Body Language

New boss! The thought made her gag.

How could she stay on a diet with this latest development? She needed chocolate. And lots of it.

“Of course I have a problem with it. But I can’t quit because you’ve been hired to replace Moody. I have obligations, and I happen to like working here.”

He seemed pleased by her answer. “Good. Then we’ll have to make a concerted effort to get along and let the past stay in the past. Are you willing to do that, Miss Peters?”

Ellie had despised Michael for so long that she wasn’t sure she could just turn off her hate switch and become civil, but it was obvious that was exactly what she was expected to do, in order to keep her job. “I’ll make a concerted effort to be civil, Mr. Devil…ah…Deavers.”

Of course, there were degrees of civility.

He heaved a sigh. “I’m afraid I’ll need you to do more than that. I expect you not to badmouth me behind my back. If you have a problem with the way I’m handling things, then do me the courtesy of bringing it to my attention. I won’t tolerate gossip in the workplace. It undermines productivity and morale.”

She almost smiled. “Well, good luck with that because gossip’s a way of life around here. We all need some type of release. You of all people, should know that, Michael…uh…Mr. Deavers. You’ve done the job.”

Michael’s brow shot up. “There are other forms of release, as I’m sure you know.”

Ellie’s smile was borderline nasty. “I know quite well, actually. I can assure you that I haven’t lived a celibate life since you broke our engagement. Many men find me attractive.”

Okay, many might have been a slight exaggeration, but surely some…well, maybe a few.

“Of that, I have no doubt. I still find you extremely attractive, Ellie.”

His words made her heart beat a tiny bit faster, but she did her best to ignore it. “Uh, uh, uh, Mr. Deavers. Those kinds of statements might be construed as sexual harassment. If I were you, I’d be careful. You never know who’s listening, or who is unable to translate or interpret your intentions accurately.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good. See that you do. Now if we’re done, I need to get back to work. I’m behind already, as it is.”

“Just one more thing.”

She nearly groaned.

“Our breakup had nothing to do with you.”

“Oh, really?” Her brow arched and she folded her arms across her chest in a defensive posture. “Well isn’t that interesting? And here I thought I was involved.”

Michael ran agitated fingers through his dark hair. “I’m not saying this very well, and I’ve been wanting to explain for seven years.”

Ellie heaved a sigh, needing to put the past behind her. “Michael, there’s no point in—”

“Please, just hear me out. I broke our engagement because I was scared, if you want to know the truth. I shouldn’t have rushed into making a commitment. I had serious ambitions. I thought a wife and family would hold me back. I realize now I was a fool.”

“You were probably correct in both assumptions.” Particularly the fool part, she wanted to add, but didn’t. “Anyway, it all worked out for the best, didn’t it? You have the job you’ve always wanted. I remember you talking about working for the United Nations from the moment we met. You usually got what you went after, Michael. The problem is, you didn’t always choose to keep it.”

“I HATE HIM! I hate him! I hate him! I hate him!”

That was the mantra Ellie recited as she hurried home, passing street vendors, storefront windows displaying enticing arrays of merchandise, dodging cars and impatient drivers who didn’t understand about pedestrian right of way, and not paying much attention to any of them.

“I still find you extremely attractive.”

“What bullshit! How dare he say such a thing to me?”

Trying to work, to concentrate, after her meeting with Michael…oh, excuse me…Mr. Deavers had been nothing short of a nightmare, and a testament to her professionalism.

But could she continue working, as if nothing was out of the ordinary?

YES! She had to.

Ellie had no intention of giving the bastard an excuse to fire her or find fault with her work. She was determined to stick it out and excel.

Michael could just go and—

Becky actually liked him, as hard as that was to believe. The woman thought he was charming, handsome and quite intelligent. And of course he was. She also thought he was a vast improvement over Mr. Moody. And of course he was.

It had been hard to dispute that point, but she had tried her damnedest, citing Moody’s experience and wisdom, though she nearly choked on her words as she’d said them.

Ellie couldn’t wait to get home to her new apartment, take a long, leisurely bath, exercise Barnaby, and spend a quiet, relaxing evening by herself. She might even build a fire in the fireplace.

The nights were getting colder now, and she’d been dying to sit in front of a warm, cozy fire with a glass of Chianti and just let the world slip by for a while.

She needed time to get her thoughts together about how she was going to handle the fact that Michael was now her boss.

No. She would not think about him. They were through, finished, done as overcooked steak.

Ellie looked heavenward. “Why me, God? What did I ever do to you? On second thought, don’t answer that!”

Hearing male laughter, she turned to find Mr. Roselli restacking the apples in front of his market and smiled sheepishly. “You talking to yourself again, Ellie?” the portly grocer asked, a twinkle in his eye.

“Yes, but I’m not answering myself this time, Mr. Roselli.”

