Hysterical Blondeness (8 page)

It wasn’t so much rich or poor, it was the foundation. And Patricia’s family hadn’t given her that foundation, for some reason. Maybe that’s why a big powerful family like the Nordquists attracted her.

What was she thinking anyway, that she’d nab Brett on the rebound from Lizbeth? She’d sure decked herself out for the kill tonight.

She’d looked very pretty in her red sweater with that new wavy blonde hair of hers. That sweater showed off her figure very nicely. He was going to kill her. She was all screwed up. That diet drug must have affected her brain. What had happened to his sensible, creative, cautious friend?

Paul couldn’t stop thinking about Patricia in her red sweater. He closed his eyes and right away the sensation of running his hands over that cashmere flashed over him. Her breasts
would be so soft and sexy underneath. Imagine touching her for the first time and having her respond to him.

Imagine her letting him pull her close and work that sweater right off of her. To taste her lips and watch her eyes as he made her all hot. She had on a satin bra under there. He could tell by the way the sweater moved. Satin to put his mouth against and make her nipples hard with his touch.

Her red lips looked so full and inviting. And her hair, her crazy hair would feel like silk between his fingers. He imagined her crawling into bed with him all naked and pale and blonde, her red-painted fingernails scratching his back as he entered her. He’d be gentle and amazing and make sure she was ready for him. Then he’d move in her until she went crazy underneath him.

He got an enormous erection. Paul thumped his fist against his head. Why was he torturing himself like this? He flung off the covers and stalked down the hall, then down the stairs. He heard Pinky snoring.

He twisted the knob of Patricia’s room and walked over beside her bed. She was quiet as
silk under her puff of a quilt. He watched her sleeping. He felt himself longing to slide under those covers with her. He ached for her. He ached to kiss her over and over again and make love to her until she slept in his arms.

Why hadn’t he figured this out sooner? Why was he suddenly interested in her after all this time? Maybe it had to do with the fact she’d never really had a serious relationship until now. She’d had a few random dates, but basically he and Pinky were her life outside of work. Maybe he was seeing something he should have seen a whole lot sooner. That he didn’t want Patricia to be with anyone else but him.

And what was he going to do about it
now
?

He leaned over her bed and tucked the duvet up around her bare shoulder. Then he kissed her forehead softly. “Goodnight,” he whispered. He felt drawn to her in the strongest way possible.

She startled him as she caught his arm and turned herself toward him.

“Paul?” she whispered. Her voice was wispy and sexy.

He couldn’t help himself. He leaned in and found her sweet, full lips. As he kissed her he felt the heat rush over his body.

Patricia surprised him and pulled him closer. Somewhere in his mind he had a brief thought this might not be the best idea, but it ended so very quickly when she moved her hands all over him and he realized she was completely naked.

It happened so fast from that moment on. It was like a dream. From the moment he slid under the duvet and her bare skin met his, he lost that thinking ability and could only feel her touch. Everything after that went in slow motion, with nothing but sensation and emotion.

He gathered her in his arms and kissed her deeply, with all the pent-up passion he had within him. Her lips burned with his kisses. She twisted her arms around him and pulled him closer against her. Her leg slid over his and when he ran his mouth down her neck and slowly kissed his way to her breast she arched against him so perfectly he let out a groan of pure pleasure.

He could feel himself throbbing between her legs, still encased in his pajama bottoms.

She moved again when he touched her nipple with his tongue, then slid his hand around and cupped her breast into his mouth. A beautiful sound came out of her lips that he’d never heard before from Patricia. A slow moan of lust that
made her open her body to him like a ripe pink rose opening to the morning light.

He needed to hear that again. His hand moved down her side and slid into the dark, sweet excitement of her body, and as he touched her he felt her already throbbing with arousal. She was wet and ready and felt so sweet he closed his eyes and let the sensation of making love to her roll over him like the waves of smooth water he rowed across. She was liquid pleasure.

It was odd how much control he felt in the middle of losing control. He felt her mouth search his out again as he slowly brought her to a climax. She screamed a quiet scream into his kiss and arched even harder against him as he felt her throbbing turn wild and hard.

He pulled her close and made her pant with unending rushes of her own pleasure. She wrapped herself completely around him and then he felt her hands untie his pajama bottoms. Now, this was a seriously dangerous thing, and before he could even complete that thought he felt her slide the clothing off his body and turn like a slippery sea creature under him till she was on top.

He tried to speak, but she covered his mouth
with her hand. He watched her beautiful breasts and her hips poised above him and then he lost all of his sense and let her move herself onto him. Slowly she slid him deeply into her.
So
slowly she began to move against him and he felt her climax again, the tiny hot button of flesh throbbing and burning like a match lit between them as she moved herself in small, gentle circles over him.

