Unavailable Chapter 15
Title: Unavailable, Chapter 15
Authors: Bugs and Aussie
Rated: M
Genre: A/U, Drama, Romance, Humour
Word Count: 3,400
Chapter Summary: Bill and Laura reunite while Carolanne moves forward with her plans to keep them apart.
Chapter 15:
“Then, you tuck this end behind here, and...pull on this end and...a rose!”
Sherry smiled as Lee presented the ‘flower’ made from the diner’s red paper napkin to her daughter with a flourish.
“Now, how about ice cream?” he asked the child before belatedly glancing up at Sherry for approval.
Pamela swung around to her mother, her huge blue eyes imploring.
“Sure, sugar,” Sherry agreed, but her smile quickly faded as Lee turned away to motion for a waitress. Allowing Pamela to think Lee Adams was going to be their knight in shining armour was dangerous.
At the other end of the diner, Carolanne Adams watched the cosy scene unfolding discreetly from behind her hat’s veil and a strategically placed menu.
*
Bill had that obstinate set to his jaw that Laura knew well. Folding her arms, she waited to hear what he was going to say.
"Zarek planned everything to take over Roslin Industries, and obviously nothing is going to stop him," he said passionately. "Hell, he had an innocent woman murdered to scare off Peter Laird."
His voice shook. "What would he do to you?"
Laura couldn't hold her tongue another moment. "What will he do to you, darling?" she said, laying her hands on his chest to look up into his eyes, trying to make him see what she saw.
"If killing me would have gotten him what he wanted, Tom would have killed me years ago. For whatever reason, he wants me around," she pointed out. "But you--"
Now it was time for her voice to quaver. "He's gone to a great deal to trouble get you out of my life. Where will he stop?"
Bill grinned manfully and her fists balled with handfuls of his suit's lapels.
"Oh now, I can take care of myself--"
"They want us apart for a reason," she insisted. "He knows you give me strength and I give you--" Her gaze swept over him. "Some damn common sense!"
He raised eyebrows in outrage.
"You think you can handle Carolanne?" she challenged him.
"Of course--"
"She's been playing you like a violin since she walked through those doors," Laura insisted. "And don't forget, she faked her death. She's apparently pretending to be ill so her children will help her to harm you. She's a desperate woman who'll stop at nothing to get what she wants!"
He opened his mouth to protest. Laura held his gaze.
Finally he nodded.
Laura stepped closer, concern replacing her anger. "You know I'm right, Bill. She has to be stopped."
His arm went around her, drawing her to him. Suddenly weak, Laura rested her head on his shoulder. She stroked his cheek, feeling the slight stubble that told her it was evening. Burying her fingers in his hair, she drew his mouth to hers, no longer with the frantic desperation of earlier, but just as driven.
"We can't--" Bill mumbled, his lips still on hers even as he broke the kiss.
"Mmmm?" she hummed, shifting her body against his. His lips said no, no, but something else was saying yes.
It was time to play dirty. "Bill, I need to know that we're united on this," she said craftily, tugging his tie loose.
"I'm not going to ever abandon you," he promised earnestly, his hands, apparently with a will of their own, undoing her apron.
"No, no," she agreed. "But I believe we should fortify ourselves for the fight ahead."
Her nimble fingers flicked open the buttons on his shirt.
"I've been so lonely without you, Bill, I need something to help me carry on." She put that quiver back in her voice and he looked instantly concerned. "It's felt like two years, not two nights."
"Yes, I've had a tough time too," he admitted. "We should make sure we can stay focused--"
"Exactly," Laura said, glancing over her shoulder at the couch. "Blow off some steam, so to speak--"
Laura talking about blowing anything made Bill instantly lose interest in the threat to their lives. He snatched her mink coat from the chair and draped it across the couch. "Emily has to sit here with her children," he explained shakily.
*
Lee sipped his coffee. “Can we do this again?” he asked. “Go out for dinner? How about a movie?”
Sherry picked up the ‘rose’ and scrunched it into a ball before leaning over to wipe Pamela’s mouth with it. “I’m not sure. I’ll have to ask my boss. She’s not keen on--”
“Your employer arranges your social calendar, dear?”
Lee, Sherry and Pamela all looked up at the blonde woman standing beside their table, smiling broadly down at them.
“Mother--” Lee sputtered.
“Hello dear, what a coincidence, being at the same diner,” Carolanne oozed.
