The Borrowed Boyfriend (10 page)

Then he retreated to the bedroom, leaving the others goggling at Allison.

“That’s some man you’ve got there,” he heard Queenie remark as he strode away.

A few minutes later, Grady returned with three decorative wine bottle bags. He handed one to Queenie, one to Deb and one to Carla. “I’ll let you ladies do the honors. Though the wine is for both of you.”

“Oooh,” Queenie said, extracting a bottle from her bag and scanning its label. “Grady…” she said in low tones. “How did you know pinot noir is our favorite?”

“It’s from both of us,” Grady quickly corrected. “Me and Allison too.”

Brevard took the bottle and examined it, appearing pleased. “A very good year too. Thank you both.”

Carla opened hers next. “Merlot!” she said, excitedly handing the bottle to Bruce. “We love merlot, don’t we, baby?”

“Absolutely! It’s the best. Thanks, Allison and Grady. Nice touch.”

Deb lovingly hugged her bottle. “A Bordeaux! How fantastic.”

Patrick’s eyes shone with pleasure. “We can open it tonight. Serve it with the fish.”

“No, please,” Grady protested. “Allison and I intended these as couples’ gifts. They’re for your private time. You know…” he uttered confidentially. “For when you’re alone in your rooms.”

“Or—you can take them home!” Allison burst in, her cheeks blazing.

“This was so kind,” Deb said. “Only, we’ve never really done this.”

Queenie’s lips puckered in a frown. “I’m afraid we didn’t bring anything for you.”

“We didn’t either,” Carla said with dismay.

“Don’t worry!” Allison said, shooting Grady a sideways glance like she wished he’d discussed this with her earlier. “It’s all good. Grady gets his wines at a discount.”

“Sure, right. Yeah.” Grady sat uncomfortably beside her, not wanting anyone to believe he’d brought poor-quality wine. “But these are all special bottles, great years. Sometimes my suppliers send samples. I keep a stock of the very best in my cellar.”

“You have a wine cellar?” Brevard asked, evidently impressed.

“It’s pretty basic at the moment,” Grady said. “It’s in the basement of the house I’m currently restoring.”

Patrick viewed him with admiration. “On your own?”

“I’m doing most of the work,” Grady said. “For some things, like the wiring, I’ve had to hire contractors. The house is pretty old.”

“How old?” Bruce questioned.

“It was built in 1922. It’s a Craftsman-style bungalow.”

“I’ve seen those!” Queenie said enthusiastically. “They can be gorgeous when restored.”

“Utterly charming,” Deb agreed.

Carla eagerly turned to Allison. “I bet you just love it. What color is it outside?”

“White!” Allison said quickly at the same time Grady said, “Gray!”

The others exchanged startled glances.

“She means it’s gray, but we’re painting it white,” Grady explained.
 

“Sounds great,” Bruce said. “Do you have a picture?”

Allison stared at Grady and he stared back. After a second he said, “Sure, yeah. Right here on my phone.” He tugged it from his pocket and Carla leaned toward him as he switched it on. To Grady’s dismay, a photo of him and Kate immediately popped up on the screen. It had been taken in Barbados and she’d been wearing a very tiny string bikini. “Who’s that?” Carla asked at once.

Grady lowered his phone, sensing all eyes on him. “Oh, that!” he said coolly. “That’s…um…Kate!”

One of Queenie’s eyebrows shot up. “Kate?” she asked darkly.

“His sister!” Allison yelped.

“Sister?” Deb asked with a dazed expression. She stood and walked toward the phone, which Grady wanted to shove under a sofa cushion. Instead, he held up the phone like he had nothing to hide and pointed it toward Deb, then showed it around the room.

“You’ve got a very hot sister,” Bruce said and Carla whacked his knee.

“We were…” Grady thought fast. “On a family vacation. Scuba diving. Mom and Dad really loved it. It’s not often the four of us can get together.”

“Wait a minute…” Deb stroked her chin and inclined her head toward Grady’s cell. “That looks a lot like Kate Fagan.” She turned her gaze on Allison. “Say, isn’t she your roommate?”

