Chapter Two
Walter slipped the card into the door lock and turned the handle. Moving
to the side, he let Linda enter the hotel room first, another chivalrous (and
superfluous, in his opinion) move Toby and Cabe had told him to do.
"It's very nice." She set down her suitcase on the nearest bed. "Smells
clean."
"Uh, yeah." He hadn't noticed before she mentioned it, but it did smell
like disinfectant and some kind of scent he couldn't identify. At least it
smelled better than some rooms he had stayed in before.
It was half past midnight. He was tired. The eight hour drive had depleted
whatever energy he had left after the crazy day he'd had; saving Toby, dealing
with Collins, the whole proposal debacle. That last painful scene with Paige.
Linda had slept part of the way. A fact for which he was grateful because
it had been too taxing to keep trying to make conversation with her. She had
chattered about a couple of television programs she watched, The Bachelor
and Big Brother (both which had sounded vapid and ridiculous) for several
hundred miles. It had been a relief when she had fallen asleep just south
of Bishop.
"Let's go to bed," he suggested as he put his bag on the floor.
"Uh, okaaay," she said, a stunned expression on her face. "I need to use
the bathroom. Unless you need to. . ."
"No, I'm fine," he replied as he turned away, lifting his duffel onto the
other bed. Unzipping his duffel, he heard her doing the same with her luggage.
He was in the middle of pulling out his sweatpants when the bathroom door
closed. He undressed, put on the sweats, sniffed his t-shirt, found it still
acceptable and left it on, moved his bag off the bed before crawling into
the middle of it. Picking up the book on hydrophysics he had brought with
him, he found his place and started reading.
He'd read about twenty-five pages when the bathroom door opened again. Good,
he wanted to say good night before turning off the light over his bed and
going to sleep. Turning to do just that, he received the shock of his life.
Linda stood there, wearing a floaty red thing with bits of white lace scattered
about it. It was sheer and left nothing to the imagination. He could clearly
see her nipples and pubic hair through the scraps of fabric.
"Do you like it?" she asked before spinning around a full 360 degrees.
Oh, shit, she wanted to have sex. It had never even crossed his mind until
that moment. And as he stared, he realized he wasn't stirred at all by her
and her skimpy attire. Closing his eyes, an image of a different woman wearing
the same outfit caused lust to surge through him so powerfully, it left him
breathless.
"You. . .you. . .you're expecting. . .uh. . .inter. . .intercourse?" he
finally choked out, glancing at her once again. Nothing. In fact, looking
at her had the opposite effect.
"Yes, we've been dating for three months," she replied, looking at him with
an expression he recognized as annoyance. "Most guys expect sex on the third
date. This is like our twelfth. I thought. . .well, you did invite me to spend
the weekend with you. I thought it meant we were finally going to do. . it.
. you know, what you said. . .intercourse."
He had stopped paying full attention to her after she mentioned three dates.
Tim and Paige had gone out three times. Did that mean they had. . . His heart
skipped a beat. Of course, it did. They were normal, healthy, consenting adults.
The odds they had sex were overwhelming.
His stomach churned violently. He shouldn't care. He couldn't have her.
Not if he wanted to keep her in his life. And if it meant accepting her having
a relationship with someone else, he had to deal with it and move on with
his own life, no matter how painful it would be.
He and Linda had been dating three months. He'd never had a relationship
last longer than that before. If he wanted to jump over that invisible hurdle,
he had to take the next step. Sex. Intercourse.
"Okay," he said, putting his book aside and sliding off the bed. Before
he could change his mind, he placed his hands on her shoulders, and bent
down, touching her lips with his. She enthusiastically threw herself into
the kiss, thrusting her tongue into his mouth. Gagging a little, he moved
his mouth to her neck, kissing his way downward. Closing his eyes, pictures
floated through his brain, pictures which inflamed him. He started to move
his hands down her back and pulled her closer.
"Paige," he moaned as his lips touched the top swell of her breast.
A loud crack and a stinging left cheek brought him back to the real world
and the real woman standing angrily before him.
"I'm sorry," he said automatically. He knew enough about women to know they
didn't like to be mistaken for someone else. What he'd been doing had to be
unforgivable.
"I knew it!" Linda crossed her arms over her chest. "I wondered why you
kept asking me out when it was obvious you two are in love with each other.
I guess I thought you were my hero, not hers."
He started to protest but then lowered his head. "I'm sorry," he repeated.
Toby had been right. Again. Dammit.
"You had no intention of ever sleeping with me, did you?" she asked. He
shook his head. "How long were you going to string me along, letting me think
we were going somewhere?"
"I don't know," he answered honestly. He doubted he would have let it go
so far as marriage, since it was an out-dated institution he didn't believe
in, plus there was only one woman whom he could ever imagine marrying.
He'd screwed this up so badly. He hadn't meant to hurt her. But then he
never did, it just happened. "Linda, I'm. . ."
"Oh, so now you remember my name," she snapped. "I. . . I want to go back
home. Right now." She glanced down at the lingerie she was wearing. "Well,
not right now, after I change. You're going to pay for me to fly back. I don't
think I can stand another minute in your company, let alone another eight
hour car trip."
"Okay." He didn't think he could handle another drive with her either. Especially
not now. She stomped back into the bathroom and he could hear her muttering
to herself about what a fool she'd been. He knew exactly how she felt.
He quickly changed back into his regular clothes, stuffing everything into
his duffel. It took her only a few minutes to change back into the outfit
she'd worn earlier. "Ready?" he asked when she emerged from the bathroom.
"Oh, yes." She marched toward the door. "More than ready."
Walter felt like an idiot as he returned the key card and settled the bill
for what had been a stay of just over an hour. When the clerk asked why they
had changed their minds, he had mumbled, "Because I'm a moron."
An hour later, he had dropped Linda off at the airport, had given her money
for a flight, and was in his car on his way back to Los Angeles.