CHAPTER 33

BRIAN HAD A TWO-BEDROOM APARTMENT ON A LOW FLOOR, IN A FAIRLY NEW BUILDING ON SECOND AVENUE. It was made of yellow brick, had small windows, and went up many stories. The lavish lobby had furniture and a fountain, but his apartment looked bare. There were no curtains in the living room or dining room. He had a leather sofa, a coffee table, and a recliner. A pile of Forbes magazines and Wall Street Journals lay on the rug. The two glass paperweights that Annie had given him for the last two Christmases were lonely ornaments on the table. In the dining room, not even a fake flower arrangement graced the glass-topped table. The place had the feeling of recent occupancy even though Annie knew he’d lived there for more than a decade.

“Home sweet home.” Brian went into the bedroom and returned a moment later without his jacket. “I love this place, but it needs a woman’s touch. How about a drink? I have everything.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She couldn’t think of anything she wanted.

“A martini?” He knew what she liked and gave her a wolfish smile.

“Well, maybe a short one. I can’t stay.” Annie followed him into the kitchen, where more piles of old newspapers and magazines covered most of the counter space. He was right; it did need a woman’s touch.

It didn’t take more than a few seconds for him to find what he needed in the cabinet. Assorted glasses and liquor bottles were neatly arranged in a place where most people kept their dishes. He chose the vodka and a bottle of olives wrapped in lemon peel.

Annie opened the refrigerator. Not even an old container of milk lived in there—just some aged jars of condiments that might have been old enough to go to kindergarten. “Doesn’t look like anybody lives here,” she murmured.

“Sally took everything while I was at work one day,” he said, shrugging. “I don’t have anything left.” He opened the freezer for ice. He filled two huge martini glasses with ice to freeze the glasses, then grabbed two more handfuls for the shaker.

While he fussed over vodka, Annie wandered into the bedrooms. One had a desk with a phone and computer with a desert-island screen saver. A lamp on the desk was on, too. Double-bed mattresses, ringed with rumpled bedding, towels, clothes, and scented candles, were on the floor of the master bedroom. The scented candles were pretty much overpowered by the odor of sweaty gym clothes. The bareness of Brian’s larder and his general lack of domestic organization kindled Annie’s sympathy. Sally had been gone for several years.

With the beginning of a headache, Annie returned to the living room. She huddled miserably on the sofa, wishing she hadn’t come. In a minute Brian joined her with two brimming martini glasses, carefully balanced not to spill a single drop.

“Cheers.” He held out his glass.

She didn’t feel very cheery, so she just clinked the glass. After her first sip, however, she felt better. “You make a good martini. What’s in this?”

“Tequila. It’s called a martila. Annie, thank you for coming. You know how much I rely on your opinion.” He gave her one of those deep male gazes that always made her feel important.

She lifted her hand to brush it away. She didn’t want him relying on anything. She couldn’t decorate his apartment or anything else. She had to go home.

“I really do,” he said earnestly.

“Okay.” She drank her cocktail and decided the tequila added a nice touch. Then she picked up a paperweight.

“See, you gave that to me,” he said.

She nodded. Yes, she had.

“And I treasure it. I’ve got it on display.” He put his hand on her knee. “We make a very good team, don’t you think?”

Annie tried not to look at his lips as he spoke. Even though his apartment needed some attention, he had very desirable lips and pretty much desirable everything else. An excellent male body. She took another swig of martila and enjoyed the heat as it traveled down her throat. She also felt that furnace burning away much lower down. She could go home about now. Or . . . she could stay a little longer. She glanced around the room while she thought about it. There wasn’t much to look at, so she checked out Brian’s collection of cheap paintings. He had a rural scene with a cow in a pasture, a landscape in the kind of countryside he’d probably never seen himself. A seascape with what looked like a floundering sailboat. A windmill with some quaintly dressed Dutch people. No particular theme among the pictures emerged from closer scrutiny. It looked as if he’d bought a bunch of paintings in a five-for-twenty-five-dollar sale.

She jumped when his hand traveled across neutral territory and found her knee.

“What do you say?” he murmured.

She crossed her legs and tugged at her skirt. “I’m very upset about this Teath situation. What are we going to do?” And I have to go home now, she didn’t add. She could have moved away. She even thought about it for a moment, but she didn’t. The truth was, she’d never done anything like this before and was curious about what he would do.

His fingers moved higher under her skirt, then paused there, letting her know he wasn’t going away. He had something else in mind. “You’d have been fine if you hadn’t listed everything,” he murmured.

They’d been over this a dozen times. She made a disparaging noise.

“Do you have any other thoughts on the subject?” he asked.

“Is this an interview?” It occurred to her that even though two of his fingers were now circling her inner thigh, heading higher and higher, she might still be able to justify this meeting in Brian’s apartment as work.

“No, no. Of course not.” His lips touched her lips and set off some fireworks.

Annie felt hot all over. His lips touched hers again, and this time pressed a little. She wanted to return to the conversation, but forgot what they’d been talking about. What she did remember was her own admonition to the girls about this kind of thing: Do not go to boys’ apartments. Do not pretend nothing is going on when they try to make out with you. Do not advance while holding off a decision about when to retreat. Suddenly she was back in high school.

