“So,” he said, moving his hand. “All right. Why don’t you want to be part of the American Way?”
She chewed with her eyes closed, and he looked down her sweater again and had impure thoughts. Then she swallowed and said, “I have to give birth to be a good American? No. There are more than four million babies born in this country every year. The American Way is covered. If it worries you, you can have extra to make up for mine.”
“Me?” Cal sat back away from distraction. “I don’t want kids. I’m just surprised that you don’t. You’d make a great mom.”
“Why?” Min stopped with the sandwich halfway to her mouth.
Because she looked soft all over. Because she looked like she’d age into the kind of mother he’d have killed for. “Because you look comfortable.”
“Oh, God, yes,” Min said, glaring at him. “That’s exactly the compliment every woman longs for.”
She leaned forward to bite into her sandwich, and he watched transfixed as her breasts pressed against the lace again.
“It’s a very sexy comfortable if that makes it better,” he said.
“Marginally better,” she said, following his eyes down. “You’re looking down my sweater.”
“You’re leaning over. There’s all that red lace right there.”
“Lace is good, huh?” Min said.
“Oh, yeah.”
“My mother wins again,” Min said and bit into her hot dog.
Cal picked up his hot dog. “How’d your mother get into this?”
“She’s pervasive.” Min swallowed, frowning. “So if you don’t like kids, how’d you end up coaching?”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like kids,” Cal said, trying to think of something besides Min’s red lace. “I said I didn’t want kids. There’s a difference.”
“Good point. And yet I ask, why coach?”
“I got shanghaied,” Cal said. “We both did. Harry hates baseball as much as I hate coaching.”
“Who’s Harry?”
“My nephew.”
“Why don’t the two of you go AWOL?”
“Turns out there are other kids on the team besides Harry,” Cal said. “Who knew?”
“Funny. So you’re out here every Saturday morning?” Min shook her head. “That must have been some shanghai.”
“I got hit by the best.” He picked up a pickle and bit into it. “It’s not that bad. Roger and Tony do most of the work. They like it.”
“Roger,” Min said. “Ah yes, Roger. I have some questions about Roger.”
“Not Tony?” Cal said.
“Tony is seeing Liza,” Min said. “If Tony turns out to be a rat, Liza will exterminate him.”
“Tony’s hard to put down,” Cal said, “but I get your drift. So Bonnie’s not like that?”
“Bonnie is no pushover,” Min said. “She’s smart and she’s tough but she has this one blind spot. She believes in the fairy tale, that there’s one man in the world for her. And she thinks your friend Roger is her prince on very little evidence. So tell me about Roger.”
“Roger’s the best guy I know,” Cal said. “And he’s crazy about Bonnie. He’s going to get banged up if she walks away. Tell me about Bonnie.”
Min shifted on the blanket as she reached for her Coke can, and Cal watched her, aware of every move she made, of the smooth curve of her neck as her sweater slipped toward her shoulder, the ease in her round body as she leaned back and smiled at him, the swell of her calf under her checked skirt as it blew toward him again. “Bonnie,” she said, bringing him back to the subject at hand, “spent a year and a half looking at couches. Couches are very important, they’re right up there with beds in the hierarchy of furniture, but even I thought a year and a half was a long time looking for a couch.”
“Yes,” Cal said, trying to think of Roger instead of curves. “But—”
“Then one night we were on the way to the movies and she stopped in front of a furniture store window and said, ‘Wait a minute,’ and went in and bought this horribly expensive couch in about five minutes.” Min leaned forward again, and Cal looked down her sweater again and thought, Don’t do that, I’m getting a headache from the blood rush. “She had to put it on two different credit cards,” Min went on, “and it took her two years to pay it off, but it’s a great couch and she’s never regretted it, and when she had it reupholstered, the upholsterer said it would last forever.”
