Bestiary

her nightie. Beth didn’t fight it, in fact she tried to cooperate, but her limbs felt like lead, and she wished she hadn’t had that wine with dinner.

There was a splooshing sound as he squirted the lotion into his hands, then rubbed them together to warm it up. “Roll over on your belly,” he said.

That much she could do. She rolled over in the dark, and felt Carter’s hands rest gently on her shoulders. She could smell the sandalwood scent of the body lotion. And then she felt his hands moving, first in small circles on her shoulder. Then in widening circles. It felt wonderful… too wonderful in a way. If she wasn’t careful, she could drift off into unconsciousness. And she knew that was not what Carter was aiming at.

“How’s that feel?” Carter asked, kneeling now with one long leg on either side of her.

“Good,” she mumbled into the pillow. “Very… good.”

His hands moved lower, down her back. Then out to her sides. He was being very gentle, very solicitous. Beth thought, I’ve got to stay awake. I’ve got to get with it. His hands moved lower, caressing her waist, and then below.

He moved down the bed, and adjusted his weight above her. The mattress squished down, then up again. She sensed, without even having to look up, that he’d somehow managed to get his T-shirt and shorts off.

Wake up, she told herself.

He was lying beside her, his hands still moving on her body. He was aroused, too — she could feel him nudging her hip, anxiously. Damp already.

But something in her was still failing to click. Ever since the baby, she’d been slow to arousal, and quick to sleep. Maybe it was the pressure of everything, from having a baby to moving to L.A., from the new house to the new job. He slipped one hand between her legs, parting them.

She was still dry, and knew it. He’d know, too, in another second.

“Do you not want to do this?” he said, his voice husky. He was trying to sound okay with that, but she knew he wasn’t.

“It’s just that I’m so tired.”

He moved his fingers against her, in one last-ditch attempt. And Beth willed herself to squeeze down against them, to rub herself on his fingertips. He licked them, and tried again.

He was kneeling now between her legs. Lifting her hips.

Her hair hung down in her eyes, her face pressed down against the pillows. She spread her knees.

He reached past her, grabbed the pillows, and pushed them under her. She let her belly rest on the cool, smooth cloth.

His hands gripping her, holding her in place, he pressed himself against her from behind, first probingly, then hard. But she was still dry, and she could tell it must be chafing him as much as it did her.

“Should I get some… lubricant?” he said in a strained voice.

“No,” she said, arching her back, “just go on.”

“You sure?”

She didn’t answer, just nodded her head.

And he pushed harder — slowly, then deep. He was in, but to Beth it still felt rough and tight. She wasn’t really ready, she wasn’t really receptive.

He pushed again, even deeper, and it felt — to both of them now — like every centimeter was a battle.

“Can I…?”

“Yes,” she said, “yes…”

She knew his rhythms, she knew what he was asking. And where she used to want him to wait, to wait as long as possible — and he was good at that, very good — right now all she wanted was for him to finish.

And she knew he knew that.

His hands clenched her hips, and he pulled her back against him. She moved her knees as wide as she could. He moved into her, then out, then in again, several times. Faster. Suddenly, he groaned, and grew very still, arched, immobile, against her hot skin. She, too, stayed still, waiting for him to subside. A few moments later, he bent forward, resting his head between her shoulder blades. She could feel his breath, ragged, on the nape of her neck. She let her knees, starting to ache now, come together.

Carter rolled off of her and onto his back, one hand resting flat on his chest.

Beth moved the pillows out of the way, and lay on her side, facing him.

His eyes were closed.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just—”

“It’s okay,” he said, his eyes still shut.

“No, it’s not, I—”

“Beth,” he said, “it’s alright. I shouldn’t have pushed it.”

She moved closer to him, and he draped one arm around her head and shoulder. She did love the smell of him. Now if only she could get that… feeling back.

She wanted to tell him that, she wanted to explain, and make it up to him somehow, but before she was really aware of it, before she was able to utter another word, she was fast asleep.

And Carter could tell — her breathing went suddenly low and steady. Her lips were slightly parted against the pillowcase.

He lay on his back, in the dark, thinking. While, most of the time, sex left him nicely drowsy, it wasn’t having that effect tonight.

He knew that new mothers often had some trouble getting back into the groove; he’d read the articles, he knew about the bonding process she was going through with Joey. He would have liked to have the old Beth back — their sex life had always been vigorous, to say the least — but he understood that he was going to have to give it some more time. No, that wasn’t really the reason his mind was still churning.

What was keeping him awake was everything else — Pit 91, the La Brea Woman, Gunderson’s publicity plans. He wanted to turn it all off, but the longer he lay there, the more his mind continued to go over it all. He envied Beth the deep, untroubled sleep she seemed to be enjoying. There was no way, he knew, that he was going to get there himself, not this early. Without waking her, he moved her head away from his shoulder, brushed the long dark hair away from her lips, and got out of bed. He put on some jeans, the T. rex T-shirt, and his rubber thongs, and went across the hall to check on Joey.

The moonlight was coming through the blinds, but even without that, he would have known Joey was awake. Not that he was making any noise; he seldom did that. But as Carter leaned over the edge of the crib, he could see that Joey’s eyes — a kind of gray blue — were open, as if he’d been simply waiting for his dad to come in. It was nearly always like this, and Carter often wondered if that was the way babies were — were they such finely tuned instruments that they woke up the minute anyone got near them? Never having had one before, he had no means of comparison.

“Don’t you ever sleep?” Carter whispered.

Joey wiggled his legs, wanting to be picked up.

Carter leaned in and lifted him. “How was your day?” he asked, as if expecting an answer. “You and Robin have some fun?”

The baby calmly studied Carter’s face.

“You think your daddy’s good looking? Someday I’ll show you my whole T-shirt collection.” He bounced his son on his arm; Joey was wearing white cotton pj’s with little red roosters all over them.

Carter carried the baby downstairs to the kitchen, where he deposited him in the high chair, while he finished off some of the Chinese food leftovers. But he still wasn’t feeling sleepy. What might help, he thought, was a short walk and a cigar.

Beth forbade smoking in the house, and wasn’t crazy about the fact that Carter did it at all. But Carter had been hoarding a fine Macanudo that Gunderson, of all people, had stuck in his pocket when Carter had first told him about the find in Pit 91.

“Want to take a walk?” Carter asked Joey, who was forming a small bubble between his lips. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

While he’d have thought twice about a late-night stroll with a baby and a cigar anywhere else, in Summit View it posed no problem; who was gonna see him? There was never anyone on the streets even during the day. And at this hour, on a hot night, he could count on seeing no one.