Stone Cold Fox (74)

“That sounds like Collin.”

“Does it?”

“Gale’s always thought so.”

“Ha. Ha.” He was teasing me on purpose. He liked that I was married. He liked that I hated Gale. He liked this game we were playing. Truthfully, I did, too. He put a key in the door. I noticed it was the only door on the floor. The penthouse. “So where’s the broker?” I asked him.

“Not here,” Dave said, walking in the door. I followed him inside, elated to be alone. The apartment was stunning. No town house, but nothing to sniff at either. Three beds, three baths, and I wanted to have sex with him in all of them. Plentiful views through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Lots of concrete and metal and matte finishes. It was harsh and industrial. What we deserved.

“What do you think?” Dave asked me, looking around like an inspector.

“It’s all right,” I said, nonchalant. “Lots of hard edges.”

“No children here. I don’t see the problem.”

“It’s fine. If you like that sort of thing.”

“I do.” Dave leaned over the counter in the kitchen, looking like a real cad. “That’s why I bought it. You were right. I couldn’t wait until Friday.”

“So you just invited me over to your home?”

“Looks like it.” He grinned. What a brazen little hussy. I was gagging for him to make a move.

“Hmm. Well, it’s definitely an upgrade from Gale’s guest room.”

“You girls and your beef.” He laughed.

“She started it. I had no issue with her until she started meddling in my relationship. Tell me, why do you all have this inexplicable unfailing loyalty to her?”

“All of who?”

“The guys,” I replied. “Gale is the only gal in the bunch. So she’s a real ‘guys’ girl,’ right? As if there could be anything worse.” As I said that aloud, it was the first time I realized Gale and I might have had something in common other than Collin. She didn’t have any girlfriends either.

“Worse than having no friends at all?” he asked pointedly, opening the refrigerator. He pulled out two beers and I laughed out loud at him. Why didn’t we just have a loaf of bread? I pranced over to him and took one of the beers out of his hand, delicately placing it back from whence it came.

“Quality over quantity is my policy,” I told him, opening the freezer in search of vodka. As predicted, Dave had a bottle of Belvedere that beckoned. Good man.

“Allow me,” he said, taking the bottle from my hands, pouring two fingers into a crystal lowball. “No mixer I assume?”

“Correct.” Why hadn’t he pounced on me yet?

“So does Collin think you’re at lunch?” he asked me.

“Collin and I don’t eat together every day like we’re in the high school cafeteria. He has a job. I have a job. I often take a working lunch. I’m a very, very busy advertising professional. Why do you keep bringing him up?”

“Making observations.”

“And?” The vodka was going down way too easy on that fine Friday afternoon.

“You don’t seem that affected at all by my mentioning him,” Dave said.

“You’re testing me?”

He laughed and clinked his bottle against my glass. “I’m not, but if I were, you’d definitely pass.”

“I always do,” I said, no shame.

“So why’d you marry him, Bea?” Dave was getting closer again. He pulled out a barstool, urging me to sit down next to him. I perched on the counter instead, crossing my legs, leaning back on my hands, arching my back. A position of seduction. A total tease.

“He’s perfectly marriable, don’t you think? Checks a lot of boxes? A bachelor of the most eligible kind. He’s a catch.”

“That’s true. I love the guy. He’s one of the good ones. The rest of us? We all got something.”

“Even you?”

“Especially me. Look at me. I’m here with you. You’re married to one of my oldest friends. That’s pretty messed up. Right? Kinda sick?” It absolutely was and I knew that’s why I loved it so much. The shame would have to be dealt with later. It was nowhere to be found in that apartment.

“So why are you here with me?” I lowered my voice to a whisper, knowing it would drive him crazy. “Just because I’m married to Collin?”

“No. I like it, but that’s not the only reason.”

“So?”

“Look at you,” he said breathlessly. Dave stood up from the barstool, putting his hands on my hips. God, he was so impossibly sexy. It felt like we were in an erotic thriller from the nineties. The best kind.

“Hey.” I pushed his hands off me to keep dangling that juicy fruit. “I’m not sure I can do this to Collin, even though I’ve been terribly neglected in that area.” I leaned to the side to grab my drink, finishing it, my lipstick lingering on the glass.

“If that’s true, then Collin’s an idiot.” Dave clutched his beer bottle even tighter, viscerally irritated that my husband wasn’t having his way with me on the regular. It was hard to disagree. “How he doesn’t have his hands all over you twenty-four seven is insane. He doesn’t deserve you, Bea. And hey, you know, I probably don’t either, but I can guarantee that we’d have a good fuckin’ time.”