The Naughty List

by Donna Kauffman

  Smiling, she set the paint-loaded roller down in the tray and climbed down the ladder. “Well now, who’s this?” She squatted as Romeo leaped up to bathe her face in doggy kisses. Laughing, she caught his face between her hands and held him a few inches away. “Okay, boy, I like you too, but we’ve only just met.”

  “His name’s Romeo,” LJ said.

  “You certainly live up to your name, don’t you, lover boy?” She stroked the dog’s silky ears, ran a hand down his back, then stopped. Bending closer, she studied the scars. “Oh, my.” She plunked down on her butt on the drop cloth. “I think I know you.”

  “He sure knows you. Guess you never forget the person who saved your life.”

  She stared up at him. “Your sister’s dog? Then you”—she frowned in puzzlement.

  When Emily, twelve at the time, had wanted to thank Charlie, their parents had said no, she was a bad kid from a bad family. Though his folks cared too much about appearances and had some stupid, old-fashioned views, he’d heard enough about Charlie’s parents to not take his sister to their place. On Sundays Charlie helped out old Mr. DiGiannantonio, so that’s where he took Emily. Their parents found out, and he and his sister were grounded for a week.

  “I brought her over to Mr. D’s to thank you.” When Emily’d been gushing out her thanks, Lester had stood aside. Charlie had barely glanced at him. He wasn’t even sure if, on the night of the dance a year and a half later, she’d realized he was the same guy.

  “You’re…No, you can’t be. You have the same eyes, but you’re LJ. He was, uh, Chester?”

  She’d noticed his eyes. Then and now. “Lester. Lester Jacoby. Never did like Lester, so now I’m LJ.”

  Charlie was still shaking her head slowly, in denial. Her cheeks paled and she pressed her hands to them. “The Christmas dance…”

  So she had known he was the same guy. “Yeah, that was me, too.”

  “Oh, my God.” Eyes huge with shock, she thrust herself clumsily to her feet. Without another word, she rushed away.

  Well, shit.

  The dog sat on his haunches and let out a sorrowful whine.

  “Yeah, tell me about it.” LJ rested his hand on Romeo’s head and tugged gently on a silky ear. “So, what do we do now?”

  Another low whine.

  “I have to talk to her. And you’re coming with me. She likes you better than me.”

  4

  When a knock sounded on Charlie’s closed bedroom door, she kept staring up at the ceiling from her position on the bed. LJ was Lester? The geeky genius hadn’t gone on to some brilliant career in science or math, but had turned into the hot tool-belt guy?

  Tool-belt Guy was the boy who’d saved her from rape, then thought he was too damned good to have her mouth on his cock?

  Another knock.

  What’s more, LJ hadn’t bothered to tell her he was Lester. “Go away,” she yelled.

  “Not gonna happen.” The door opened.

  “Get out.” She glared at him, pissed off and mortified.

  The dog scrambled across the room and leaped onto the bed, where he again lavished her with kisses. She sat up and caught his head between her hands, evading his tongue.

  LJ dragged the desk chair over to the bed and straddled it backward, his arms resting on the back. “That was a bad night. I’m sorry if seeing me reminds you of it.”

  “Bad?” she snapped. Then she sighed. He had, after all, saved her from Drew. She shoved a pillow behind her back and Romeo curled up in her lap. “It could have been worse. Would have been, if he’d caught me.”

  “That guy was a dickhead.”

  “Understatement.” Drew was a wealthy townie who came up to snowboard on weekends. She’d fallen for him and invited him to the dance, planning to flaunt him and show the other kids she wasn’t such a loser.

  Yeah, she’d known he liked to party, and yeah, he’d been pressing her for sex, but she’d figured he was just being a guy. If he cared for her, he’d understand that her virginity mattered to her. That she wasn’t going to be like her mom, going with whatever guy caught her fancy, ending up pregnant by some stupid drunk.

  But he hadn’t cared. He’d proved it that night, treating her like shit in front of her classmates. “I was an idiot to invite him.” She drew comfort from the dog’s soft fur under her hand.

  “You didn’t know he’d try to rape you.”

