Jennifer Crusie Bundle

  “Bad idea,” Zack said quickly. “Murder is always a bad idea, but killing a cop? No.” He shook his head. “Don’t do it. The hassle is enormous.”

  “It’s not murder,” Bradley said after a moment. “It’s self-defense. I heard an intruder in the basement and shot him. It’s self-defense.”

  “Well, actually, Brad, it’s not,” Zack said, trying to sound calm and friendly. “Self-defense only works if the intruder is actually approaching you in a threatening manner. Just offing somebody in your basement doesn’t count.” Bradley appeared to hesitate, and Zack took heart and moved on. “Now, obviously you were duped by John Bradley, so there’s no need…”

  “No.” Bradley looked into Zack’s eyes. “You’re not stupid. You know about the windows.”

  “The ones John Bradley shot out,” Zack said helpfully.

  “You know it was me.”

  Terrific. Shut up, Bradley.

  “You knew it was me all along. That part of this was always between us.” Bradley smiled as he said it. “You knew. I kept calling to see if you were here, and you always were. So I told J.B. to call you for me, and I stood in the front yard, and when you picked up the phone, I shot at you.”

  “You almost shot Lucy that night,” Zack said, and Bradley’s smile disappeared.

  “I would never hurt Lucy. When I shot at you on the street that day and almost hit her, I was terrified. I was trying to hit you, not her. I won’t miss this time.”

  This was bad. Bradley raised the gun another inch and Zack stared down its barrel. A .45. Again, a .45. They’d be scraping him off the house next door. He had to get out of Property Crimes. It was too damn dangerous. Then he looked past the gun into Bradley’s angry eyes and made a discovery that scared the hell out of him.

  Bradley wasn’t nuts. He was just mad as hell. At him. Because he’d slept with Lucy. And Zack knew exactly how that anger felt because it was one of the reasons Zack didn’t like Bradley much, either.

  If I thought he’d slept with her while she was seeing me, Zack thought, I’d be furious, too. Imagine if I’d been married to her. Imagine if she obviously wanted him more than me.

  I’d want to kill him.

  Which meant that unless he came up with something fast, he was going to die.

  “You know, Bradley,” Zack said suddenly, “if you shoot me, you’ll never get Lucy back. If we sit down and work this out, you could get off with probation, a suspended sentence. Once Lucy finds out the blonde was lying, she’ll understand why you did it. Unless you shoot me. I’m a cop, Bradley. They’ll throw away the key. And you’ll never get to explain to Lucy.”

  “I already explained it.” Bradley dropped the gun slightly. “She doesn’t care. She wants you. As long as you’re alive…”

  He began to sight down the barrel again, and Zack gave up.

  “Put the gun down, Bradley.”

  Lucy’s voice cut through the silence, and they both froze. Zack stared past Bradley to the stairs where she’d appeared, a few steps above him, her brand-new autographed baseball bat balanced above her shoulder.

  “Lucy?” Bradley turned slightly, just enough to see her from the corner of his eye. Not enough to give Zack room to move.

  “Put it down, Bradley,” she said. “This won’t help things. If you shoot him, you’ll only be in more trouble. Put it down.”

  “Lucy, you don’t understand. Go back upstairs.” Bradley turned back to Zack.

  “Go, honey,” Zack said, and Bradley’s face went red with anger.

  “No, Bradley,” Lucy said. “Listen to me. I have a baseball bat here, and I will hit you with it if you don’t drop your gun.” She said it very calmly, as if it were the most sensible thing in the world instead of the most ridiculous, but Zack could see the bat tremble in her hands, and he felt a chill of fear for her like nothing he had ever felt for himself.

  Bradley turned back to her, and Zack had a nightmare vision of him suddenly swinging the gun around to her.

  “Go away, Lucy,” Zack said, and Bradley turned back to him, furious.

  “Drop it, Bradley,” Lucy said, and Bradley twitched his eyes back to her and then back to Zack.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Lucy.” Bradley’s voice began to shake with impatience. “You won’t hit me with a baseball bat. The whole idea is ludicrous. You are not a violent person.”