He cried out her name and pulled her down onto him. Then he touched her cheeks and kissed her so deeply she made that sweet, amazing sound again. He felt addicted to that sound.

It made his arousal even harder and that made her cry out her sound even more, and in the smoothest, slowest possible way they swayed together over and over again like a dance they’d just learned, until finally he felt the heat white-flash over him and he held her hips and arched hard against her and let himself go.
Oh
God, she felt so, so good, and she collapsed against him and moaned for her own sweet, throbbing climax.

And then

his brain

came back.

He didn’t want to move, because if he moved he would break the spell of magic that had held them captive for the last hour. If he moved, he’d have to realize what he’d done.

She fell asleep entwined with him and at last he moved her gently to her side and even then she kissed him in her sleep with her arms still around his neck.

He ran his hand down the length of her body, over her smooth round hip, and up the soft sweetness of her breast and her neck and into her beautiful waves of blonde hair. Then he touched her across her cheek and lightly skimmed the swollen fullness of her lips.

Those lips. She had kissed him with the deepest, most passionate mouth he’d ever known in his entire life. Her whole being went into those kisses. He felt scarred for life by her kiss.

The course of true love never did run smooth.

Shakespeare

Whenever Pinky McGee needed
order in her life, she did one of two things. She either started a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle like a Currier and Ives or a Charles Wysocki where the houses grew piece by piece and the sky and sea reflected each other like a blue-green mirror; or she started a sewing project.

This time it looked like she had decided to make a Hollywood glamour girl dress for her newly blonde friend Patricia.

Sometimes Pinky reminded him of the spunky girl mice in Cinderella—the ones that knew better than the boy mice how to revamp an old gown into a fashion statement. But hey, boy mice knew how to get a cat tied up in knots.

She had dragged her dress dummy out into
his
living room and surrounded herself with bolts of fabric, pins, measuring tapes, patterns, and odd items only seamstresses understood—like pressing hams. They’d had a few discussions in the past about this—turning his spaces into workrooms—but he hadn’t won any of those sparring rounds. She claimed the light was better up here. Besides, he liked to watch her create things. He admired creativity.

So he had surrendered, knowing it kept Pinky sane. And they needed Pinky sane because she was the glue that held their little jigsaw-puzzle life together.

But
this
morning the puzzle pieces were completely unglued and scattered to the four winds.

“What’s all this? Paul asked. “Don’t you have to work today?” He stood in the kitchen, itchy in his go-to-meeting suit, haunted by his night with Patricia.

And work was beating in his head. Today the open-to-buy approvals were being handed out and a “Spring Trend” meeting with all the buyers was set for ten
A.M
.

It seemed like he’d just finished holiday in August, and here he had to start planning his flight to New York in November for the spring market. Things were always hoppin’ in handbags. He snort-laughed his coffee, nervous and off-kilter about everything. He wondered if it showed all over him. He wondered what every moment would be like from now on.

Pinky looked up at him from her pins and needles with an odd look on her face. Could she see it in his eyes?

“Handbag humor,” he explained.

“Only in your own head, Mr. Costello.” Pinky grinned at him with her mouth full of pins. “I took a random day off.”

Her pins always freaked him out. He felt shaky. He tried to make conversation, but all that was on his mind was Patricia. “So, Pinking Shears, what are we going to do about our Patricia?”

“Let her experience nature’s consequences, I guess.” Pinky shrugged.

Nature had certainly made an entrance last night.

Paul came over and sat down next to Pinky. He drank his coffee carefully, treading on thin ice. “Nature can be harsh,” he said quietly.

“Who knows, maybe she’ll fit into the Nordquist family jungle. Otherwise, let’s hope the learning curve is swift and painless.”

“I doubt that,” Paul said.

Pinky looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Which, that she’ll fit in, or that the curve will be swift and painless?”

“Both. Why are you helping with this Brett thing?”

“I guess I like to see fairy tales come true,” Pinky answered.

“Fairy tales. Bullshit. Brett is all wrong for her.” Paul got up from his chair and went to the kitchen. He clunked his coffee cup on the counter. “Here’s a fairy tale for you. It’s Tuesday. I didn’t make meatloaf yesterday and now we have no leftovers for meatloaf sandwiches. There’s a ton of chicken cacciatore, though. So eat.”

“God, Paul, you don’t have to get so animated about it.” Pinky looked at him funny.

“Where is Princess Patricia?” Paul asked. He
was incredibly tense about seeing her face to face this morning.

“Last I heard she was experiencing nature’s consequences in the bathroom this morning. I have a feeling she’s going to be calling in sick today.”

