What the Lady Wants Read online

  He stood and zipped up his pants, jammed his feet into his loafers and then felt in his pocket for his keys on his way to the door. Good, they were there. He grabbed his jacket from the table and threw the door open.

  Newton was standing there, one hand raised to knock. "Oh, good, you're home."

  "No, I'm not." Mitch pulled on his jacket as he tried to move past him, but Newton blocked his way.

  "You have to hear this." Newton's face gleamed with pride. "I've found out some astonishing things."

  "Good. Good for you." Mitch tried to dodge around him.

  Newton blinked at him. "What are you wearing? You look like Eurotrash. Where's your shirt?"

  "Not now, Newton." Mitch pushed past him into the hall and ran toward the stairs.

  "Wait!" Newton followed him at a more aloof shamble, losing in ground what he was gaining in dignity. "I've found out something—"

  Mitch ignored him and pounded down the stairs. Exercise was good. It kept him from exploding from the thought of Mae, naked in his arms.

  Then he burst through the street door and saw his car in the lights of the neon signs from the bars.

  All four tires were in ribbons.

  The seats were slashed down to the springs.

  And every piece of glass on the car was smashed to powder. Windshields, head-and taillights, even the glass on the dash.

  After an adult lifetime of firmly believing that other people can only annoy you if you let them, Mitch lost it.

  His scream was still echoing down the street when Newton pushed through the apartment-house door. "You know, somebody doesn't like you," he observed, blinking at the car.

  Mitch grabbed him by the jacket. "Where's your car?"

  "In the garage at the end of—"

  "Come on." Mitch gripped his sleeve and hauled him down the street.

  "I'll drive," Newton said firmly, trying to keep up without breaking a sweat.

  "The hell you will," Mitch said.

  A few minutes later, Mae realized she was still clutching the phone and stood to hang it up. She turned and caught sight of herself in the mirror.

  Her hair was in damp curls, and her face was naked. For that matter, so was she, under her robe.

  Oh, great, what now? Makeup? Hair dryer? Sexy nightgown?

  What sexy nightgown? She didn't own any sexy nightgowns.

  Oh, great.

  Mae started to pace. There was nothing to worry about. It wasn't as if this was her first time. It was just Mitch, after all.

  Mitch.

  She ran to the vanity and pulled a comb through her hair. Now she had damp straight hair. With a scream of frustration, she messed up her hair by scrambling her hands through it and then started to pace again, remembering all the things she'd said to him, and how she'd meant every one of them.

  If he'd just get here, she could stop having a nervous breakdown from anticipation and lose her mind making love with him.

  The thought made her stop pacing and close her eyes.

  Hurry up, Mitch, she thought, and then she started pacing again to keep from screaming.

  Interstate 75 was still a mass of orange barrels and single-lane traffic. Of course, it would be. Summer was construction season in Ohio, and all the barrels were in bloom. Mitch was so mad he hit one on purpose.

  "Try not to do that," Newton said from the passenger seat.

  "It was in my way."

  "Where is it exactly that we're going?"

  At another time with a clearer mind, Mitch might have told him. This time, he thought about where he was going and pressed harder on the pedal. The speedometer moved from eighty to ninety.

  "This is one-lane," Newton observed.

  A car loomed up ahead, growing larger instantaneously. Newton moaned, and Mitch hit the brake, screaming down to thirty before they came up behind it, bumper to bumper.

  "The hell with this." Mitch swung out onto the berm to pass him.

  Behind them, a siren wailed.

  Fifteen minutes later, Mae was climbing the walls.

  Where was he? A plethora of ideas crowded her mind: he'd met somebody else, he'd stopped for a sandwich, he'd had a new idea about where to look for the money, he'd changed his mind about making love to her, he'd stopped for condoms—

  She stopped pacing. Condoms. What if he didn't have any? She didn't have any. Oh, great. Maybe Harold and June— no. Birth control was no longer a problem for Harold and June. She thought about making an emergency call to Stormy, and then it hit her.

  There had been condoms in the box from Armand's town house.

  She flew down the hall to his room and rummaged in the box to grab a handful of the red foil packages. Then she ran back to her room and yanked open the worktable drawer and threw them inside.

  Then she sat down on the bed again and tried to stop breathing like a draft horse.

  Now all she needed was Mitch.

  Where was he?

  Mitch put the ticket in the breast pocket of his jacket and noticed for the first time that he wasn't wearing a shirt.

  He was out of control.

  "I'm sorry, Newton."

  "I'm sure you have your reasons."

  "I do." Mitch took a deep breath. "But I can't act like this." He thought about Mae again, and his head swam a little. It would not be good for him to go screaming into her bedroom. Think Cary Grant.

  "I know where some of the money went," Newton said.

  Mitch came back from Mae's bedroom. "What?"

  "The money. I know what happened to one and a half million of it."

  Mitch focused on Newton completely for the first time since Mae's phone call. "What?"

  "He gave it to Stormy."

  "What?"

  Newton nodded. "He bought her a condo—"

  "That I knew."

  "For five hundred thousand."

  Mitch turned the key and eased the car back onto the highway. "So where's the other million?"

  "Swiss bank account. His idea."

  Mitch turned to him, startled. "How the hell did you find that out?"

  "She told me."

  "She..." Words failed him.

  "At lunch. Today." Newton checked his watch. "I'm picking her up for dinner in a half hour. Where are we going? I don't want to be late."

  "Mae's." Mitch's voice was faint because he was stunned. "You're dating Stormy?"

  "Yes. Why are we going to Mae's?"

  "She called me." Mitch felt the heat rise again. No. He was going to be calm. Just like Cary Grant.

  He thought of Mae's smile, and Mae's laugh, and then he thought of Mae's body and gripped the wheel tighter.

  "Is she in trouble?" Newton asked, alarmed.

  "No. She just wanted me to come over."

  "Then why are we rushing like this?"

  Mitch met his eyes. "Because she wanted me. To come over. Now." He looked back at the road.

  Newton frowned at him for a moment. "I don't... Oh." His forehead cleared and he turned to look out the back window. "Step on it. I'll watch for the police."

  Mae was lying crosswise on her bed staring at the ceiling when she heard a car pull up in front. It didn't sound like the Catalina. For one thing, it had a working muffler. Great, she was getting company, and it wasn't Mitch.

  It was so unfair. Other women got great love scenes. She got the Keystone Kops.

  Then she heard someone pounding up the stairs, and there was a quick rap on the door, and then Mitch was in the room with her.

  She sat up as if she'd been catapulted and slid to her feet, stunned to see him there in the flesh. She blinked. Really in the flesh. He didn't have a shirt on under his jacket.

  He closed the door behind him and stood looking at her. "Hi."

  Mae blinked at him again. "Hi."

  His eyes traveled down her body, and she smoothed her satin robe nervously. "You look really nice," he said.

  She swallowed hard. "Thank you."

  He closed his eyes. "Mae, if you've changed