Lee jumped to his feet and leaned around his mother, belatedly searching the other patrons in the restaurant. “Father--”
“Is home at the apartment,” Carolanne finished for him. She turned her gaze towards Sherry, pinning the younger woman with an intense gaze. “Which is for the best, I think.”
Sherry shivered. All her confidence that she could handle Lee Adams disappearing as she stared up into Carolanne Adams’ emotionless eyes.
*
Laura’s body rose over Bill’s, and then lowered slowly. One of his hands cradled her damp cheek. With the other, he caressed her bare back with the silken sleeve of her mink coat.
Laura let out a loud relieved sigh as she settled into place. Bill chuckled in unison.
He held her down, his arms wrapped tightly around her. He needed to just revel in their reunion. Laura seemed to understand this, only kissing him lightly everywhere she could reach, murmuring too low for him to comprehend her words. They remained like this for long minutes, until neither of them could stay still. They both needed to move; required the pleasure that came when their bodies rhythmically parted and joined, soft against hard, wet against hot.
Bill allowed Laura to set the pace. He was surprised that she decided on one that was slow and leisurely.
“I thought you’d want to take this faster," he gasped. "Not that I’m complaining, mind you.” He stroked her rigid arms as she braced herself on the couch's back.
She only laughed in reply, all the joy that had been missing for the past few days in the sound.
Bill tucked Laura’s hair back behind her ears so he could watch the expressions dance across her face as she lazily rocked on top of him.
“When have I ever been impatient?” she challenged him, blinking to focus on his face and the silly grin shining up at her.
“When indeed,” he laughed, running his hands over and around her breasts. This was reckless, but instead of pure passion, it was poignant. “This kinda reminds me of our first time. On a couch, you on top, driving me insane with your beauty, not quite married...”
“We are,” she bit out. “We are married, Bill,” she repeated, increasing her tempo in time with her irritation.
Bill was almost happy that his words had caused some of her control to falter.
“You know what I remember?” Laura continued, bitterness lacing her tone. “I remember that you promised me that you’d never leave me. That I’d never have to be alone ever again.”
Bill lifted his hips, his thrusts matching her temper. He knew now he could never leave her. He had spent every day since they’d met on the docks trying to tell himself that she didn’t own him, no matter how much money she had. He often repeated to himself that he was his own man and that he wasn’t just another of her possessions.
He’d been so wrong. She had not bought him with her bank account, but with her treasure--this intense intimacy...
She altered her angle until their bodies came together in a way nearly painful.. She was angry; taking everything that was hers. “We are married, Bill,” she muttered as she rose on her knees again.
He thrust up hard, shocking and pleasing her in the one movement. Tightly, she wrapped her arms around his neck, growling in his ear. He was hers.
Too soon, she froze above him and cried out unashamedly, before falling forward and gripping his shoulders, quivering and whimpering in his ear--she had not been able to go slow after all. Her coming apart was enough to make him follow her to completion; he would always follow her, no matter where the journey carried them.
Their breathing finally slowing, they lay still joined, her head buried in his chest, for a long time afterwards. Every time she made to move, he held her firm, needing her familiar weight above him.
Eventually, she forced him to free her enough so that she could gaze directly into his eyes. There were no declarations of love tonight, instead she repeated vehemently, “I am your wife.”
He reached up to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Yeah, you are,” he agreed.
Giving her bare bottom a light slap, he told her, "And as such, I'm going to teach you how to cook."
*
A small fire cast a cosy glow and painted shadows across the book-lined walls of the downstairs east parlor of Roslin Mansion.
Saul Tigh lounged in one of the room’s plush armchairs, his head drooping onto his chest. His hand loosely gripped a glass of sherry which leaned at a precarious angle--an apertif, to whet your appetite, he’d claimed and all the rage in Europe before the troubles, he’d insisted. Even without the alcohol's effect, the rhythmical movement of his companion’s knitting needles lulled him into a stupor.
He jerked to attention at a knock on the door before it opened to reveal Jaffee. However, the elderly butler wasn’t announcing Cook was ready with their dinner. “Excuse me, Mr Saul, but you have a guest.”
“Me?” He blinked. Surely Jaffee wouldn’t bother to announce Bill if he was the guest. And who else did he know in San Francisco?
“Yes, sir. Mr Peter Laird.”
“Tell him to wait in Miss Laura’s office, Jaffee,” Elosha ordered softly before either man had a chance to say anything else.