Paul shook his head. “She can’t handle her liquor. She never could.” He realized at that moment the gravity of what he’d done. He’d let himself seduce Patricia while she was under the effects of alcohol. Or did she seduce him? Either way, it was nothing but trouble.

Except when his mind slipped back there it was so amazing that shock waves of memory moved over him.

“Go to work. I’m here. I’ll dunk her head in the toilet and make her see the error of her ways.” Pinky waved him off.

“You do that. I’ll see you for dinner, I hope.”

“I’ll be here.”

“You know I have to leave for New York at the end of the month. Can we get things back to normal by then so I don’t have to worry the whole time I’m there?”

“The question is, what is normal?”

“Damn it, just…the way it was before, you know?” He felt the untruthfulness of that statement all the way to his bones. Nothing would ever be the same after last night.

“Things change, Paulie.”

“Well, make it stop. I’ll make some risotto to go with the chicken tonight and we’ll all play Scrabble and turn in early.” And he’d have a talk with Patricia when she felt better about what happened. They could be sensible and return to their old life, right? They could just chalk it up to nature’s consequences and too many cosmopolitans, if that was what he tasted on her lips, that sweet cherry flavor. He lost his thought in a rush of guilt.

He had to leave before Patricia appeared. Paul filled his travel mug with coffee and headed out. He stopped to grab his leather briefcase and overcoat out of the closet.

“Have a nice day, dear,” Pinky called after him.

Paul came over and gave Pinky a peck on the cheek. “Fix it, Pinky. Fix this stupid thing with Brett. Make her see the light.”

“Are you taking the car?”

“No, I hate parking. The bus is fine.”

“You rich buyers are supposed to travel in style.”

Paul smiled. “I must have missed that memo.”

They were eye to eye. Pinky’s dark brown unblinking eyes were scaring him. He saw things there.
She
saw things back.

“Uhhh. Need coffee.” Paul heard a ragged voice from the hallway and turned to see Patricia wrapped in his old terrycloth bathrobe. They all called it the “sick robe.” It was a sign, for sure. Their eyes met and a very odd moment passed between them.

“She’ll need a fresh pot.” Paul looked at his watch nervously.

“Go, I’ll do it. You’ll be late.” Pinky waved him off. “You need to get to work so Patti the Party Pooper and I can have the best spring samples from New York this year. So tell them you need more money to spend so those reps will shower you with gifts. I want one of those hobo bags for my new spring look.”

He could tell Pinky was rambling him out the door. She also put her hands behind him and shoved him on his way. No subtlety there. He wondered how much the amazing Pinky had
figured out. He wondered how he was going to live with himself today.

As Paul went out the door, Patricia flung herself on the sofa and curled her legs up under the robe. “Shoot me now, Pinky, make the pounding stop. Just one quick shot to the head.”

“Looks like you already did.” Pinky went to make a fresh pot of coffee. “And how are we doing?”

“I called in sick. You’d think yakking your guts up would make you lose a few pounds. Apparently not.”

“You’re still taking the wonder drug, aren’t you?” Pinky asked.

“Yes, but I have to be able to keep it down.” She moaned and held her head. Talking hurt. The faint taste of sweetness from six Sazeracs made her feel nauseated all over again. “Tell that coffee to hurry. It’s an emergency.”

“Coffee isn’t your friend. Drink this first, then eat this.” Pinky brought a cup of hot tea and a piece of toast over to her and set them on the coffee table. “Herb tea. They actually make one for hangovers.”

“And we happen to have it?”

“There was that Christmas eggnog moment we all had last year, remember?”

“Oh yes. Who knew that eggnog could pack such a wallop?” Patricia accepted Pinky’s gifts and sipped the tea. It wasn’t half bad with honey in it.

Pinky sat down on the other end of the sofa.

“Ouch.” Patricia had to hold her temple for a moment.

“You’ve been bad.”

“Am I grounded?” Patricia grimaced.

“According to Paul you are.”

A faint memory mingled with an overall body tingle awoke from the dark recesses of Patricia’s mind. She must have dreamed about Paul. That couldn’t have actually happened.

She talked, pretending she hadn’t just remembered what she thought she did. “What’s with him lately anyway? Mr. Grumpy. I don’t think he likes Brett. That’s terrible, because when we’re married I want you two to come over all the time. And he has to be my best man at the wedding.”

“I think Brett gets to pick the best man.”

“Okay, Paul can give me away.”

“I don’t think Paul wants to give you away.” Pinky gave her a look.

“Oh fine, be difficult.”

“No, I mean,
I don’t think Paul wants to give you away
. Do you understand?”

“No, I don’t understand,” Patricia snapped, but she did, and it was scaring the crap out of her. “Call me stupid.”

