Chapter Twenty-Two
Ryan dropped Isobel at her door, declining an invitation to come inside. She thought about offering some explanation for Lance’s presence at the gallery, but he didn’t ask and she decided she had nothing to explain anyway. He suggested she hang on to the helmet but she told him she would look absurd wearing it on her pushbike. She put her arms around his neck for a good-bye kiss.
“Be careful on that thing, at least till you’ve gotten more used to it.”
“And then go crazy?”
She gave him a playful thump on the shoulder. “That’s not what I meant. On Saturday I want to see you in one piece, not hobbling around on crutches. So, for me, if not for yourself, please keep the speed down.”
“Okay, mom.” He stroked her cheek. “See you Saturday.”
He fired the engine up and kicked away the support bar. “By the way,” he asked, like an afterthought, “how come that jerk knew my name?”
Isobel blushed, a strange feeling of guilt gripping her as it had before when the subject of Lance cropped up. “I don’t know,” she replied, trying to sound indifferent, but at the same time genuinely flummoxed.
“Juanita in the gallery?”
Isobel had lost track of which days Juanita worked. “Yes, I think so,” she said, relieved that Ryan seemed to be divining an answer to his question.
He nodded slowly, as if processing the possibilities. “That guy ain’t what he seems.”
Isobel knew Lance wasn’t a Jehovah’s Witness, but didn’t for a second think that Ryan believed it either. “What do you mean?”
“There’s something shady about him. Ask yourself, what regular guy needs to have hired muscle? And here in Sleepy Hollow to boot. It just don’t fit.”
“Isn’t he just a driver?” she asked, reluctant to indicate any substance at all to her relationship with Lance.
“Driver my fucking ass.” He revved the engine. “You watch how you go, babe, that guy is trouble.”
Maria sprang up to greet her. It The previous night at the Marriott’s rooftop bar, the encounter with Rudy and Isobel’s dramatic exit now seemed an age away. But the evening clearly remained fresh in Maria’s mind.
“Well, well, well, look who’s back, Jezebel herself. How fickle the heart can be. Two different men in twenty-four hours, or maybe three for all I know. Are you going into competition with me?”
“Wrong on all counts. But tell me how it went with you and Greg,” she replied, pulling Maria back down on the sofa. “Anything naughty happen?”
“That depends what you mean by ‘naughty,’ ” replied Maria coyly.
“Well, you were locked in a clinch with him when I left, so I guess something happened. You weren’t out till all hours just chatting.”
“Now let’s see, where shall I begin? We had one more drink and he invited me back to his place for coffee.”
“And after the coffee?” said Isobel, taking Maria’s hands in hers and studying the freshly painted blood red nails.
“Like them? Two coats and a varnish.”
Isobel nodded, thinking perhaps the time had come to succumb to Juanita’s entreaties. “But you were telling me about the coffee.”
“Things started to happen way before coffee. His hands were all over me, and I mean all over, the second we got in the lift.” Maria’s eyes sparkled with glee. “I suppose I’d given him a bit of encouragement in the bar, not that he needed much. When he found out I had nothing on underneath—“
“When did that happen?” said Isobel, sure she remembered the outline of underwear beneath Maria’s clinging dress.
“When I visited the bathroom, of course.”
“I’d call that more than a bit of encouragement,” said Isobel, beginning to hanker for further titillation, “but don’t let me interrupt you.”
“Anyway, when he did find out he went a bit crazy—in a good way. If some weirdo hadn’t got in on the twentieth floor I don’t know how far we might have gone.”
“You’d have been going down faster than the elevator, you mean?”
“Maybe, one of us anyway.”
“So not much going on in the way of conversation, then?” said Isobel giving her friend a sideways look.
“I get all the conversation I need with Arnie. If last night I’d wanted more chitchat I could have phoned Dallas. Now do you want to know the rest or shall I leave you wondering?”
Isobel put a finger to her chin, feigning childlike curiosity. “Well, now you’ve got me interested…”
Maria shifted in the seat. “That’s better. So, by the time we got to his hotel room—he’s from out of town, by the way—we were both pretty worked up.”
“So straight on with the business?”
Maria nodded. “First time standing up in the shower. Worked for him but not so well for me. Next, he put on the porn channel to get himself going again—“
“While you were helping?”
“What’s a nice girl to do? By now I’d smeared my lipstick in all the right places. And all his fun in the shower left me ready to crawl up the wall.”
“No!” exclaimed Isobel, pretending to be shocked by her friend’s decadence.
“Next time round I lay back and made sure he knew what I needed.”
“And he didn’t disappoint?”
“Disappoint? He exceeded expectations; he put his tongue everywhere. At one point—”
Isobel interrupted with a show of her palm. “Spare me the graphics, I’ve got the picture on that one.”
“So now I’m thinking that’s pretty much that. Time to make my excuses and leave. I thought I’d exhausted him anyway, so I had no reason to stay. It wasn’t like he had anything interesting to say. But then he got other ideas. Started asking me if I’ve ever done this and that.”
“Running through all his fantasies, you mean? Do tell more.”
