Under the Covers (20 page)

"Lots of swingers, not your run-of-the-mill suburban party," the old man had said.

And he obviously didn't mean swing dancing.

Hmm.
Had Abby been part of that swinger crowd?

Before he'd met her, he might have said yes. Then again, she had winked at him when she thought he was a woman.

No, he still didn't think she was a swinger. She was too damn sweet.

Sweet—when had he decided she was anything but manipulative?

Would she slip and give something away at the interview tonight?

* * *

"You know, Dr. Jensen," Wynona Crawfish said, "I've seen
Sex and the City
and
Bridget Jones,
and I want to be more like those women." Wynona pulled at her threadbare T-shirt. "But Leroy says we live in the suburbs and we're not supposed to do that kinky stuff. He says the missionary position has worked for years and why should an old dog try new tricks?"

Abby winced. She'd heard the same complaint before from men in their late forties and fifties. "Is your relationship working for you, Wynona?" Abby asked gently.

"No." Wynona shuffled on worn tennis shoes. "I'm so bored sometimes I fall asleep, and he doesn't even realize it."

"That bad, huh?"

"I'm telling you, Doc, I might as well be a sack of flour beneath him. He's so routine I can time him down to the second." She pulled her disheveled hair into a ponytail and tied it with a faded ribbon. "First the left breast. Three squeezes and a tweak. Then the right one. Same thing. Then a kiss on the cheek. A grunt. Next he starts lapping at me like a dog with his tongue." She shook her head in disgust. "I thought I'd get used to him drooling but sometimes he gives me a spit bath, and I have to wipe my face on the pillowcase when he's done."

Abby laced her fingers together, trying to squelch the image.

"Last week I closed my eyes and planned my dinner menu for the week while he finished."

"I'm sorry."

"And I read that section about foreplay." Wynona planted short, stubby hands on her plump hips. "Do you know what Leroy thinks is foreplay?"

Abby was almost afraid to ask.

"He mutes the television after the news and turns to me and grunts."

The man was hopeless.

"All I have to do is nod yes or no." She threw her hands in the air. "Most of the time I don't think it matters one way or the other to him."

"Actually men peak sexually at an earlier age than women," Abby explained. "Unfortunately while their drive is dwindling, the female is just becoming comfortable with her sexuality and ready to experiment with more exciting positions."

"I certainly need something more exciting than Leroy." She dropped into the chair and sighed. "I might as well have sex by myself."

Abby calmed Wynona, then helped her outline a plan to wake Leroy up from his sexual slumber. Feeling marginally better, she reminded herself that the pain of Lenny's desertion would ease every day. Soon the publicity of her book would die down and she could simply do her job as she wanted.

And when she saw Harry Henderson tonight, his sexy swagger wouldn't even faze her.

* * *

Round and round and round and round...

Hunter gripped the metal brace of the sky buckets, trying desperately to keep his head from being jerked off by the ride. His stomach was already doing backflips.

Beside him, Lizzie screamed. "This is so much fun, Daddy! Angelica loves it, too!"

Hunter forced his aching face into a smile and nodded, wincing when Lizzie let loose a bloodcurdling scream. Her laughter followed, the excitement in her eyes measuring a high point on the Richter scale of fun that equaled his distaste for the torture devices. He hadn't liked the rides as a kid and he hated them thirty times more now.

He couldn't admit the truth to Lizzie, though. Not when she'd think him a big wimp if he chickened out. And not when she'd hugged him fiercely at the end of each ride, her eyes, shining up at him as though he'd hung the moon.

Round and round and round and round...

"Wheeeeeeeeee!" Lizzie threw her hands in the air, not bothering to hold on as the bucket slung her into his side. The other kids' screams pierced his consciousness, the dizzying motion blurring his vision.

He was about to lose his lunch right on his own shoes.

He swallowed and prayed for miracles.

Finally, the sinister metal contraption screeched to a stop. Lizzie jumped out, eyes wide, hair standing on ends, and tugged his hand. "Come on, Daddy! Now let's ride Drop Dead, Fred. Hurry before the line gets too long!"

The sacrifices a father had to make.
She dragged him along the line, and finally the attendant snapped a set of ropes around his waist, fastening Lizzie in front of him before he could open his mouth. Within a nanosecond, he was being strung up like a side of beef and dropped like the peach in downtown Atlanta on New Year's Eve, heading straight toward the ground at a record-breaking speed of fifty miles an hour. He tightened his grip on Lizzie, forgot he was a grown man, and screamed. The pool of water rushed toward him like quicksand ready to suck him under.

* * *

An hour later, after cotton candy and hot dogs, and a ride on something called the Sky Coaster that had turned him upside down and scared the cotton candy out of him, he dropped Lizzie at his ex-wife's house.

Lizze hugged his neck tight. "That was the bestest day, Daddy."

Hunter nodded, fighting nausea. He'd hated every minute of the rides. But he'd loved every minute with his little girl. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, pumpkin." He picked her up and nuzzled her neck. "I'll see you this weekend, okay?"

" 'Kay." She planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek, tucking Angelica under her arm to grab his hand. "Where you going now?"

He hesitated, not knowing how to explain his assignment. "I... I'm working on an interview."

"With that sex lady?"

He chewed the inside of his cheek. "What do you know about sex, Lizzie?"

"It's when people kiss yucky with their tongues."

His baby shouldn't know all this stuff. She was too young.

The lights flickered on from the top balcony of the house and Shelly opened the French doors to come out. He did not want a confrontation with her. "I'll see you Friday night." He kissed Lizzie's cheek, then watched her go inside, his heart clenching when the big marble door closed behind her.