“You have nice legs, Annie.” Brian kissed her again, longer this time.

After a few seconds Annie turned her cheek and murmured, “Thank you.”

He kissed her neck. He kissed her chin. “You know, you really have the best legs.”

Annie was surprised. “Oh really, I always thought Darian had the best legs.”

“She has nice legs, but yours are better.” Brian stopped kissing to scrunch her skirt up higher and get a closer look at her thighs. “Very nice.”

Pleased, Annie took the opportunity to drink some more martila. She suddenly realized that this was a lot more fun than being home. Brian explored the space between her legs, then freed his hands to untie his tie, pull it out of his shirt collar, and toss it on the floor. He started unbuttoning his shirt.

“Your turn,” he said.

“What?”

“It’s your turn, Annie. Blouse or skirt.”

Ohhh, he meant she should take off her blouse or her skirt. Oh God, she was ambivalent.

“I’ll give you a good time,” he promised, leaning over to nuzzle her knee.

“Ahh, Brian, the primary thing on my mind is this Teath case. I want to know what’s going to happen.” There, she got back on the subject. He moved away and started talking.

“Okay, okay. This is how I see it. If Dr. Teath makes a complaint to the NASD, the accusation against you will go on public record. You’ll have it hanging over your head until the hearing, which may take as long as a year. You did break some rules, Annie, so a panel could easily rule for the old man. If they did, it could cost us penalties as well as the value of the missing bonds. Although I’d support you . . .” He shrugged about his bosses.

She didn’t say anything.

“If you want to accuse a confused old man of fraud and murder, go for it.” He made it seem like a poor idea. “Or else we won’t go to arbitration. We’ll save your hide, make a settlement, and do it really soon. How does that sound?”

Annie didn’t answer. She was thinking of Ben—of the year he’d waited for arbitration, so sure all that time that he would win, only to lose in the end.

“Look, it happens all the time. A lot of clients make a lot of complaints of this nature. This is what I do. I manage these cases. If I want the Teath thing to go away, I can make it go away.”

The fun was gone. Annie tugged at her skirt. “What about the consequences for me?” she asked slowly.

“This is what we have insurance for. There won’t be any.”

Annie wasn’t sure she should believe him. “No personal liability?”

He shook his head. “If we settle, it doesn’t become public, and no one but us will know.”

“What if he doesn’t want to settle?”

“Trust me, he’ll settle.” Brian smiled.

After that Annie wasn’t sure exactly what happened. It certainly wasn’t trust that happened. She took a moment to go to the bathroom. She washed her hands and face. She wondered at the possible reasons why Brian hadn’t settled Matthew’s case and saved them all a lot of pain. She considered going home. When she returned there was a fresh martila on the coffee table.

After that something changed. There was a moment when she was fully dressed and then a moment when her blouse was on the floor. Her skirt was on the floor. The panty hose were on the floor. She was grappling with Brian on the sofa wearing just the thong and matching bra. The leather was cool and slippery and exciting on her bare bottom. Then without her removing her bra it was on the floor, too, and all she was wearing was the thong. Brian stopped grappling and leaned back to stare at her.

“Wow, Annie, you’re so beautiful!”

“Really?” She was certain that her flesh had long ago turned to cottage cheese.

“Are you kidding?” His lips found a nipple, and he teased it with his tongue. “Oh God, you’re perfect.”

Me? Perfect? That was a totally new idea. Annie was unused to the concept and also the narrowness of the thong that had crept up so high it had become the ultimate wedgie in the ultimate sensitive place. She squirmed a little as Brian smiled at her from above, then traced the curve of her waist and hips with the tips of his fingers.

She liked the caress, but she didn’t know what to do with the smile. I’m a married woman, she thought. No one but Ben knew how she looked naked. Brian’s smile made her uncomfortable. How could this end well, she asked herself. It couldn’t. But like every other woman in a sticky position, she was conflicted. Part of her wanted to get up and run. The other part of her wanted to see what Brian would do. She wanted to see the bulge in his blue plaid boxer shorts revealed for whatever it was. What if it was a great one, better than Ben’s?

Frankly she half believed that she deserved to see it. She hadn’t been anywhere near another man’s penis for half her life—more than half, because the first sixteen years didn’t count as life. How many men had she had before Ben? Only a few. One in high school, two in college. Ben ever since. Didn’t she deserve some time off for good behavior?

Smiling at her, Brian played with the strings circling her hips. Still debating, Annie realized she had to make a choice. She was there with her bare buttocks on the sofa and a really good-looking man hovering over her, kissing her breasts, then her lips. It felt good. Then, while kissing with his tongue deep in her mouth, he slipped his finger under the string.

Ah, relief from the pressure. Annie groaned with pleasure. After that she didn’t have the will to think about anything. Brian knew where he was going, and he knew how to get there, and she stopped worrying about anything but feeling as the thong came off, and the real fun began.