“Things with champagne bottles you don’t want to know about, golden showers, girl-on-girl action.” She raised her eyebrows. “He even asked if you might be up for a threesome.”
“I hope you told him no?”
“And burst his bubble? I gave him a cheeky ‘Maybe’.”
Isobel laughed. “Men! What is it about them that makes them think every woman is just craving to be used as a sex object and be humiliated for their pleasure?”
“Because they’re simple creatures? So, where was I?”
“Promising a threesome.”
“Oh yes, that got him going again and we went at it one more time. Then I thanked him for a romantic evening and scooted before he got any ideas about checking out the champagne bottles in the mini-bar.”
“And are you seeing him again?”
“Strangers in the night is one thing, getting involved with a married man is one step too far for me, it only leads to grief.”
“Don’t I know it,” said Isobel wryly. “But when did he drop that bombshell?”
“When he sat there running through his menu it slipped out, if you know what I mean—‘his wife didn’t understand his needs’ kind of BS. By now he’s back home in Seattle mowing the lawn. But that’s enough about my night. How did things go with Rudy?”
Isobel let out a heavy sigh. “He seemed okay at first but turned into a creep as the night went on. After I left you he spent the evening trying to fill me with drink, and did a fair good job of it, I’m afraid. But I came to my senses before anything too serious happened. The evening ended at one. I left him in a sleazy club downtown. Definitely not my type. You could call it a lucky escape. So nothing to tell, really.”
“On the contrary, you’re only intriguing me further. But let me make a pot of tea for us both, we’ve so much more to talk about.”
As her friend busied herself in the kitchen, Isobel scanned the room, wondering what else, or who else, Maria had in store. “Have you been tidying up?”
Maria poked her head through the serving hatch. “Oh, I’m sorry, in all the comings and goings I forgot, Juanita popped round. She says she cannot see you this evening because the baby is unwell. Nothing serious, but she doesn’t want to leave her with the minder to go to the refuge.”
“And in her fly-by visit she did the housework?”
“And my nails. The girl is a marvel. She put the whole house in order. She changed your sheets, saying there must have been visitors, though how she came to that conclusion I can’t imagine. In fact, she left me with the impression that she believes you have been entertaining a string of men in this hideaway of yours.”
“Perhaps her imagination is as active as your libido. But do go on, did she leave any other message?”
“She most certainly did. She could hardly contain her joy.”
“She’s expecting another baby?”
“Even better. She sold your painting. And for the full asking price, as if you don’t already have enough to celebrate. Your birthday surprise will now seem somewhat anti-climatic, I’m afraid.”
Isobel sprung up off the sofa. “That’s just amazing, Maria. I’m so thrilled. And not about the money, it’s the first painting of mine anyone has ever bought.”
Maria came out of the kitchen and hugged her. “And you will sell many, many more. And one day you will have your own art studio and your pictures will be in demand around the world.”
“Let’s not get carried away—one sale doesn’t make a supermarket.”
“But it’s a start.”
Isobel kissed her on both cheeks. “Thank you. But I feel bad for Juanita; she’ll have wanted to tell me herself. Only this morning I told her off for putting it in the front window without permission. I must think of something to do to thank her.”
“She told me only because she couldn’t wait, she’s desperate for you to give her another painting to display before the dragon of an owner comes back.”
Maria brought out a tray with the tea, and they sat alongside each other. “But now, Isobel, it is not Rudy or your painting that is intriguing me. I think it’s time you told me just what is going on in your love life, with Ryan and Lance and whoever else.”
“Juanita told you about Lance?”
“I was just teasing before. As well as being a treasure, that girl is the soul of discretion. As I hunted around for your guidebook I came across some pictures of you dressed up in a period costume, with a hunk in a cowboy outfit. Am I ringing any bells?”
“You might be, but pray continue,” said Isobel.
“Well,” said Maria, adopting the captivating tone of a raconteur, “can you believe it, there he stood posing like an emperor in a hat the size of an Easter bonnet, holding you to him and looking like the cat with the key to the creamery. Most peculiar.”
Isobel laughed at her friend’s mock incredulity. “I can see why you might be intrigued, but not every picture tells a story.”
Maria arose and retrieved the incriminating evidence from a drawer, jiggling the photos up and down. “They tell one to me. You make such a perfect couple.”
“Just a pose. It’s how the photographer wanted it.”
“If you say so. But there’s more. When I did find the guidebook I saw the dedication in the front signed by someone called Lance, and his card that you were using as a bookmark. So I put two and two together. Am I wrong? Or are there really three men in your life, forgetting about Rudy?”
“Don’t worry. He’s forgotten.”
“But tell me about Lance. Are you still seeing him?”
“Before we get to all that, last night at the Del, remember, the man Chrystal Brakeley sat next to? Well, that is Lance.”
“No!” said Maria. “The tall guy in the cap who sneaked in and sneaked out?”
“The very same. Mr. Lance Denning. He’s a local property developer, or that’s how he describes himself.”
“And a bit of an oddball.”
“Why do you say that?” said Isobel, curious to know Maria’s first impressions.