  She huffed out a breath. “He’d probably heard my rep. Every guy at school thought I was a slut. Except for—”

  “The guys who spread that rumor,” he interrupted.

  Her eyes widened. “How did you know that?”

  When LJ just shrugged, she shook her head in puzzlement, then went on. “When he dragged me out to his SUV, I said I never wanted to see him again. And he said”—she took a breath—“He said I was a cheap cunt who was only good for one thing, and I’d better fucking well give it to him. He grabbed me—” She broke off, shuddering as she remembered Drew ripping her dress, wrenching off her panties.

  “You fought back and got away.”

  She’d run, flimsy dress flapping around her, high-heeled sandals soaked with frozen slush. She’d heard Drew come after her until a male voice screamed, “No!” and Drew yelled, “Fuck you!” She’d stopped and peered over her shoulder.

  Lester, that scrawny kid, had thrown himself in Drew’s path and was punching him. “Run, Charlie!” he’d hollered.

  She gazed at LJ. “I got away because you stopped him.”

  When she’d left the lighted parking area, she’d hid behind a tree, wracked with shivers, and looked back again. “He beat you up, and I didn’t help you.”

  He leaned forward over the back of the chair, blue-gray eyes intent. “The girl isn’t supposed to protect the boy. And you came back.”

  “After he was gone.” Tears frozen on her cheeks, she’d stumbled back. Lester’d had a bloody nose and a split lip—and a big smile. By some miracle, his glasses weren’t broken, and he said he’d drive her home. He’d wrapped her in a blanket from the trunk of his car and she’d felt protected, almost as if someone actually cared for her.

  Her tears had thawed, begun to run again. Self-pity wasn’t her style, but that night she’d cried—until Lester awkwardly offered sympathy. Then she’d recovered her pride, her tough-girl shell.

  When he’d stopped in front of her place, she made a flip comment about thanking her knight in shining glasses, and leaned over to plant a quick kiss on his cheek.

  At that moment, he turned his head. Their lips touched, then locked together with a strange combination of tenderness and hunger. Tears had filled her eyes again. No way would she let them fall. She pulled away, reached for his fly, said cockily, “How about I give you a real thank-you?”

  He’d been hard beneath that fly, hot against her hand as she’d unzipped him. His cock filled her hand. Less than half an hour earlier, a boy had tried to rape her. But she was in control, proving something to herself, and to Lester—that Charlie Coltrane wasn’t vulnerable.

  When she’d bent her head, he thrust her away. “No! No, Charlie.”

  Rejecting her. As the pain rushed back, her stomach clenched. She huddled against the head of the bed, holding Romeo close in her arms, and glared at LJ. “Oh yeah, it was one hell of a night. Ending with you blowing me off.” Her wording struck her and she gave a bitter laugh. “Rather than letting me blow you off. Like your fucking swollen cock was too damned good for my slutty little mouth.”

  Shocked, LJ stared at the beautiful woman curled up tight against the headboard, hugging Romeo and glaring at him.

  “Jesus, Charlie.” He thrust himself out of the chair, paced away, then returned to stand by the bed. “Turning down that blow job was the toughest thing I’ve ever done. I was crazy for you. So crazy, I couldn’t take advantage of you.”

  She frowned. “Huh? I offered, and good God, what boy turns down a blow job? Yeah, sure, you were crazy for me.”

  “If I’d been visibl
e to you,” he said, some of his teen insecurity and frustration coming out in his voice, “you’d have realized you pretty much had a stalker.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “A stalker? That’s creepy.”

  “Yeah. Sorry.” He really had been a nerd. He sank down on the edge of the bed. “I didn’t peek in your windows. Just followed you when you were in public, because I wanted to know you, wanted to feel close to you.” How could he make her understand that he, wimpy Lester, had been the only boy who got her. “Like, I knew you helped Mr. DiGiannantonio. He couldn’t keep up the house and garden, and he hated the idea of going into a home.”

  She tossed her head, still gripping the dog. “He paid me.”

  “Yeah, right. That’s why you did it.”

  Her face softened. “Okay, I liked Mr. D. He was nice to me, unlike the rest of this town.” A pause. “When I left Whistler, I worried about him. Is he still alive?”

