Complicated, Page 3

  Victoria frowned, doing her best to keep her dignified façade. But when she turned on her heel, she stretched her sore thigh muscle and couldn’t help but suck in a sharp breath.

  “See,” Jeanie exclaimed victoriously. “You got fucked good last night, and I want to know who he is.”

  Realizing it was useless to deny it, Victoria took a long sip of coffee and relented. “Maybe I did. But I’m not about to tell you who it was.”

  “You have to! I don’t have any excitement myself—there’s only so much excitement to be found in four cats. Who is it? Is it someone at work? Jason?”

  Victoria snorted inelegantly at the thought of fucking the skinny twenty-five-year-old who worked in the rare-books room of the university library. “Give me a little credit. I really can’t tell you, Jeanie. I’m not just being mean. We’re trying to keep it quiet.”

  Jeanie looked disappointed, but she didn’t complain. Just said, “Well, at least tell me about it. Are you in love? Is this why I’ve caught you smiling goofily for the last two months.”

  “What?” Victoria gasped, offended by the very idea. “I have not smiled goofily. And I’m definitely not in love. It’s just sex. Totally casual. We have a good time, fuck a couple times a week, and then go on with our lives. It’s the perfect relationship.”

  “I wouldn’t have pegged you as that cynical. Don’t you want to fall in love?”

  “Maybe.” Victoria shrugged. “But not now. Every relationship I’ve been in has been ridiculously complicated and—no matter what happens—I’m always the one who ends up getting hurt. Remember last year when I dated Mark? I was stressed out for months, not knowing if it was serious, hoping it was serious, then all upset because it wasn’t serious after all. I’m sick of messing with it. I might want to settle down and get married sometime in the future. But not now. This is much easier and less complicated, and neither of us is going to get hurt.”

  “You think?”

  “Yes. We agreed from the beginning it was just about sex. We don’t share our deepest secrets, we don’t talk about our childhoods, and we don’t spill our guts or anything. We have a few laughs and then we fuck. There are far too many complications for anything more.”

  Jeanie was leaning forward, obviously intrigued. “Like what?”

  “Like family things,” Victoria said vaguely, thinking of Greg’s brother who’d just been elected governor. “And we’re at different stages in life.”

  “He’s eighteen, isn’t he? Is he a student?” Jeanie demanded with a malicious smile.

  Victoria rolled her eyes. “No! He’s older. And our lifestyles are really different.” That was definitely true. Greg’s family had a long history of influence and power in the state, and generations of Stones had contributed to the family wealth. His brother had always been in the limelight—on the news, in magazines, at every important event in the city—although Greg was more private. He avoided the press like the plague. She really knew very little about him, except he was an executive for a successful, gourmet grocery store chain and he’d had a wife who had died seven or eight years ago.

  She only knew that because she remembered hearing about it shortly after she’d moved to the city, having just got a job at the university.

  “Is he a swinger?”

  “Stop it,” Victoria objected. “You’re not going to get it out of me by being stupid. I like my life the way it is. I don’t want complications. I just want some good sex occasionally, and that’s what I’m getting from him.”

  “Is it really that good?”

  To her disgust, Victoria felt herself blushing. “It’s the best sex I’ve ever had. I’ve always dated guys my own age, and they’re either clueless, selfish, or too eager.”

  “This guy isn’t eager?”

  Victoria vividly remembered Greg’s hot urgency last night and felt her whole body flush.

  “Damn. I’m jealous. You’re getting hot just thinking about this guy.”

  “I am not,” Victoria insisted, pulling herself together. “Anyway, he has plenty of experience. And he’s patient, takes his time, knows what he’s doing. It’s the best sex of my life. Plus, I don’t have to worry about annoying complications or getting hurt.”

  Jeanie looked skeptical again. “I guess so. But if I were having a fling with this skillful, patient hunk of a man, I might want to do a little more than fuck him.”

  Victoria shook her head. “I’m not saying I don’t like him. But I’m not about to fall in love. There’s no reason things have to be as messy as people make them.” She finished off her coffee and poured herself another cup.

  “Who would have thought little-miss-prim-and-proper would be having a sordid affair.” Jeanie looked delighted at the thought.

  Victoria frowned. “It’s not sordid. And I’m not as traditional as everything thinks.”

  She was traditional in a lot of ways—at least, she always had been. She had a quiet upbringing, her life had revolved around school, and her family and her social circle had always been small. She hadn’t lost her virginity until she’d been twenty-two years old.

  She’d thought she’d been in love with that guy, but he’d moved on a few months later.

  About a year ago, after her failed relationship with Mark, Victoria had taken a long look at her life and decided it was all right, but kind of boring. Since then, she’d been trying to take a few more risks, to try some different things. She’d taken a vacation to the Caribbean six months ago by herself. And she’d volunteered to work on a political campaign she never would have bothered with before.

  Then she’d met Greg, and she’d done the most irresponsible, spontaneous thing in all thirty-one years of her life.

  And she was loving it.

  “I’m having a good time,” she said at last. “And for once I’m not making it complicated.”

  “All right. All right.” Jeanie muttered under her breath. “But sometimes complications are fun.”