Grady could see little dabs of perspiration forming at Allison’s hairline. “Yes, she is…ha-ha. Small world. Well, you see, the truth is—”

“That’s how we met!” Grady said suddenly. “Through Kate!”

Carla cocked her orange head at Grady. “Your sister?”

Allison nodded furiously her head bobbing up and down. “And my roommate. Exactly! Kate introduced us!”

Well,
Grady thought to himself,
at least that part’s true.
“That’s right,” he offered. “It was really very sweet of Kate. She set us up.”

“That she did!” Allison chirped shrilly. “That’s the truth!”

“If she’s your sister,” Queenie asked cagily, “then why is her last name Fagan?”

“Married!” Allison quipped. Grady shot her a cockeyed look.

“And divorced!” he added. “That’s why she lives with Allison. Still getting over the shock.”

Deb returned to her seat and a stunned silence gripped the room, except for the low, quiet crackling of logs in the fireplace.

“So,” Grady asked, looking around. “Anyone still want to see a picture of the house?”

Everyone noisily burst in with their answers, saying yes, of course, and how nice about Kate, and it wasn’t it fun he liked to travel with his sister. They must be such a close family. Fortunately, after a few perfunctory glimpses of photos of his house, everyone decided it was time for dinner.

Thirteen

A little over an hour later, the group lingered around the dinner table, chatting amicably and sipping coffee. Candles burned low and the firelight waned as soft music hummed from the stereo, underscoring the lively conversation. Allison was grateful they were discussing generic topics. Favorite places people had traveled and films people had seen.
 

Since she and Grady had supposedly just been dating two months, it was easy to explain that this was their first joint getaway. Allison noticed Grady purposely left Kate out of the previous trips he mentioned. While Allison was aware Kate had gone with him to France and Greece, Grady had obviously decided there were only so many trips he could describe taking with his
sister
without the whole thing sounding weird.

The topic of popular movies was just as lighthearted. Many in the group had seen the same films and had similar favorites. Bruce verbally replayed a funny scene from a recent action-comedy, and everybody laughed.

“Speaking of entertainment,” Carla said, turning to Brevard, “tell us about that book you’re writing.”

“Yes, do tell,” Deb petitioned. “I’m a huge reader. I’d love to know what you have in store.”

Brevard shared a look with Queenie, then leaned forward. “To tell you the truth,” he said in a rough whisper, “I’m writing a novel.”

“How exciting!” Allison exclaimed. “What’s it about?” She asked just as much for Queenie as for herself. Queenie had confided that she hadn’t been able to pry the subject of the novel out of Brevard, which made her question whether he was actually writing one.
I mean, I want to believe in my man,
she’d confessed to Allison earlier while Brevard was stoking the fire.
But you never know, do you?

Allison saw her point. If they were as serious about each other as Queenie thought, why wouldn’t he share? Carla and Deb also thought it was odd, she could tell. So tonight, without even needing to plan it, they’d circled their sisterhood wagons. They’d been friends for so long, it was easy to pick up on cues and follow each other’s lead.

“Well, I…” Brevard cleared his throat and Queenie surreptitiously shot Allison a wink behind the back of her hand. “Don’t normally discuss it.”

“Why not?” Grady asked congenially. “We’re among friends, here. I mean, I suppose I’m the new friend in the crowd.”

Carla surveyed him warmly. “Don’t worry, Grady. You’re already one of us.”

“Absolutely,” Deb and Patrick said together.

“We’re glad you could join us,” Bruce agreed.

“Boy, are we
ever,
” Queenie saucily added.

Brevard took a casual sip of coffee, appearing relieved that the subject had changed. But no one was letting him off the hook that easily. Allison dabbed her mouth with a napkin and smiled at him sweetly. “Grady’s right, you know. We’re all friends.”

“And we’re interested because we
care,
” Carla put in.

Deb folded her hands together and rested her chin on them, waiting.