Jaffee and Saul exchanged glances. Should they argue, they wondered. No, best not, they agreed.
Saul placed his glass onto the low table between his and Elosha’s chair after the door shut behind the butler.
“I have a guest,” he muttered, rising.
“Sit down, Mr Saul.” Elosha’s tone broached no argument.
Saul flopped back into his seat with a loud huff. “What do you want me to do, woman? Just stay here while my visitor paces around the office, wondering what’s going on?”
“Miss Emily’s working late.”
“Yeah, so?” Saul mumbled, rebelliously half-rising out of his armchair again.
“Sit down, Mr Saul.”
Saul folded his arms across his chest, petulant.
Elosha returned to her knitting.
*
Carolanne watched as Sherry disappeared into the restroom with Pamela.
“Sherry seems like a lovely girl,” she commented, before sipping coffee. “Where on earth did you meet her?” she asked, widening her eyes and smiling as she posed that particularly tricky question.
Lee’s reaction didn’t disappoint. His Adam’s apple visibly wobbled as he gulped on a mouthful of air.
“I...It was...,” he eventually stammered.
“Did Kara introduce you? I do think Sherry and Kara would have lots in common.” Not a lie, she thought. From what she’d garnered about Kara Thrace’s personality, she was no better than a common streetwalker.
“No! No, Kara doesn’t know Sherry.”
Carolanne delicately took another sip of her drink, eyeing her son over the cup’s lip. She wondered how far he could be pushed. He was always so weak. No wonder Zarek was confident.
“Has your father met her?”
“What? No, no...I don’t think...”
“Is there something wrong, dear?” She carefully placed her cup in its saucer and leaned forward. “Do you think you’re feeling a little bit nervous because your date is a prostitute?” she whispered.
"Mother!" he gasped, looking around the diner to see if anyone else had heard.
Carolanne went on unheeded. "Instead of throwing a leg over this harlot, you should be looking after your mother," she said coldly.
"Father--"
"Is obviously where you've gotten these proclivities from," she said with a shudder.
"That Laura Roslin...That slut--the things I've heard about her!" she hissed.
Lee hunched his shoulders, trying to block out her raving--he'd forgotten how she got. He thought he could smell brandy on her breath as she leaned closer.
"He's not going to take care of me, Leland. He's going to push me out of my home, just like he did before. I need your help; your protection."
He took a deep, shaking breath. "Yes, Mother. What can I do?"
With a satisfied smile, Carolanne settled back in the booth.
*
Emily never bothered to look up from her typewriter when she heard Laura’s office door open.
“Thanks, Jaffee,” she called breezily. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
She would transcribe two more pages of dictation from her stenopad before she joined Elosha and Saul Tigh for dinner. Laura had made a promise of a long weekend--Saturday and Sunday, plus the coming Monday--in return for her crazy house swap idea. The least Emily could do was ensure that her work was up to date before then.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise--”
Emily’s fingers froze on the keyboard. She swung around to see the familiar unassuming figure of Peter Laird hovering just inside the doorway.
“You’re not Jaffee,” she murmured, and then closed her eyes at her inane comment. She stood, flustered. What was he doing here? “Mrs Adams isn’t home.”
“I didn’t come to see Mrs Adams.”
“You didn’t?” She blinked. Could he...
“My mother is babysitting,” he explained. “She practically threw me out of the house. I thought perhaps Mr Tigh would like to join me for a drink somewhere.”
“Oh, of course,” she mumbled, giving him a bland smile before turning away and winding the letter from her typewriter.
Peter gripped the brim of the hat he was holding tighter. He never expected Emily to still be at the mansion and he hadn’t been thinking when he’d blurted out his reason for visiting. He stared at her stiff back as she carefully placed a cover over her typewriter. She probably thought he was some laze-about, skipping out on his children and frequenting bars every time his mother came through the door to watch them.
“It doesn’t have to be an alcoholic drink,” he stressed. “I haven’t been to the pictures in a long time.”
She finally turned to face him, and he felt himself flushing as she studied him. He just bet his freckles were standing out on his pink cheeks.
“I’m not sure Mr Tigh likes the pictures,” she said with daring. "He seems more of a nightclub man."
“Then perhaps I won't ask Mr Tigh,” he suggested shyly.
She stared over at him, nibbling at her bottom lip, for what seemed an age. Eventually she turned away from him again, but this time she only moved to the stand near the door and retrieved her coat.