“Great,” Cal said, still looking down her sweater. She was breathing softly, just enough for the rise and fall to—
“Hello,” she said and he jerked his head up. “Not that I’m not flattered, but I’m making a point here. Roger is Bonnie’s new couch. She’s always been sure that some day her prince would show up, and she’s done a lot of dating looking for him, and now she’s taken one look at Roger and she’s sure he’s the one, and she’s going to buy him in about a minute. So if he isn’t a good guy, I want to know now so I can break it to her. Tell me he’s not a rat.”
“Roger took a year to buy a couch, too,” Cal said, regrouping.
“What kind of couch?” Min said.
“Sort of a La-Z-Boy with a thyroid problem,” Cal said. “I think it’s brown.”
Min nodded. “Bonnie bought a reproduction mission settle with cushions upholstered in a celadon William Morris print.”
“I think I know what ‘mission’ is,” Cal said. “Everything else, you were speaking Chinese.”
“Roger’s couch is toast,” Min said. “Will he mind?”
“She can chop it into kindling in front of him and he won’t blink,” Cal said.
“Can he take care of her?” Min said. “She probably won’t need it, but in a crunch—”
“He will throw his body in front of her if necessary. You have nothing to worry about with Roger. He’s the best guy I know. If I had a sister, I would let Roger marry her. It’s Bonnie I’m worried about. She’s got that efficient look that usually means she likes to boss people around. And since she’s so little, there’s probably a Napoleon complex—”
“Nope,” Min said. “She’s solid. Roger’s a lucky guy.” She finished the last of her hot dog and then licked a smear of ketchup off her thumb, and Cal lost his train of thought. “So they’re okay and we don’t have to worry,” she said when she’d wiped her hands on a napkin.
“Yep,” Cal said. “How about dessert?”
“I don’t eat dessert,” Min said.
“Really?” Cal said. “What a surprise.”
“Oh, bite me,” Min said. “I told you there’s this bridesmaid’s dress—”
Cal pulled a waxed paper bag from the cooler. “Doughnuts,” he said, but before he could go on, a too-familiar piping voice came from behind him.
“Can I have one?”
He sighed and turned around to see his skinny, grubby, dark-haired nephew standing at the end of the picnic table. “Shouldn’t you be home by now?”
“They forgot again,” Harry said, putting a lot of pathetic in his voice. It helped that he wore glasses and was small for his age. He peered around Cal. “Hello,” he said cautiously to Min.
“Min,” Cal said, glaring at Harry. “This is my nephew, Harry Morrisey. He was just leaving. Harry, this is Min Dobbs.”
“Hi, Harry,” Min said cheerfully. “You can have all the doughnuts.”
Harry brightened.
“No, you can’t.” Cal took out his cell phone. “You’d just throw them up again.”
“Maybe not.” Harry sidled closer to the doughnut bag.
“You do remember the cupcake disaster, right?” Cal said as he punched in his sister-in-law’s number.
“Can’t he have one?” Min smiled at Harry as he drew closer, her face soft and kind, and Cal and Harry both blinked at her for a moment because she was so pretty.
Then while Cal listened to the phone ring, Harry looked at Min’s skirt and poked it with his finger.
“Harry” Cal said, and Min pulled out one of her sandals.
“Here,” she told Harry, and he poked at the flower.
“Those are shoes,” Harry said, as if he were observing an anomaly.
“Yep,” Min said, watching him, her head tilted.
Harry poked the flower again. “That’s not real.”
“No,” Min said. “It’s just for fun.”
Harry nodded as if this were a new idea, which, Cal realized, it probably was. Not a lot of floppy flowers on red toes in Harry’s world.
Min reached in the bag and handed him a doughnut.
“Thank you, Min,” Harry said, still channeling abused orphans.
“Don’t buy his act,” Cal said to Min.
“I’m not.” Min grinned at Harry. “You look like you’re doing fine, kid.”
“I had to play baseball,” Harry said bitterly. “Are those hot dogs?”
“No,” Cal said. “You know you’re not allowed to have processed meat. Go over there on that bench and eat your doughnut.”
“He can eat it here,” Min said, putting her arm around him protectively.
Harry, no dummy, leaned into Min’s hip.
