Three Fates

a couple days?”
    “ Mi casa, and all that, sugarplum.”
    “It’s a hell of a story.” She crossed over to the bedroom door, angled her head in until she heard the shower start. Then, easing the door shut, she walked back to the bar and told him the whole of it.
    Gideon was wet and naked when she stepped into the bathroom with a gin and tonic. “Thought this might come in handy.”
    “Thanks.” He took the glass, downed the contents in one grateful gulp. “Do we stay?”
    “We stay,” she confirmed. “In fact, he’s generously offered you his bed.”
    Gideon remembered it from his pass through to the shower. Big, soft, red. And so appealing at that point he’d barely blinked at the mirrors on the ceiling over it. “Do I have to sleep with him?”
    She laughed. “No, you get me. Go ahead, tune out for a few hours.”
    “I will. In the morning, we’re going to work out how to get our hands on the Fate. I’m too punchy to think straight now.”
    “Then get some sleep. Mikey and I can spend some time catching up before he leaves for the theater. He’s in the chorus of Kiss Me, Kate. ”
    “Good for him. Tell him I appreciate the hospitality.”
    Still naked, still damp, Gideon went to the bed, crawled in and conked out.
     
     
    HE WOKE TO the sounds of horns and the rumble of garbage trucks. While his brain caught up he stared in mild fascination at the reflection in the overhead mirror. The red sheets hit him at the waist so that he looked as if he’d been cut in two during the night.
    No, he corrected. Like they had.
    Cleo was sprawled over him, her hair swept back, black against red, so that it seemed to melt into the sheets. Her skin was shades darker than his own so that the arm she’d flung over his chest, the long curve of her shoulder, the long line of her back lay like gold dust against the white of him and the glossy scarlet sheets.
    He remembered the dreamy sensation of her sliding into bed sometime in the night. Of her sliding over him in the dark. And him sliding into her.
    She hadn’t spoken, not a word. He hadn’t been able to see her. But he’d known the shape of her, and the taste. Even the scent. What did it mean, he wondered, when he knew her so instantly, so intimately in the dark?
    He’d have to think about it, eventually. Just as he’d have to analyze why, with a bed as big as a lake, they’d tangled together in sleep, and held on.
    But for now there were other things to think about. A man couldn’t trust his brain until it had been primed with coffee.
    He started to ease away and was surprised and oddly touched when Cleo shifted closer and snuggled in. It made him want to cuddle right back, and perhaps wake her so he could make proper use of the mirror on the ceiling.
    Won’t do, he thought and, giving her a careless kiss on the top of her head, untangled himself.
    He tugged on jeans and, leaving her sleeping, went out to find the kitchen.
    His first jolt of the day didn’t come from caffeine, but from seeing Mikey stretched out on the white leather couch all but buried in the colorful pillows, his own dread-locks and a sheet of bright emerald green.
    Though it felt awkward, the desire for coffee was stronger than his sense of propriety. Gideon skirted the couch and moved as quietly as possible into the kitchen.
    It was like a page from a catalogue, all glossy and spotless with a number of canny-looking devices tidily arranged on the counter. He opened cupboards, found dishes of navy and white, in perfectly alternating stacks. Glasses, arranged according to type and size. And finally, when he was on the point of whimpering, a bag of coffee. He opened it, swore under his breath when he stared into a bag of fragrant beans.
    “What the hell do I do with these? Chew them?”
    “You could, but it’s easier to grind them.”
    Gideon jolted, spun and stared.
    Mikey was wearing a pair of gold briefs that barely covered his balls.
    “Ah . . . sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
    “I sleep like a cat.” Mikey plucked the bag from Gideon’s hand and poured some of the beans into a grinder. “Nothing like the smell of freshly ground beans,” he said over the noise of it. “Did you sleep well?”
    “I did, yes, thanks. We shouldn’t have kicked you out of your own bed.”
    “Two of you, one of me.” He sent Gideon a sidelong look as he measured out water. “You must be starving. How about some breakfast to go with this? I’m in the mood for French