“So, what shall we see?” she asked.
He expelled a relieved breath and stepped closer to politely assist her with the coat. “There’s that new Marx Brothers--”
“Marx Brothers?” She wrinkled her nose as she slipped her purse over her shoulder.
“You don’t think they’re funny?” he asked, opening the office door and gesturing for her to walk out first.
“I was hoping to see The Women,” Emily said as Young Jaffee darted forward with Peter's overcoat.
“The Women?” It seemed natural to offer his arm for Emily to slip her gloved hand around. “It only has women in it...” he said with a gulp.
"Hey, where you goin'?" asked Saul, appearing at the parlor's doorway. He'd managed to convince Elosha that he was only going out from a cigarette, but he wanted to slip up to his room for a nip of something harder than the silky-soft sherry.
Peter and Emily stared at him speechless, both their faces flooding with embarrassment.
Peter finally croaked, "Out."
"Well why didn't you come grab me," Saul asked, nodding to the young footman for his coat and hat. "This place is a tomb! Let's get outta here."
Elosha came to stand beside him in the doorway, glaring up at the tall man.
"Wanna come?" he said to her, oblivious to her fury.
"No thank you, Mr. Tigh," she said, her words clipped.
"We could go somewhere mixed," he said, still not reading her mood.
"I'm deathly tired," she said, "and I'm sure you are too."
"Hell, no," Saul said, accepting his hat and coat from the footman. "Okay then, we'll be back later."
Elosha exchanged shrugs with Emily, but had to admit defeat. She'd thought Mr Adams was the most hard-headed man she'd ever met, but Saul Tigh appeared to run a close second.
*
“You can probably flip it now,” Bill suggested, resting his chin on Laura’s shoulder to check on the steak in the pan.
“Already? I left it for much longer before.”
"I think we just proved that some things can't be left for too long," he rumbled, his hands seeking her warm, bare skin under her mink coat. She was insisting on wearing it again, with the apron over the top.
She shifted into his touch as she turned the steaks with the fork. "No, we simply can't be apart," she said smugly, but her smile faded when he started talking again, with that authoritative tone she'd come to know meant trouble for her.
"But darling, we can't risk this again," he said, even as he palmed her breasts. "If Zarek and Carolanne were to suspect that their plan wasn't working, I'm afraid their next step would be violence."
"But darling," she countered, "the meeting isn't for two weeks. We will need to see each other again to review our plans and we might as well assure that our focus remains strong--" She rubbed her bottom against his hips as she stirred the bubbling pot of potatoes.
He cleared his throat painfully. "Well, yes..."
"Dare we meet here again?" she said quickly, seeing her opening.
"I don't think so," he said with regret.
She cradled his cheek behind her shoulder. "Come to the house."
"You trust the staff, but Zarek surely has spies watching," he pointed out.
"There's ways to sneak in," she assured him. "I'll move that pink-shaded lamp to the window. When you see it lit, it's safe to come to me."
He nuzzled her neck. "I'll come to you," he promised.
Confident that she'd won her battle, Laura hummed happily.
"We can review the vote counts; I can work on those shareholders I have influence with," he said.
She frowned slightly. "Uh, yes, we'll review...Later."
He chuckled knowingly. "At least those shares I gave the boys are a lock for your side."
Laura narrowed her eyes in thought, but didn't reply.
"I think the taters are done," Bill said, reaching for the pot on the back burner. But when he turned, Jake was underfoot, drooling up at them.
"Dammit, dog, you're not going to share our dinner," scolded Bill.
Putting the pot back on the stove, he shooed Jake to the front door. "Get downstairs. Bridgette will have your bone ready for you."
Bill firmly closed the door on his dog's beseeching face. Jake looked at the closed door for a moment, but when it didn't reopen, started down the stairs to the Adams' apartment.
Carolanne was coming up the stairwell and the dog stopped suddenly at the sight of her.
"What are you doing out?" she said disagreeably.
He turns tail and dashed back up the stairs toward Emily's apartment.
Bridgette opened the apartment door and peered out. "Mr. Adams?" she called fretfully.
"Isn't Mr. Adams home yet?" Carolanne asked, craning her neck to look up the stairwell.
"No ma'am," Bridgette said, her eyes round.
"No ma'am, Mrs Adams," Carolanne corrected her as she mounted the stairs to follow Jake.
