Beware of Doug Read online

  For a long moment the three of them stood silent in the echoing aftermath of Tricia’s rage. Brady looked off down the street, his mouth a grim line. On his cheek was a vivid red mark in the shape of an outraged blonde’s palm.

  After a minute, Lily could stand it no longer.

  “So,” she said slowly, “she seems nice.”

  “Ooh, a pilot,” Lily’s friend Penelope said the following morning in the dog park.

  Fredericksburg, Virginia, where Lily lived, had moved the city dog park over the summer when Lily had been on sabbatical in Boston, from the busy intersection of Kenmore and William Streets, to a sleepier area near the tennis courts and Memorial Park. It was a fine location, the dogs certainly liked it, but it was not nearly so centrally located as the last one. Which was a shame. Lily had liked seeing who drove by, liked waving to students who honked as they passed, and walking from there to Hyperion Espresso just up the street a few blocks.

  But so be it. At least this one had a fence that Doug couldn’t wriggle through. Lily watched as the dog concentrated with otherworldly intensity on a family of ducks that swam in the reservoir just next to the park.

  “Is he nice-looking?” Penelope asked.

  Lily looked at her friend and smiled ruefully. “Yes, in a very, very bad way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Georgia, another friend, who lounged on a folding canvas chair she had brought herself, snorted, and said, “I know what she means. So when are you havin’ us over to meet this bad boy, hm? Some of us are not put off by trouble.”

  She rested a beringed hand on her huge, steel blue Great Dane, Sage, who sat beside her chair like one of those cement statues people bought for their gardens.

  Penelope frowned at Georgia. “Yes, I know,” she said. “Some of us are actually attracted to it, Ms. I-Brought-Down-The-Mayor.”

  “Oh please, I didn’t bring down the mayor,” Georgia said, with a wave of her hand. She looked pleased nonetheless. “He wasn’t just sleepin’ with me, you know. His wife would have found out he was cheatin’ on her one way or another.”

  “Yes,” Penelope said archly, “but without you she wouldn’t have found out about it in her own driveway.”

  Lily laughed. “That’s true. I have half a mind to set you up with this guy, Georgia. In fact, maybe you’ll meet him at Megan’s party.”

  “But that’s weeks away,” Georgia complained.

  “Ooh, yes. He works for Sutter, doesn’t he? I bet he will be there,” Penelope mused. “And I’ve got a new dress…”

  “I don’t know, Pen. I don’t think he’s right for you. In fact, if I had to pick I have to say I think this guy needs a good dose of ‘bringing down,’ Georgia style,” Lily said. “You should have been there for the scene that played out in front of Nathan and me yesterday.” She proceeded to tell the story of the irate blonde.

  “Oh, poor Nathan,” Georgia mused when she was finished.

  “Poor Nathan?” Lily echoed. “Don’t you mean poor Brady? Or, more accurately, poor Tricia?”

  “No, I mean Nathan.” Georgia shook her curly blond hair. “The poor thing has been in love with you for years, and now he has to contend with a macho pilot next door? This’ll probably kill him.”

  “Nathan is not in love with me.” Lily put a hand on her hip. “He’s just…a good friend.”

  This time both Georgia and Penelope snorted.

  “Really.” Lily sighed. “I mean, I know he likes me. But he is not in love with me. He knows we’re just friends.”

  “Honey”—Georgia laughed—“he’d be sleepin’ on your welcome mat if it weren’t for fear of being castrated by Doug when you came out for your mornin’ paper.”

  “I do have to say,” Penelope said, nodding, “I think Doug is the only reason Nathan isn’t over at your house every night offering to fix your screen door or your leaky faucet or hammer nails for you.”

  “Or hammer you.” Georgia cackled. “If it weren’t for Doug, he’d have invited himself into your bed years ago.”

  “Come on,” Lily protested. “Nathan’s a nice guy. Why do you have to be so mean about him?”

  “We’re not being mean,” Penelope said. “It’s just that he’s in love with you, and you should be aware of it.”

