okay. All in a day's work, right?"

  "Not when you haven't had a day off in over a month. Why don't you come with me to visit Eric tomorrow?"

  "I can't. With Holly taking the weekend off, I'm stuck covering the city desk."

  "Well, you know he misses you. Although I should talk, considering how many times I've canceled on him myself."

  "I know. Seems like we've both been getting sidetracked a lot lately.” Sighing, he rubbed his eyes. “I'll try to figure out something soon."

  When Ally's alarm buzzed the next morning at seven, she shut it off quickly before it could wake Nick, though she needn't have worried. He lay there beside her blissfully sawing wood, his face smooshed into a pillow. She showered and dressed before slipping back to the bedroom to give him a goodbye kiss.

  His eyelids fluttered open and he gazed up at her with a heartbreakingly sweet, sleepy grin. “You leaving?"

  "Afraid so. The limo's waiting downstairs for me."

  "Let me get dressed real quick, and I'll ride along with you."

  "Oh, Nick, you don't have to do that. You're still exhausted. Go back to sleep."

  "Okay, but ... I'll miss you."

  "I'll be home Sunday night. The flight number's tacked up on the bulletin board in the kitchen, in case you want to pick me up at the airport."

  "I'll be there.” He sat up and pulled her close, kissing her deeply. “You can give that to Eric for me."

  "I think I'd rather keep it for myself."

  "Give him this one, then.” Another kiss—this one teasing and playful—and Ally knew that if she didn't get out of the bedroom now, she never would.

  Grabbing her overnight bag and laptop case, she took a quick elevator ride down to the parking garage, piling gratefully into the waiting limo. Fortunately, the morning traffic appeared light and she got through airport security with n
o trouble, then onto the Courtland Industries private jet. After a mercifully uneventful flight, Eric's own limo driver greeted her at the gate at National, and a short while later she was pulling up in front of Eric's rented condo in Georgetown.

  Eric's housekeeper, a stout, round-faced Salvadoran woman with a good, yet strongly-accented, command of English answered the door and led Ally upstairs to the bedroom. A small, square white envelope with her name scrawled on it in Eric's familiar slapdash script sat on the bedside table. She'd guessed what it said before she opened it.

  Sorry I'm not here to greet you, but I've been called into a last-minute committee meeting. I'll try not to be too late. Make yourself comfortable, and I'll see you later.

  —E.

  Her heart in the doldrums, she changed into a t-shirt and sweat pants before traipsing back downstairs. It didn't take long to make the grand tour—aside from bedroom and bath, the place consisted of a living room, kitchen and adjoining dining nook, a small office and an even smaller patio looking out on a postage-stamp-sized garden. It'd do for the short term, but if Eric expected her and Nick to spend a significant amount of time here, they'd definitely need a bigger place.

  Grabbing her laptop, she curled up on the couch with a blanket over her, idly net-surfing. The housekeeper—named Angelina, Ally soon learned—brought her hot tea with a wedge of delicious homemade lemon cake and kept checking on her so diligently, all the attention made Ally blush.

  Around four o'clock her cell phone rang, with Eric's number popping up on the caller ID. “Hey there. I got your note. I assume your meeting's still going on?"

  "Yes, unfortunately,” he replied, weariness all too apparent in his tone. “We're taking a short dinner break now."

  "Oh, so you won't...” No point in actually saying it. She should've known he'd be tied up all day. “Any idea when I should be expecting you?"

  "If I'm not home by ten, go to bed and we'll talk in the morning."

  "Oh, to hell with that! I came all the way down here to see you, so you'd damn well better wake me up."

  At least that got a chortle out of him. “Well, if you insist. But I can't promise I'll be up for anything."

  "Just get your work done and get home, okay?"

  "I'll do my best,” he said, and hung up.

  Bored with web surfing, she shut her laptop and picked out a paperback from a nearby shelf, skimming it until Angelina called her in to dinner. She'd only taken a few tentative bites of her steaming bowl of beef and vegetable stew when her phone rang again, her producer's number flashing madly in the LCD display.

  Oh, God. Why the hell was he calling her now, on the first weekend she'd had off since Christmas? For a few seconds, she considered blowing him off, for all the good it'd do; he'd keep on calling every ten minutes until she answered. Stifling a groan, she hit the send button.

  "Hey, Tony,” she piped, forcing her most upbeat, can-do tone. “What's going on?"

  "Ally! Man, am I glad I caught you! Got a couple minutes?"

  "I'm all ears.” Except for her stomach, which of course had to choose that precise moment to start grumbling.

  "Listen, I just heard from Bob Richardson over in news programming. They're putting together this new Sunday morning political talk show over at the Washington bureau, and your name's on the short list of possible anchors."

  "Wh-what? When did this happen? Nobody's said a word to me about it."

  "Me neither, until a few minutes ago. But apparently with your connections, the network's considering you a prime candidate—that is, if you want the job."

  God, like they had to ask? She'd gladly commit murder for a job like this! “W-Well, if they're considering me, I'll certainly consider them."

  "I'll pass along the word to Bob. He'll probably give you a call next week."

  Far too excited to eat now, she nonetheless made herself swallow a few bites of the stew, then spent the rest of the evening flicking channels on the TV and running back and forth to the window, wishing Eric home through sheer force of will. By the time he came through the door around nine p.m., she was bouncing off the walls.