End of Chapter 15
Authors: Bugs and Aussie
Rated: M
Genre: A/U, Drama, Romance, Humour
Word Count: 3,400
Chapter Summary: Bill and Laura reunite while Carolanne moves forward with her plans to keep them apart.
Chapter 15:
“Then, you tuck this end behind here, and...pull on this end and...a rose!”
Sherry smiled as Lee presented the ‘flower’ made from the diner’s red paper napkin to her daughter with a flourish.
“Now, how about ice cream?” he asked the child before belatedly glancing up at Sherry for approval.
Pamela swung around to her mother, her huge blue eyes imploring.
“Sure, sugar,” Sherry agreed, but her smile quickly faded as Lee turned away to motion for a waitress. Allowing Pamela to think Lee Adams was going to be their knight in shining armour was dangerous.
At the other end of the diner, Carolanne Adams watched the cosy scene unfolding discreetly from behind her hat’s veil and a strategically placed menu.
*
Bill had that obstinate set to his jaw that Laura knew well. Folding her arms, she waited to hear what he was going to say.
"Zarek planned everything to take over Roslin Industries, and obviously nothing is going to stop him," he said passionately. "Hell, he had an innocent woman murdered to scare off Peter Laird."
His voice shook. "What would he do to you?"
Laura couldn't hold her tongue another moment. "What will he do to you, darling?" she said, laying her hands on his chest to look up into his eyes, trying to make him see what she saw.
"If killing me would have gotten him what he wanted, Tom would have killed me years ago. For whatever reason, he wants me around," she pointed out. "But you--"
Now it was time for her voice to quaver. "He's gone to a great deal to trouble get you out of my life. Where will he stop?"
Bill grinned manfully and her fists balled with handfuls of his suit's lapels.
"Oh now, I can take care of myself--"
"They want us apart for a reason," she insisted. "He knows you give me strength and I give you--" Her gaze swept over him. "Some damn common sense!"
He raised eyebrows in outrage.
"You think you can handle Carolanne?" she challenged him.
"Of course--"
"She's been playing you like a violin since she walked through those doors," Laura insisted. "And don't forget, she faked her death. She's apparently pretending to be ill so her children will help her to harm you. She's a desperate woman who'll stop at nothing to get what she wants!"
He opened his mouth to protest. Laura held his gaze.
Finally he nodded.
Laura stepped closer, concern replacing her anger. "You know I'm right, Bill. She has to be stopped."
His arm went around her, drawing her to him. Suddenly weak, Laura rested her head on his shoulder. She stroked his cheek, feeling the slight stubble that told her it was evening. Burying her fingers in his hair, she drew his mouth to hers, no longer with the frantic desperation of earlier, but just as driven.
"We can't--" Bill mumbled, his lips still on hers even as he broke the kiss.
"Mmmm?" she hummed, shifting her body against his. His lips said no, no, but something else was saying yes.
It was time to play dirty. "Bill, I need to know that we're united on this," she said craftily, tugging his tie loose.
"I'm not going to ever abandon you," he promised earnestly, his hands, apparently with a will of their own, undoing her apron.
"No, no," she agreed. "But I believe we should fortify ourselves for the fight ahead."
Her nimble fingers flicked open the buttons on his shirt.
"I've been so lonely without you, Bill, I need something to help me carry on." She put that quiver back in her voice and he looked instantly concerned. "It's felt like two years, not two nights."
"Yes, I've had a tough time too," he admitted. "We should make sure we can stay focused--"
"Exactly," Laura said, glancing over her shoulder at the couch. "Blow off some steam, so to speak--"
Laura talking about blowing anything made Bill instantly lose interest in the threat to their lives. He snatched her mink coat from the chair and draped it across the couch. "Emily has to sit here with her children," he explained shakily.
*
Lee sipped his coffee. “Can we do this again?” he asked. “Go out for dinner? How about a movie?”
Sherry picked up the ‘rose’ and scrunched it into a ball before leaning over to wipe Pamela’s mouth with it. “I’m not sure. I’ll have to ask my boss. She’s not keen on--”
“Your employer arranges your social calendar, dear?”
Lee, Sherry and Pamela all looked up at the blonde woman standing beside their table, smiling broadly down at them.
“Mother--” Lee sputtered.
“Hello dear, what a coincidence, being at the same diner,” Carolanne oozed.
