bit more upscale than that." She led him down the hallway, then opened the second door on her right and flicked on the light. "Will this do?"
Charlie made a show of checking out the sleek, ultra-modern fixtures, the elaborately papered walls, the elegantly recessed lighting that flattered everything and everybody in the room. "It's either this or the Sunoco station down the road."
"I take it you're satisfied?"
He nodded. "Do I sleep in here, too?"
She thought of the big bed in her room and for an instant she imagined she saw Donohue, bare-chested and glorious, sitting in it waiting for her with a can of Coors in his hand. Fortunately for her sanity, the image receded quickly. "Why--why don't you take my room for tonight and I'll see about fixing up something in the guest room tomorrow?" She'd take one of the overstuffed sofas in the living room or the leather recliner in the den. Anything rather than face the inevitable showdown across the sheets.
"Let me guess: you'll be someplace else."
"You're a smart man, Charles." She told him of her alternatives.
"I'll take the couch," he said. "Just point me toward the pillows."
"You're certain you don't want the bedroom?"
The look he gave her erased all doubts. She'd forgotten what it was like to deal with the more macho type of man. "I'm taking the couch."
Strange, but she'd expected him to kick up more of a fuss. "You're not angry with the arrangement?"
"I may not be one of those preppies you usually hang out with, but I have some rules. The first one is, I don't take beds away from pregnant women."
She swallowed hard. "I--I apologize for being thoughtless. I should have made some arrangements for you." She waved her hand in the general direction of the guest room. "I promise things will be in order tomorrow."
"Yeah, well, I forced the issue on living together, didn't I? I'm probably lucky I'm not sleeping on the patio."
Her first smile in hours flickered to life. "That could still be arranged."
He smiled back. "Hell, no. I'll take the couch."
They stood there in the bathroom, Charlie near the toilet, Caroline near the tub.
"I suppose I'll say goodnight." Caroline hesitated. Did they shake hands? Kiss cheeks? What on earth was the protocol for a situation like this. "There's work tomorrow and all...."
Charlie shifted position. "The Yankees are playing in California. Would you mind if I put the TV on?"
"No, not at all. Enjoy yourself."
He started to say something, some double entendre reference to a honeymoon-for-one probably, but instead he only smiled. "Good night, Caroline."
"Good night, Charles."
And so the newlywed Mr. and Mrs. Charles Donohue retired for the night--to their separate beds.
v
Charlie couldn't sleep.
He'd tried hot milk (disgusting), counting sheep (ridiculous), doing push-ups in the middle of her living room (pointless). Nothing worked. He wasn't used to hitting the hay this early. Normally he was at work until two a.m., then shot a little pool or went to an all-night gym to unwind.
Tired or not, there was no way in hell he could sleep surrounded by all these fancy little knick-knacks and things sc attered all about the room. If he turned over in his sleep, he'd wipe out half the Wedgwood in captivity. He'd never seen so many damn little things in one room in his life--or, at least, not since he was a kid.
What possessed a fairly normal, rational woman to surround herself with so many useless objects? Did she buy them just to give the cleaning lady something to do or did she actually like these idiotic things? Damn. If he had an answer to that, he'd be able to put most shrinks out of business. Everywhere he looked he saw tiny crystal bud vases, silver candlesticks, green plants in china pots, and other unidentifiable pieces of junk. Not that the stuff didn't look good, because it did. Everything about the apartment looked as if it had been picked out by a decorator from House Beautiful . It was just that the room was so
Charlie made a show of checking out the sleek, ultra-modern fixtures, the elaborately papered walls, the elegantly recessed lighting that flattered everything and everybody in the room. "It's either this or the Sunoco station down the road."
"I take it you're satisfied?"
He nodded. "Do I sleep in here, too?"
She thought of the big bed in her room and for an instant she imagined she saw Donohue, bare-chested and glorious, sitting in it waiting for her with a can of Coors in his hand. Fortunately for her sanity, the image receded quickly. "Why--why don't you take my room for tonight and I'll see about fixing up something in the guest room tomorrow?" She'd take one of the overstuffed sofas in the living room or the leather recliner in the den. Anything rather than face the inevitable showdown across the sheets.
"Let me guess: you'll be someplace else."
"You're a smart man, Charles." She told him of her alternatives.
"I'll take the couch," he said. "Just point me toward the pillows."
"You're certain you don't want the bedroom?"
The look he gave her erased all doubts. She'd forgotten what it was like to deal with the more macho type of man. "I'm taking the couch."
Strange, but she'd expected him to kick up more of a fuss. "You're not angry with the arrangement?"
"I may not be one of those preppies you usually hang out with, but I have some rules. The first one is, I don't take beds away from pregnant women."
She swallowed hard. "I--I apologize for being thoughtless. I should have made some arrangements for you." She waved her hand in the general direction of the guest room. "I promise things will be in order tomorrow."
"Yeah, well, I forced the issue on living together, didn't I? I'm probably lucky I'm not sleeping on the patio."
Her first smile in hours flickered to life. "That could still be arranged."
He smiled back. "Hell, no. I'll take the couch."
They stood there in the bathroom, Charlie near the toilet, Caroline near the tub.
"I suppose I'll say goodnight." Caroline hesitated. Did they shake hands? Kiss cheeks? What on earth was the protocol for a situation like this. "There's work tomorrow and all...."
Charlie shifted position. "The Yankees are playing in California. Would you mind if I put the TV on?"
"No, not at all. Enjoy yourself."
He started to say something, some double entendre reference to a honeymoon-for-one probably, but instead he only smiled. "Good night, Caroline."
"Good night, Charles."
And so the newlywed Mr. and Mrs. Charles Donohue retired for the night--to their separate beds.
v
Charlie couldn't sleep.
He'd tried hot milk (disgusting), counting sheep (ridiculous), doing push-ups in the middle of her living room (pointless). Nothing worked. He wasn't used to hitting the hay this early. Normally he was at work until two a.m., then shot a little pool or went to an all-night gym to unwind.
Tired or not, there was no way in hell he could sleep surrounded by all these fancy little knick-knacks and things sc attered all about the room. If he turned over in his sleep, he'd wipe out half the Wedgwood in captivity. He'd never seen so many damn little things in one room in his life--or, at least, not since he was a kid.
What possessed a fairly normal, rational woman to surround herself with so many useless objects? Did she buy them just to give the cleaning lady something to do or did she actually like these idiotic things? Damn. If he had an answer to that, he'd be able to put most shrinks out of business. Everywhere he looked he saw tiny crystal bud vases, silver candlesticks, green plants in china pots, and other unidentifiable pieces of junk. Not that the stuff didn't look good, because it did. Everything about the apartment looked as if it had been picked out by a decorator from House Beautiful . It was just that the room was so
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