She was a coward. Running away like she was guilty of some crime and not wanting to face what she’d done. Maybe at some future date, she’d be able to face Ty again. Maybe next week, or next month, or next year, she’d be able to be in the same room with him and not recall the excruciatingly painful details of kissing him and touching him and wanting him more than she could ever recall wanting a man. His pushing her away and his wide shoulders and dark head as he’d left her in the hall, alone and confused.
She would have to see him again, of course. But not today. She just couldn’t face seeing him on the flight back from San Jose. Probably not tomorrow either, when her behavior and his rejection would still be so fresh in her head.
She was definitely a coward, but feeling like a coward didn’t compare to feeling like she’d betrayed her husband. After she’d kissed Ty and made a fool out of herself, she’d gone to bed and lain awake all night with a horrible churning guilt plaguing her and burning a hole in her stomach. Virgil was dead, but she still felt married. Felt like that kiss—that hot, consuming kiss she’d shared with Ty—was a knife to the back of her dead husband. Not because it had been so bad, but because it had been so good. So good she might have done anything to make it last. To make it burn hotter and longer. To drink him in and suck him up and feel things for him she’d never felt for Virgil. Hot, achy things she wanted to do with a man who did hot, achy things to her.
She gathered her jacket and hatbox from the overhead and moved toward the gangway. It was after noon the next day, but she still was as embarrassed and confused as she had been standing outside her hotel room watching Ty walk away. How could he have left her? He’d been as turned on as she was. She’d felt his extremely hard erection pressed against her, and yet he’d been able to walk away. And as humiliating as that was to face, thank God he had. Waking up naked with one of her hockey players was so extremely wrong. Way beyond acceptable. He worked for her. Good Lord, he could probably sue her for workplace harassment or something. What a disaster.
She shoved her arms through her jacket sleeves and hung her purse on her shoulder. So, how had it happened? With him? Of all people? There was only one possible explanation.
Layla.
The part of her she’d created to deal with the harsher realities of her life as a stripper. The woman she’d created who didn’t mind a lap dance because the money was good. The woman who’d partied till the sun came up and loved a good tequila shooter. The part of her that liked good, hot, sweaty sex with a beautiful man.
She was Mrs. Duffy now. She didn’t need Layla anymore. Layla was trouble.
Her Louis Vuitton wheelie waited for her at the carousel and she pulled it to long-term parking.
Her neck and shoulder ached from the long flight and she had a difficult time shoving the piece of luggage into the trunk of her Bentley. By the time she made it to her condo, she wanted nothing more than to climb into bed and pull the covers over her head.
Pebbles’s yippy bark greeted her as she opened the door to her apartment. She picked up her hatbox and wheeled her suitcase inside. The drapes were drawn across the wall of windows overlooking Elliott Bay, casting the great room in inky shadow. The gas fireplace licked the fake logs and Marvin Gaye’s smooth “Let’s Get It On” purred from the speakers of her sound system.
“Mom?” she called out as she moved into the room and hit a bank of lights.
“Faith!” Her mom rose to her knees in the middle of the living room floor. A man knelt behind her, and except for their shocked expressions, they were both completely naked.
“Oh!” She spun around to face a blank wall as her shock buzzed her tired brain. “Oh my God!”
“What are you doing here?”
“I live here!” While Marvin sang about not beating around the bush, her cheeks burned with the horror at what she’d glimpsed. Walking in on her mother was just as disturbing now as when she was fourteen. And ten. And seven. Hell, pick a year. She pointed behind her. “Who the hell is this?”
“Pavel Savage,” the man said.
Her mouth fell open as she stared at the rough texture and latte-colored paint on the wall in front of her face. “Ty’s father?”
“You weren’t supposed to be back until tonight,” her mother accused.
“What does that have to do with anything? You’re having sex. In my living room.” Oh God. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing’s wrong with me.”
“With one of my hockey players’ dads!” she continued, placing a hand on her hot cheek. And not just any hockey player’s dad. The father of the hockey player she’d made out with the night before.
“We’re adults, Faith.”
“I don’t care.”
“You can turn around now.”
Slowly, while Marvin purred about “being sanctified,” she turned as if she didn’t trust what she might see. Her mother had slipped into a red silk robe while Pavel zipped up his jeans.
“I thought Sandy was staying with you.”
“She went back home.
Pavel moved toward her and offered his hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Faith.”
She pulled her hands behind her back and shook her head. “Maybe some other time. You just had your hands…You know.”
“Faith!” Her mother gasped as if her daughter had done something to be mortified over.
Pavel tilted his dark head back and creases wrinkled the corners of his blue eyes as he laughed. Except for the creases and the laugher, he looked a lot like his son. “I understand.” He reached for the black shirt thrown across the back of the couch. “How was the trip?”
“What?” He wanted to know about her trip? God, these people weren’t normal.
“How is his ankle holding up?”
“What?” she asked again. Her mother had been in town less than two weeks and she was already having sex in Faith’s home. Faith had never even had sex in the penthouse.
“How is Ty’s ankle holding up?”
“Oh. Uh. I don’t know. I had to leave before they played. I felt sick and came home.”
“What’s wrong with you?” her mother wanted to know.
“I’m coming down with something.”
Pavel buttoned his shirt. “I hear the flu is going around. Perhaps you need to rest and drink lots of fluids.”
Was she really standing here talking to Ty’s father about the flu? While he got dressed?
“Maybe you should sit down.” Her mother put her hand on Faith’s forehead. “You do feel hot.”
That’s because her blood had rushed to her head. She swatted her mother’s hand away. “I’m fine.” Or at least she would be if and when she could get over the last twenty-four hours.
“I’m sorry, Pavel,” Valerie said as she moved to the sound system and turned off Marvin.
She was sorry,
Pavel? Faith just caught her mom naked on her hands and knees. Something a child should never see, and she wanted to stab out her own eyes. What about I’m sorry,
Faith?
“Not to worry, Val.” He tucked his shirt into his pants. “We will have many more enjoyable times together.” He shoved his feet into a pair of boots and grabbed his leather jacket.
“Next time we’ll get a hotel,” Valerie promised as she walked Pavel to the door.
“Please do that.” Faith picked up her hatbox and wheeled her suitcase down the hall toward her room. Just before she shut the door to her room, she could swear she heard them kissing. She tossed her hatbox on the bed, unzipped it, and took out her clean underwear. Years ago she’d lost luggage and now she always carried her jewelry and other essentials on a commercial flight with her.