Lee jumped to his feet and leaned around his mother, belatedly searching the other patrons in the restaurant. “Father--”
“Is home at the apartment,” Carolanne finished for him. She turned her gaze towards Sherry, pinning the younger woman with an intense gaze. “Which is for the best, I think.”
Sherry shivered. All her confidence that she could handle Lee Adams disappearing as she stared up into Carolanne Adams’ emotionless eyes.
*
Laura’s body rose over Bill’s, and then lowered slowly. One of his hands cradled her damp cheek. With the other, he caressed her bare back with the silken sleeve of her mink coat.
Laura let out a loud relieved sigh as she settled into place. Bill chuckled in unison.
He held her down, his arms wrapped tightly around her. He needed to just revel in their reunion. Laura seemed to understand this, only kissing him lightly everywhere she could reach, murmuring too low for him to comprehend her words. They remained like this for long minutes, until neither of them could stay still. They both needed to move; required the pleasure that came when their bodies rhythmically parted and joined, soft against hard, wet against hot.
Bill allowed Laura to set the pace. He was surprised that she decided on one that was slow and leisurely.
“I thought you’d want to take this faster," he gasped. "Not that I’m complaining, mind you.” He stroked her rigid arms as she braced herself on the couch's back.
She only laughed in reply, all the joy that had been missing for the past few days in the sound.
Bill tucked Laura’s hair back behind her ears so he could watch the expressions dance across her face as she lazily rocked on top of him.
“When have I ever been impatient?” she challenged him, blinking to focus on his face and the silly grin shining up at her.
“When indeed,” he laughed, running his hands over and around her breasts. This was reckless, but instead of pure passion, it was poignant. “This kinda reminds me of our first time. On a couch, you on top, driving me insane with your beauty, not quite married...”
“We are,” she bit out. “We are married, Bill,” she repeated, increasing her tempo in time with her irritation.
Bill was almost happy that his words had caused some of her control to falter.
“You know what I remember?” Laura continued, bitterness lacing her tone. “I remember that you promised me that you’d never leave me. That I’d never have to be alone ever again.”
Bill lifted his hips, his thrusts matching her temper. He knew now he could never leave her. He had spent every day since they’d met on the docks trying to tell himself that she didn’t own him, no matter how much money she had. He often repeated to himself that he was his own man and that he wasn’t just another of her possessions.
He’d been so wrong. She had not bought him with her bank account, but with her treasure--this intense intimacy...
She altered her angle until their bodies came together in a way nearly painful.. She was angry; taking everything that was hers. “We are married, Bill,” she muttered as she rose on her knees again.
He thrust up hard, shocking and pleasing her in the one movement. Tightly, she wrapped her arms around his neck, growling in his ear. He was hers.
Too soon, she froze above him and cried out unashamedly, before falling forward and gripping his shoulders, quivering and whimpering in his ear--she had not been able to go slow after all. Her coming apart was enough to make him follow her to completion; he would always follow her, no matter where the journey carried them.
Their breathing finally slowing, they lay still joined, her head buried in his chest, for a long time afterwards. Every time she made to move, he held her firm, needing her familiar weight above him.
Eventually, she forced him to free her enough so that she could gaze directly into his eyes. There were no declarations of love tonight, instead she repeated vehemently, “I am your wife.”
He reached up to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Yeah, you are,” he agreed.
Giving her bare bottom a light slap, he told her, "And as such, I'm going to teach you how to cook."
*
A small fire cast a cosy glow and painted shadows across the book-lined walls of the downstairs east parlor of Roslin Mansion.
Saul Tigh lounged in one of the room’s plush armchairs, his head drooping onto his chest. His hand loosely gripped a glass of sherry which leaned at a precarious angle--an apertif, to whet your appetite, he’d claimed and all the rage in Europe before the troubles, he’d insisted. Even without the alcohol's effect, the rhythmical movement of his companion’s knitting needles lulled him into a stupor.
He jerked to attention at a knock on the door before it opened to reveal Jaffee. However, the elderly butler wasn’t announcing Cook was ready with their dinner. “Excuse me, Mr Saul, but you have a guest.”
“Me?” He blinked. Surely Jaffee wouldn’t bother to announce Bill if he was the guest. And who else did he know in San Francisco?
“Yes, sir. Mr Peter Laird.”
“Tell him to wait in Miss Laura’s office, Jaffee,” Elosha ordered softly before either man had a chance to say anything else.