Pinky rolled her eyes. “Okay, stupid, I think Paulie might be having feelings about you.”

Patricia looked sharply at her friend. Should she tell her? Should she confess? Was it all a dream? She drank more tea. “We’re all just friends,” she said firmly. “That’s not going to change. We have housemates rules, and, well, Paul is just attracted to blondes.”

Patricia thought hard for a minute. Her head throbbed. Should she tell her best friend what happened?

“Although…” she said slowly.

“Although
what
?” Pinky leaned closer.

“I have something to tell you.” Patricia paused. Maybe she’d try the grandma’s-on-the-roof method. “Paul kissed me last night.”

“He came to your room?”

“I think he was just checking on me.” She set her tea down carefully and eyed her friend.

Pinky sat back with a smug look on her face. She crossed her arms. “You are the worst liar in the entire world, Patricia Stillwell. Don’t even try.”

Patricia swooned against the couch cushions like a true drama queen. “Oh holy shit, Pinky, unless I was having the hottest dream of my life, Paul and I made love last night.”

“You
what
?”

“You heard what I said, don’t make me say it again.”

“Oh my God. I mean, I knew he had feelings for you, and I knew he was going crazy with you chasing Brett and all, but how did you…how did he? What were you thinking?” Pinky had her hands on her cheeks like the screaming man in the art museum.

Patricia was shaking. Her hands were trembling. “Look. We just had a moment. We reached out in the darkness and there was the other one, and it was just so amazing that we didn’t stop.”

“Did you use any birth control?”

Patricia didn’t answer, she just covered her face with her hands.

“Right under my nose.” Pinky shook her head.

“It’s a little complicated, but I’m sure we are both adults and we can just talk it over and it will be fine.”

Pinky leaned over to her friend and put her hand on her knee. She talked very quietly and had a slow smile on her face.

“Was it incredible?”

“I woke up and I couldn’t remember whether I’d had the best dream of my entire life or the best sex ever,” Patricia answered, sliding her hands off her face.

“So you think you can just, oh, shake it off and get back to normal?” Pinky shrugged.

“Hell, I don’t know. I’m not his type in real life. He was probably just starved for sexual attention.”

“What type, intelligent, funny, and talented?”

“Blonde and bouncy.”

“Have you looked in the mirror lately?”

“Oh shit.” Patricia had forgotten she was now blonde and bouncy. Whenever she woke up, she had to relearn her whole face and hair and all other parts that used to be brown and familiar. “You don’t suppose he’s fallen in love
with me now that I’m blonde? That’s kind of twisted.”

“I’m starting to wonder.”

Patricia waved her off. “I can’t even deal with Paul. I have Brett to figure out.”

“You can’t be serious. You aren’t going to go ahead and keep dating Brett after last night, are you?”

“Well, why not? It was just a momentary, crazy thing. We both probably regret it and, well, lots of women have taken a step backward before they took the big step into marriage. I can’t lose sight of my goals just because Paul climbed into my bed last night. Or I pulled him into it or whatever happened.”

“You might have to pace yourself, from what I’m seeing.”

“I just need to get my sea legs.” Patricia smiled. She sipped her tea, which had turned rather nasty the farther down the cup she got.

“Girl overboard.” Pinky got up and went for a coffee refill. “Eat all that and I’ll give you coffee.”

“What are you making?” Patricia grasped at a subject change and pointed at Pinky’s sewing project.

“I’m not sure. I thought I’d make you a dress just in case you got asked to go somewhere fancy.”

“You’re so sweet, Pinky. Don’t forget to charge me for the fabric.”

“Oh, I will.”

“I did get an invitation of sorts.”

“You did?”

“Brett asked if I’d like to be his date at the big Halloween party his parents throw every year. Gosh, these people throw parties for everything. I thought I’d aim for the Christmas party, but I didn’t figure on this invitation.”

“Halloween. That’s not far away. I guess this means we won’t be having our annual open house that weekend?”

“Why not? You and Paulie can do it.”

“It’s not the same without the three of us. But hey, how can you pass up a big to-do at the Nordquist mansion? After all, you’ll need to scope the place out and decide how you’re going to redecorate it after old Lars Nordquist kicks the bucket and you and Brett move in.” Pinky had a decidedly sarcastic tone to her voice.

“Of course, there is his brother Eric, but he’s younger.”

“I bet there are enough rooms for the entire clan.”

“Yes. I’ll just be gracious and invite him to live with us. Then his wife and I can run the entire estate and keep things shipshape.” Patricia lapsed into a full-blown fantasy of Christmas day at the mansion. “We’ll put a fifteen-foot tree in the entry rotunda so when you come in it’s the first thing you see.”