Bet that’s soft, Cal thought, and then realized he was close to being jealous of his eight-year-old nephew. “Harry,” he said warningly, but then his sister-in-law answered her phone. “Bink? You forgot to pick up your kid.”
“Reynolds,” Bink said in her perfectly modulated tones. “It was his turn.”
“He’s not here,” Cal said.
Bink sighed. “Poor Harry. I’ll be right there. Thank you, Cal.”
“Anything for you, babe.” Cal shut off his phone and looked over at Harry. “Your mother is coming. Look on the bright side, you get a doughnut and your mother, instead of nothing and your father.”
“Two doughnuts,” Harry said.
“Harry, you barf,” Cal said. “You can’t have two doughnuts. Now go away. This is a date. Seven years from now, you will understand what that means.”
“This isn’t a date,” Min said. “He can stay.”
Harry nodded at her sadly. “It’s okay.”
“Oh, come off it, Harrison,” Cal said, knowing Harry was milking the situation. “You have a doughnut. Go over on that bench and eat it.”
“All right.” Harry trailed disconsolately across the grass to a nearby Lutyen bench, his doughnut clutched in his grubby little hand.
“He’s so cute,” Min said, laughing softly. “Who’s Bink?”
“My sister-in-law,” Cal said, watching Harry, who still looked skinny, grubby, and bitter to him. “I don’t see the cute part. But he’s not a bad kid.”
“Bink,” Min said, as if trying to get her head around the name.
“It’s short for Elizabeth,” Cal said. “Elizabeth Margaret Remington-Pastor Morrisey.”
“Bink,” Min said. “Okay.”
Cal picked up a doughnut. “Your turn, Dobbs.”
Min leaned back. “Oh no. No, no, no.”
He leaned forward to wave it under her nose. “Come on, sin a little.”
“I hate you,” Min said, her eyes on the doughnut. “You are a beast and a vile seducer.”
Cal lifted an eyebrow. “All that for one doughnut? Come on. One won’t kill you.”
“I am not eating a doughnut,” Min said, tearing her eyes away from it. “Are you crazy? There are twelve grams of fat in one of those. I have three weeks to lose twenty pounds. Get away from me.”
“This is not just a doughnut,” Cal said, tearing it in two pieces under Min’s eyes, the chocolate icing and glaze breaking like frost, the tender pastry pulling apart in shreds. “This is a chocolate-iced Krispy Kreme glazed. This is the caviar of doughnuts, the Dom Perignon of doughnuts, the Mercedes-Benz of doughnuts.”
Min licked her lips. “I had no idea you were a pastry freak,” she said, trying to pull back farther, but the wind blew her skirt over to Cal again, and this time he moved his knee to pin it down.
He broke a bite-size piece from one of the halves. “Taste it,” he said, leaning still closer to hold the piece under her nose. “Come on.”
“No.” Min clamped her lips shut, and then shut her eyes, too, screwing up her face as she did.
“Oh, that’s adult.” He reached out and pinched her nose shut, and when she opened her mouth to protest, he popped the doughnut in.
“Oh, God,” she said, and her face relaxed as the pastry melted in her mouth, her smile curling across her face.
Cal relaxed, too, and thought, Feeding this woman is like getting her drunk.
Then she swallowed and opened her eyes, and he held out another piece so he could see that expression again. “Come here, Dobbs.”
“No,” Min said, pulling back. “No, no, no.”
“You say that a lot,” Cal said. “But the look in your eyes says you want it.”
“What I want and what I can have are two different things.” Min leaned back farther, stretching her skirt, but her eyes were on the doughnut. “Get that thing away from me.”
“Okay.” Cal sat back and bit into it while she watched, the sugar rush distracting him for a moment until Min bit her lip, her strong white teeth denting the softness there. His heart picked up speed, and she shook her head at him.
“Bastard,” she said.