Jaffee and Saul exchanged glances. Should they argue, they wondered. No, best not, they agreed.
Saul placed his glass onto the low table between his and Elosha’s chair after the door shut behind the butler.
“I have a guest,” he muttered, rising.
“Sit down, Mr Saul.” Elosha’s tone broached no argument.
Saul flopped back into his seat with a loud huff. “What do you want me to do, woman? Just stay here while my visitor paces around the office, wondering what’s going on?”
“Miss Emily’s working late.”
“Yeah, so?” Saul mumbled, rebelliously half-rising out of his armchair again.
“Sit down, Mr Saul.”
Saul folded his arms across his chest, petulant.
Elosha returned to her knitting.
*
Carolanne watched as Sherry disappeared into the restroom with Pamela.
“Sherry seems like a lovely girl,” she commented, before sipping coffee. “Where on earth did you meet her?” she asked, widening her eyes and smiling as she posed that particularly tricky question.
Lee’s reaction didn’t disappoint. His Adam’s apple visibly wobbled as he gulped on a mouthful of air.
“I...It was...,” he eventually stammered.
“Did Kara introduce you? I do think Sherry and Kara would have lots in common.” Not a lie, she thought. From what she’d garnered about Kara Thrace’s personality, she was no better than a common streetwalker.
“No! No, Kara doesn’t know Sherry.”
Carolanne delicately took another sip of her drink, eyeing her son over the cup’s lip. She wondered how far he could be pushed. He was always so weak. No wonder Zarek was confident.
“Has your father met her?”
“What? No, no...I don’t think...”
“Is there something wrong, dear?” She carefully placed her cup in its saucer and leaned forward. “Do you think you’re feeling a little bit nervous because your date is a prostitute?” she whispered.
"Mother!" he gasped, looking around the diner to see if anyone else had heard.
Carolanne went on unheeded. "Instead of throwing a leg over this harlot, you should be looking after your mother," she said coldly.
"Father--"
"Is obviously where you've gotten these proclivities from," she said with a shudder.
"That Laura Roslin...That slut--the things I've heard about her!" she hissed.
Lee hunched his shoulders, trying to block out her raving--he'd forgotten how she got. He thought he could smell brandy on her breath as she leaned closer.
"He's not going to take care of me, Leland. He's going to push me out of my home, just like he did before. I need your help; your protection."
He took a deep, shaking breath. "Yes, Mother. What can I do?"
With a satisfied smile, Carolanne settled back in the booth.
*
Emily never bothered to look up from her typewriter when she heard Laura’s office door open.
“Thanks, Jaffee,” she called breezily. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
She would transcribe two more pages of dictation from her stenopad before she joined Elosha and Saul Tigh for dinner. Laura had made a promise of a long weekend--Saturday and Sunday, plus the coming Monday--in return for her crazy house swap idea. The least Emily could do was ensure that her work was up to date before then.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise--”
Emily’s fingers froze on the keyboard. She swung around to see the familiar unassuming figure of Peter Laird hovering just inside the doorway.
“You’re not Jaffee,” she murmured, and then closed her eyes at her inane comment. She stood, flustered. What was he doing here? “Mrs Adams isn’t home.”
“I didn’t come to see Mrs Adams.”
“You didn’t?” She blinked. Could he...
“My mother is babysitting,” he explained. “She practically threw me out of the house. I thought perhaps Mr Tigh would like to join me for a drink somewhere.”
“Oh, of course,” she mumbled, giving him a bland smile before turning away and winding the letter from her typewriter.
Peter gripped the brim of the hat he was holding tighter. He never expected Emily to still be at the mansion and he hadn’t been thinking when he’d blurted out his reason for visiting. He stared at her stiff back as she carefully placed a cover over her typewriter. She probably thought he was some laze-about, skipping out on his children and frequenting bars every time his mother came through the door to watch them.
“It doesn’t have to be an alcoholic drink,” he stressed. “I haven’t been to the pictures in a long time.”
She finally turned to face him, and he felt himself flushing as she studied him. He just bet his freckles were standing out on his pink cheeks.
“I’m not sure Mr Tigh likes the pictures,” she said with daring. "He seems more of a nightclub man."
“Then perhaps I won't ask Mr Tigh,” he suggested shyly.
She stared over at him, nibbling at her bottom lip, for what seemed an age. Eventually she turned away from him again, but this time she only moved to the stand near the door and retrieved her coat.
