“Yes, rules. If we are going to do this, we are going to do it right.”
“Okay,” said Nick slowly.
“First of all, ask me.”
“Ask you what?”
“You haven’t asked me yet. You’ve told me and you’ve asked my parents but you haven’t asked me. And…” she held up a hand, “…before you do…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Think about this, Nick. Really, really think about this. Because you don’t have to do this. We can still take it back.”
Nick did think about it. A small part of him wanted the last hour never to have happened. He didn’t know what alien being had gotten loose in him and started this tidal wave but he was in it now. And he was too much of a gentleman to back out. And…he didn’t want to back out, he decided finally. He wanted this life. He wanted parents that were happily married. He wanted a girl who didn’t want or need anything from him, who wouldn’t steal his heart and then break it.
He wanted to be…he couldn’t pin it down…it was a sense of…comfort, no more than that…safety, that was it. He wanted to be safe.
“Abby,” he said, picking up her hand and looking into her eyes, “will you marry me?”
No, no, no, screamed her brain. Don’t do it. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I will.”
Nick put his mouth on hers and the ensuing kiss was almost enough to silence her brain.
“Rules!” she gasped when he moved his mouth down to her neck.
He let her go and backed up a step. “Okay, what are the rules?”
“This is what it is and we’re both clear on that, right?”
Nick nodded. “Yes.”
“Well then, we can never use the word ‘love’. You know how people throw that around. I love your hair. I love it when you smile like that. I love you when you’re…whatever. You know what I mean?”
Nick nodded again.
“We can’t do that,” said Abby. “Too confusing. Might lead to misunderstanding.”
Nick nodded a third time. “Okay. Next!”
“I’m the boss.” Emphatically stated.
Nick threw back his head and laughed. “You nut. I lo…you have a great sense of humor.”
Abby gave him a look of mock ferocity. “Say it.”
“Okay, okay, you’re the boss. Next!”
“Don’t hurt me.” The plea tore from her. She hadn’t meant to say that, but her heart pushed everything else out of the way and shoved the words out.
Nick took her face in his hands. His eyes stared into hers. “Listen to me very carefully, Abby. I will never hurt you. Do you hear me? Do you understand? I will never hurt you. This is going to work. I promise you. It won’t be that hard. Kristin and Kevin do it. And Brian and Leighanne. I’ve even heard them say that it works better that way sometimes, being apart.”
Abby’s heart turned to ice. She’d thought…if they were…wouldn’t they… She silently cursed herself for being an idiot. Remember your own words, you damn fool, she told herself. It is what it is. Tears sprang to her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said, erasing the air with her hand. “It’s a little too much. I’m sorry I’m being such a…such a girl!”
Nick pulled her into his arms. “Would you mind terribly if I took you upstairs now and made…” He stopped. He couldn’t think of a substitute for ‘make love’ that didn’t sound dirty. He opened his mouth a couple of times, but then closed it.
“Exception to the rule,” whispered Abby, sliding her arms around his neck and molding her body to his. “We will say ‘making love’.”
The kiss this time led to them being horizontal on the sofa, their bodies grinding together, their hands moving frantically, grabbing at clothing and body parts. When Abby finally managed to tug Nick’s shirt out of his pants, he came to his senses. He sat up, breathing heavily. “I can’t do this here,” he said, sweeping his arm to take in the living room, where the ghost of Sharon Fremont sat in the chair, staring at them over her reading glasses perched at the end of her nose.
“I hear you,” said Abby, standing up. “Let’s go to my place.”
“Because you’re the boss?” asked Nick, with a grin.
“No,” said Abby, punching him playfully on the shoulder. “Because I have an ensuite bathroom.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Veronica Ann Howell Fenton was more pissed than she had ever been in her whole life. She had planned for this evening carefully. Ever since Jeannette Fenton had confided to her that Nick Carter was coming to visit the Fremonts for Thanksgiving, Ronni had been planning her attack. She wanted to see Nick. And she wanted Ducky to see Nick see her. Ronni couldn’t believe that her Nick would have anything to do with a drab thing like Abigail Fremont. Although, Ronni had to admit, the Duckster had done a pretty big turnaround in the last couple of months. But no! Nick would never choose someone like that over Ronni.
It didn’t do Ronni any good to tell herself that Nick hadn’t chosen Abby over her, that it was, in fact, she who had left him. She became obsessed with it. She couldn’t mention it to James, of course. He didn’t even know who it was she’d been seeing in California. He’d never asked and when she’d once tried to confess it, he’d stopped her, saying that it was in the past and it should stay there. He didn’t want to know the man’s name. Ronni figured, rightly so, that James did not want to have to imagine his wife in bed with Brad Pitt, Keanu Reeves or Matt Damon. For some reason, James had assumed that it was an actor that Ronni had been with and she had never corrected that impression.
She couldn’t ask Jeannette Fenton. She was as stodgy as that holier-than-thou Sharon Fremont. And both Jeannette and Ronni’s own mother lived in such fear of being ostracized by the aforementioned ogre that they wouldn’t have told Ronni anything, even if they had any details.
