at least one of the real treats—having someone with whom to share the day’s events. Eric was a good listener, at least in his postcoital relaxed state. I told him about Andy and Lattesta’s visit, about Diantha’s appearance while I was sunbathing.
“I thought I tasted the sun on your skin,” he said, stroking my side. “Go on.”
So off I babbled like a brook in the spring, telling him about my rendezvous with Claude and Claudine and all they’d told me about Breandan and Dermot.
Eric was more alert when I was talking about the fairies. “I smelled fairies around the house,” he said. “But in my overwhelming anger at seeing your tiger-striped suitor, I put the thought aside. Who came here?”
“Well, this bad fairy named Murry, but don’t worry, I killed him,” I said. If I’d ever doubted I had Eric’s full attention, I didn’t doubt it any longer.
“How did you do that, my lover?” he asked very gently.
I explained, and by the time I got to the part where my great-grandfather and Dillon showed up, Eric sat up, the blanket falling away. He was completely serious and alert.
“The body is gone?” he asked for the third time, and I said, “Yes, Eric, it is.”
“It might be a good idea for you to stay in Shreveport,” Eric said. “You could even stay in my house.”
That was a first. I’d never been invited to Eric’s house before. I had no idea where it was. I was astonished and sort of touched.
“I really appreciate that,” I said, “but it would be awful hard for me to commute from Shreveport back here to work.”
“You would be much safer if you left your job until this problem with the fairies is resolved.” Eric cocked his head while he looked at me, his face quite expressionless.
“No, thanks,” I said. “Nice of you to offer. But it would be really inconvenient for you, I bet, and I know it would be for me.”
“Pam is the only other person I’ve invited to my home.”
I said brightly, “Only blondes permitted, huh?”
“I honor you with the invitation.” Still not a clue on his face. If I hadn’t been so used to reading peoples’ minds, maybe I could have interpreted his body language better. I was too accustomed to knowing what people really meant, no matter what words they spoke.
“Eric, I’m clueless,” I said. “Cards on the table, okay? I can tell you’re waiting for me to give you a certain reaction, but I have no idea what it is.”
He looked baffled; that’s what he looked.
“What are you after?” he asked me, shaking his head. The beautiful golden hair tumbled around his face in tangles. He was a total mess since we’d made love. He looked better than ever. Grossly unfair.
“What am I after?” He lay back down, and I turned on my side to face him. “I don’t think I’m after anything,” I said carefully. “I was after an orgasm, and I got plenty of those.” I smiled at him, hoping that was the right answer.
“You don’t want to quit your job?”
“Why would I quit my job? How would I live?” I asked blankly. Then, finally, I got it. “Did you think that since we made whoopee and you said I was yours, I’d want to quit work and keep house for you? Eat candy all day, let you eat me all night?”
Yep, that was it. His face confirmed it. I didn’t know how to feel. Hurt? Angry? No, I’d had enough of all that today. I couldn’t pump another strong emotion to the surface if I had all night. “Eric, I like to work,” I said mildly. “I need to get out of the house every day and mingle with people. If I stay away, it’s like a deafening clamor when I get back. It’s much better for me to deal with people, to stay used to keeping all those voices in the background.” I wasn’t explaining very well. “Plus, I like being at the bar. I like seeing everyone I work with. I guess giving people alcohol isn’t exactly noble or a public service; maybe the opposite. But I’m good at what I do, and it suits me. Are you saying . . . What are you saying?”
Eric looked uncertain, an expression that sat oddly on his normally self-assured face. “This is what other women have wanted from me,” he said. “I was trying to offer it before you asked for it.”