  “Oh, I can be.” Lucy swallowed hard. “I cracked your friend’s skull with a bat this morning. It made the most awful sound, Bradley. Like a bad melon. I don’t want to hit you, Bradley, and I know you don’t want to shoot Zack. Just put the gun down. Please.”

  “Oh, I want to shoot Zack.” Bradley took careful aim at Zack. “I really do. And you won’t hit me, not even to save him. You can’t. You’re not capable of violence. I know you. You’re my wife, and I know you better than you know yourself.” He began to squint his eyes, ready to pull the trigger.

  Zack gave up hope and looked at Lucy because he wanted her to be the last thing he saw before he died.

  “Well, the thing is, Bradley, I’ve changed,” Lucy said.

  And then she swung the bat solidly into the back of his head.

  His head jerked forward, and he flung his arms wide as he fell through the broken rail to the floor, jerking on the trigger of the .45 in reflex action, narrowly missing Zack, who had gone in low the moment that Lucy had moved. Bradley fell hard and then staggered to his feet, and Zack was there, putting him down with one punch that had a lot of pent-up frustration behind it.

  Lucy sat down hard on the stairs, clutching her bat and staring at them both in amazement.

  Zack picked up the gun and held it on a dazed Bradley. “I enjoyed that,” he said as he nursed his left hand. “Call 911.”

  “I already did,” Lucy said. “Before I came down here. I opened the front door so they’d come in when they got here.” Even as she spoke, she heard cautious footsteps above. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” Zack said. “I think I broke my hand, but it was worth it. I’ve been wanting to punch him out for two weeks. By the way, thanks for saving my life.”

  “If I saved it, does that mean I get to keep it?” Lucy asked, but there were people coming down the steps, and he didn’t hear her. She sat on the stairs and watched it all, sad for Bradley and relieved at the same time.

  WHEN EVERYONE HAD GONE, Zack went to find her to tell her that Tina was coming to stay with her while he went downtown, to tell her that she really was safe now, to tell her…

  He found her still on the steps, and sat beside her, trying to figure out how to tell her the most important part.

  “He really thought he loved me,” Lucy said. “Before this John Bradley mess, I mean. I still feel terrible about that. He thought he loved me, but I only loved the house and then you. It’s almost my fault that this happened.”

  Zack scowled at her. “No, it isn’t. That’s dumb. Obviously…” Then he stopped, his scowl vanishing. “Back up a minute. You said you loved me.”

  “I know. Do you think I could talk Tina into getting Bradley a lawyer?”

  “Not in a million years. Forget them for a minute.” He took a deep breath. “I think we should get married. I know you think it’s too soon, but you’re wrong.”

  Lucy started to say something but he stopped her. “Now just listen for a minute. There are a lot of good reasons why we should get married. For example, the dogs need a father.”

  “Zack—” Lucy began.

  “Hell, they’re boys. They need a male around.”

  “Zack—” Lucy began again.

  “Okay, okay. Here’s a good one.” Zack put his arm around her because it felt so good to have her close. For a moment, looking down into her big brown eyes disoriented him, and then he remembered what he was doing. “Where was I? Oh, right. We’re bound to make a go of it because people always work harder on their second marriages, so you’ll give it everything you’ve got. And not only that, but you’ll be comparing me to Bradley, a
nd Lord knows I’m a step up, so you’ll think I’m terrific, which will make me happy. There’s no way we can fail.”

  Lucy tried again. “I think—”

  “Okay, how about this. We’re great in bed together. There’s a sure-fire guarantee for marriage—great sex.”

  Lucy frowned at him. “That’s a terrible reason to get married. I think—”

  Zack gave up. “Okay, forget the reasons. I love you. I’m crazy about you. I even understood why Bradley wanted to kill me, because if I’d been him, I’d have wanted to kill me, too. I want to spend the rest of my days plotting with the dogs to kill that damn cat next door, and the rest of my nights making love to you. Actually, I wouldn’t mind spending a fair part of the days making love to you, too, but that’s not logical.”

  “I don’t believe in logic,” Lucy said. “I believe in love. Especially with someone who is spontaneous, irresponsible, and inappropriate.” She surveyed him critically. “That’s you.”