  Finally, LJ dared to reach out. Not to hug her, because he guessed she’d reject the gesture. Instead, he leaned forward to stroke Romeo, letting his fingers brush hers. “He’s in Glen Woods. A new seniors’ home. It’s a good place, and he’s settled in okay. The old ladies love him.”

  A fond smile lit her face. “He’s a sweetie. I never understood why his family so rarely visited. Where was he before Glen Woods? That dismal place he was always bitching about?”

  “No, he was at home until a couple years ago. Then his arthritis got too bad.”

  Her brows raised. “But how did he manage?” Something in his face gave him away. “You?”

  “Emily and I took over. He’s a good old guy.” He winked. “’Course we just did it for the money.”

  She chuckled, and it seemed she’d finally relaxed. Her grip on Romeo eased, and a hand settled on the dog’s back. LJ rested his own on top of it. “He’d love it if you visited.”

  A wistful expression crossed her face, then she shook her head. “I’m staying right here until the work’s done and I can go back to Toronto.”

  Pieces started to fall into place. Her rejection of his dinner invitation, her refusal to shop for paint, the overflowing fridge and the bags of canned and packaged food. “Why?”

  Her eyes narrowed and her jaw tightened. For a moment he thought she wouldn’t answer, and when she did the words came out cold and clipped. “Whistler treated me like shit.”

  “I know.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry. But that was ten years ago.”

  She shook her head. “The memories suck. And I could run into people who knew me back then.”

  “They’ve changed and you’ve changed.”

  She pulled herself more upright, dislodging his hand and making Romeo shift position. “Yeah, right. You figure Joey’s mom would give me a second chance?”

  No. Ms. Anderson had a closed mind. Just like his own parents, who’d said Patty Shoemaker was crazy to leave her B&B to her troublemaker niece. Whistler might be a cosmopolitan community, but some people had narrow minds. “Others would. Show people who you really are rather than play the badass like you used to.”

  “Who I really am? A tattoo artist? That’d go over big.” She tossed back her hair. “Why should I? I don’t need the aggro. I’ll be gone in a week.”

  LJ sensed she’d taken all she could handle. It wasn’t the time to push. “How about I leave Romeo here tonight?”

  She gazed up at him, biting her lip. Then she said, “Thank you. I’d be glad of the company.”

  “Don’t see him complaining either.” He smiled down at the two of them. “The guy’s got it made. Sharing a bed with a pretty lady.”

  The smallest of smiles flickered on her lips.

  He wished he had a clearer idea where things stood between him and Charlie. Could she get past seeing him as geeky Lester—damn, why had he told her he’d stalked her?—and get back to seeing him as the tool-belt guy she was attracted to?

  The next morning, LJ arrived at the B&B early, hoping to have some alone time with Charlie, but Joey’s truck was parked outside.

  Romeo greeted him at the door, and in the kitchen he found Charlie and Joey at the table drinking coffee. She was in the purple top, her hair back in a ponytail, and had shadows under her eyes. Not knowing how to make things better, he offered a quiet “Morning” as he walked past her, hands full of doggie stuff, takeout coffee, and a breakfast burrito.

  “Morning.” Her gaze met his briefly, then quickly returned to some colored sketches lying on the table. Joey’d said eagles were wild, free, and strong, and she’d captured that in three quite different ways.

  “You haven’t lost your talent,” he said, looking over her shoulder.

  “Thanks.” Again she glanced up, hazel eyes uncertain.

  He’d settle for uncertain. It was better than distancing him with her tough-girl act.

  After pouring food for Romeo, he sat down with his breakfast. Trying to keep things light, he said to Joey, “You’re really getting a tattoo?”

  “Yeah, but Charlie says we should work on the design, then I should carry it around for a while and, like, live with it.”

  “Good advice.” LJ smiled at her, and her lips quivered in a slight smile, as if she was starting to relax.

  Joey said to Charlie, “Hey, I got an idea. You ever done a snowboard?”

  “A design for a board? No.”

  “I’m totally into boarding. If you painted the eagle on my board, it’d be sweet. Like, I’d fly. And I’d, you know, live with the design for a while.”