  ***

  That afternoon, Victoria was heading back to her office when she noticed that no one was behind the check-out desk and two female students were waiting with books in their hands. The workstudy student usually handled check-outs, but Victoria walked over to the desk and smiled a greeting at the students.

  “Sorry you had to wait. Did you want to check those out?”

  The taller girl handed the books to Victoria. The girl looked like a freshman, although sometimes it was hard to tell the difference. She was young and pretty—with dark hair, brown eyes, and a slim figure. Something about the line of her jaw struck Victoria as familiar.

  Instead of returning her smile, the girl just stared at her intently, her eyes taking in the wrinkled vintage suit, the small glasses, and the Mary Jane heels. “Are you Victoria Ray?”

  Victoria blinked. “Yes. I am. Can I help you?”

  The girl’s blank stare transformed into a glare of cold resentment. “You must be the bitch who’s fucking my dad.”

  Victoria’s mouth dropped open.

  Her life had just gotten complicated.

  Two

  “I’m not mad at her,” Victoria insisted, pushing her hair behind her ear distractedly. It was long—falling down to the middle of her back—and she was used to pulling it back in a chignon. She’d let it down when she was finally able to take a shower after work, and she hadn’t had time to put it back up before Greg had stopped by her apartment.

  He’d never been to her apartment before. But after getting the nearly incoherent message she’d left him this afternoon, he’d evidently decided it would be wise to stop by on his way home.

  “I just don’t want her to be mad at me.” Victoria was wearing a clingy bathrobe, which was more than she’d been wearing last night. But she still felt self-conscious and undressed next to Greg in his expensive gray business suit and red tie.

  “She’s not mad at you,” Greg began, reaching out to put a conciliatory hand on her shoulder.

  She jerked away from his to
uch, unable to explain her defensive reaction. “She called me a bitch. There was nothing ambiguous about it.”

  Greg’s mouth twisted, and he pushed a hand through his dark hair in obvious frustration. “She was upset. It’s not personal.”

  “It felt personal to me,” Victoria snapped. “I’m the one who’s fucking her dad!”

  She couldn’t read Greg’s expression. He stared at her, something tense and reluctant in his eyes.

  He looked so handsome and affluent and mature—nothing like the boys she used to date—and she had a horrible suspicion about what he was going to say to her now.

  She didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to hear him tell her they had to end their affair because his daughter couldn’t accept it.

  But she also didn’t want the heavy weight in her stomach, the sign that sex with Greg had brought more than pleasure and excitement after all.

  With a choked sound in her throat, she turned on her heel and moved into the main room of her apartment. She headed over to her desk and pretended to sort a pile of books, although she couldn’t even read the titles printed on their spines.

  Her eyes burned and her throat ached. And she didn’t understand how her casual fling had turned into this mess in less than two hours.

  “Victoria,” Greg said, following her into the room and standing behind her when she didn’t turn around. “Let’s at least talk about it.”

  “What’s to talk about?” Her voice was shriller than she’d intended, and it only got shriller as she added, “I didn’t even know you had a daughter.”

  She’d probably heard he had a daughter—years ago when the name Greg Stone meant nothing to her—but she’d never made the connection in the last three months. If he was vigilant about his own privacy, he must have been even more vigilant about his daughter’s.

  “I wasn’t hiding her from you,” he said softly. “I keep her out of the press on purpose, and we just never talked about that kind of thing.”

  “I know.” Swallowing hard, she controlled her expression and turned around. “I’m not blaming you or anything. It was just really upsetting. I’m the kind of person who always avoids confrontation. She…she hated me. I’ve always been a normal, harmless person. I’m not used to people hating me.”

  She’d always been quiet, smart, and a little aloof. But mostly harmless—keeping her opinions to herself. She didn’t like conflict, and meeting Greg’s daughter had totally thrown her off-balance.

  “She doesn’t hate you,” Greg insisted, holding her by the shoulders. “I’m serious. She’s upset. She found out on her own and thinks I’ve been hiding it from her. I guess I have. But how exactly was I supposed to tell her…” His voice trailed off, and he shook his head. “She’s angrier with me than with you. Ever since her mom died, I’m all she’s had.”

  “How did she even find out?” She’d assumed Greg wouldn’t have told his daughter intentionally.

  You didn’t tell your daughter that you were having meaningless sex with a woman twelve years younger than you.

  “I guess she has a friend who works the front desk at the hotel.” Greg closed his eyes and tugged at his hair. “Last night.”

  “Oh.”

  “It will take her a little time to adjust. But I’ve talked to her, and I’ll talk to her again. She’s not a child anymore, and she has to know I’ve not lived like a monk since her mom died.”

  Victoria groaned in mortification and turned around again to face the pile of books on her desk.

  She could imagine very vividly how Greg’s daughter must feel. What she must think of Victoria. How she must resent her. Victoria would have felt the same if she’d been in the girl’s situation.

  Victoria couldn’t believe she’d turned into this woman.

  “I’m not going to come in between you and your daughter,” she said, her voice oddly hoarse.

