Fancy Pants (Wynette, Texas #1)(111)

Gerry reached out to touch her, but physical contact with him tended to cloud her thinking, so she jerked her arm away before he could make contact. “Keep your hands to yourself, buster.” She had survived these last few months without him very nicely, and she wasn't going to have a relapse now. She was too old to die twice in one year from a broken heart.

“Don't you think this separation has gone on long enough?” he said. “I miss you.”

She gave him her coolest stare. “What's wrong? Can't you get your face on television, now that we're not an item anymore?” She used to love the way those dark curls brushed along the back of his neck. She remembered the texture of those curls—soft and silky. She would wrap them around her finger, touch them with her lips.

“Don't start on this, Holly Grace.”

“Won't anybody let you make speeches on the nightly news, now that we've broken up?” she said nastily. “You really played our affair for all it was worth, didn't you? While I was mooning over you like a stupid fool, you were sending out press releases.”

“You're really starting to piss me off. I love you, Holly Grace. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone in my life. We had something good going.”

He was doing it. He was breaking her heart again. “The only good thing we had going was sex,” she said fiercely.

“We had a hell of a lot more than sex!”

“Such as what? I don't like your friends, and I sure as hell don't like your politics. Besides, you know I hate Jews.”

Gerry groaned and slumped down on the couch. “Oh, God, here we go again.”

“I'm a dedicated anti-Semite. I really am, Gerry. I'm from Texas. I hate Jews, I hate blacks, and I think all gay men should be put in prison. Now what kind of future would I have with a left-wing pinko like you?”

“You don't hate Jews,” Gerry said reasonably, as if he were speaking to a child. “And three years ago you signed a gay rights petition that was published in every newspaper in New York, and the year after that you had a highly publicized affair with a certain wide receiver for the Pittsburgh Steelers.”

“He was very light-skinned,” Holly Grace countered. “And he always voted Republican.”

Slowly he got up from the couch, his expression both troubled and tender. “Look, babe, I can't give up my politics, not even for you. I know you don't approve of our approach—”

“All of you people are so goddamn sanctimonious,” she hissed. “You treat anyone who doesn't agree with your methods like a warmonger. Well, I've got news for you, buddy boy. No sane person likes living with nuclear weapons, but not everybody thinks it's a terrific idea for us to throw all our missiles away while the Soviets are still sitting on top of a whole toy box full of their own.”

“Don't you think the Soviets—”

“I'm not listening to you.” She grabbed her purse and called out for Teddy. Dallie had been right every one of those times he'd told her money couldn't buy happiness. She was thirty-seven years old and she wanted to nest. She wanted a baby while she could still have one, and she wanted a husband who loved her for herself, not just for the publicity she brought him.

“Holly Grace, please—”

“You go f*ck yourself.”

“Goddammit!” He grabbed her then, pulled her into his arms, and pressed his mouth to hers in a gesture that wasn't so much a kiss as a way of distracting himself from his desire to shake her until her teeth rattled. They were the same height, and Holly Grace worked out with weights, so Gerry had to use considerable strength to pin her arms to her sides. She finally stopped struggling so that he could work her over with his mouth the way he wanted to—the way she liked. Finally her lips parted enough so that he could slip his tongue inside.

“Come on, babe,” he whispered. “Love me back.”

She did, just for a moment, until she realized what she was doing. When Gerry felt her stiffen, he immediately slid his mouth to her neck where he took a long, sucking bite.

“You did it to me again,” she yelped, squirming away from him and clasping her neck.

He had put his mark on her deliberately and he didn't apologize. “Every time you look at that mark, I want you to remember that you're throwing away the best thing that's ever happened to either one of us.”

Holly Grace gave him a furious glare and then spun around toward Teddy, who had just come into the room with Naomi. “Get your coat and tell Naomi good-bye.”

“But Holly Grace—” Teddy protested.

“Now!” She bundled Teddy into his coat, grabbed her own, and propelled the two of them out the door without looking back.

As they disappeared, Gerry avoided the displeasure in his sister's eyes by pretending to study a metal sculpture on the mantel. Even though he was forty-two, he wasn't used to being the mature one in a relationship. He was used to women who mothered him, who agreed with his opinions, who cleaned his apartment. He wasn't used to a prickly Texas beauty who could outdrink him any day of the week and who would laugh in his face if he asked her to run a small load of wash. He loved her so much he felt as if a part of him had walked out of the house with her. What was he going to do? He couldn't deny that he'd taken advantage of the publicity from their affair. It was instinctive—the way he did things. For the past few years, the media had ignored his best efforts to draw attention to the cause, and it wasn't in his nature to turn his back on free publicity. Why couldn't she understand that it didn't have a damned thing to do with loving her—he was just seizing his opportunities as he'd always done.