He bit into the doughnut again, and she said, “That’s enough, I’m out of here,” and leaned forward to pull her skirt out from under him. “Would you get off—” she began, and he popped another piece of doughnut in her mouth and watched as her lips closed over the sweetness. Her face was beautifully blissful, her mouth soft and pouted, her full lower lip glazed with icing, and as she teased the last of the chocolate from her lip, Cal heard a rushing in his ears. The rush became a whisper—THIS one—and he breathed deeper, and before she could open her eyes, he leaned in and kissed her, tasting the chocolate and the heat of her mouth, and she froze for a moment and then kissed him back, sweet and insistent, blanking out all coherent thought. He let the taste and the scent and the warmth of her wash over him, drowning in her, and when she finally pulled back, he almost fell into her lap.
She sat across from him, her sweater rising and falling under quick breaths, her dark eyes flashing, wide awake, her lush lips parted, open for him, and then she spoke.
“More,” she breathed and he looked into her eyes and went for her.
Chapter Five
Cal’s eyes were as dark as chocolate, and Min panicked as he leaned close again. She put her hand on his chest, and said, “No, wait,” and he looked down and said, “Right,” and picked up another piece of doughnut. She opened her mouth to say, “No,” and he slipped the piece in and the heat of her mouth dissolved the icing as she closed her eyes, and the tang went everywhere, melting into pleasure. And when she opened her eyes, he was there.
He leaned forward and kissed her softly, his mouth fitting hers so perfectly that she trembled. She tasted the heat of him and licked the chocolate off his lip and felt his tongue against hers, hot and devastating, and when he broke the kiss, she was breathless and dizzy and aching for more. He held her eyes, looking as dazed as she felt, but she wasn’t deceived at all, she knew what he was.
She just didn’t care.
“More,” she said, and he reached for the pastry, but she said, “No, you,” and grabbed his shirt to pull him closer, and he kissed her hard this time, his hand on the back of her head, and she fell into him, as glitter exploded behind her eyelids. She felt his hand on her waist, sliding hot under her sweater, and her blood surged, and the rush in her head said, THIS one.
Then he jerked forward and smacked into her.
“Ouch?” she said, and he looked behind him, still clutching her with both hands.
“What the hell?” Cal said.
“I said,” Liza said, holding up her leather purse, “what are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“I cut my mouth,” Min said, touching her finger to her lip.
Cal turned back t
o her and pulled her finger away, his face flushed and concerned, and he was so close to her that she leaned forward as her heart pounded, and he did, too, his eyes half closed again, and she thought, Oh, God, yes. Then Liza jerked at Min’s arm and almost pulled her off the table.
“Get down from there, Stats,” Liza said as Min’s head reeled.
“Tony,” Cal said through his teeth.
“Sorry, pal,” Tony said. “She’s uncontrollable.”
“We were just having dessert.” Min scooted back as far as she could with Cal still sitting on her skirt. I know that was dumb, she thought, trying not to look at him, but I want that again.
“Dessert?” Liza looked down at the table. “You’re eating doughnuts?”
“Oh,” Min said, guilt clearing some of her daze.
“What are you?” Cal glared at Liza. “The calorie police? Go away.”
“No,” Liza said. “I think she should eat all the doughnuts she wants. I just don’t want you feeding them to her.”
“Why?” Cal said savagely.
“Because you are Hit-and-Run Morrisey, and she’s my best friend.” Liza tugged on Min’s arm again. “Come on. Bonnie’s waiting.”
“I’m what?”
Min tried to scoot back a little more, but Cal was still on her skirt. Which is all right, really.
“Bonnie’s over there on a park bench talking to Roger,” Tony said to Liza. “She could care less.”
“Couldn’t care less,” Liza said. “And she could.” She fixed Min with a stare. “We’ve talked about this. Get off that table.”
Right, Min thought. I don’t want to.
Across from her, Cal looked even more gorgeous than usual, enraged in the sunlight, but as her daze lifted, she remembered why she wasn’t supposed to be there. “Could I have my skirt back, please?” she said, faintly, and he rolled back enough that she could pull the fabric free. “Thank you very much. For lunch. I had a wonderful time.”
Bet Me Page 10