  “You won’t. We would have needed to work this out anyway—no matter who I happened to be with.” He took a step forward until he was pressed against her back. Wrapping his arms around her, he murmured, “Nothing needs to change between you and me.”

  Victoria gave an undignified snort, even as she instinctively relaxed back into his strong embrace. He felt so big and warm and solid behind her, and he smelled so incredible—masculine and faintly expensive. “It has changed. I never thought of you as a father before.”

  “I am a father,” he admitted, rubbing his jaw against her cheek. He was bristly again, as he always was in the evenings. She loved the way it felt when his rough skin scraped against hers. “But I’ve been one for as long as you’ve known me, and this has never been about who we are when we’re not together.”

  It was true. And it was oddly freeing at the same time it felt like a kick in the gut.

  This was just physical. Just sex.

  And it didn’t matter who Greg was when they weren’t fucking—whether he had a family she hadn’t thought about, what he was like at work, what he did on Saturdays, whether he liked to watch sports on TV.

  None of that mattered, any more than her life mattered to him.

  All that had ever mattered was the sex.

  That was what both of them had agreed to.

  That was what she’d wanted.

  And the strange ache of loss in her belly was completely irrational.

  “Right.”

  He kissed her jaw. Then the side of her throat. And one of his hands moved up to her breast.

  “Greg, I don’t really feel like it tonight.”

  His hand moved back down to her waist, but he didn’t remove his arms from around her.

  “I’m not being bitchy or anything. I was just really upset earlier and don’t feel sexy tonight.”

  “Okay,” Greg said.

  She waited, somehow sure that he’d withdraw, that he was going to end this after all. What he wanted from her was sex and—if he couldn’t get it when he wanted—why would he even bother?

  He was silent for a long moment, during which she could hear her heart pounding in her chest.

  Finally he said, “Do you want to spend the weekend with me?”

  Victoria stiffened and looked over her shoulder to stare at him in astonishment.

  Greg frowned, looking a little uncomfortable at her obvious shock. “I just thought maybe it would give you time to adjust. You could come to my place.”

  She almost choked. “To your place? With your daughter?”

  “Fuck, no,” Greg said hoarsely. “She’s in college. She’s lived in the dorms for two years. Besides, she’s going on a weekend trip. I have the place to myself.”

  This news reassured Victoria, and she was immediately tempted to accept. Spending the weekend with Greg—just the two of them—sounded like heaven.

  But going to his place might change things. Might make everything more of a tangle.

  She needed to be honest with herself, and that kind of weekend had the potential to raise expectations in her that could never materialize.

  But he didn’t want to end this. He wanted to spend the weekend with her.

  She wanted to spend the weekend with him.

  She’d just need to be careful and realistic about the whole thing.

  “Okay,” she agreed, her voice cracking a little.

  “Good.” He brushed his lips against her loose, blonde hair and inhaled deeply, as if he was smelling it.

  It caused the most inexplicable sensation in Victoria’s belly—half-thrill and half-terror.

  “You should wear your hair down more often,” he added, finally releasing his hold on her waist. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled despite herself. “Sorry I kind of freaked out.”

  “I’m sorry you had to learn about my daughter that way. She’s a little spoiled, but she’s a nice girl. She’ll come around.”

  Victoria showed him to the door, feeling exhausted, confused, and kind of fluttery.

  She got even flutterier when Greg stood in the doorwa
y staring at her before she closed the door.

  His look was so intent, so deep, that she squirmed and finally asked, “What?”

  Greg shook his head slowly. “Victoria, there’s nothing harmless about you.”

  She swung the door shut in a panic with only a mumbled “Good night.”

  Then spent the rest of the evening trying to figure out what he’d meant.

  ***

  On Friday evening, she showed up at his house—a gorgeous, colonial style residence in one of the exclusive neighborhoods outside the city. She was armed with her weekend bag and a no-nonsense attitude.

  She was going to enjoy this relationship for what it was—great sex with a desirable man—and not let anything else get in the way.

  She’d spent her whole life over-thinking things, talking herself out of taking any risks. Investing herself in relationships that would only hurt her, the way she’d done with Mark. And she wasn’t going to do that now.

  There was nothing wrong with good, simple sex. She was going to indulge in it when it was offered.

  They ate dinner and had sex Friday night. Then they slept in late and spent a leisurely Saturday morning in bed, drinking coffee and having sex again with slow, easy languor. It was after noon when they finally managed to get up.

  Greg went to take a shower while Victoria went into the kitchen to find something to eat.

  As long as they’d been in bed, Victoria had felt safe and comfortable. A bed was a bed, whether it was in a hotel or in Greg’s home.

  But the rest of the house made her nervous. There were family photos she was afraid to look at, books lying around that Greg must read in his spare time, unexpected details like an aquarium full of tropical fish and a half-finished list in the kitchen that looked like things he was reminding himself to get at the store.

  Greg lived here every day. It felt private, domestic, intimate.

  But it didn’t feel safe. Partly because this was the rest of Greg’s life that she had no claim to, and partly because she couldn’t get his daughter out of her mind. The girl had lived here too and probably stopped by quite often to say hi to her dad or do her laundry for free.