So Ronni resorted to the Internet. During her California days with Nick, she had spent lots of time on it, teasing him, pointing out all the weird websites, reading fanfiction stories to him as foreplay. “Oh, do that to me, Nick,” she’d laugh. “Bring that foot-long throbbing member over here and do that to me.”
She didn’t find out much from the Internet either, except for one thing. Nick said that he had a girlfriend in Chicago. So Ronni guessed it was true. She had hinted to Jeannette that it would be nice to see Abigail again. Did Jeannette think she would come to the party with her parents?
“Don’t you remember, Veronica? Her young man is going to be in town.”
“Oh, that’s right. I’d forgotten. Do you think they’d both like to come or do you think that they’d find it too…?” Ronni waved her hand through the air and left it to Jeannette’s imagination to come up with the end of the sentence.
Jeannette dutifully invited Abigail and Nick to the party. Sharon accepted graciously on their behalf but told Jeannette that she really couldn’t say for certain, after all, you never knew what plans young people might have. Abigail had already told Sharon that she and Nick wouldn’t be attending, but Sharon figured she could bring them around.
Sharon had never heard of Nick Carter, but the reaction from her friends and associates at the news that he was seeing Abigail had made her find out about him. She understood the reaction even less once she had some information. She didn’t understand how these proper middle-aged women could get all dewy-eyed and dreamy at the thought of a twenty-something beach boy with a penchant for saying stupid things.
Ronni dressed carefully for the party. In fact, she overdressed. James kept telling her that it wasn’t a fancy party, more of a Christmas open house thing. Ronni told him that she didn’t care, she felt like dressing up. She never got a chance to dress up anymore. He never took her anywhere like that. James muttered darkly that he was sorry there were no movie premieres in Chicago and stalked from the room.
Ronni put on her dress, a slinky black sheathe with a slit up to here and cleavage down to there. She piled her hair up on her head. Nick had always liked her neck. She applied her makeup skillfully and dabbed perfume on her wrists and behind her ears. She slipped on a pair of shoes with tiny straps and stiletto heels.
“You look beautiful,” said James from the doorway. “If I didn’t think it would make us late, I’d tear that dress off you right now.” He came over to her and kissed her lightly on the cheek, so as not to smudge her lipstick.
“Later, Baby,” crooned Ronni, rubbing her hand over his crotch. “It will give you something to think about when the men start talking all that boring business stuff.”
James couldn’t make Ronni understand that “all that boring business stuff” was his life and he loved it. He had tried to talk to her about it a few times, but her eyes had glazed over in boredom. Just keep bringing home the money, honey, she had purred. I don’t really need to know how you get it.
James let Ronni fondle him for a moment. He slipped his hand into the top of her dress and teased her nipple. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “Mmm, Ni…” She opened her eyes. “Nice. That feels nice. But we’d better be going.”
James watched his wife walk down the hall ahead of him. Every man at the party tonight was going to want her, he knew. And every woman was going to think she was dressed like a whore. Especially his mother. And Sharon Fremont.
Ronni worked the room skillfully, laughing at the jokes the men made, patting them playfully on the arm and then moving on before any woman could get jealous. She kept moving but was never far from the door. She wanted to know when the Fremonts got there, so she could plan her assault.
The Fremonts were late, something that rarely happened. Ronni prowled the foyer like a cat and snapped her head around every time another visitor arrived. She had too much eggnog and not enough canapés.
The Fremonts finally arrived, bustling in with apologies and gifts for their hosts. “So sorry we’re late,” breathed Sharon and then she leaned over and whispered something in Jeannette’s ear.
“Sharon!” said her husband forcefully.
Sharon Fremont gave her husband a withering glance. “I’m not saying anything,” she hissed. She gave Jeannette a ‘tell you later’ look.
“Abigail and her young man didn’t make it then?” asked Miles Fenton, taking the Fremont coats.
“Oh, you know young lovers,” said Sharon. “They wanted some time to themselves. They’ve been stuck with us old folks for two days.”
“Sharon,” said John again.
“What?” asked his wife innocently. “Oh, hello Veronica. My, that’s a lovely dress.” Sharon thought the young blonde woman looked like a whore.
Ronni wanted to cry. Or scream. Or hit somebody. “Thank you, Mrs. Fremont,” she said through pinched lips and then she headed for the eggnog. And then she headed for the men.
On this circuit through the party, she didn’t move on before the wives got jealous. She waited until they did, tossing her head and laughing too loudly, running her hand down their husband’s arm and leaning her body into them. James was in a corner of the library talking business and she made sure that she didn’t go anywhere near him. But if that goddamn Nick wasn’t here to see how great she looked, then other people were.
“Stop this, Veronica. What’s the matter with you?” Miranda Howell cornered her daughter by the washroom. “You’re acting…sleazy.”
