Mirror Image

is getting tiresome.”
    “You
are
a fag.”
    He snorted. “Believe that if you want to, if it salves your ego.”
    “Then you’re bound to be getting it from somebody, because it’s just not normal for a man to go without.” She scooted closer to him and clutched his sleeve. “Who are you sleeping with, Eddy—somebody who works at headquarters?”
    “Fancy—”
    “That redhead with the skinny butt? I’ll bet it’s her! She’s divorced, I hear, and probably real hot.” She clutched his sleeve tighter. “Why would you want to screw somebody old like her when you could have me?”
    He brought the car to a stop in the circular drive in front of the house. He caught her by both shoulders and shook her hard. “Because I don’t screw children—especially one who opens her thighs to every stiff dick that comes along.”
    His anger only fanned her desire. Passion of any kind aroused and excited her. Eyes alight, she reached down and pressed his crotch with the palm of her hand. Her lips curved into a smug smile. “Why, Eddy, darlin’!” she exclaimed in a sultry whisper. “Yours is stiff.”
    Cursing, he pushed her away and got out of the car. “As far as you’re concerned, that’s how it’ll stay.”
    Fancy took time to rebutton her blouse and compose herself before following him into the house. The contest had resulted in a tie. He hadn’t dragged her off to bed, but he had wanted to. That was progress she could live with for a while… but not indefinitely.
    As she reached the door leading to her wing, her mother emerged. Dorothy Rae was walking straight, but her eyes were glazed with the effects of several drinks.
    “Hello, Fancy.”
    “I’m going to Corpus Christi for a few days,” she announced. If Eddy refused to take her, she’d just surprise him in the coastal city. “I’m leaving in the morning. Give me some money.”
    “You can’t leave town right now.”
    Fancy’s fist found a prop on her shapely hip. Her eyes narrowed the way they were wont to do when she didn’t immediately get her way. “Why the hell not?”
    “Nelson said everybody had to be here,” her mother said. “Carole’s coming home tomorrow.”
    “Oh, piss,” Fancy muttered. “Just what I need.”

Thirteen
    She saw him in the mirror.
    Seated at the small dressing table in her room at the clinic, Avery made eye contact with Tate as he came in. They held their stare as she gradually lowered the powder puff to the mirrored surface of the table, then swiveled on the stool and met him face-to-face.
    He tossed his coat and several department store shopping bags onto the bed while his eyes remained on her. Tightly clasping her hands in her lap, Avery laughed nervously. “The suspense is killing me.”
    “You look beautiful.”
    She moistened her lips, which were already shiny with carefully applied gloss. “The resident cosmetologist came today and gave me a makeup lesson. I’ve been using cosmetics for years, but I figured I needed a refresher course. Besides, the consultation comes with the room.” Again she gave him a nervous little smile.
    Actually, she had wanted an excuse to improve Carole’s mode of makeup, which, in Avery’s opinion, had been applied with too heavy a hand. “I tried a new technique. Do you think it looks all right?”
    She offered her face up for his review. In spite of his reluctance to come any closer, he did. Placing his hands on his knees, he bent from the waist and gave her uplifted face a thorough inspection. “Can’t even see the scars. Nothing. It’s incredible.”
    “Thank you.” She gave him a smile a woman gives her loving husband.
    Except Tate wasn’t her husband and he wasn’t loving. He straightened up and turned his back on her. Avery closed her eyes momentarily, tamping down her discouragement. He didn’t have a forgiving nature, she’d learned. Carole had shattered his trust in her. It was going to be difficult to win him back.
    “Are you accustomed to my new look yet?”
    “It’s growing on me.”
    “There are differences,” she remarked in an unsure voice.
    “You look younger.” He shot her a glance over his shoulder, then added beneath his breath, “Prettier.”
    Avery left the dressing table and moved toward him. She laid her hand on his arm and drew him around. “Really? Prettier?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Prettier how? In what way?”
    Just as she had learned the extent of his inability to forgive, she had also learned the extent of his ability