Brevard appeared as if he’d been caught in a trap. “Well, if you must know…”

Queenie’s dark eyes lit up. “Yes?”

“It’s about a group of friends that gets together each year. Old school friends from college...”

Deb dropped her hands to the table, palms down. “Wait a minute.”

“Three of them met freshman year, but two of them met in Italy.”

Carla’s face flushed with alarm.

Brevard glanced around the table at their stunned expressions and his mouth twitched. “That is so seriously
not
my story,” he admitted after a beat.

The group sighed a collective breath, then began to heckle and toss napkins at him.

“And that was
so
not nice!” Queenie told him, but in spite of herself she was laughing. For a heart-stopping second, he’d fooled them all.

“All right,” Brevard relented, his shoulders sagging. “Since this seems so important to all of you, I’ll tell you. Although the four-friends-at-the-beach tale is probably much more commercial…”

The crowd leaned toward him with bated breath.

“It’s a psycho-thriller—”

“I knew it!” Queenie’s manicured finger shot up. “I mean, I suspected it was something dark.”

“It’s not so much dark as intriguing,” Brevard answered. “It’s a mystery, really. A murder mystery.”

“That sounds dark to me,” Carla answered. Heads swiveled in her direction. “But in a good way!”

The others quickly agreed.
 

“What’s it called?” asked Allison.

Brevard hesitated a moment, then enunciated carefully.
“The Dean’s Wife.”

“An academic thriller?” Grady said. “Brevard, that’s fantastic. You’ve spawned a new genre.”

“I hope so.” Brevard shrugged modestly. “In the story, the dean’s wife is accused of having an affair with an esteemed member of the faculty. Later, that faculty member winds up dead and the wife is accused. But there are other suspects too—”

“Like the dean,” Grady guessed correctly.

“She did it, didn’t she?” Carla’s face lit with imagination. “I bet she did it!”

“Innocent until proven guilty,” asserted Deb.

Queenie patted the hand Brevard had resting on the table. “Sounds fantastic, sugar. A sure
New York Times
best seller.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed on that one,” Brevard said, and everybody laughed.

Deb was the first to call it a night. “Wow, will you look at the time,” she said, checking her watch. A silent signal passed between her and Patrick. “I think we’ll clean up and head on to bed.”

“What? No fun and games tonight?” Queenie asked, referring to the charades or cards the friends sometimes played.

“I didn’t say that,” Deb returned, deadpan.

The others stared at her with admiration and Bruce tilted his chin at Patrick. “You guys have done enough already. Go knock yourselves out.” Patrick’s neck turned slightly crimson. “Carla and I can clean up.”

“Yeah—right!” Carla shot to her feet. “Great idea, Bruce.” Her panicked eyes swept the kitchen. “There
is
a dishwasher here?”
 

“A very efficient one,” Deb said.
 

“Super,” Allison offered. “Grady and I can help too.”

“Of course.” Grady stood and grabbed a few empty plates.

“No, you don’t,” Queenie said, swatting his hand. “You and Allison drove the farthest, which means you must be the most
tired.
” She shot Grady a very pointed wink, and Allison’s temperature rose. She didn’t know why she should feel embarrassed. No matter how much innuendo her friends tossed around, between her and Grady the boundaries were clear. At least, she thought they were. She’d need to bring up that hand-holding episode on the porch and help him get things in perspective straightaway.

“Laticia’s right,” Brevard said, standing. “She and I can help Carla and Bruce. You two run along and enjoy your own private fireplace.”

Allison swallowed hard. She found it endearing that Brevard was the only one among them who called Queenie by her proper name. Perhaps that was because that’s how she’d introduced herself. Queenie was only “Queenie” to this group here. After college, she’d dropped the nickname in favor of a more professional-sounding moniker.

Allison glanced across the room and saw Deb leading Patrick up the stairs hand in hand. To her delight, Patrick carried their new bottle of Bordeaux and a couple of wineglasses. Grady had really made a good move with that. “Good night, you two, and thanks again for the dinner!”