The Wedding Favor (28 page)

For the first time in months he didn’t feel like hitting anyone.

Spotting a florist, he ducked inside. “Honey, I need three—no, six—dozen of your biggest, reddest roses. Tie ’em up in two bouquets with lots of pretty ribbons.”

He hit the wine store next, shilly-shallied over Cristal or Dom Perignon, then bought one of each.

Even the line of students outside his office didn’t faze him. He feigned interest in each of them in turn, nodding along with their ideas, commiserating with their woes, and dispensing advice as needed. But all the time his mind was back at Starbucks, going over every detail of his encounter with Vicky.

He’d stunned her, for sure. She was still lawyer enough to hide it from her friend, but he’d seen it in her expression and in the flush that burned her cheeks.

There was nothing lawyerly about her new look, though. Not her hair that swung halfway to her waist, not the bangles that jangled when she moved her arms, or that coaster-sized tattoo peeking out above her jeans. Jeans that were so tight he could practically pinpoint the tiny birthmark on her butt, shaped, as he’d told her, like the great state of Texas.

Well, he’d be revisiting Texas soon enough. Because now that he’d seen Victoria Westin again, he understood exactly why he’d obsessed about her these long last months: He was absolutely fucking crazy about her. And if he was any judge of women, the irritation, aggravation, and exasperation written all over her pretty face meant she was crazy about him too.

Of course, she wasn’t thinking about it like that at the moment. She still thought she was mad at him. But once he reminded her how good they were together, then she’d forget about the whole Molly thing and they could pick up where they left off before everything went to shit.

“That’s real interesting, Bristol.” He rose from his chair before the earnest young woman could really hit her stride. “Why don’t you think about how you can expand on that idea in your final paper? Then come on back next week and show me what you got.”

Herding her into the hallway, he glanced both ways. That was the last of them. Closing himself inside, he grabbed the phone.

“Hey there, Sandy, this is Tyrell. I know you just cleaned my apartment last week, but I’d appreciate you giving it another whack this afternoon. I’ve got company coming and I’d sure like it to sparkle. And while you’re at it, honey, will you do me a favor and change the sheets? And make the bed up pretty with all those pillows I chucked on the floor.”

Tipping back in his chair, he stacked his heels on his desk, crossed his arms behind his head, and grinned at the portrait of John Locke hanging on the opposite wall.

“Man, I’m with you,” he said to Locke, “an empiricist all the way.” He threw a wink at the stony-faced codger. “I’ll have her naked by midnight.”

Chapter Twenty-six

J
osie rushed in, grabbed Vicky’s arm in a vise. “Jack McCabe’s out there!
Jack McCabe!
” Her eyes pinwheeled.

Vicky patted her hand. “It’s okay. My brother’s married to his wife’s cousin.”

Josie was too freaked out to follow the intricacies, but she latched on to the theme. “You’re related to Jack McCabe? Why didn’t you tell me? I
love
him! I
worship
him! I went to
every Sinners’ gig
!”

“Calm down. I’ll introduce you after the show.”

“Oh God. Oh Jesus.” Josie paced their tiny dressing room, wringing her hands. “I don’t think I can hold it together with him out there.”

Vicky ignored her. She had worries of her own. The Shoebox Theater held forty seats, all packed with the troupe’s friends and family. It was a friendly, forgiving audience, perfect for her debut.

Until Ty showed up.

She’d prayed he wouldn’t come, but when she peeked through the side door minutes ago, there he was, big as life, sitting in the fourth row with Jack, Lil, Isabelle, Adrianna, Maddie, and Matt.

Isabelle must have orchestrated the seating, because Ty sat at the opposite end from Matt, safe, for the moment, from her vengeful brother. But he didn’t get off scot-free, because even though Jack buffered him on one side, Maddie pinioned him on the other, and by the pained look on his face, the Pitbull had wasted no time in taking him by the throat.

Normally, Vicky would have enjoyed watching Maddie shake him till his teeth rattled, but piled on top of her opening night jitters, the whole thing made her queasy. And now Josie, the person she counted on to talk her off the ledge, was flipping out.

Knuckles rapped the door. “Curtain in five.” Vicky patted her French twist, then brushed her hands down the front of the navy blue suit she’d borrowed from Adrianna. Earlier, her mother had stuck her head backstage, and Vicky had been stunned—and touched—to discover that Adrianna was almost as nervous as she was.

Not approving, mind you. But nervous.

Josie muttered to herself as she paced. Vicky couldn’t make out the words, but they were irrelevant anyway. The show must go on. She took her friend by the shoulders, gave her a shake. “Knock it off, Jo. You’re on your mark in two minutes.” Josie stared at her, uncomprehending. “Josephine Marie Kennedy, you’re on in two minutes! Now
knock it off
!”

“Okay, okay.” Josie dragged a few deep breaths, straightened her shoulders. “Break a leg, girlfriend,” she said, and went out.

After a last once-over in the mirror, Vicky followed her.

She paused in the wings, heart racing, throat closing, as Josie took her place on stage. A moment later, the lights dimmed.