“I mean, the way he dressed and behaved. The cap for a start, and why didn’t he wear a tuxedo like everyone else at the front?”
“I’m still trying to work that part out.”
“But he’s married, no doubt?”
“No, he’s not. He’s divorced, and has been for a long time. We met at the Del and he invited me for a drink. We ended up chatting for a couple of hours.”
“So you were attracted to him?”
“He did all the work,” said Isobel defensively, “laying on the attention and the flattery. He has a daughter who lives with her mother up around New York somewhere. That was all he’s told me. The problem with Lance is not what he tells me, it’s what he doesn’t tell me. Including all the time he’s been chasing me, he’s also been playing around with Chrystal Brakeley.”
“And until last night at the Del you didn’t know anything of his relationship with Chrystal?”
Isobel nodded.
“Which would explain why you were so distant in the concert, and for most of the night after it. And why perhaps you drank too much with Rudy?”
“I suppose so. I don’t know why it threw me the way it did. I guess just the brazen deceit. He told me he needed to go to Texas on a business trip. And he promised to call as soon as he got back. But obviously he didn’t. And if he had nothing to hide, he’d have wanted to call me to explain everything.”
“But he doesn’t know that you saw him at the Del. Maybe he doesn’t think he has anything to explain, to reassure you that he’s not cheating on you?”
“We need to back up, Maria. No one is cheating on anyone. I haven’t even slept with Lance. He asked me out and I told him no, that I already had a steady boyfriend.”
“I’m sorry, Isobel, but you’re losing me here. Either you’re in a relationship with Lance or you’re not.”
Isobel wrung her hands. “I know I’m contradicting myself. But maybe the problem is I really don’t know what it is I want.”
“Or who it is you want, you mean? Well, you better make up your mind soon, or you’ll be in bed with both of them.”
“That isn’t going to happen.”
“Maybe not at the same time. But how did you get yourself into this pickle in the first place?”
Isobel rolled her eyes upward. “I’d been keeping Lance at arm’s length but things became more complicated when I hurt myself on my bike. He rode to the rescue while Ryan fed me excuses about being too busy to come down, and we ended up seeing each other a few times, for a date, if you like, but nothing happened. I gave him a peck on the cheek, that’s all.”
The two women were now hunched over the table.
“But you’re not in love with Ryan, right? Why didn’t you finish with him when Lance began to pursue you? It’s not as if you’re married to the guy.”
Maria’s look left no place to hide. Behind her eyes Isobel saw the unspoken question. Are you just keeping Ryan around for the sex?
“I did think about it. But I just didn’t feel I could trust Lance. He’s too much like Jay, a slick charmer.”
“Except Jay is married and Lance is not. So he is free to play the field, as you are now too.”
“But that’s just it. I don’t want another man who plays the field.”
“But you don’t want a monk, either,” said Maria, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Whatever Jay’s faults, he gave you excitement and passion, did he not? ” Isobel winced. At times like these she hated Maria’s directness. “Let’s suppose Lance is sleeping with Chrystal Brakeley, and has been since before he met you. Who is to say that he isn’t like the rest of us, looking for the right person? If he felt drawn to you it might be that he saw something that he doesn’t see in a clotheshorse half his age, however desirable her body may be.”
“A convenient theory. Except I have been honest with Lance—I told him about my separation, why I’m here in Coronado, and I made it clear I’m serious about someone else.”
“Even if you’re only half-serious. And that’s no great incentive for him to dump a supermodel.”
“Whereas Lance,” said Isobel, ignoring her friend’s qualification, “told me he’s not seeing anyone and hasn’t been in a serious relationship for two years, whereas it’s obvious he does have some kind of relationship with Chrystal Brakeley.”
“Maybe they’re just good friends?”
“Just good friends with Miss Sex-on-Legs Brakeley? Be serious, Maria. If I were good friends with Rudolph Valentino, or even if we were passing acquaintances, then I think I might have found a way of slipping it into the conversation somewhere along the line. And as for the rest of Lance’s private life and his business affairs, he’s often evasive, secretive, even.”
“But the main problem is that he reminds you of Jay. And you don’t want to risk being hurt again, not in the way Jay hurt you.”
“Is that surprising?”
“No, it is something I can understand. And you’re right to be cautious; you are a beautiful and wealthy woman, or will be if your lawyer does his job right. But you can’t live your life in Jay’s shadow. As he is not living his in yours.”
“But men, men like Jay, are different. They can walk away like it never happened.”
“I’m not so sure. Has Peter walked away? Is he not hurting? You can’t push love away, and expect at the same time to find it.”
Isobel stood, Maria’s insightfulness unsettling her. “Two days ago this would have been a helpful conversation. But last night gave me all the confirmation I needed that I can’t trust Lance. Now I need to move forward. And when you’ve gone back to England I don’t want to be alone and I don’t want to come home to an empty bed every night.”
“So any relationship is better than no relationship?”
“Of course not. If that were the case I wouldn’t have gone without for six months after I left Peter. I just feel I still might have something good going with Ryan, if I give it a chance. So I’m going to do my utmost to make it work, starting on Saturday. And man-about-town Lance Denning is now, officially, history.”