Susan Mallery: Why Not Tonight

“There’s a storm, Natalie. What are you doing here?”

“A storm? Really? I hadn’t noticed, what with sliding off the road and almost drowning on my way up the walk. Wow. A storm! Who knew.”

He grabbed her arm and pulled her into the house. “Now I know you’re upset. You’re almost never sarcastic. What happened?”

“What happened?” she asked as she dripped on his tile floor. “That’s not the question.” She tried to wipe the moisture off her face only to realize her wet hair was the ongoing source. “The question is, why aren’t you dead?”

Ronan stared at her for a second. “Did you hit your head?”

“No. I didn’t. I slammed into a tree, which was not my fault, by the way. It was the mud.” She felt herself starting to shake, no doubt from shock and his air-conditioning. “You didn’t answer your phone. I texted, then I called like eleven times. Everyone was worried, and since they’re all more important than me, I was tasked with coming up to check on you.”

“I left my phone in my locker at the studio in town.” One shoulder rose and lowered. “Probably why you couldn’t hear it when you called.”

“At work?” Her voice grew louder. “You left your phone at work and because of that I had to come all the way out here?”

The same shoulder rose and lowered again. “Sorry.” He looked her up and down. “You’re soaked and freezing. Come on. Let’s get you dry.” He turned away and started down a long hallway.

Natalie tried to go after him only to realize she still had just one shoe. She toed it off, then followed him barefoot, dripping and shivering. Not exactly her finest hour.

“This is your fault,” she said as she caught up with him. “You could have—”

“I don’t have a landline.”

“Sent an email,” she said triumphantly. “When you realized your phone was missing, you should have emailed one of us.”

“I didn’t think it would matter. It was only a couple of days.”

“Five. It’s been five days since anyone saw you.”

He glanced at her, his eyebrows raised.

“Oh, please. I only know because it’s my job to know. Don’t flatter yourself.”

Not that she didn’t find Ronan attractive. How could she not? He was tall and muscled, with light brown hair and green eyes all put together in a dreamy package. A woman would have to be totally, well, she wasn’t sure what not to notice his good looks, but still. There was no way he had to know that.

“Do you think I like babysitting you and your brothers?” she asked, trying to sound haughty and put-out, which was tough considering how hard she and her voice were shaking. “If you’d all just show up and do your jobs, but nooo. You have to live out here in the mountains, like some troll.”

She followed him into a huge bedroom dominated by a big bed and a stone fireplace. She was about to continue complaining about how all this was his fault, but then she caught sight of a massive piece of glass by a turret-shaped window. Stunned, amazed and overwhelmed, she thought she might never speak again. How could she in the presence of something so incredible?

The statue had to be at least eight feet tall and was done in every shade of blue known to God and man. Part sprite, part fairy, all female, the glorious creature seemed to twirl right there before her. The wings appeared to keep her aloft and her feet would dance any second. She was curvy and naked, both sexual and otherworldly.

Natalie squished across the hardwood floor to the piece and put her hand as close as she could without touching her. Her face was beautiful—all angles and lines, as if to emphasize she wasn’t quite human. Her hair was short and spiky, her lips parted in such a way that Natalie half expected to hear song or at least words.

“No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend,” she said before she could stop herself. “Who could possibly measure up?”

“We’ve never actually had sex.” His tone was dry, almost amused.

“You should have made her anatomically correct.” She circled her, studying the beautiful lines of the piece and wishing she were a quarter as talented as Ronan. “Although the positioning would be tough. Still, she would be worth it.”

“Is there anything you won’t say?”

She thought for a second. “Probably not. I try not to be mean or hurtful, but otherwise I’m not much into self-editing. It takes a lot of work.”

“Come on. You need to get warm.”

It was only when they entered the huge bathroom complete with steam shower, a tub for four and matching vanities that she realized they’d been in his bedroom and now were in his bathroom.

Yes, she thought Ronan was very handsome, and okay, sure, she’d had the odd naughty daydream about him, but shouldn’t there at least be a bit of conversation first?

“Wh-what are you doing?” she asked as he punched several buttons on a complicated keypad outside the shower.

“Getting you warmed up. Wait here.”

He disappeared into what she guessed was the closet, then reappeared with a T-shirt, socks, a sweatshirt and sweatpants.

“They’re going to be way too big, but you have to wear something while your clothes are drying. We’ll wash them when you’re done.”

“Will we?”

He walked back to the panel and pushed another button. After a couple of seconds, water came on and the shower began to fill up with steam.

“I’m going to leave now,” he told her. “Take a shower. A long one. When you’re warm and dry, come find me. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Not waiting for her in bed? The thought occurred without warning and caused Natalie to wonder if maybe she had hit her head. At best, Ronan saw her as a cross between a useful piece of office equipment and a baby sister. At worst, he found her annoying. Men did not, as a rule, find annoying women attractive. Plus there was the sprite. Who could compete with her?

“How do I turn off the shower?” she asked.

He pointed to a red button with the word Off printed on it.

“Oh. Good. I can do that.”

“I have every confidence. Now get in the shower.”

“There’s no need to be bossy. I was doing a good thing when I drove up here to find out if you were dead. And I have no idea what I would have done if there’d been a body. So technically, this is your fault. You could have emailed.”

“You mentioned that already.” He pointed to the shower. “Get in.”

She pointed to the door. “Get out.”

One corner of his mouth turned up. “Yes, ma’am.” He turned and left.

“Annoying man,” she muttered as she tugged her wet, muddy, clammy dress over her head and dropped it on the floor, then put her glasses on the counter. But the words were said without much energy, and as she stepped into the shower, she found she was smiling.

* * *

RONAN CLOSED THE bathroom door behind him before walking out of the bedroom. He stopped in the doorway, turned and looked back at the glass piece by the window. Even in the dim light of the storm, she seemed almost alive.

He’d created her—had designed the various segments that made up the whole, had played with color until he found the right combination and had, with help from his brothers, brought her to life from inert glass. She was one of his best. Something he could be proud of. He should hang on to that because he was unlikely to do better. In the past few months, he’d discovered he was unlikely to do much of anything at all. Whatever talent he’d had, whatever creative ability, was gone and he had no idea how to get it back.

He turned away from the window and headed for the kitchen. Once there, he boiled water for tea, then walked into the fully stocked pantry to see what the part-time housekeeper had left for him that Natalie might like. He settled on a can of chicken soup and put it in a bowl to heat in the microwave.