Strange Bedpersons. Jennifer Crusie

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      She looked like a Gap ad, although he knew better than to tell her that. Her short red hair curled around her pale face, and her eyes were huge and placating as she smiled at him in apology. Her oversize navy T-shirt hung just to her hips over a navy cotton mini skirt, and she was wearing that god-awful baggy navy tweed jacket she loved. It was worn so thin that it fluttered as she walked toward him, but for once, he didn’t care. He felt good just looking at her.

      Suddenly the thought of a life with her had a lot more promise.

      “I’m sorry,” she said when she reached him. “I really am.”

      “Relax,” he said, keeping his arms folded so he wouldn’t reach for her. “We’ve got time.”

      Tess stopped and put her hands on her hips. “You said four at the latest.”

      “That’s because I knew you’d be late.” Nick looked at his Rolex. “But now we do have to get moving. Tell me you’re packed.”

      “I’m packed,” Tess said, giving up as she moved past him to unlock her door. “I can’t believe you set me up like this.”

      Nick picked up his suitcase and followed her into the apartment. “So what was it? No, let me guess. You were at the Foundation. Some kid needed help.”

      Tess grinned at him. “All right. Big deal. You know me.”

      “Remember that.” Nick looked around and sighed when he saw her bulging duffel on the couch. “I thought so. Give me that damn thing. I am not taking that to Kentucky.” Tess handed him the bag, and he frowned at her jacket. Her clothes were impossible. “Could we lose the jacket, too, just for the weekend?”

      “Oh, don’t be so snotty.” Tess smoothed her worn sleeve with love. “This is a great jacket. It’s very practical and it never wears out. And it has memories.”

      “Probably more than you do,” Nick said. “It’s been around a lot longer than you have.” He dumped the duffel on Tess’s rickety dining-room table and opened his suitcase beside it. Then he began transferring her clothes to his suitcase. “Of course, on you the jacket looks great, but anything looks great on you.”

      “Save the snake oil.” Tess grinned at him. “I love this jacket. It’s me. I’m wearing it.”

      “Okay, fine. Whatever makes you happy.” Nick folded the last of her clothes into the suitcase and closed it. “Now, we’re ready.”

      “If you say so.” Tess shook her head. “But the duffel would have been a lot easier.”

      “Not on my eyes.” Nick picked up the suitcase. “Not to mention my dignity.”

      Tess’s smile widened. “You have no dignity.”

      “Not around you.” Nick grinned back at her, suddenly warmed by how alive she was just standing in front of him and suddenly damn glad to be with her. “This is why we should be together. You can save me from getting too stuffy.”

      “Fine for you,” Tess folded her arms and looked at him with mock skepticism. “Who’s going to save me?”

      “I am,” Nick said. “Hell, woman, can’t you recognize a hero when you’ve got one in your living room?”

      “This would be you?” Tess lifted an eyebrow.

      “This would be me. Picture me in armor. Better yet picture me out of armor making love to you.”

      Tess blinked at him, and Nick’s smile grew evil.

      “No,” Tess said. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

      Nick shook his head. “Good thing for you I’m a patient man.”

      “That’s not necessarily good for me.”

      “Okay, be that way. Could we get going here? I’d like to have at least a couple of hubcaps left for the ride home. Why are you still living in this dump, anyway? The crime rate around here must be out of control.”

      “It is not.” Tess suddenly looked guilty enough to make Nick wonder if the crime rate really was bad enough to worry her. “And besides,” she plunged on, “if you didn’t bring an overpriced car into a deprived neighborhood, you wouldn’t have to worry about some kid heisting your hubcaps to even out the economic imbalance. So there.”

      Nick felt his familiar Tess-annoyance rise again. “So you’re saying that some delinquent is justified in stealing my hubcaps because he doesn’t have as much money as I do?” Nick shifted the suitcase to his right hand to keep from strangling her. “Situational ethics, right?”

      “I’m only saying—” Tess began, and then Nick remembered the weekend and held up his hand.

      “Wait a minute,” he said. “We have to get through two days together. You look terrific, I look terrific, we like each other a lot when we’re not arguing, and we have a strong sexual attraction that I, for one, think we should act on, so why don’t we just agree not to mention politics until, oh, say, midnight on Sunday?”

      “What sexual attraction? I don’t feel any sexual attraction.” Tess looked away from him. “And I didn’t say you looked terrific.”

      “Well, I do, don’t I?”

      TESS LOOKED BACK at him reluctantly, already knowing she was lost. He was beautiful, neatly pressed into a suit that evidently had no seams at all, every strand of his dark hair immaculately in place. Only his face betrayed any sign of human weakness, mainly because he was grinning at her. It was that grin that got her every time. The suit and the haircut belonged to Nick the lawyer, the yuppie materialist. Him, she could resist, no problem. But the grin belonged to Nick the guy who watched old movies with her and handed her tissues when she cried. It belonged to Nick the guy who did the worst Bogart imitation in the world and who knew it and did it anyway. It belonged to Nick the guy who’d gotten one of her students out of trouble with the police when he’d been caught vandalizing the school, and who’d then put the fear of God into the kid so he’d never pick up another can of spray paint again.

      The grin kept telling her that the real Nick was trapped inside the designer-suited, I’m-making-partner-before-forty Nick. Maybe that was why she kept fantasizing, against her will, about getting that designer suit off him.

      She surrendered and moved toward the door. “All right, you’re terrific. I’m sorry I’m being bitchy. I’m nervous about this weekend. I don’t want to let you down.”

      “You won’t,” Nick said.

      Tess shook her head. “I’m not good at lying. Or at being submissive. And I think Norbert Welch is an obnoxious cynic who relieves his insecurities by deliberately annoying everyone with his smug novels. I probably shouldn’t mention that this weekend, though.”

      “Probably not,” Nick said. “But you probably will, anyway.” He sounded resigned, but not glum. In fact, he seemed pretty buoyant.

      “You’re really optimistic about this, aren’t you?” Tess said, smiling because he seemed so genuinely happy. “You really think this is going to work.”

      “I’m СКАЧАТЬ