High Noon Page 0,77

sex? Shoving at her dripping hair, she began to obsessively backtrack and count. Ava's son's friend's neighbor Wilson-Ava had arranged the date, pushed for it until Phoebe caved. He'd turned out to be very nice, Phoebe remembered. Kind of sweet with his shy smile and little goatee. He liked country music and football, and had been on the tail end of a divorce. They'd enjoyed each other's company enough to date a few times, and she'd slept with him twice. It had been, she recalled, nice. The same way he'd been nice.

And then he'd reconciled with his wife. That was nice, too, really. She'd heard they'd had a baby since...

Wait a minute, wait one damn minute. She snapped off the shower, grabbed a towel. Wrapping it around her, she put the congenial, wishyouall-the-best breakup with the very nice Wilson into the context of time, of season, of date.

Shortly after New Year's, she remembered. She'd slept with him on New Year's Eve, then again a few nights later. New Year's of last year, she realized with a jolt.

"My God! I haven't had sex in fifteen months." She stepped over to the mirror, wiped the fog away so she could stare at her own face. "I'm thirty-three years old and I haven't had sex in fifteen months. What's wrong with me?"

She pressed a hand on her belly. What if everything was rusted in there? It didn't matter if she knew better, intellectually, it was still a horrible and scary thought.

And what if she had sex with Duncan, and it was so good she started skipping the workouts (which surely were a substitute for sex)? She'd get out of shape, become flabby and lazy.

Then he probably wouldn't be attracted to her anymore. Hadn't he commented on her body? Hadn't he? So when her body went soft and flabby, he wouldn't want to have sex with her, which would send her back to Pilates with a vengeance.

It would cycle over and over, until she died with rusted plumbing and six-pack abs.

Jesus, she needed therapy.

Amused at herself, she wrapped her hair in a towel before she deliberately reached for her best, special-occasion-only body cream. Cycle or not, it was time to break the fifteen-month deadlock.

Not just with anyone, she reminded herself. She wasn't a slut-all too obviously. She avoided giving or receiving any signals from other cops, from criminalists, from prosecutors. Date or sleep with someone associated with the job, everyone on the job knew about it. That severely limited the field of play for her.

And it was true she'd been the one to make the first move toward bed with nice Wilson. But she'd liked him, enjoyed going out with him. Besides, before that New Year's Eve she hadn't been with a man for...

No, no, no. She wasn't going to count back again and make herself crazy.

She was picky, that's all-and good for her, right? She was picky about whom she dated, and a whole lot pickier about whom she slept with. She had pride, she had her values, and most important, she had a daughter to consider.

Yet here she was obsessing about sex while getting ready for a simple Sunday barbecue. Pitiful.

She took another long, searching look at herself in the mirror. Pitiful or not, she was going to use a little extra blush. And wear the damn green dress.

She took longer than usual to put herself together. Not as long as it took Carly, the Fashion Princess, to primp for a backyard picnic, but longer than her usual routine. Her first reward for the effort was the beaming smile her mother sent her when Phoebe stopped by Essie's sitting room.

Essie had switched from chat room to sketching, but stopped when Phoebe did a flourishing turn in the doorway. "Well?"

"Oh, Phoebe, you look a picture!"

"Not too much?"

"Honey, it's a simple dress, and just perfect for a Sunday barbecue. It's how it looks on you that snaps. You look all fresh and sexy at the same time."

"Exactly the combination I was shooting for. Duncan's going to be here in a few minutes, I expect. I'm going down to get those flowers. Anything you need before I leave?"

"Not a thing. You have a good time, now."

"I will. I'll be back before Carly's bedtime, but-"

"If you're not, I think Ava and I know how to tuck her up. I don't want you watching the clock."

She wouldn't, Phoebe promised herself. She'd just let it all unfold at its own time and pace. She'd enjoy herself, and enjoy