He’d thought of that kiss--and the reasons behind it--several times since that night. True enough, they’d agreed to keep up the charade of an intimate relationship whenever outside observers were around. Her neighbors would have expected him to kiss her before leaving her for the evening. And yet, he was fully aware that he’d wanted to kiss her then, and had seized the first excuse to do so.
He wanted to kiss her again now.
“I had a very nice time with you tonight,” he said, testing her mood in the elevator.
She blinked a couple of times, as if the sound of his voice had roused her from deep thought, “I, um...what did you say?”
Wondering what she’d been pondering so intently, he repeated his comment.
“Oh. Well, the evening wasn’t as bad as I’d expected. I enjoyed the dancing.”
It was exactly a glowing endorsement of the event, but coming from Genae, it was close. “I was a bit surprised that you brought a reporter to our table.”
“I kind of liked her. Besides, she’s a real reporter, not one of those sleezy tabloid writers. Maybe if the media starts concentrating on your business again, they’ll stop focusing so intently on your private life.”
“I agree. Most of that attention came from the ‘America’s Most Eligible Bachelors’ article that was published last year. It was right after that absurd list that gossip started going around that I was seriously dating someone here in Little Rock, thinking about getting married, maybe. Now that so much of the columnists are feeling foolish because they can’t say with absolute certainty which twin I met and dated first, they’ve almost stopped saying anything at all about me.”
“Great,” she said a bit too heartily as the elevator doors slid open, “Then we’ve accomplished what we set out to do.”
He followed close behind her down the hallway toward her apartment, “That’s true--but we don’t want to abruptly stop seeing each other now, especially not before the wedding. That could start the gossip all over again.”
She sighed, “I guess you’re right,” she conceded grudgingly.
“So...what next? Do you have any upcoming special events at which we could be seen together?”
“I have no special events,” she replied, shoving her key into the lock of her door.
“I’ve noticed that you haven’t talked much about your life away from your shop. Other than dancing, what do you like to do for fun?”
“Oh, this and that. Goodnight, Brian.”
She’d slipped inside her door as soon as she opened it, and would have closed it in his face had he not reached out to block it, “I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee, if it isn’t too much trouble.”
She frowned, “Well, I...”
“We need to talk about our plans for the next couple of weeks,” he added, “While we have a chance to talk in private, I mean.”
Hesitating only another moment, she nodded and held the door open for him.
“I really do like your apartment,” he remarked, masking his satisfaction that she had allowed him inside. He wandered across the big, open main room to gaze out the window that dominated the back wall of her living room. Reflections of the moon and the city lights glittered like diamonds scattered across the black satin surface of the Arkansas River. The apartment itself was rather modest, containing the living room, an eat-in kitchen, a single bedroom and bath--maybe eight hundred square feet total--but the view was impressive.
“Thanks. I like it, too. Raylene prefers the suburban setting of west Little Rock, but I like being downtown. It’s been interesting seeing the area transform from a row of abandoned warehouses to a thriving neighborhood. I’m close to the main library and the Arkansas Repertory Theatre and the Alltel Arena is just across the river...so I can easily attend concerts and sporting events.”
He knew all this, of course, being a Little Rock native, himself. He could only assume she was babbling because it made her nervous to be alone with him in her apartment.
She must have realized what she was doing at the same time he did. “I’ll make the coffee.” She said, and hurried into the kitchen.
He moved to sit on the couch, his attention lingering for a moment on the intriguing shaped pottery pieces arranged on her glass-topped coffee table. Trying to find hints of her other interests, he looked around the colorfully decorated room, paying particular notice to a built-in bookcase crowded with an eclectic assortment of paperback novels and movies on DVD. Did she spent all her free hours alone here to her apartment, reading and watching films? That didn’t seem to mesh with what he knew of her, yet he saw no evidence to the contrary.
He knew Raylene had interests outside work; she enjoyed volunteering through several community service organizations and she had been taking pottery classes at the Arkansas Arts Center. He wondered if the pieces on Genae’s table included any of Raylene’s work. Raylene also enjoyed traveling, one of the mutual pastimes that Brian had considered a sign that he and Raylene had a great deal in common.
But Genae was still a mystery to him. Raylene had chatted openly about herself during their few discreet dinner dates; Genae had revealed almost nothing to him. He’d learned only this evening how much she enjoyed dancing, for example.
He wondered why she was so reticent about revealing anything about herself to him. Was it because she didn’t expect to spend much time with him after Raylene and Jonathan married? Or did she simply dislike him so much that she didn’t want him to know much about her?
If it was the latter, he’d have to see what he could do to change her attitude toward him. He had grown rather spoiled to having other people--of both genders--like and respect him, and he was well aware of that small conceit. But why wouldn’t she like him? He was a nice guy. Good company. A more than decent dancer. He wasn’t trying to charm her into falling desperately in love with him, of course, but he would like to think they could become friends in addition to reluctant co-conspirators.
She carried two mugs of coffee when she rejoined him. Handing him his mug, she settled into a chair with her own, eyeing him somewhat warily over the rim, “What did you want to talk about?”
He certainly had his work cut out for him. For whatever reason, she didn’t trust him entirely. That was a problem he would have to overcome before they could establish any sort of friendship, even a casual one. “The wedding is still three weeks away. I think we should probably be seen publicly together two or three more times prior to the wedding, and then a few more times afterward before we drop the pretense. Just to be on the safe side. Do you agree?”
“I suppose you’re right.”
