Kiss the Girl (26 page)

He swung her back into that manic two-step, but Nixie jerked out of his arms.

“No,” she said.

Sloan
sighed.  “Here we go again.
  Back on the pedestal.
”

Karl frowned.  “What do you mean, no?”

“I mean no.”  Nixie’s eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed.  “
I
’m building something here
.
”

“
Nixie
.”  Karl dipped his chin and watched her over the top of his glasses.  “
I appreciate your wanting to finish this
clinic thing
out, but be reasonable.
”

“
I
am
being reasonable.”

“You really think putting a bunch of fat American kids on TV and boo-
hooing
over their asthma is more important than helping build an infrastructure that will support the intellectual and economic development of an entire nation of disadvantaged women?”

Erik watched Nixie bear up under that one.  Damn, this man was a master.  Erik would bet good money at least one of his many degrees was in psychology.

“That’s not the point,” Nixie finally said. 

“Then, please, Nixie.  Enlighten us.  What exactly is your point?”

She swallowed visibly, and Erik could see her hands trembling.  She twisted them together and said, “
I can’t live that life anymore.  It was bad for me.”

Karl frowned at her.  “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about this!”  Nixie’s arms wheeled around, taking in her mother, her advisor, the entire apartment.  “What we do together.  We’re dysfunctional and sick, and I don’t want to do it anymore.”

Sloan propped her chin on one lacquered fingernail.  “Don’t you think you’re being the teensiest bit dramatic, Nixie?”

“
No, that’s your job.”
 
Nixie turned to Erik.  “How many times has my mom been married
since my dad died
?”

He blinked.  “Um, six
?”  He turned to Sloan.  “Did you ever marry that Italian guy?”

“Which one?”

“The one
whose ring you tossed off a yacht
in
to
the
Mediterranean
?”

“
No.  His mother didn’t care for me.”

“Five
, then,” he said to Nixie. 

“Which means five
messy divorces
and countless ugly public break ups
.
  I used to think
she was
an incurable romantic, but now I know better.  It’s just business, isn’t it, Mom?  Karl IDs the world’
s next fashionable disaster, you self-destruct
en route
, I prop you up, the cameras eat it all up, and we sell a million magazines.
  Am I the only one who thinks this is unhealthy?
”

Karl looked at Nixie, his face round and stern.  “
We reach an incredibly wide audience because of the particular dynamic between you and Sloan.  Compared to most humanitarian organizations, our donor base is huge.  We raise money they only dream of, and we use it
to build orphanages, hospitals, and schools.  We immunize children, we dig clean wells, we provide money for books, computers, medicines, farms and food. 
More importantly, we bring our issues to more people than the Red Cross, Amnesty International a
nd T
he AIDS
P
roject combined.  So it
costs us a little personal discomfort
.
  What we buy with it is priceless.
” 

“Easy for you to say.  It doesn’t cost
you
a thing.” 
Nixie turned to her mother.  “
Mom.  Y
o
u don’t have to do this anymore.
”

“Do what?”  Sloan gave her a lazy smile. 

“That,” Nixie said flatly.  “The whole sex-drenched
,
red-hot siren
thing you do. 
It still works, don’t get me wrong.  But
how long before it starts to get pathetic?  You’re not getting any younger, you know.”

Sloan’s smile froze.  “I
was young enough for your boyfriend, wasn’t I?
”

Nixie made a rude noise.  “You didn’t even like
James
.  You were just ramping
up the publicity for the Kenyan clinic’s grand opening
.”

Sloan sat up like she’d been slapped.  “I’m no angel, Nixie, but I am
not
a whore.”

“Oh,
God
.  I didn’t mean that.”  Nixie’s h
ands went to her mouth,
her eyes giant and green above her fingertips.  She reached for her mother, but
Sloan
turned away, her hands gripping her elbows until the knuckles showed through her skin.
  “I...”
  She broke off helplessly, turning to Karl in mute appeal.

“Okay, Nixie
,” he said
gently.  “That’s enough.  You’ve made your point.”

He went to Sloan
,
patted her arm
. “We’ll take this one step at a time.  Let’s
get Nixie’s asthma project wrapped up, then we’ll talk about
Bumani
.”
  Sloan
let him take her hand, and she nodded silently
.

Karl
turned to Nixie,
who was
still frozen with horror at her own ugly words.  He
dropped a paternal kiss on her forehead and Nixie leaned into him like she’d received a benediction.