  “Especially now that a stud muffin has moved in next door.” Georgia picked at a chip in one of her polished nails. “Nathan’s pecker is probably goin’ to shrivel like a petunia under a pine tree unless he gets somethin’ from you soon.”

  Lily turned on Georgia, half-laughing, her hands on her hips. “What are you saying? You think I should sleep with Nathan to make him feel better about Brady?”

  “It’s the only nice thing to do,” Georgia said primly, brushing nail polish chips off her lap. “Otherwise, he’s goin’ to lose what little self-esteem he has left. You don’t want to be responsible for that, do you?”

  “I am not responsible for Nathan’s self-esteem, good or bad. And I am not a public service—sexpert,” Lily declared, then laughed.

  Georgia and Penelope joined her. “Oh, honey,” Georgia said, “that’s classic. I’m goin’ to have to remember that one. A sexpert.”

  “Besides, what would Gerald say if I had sex with Nathan?” Lily imagined Gerald’s gray eyes hardening to flint, his dark hair dipping over his brows as he shook her, à la Heathcliff with Catherine, saying, If he loved you with all the power of his soul for a whole lifetime, he couldn’t love you as much as I do in a single day.

  Lily sighed. Sure, she was a literature professor, but she loved the movie version of Wuthering Heights. Nobody could deliver a line like that like Olivier. Except, of course, her mental Gerald.

  “Ah yes. Gerald the magnificent,” Georgia said, laying her head back and holding her arms out expansively. She raised a brow and eyed Lily askance. “I imagine he would be upset if he thought your infatuation with him was wanin’. So when is your next date with Mr. Elusive?”

  “It is not infatuation. And he is not elusive. He’s asked me out, hasn’t he? Four times, now.”

  “Finally,” Georgia said, eyelids heavy with disapproval. “He’s known you’ve been interested in him forever, and he’s strung you along like his own personal puppy dog.”

  “He hasn’t strung me along. I strung myself,” Lily said, “because of who he is. And I’ve respected the fact that Gerald wanted to make partner on his own merits, not because he’s dating the boss’s daughter.”

  “So he’s made partner?” Georgia asked dubiously.

  “Any minute now,” she said decisively. “And besides,” she added, turning to search for Doug, “Doug actually seems to like him. Can you imagine? He’s the only man on the planet to whom Doug hasn’t done something awful, like chew up his shoes, or rip his pant leg.”

  She found the dog intently sniffing the ground near the picnic table, ready, Lily was sure, to roll in a family of grubs or some other disgusting item. Doug loved to adorn himself with dead things.

  “That is something,” Penelope said. “Though you do have to wonder if he’s planning something bigger for later.”

  Lily laughed. “Planning something bigger,” she scoffed. “Listen to you. As if Doug thinks of anything beyond the moment he’s in. No, I think it’s a sign. Gerald couldn’t wait any longer to ask me out, and Doug doesn’t hate him—there are good signs everywhere.”

  “Except that he abandoned his resolve to wait until he made partner,” Georgia said.

  Penelope frowned. “I thought it was a little strange that he actually told you he didn’t want to date you until he made partner.”

  “Why?” Lily protested. “I thought it was admirable that he didn’t want to get ahead by dating the boss’s daughter.”

  Penelope’s dog—a big black Labrador retriever—ran over to her with a saliva-drenched stick. She took it from him and tossed it, sending him tearing across the park. “It seemed a little…overconfident,” she said.

  “Girls, we’re ignoring the ce
ntral issue,” Georgia said. “If he hasn’t made partner yet, why did he ask you out now?”

  “I told you,” Lily said, feeling her face heat with defensiveness. “He decided he couldn’t wait any longer.”

  “But—I’m so sorry to be negative, Lil, but I think it’s important,” Penelope said, “has he kissed you good night yet? If his passion made him abandon his resolve to wait, where is it when he’s with you?”

  “Hammer?” Georgia quipped. “Meet nail.”

  “He kisses me good night every time,” Lily said, though admittedly her tone was weak.

  “You know,” Penelope said, “a real kiss. You’re the one who said it was just a lukewarm peck on the cheek.”