  The relief that flooded through Zack was as intense as his amazement.

  “What? When did all this happen?”

  “Last night when Bradley shot out the windows and almost killed you,” Lucy said. “I thought you were dead, and it was the worst thing I could imagine.” She stopped, chilled at the thought and at how close he’d come again that afternoon, and then she went on. “And then you were all right, and that’s when I decided to marry you.”

  “You did? Last night?” Zack glared at her. “Why didn’t you mention it before now? I’ve been tying myself in knots trying to figure out a way to get you to say yes.”

  “Evidently,” Lucy said. “‘The dogs need a father’? That’s pathetic.”

  “I was desperate,” Zack said. “I can’t believe this. You really are going to marry me? Not that you have any choice. I’m moving in anyway.”

  “Yes, I will marry you,” Lucy said, and Zack said, “Damn right, you will,” and kissed her, holding her tight, until she broke the kiss, laughing and gasping for air, and then he buried his face in her coppery curls, almost paralyzed with gratitude that everything was finally all right.

  “SO YOU’RE GOING TO marry a cop,” Tina said later, when Zack was gone with Anthony, and they were alone. “They have the highest divorce rate next to dentists, you know.”

  “Don’t be so logical,” Lucy said.

  Tina blinked.

  Lucy laughed.

  Strange Bedpersons

  by Jennifer Crusie

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  One

  When Tess Newhart threw open her apartment door, Nick Jamieson was standing there—tall, dark, successful and suspiciously happy to see her, his pleasantly blunt face a nice human contrast to his perfectly tailored suit. She stared at him warily, fighting down the ridiculous jolt of relief, happiness, and lust that welled up in her just because he was back.

  Then he threw his arms wide to hug her.

  “Tess!” he said, beaming at her. “You look great!”

  Tess looked down at her sagging, bleach-splotched sweats. So much for relief, happiness and lust. She rolled her eyes at him, all her suspicions confirmed. “Right.” She slammed the door in his face and shot home both dead bolts.

  “Aw, come on, Tess,” Nick called through the door. “It’s been a month. Actually it’s been a month, a week and two days, but who’s counting? All right, I’m counting. I miss you. I keep calling but you won’t call me back. Is that fair? I think we should talk about this.”

  “I don’t,” Tess said firmly to the door, but she ran her fingers through her short red curls. If Nick hadn’t had such a large streak of calculating rat running through him, he would have been just what she needed at the moment, instead of the last thing she needed. But there was that streak of rat, and if he was at her door being charming it was because he wanted something. And the something probably wasn’t her. It was something to do with money, promotion, status or all of the above. She shook her head and turned back to cross the threadbare gray carpet to her chair and her conversation.

  “Who’s the wise guy? Your landlord?” Gina DeCosta sprawled on Tess’s lumpy couch, her unruly black hair falling into her eyes, her small body lost in a huge black T-shirt, and her legs wrapped in black leggings as tight as Ace bandages. She stretched out tentatively and winced.

  “Worse.” Tess flopped down into her decrepit armchair, which groaned under her weight, and slung her long legs over the side. “You know, every time I think my life has hit bottom, somebody lowers the bottom.”

  Nick pounded on the door. “Come on, Tess. Open up.”

  “Who is that guy?” Gina said.

  “Nick, but I don’t want to talk about it. Between him and my landlord, I may never open that door again.” Tess patted her lap, and a huge black cat jumped into her arms, reclaiming the territory she’d lost when Tess had gone to answer the door. “Sorry, Angela,” Tess murmured to the cat.

  “Tess?” Nick called. “Come on. Let’s be adult about this. Or you can be adult and I’ll fake it. Tess?”

  Gina frowned at the door. “Why are you ducking Nick?”

  “Well.” Tess thought for a minute. “It’s like this.” She stood up, dumping the cat off her lap again. “I answered the door and he said—” she flung her arms wide and beamed a toothpaste smile at Gina “—Tess, you look great!”

  Gina looked at Tess’s sweats. “Uh-oh.”

