The Perfect Couple (Last Stand #4)(24)
Author: Brenda Novak

Tiffany was sitting at the kitchen table in a bathrobe and slippers when Colin strode in. Every line of her body drooped, but he didn’t care.

He’d finally gotten his attractive neighbor to notice him, had spent hours alone with her and was in a great mood.

"Where were you?" she asked.

He could hear the distress in her voice. She was so afraid of losing him–and no amount of reassurance made any difference. The belief that she wasn’t worthy of his love, of anybody’s love, came from someplace so deep she’d never overcome it. She had Nancy, her lousy mother, to thank for that.

And the brother who’d shot Nancy. By getting himself locked up, Seth had reinforced Tiffany’s fear of abandonment.

Colin supposed the way he treated her didn’t help. But she was lucky to be with him. He could’ve had someone much more confident–although the effort involved in keeping a woman who was his equal wasn’t worth it to him.

"I’ve been out." He dropped the box of flyers on the counter with a solid thud. "Where’s breakfast?"

"I didn’t make any. I didn’t know when you’d be back."

He propped his hands on his hips and scowled at her sleep-tousled appearance. "Are you trying to convince me you’re ugly?"

She wouldn’t meet his eyes. "No."

"Then why haven’t you showered?"

It was rare that he saw her out of bed with her hair mussed and her face devoid of makeup. He’d let her know from the very beginning that he expected her to be her most attractive at all times. That meant she had to shower twice a day–once in the morning and once after visiting the gym before he arrived home each evening. Maybe other men could tolerate their women walking around looking like hags, but he wanted Tiffany to be the bombshell he’d created.

"It’s only 6:00 a.m.," she said, growing sullen.

"So? You’re wasting time. Go!"

She got up, only to hesitate at the entrance to the dining room. "Why won’t you tell me where you’ve been?"

He got a box of cold cereal from the cupboard and poured himself a bowl. "Why do you think? Because I was with another woman." She gasped, but he couldn’t resist torturing her a little longer by conjuring up a lascivious smile as he opened the fridge. "And it was awesome."

Her chin quivered. "Is–is it the receptionist at your office?" she whispered, scarcely able to say the words.

"Misty?" Tiffany was so gullible. He chuckled to himself. "That fat bitch? Give me some credit, please."

"Then who?" She began to pant–obviously hyperventilating. If he let the joke go on, she’d probably pass out and hit her head.

"Stop it, Tiff," he said. "I’m joking, okay? You know you’re the only one for me. I was with Zoe! The woman next door?"

She hiccuped as she fought to rein in her emotions.

"We were making flyers." He thumped the box he’d brought in.

"Didn’t you see this? Didn’t you wonder what it was?"

"I don’t understand." Her eyes, still glazed with hurt, searched his face.

He set his cereal and a gallon of milk on the table, then put his arms around her. "Calm down, okay? I’m here. I’m never gonna leave you. We were at Kinko’s making flyers with Sam’s picture on them. Isn’t that hilarious?"

Tiffany managed a weak laugh. "Oh!"

"Good thing I love you. Because your insecurities drive me nuts.

Jeez!" He patted her bottom. "Go get showered before I change my mind about hanging on to you."

"Okay," she said, but didn’t move.

"What is it now?" he snapped.

"How did you hook up with Zoe? You were in bed with me when I fell asleep."

"I got up to check on Samantha and went out for a smoke. Zoe was in her front yard."

"So you offered to help her?"

He allowed himself a self-indulgent smile. "Brilliant, huh?"

She touched the box of flyers. "Why’d you bring them home?"

"I only brought some home, stupid. I told her we’d distribute them."

She blinked uncertainly. "And…will we?"

He poured the milk. "You bet. Why not? What could be more convincing than two sympathetic neighbors doing all they can to help?"

Tiffany smiled, but he knew it wasn’t because she liked the idea. She wasn’t the type to enjoy deception, even deception as masterful as this. She was relieved to learn she’d been worried for nothing. That was all. "You’re so clever."

"Damn straight."

"Colin?"

He’d already taken his first bite. "Hmm?"

"It’s been a while since…" She unfastened her robe and let it fall open.

"Aren’t you starting to miss me?"

Finding her seductive expression lacking after the time he’d spent with Zoe, he scowled. "I’m eating. Can’t you see that?"

She ducked her head as if he’d slapped her. "But…you’ve never gone a whole day, let alone two."

She was feeling neglected. "I’m saving up," he said.

"For what?"

"I’ve got the boys coming over Friday night."

"You’re going to–to prostitute me to your friends?" she asked, belting her robe.

"It’s just sex, Tiff. It doesn’t mean anything. I want to show you off.

Because I’m so proud of you."

"But I don’t have any desire to–to be with them."

"I’m not talking about an affair. I’m talking about a gang-bang party.

You’ll be so high you won’t even care."

She didn’t respond.

"Come on, don’t be a downer. I’ve already promised the guys a treat."

A pitiful expression claimed her face. "Do I have to do it, Colin?"

With a curse, he knocked the cereal box off the counter, flinging Wheaties all over the floor. "Why are you doing this? Why do you have to ruin it for me?"

She’d covered her head at the outburst. "I only want to make love with you," she said as she peeked out from between her arms.

"If you won’t show my friends a good time, you’ll never be with me again," he said. "Now clean up this mess. I gotta shower or I’ll be late for work."

"I brought you something."

Samantha huddled in the corner, watching as Tiffany came into the room, locked the door behind her and slowly advanced. She was holding a tattered blue blanket, the kind someone would throw away or allow a dog to maul and chew. But even an old rag appealed to Sam. She had no idea what the weather was like outside. There was no way to tell without windows. But she was freezing. Tiffany had left her in the urine-stained bikini bottoms, probably as punishment for wetting herself. She’d asked for clothes, but they hadn’t provided anything else for her to wear.