“Oh, don’t be silly, Mother,” said Ronni. “This party could use a little livening up. Don’t you think it’s a bit staid?”
“That’s what it’s supposed to be,” said her mother. Miranda Howell was reaping the benefits of having James Fenton as a son-in-law and she was making the most of it. She got invited to many things now that she hadn’t before. She was enjoying this new life and she did not want her daughter to spoil it for her. “We’re not in California.”
“No, we’re not,” said Ronni, and she got a faraway look in her eyes that her mother didn’t like.
“Behave yourself,” hissed her mother, turning away. “And don’t have any more to drink.”
Ronni went into the washroom and closed the door. She sat down on the toilet and nearly fell over. Uh oh, she thought. Maybe I have had a little too much of the old nog. She washed her hands and looked in the mirror. Her eyes were heavy and glassy. Okay, she thought. I’ll have some coffee. And then I’ll drag James out of that fucking library and make him take me home.
Ronni made her way through the dining room. She went into the kitchen, where the catering staff was busy refilling trays with hors d’oeuvres. She went up to a man in a white chef’s hat who was piping something pink into tiny puff pastry shells. “Excuse me,” she said, “do you think I could get a cup of coffee?”
The man looked her up and down. “Sure. Give me a sec, okay?” He finished what he was doing and carefully laid the pastry bag on a plate. “We’re not supposed to set out the coffee until later, but we’ve got a pot going here for the staff. Would you like some of it?”
“That’d be great,” said Ronni, looking around the kitchen. It was large and old-fashioned, a place designed with hired help in mind. There were five or six people working in here right now and the place didn’t seem over-crowded. Ronni thought maybe she’d like a kitchen like this when she and James bought their house in the New Year. She’d need the room, because she was going to be throwing a lot of parties.
Ronni accepted the cup of coffee from the chef and wandered over to look at the small bulletin board on the wall by the pantry door. She didn’t really feel like going back to the party just yet. She sipped the coffee and looked at the items posted. It was obviously the housekeeper’s board. There was a calendar with a different cute kitten for each month. The notations were about grocery deliveries and social events for the senior Fentons. A group of grocery receipts were held there by a thumbtack.
Ronni set down the coffee cup and was about to go back to the party when Jeannette Fenton sailed through the door, followed by Sharon Fremont. Ronni took a step back into the pantry, out of sight. Jeannette pulled Sharon by the hand away from the catering staff.
“Tell me,” she said. “What’s the big news? Why were you late?”
“I’m not allowed to say,” whispered Sharon. “John will be very angry if I tell and Abigail will have my head. I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”
“Give me a hint,” said Jeannette.
Sharon looked around. “You can’t say anything. Promise?”
“Yes, I promise.”
Sharon leaned in close to Jeannette and sang, “Dum, dum da dum.” The first four notes of the Wedding March. Here comes the bride.
“Ohhhh, Sharon, that’s wonderful,” cooed Jeannette. Then she stopped. “That is wonderful, isn’t it? You do like this boy?”
“Yes, I do,” said Sharon, solemnly. “He’s not what I would have wanted for her, but she loves him, so…”
The two women moved away. In the pantry, Ronni stood with her hands over her mouth to stop the scream of rage from coming out. Nick and Ducky! Engaged! No way! No way! It should have been Ronni. She should have stayed with Nick, she realized. Life in California was a lot more fun and exciting than life in Chicago.
Ronni moved past the workers and peered into the dining room. The coast was clear. She made her way to the library and found James. “There you are, Darling,” she said, slipping an arm around his waist. “Can I borrow my husband for a moment?” she breathed, allowing the other two men a good look down her dress.
She took James by the hand and led him upstairs. She went into the first room she came to. It was Miles Fenton’s study. She pulled James in and closed the door behind them.
“What is it, Ronni?” James asked in alarm. “Did something happen?”
“Fuck me, James.”
What? James simply stared at her.
“I want you to fuck me. Here.”
“But Ronni…honey…this is my dad’s study.”
“I don’t care,” said Ronni. “I want to do something exciting for a change.” She pushed him back into a red leather chair. She dropped to her knees in front of him and reached for his belt. He put his hand on hers to stop her.
“Somebody might come in,” he said.
Ronni gave him the sexy leer that told him she meant business. “So they can just tiptoe out or they can stay and watch,” she said, flicking his hand away and reaching for his zipper. She put her mouth over him and sucked him to a state of hard arousal. Then she stood up. She reached up under her dress and pulled off the tiny black thong she’d been wearing. She dropped it on the floor and turned her back to him. She pulled her dress up, exposing her ass. “Now fuck me,” she commanded, leaning over the desk and spreading her legs.
James didn’t need to be told twice. He’d wondered all evening what was up with Ronni. She had dressed so carefully and been so secretive and coy. He guessed she’d been planning this all along. It was so forbidden and exciting. She really knew how to push the right buttons with him. God, how he loved her, he thought as he pounded into her from behind. He was so lucky to have her…so lucky…so lucky.