The older man chuckled. “That’s good. I won’t have to call the men in the white coats to come and get you then.”

“How’s Mrs. Roselli? Is her foot still bothering her?”

“She’s got the gout again. It always bothers her.”

“Tell her I said hi.” She waved goodbye and kept on walking the few remaining blocks to her building.

Ellie loved her new neighborhood, comprised of mostly brownstones. The people were friendly, and she was starting to feel like she belonged.

She hadn’t felt that way while living with Brian, hadn’t fit in with the Fifth Avenue crowd, or with Brian’s snooty friends and co-workers.

No way did her income even come close to matching their pretentiousness.

Ellie took the stairs to her second-floor apartment, two at a time, eager to see Barnaby and find the refuge she was seeking. It had been a long, difficult day—one of many to come, she was sure.

As she reached her front door, it opened of its own accord, and she nearly screamed, until she saw who was standing behind it.

Then she nearly fainted.

“Hello, dear.”

“Mom!” She blinked several times, hoping it was just an aberration, an evil specter floating through her overactive imagination.

No such luck.

“What are you doing here? You were supposed to call me.” Two horrible shocks in one day didn’t seem at all fair.

“I know, I know. But things got progressively worse between your father and me after I confronted him about his dalliance, and I just couldn’t stay in that house a moment longer. I hope you don’t mind that I came.”

Of course she minded. What normal adult daughter wouldn’t? But could she say that? NO!

“I thought you were going to talk to Dad, ask him about the e-mails he’s been exchanging with that woman.”

Rosemary walked into the living room, and Ellie was right behind her, giving Barnaby a cursory pat on his head.

Her dog walker, Jen, had come earlier and taken Barn out for his afternoon walk, so Ellie would be spared that chore for the moment, though the bulldog did not look pleased and was giving her his “you traitor” look.

“I spoke to your father about this woman—Michelle. He claims they’re just good friends. I asked why, if that was so, did he write all that disgusting filth and why did he give her diamonds?

“He said the bracelet was a birthday gift, and that the other was just a private joke between them. I knew right away Ted was lying. Your father lied, Ellie. He stood there and lied right to my face.”

“How do you know, Mom? Maybe Dad is telling the truth. He doesn’t usually lie.” And maybe pigs fly, Ellie thought, feeling more depressed by the minute.

Men were such assholes. The thing was—she had never lumped her father into that category. He was supposed to be above all that…that…stupidity.

“Ted has a nervous twitch beneath his right eye when he’s not being truthful. I used to think it was cute when he was trying to surprise me, on those rare occasions when he made the effort. But that damn twitch was moving a mile a minute, like water drops dancing on a hot griddle.

“But aside from that, I just know. I’ve been married to the man for thirty-five years. A wife knows these things. I was just too trusting to realize that something was terribly wrong. I feel so stupid for not knowing what was going on right under my nose.”

“You’re not stupid. How could you know? Dad went out of his way to deceive you.”

Rosemary looked sad, angry and defeated, and Ellie was worried. Her parents had always been close—the perfect couple. Her mother had reveled in that, taken it to heart and believed in it. Having your illusions shattered was difficult to overcome. Ellie knew that firsthand and was the perfect example of someone who’d never really accepted her fate.

She and Michael had been apart for seven years, and still the pain of his betrayal—or change of heart, as he so blithely put it—continued as a gaping wound to her heart that refused to heal.

And if she were truthful with herself, the sight of him had brought all those disturbing memories of their time together to the surface.

“Do you have any wine, dear? I could use a glass right about now.”

Ellie’s musings came to a halt, her eyes widening. Her mother barely touched the communion wine at church service, let alone cocktails. “But you don’t drink. Are you sure?”

“Quite sure. It’s time I entered the twenty-first century. Don’t you think? If your father can carry on an affair, I can learn to drink.”

A thousand uh-ohs reverberated in Ellie’s head. Her mother’s new tit-for-tat philosophy was not a good thing.

But Ellie knew all about a woman’s need for revenge.

She fetched the wine, handing her mother a glass and pouring herself one—which she needed more than Rosemary did—then asked the question uppermost on her mind. “Have you thought about how long you’ll be staying? Not that I’m anxious for you to leave or anything,” she added quickly, noting the hurt look flashing across the older woman’s face.

“It’ll be hard for you and Dad to work things out if you’re not at home, is all I meant.”

Sipping her wine, Rosemary tried valiantly not to make a face at the dryness of the Chianti. “I’ll be here indefinitely, Ellie. I have no intention of going back to that worm I used to call husband. Not now, not ever.”

The word indefinitely hit the side of Ellie’s head with the force of a jackhammer.

“Mom, you can’t be serious!”

“I’m very serious. I’ve made up my mind to divorce your father. If Ted wants other women, then he can have them. I no longer care.”