  “Okay, no, he hasn’t. But he’s a gentleman,” Lily said, throwing her hands out to the sides. “I know it’s weird, but it’s not the end of the world that he’s a little slower than we expect, is it? Maybe that’s even a good thing. Would we be less worried if he were jumping my bones?”

  Penelope appeared to consider.

  Georgia threw her head back. “Hell, yeah!”

  “Look,” Lily said firmly, “all I know is, the guy is finally asking me out. You guys should be happy for me.”

  “Honey, I would be,” Georgia said, sobering. “If not for the fact that for the last two years the only thing he’s condescended to do with you is go out for coffee. No drinks, no dinner, and—”

  “And no play tickets,” Penelope added. “Don’t forget those incredibly expensive seats to Phantom of the Opera you sprang for.”

  “How could he put you off for so long?” Georgia said. “What’s different now? He still hasn’t made partner.”

  Lily shifted her weight on her feet and crossed her arms over her chest. “He got tired of waiting,” she said again, clinging to the idea. “Like me.”

  “I’m sure he did,” Georgia said. “The question is, was he tired of waitin’ for you or for that partnership?”

  Lily turned on Georgia. “That is so insulting, Georgia. How can you call yourself my friend and say something like that? Is it so inconceivable to you that he might actually like me, the way I like him?”

  Georgia leaned forward and grabbed Lily’s forearm. Her expression changed from droll to determined. “Lily, I am your friend. That’s precisely why I’m sayin’ these things. I don’t want you to get hurt, and I’m afraid this guy is—or, all right, could be—usin’ you.”

  “That’s only because you don’t understand the finer points of chivalrous behavior or respectable relationships,” Lily said, extricating her arm from Georgia’s grip.

  “Oh no, not another lecture on nineteenth-century literature,” Georgia moaned, leaning back in her chair. “You talk like you’re a born-again virgin. Since when did you become Elizabeth Bennett?”

  “No, that’s Pride and Prejudice. It’s Emma Wood house,” Penelope corrected, “to Gerald’s Mr. Knightley. From Jane Austen’s Emma. I’m reading it now, and it’s wonderful!”

  “Stick a star on her forehead,” Georgia muttered.

  “And it really is true,” Penelope continued enthusiastically. “Gerald is just like Mr. Knightley, the hero in Emma. Knightley was the old friend of the family, close to Emma and her father for years. And Gerald is close to Lily and her father, and has been for years. Knightley was known for being the perfect gentleman, and clearly so is Gerald. Knightley and Emma took forever to get together, but when they did it was perfect. And you said yourself your father loves Gerald, right?”

  “Yes, he does. And I admit to having said a time or two that Gerald feels like my Mr. Knightley.” Lily blushed. “But I’m not hung up on that. Really, I’m not that naïve. It was just something I thought about, you know, the way you do when you like someone. The main thing is that I believe romance, true romance, isn’t dead until we kill it with our tacky twenty-first-century mores. Gerald has a sense of propriety and restraint that I admire, and find attractive.”

  Georgia rolled her eyes. “Careful, Lil. It’s easy to put a fantasy into a void. Gerald may seem like the perfect gentleman, but you never know. It could just be impotence.”

  Two

  Brady sat on the front porch with a beer, listening to the sounds of female laughter emanating from Lily’s side of the house. She had company, and while he couldn’t hear what they said, they certainly seemed to be having fun.

  It had grown chilly again, and a light drizzle fell outside the protection of the porch roof. The air smelled like soil, rich and loamy, and the sounds of raindrops on the newly minted leaves made him think of childhood. He had lived a long time in a high-rise, surrounded by other high-rises, in the cement environment of a city. He’d forgotten how peaceful a neighborhood could be.

  Granted, he was still technically in “the city”—Fredericksburg city—walking distance from its shops and restaurants, but this little town was quiet and quaint, not a hot, heaving monster like DC.

  When the Realtor had first told him she’d found a “duplex,” he’d pictured some ugly, boxy thing circa 1960; but this house—a “twin house,” he’d been told—was a tall old Victorian with elaborate detailing and huge, high-ceilinged rooms. The two front doors and long porch with a rail separating the two sides were the only indications that it held two separate living spaces.