Then the curtain rose, and everyone, cast and audience alike, was plunged into an abandoned subway tunnel, bleak and gray, cluttered with the detritus of those who walked the bright streets above, happily ignorant of the dim and colorless world below their feet.

A long moment passed before a narrow spotlight picked out Josie’s form huddled against a graffiti-covered wall, legs drawn up, head on her forearms, thin body curled like a comma around her empty belly. Everything about her, the slump of her shoulders, the curve of her spine, depicted the despair of a teenage runaway at the end of the line.

Then she lifted her face, and the harsh beam exposed the strain etched there. But it also revealed one tiny spark still flickering in her eyes. Would it be enough to keep her alive until her sister found her?

The question captured the audience at once, and it captured Vicky too. In an almost magical transition, her character settled over her. She forgot to be nervous, forgot about Ty and Adrianna and the rest of the audience. In fact, donning the preppy demeanor like a familiar coat, she felt for the first time in her life both serene and stimulated at once, her heart galloping, yet her nerves steady.

If she’d stopped to consider it, she might have decided that after all her searching, she’d finally found nirvana. But when she crossed out of the wings and into the dark underbelly of the city, she was too caught up in the story’s spell to think about anything else.

For ninety minutes that spell held her fast, until the curtain fell on her abject misery as she knelt, suit filthy, stockings torn, head bowed over Josie’s broken form. Then the thunder of applause from the other side of the curtain brought her back to reality. Josie leaped to her feet, fist pumping, and the rest of the cast and crew tumbled onto the stage, sweeping both of them up in jubilation.

Catapulting from sorrow to joy in a heartbeat, Vicky let herself be shoved into line with the rest of the cast. Holding hands as the curtain rose, they bowed in unison. The audience was on their feet. Cheering. Weeping. Flowers landed on the stage, single roses, bunches of carnations. Ty stepped into the footlights to toss a huge bouquet at her feet, another at Josie’s. And Vicky’s heart, already bursting, positively overflowed.

Nothing could ever, ever top this perfect, once-in-a-lifetime moment.

T
y couldn’t take his eyes off Vicky. She looked like a quarterback who’d just won his first Super Bowl, dazzled and disbelieving at once. And why shouldn’t she? She’d done something every bit as amazing. No longer could anyone deny that she was born to act; even Cruella had tears in her eyes.

He wanted to congratulate Vicky himself, but Matt’s arm was locked around her. Spoiling her big night with a fistfight wouldn’t win her back, so he waited until everyone adjourned to the Italian place across the street. While they milled around in the lobby waiting for a table, he managed to get close to her.

She’d changed into those skinny jeans again, with a silvery, shimmery tank that clung to her curves. Coming up behind her, he put his lips to her ear. “Honey, your friend was right. You killed that part.”

She looked over her shoulder at him, chin tilted up, blue eyes wide and startled. He wanted to gobble her up.

He decided to go in for a kiss instead. No tongue, not in the lobby, but a full-on, soft-lipped, serious kiss that should go halfway toward the apology he owed her and get her thinking about how bad she wanted to go back to his place and hit the sheets.

But he never got to her lips, because someone elbowed him in the side. He let out an “oof” and swung around. Madeline glowered up at him, pixie face tied in a furious knot.

“Leave her alone, asshole. She doesn’t need you ruining her night.”

He glowered back. The little squirt had harangued him for twenty minutes before the curtain went up, and he’d reached his limit with her. “Listen pipsqueak, I’m not gonna ruin her night. For your information, I’m in love with her.”

Oops, it popped out before he knew it. He whipped his head around to see if Vicky heard it, but thank God, she was busy introducing Josie to Jack, with all the squealing that entailed. Ty used the uproar to step around to Vicky’s other side, away from Madeline. The little runt could just try to move him and see how far she got.

Josie finally calmed down enough to catch his eye. She gave him a big smile. “Hey, cowboy.” Then she noticed how close he stood to Vicky. She put two and two together, pointed a finger at Vicky. “You said he’s a hokey cowboy.”

Vicky looked bland. “He is. He’s also an idiot, an egomaniac and a son of a bitch.”

Josie let out a snort. “In other words, you’re crazy about him. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

Maddie muscled in. “She’s not crazy about him. She thinks he’s an asshole and wishes he’d drown in the East River. Which might happen tonight if he doesn’t leave her alone.”

All eyes swiveled toward him. Maddie snarled like she might bite him.

Then the waiter showed up and herded them through the busy dining room to a long table set back in a corner, close to the wall and out of the fray. Ty finagled the seat next to Vicky, who ignored him like he wasn’t there. The pipsqueak grabbed the seat on his other side, too close for comfort. He kept his arm pressed to his side so she couldn’t elbow him again.

The food came in courses, and voices rose steadily as the wine made the rounds. Lil took out her camera, snapping candids, and everyone shouted to everyone else. Everyone except him. He was an island surrounded by a sea of hostility.