His stomach still churning, he drove to the TV station to meet Abby Jensen. He grimaced as he glanced into the rearview mirror and saw his pasty white skin. How was he supposed to play her sexy husband when he felt like hell and looked like he'd been run over by a Mack truck?

Maybe he should skip this interview tonight.

No, Abby Jensen was the person who'd put all those crazy ideas in his ex-wife's head in the first place. She had cost him his marriage and his daughter, and he couldn't forget it.

Lizzie's face flashed into his mind, her powdery baby-doll scent lingering on his clothes. Yes, he had to go through with it.

He would do anything to move up at work, so he would have more time to spend with Lizzie and to make her proud of him.

* * *

Abby studied the television program's set, impressed with the professional staff of
HotAtlanta,
a new cable show that featured locals, highlighting their talents and achievements. The host, an exotic Asian woman named Kay Lin, had sung praises about Abby's book when she'd arrived and had instantly put Abby at ease with her calm demeanor.

Harry Henderson completely shattered her composure, though, when he strode in, all six-feet-three of pure muscle and male attitude.

On second glance, however, his flirty smile wavered, the color had drained from his face, and his fake dark hair was sticking up like spikes. Worse, his mustache hung askew as if he'd slapped it on at the last minute in a drunken stupor.

Aware cameras were everywhere, Abby rushed to him, grabbed his face, and twisted the mustache upright. He stumbled backward, his shoes squeaking as water seeped from the Italian loafers, leaving footprints on the plush gray carpeting. And a strange odor drifted upward....

"Sorry," he murmured. "Guess I was in a rush."

Abby frowned, ignoring the fact that his Tom Selleck looks lit a fire inside her even when he appeared a little worse for wear.

Kay Lin glanced at the soggy carpet, then at Harry, then ushered him to the green room, while Abby settled into the love seat for the interview. A few minutes later, Harry wobbled back in, still looking shaken, but his cheeks were rosy with makeup.

Soft trumpet music signaled the introduction of the show; then Kay Lin launched onto the set, hitting the highlights of Abby's book like a pro, summarizing some of the basic communication problems Abby had described and the differences between men's and women's thinking.

"Tell us, Dr. Jensen, if you had to choose one piece of advice from your book, the one you feel is most important, what would it be?"

No need to labor over that question. "I would tell people to listen to their lovers."

Harry squeezed her hand, sending shards of awareness through her as he murmured, "Yes, trust and communication is the key."

Abby tensed, but he toyed with her fingers, pulling them into his lap. His palms felt clammy, the only sign of his nerves.

"That's right," Abby said softly, reminding herself he was simply playing his part. "You can't communicate effectively without trust. Whether you're trying to discuss finances, your future, your dreams, or your children, or if you're making love."

"Do you two plan to have children?"

Abby's heart squeezed. "I adore children. Yes, I'd love to have a family someday."

"Kids are the greatest thing in the world." The sincerity in his voice surprised her; then she remembered he had a daughter. Maybe Harry wasn't so irresponsible after all. What had gone wrong with his marriage...?

"It's obvious you two won't be waiting long," Kay Lin said with a laugh. "Now, Dr. Jensen. You have some exercises in your book that you suggest couples do to improve their relationships. Would you and your husband demonstrate one for us?"

The air jammed in Abby's windpipe. Harry's sideways cocky grin rattled her even more. "Of course we'd love to, wouldn't we, sweetheart?" Harry brushed his lips across her fingers. "We want everyone's marriage to be as perfect as ours."

Chapter 13

Listening to Your Lover

A perfect lie. If the audience only knew...

"I suppose we could demonstrate some techniques," Abby murmured, shifting restlessly.

"Great. Before we get started, though, I have a couple more questions. Your book has unleashed some controversy," Kay Lin commented. "Most psychologists say people model their behavior and relationships after their parents' relationships. Would you agree?"

"Sometimes, yes," Abby said. "But not always. A percentage of children recognize their parents' problems and search for a different kind of relationship."

"Is that how you turned into a proponent for the traditional family when your own parents never married?"

A slight intake of breath revealed Abby's nerves, but she quickly masked her emotions. "I suppose so, although as therapist I try to avoid self-analysis."

"Would you indulge us, though, for a moment and speak briefly about your own childhood?"

Obviously uncomfortable, Abby laced her hands on her knees. "It's true my parents never married. My mother is a free spirit, and grew up in the seventies, when love and peace and living together had just become popular, so I guess you could say she was asserting her independence. A woman of the times." Abby laughed. "Or maybe a little ahead of the times."

The audience chuckled, playing into her hand like putty.

"And your father?"

"My father adored her, but they ultimately had irreconcilable differences." Traces of pain softened her tone.

"On the other hand, I was very close to my grandparents. They've been together for sixty years, so they provided the inspiration for my beliefs about marriage." She paused. "Also, I think when someone has been deprived of the kind of family he or she wants, that deprivation will motivate him to strive to build a good relationship of his own."

Kay Lin nodded. "And what about you, Mr. Jensen? Did you grow up in a stable family?"

"I had two parents, yes, although they didn't always see eye to eye." He remembered his act just in time to clasp Abby's hands in his and place them over his heart. "But Abby and I plan to have a long and happy life together, don't we, sweetheart?"

His gaze met hers and she nodded, but he recognized deep pain simmering below the surface, and emotions plucked at him.

How could he write a story about this woman and hurt her when she actually seemed sincere about her beliefs? She honestly thought she was helping people. Maybe she did help some individuals.

But she had torn his family apart without even meeting all of them. Shelly had thrown Abby's words in his face time and again in the last weeks of their marriage, pointing out how he failed on any number of counts. His mind drifted back over the time they were together, the differences in them, the fact that Shelly had always complained about him, that she had never been happy.