  “Hmm…” The sparkle in her eyes said she was intrigued. “Let’s start by talking about the designs I did. Tell me what you like and don’t like. Tell me about eagles, and why they have special meaning for you.”

  As Joey began to talk, LJ noticed Charlie’s spiral-bound sketch pad lying half hidden by one of the drawings. He held it up and shot her a questioning glance.

  She nodded.

  He leafed through as she and Joey talked, turning pages with one hand and eating his burrito with the other, careful not to get crumbs or grease on the pad.

  There was everything from sketches of him and his crew to bold abstracts to soft, swirly, flowery designs. Smiling appreciatively, he had the sense he was being watched and glanced up to find her gaze on him. When he mouthed, “Great,” she gave him her first genuine smile of the morning.

  The front door opened, and Romeo rushed out of the kitchen, then came back with Will, who greeted them and sat at the table. Quietly he studied the eagle drawings as Joey and Charlie resumed their conversation. Then, when LJ was done with the sketchpad, Will began to turn pages.

  Joey and Charlie finished their talk, and LJ said, “Okay, folks, we need to get to work.”

  Will tapped the sketchpad. “Charlie, I’d love to show a few of these to my wife Sandy.”

  “Your wife?”

  “She’s a clothing designer. She works at a boutique in the Village, saving up money to go into business and launch her own line.”

  A grin flashed. “That’s like my plan. To open my own tattoo parlor in Toronto.”

  Shit, thought LJ. She had serious career plans in Toronto. No wonder she was so eager to leave. Was there any hope for him?

  “Sounds like you’ve got lots in common,” Will told her. “Anyhow, your drawings remind me of her designs.”

  “Tell me which ones and I’ll tear them out.”

  After she’d carefully tugged sketches free of the coil binding, Will said, “Thanks. I’ll take good care of them.”

  Charlie rose. “I’m going back to my boring yellow paint. It really hurts, not doing murals.”

  “You should stay and run the place,” Joey said. “You could put way sick stuff on the walls.”

  “Tempting, but I’ll pass.” Her dry tone said that staying was anything but tempting.

  After getting Will and Joey working on kitchen cabinets, LJ followed Charlie to the second floor. She’d stripped down to the turquoise tank and was squatting on the drop cloth in the hall
, pouring paint into the pan.

  She glanced up, expression noncommittal. “Thanks for cleaning this stuff up yesterday. Sorry for my”—her chin came up—“little meltdown.” Finished pouring, she rose, squaring her shoulders. “You should have told me who you were, right from the beginning.”

  Yeah, and have her think of him as a geek from moment one? Defensively, he said, “I recognized you.”

  “You knew I was coming.”

  “I’d have known you anyhow. Guy with a crush? Remember?”

  She twisted her ponytail into a loose knot on top of her head and skewered it with a couple of stick-like things, then stared up at him. “Much as I hate thinking about that night, I have to know. Why did you reject me?”

  Hadn’t she heard him yesterday? “You were upset and just trying to be tough. To get back in control.”

  She grimaced. “Okay. But why would you care?”

  Damn it, she sure had a low opinion of him. “Because I wasn’t a dickhead like your date,” he snapped, stepping closer. “I respected you.”

  “Respected me?” Her dark brows arched.

  “Yeah.”

  Her exotic scent drifted toward him above the odor of paint. It weakened him enough to admit the rest. “And I wanted more. I wanted you to want me.”

  Her face softened.

  “It was hard, Charlie, turning you down. You have no idea how hard.”

  For a long moment, she said nothing. Did nothing. Then she took a step forward, so her hips brushed his. Jeans against jeans—instant arousal underneath his fly.

  She wriggled her hips, and her eyes gleamed teasingly. “I’m getting an idea.”

  He could drop the subject of his teen geekdom, but he wanted her to know the rest. “I was the only guy who really saw you.” He put his arms around her and rested his hands on the sweet swell of her butt. “The Charlie who rescued animals and helped an old man.”

  “That’s”—her lips trembled. “Thank you for seeing that I wasn’t all bad.”

  “I wanted you to see me, too. But you never did.”

  “I’m sorry.”