For a man used to being at the center of fawning females, it was a new and unpleasant experience. Maddie ignored him, except to snarl occasionally. Cruella, seated across from him, froze him out. From the head of the table, Isabelle, his dear, sweet Isabelle, telegraphed a warning that couldn’t have been clearer if she shouted it in his ear:
Ruin this night, and die.

And Vicky dropped every conversational gambit he threw at her. In fact, she was so indifferent that he actually started to question whether he’d get her into bed that night. And he absolutely had to get her into bed. He had to make her see that Josie was right; even though he was an idiot, an egomaniac, and a son of a bitch, she was crazy about him.

That would be a hell of a lot easier to do if she was underneath him.

Throwing back his last swallow of Chianti, he clunked the glass on the table and decided not to refill it, for the simple reason that if he drank any more he’d have to take a leak, which he couldn’t do without losing his seat to the pipsqueak. And he’d be damned if that happened. As long as he was sitting next to Vicky, there was still a chance he’d come up with something.

The problem, he realized as the night went on, was that she’d gotten the upper hand. He’d let down his guard, forgotten the importance of keeping her off balance.

Waiting until she reached for her wineglass again, he leaned in and spoke quietly into her ear. “Vicky, honey, you sure you want to keep hitting the wine? You know how you get.”

That got her attention. She turned her head to stare him down. “Exactly how do I get?”

He kept his voice down as if not to embarrass her. “Horny.”

“
Horny? I get horny?
” Her outraged tone drew every eye.

He turned his palms up. “I tried to keep it quiet, sugar.”

Her pink cheeks flushed red. She hissed under her breath. “Isn’t it enough you humiliated me in Amboise
and
Texas? Do you have to ruin this night for me too?”

Finally, he was getting somewhere. “Honey.” He met her furious gaze. “I never meant to hurt you, either time. I’m sorry from the bottom of my heart.”

V
icky ground her teeth. How could he
do
this to her? Did he
enjoy
hurting her? Was he that much of a rat bastard?

She wanted to ignore him, to pretend he wasn’t sitting there smelling so good, like fresh air and warm man. But that was hard to do when his magnetic field sucked every cell in her body toward him, forcing her to put up a physical fight just to keep from crawling into his lap.

She’d gotten the lowdown from Isabelle, knew he was teaching at NYU, living practically around the corner from her. What she didn’t know was why, after making it crystal clear
twice
that he didn’t care about her
at all
, he was still trying to get to her.

It couldn’t be that he needed to get laid. NYU—hell, all of New York City—was a banquet laid out with a man like Ty in mind. Yet all night long he’d been vying for her attention. And now he’d gotten it with his soulful apology. She wanted him to take it back so she could keep ignoring him in peace.

Staring him down, she refused to be distracted by his golden eyes or his windblown hair. And she absolutely would not be affected by his sinful smile. The Sundance Kid. Phooey!

Her voice was steady. “Why are you here, Tyrell? What do you want?”

He smiled, slow and sexy, and damn it, he
did
look like Sundance. She could kill Josie for putting that in her head.

“Honey, I want to take you home with me.” His voice was low and warm and so, so tempting.

She firmed her jaw, kept her voice down too. “Why me? You must have girls crawling all over you on campus.”

“I’m not interested in girls. I want a woman. I want you.”

His lips were smiling, but his eyes were serious. She didn’t know what to make of him. She started to lose her footing.

“Why are you saying these things? Why can’t you leave me alone?” Her plaintive tone made her cringe.

“Is that what you want, to be left alone?” He held her eyes, shook his head slowly. “I think you’ve been alone long enough.”

“I have not,” she sputtered. “I like being alone. And anyway, I’m not alone. I have friends. And my family. And now I have this.” She waved a hand to indicate their celebration, and the cause for it. “I don’t want a man. I don’t want you.”

That would have shut most men up, but this was Tyrell; his ego knew no bounds. He shook his head again, slowly. “Sweetheart, nobody likes to be alone. I’m sick of it myself.”

He sounded sincere and her heart almost went out to him. But then he shrugged like he was making the best of things. “I admit you’re a handful, sugar. Prickly as a porcupine, and you love to pick a fight—”

“I do
not
love to pick fights! That’s
you
. You needle me and needle me, trying to get a reaction, just like you’re doing now!”

He gave her a pitying look. “Nice try, honey, but your reverse psychology won’t work on me. Now, like I was saying, you’re prickly—”

“You’re a
jackass
!” she hissed. “Why did I ever—”

She stopped at his smug smile. His cockiness was unbelievable! If she didn’t get out of there, she’d be the one starting a brawl.

Standing abruptly, she shot a smile around the table. “Thanks for coming, everybody. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. But I have to be at work in a few hours, so I’m heading out.”

She’d caught them by surprise. “Hang on, Vic,” Matt said, “I’ll call you a cab.”

But Vicky wasn’t sticking around, not even to wait for Maddie, who’d picked the wrong time to go to the bathroom. “Don’t bother, Matt, I’ll hail one outside. Good night, everyone!”

And she beelined for the door.