Simply Irresistible

he wouldn’t have been able to endure watching his good friend and lover, Stan, waste away from AIDS-related cancer. He would have become too emotional, unable to hide his grief. But not Mae. Mae had always been stronger than her twin.

She ducked her head and pushed open one of the heavy glass doors. She was a control nut. So what. If she weren’t, she might not have been able to come to the hospital to say her final good-bye to Stan. If it weren’t for her self-control, she just might lose it before she got home. She might break down right there and weep for the man who’d helped her through the death of her brother. The man who loved a good joke, an early tee-off, and Liberace memorabilia. Stan was so much more than a skeleton waiting for his family to take him home to die. He was so much more than the latest AIDS casualty. He was her friend and she loved him.

Mae took a deep breath of the cool morning breeze and cleared her lungs of antiseptic hospital air. She started up Fifteenth Avenue toward the house she shared with her cat, Bootsie.

“Hey there, Mae.”

She paused midstride, and glancing over her shoulder, she looked right into the grinning face of Hugh Miner. A blue baseball cap shaded his eyes, and his light brown hair curled up like little fishhooks along the edges. He grasped three big hockey sticks in one hand, hooking the blades over a broad shoulder. Seeing him in her neighborhood was a surprise. Mae lived on Capital Hill, an area just east of downtown Seattle well known for its substantial gay and lesbian population. Mae had been around gay men all of her life and could tell sexual preference within minutes of meeting a person. The first and only time she’d met Hugh, she’d known within seconds that he was one hundred percent heterosexual. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I’m dropping these sticks off at the hospital.”

“Why?”

“For an auction.”

She turned to face him. “People actually pay for your old hockey sticks?”

“You bet.” His smile grew and he rocked back on his heels. “I’m a great goalie.”

She shook her head. “You’re an egomaniac.”

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing. Some women actually like that about me.”

Mae didn’t care for his type of man, handsome and cocky. “Some women are desperate.”

He chuckled. “What are you doing today, beside spreading sunshine?”

“Walking home.”

His smile fell. “Do you live around here?”

“Yep.”

“Are you a lesbian, sweetheart?”

She thought of how Georgeanne would have howled with laughter over that question. “Does it matter?”

He shrugged. “It’d be a damn shame, but it would explain why you’re so ornery.”

Mae wasn’t usually ornery to men. She loved men. Just not the athletic type. “Just because I’m rude to you doesn’t mean I’m a lesbian.”

“Well, are you?”

She hesitated. “No.”

“That’s good.” He smiled again and shifted his weight to one foot. “Do you want to go get a cup of coffee or a beer somewhere?”

Mae laughed without humor. “Get real,” she scoffed, and moved to the curb. She glanced up and down Fifteenth and waited for the traffic to slow.

“Sorry about that, sunshine,” Hugh called after her as if she’d asked him a question. “But I don’t go in for that kinky stuff.”

Mae looked at him as she stepped between two parked cars. He was walking backward toward the hospital entrance and pointing the hockey sticks at her. “But if you’re real good and wear something slutty, maybe I’ll take you to that triple-X theater down on First. The French Orgy is playin‘, and I know how you love those foreign films.”

“You’re sick,” she muttered, and crossed Fifteenth. She easily dismissed Hugh from her mind. She had more important things to think about than a jock with a thick neck. Her circle of friends was getting smaller all the time. Just last week she’d had to say good-bye to her longtime pal and neighbor, Armando “Mandy” Ruiz. She hadn’t even known he was thinking of leaving until the day she’d watched him pack up his Chevy. He’d left Seattle for L.A. Left to answer the call of bright lights and to chase his dream of becoming the next RuPaul. Mae would miss Stan, and she’d miss Mandy, too.

But she still had her family. She still had Georgeanne and Lexie. They were enough for now. For now she was satisfied with her life.

John opened his front door and sized up Georgeanne in one quick glance. At ten in the morning, she looked fresh and perfectly flawless. She’d brushed her dark hair into a twisted bun on the back of her head, and diamond studs adorned each earlobe. She wore one of those awful female power suits that hid her deep cleavage and covered her to her knees. “Did you bring them?” he asked, and stepped aside to let her into his houseboat. When she walked past, he raised his arm a little and took a quick sniff. He didn’t smell too bad, but maybe he should have taken a shower after his run. Maybe he should have changed out of his jogging shorts and ratty gray T-shirt.

“Yes, I brought several.” Georgeanne walked into the living room, and he shut the door behind her. “Just make sure you keep your part of the bargain.”

“Let me see the goods first.” As she dug into her beige briefcase, his eyes slid down her body. The severity of her hair and the blue and white pinstripes made her appear almost sexless-almost. But her eyes were a little too green, her mouth a bit too full and a shade too red. And her body… well, hell, there wasn’t a damn thing she could wear to conceal her breasts. Just looking at her made a man think evil thoughts.

“Here.” She shoved a framed picture at him.

He took the photograph of Lexie and moved to the leather sofa. It was a school picture, with Lexie giving the camera a real cheesy smile. “What kind of grades did she get in school?” he asked.

“They don’t give grades in kindergarten.”

He sat with his knees wide. “Then how do you know if she’s learning what she needs?”

“She’s had two years of preschool. She reads and writes simple words really well, thank God. I was so afraid she might struggle.”

When she sat next to him, he looked at her. “Why?”

Georgeanne pushed up the corners of her mouth. “No reason.”

She was lying, but he didn’t want to argue with her-not yet. “I hate when you do that.”

“What?”

“Smile when you don’t mean it.”

“Too bad. There are a lot of things I don’t like about you.”

“Like what?”

“Like you stealing that awful picture from my office yesterday and holding it for ransom. I don’t appreciate blackmail.”

He hadn’t intended to blackmail her. He’d taken the photograph because he liked it. No other reason. He liked to look at her beautiful face and her pregnant belly, huge with his baby. When he looked at it, his chest swelled with pride, nearly choking him with good old-fashioned testicular machismo. “Georgie, Georgie,” he sighed. “I thought we’d cleared up these ugly accusations last night on the phone. I told you, I simply borrowed that picture,” he lied. He’d never had any intention of giving it back, but then she’d called and yelled at him about it, and he’d decided to use her emotions to his advantage.

“Now give me the photograph you stole.”

John shook his head. “Not until you replace it with something of equal or greater value. This one is kind of cheesy,” he said, and set the school picture on the coffee table. “What else ya got?”

She handed him a portrait taken in one of those glamour studios in the mall. He stared at his little girl, looking like a tart in heavy makeup, long rhinestone earrings, and a fluffy purple boa. He frowned and tossed it on the table. “I don’t think so.”

“It’s her favorite.”