Crisis! Crisis!

Ellie felt a surge of nausea and feared she might puke all over Barnaby. “Don’t talk nonsense! Of course you and dad will make up. This is just a bump in the road. Why, you don’t even know for sure that he actually had sexual relations with that woman,” she said, sounding a bit too much like Bill Clinton during his Monica Lewinsky days. “It might all be part of a fantasy—a sick fantasy, I’ll give you that—but still a fantasy.”

“Your father was unfaithful. Period. Why can’t you understand that? Have things changed so much since I was a young woman? He took a vow to love, honor and cherish me, through sickness and in health, for as long as we both shall live. Well, I’m not dead yet!

“Whether in his mind or in deed, Ted betrayed me. The damage has been done. And when he refused to stop all contact with that bitch…”

Ellie gasped. “Mom! You don’t swear.”

“Shit! Shit! Shit! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! There, now I swear. I swear, I drink, I cry.” Suddenly Rosemary burst into tears, and Ellie rushed over to the sofa to comfort her, wrapping her arm around her shoulders. Even Barnaby whined in support.

“I’m so sorry, Mom. I wish there was something I could do. I feel so helpless.”

Her mother sniffed several times, then smiled wanly, patting her cheek. “There is something you can do, Ellie. Do you have any Lysol? I feel the need to clean.”

And so it began….

“Never accept dates out of desperation or loneliness.

Desperation fuels dyspepsia, not desire.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“ARE YOU SURE, Ms. Peters, that you’ve transcribed that last word correctly? The syntax of the sentence doesn’t make sense to me.”

Sucking in her anger, Ellie turned to find Michael hovering behind her chair, looking over her right shoulder and reading her transcription. In fact, he’d been hovering a lot the past few days, and it was starting to grate on her nerves.

Every time she inhaled she could smell the musky scent of his cologne—the same scent she’d bought him seven years ago, as a matter of fact!

Some men had a lot of gall!

“Quite sure, Mr. Deavers. I’m very good at what I do. But if you’d like to listen for yourself—” You pompous, arrogant… She removed her headphones and handed them to him, but he shook his head.

“That won’t be necessary, as long as you’re certain. By the way, I like that sweater you’re wearing. That purple color looks good on you.”

“I don’t care what you like. Just leave me alone and let me do my work.”

“Now why would I want to do that? It’s my job to make sure everyone in this department is doing their work to the best of their abilities.” He pulled out a chair and sat down next to her, making Ellie gasp.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

He smiled. “Observing. And I must say, I like what I see. You’ve only grown more beautiful, Ellie. Time has softened your features, made you look even more—”

“I don’t know what game you’re trying to play, Michael, but I’m not interested,” she bit out, barely above a whisper. “And if you don’t want our previous relationship to be found out and bandied about this entire building, I suggest you leave before Becky gets back.”

“You’re still very angry with me, aren’t you?”

Ellie felt like rolling her eyes. “Are you dense? Of course I’m angry.” She shook her head. “What did you expect, just to waltz back into my life as if the last seven years hadn’t happened? It doesn’t work that way, Michael. You, of all people, should know that.”

“It should. We used to be good friends once, before we became lovers.”

I will not allow myself to be drawn back to those memories—those sweet, destructive, painfully bitter memories.

“Please go away, Mr. Deavers. I need to finish my work and you’re disturbing me.”

“That’s good, I think,” he said with a sexy grin, before rising to his feet and walking away, hands clenched behind his back like some pompous dictator surveying his possessions.

Well, if he thought she was still one of his possessions, he had another think coming!

“What did the director want? Did you do something wrong?” Becky wanted to know upon her return from the rest room. No doubt her ears had homed in like radar on her entire conversation with Michael.

Yes! I slept with the bastard!

“Mr. Deavers questioned me about one of my transcripts. Guess he’s bored and needs to harass the employees. Have you had any trouble with him?”

Becky shook her head. “None. I’d probably pee my pants if he told me I was doing something wrong.”

Ellie sighed. “Have you ever considered that not everyone else is right, Becky? That perhaps you’re not the one who is always wrong?”

“No, because I’m usually wrong.”

Ellie’s phone buzzed just then, and she was grateful for the interruption, excusing herself to answer it. Sometimes Becky’s self-esteem issues were just too much for her to deal with. “Ellie Peters.”

“It’s Mrs. Greenlaw, dear. Mr. Deavers asked me to call and—” There was an uncomfortable pause, then, “He wanted me to tell you that gum chewing during translation isn’t acceptable work behavior, that it can distract the listener from hearing the nuances of the speaker’s conversation.”

“What?” Ellie nearly dropped the phone. “Mr. Deavers said that? He wants me to stop chewing gum while I work?”

The bastard!

“I’m afraid so, dear. I’m terribly sorry.”