  Throwing her arms around him, she kissed him so hard she nearly knocked them both off their feet. “Looks like someone's anxious to see me,” he observed dryly.

  "C'mon in the kitchen and have something to eat while I tell you my news,” she said, grabbing his hand, tugging him along behind her.

  He had a small plate of spinach salad and a glass of white wine while she related what Tony had told her, one eyebrow arched in approval. “Sounds like an impressive step up for your career, if it actually comes to pass."

  "I know. And I'm trying not to get my hopes up, but still, can you imagine—me, with my own show? And if it's broadcast from DC, I can move here with you full-time."

  "I think you're forgetting something—or rather, someone."

  Now she remembered, and her heart lurched. “Nick."

  "Exactly.” He swirled the wine in his glass. “As if our relationship wasn't complicated enough."

  "Look, there's no reason to be concerned yet, not when I haven't even talked to the people in charge. We can sit down and discuss it seriously, all three of us, once it's a done deal.” Her stomach grumbling again, she snaked her hand across the table, stealing a leaf of spinach from his plate. “And now I should probably shut up and let you tell me about your day."

  "There's not much to tell. Just another endless picking-apart of the finance committee's latest bill, which we'll vote on and probably pass Monday. Then it'll go to the full Senate, which will either vote it down or send it back to committee for more revisions. And of course, there's always the possibility that it could get stalled or killed outright at any point in the process."

  "Jesus,” she breathed. “If I had to do that every day, I wouldn't have a strand of hair left on my head."

  "Believe me, I now know where the phrase ‘exercise in futility’ comes from."

  "And you're not used to that. To not succeeding at everything you do, I mean."

  "You're in an observant mood this evening,” he said, a hint of irritation creeping into his tone.

  "It's an occupational hazard, I'm afraid."

  "Just my luck.” He sighed. “When I ran Courtland Industries, I made company-wide decisions with the stroke of a pen. If the board of directors gave me any trouble, most of the time I had no problem bringing them around to my way of thinking. I've always worked hard and I've always shown results. But to work so hard now and have nothing to show for it but a few prominently-placed noses I've managed to put out of joint along the way ... Well, it's galling in the extreme."

  "Now I can see why you haven't made it home for a visit yet, but honestly, Eric, you can't keep up this pace forever. You only took office two months ago. Nobody expects you to be Superman."

  "Not outside the bedroom, anyway,” he replied with a smile. “Speaking of which..."

  They climbed the stairs hand in hand and fell into the soft bed, kissing slowly and deeply. Letting her hand drift down, she unzipped his fly and reached inside, surprised to discover him only half hard. Stroking him with her fingers didn't help, so she tried going down on him, but even her best sucking, licking and tongue flicking failed to give him a lift.

  Finally he pushed her away, rolling onto his back, one arm flung over his eyes. “I'm obviously more tired than I thought."

  "That's okay. I'll take a rain check for tomorrow morning."

  "If you like, I'd be more than happy to give you a sound tongue-lashing."

  She laughed. “I'd rather wait. It's more fun when we both come. Although I do have one special request..."

  "What's that?"

  Snuggling up to him, she whispered, “I've been dying to re-enact our wild wedding night."

  "You want me to tie you up?” Lowering his arm, he opened first one eye, then the other. “In that case, it's a good thing you're letting me get some sleep first. Only I don't think I've got the right kind of rope here."
<
br />   "I brought some along in my suitcase."

  Now he laughed. “You certainly came prepared, didn't you?"

  "Not yet.” She grinned. “But believe me, I will."

  * * * *

  Eric strode to the window for the umpteenth time, flicking the curtain back impatiently. Closing in on midnight, and still no sign of Nick. Not that that was much of a surprise, but Nick usually called whenever another one of his unavoidable work emergencies came up—or failing that, asked Allison to call for him. Since they'd now gone close to three months without seeing each other, Eric expected the phone to ring any second.

  Instead, he heard a soft rap at the door. He rose to answer it, his heart skidding in his chest when he saw Nick standing there on the doorstep, overnight bag in hand, sporting his biggest, toothiest grin. Eric scarcely had time to get the door shut before he found himself enfolded in Nick's strong embrace, followed by the world's most toe-curling kiss.

  "I-I was starting to think you weren't going to show again,” Eric gasped once they finally broke apart.

  "I know I should've called, but I got roped into helping Holly finish one of her stories, so I ended up taking a later flight. I didn't mean for you to worry."

  "It's all right, I'm just glad you're here. Did you follow those directions I gave you?"

  He nodded. “I had the cab drop me a couple of streets over and walked the rest of the way."

  "Good,” Eric said, taking Nick's hand, bringing it up to brush against his cheek. “So, are you hungry?"

  "You have no idea.” Nick grinned, with an evil, predatory light in his eyes that Eric absolutely adored. “Which way's the bedroom?"

  They tore upstairs with such abandon Eric thought they must've left skid marks on the carpet, not to mention the bedroom door. Nick shoved him up against it, kissing him so urgently Eric felt as if he had a fever, but it was only the heat generated from Nick shucking his own clothes, then whipping Eric's robe off. More breathless, frenzied kisses, and Eric landed flat on his back on the bed with Nick looming over him. Eric yanked him down and hung on tight, craving skin-to-skin contact like an addict yearned for his next fix.