  “Exactly.” Tess flopped back into her chair. “You know, every time I see Nick, my mind looks at him and says, ‘Yes, he’s fun, but he’s also a power-hungry rat, so stay away from him,’ and then my body looks at him and says, ‘Hello, gorgeous, come to Mama.”’ She shook her head. “I have to have a long talk with my body.”

  Gina looked at the sweats again. “I don’t think it’s gonna listen to you. If you dressed me like that, I wouldn’t listen to you.”

  “Forget the clothes,” Tess said. “You’re starting to sound like Nick.”

  “Okay. New topic. Why are you waiting for your landlord?”

  “I reported him to the housing commission.” Tess smiled, cheered up by the thought.

  “Well, that was unfriendly,” Gina said. “What did he do?”

  “It’s what he didn’t do.” Tess shifted in her chair as she warmed to the story of her landlord’s crimes. “Three apartments in this building have been vandalized in the past two months, and Ray won’t even fix the lock on the hall door. Anybody can walk in here. Somebody had to do something.” She grinned at Gina. “And, I thought, who better than me?”

  “Tess?” Nick called again. “It’s not safe out here. If I get mugged because you’re playing hard to get, you’ll never forgive yourself.”

  Both women turned to look at the door, and then Gina looked at Tess. Tess shrugged.

  “Okay,” Gina said, abandoning the subject of Nick. “So you did something. That’s no big surprise. I’m just amazed you did something as calm as reporting him.”

  “Well, I thought about organizing a candlelight-vigil protest march,” Tess said, starting to grin again. “I thought all the tenants could light candles and march on Ray’s condominium, but this place is such a firetrap I knew we’d never make it to the front door alive, so then I thought about using Bic lighters, instead, but that made me think of Stanley across the hall.”

  “Stanley?”

  “You’ve never seen Stanley?” Tess’s grin widened. “Stanley always wears the same T-shirt and it doesn’t cover his tummy, and Stanley’s tummy is not attractive. In fact, Stanley’s stomach is the only one I’ve ever seen with a five-o’clock shadow.” She frowned at Gina. “Do you suppose he sh
aves it?”

  Gina made a face. “That’s gross.”

  “I think so, too, which is why I couldn’t picture Stanley with a Bic. A torch, yes. A Bic, no.” Tess smiled again. “But then I thought, why not give Stanley a pitchfork and put him at the head of the march?” She stopped to visualize it. “You know, there’s a lot of Quasimodo in Stanley.”

  “Come on, Tess, cut me a break here,” Nick called. “I came back to apologize. Doesn’t that count for something?”

  Gina raised an eyebrow at Tess, but Tess shook her head, so Gina returned to Stanley. “I don’t think Quasimodo had a pitchfork,” she said. “He didn’t in the movie.”

  “Anyway, I finally had to get serious before somebody around here got hurt,” Tess said. “So I acted like an adult and filed the report.”

  “Good choice,” Gina said. “Getting arrested for pitchforking Ray the landlord would probably have been bad for your career.”

  “Well, actually my career is sort of dead right now.” Tess slumped down in her chair. “I wasn’t going to tell you since this is your first night back from the tour and I was looking forward to one night without trauma, but…I lost my job.”

  “Oh, no.” Gina sat up, her face bleak with sympathy and concern. “What happened?”

  “Don’t panic,” Tess said from the depths of her chair. “I have a plan.”

  “Sure you do,” Gina said. “What happened?”

  “Funding cuts. The education governor we elected decided that supporting private-tutoring foundations wasn’t educational. So now the Foundation is going to have to only use volunteers. Eventually the whole place may go.”

  “Tess, I’m really sorry,” Gina said. “Really. I know how much those kids meant to you.”

  “Hey.” Tess straightened and glared at Gina with mock severity. “I’m not finished yet. The kids aren’t leaving. And neither am I. I just have to find a job to pay my bills that gives me my afternoons free so I can still volunteer there.” She grinned. “I saw Pretty Woman the other night on TV, and Julia Roberts was having such a good time being objectified by Richard Gere that I seriously thought about taking up hooking, but then I thought, thirty-six is a little old to hit the streets.”