“So, what shall we see?” she asked.
He expelled a relieved breath and stepped closer to politely assist her with the coat. “There’s that new Marx Brothers--”
“Marx Brothers?” She wrinkled her nose as she slipped her purse over her shoulder.
“You don’t think they’re funny?” he asked, opening the office door and gesturing for her to walk out first.
“I was hoping to see The Women,” Emily said as Young Jaffee darted forward with Peter's overcoat.
“The Women?” It seemed natural to offer his arm for Emily to slip her gloved hand around. “It only has women in it...” he said with a gulp.
"Hey, where you goin'?" asked Saul, appearing at the parlor's doorway. He'd managed to convince Elosha that he was only going out from a cigarette, but he wanted to slip up to his room for a nip of something harder than the silky-soft sherry.
Peter and Emily stared at him speechless, both their faces flooding with embarrassment.
Peter finally croaked, "Out."
"Well why didn't you come grab me," Saul asked, nodding to the young footman for his coat and hat. "This place is a tomb! Let's get outta here."
Elosha came to stand beside him in the doorway, glaring up at the tall man.
"Wanna come?" he said to her, oblivious to her fury.
"No thank you, Mr. Tigh," she said, her words clipped.
"We could go somewhere mixed," he said, still not reading her mood.
"I'm deathly tired," she said, "and I'm sure you are too."
"Hell, no," Saul said, accepting his hat and coat from the footman. "Okay then, we'll be back later."
Elosha exchanged shrugs with Emily, but had to admit defeat. She'd thought Mr Adams was the most hard-headed man she'd ever met, but Saul Tigh appeared to run a close second.
*
“You can probably flip it now,” Bill suggested, resting his chin on Laura’s shoulder to check on the steak in the pan.
“Already? I left it for much longer before.”
"I think we just proved that some things can't be left for too long," he rumbled, his hands seeking her warm, bare skin under her mink coat. She was insisting on wearing it again, with the apron over the top.
She shifted into his touch as she turned the steaks with the fork. "No, we simply can't be apart," she said smugly, but her smile faded when he started talking again, with that authoritative tone she'd come to know meant trouble for her.
"But darling, we can't risk this again," he said, even as he palmed her breasts. "If Zarek and Carolanne were to suspect that their plan wasn't working, I'm afraid their next step would be violence."
"But darling," she countered, "the meeting isn't for two weeks. We will need to see each other again to review our plans and we might as well assure that our focus remains strong--" She rubbed her bottom against his hips as she stirred the bubbling pot of potatoes.
He cleared his throat painfully. "Well, yes..."
"Dare we meet here again?" she said quickly, seeing her opening.
"I don't think so," he said with regret.
She cradled his cheek behind her shoulder. "Come to the house."
"You trust the staff, but Zarek surely has spies watching," he pointed out.
"There's ways to sneak in," she assured him. "I'll move that pink-shaded lamp to the window. When you see it lit, it's safe to come to me."
He nuzzled her neck. "I'll come to you," he promised.
Confident that she'd won her battle, Laura hummed happily.
"We can review the vote counts; I can work on those shareholders I have influence with," he said.
She frowned slightly. "Uh, yes, we'll review...Later."
He chuckled knowingly. "At least those shares I gave the boys are a lock for your side."
Laura narrowed her eyes in thought, but didn't reply.
"I think the taters are done," Bill said, reaching for the pot on the back burner. But when he turned, Jake was underfoot, drooling up at them.
"Dammit, dog, you're not going to share our dinner," scolded Bill.
Putting the pot back on the stove, he shooed Jake to the front door. "Get downstairs. Bridgette will have your bone ready for you."
Bill firmly closed the door on his dog's beseeching face. Jake looked at the closed door for a moment, but when it didn't reopen, started down the stairs to the Adams' apartment.
Carolanne was coming up the stairwell and the dog stopped suddenly at the sight of her.
"What are you doing out?" she said disagreeably.
He turns tail and dashed back up the stairs toward Emily's apartment.
Bridgette opened the apartment door and peered out. "Mr. Adams?" she called fretfully.
"Isn't Mr. Adams home yet?" Carolanne asked, craning her neck to look up the stairwell.
"No ma'am," Bridgette said, her eyes round.
"No ma'am, Mrs Adams," Carolanne corrected her as she mounted the stairs to follow Jake.
End of Chapter 15