  Across the street were a row of houses of probably the same vintage as this one—built in the nineteenth century—with one or two eighteenth-century models thrown in. The trees were huge, the sidewalks cracked with age, and aside from the parked cars he could easily picture the street as it might have been a century and a half earlier. The whole place oozed history.

  He liked it. It would make a nice change. Not to mention that there might be more pissed-off women than just Tricia he should get away from.

  He took a pull off his beer and looked up at the cloud-covered sky. He’d screwed up, badly. That was what came of getting bored and feeling invulnerable. You took advantage of people without even realizing it.

  He was not proud of himself.

  “You can change,” his brother Keenan had said, after telling him that where women were concerned he had “overgrazed” and that it was probably time to leave the city. “Look at this as a fresh start. A new life. Take a break from dating and decide you’re not going to take what’s handed out to you anymore. Think of it as being on a diet at a cocktail party. Take nothing that’s offered. Save your appetite for the big meal.”

  Brady chuckled, picturing an hors d’oeuvres platter covered with small, pretty women. And in the middle, sitting up, was Lily Tyler, giving him that sweet but audacious smile and looking for all the world like a challenge worth taking.

  He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. He was on a diet. A date diet. Keenan was right. He needed a break.

  He’d tried to be a good guy, had always been up front with women he’d dated about taking things casually, not wanting commitment, but Tricia had taught him that no matter what you said, some women were going to hear only what they wanted to hear.

  Granted, Tricia was certifiably nuts. But still. He hadn’t seen it in her, not until it was too late. And he’d even seen Fatal Attraction.

  No, he needed to get out of the game for a while, maybe learn how to get to know a woman, make friends with her, before diving into the unknown. According to Keenan, there was no halfway in relationships. Just happy people and unhappy people.

  Brady guessed he’d made a lot of people unhappy.

  It was a shock, he thought, taking another long draw off his beer, realizing what an asshole you’d been when you’d had no idea at all.

  The door of Lily’s house opened, letting a stream of light and warmth out onto the front porch and steps. Brady turned his head, leaned back on the porch column, and hoped the night shrouded his side. Music tinkled low in the background—Al Green, singing “I’m So Tired of Being Alone.” He smiled at the irony.

  A second later, Lily’s porch light came on and a woman with a wide mass of curly blond hai
r came out the door, zipping up a raincoat.

  “Well, shit and goddamn,” the woman said in a strong North Carolina accent. “It’s still rainin’.”

  Brady raised his brows. A woman who spoke her mind.

  Lily stood in the doorway, her hair as dark as melted chocolate, accentuating that peaches-and-cream complexion. It figured, he thought, that on his new diet he’d end up next door to a world-class ten-thousand-calorie dessert. In her arms she held the ugliest dog Brady had ever seen. It was white with black blotches, small, but square, with a smashed face and enormous bat ears. On its face was a wide doggy grin that, if worn by a human, would mark a man not to be trusted.

  “Why don’t you take my umbrella?” Lily said.

  “No, no. Give it to Penelope, she melts in the rain. I’ll be fine. I have a hood.” She pulled said hood up over her head and tucked in the curls around her face. “Besides, there’s nobody I have to look good for at home, anyway, thank the good Lord.”

  She leaned over, and the two women kissed cheeks.

  “Good night, honey.” She patted the dog on the head.

  “Careful driving,” Lily said, closing the door as the blonde turned away.

  Al Green and Lily disappeared.

  The woman took a moment on the front stoop, looking out into the rain as if bracing herself for it. Brady took another sip of beer, and the movement must have caught her eye. She turned toward him. Her face was pale and round under the hood, and she cocked her head.

  “Well, well,” she drawled. He could hear the smile in her voice. It was a tone he recognized well. “You must be the new kid on the block.”

  She sauntered over to the railing that split Lily’s porch from Brady’s and put one hand on a column. With Lily’s porch light on he could clearly see the woman’s long, red fingernails and a couple of gold rings on each hand. With her other hand, she pushed the hood back off her head to reveal those curls and a hard, pretty face that showed an unnerving shrewdness.