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “I never meant...”

“I know, honey.  Don’t worry.  We’ll work it out.  We always do.  Isn’t that right, Sloan?” 
 

“Yeah.  Sure.”  Erik watched with interest as Sloan
obeyed
Karl with the reluctant faith of a cynic
in the presence of her own personal
messiah.  Erik wondered if she knew that Karl watched Nixie the same way. 

And this, Erik thought, was why he didn’t date women like Nixie.  All women were complicated
, b
ut women like Nixie were complicated in ways he’d
never
figure out.  She was trouble.  And while he shouldn’t want any part of it, he was afraid there were a few parts he wanted quite a lot.

He needed to get his head on straight.  Right now.

Mary Jane watched the Home and Garden channel half-heartedly from the depths of a curvy Victorian sofa.  She’d found it at a yard sale last summer and reupholstered it herself in a
luxe
cranberry microfiber.  It was her favorite place in the world to lie down and take refuge from a crappy day, but it wasn’t doing the trick this afternoon.  She still had a stuffy, low-grade headache, courtesy of her all
day
crying jag. 

She sat u
p and flipped over to the Food N
etwork.  Jamie Oliver was flirting his way through a
Nicoise
Salad.  She tried to pay attention, but somewhere between the olives and the eggs her mind wandered back to Anacostia.  To Ty. 

She punched the power button on the remote with a frustrated little moan.  She wanted to go to work.  She needed the edgy rush of non-stop decisions and overpowering stress.  She didn’t want to think about why a clean, quiet apartment full of her favorite things felt so empty and sterile. 

But she couldn’t go back to Anacostia.  Not today.  It was too full of Ty and the way he’d had her body purring like a high-performance engine all night. 
I
t had stomped the living hell out of her heart when sun came up and she realized that she’d been a fool.  Again.

Tears rushed into her eyes with a stinging vengeance and she blinked them back. 
God
, how could she have any tears left?  She’d cried a lifetime’s worth when Ty had
first
walked out on her
. 

It was just sex, she reminded herself.  Purely physical, purely over. 

But when the doorbell rang, her heart leapt into her mouth and her pulse launched itself right into orbit.  Oh
God
, she thought, looking down at herself.  Did anything scream broken-hearted quite like a bathrobe and puffy eyes at four p.m.?  Wads of Kleenex littered the carpet around the couch like new fallen snow.  She scooped them up and stuffed them into her pockets.  Great.  Now she looked like her ass had finally conquered the thigh-territory it had been eying since high school.

The doorbell rang again, this time accompanied by a voice calling, “Mary Jane?  Are you in there?”

Erik.  Not Ty.  Her heartbeat stuttered back to normal.  “Idiot,” she muttered to herself.  Ty wasn’t going to suddenly change his mind about his life’s work.  Why couldn’t she w
rap her stupid brain around the
fact that he was never going to turn up on her doorstep with a dozen roses, a ring, and a more appropriate outlet for his business acumen?  Particularly not if she kept fucking his brains out every six months or so.  At least this time it hadn’t been on her desk at the clinic.  That was something.  

“Mary Jane?”  The bell rang again.  “It’s Erik.”

“Just a sec,” she called.  She detoured into the kitchen, emptied the Kleenex into the trash can.  She checked her reflection in the stainless steel toaster and sighed.  Maybe she could claim allergies.

She snapped a few fresh tissues from the box on the counter and opened the door.  Erik was there, square and solid and concerned.  She tried a smile. 

“Have you been crying?” he asked.  He didn’t wait for an invitation, just stepped into her apartment and took her hands in his.  She faked a sneeze so she could turn away and have her hands back. 

“Hay fever,” she said. 

He nodded slowly.  “Okay.”

Mary Jane fought the urge to roll her shoulders. 
She was a terrible liar, and they both knew it.

“What are you doing here, Erik?” she asked.  “I thought I was pretty clear about not wanting company this afternoon.”

He smiled.  “You were.  I’m persistent.”  He shut t
he door behind him and wandered
farther into her apartment. 

“
Yeah, well
,
I’m rude
.
  Go home.
” 

“
No
.”  He helped himself to a seat on her girlie, curvy couch with a maddening self-assurance.  “You have every right to kick me out.  But I ho
pe you’ll hear me out first.  I want to talk to you
.”