He might have wished for a little more enthusiasm but he would settle for what he could get, “So far we’ve only been seen together at events that are related to my business dealings. Don’t you think we would be more believable as a couple if you introduce me to some of your friends? Don’t you have a party or a bowling team or something we can attend together?”
“A bowling team?”
He shrugged, “Just an example.”
“No, I don’t belong to a bowling team.”
“No upcoming parties? Club meetings? Business-related social functions?”
She kept her gaze focused on her coffee, “My calendar is fairly clear at the moment. I’m open to your suggestions about things we can do together.”
He had plenty of suggestions, but he doubted that many of them would appeal to her at the moment. Since she seemed to have no intention of voluntarily sharing her life with him, it looked as though it was up to him to keep trying to come up with ideas. “What do you like to do for fun? If not bowling, I mean.”
She shrugged, “Lots of things. Nothing in particular.”
She was one of the most elusive women he had ever met. Getting a straight answer from her was like trying to grab a handful of smoke, “I know you work Saturday, but are you free Sunday?”
“I can be.”
He nodded, “Then I’ll pick you up Sunday morning around 10:00. Dress very casually. Comfortably.”
“Where are we going?”
He hadn’t a clue--but he was sure he would come up with something, “I’ll surprise you.”
If she had looked nervous before, she appeared doubly so now. “Um...”
He flashed her a grin, “You trust me, don’t you?”
“Not as far as I can throw you,” she answered without hesitation.
He laughed and set his empty mug aside, “It’s getting late. I’d better go.”
She sprang out of her seat and hurried to the door as if anxious to see him out, “I’ll see you Sunday.”
“You could try sounding a little more enthusiastic,” he said as he moved toward her.
“I said I would cooperate with this plan, and I will. You think we should be seen together a little more for Raylene and Jonathan’s sake. I’ll take your word for it.”
“Very noble and self-sacrificing of you.”
A light blush tinted her fair cheeks, “There’s no reason for you to make fun of me.”
“I’m only teasing.” He paused in front of her to stroke her flushed cheek with his fingertips, “Raylene is very lucky to have you for a sister.”
Her color deepened, “She would do the same for me.”
“Yes, I know. You’re lucky to have each other.”
“You’re doing all this for Jonathan,” she reminded him.
“Of course. But it hasn’t really been such a hardship for me to spend time with you. I’ve enjoyed it, actually.”
The compliment only made her frown deepen, “Thank you...I guess.”
Shaking his head, he feigned a sigh, “Even if you are rough on my ego,” he added in a mutter.
She narrowed her eyes at him, “Bolstering your ego was not part of the deal.”
“True. But you can’t blame a guy for wishing.”
She put a hand on the doorknob, “Goodnight, Brian.”
He slid his hand around her neck, leaning closer to her.
He didn’t manage to catch her off guard this time.
She jumped away from him as if she were avoiding an electric shock, her scowl warning him off, “There’s no one watching us now. That isn’t necessary.”
“Practice?” He suggested hopefully.
She shook her head, “You hardly need any practice.”
Giving her a resigned smile, he said, “I’ll take that as a compliment. Thanks.”
She opened the door, “Go away, Brian. You’re giving me a headache.”
“You’d better stock up on aspirin. I’m going to be around for a while.”
As her door closed behind him, he thought he heard her mutter, “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
He was chuckling when he headed for the elevator--and looking forward to Sunday.
“Is something wrong with your shirt?” Raylene asked, “You keep pulling at the collar.”
“I, um...think it must have shrunk last time it was cleaned. Feels tight.”
“It doesn’t look too small. Anyway...would you like to join Jonathan and I for dinner and a movie tonight? He wants to get away from the wedding plans for a few hours. He’s picking me up here.”
Spending an evening as a third wheel on a date with the lovebirds? “Thanks, but I have other plans for the evening.”
“Oh? Are you seeing Brian tonight?”
“No, he and I have plans for tomorrow--at least he has plans. I’m just going along as a prop.”
“Should I remind you that you can call a halt to his anytime you like?”
“No reminders necessary.”
Raylene spent the next few minutes straightening her already-immaculate desk. Genae made a halfhearted, distracted attempt to bring some order to her own. Jonathan arrived, and Raylene left with him after Genae offered to lock up and set the security alarms.
Jonathan seemed a bit hesitant about leaving her there alone, but she reminded him dryly that she was hardly ever alone these days. She rarely saw Brian’s security people, but she knew they were usually hovering somewhere in the background. She doubted they hung around twenty-four hours a day, but someone was usually making sure she arrived home safely after work. She was growing accustomed to an itchy, nagging feeling of being watched by unseen eyes--but she hadn’t learned to like it.
Her plans for the evening did not include a bodyguard.
She made two stops on her roundabout trip home--a video store and the drive-through takeout window of a Chinese restaurant. She wanted to give every indication of a woman who planned to spend her Saturday night alone with egg rolls and Antonio Banderas.
Back at her apartment, she ate the egg rolls, and washed them down with a Pepsi, then changed from her work clothes into a skimpy, scoop-neck t-shirt and low-riding jeans. A round brush and a curling iron changed her sleek professional bob into a more rumpled, younger looking hairstyle, and sultry make-up altered her usual, everyday appearance.
Satisfied that she looked different from the responsible, practical businesswoman who reported to work every day, she slipped out of her apartment. She knew the building very well; there were two ways to get out that wouldn’t be expected by anyone who’d grown used to her usual routines.
There were times when Genae simply had to escape the imaginary cage she lived in for most of her life.