“I realize, Mrs. Greenlaw, that you are only doing as instructed, but you can tell Mr. Deavers that he can go—”

“Was there something you wished to tell me, Ms. Peters?”

Eyes narrowing to slits, Ellie turned to face Michael. She was so pissed off she thought smoke must be pouring out of her nostrils. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell the arrogant bastard just what she thought of his edicts and where he could shove them. But then, remembering that she needed her job, she said instead,

“I don’t have a thing to say to you, Mr. Deavers. Not one damn thing.”

WITHIN TWO DAYS of her arrival, Rosemary had gone through Ellie’s new apartment like a white-gloved tornado and had cleaned every inch of it, scrubbing down the floors with Lysol, putting shelf paper in the kitchen cupboards—the ugliest shelf paper Ellie had ever seen, by the way—waxing and polishing the hardwoods, and had annihilated the germs in the bathroom until you could have sipped gazpacho from the toilet bowl.

Even Barnaby had not escaped her clutches.

“Mom,” Ellie asked, “why is Barnaby’s tongue blue? The poor thing looks sick.” She knelt before the dog, and he whined pathetically, trying to lick her hand with his big fat blue tongue.

“He must have drunk water out of the toilet bowl. Disgusting habit! That should teach him a lesson.”

The bulldog obviously understood every word Rosemary had said, because he very uncharacteristically bared his teeth, which were also tinged blue.

Ellie now had food in her refrigerator, none of which looked particularly healthy or low-fat, soft drinks and bottled water, and a year’s supply of toilet paper, Kleenex, and paper towels in her cupboard, not to mention a hideous array of cleaning supplies. Believing an invasion of flesh-eating bacteria was imminent, Rosemary had purchased twenty cans of Lysol.

And as nice as it was to have dinner on the table when she walked in the door after work—relaxing with a glass of wine for five minutes might have been nice, too—and her furniture rearranged to suit her mother’s liking—NOT!—she wanted her sloppy, dirty, bacteria-ridden apartment back, and she wanted it back NOW!

Hell! It had only been two days. What would happen after an entire week of living with her mother?

Ellie didn’t want to go there; it was too depressing.

“Mom, thanks for washing my blouse, but I think you’ve ruined it.” She held up her favorite blue silk blouse, which had shrunk to half its size and was wrinkled beyond belief, and nearly wept. “You can’t put silk in the washing machine. It has to be dry cleaned.”

“Don’t worry, dear. I’ll buy you a new one. We’ll go shopping this weekend and we’ll have a wonderful time spending your father’s money. I’ve already ordered several things over the Internet, the most expensive items I could find.” Smiling sweetly, she resumed washing the dishes that Ellie had left in the sink that morning.

“I don’t want you to buy me things, Mom, and I don’t want you doing my laundry. I use the dry cleaners down the street. The Wongsteins are very nice people, and they do a good job.”

Rosemary shrugged, not saying a word, and it was obvious that Ellie had hurt her feelings. Again.

“So I won’t touch your stuff. I was only trying to help.”

Heaving a sigh, Ellie sat down at the kitchen table to read the newspaper. “Have you heard from Dad?” she asked nonchalantly, holding her breath and praying for a positive answer.

“No, I haven’t. And you must stop asking me that every time we talk, Ellie. Your father is infatuated with someone else. No doubt she’s already moved into my house and they’re planning to get married.”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “It’s only been two days. Don’t you think you’re exaggerating just a bit?”

“Your father is a fast worker. I remember when we were dating. The man was impetuous. I was drawn to him, like a moth to a flame.”

The woman was starting to sound like a bad romance novel.

“Dad was impetuous? I find that hard to believe.” Ted Peters thought out every move he made to the nth degree, like a rabid chess player. Her parents’ burial plots had been purchased over twenty-five years ago, so they could be prepared in case the worst happened.

Her father never did anything that could be considered spontaneous. At least, Ellie had never seen that side of him, and she had a really difficult time believing it existed.

Of course, she also had a difficult time believing he wore the big letter A, so what did she know?

A wistful smile crossed Rosemary’s lips. “Ted used to be quite the romantic before we were married. We did a lot of crazy things, like walking barefoot in the rain. I rode on the back of his motorcycle once, and he used to sing me silly songs he made up.”

“Dad had a motorcycle?” Ellie was in a total state of shock. This man her mother spoke of was totally alien to her.

“Yes, he was quite the catch back then. And boy, was he ever persuasive. I shouldn’t admit this, especially to my daughter, but I almost had sex with him before marriage. Of course, my sanity eventually returned and I waited.

“Women of today don’t put much store in that, I guess. But I was a virgin when I married your father. Of course, back then I thought our love would last forever. If I knew then what I know now, I would have been tempted to play around. I had opportunities. I wasn’t always an old lady.”

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