The Erotic Secrets Of A French Maid

pillow.

'What happened to the glow of pregnancy?' Emma asked.

'Fuck the glow! It's a fucking lie!' Beth started to cry.

Emma and Daphne exchanged wide-eyed glances; then both went to sit on either side of Beth and comfort her.

'It's nothing like I thought it would be,' Beth said, wiping at her running nose with the back of her hand and snuffling. 'Everything on TV makes it look so lovely and beautiful and like it's going to be the best thing in the world. They don't tell you what's going to happen to your body. They don't tell you that you can hardly breathe, or sleep at night, or that you have to pee every ten minutes. They don't tell you that you can't stay awake for more than a few hours, or that your emotions get all wonky so that you start crying for no flippin' reason. They don't tell you that you'll be frickin' scared to death about everything that could go wrong, and that your husband will just say, 'You worry too much. Women drop babies in rice paddies in China all the time and just keep on working, no problem. You'll be fine.' I'm not a fucking farmer in a rice paddy! I'll bet they're just as pissed off at their husbands, anyway! Who leaves a woman to give birth in a rice paddy?'

Beth snuffled. 'I haven't even chosen a theme yet for the baby's room. What type of mother am I?'

Emma wrapped her arms around her and gave her a hug. 'Maybe a normal one.'

Beth sniffled. 'You think so?'

Daphne's cell phone rang, playing a snippet of The Rolling Stones's 'You Can't Always Get What You Want.' 'Hi, sweetie! Yeah, I'm about done here…' Her voice faded out as she went into the other room to finish her conversation.

'Are things really so bad?' Emma asked Beth.

Beth shrugged. 'I don't know. I can't tell anymore. It's like I have the worst case of PMS ever, times ten. It messes up my perspective, but I swear, Ty doesn't understand anything about what I'm going through.'

'Ty adores you.'

'I think he's afraid of me.' Beth smiled through her tears. 'For good reason, maybe. The happy woman he married has turned into a lunatic.' Her smile faded. 'And the tender, affectionate man I married has turned into someone who plays deaf if I try to talk during a 'big moment' in a ball game on TV.'

'Oh.'

'Yeah. I make him pay for that, though,' Beth said darkly.

Daphne emerged from the other room. 'I gotta run. I'm meeting Derek at his house and then we're going furniture shopping. Woo hoo! He knows I hate his black leather sofa, and I love how he's making compromises for me.'

'It's sounding pretty serious,' Emma said. 'How much have you guys been talking about the future?'

Daphne's grin wavered only the faintest bit. 'Oh, it's too soon to get into that.'

Emma and Beth exchanged a quick, silent look, but Daphne caught it. 'What?! I'm not going to rush him! I don't want to scare him off. This is a big step as it is, moving in together.'

'Just as long as you're both on the same page about what you want for the future,' Emma said.

Beth added, 'You've talked about whether he'd like to be married eventually and have kids, haven't you?'

'It's too soon!' Daphne insisted. 'Asking me to live with him is a huge step, and I don't think he would have taken it if he didn't see a future for us.'

Emma put up her hands in surrender. 'Okay, okay, you know him a lot better than either of us do. I'll be here if you need me, but I know you're confident you won't.'

'Thanks for the thought.' Daphne came over to give Emma a hug. 'I'm going to miss living with you. You'll come over to our place for dinner sometime, won't you?'

'Sure. And you can come down here and we'll go shopping and have lunch.'

'Okay.'

Daphne said her good-byes to Beth and then left.

'I hope that works out as well as she hopes,' Beth said.

'Daphne and Derek?' At Beth's nod Emma shrugged. 'I guess I hope so, too.'

'You don't like Derek?'

'I don't know. There's nothing wrong with him, really, except that he strikes me as kind of dim. No imagination. But maybe Daphne doesn't mind that.'

'Who can tell what type of partner is right for someone else? We can't even judge that for ourselves. Speaking of which! What's the full story on this apartment and the guy who owns it, huh?'

Emma felt her cheeks redden. 'Why should my getting this apartment have anything to do with romance?'

Beth raised a brow. 'No way you can afford this place on your own. Belltown is muy trendy, and trendy means bucks. So come on, spill! Or better yet, let's go have lunch and then you can spill over the food. I'm starving! But let me go to the bathroom first.'

There was no shortage of restaurants in Belltown, and the apartment was within walking distance of both tourist-choked Pike Place Market and the main shopping district in the center of the city, home to upscale malls, department stores, and boutiques. They decided on a bistro a block and a half from the apartment and settled into a booth by the window, where the spring sunlight could warm their skin.

Two baskets full of bread, a bowl of lobster bisque, and another bathroom trip later, Beth put down her spoon and sighed. 'Ohhh, that's better.'

'You're not going to have room for your entree.'

'Ha-watch me. But now, tell me what's up with the apartment.'

Emma played with the remains of her salad, driving a candied pecan through an oil slick of balsamic vinaigrette. For the past twenty minutes she'd been debating how much to tell Beth, trying to guess her reaction if she heard the whole truth.

'Like I said, the apartment belongs to a rich man whose house I was cleaning. It's been empty for a few months; he hasn't had time to find a tenant and he thinks he wants to sell the place soon, so he's letting me stay there for a very reasonable price.'

Beth gnawed a crust of bread. 'Mm-hm. And is he single?'

'Well, yeah,' Emma conceded.

'How old?'

Emma shifted in her seat. 'Thirty-six.'

'Good-looking?'

'Maybe.'

'Uh-huh.Isee.'

Emma met her eyes, trying to keep hers innocent. 'You see what?'

'Has he made a pass at you?'

'Maybe.' A smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. 'And it's not like I haven't wanted to lay my hands on his fine ass.'

'Emma!'

'What?!'

'Naughty girl.' Beth grinned. 'You want him, don't you?'

Emma shrugged.

'He must want you, too. Why else would he let you have the apartment? I bet he's going to make excuses to stop by and 'see how you're doing.' He'll bring instructions to the microwave or pretend there's a leak in the bathroom faucet.'

'He hardly needs to make excuses. I offered to make him dinner whenever he wants.'

'Emma!'

'There's nothing wrong with making him dinner.'

'Of course there's not. I'm just surprised. I've never known you to make a move on a guy.'

'They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.' Emma grinned.

Beth snorted. 'I think there's another organ that takes priority. But you're a fabulous cook, and men love food. Have you ever thought about going into catering?'