Jennifer Crusie - GETTING RID OF BRADLEY

“Sure.” Zack ran his hands up her back. “Who do you want to be?”

“I, of course, will be the innocent schoolteacher.” Lucy batted her eyes at him.

“Which makes me the cop. All right, you have the right to remain naked.”

Lucy laughed.

“Innocent schoolteacher, huh?” Zack watched her eyes close as he moved his hands over her. “This isn’t going to work.”

“Why not?” Lucy popped her eyes open.

“You’re not that good an actress.” Zack rolled and pinned her beneath him.

“Well, I used to be an innocent schoolteacher,” Lucy said, and then he took her mouth, and she drowned in the heat there. Thank goodness, I’m not anymore, she thought, and then she thought of nothing but Zack.

THE DAY DRIFTED BY, a mix of unpleasant reminders like the forensics unit showing up to take Lucy’s bedroom apart, and mindless pleasures like laughing over lunch and playing with the dogs in the backyard. Everything was back to normal between them except that they were being very careful not to discuss anything controversial, like marriage. By the time dinner was over, Lucy still didn’t know what she wanted in the future, but she knew what she wanted in the immediate present. She wanted Zack.

She leaned against the dining-room table and watched him as he sat on the floor and talked to the dogs.

And wanted him.

It was a new feeling for her, this helpless love and lust and longing that grew while she watched him. She’d never felt more out of control and had never enjoyed a feeling more.

She just wasn’t sure what to do about it.

Zack looked up at her and caught her watching him, and she blinked.

“Say it,” Zack said.

“What?”

“Say it” He grinned at her from the floor, Maxwell in his lap. “I’ve been meaning to mention that to you. You’re about as transparent as window glass.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Every time you start to say something you think you shouldn’t say, you stop and blink.”

“You’re kidding,” Lucy said, wide-eyed.

“Nope. Every damn time. Anthony noticed it, too.”

Lucy felt herself blush. “Well, that’s humiliating.”

“No, it’s not.” Zack’s smile washed over her, and she stopped blushing. “We thought it was cute. Anyway, the point is, you don’t have to do that with me. There’s nothing that you can’t say to me. Just say it.”

Lucy opened her mouth and shut it again.

“Say it” Zack tipped Maxwell off his lap and stood. He stepped toward her and put his face close to hers and his hands on each side of her on the table, trapping her there. “Nothing you can say will shock me. Just spit it out, honey.”

“Make love to me here,” Lucy said suddenly, as if she had to get the words out fast. “On the dining-room table. Right now.”

“What?”

“Now,” Lucy said. “I want you now. On the table.”

“I was wrong,” Zack said. “I’m shocked.”

“Well,” Lucy began, and then he put his hands on her waist and boosted her up onto the table.

“And delighted. Did I mention ‘delighted’?” He moved himself between her knees, parting her legs as he moved closer to her, pulling her skirt up as he moved his hands up her thighs. “Don’t you ever blink again. I might have missed this.” Then he kissed her, and she fell into his heat, moving her hands across his shoulders to the back of his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair as he pulled her hips hard against him and licked his tongue into her mouth. She wrapped her legs around him, and he moved against her once and then stopped.

“Lucy.”

“Don’t stop,” she said into his neck. “You feel so good.”

“Oh, you do, too. Believe me, stopping is not what I want.” He laced his fingers in her hair and pulled her head back to look into her eyes. “But I forgot. The condoms are upstairs. So you have a choice. You can sit down here and think hot thoughts while I set the land-speed record for a round trip on two flights of stairs, or you can set one with me and we can make it a one-way sprint. Your choice.”

Lucy licked her lips. “Can we do it on the table some other time?”

“Often,” Zack said fervently. “Whenever you want. I swear.”

“One-way trip.” Lucy slid off the table and down Zack at the same time. “Don’t dawdle.”

She kissed him hard and then raced into the living room, heading for the stairs while he recovered from the rush her slide had given him.

“You know, I used to think you were an old-fashioned girl,” Zack called after her. “Thank God I was wrong.” Then, having given her a healthy head start, he started running, too.

WHEN ANTHONY RANG the doorbell the next day, Zack answered then left Anthony to close the front door while he went back to Lucy in the living room.

“Absolutely not,” he said to her. “No way.”

Lucy sat down on the arm of one of the overstuffed chairs and visibly gathered her patience.

“What is it now?” Anthony asked, keeping an eye on Heisenberg, who had rolled over onto his back. “Lucy getting stir-crazy again?”

“She wants to paint the kitchen floor.” Zack ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation. “Can you imagine? A great hardwood floor, and she wants to paint it.”

“It’s water-stained!” Lucy wailed. “It’s all blotchy! It looks ugly, and if we painted it…”

“No,” Zack said. “It looks just like my grandma’s floor. You let it be. We’ll just varnish it, and it’ll look great.”

“I don’t think so…” Lucy began, but Zack’s mind had already leaped to another subject.

“Have we got anything to eat? I’m starving. Nachos, that’s what I need. Have we got nachos?” He turned toward the kitchen.

Anthony watched him, dumbfounded, and then turned to Lucy. “What have you done with Zack’s brain?”

Lucy stood to follow Zack. “What brain? I don’t think he has one. I think he’s just one giant exposed nerve ending. I swear sometimes at night, I can hear his neurons snapping like popcorn.”

“Why does he give a damn about your kitchen floor?”

“Well, he sort of discovered it a couple of days ago, and I think he bonded with it. And now I’m not going to be able to paint it because it would break his heart, and it’s blotchy.”

Anthony looked at her closely for the first time since he’d walked in the room. She was wearing one of Zack’s shirts with the top three buttons unbuttoned and tight jeans with the cuffs rolled up. Her hair was a halo of rumpled auburn curls, there was color in her cheeks from arguing with Zack, and she stood resolutely with her hands on her hips and her feet planted firmly apart, glaring at the kitchen and presumably at Zack inside it.

She looked positive and confident and alive and glowing. And pretty damn sexy.

Zack stuck his head out the kitchen door. “I found the nachos. Am I cooking for one, two, or three?”

“You’re cooking?” Anthony said.

Zack looked at him in mild surprise. “Well, I have to eat.”

“Three,” Lucy said. “And remember, if the cheese explodes in the microwave…”

“I’ll clean it up. Big deal.” Heisenberg barked and Zack looked down. “Dead dog,” he said, and went back into the kitchen, and Heisenberg rolled over, quivering with pleasure, and trotted into the kitchen, too.

“This is eerie,” Anthony said. “It’s like the Night of the Living Yuppies.”

“Watch your mouth,” Lucy said. “We never Yup.”

“You know those old science-fiction movies where the mad scientist puts a steel cap on a human being and another steel cap on a chimpanzee and pulls a switch, and their brains scramble?” Anthony looked toward the kitchen. “That’s what this reminds me of.”