A Different Kind of Forever(39)
“There’s a lake in Mendham? I never knew that.” She was surprised. She had been there often, antiquing. It was a small, wealthy community surrounded by woods and horse farms.
“Well, there’s a lake where I live.” He looked sheepish.
“You own a lake?” She asked carefully.
“Well, kind of. My neighbors and I do. There are four of us.”
“Wow. Your own personal lake.” She ate a fistful of grapes slowly.
“I didn’t make any money until the second CD,” Michael explained. “My Dad took one look at the check I got when it went platinum and told me it was time to move out of his house. I was twenty-one. A friend of his, a judge, was selling his place. My father and I drove out to Mendham and bought it. The house was a mess, so I knocked it down. Nick found an architect for me. We’d been to Japan on the first tour, and the buildings blew me away. So I had a house built, and a dock, and bought a boat ‘cause I always wanted to sail.”
“Who takes care of everything while you’re on the road?”
“I have a guy, named Fred Chu. He was an old client of my father’s. Immigration problems, I think. He looks after the house, feeds Max, and organizes all the other guys.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Other guys?”
“Well, there’s a guy for the yard, a guy who cleans the house, a guy who looks after the cars, a pool guy, and a boat guy.” She had started to laugh, and he was shaking his head, laughing with her.
“I know, it sounds ridiculous. I mean, it’s just me and the dog, right?”
“Man, being a rich celebrity really sucks, Michael.”
“Oh, you know it.” He put down his wine glass and began to crawl to her side of the couch. She spread her legs and he lay between them and kissed her, hard. She sank deeper into the couch, wrapping her legs around him, her arms creeping around his neck.
“Would you like to stay here tonight?” She asked.
“Yes. Absolutely. Although the original plan was to wine you and dine you, then take you to my place.”
“You had a plan?”
“Of course. Waiting at home are three bottles of champagne and a closet full of rubbers.”
“A whole closet full? Your recuperative powers must be impressive.”
“Very. Someday I’ll write a song about it.”
“Wow. So, do you mind going to plan B?”
“Not at all. In fact,” he said, the corner of his mouth curling into a smile, “I happen to have a toothbrush in my glove compartment.”
She kissed his neck. “Really?”
“Yeah. I’m something of an optimist.” His hands were back beneath her dress. He was kissing her as she began to move her hips against him.”
“It would seem,” he said softly, “that you aren’t wearing anything under your dress.”
“That’s right,” she said. “I’m something of an optimist too.”
She began pulling his shirt away, tugging at his jeans, and she stopped and looked at him. “I do have a bed, you know,” she told him.
“I know,” he replied, kicking his jeans to the floor. “Don’t worry, we’ll get to it.”
And they began again.
In the morning, they left the house early. There was a beautifully restored Volkswagen convertible bug sitting in Diane’s driveway. She stared at it, delighted.
“This is yours?” she asked. “It’s perfect. Can I drive?”
They put the top down, she slid behind the wheel and Michael found his cell phone in the back seat and began to check messages. They stopped for breakfast at a diner, then went back up Rt. 24, through Morristown, and on to Mendham. Michael talked on his cell phone, and Diane drove happily, the wind whipping her hair. He directed her off the main road, winding through quiet country, until she turned up a narrow drive, gently rising, with a grove of massive pines offering only a glimpse of a house set far back from the road.
Michael’s house was long and low. She stopped the car before a tall, red, double doors and they got out.
“Your house is beautiful, Michael.”
“Thanks. I really love it.”
They walked into a low-ceilinged foyer that opened to a large, lofty space, glass walls opening to a pool and a stretch of blue water beyond. Diane caught her breath. It was beautiful, the room, with its stark, elegant furnishings, and the view, bright and glittering.