“Oh god,” he whispered, bending to scoop me into his arms and shower me with kisses. I put my arms around his neck, letting him hold me like a baby as he sank to the tub floor with me in his arms, resting my cheek against the rise and fall of his chest. “I love you so much, Janie girl. So very much.”
I nodded, closing my eyes. I loved him, too, I did. I loved them both. I loved them so much I didn’t know what I would do without them in my life.
The water had gone from hot to warm, and I knew it was going to run to cold soon and force us out, but for that moment, we were content, holding onto each other and rocking together.
“Wow.” Josh’s eyes lit up and he gave a low wolf-whistle when I stepped out onto the porch. I couldn’t help the rush of blood to my face-and to other parts of my body-
when I saw his rapacious look. “Is red the new black?”
“Everything is the new black.” I rolled my eyes, but I glanced down at my dress-
it was a short, sexy red number with a sweetheart neckline and wide shoulder straps.
The best part was the fully ruched torso that fit me like a second skin. I pulled my wrap up across my shoulders, now that he’d had the full effect. It was a warm night, almost summer-like, but my shoulders were bare and it would grow cool later in the evening.
“Who would have thought more material would be sexier?” he mused as I followed him to the car. No limo-this was a brand new Mustang GT, sleek and black, riding low to the ground. “So how you feeling, Just-Janie?”
I smiled as he opened the passenger door for me. “No longer hungover, thankfully.”
“Well, let’s see if we can fix that.” He winked as he shut the my door, trotting around the front of the car to get into the driver’s side.
“I am definitely not getting drunk tonight,” I informed him as the car purred to life and I put on my seat belt. “Apparently, I do stupid things when I’m drunk.”
He chuckled, buckling up too. “Well we can’t have that.”
I watched as he shifted-it was a stick-and the vehicle responded immediately.
“Nice car.”
“She’s a sweet ride.” He shifted again as he neared the stop sign at the end of our street.
“Why do men always talk about cars as if they’re women?” I wondered aloud.
“Because they are.” He turned left.
“How can you tell?” I snorted, opening my purse and finding a box of Altoids. “Did you turn it over and look?”
“Did you see this beauty?” Josh asked, incredulous, glancing over as I opened the tin and dug out a breath mint. “The lines, the curves… she’s a looker, this one. Stunning.”
“Really?” I sucked on the breath mint, wincing at the intensity. They were, indeed, ‘curiously strong.’ “Are we still talking about a car?”
He grinned. “She’s fast and reliable, but she can be high maintenance.” He shifted to slow down at a light, the engine going from low roar to easy rumble.
“Sometimes you have to sweet-talk her to get her to go where you want her to…”
“Well, jeez, does she put out too?”
He grinned. “That depends on your definition.”
“Well if a car is a woman…” I offered him an Altoid. He shook his head, watching me plunk the tin back into my purse. “One good thing… no PMS.”
He laughed. “True enough.”
I turned to look at his profile as he drove, heading out onto the highway now. I couldn’t decide if I liked him better cleaned up and dressed in a suit or in his pajamas with his hair all mussed. Both had their appeal.
“So Josh…” I hesitated, knowing what I wanted to ask, but not sure I should.
“So Janie…” he countered, weaving effortlessly through traffic.
“Does Catherine know you’re seeing me tonight?” I asked the question quickly, like pulling off a Band-Aid.
He shifted and the car sped up, thundering in response. We were in the fast lane, now.
“No,” he answered finally.
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “She doesn’t tell me about her dates.”
“Tit for tat?” I grinned when he gave me a sly look. “Just an expression. So… have you ever been on a date before, then?”
He gave me another look and I laughed. “I mean, while you've been married to her?”
“No.”
I nodded. Just as Catherine had suspected. “So I’m the first?”
“You are,” he agreed. Traffic was getting more congested the closer we got to the city. I glanced at the clock on the dash, but we had plenty of time to get to dinner.
“How come?” I asked finally. “I mean… a guy like you… I’m sure you've had plenty of other opportunities.”
“You think?” A small smile played on his lips.
“Well, if I was a guy whose wife said go ahead, fuck anyone you want, I think I’d be like a kid in a candy store…”
“Would you?” He smiled fully then, glancing over at me, eyes dancing. “You’re an adventurer, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, that’s me, an adventurer.” I waggled my eyebrows. “Just call me Pirate-Janie. Argh.”
“I think I like Just-Janie better.” He winked. “But I wouldn’t object to a pirate outfit.
Maybe an eye patch, a ruffled shirt, a little skirt…”
“Of course.” I shook my head, smiling. “But really…why haven’t you?”
“I guess I’m not like that.”
I snorted. “All guys are like that.”
“I hope you don’t convey that stereotype in your fiction,” he remarked, raising an eyebrow in my direction.
“Oh come on, Mr. Cars-Are-Like-Women…” I rolled my eyes. “You can’t tell me you haven’t been tempted?”
“Tempted?” he asked. “Sure. But it’s a long way between tempted and… well… this.”
I nodded. “So what makes you take that huge leap between tempted and… this.”
“I think my profession has made me… particular,” he said finally.
“In what way?
“In spite of what you or Jim Carrey may think about agents.” He gave me a sideways glance. “We have to be very discerning. We know what we like when we see it.”
“So what are you saying…?” I cocked my head, looking over at him as he pulled off onto the freeway exit ramp. “That in the entire city of New York, you haven’t found a woman you wanted to go to bed with?”
“Yes.” The car growled lowly as we idled in New York traffic. “Until now, anyway.”
Our eyes met and I thought I might melt through the floor. The way he looked at me made my whole body fill with heat. It was like something had sparked at our first
meeting that had quickly kindled into wildfire. It was burning out of control. Someone honked behind us and Josh shifted his attention back to the road.
“Have you ever been to Masa?” he asked as we pulled up to the Time Warner building.
“No.” I didn’t know anyone who had ever been to Masa-at least, not to Masa proper. A few of TJ’s friends talked about going to Bar Masa, which was like the upper-middle-class version. To go to Masa, you didn’t just have to have money, you had to be practically made of it.
“Well, I hope you like sushi.” Josh braked, shifted and opened his door. “Josh Wickham,” he told the valet, handing over his keys as my door was opened by another valet, who extended his hand. I took it, letting him help me out.