Bastian stepped away from Kaylee, shaking his head. “Is it me, or did the temperature just drop?”
“I’m not ready to deal with my mother, especially not in light of certain--things.” She could feel a muscle beginning to ache at the base of her neck, and she reached up to massage it.
“Here, let me help.” Bastian tossed the dish towel onto the couch. He softly brushed the length of her hair over her shoulder and with one hand began to rhythmically squeeze her neck. He leaned closer and draped his arm around the front of her neck so he could brush her temple with his lips.
“Mmm. That feels wonderful.” Kaylee rolled her head forward, rolling one shoulder first and then another.
“I know you don’t want to think about this, much less talk about it, but you’re going to have to tell your mother at some point.” Bastian used the other hand to massage one of Kaylee’s shoulders.
“I know. I’m just not ready now. Why can’t you understand that?” Kaylee stiffened and side-stepped Bastian’s soothing touch. She pushed the hair away from her face.
“I can. I just don’t want you to make a decision you'll regret, that’s all. I’m going back into the kitchen to finish dinner.” He picked up the dish towel and headed into the kitchen, leaving Kaylee alone.
She remained at the answering machine and thought of her mother. A lump had formed in her throat, and she found it difficult to swallow. How did she tell her? And what would her mother do after? Move in—or worse, move Kaylee into some Swiss clinic where every solution was some kind of an experimental drug.
Lab rat city.
For the first time since the day she’d found out she was sick, Kaylee sat on the couch, held her head in her hands, and wept.
Chapter Seven
As Bastian stood in the kitchen cooking chicken breasts over a portable electric grill, an image of Angie jumped into his head. How many times had Angie worried over his absence? No calls in years. He’d been good at saying goodbye, must’ve been, but then one goodbye could last a lifetime if one wanted things that way.
He’d promised her he’d look after her, that he’d never leave her after their mother had killed herself. He would always be there. He had failed—how he had failed. And where did that leave Angie? How long had she waited for him? Did she still?
She would.
A few drops of butter slid off the chicken and fell onto the burner, sizzling loudly, forcing Bastian to the present. He’d call Angie tonight and let her know he was all right. Satisfied for the moment dinner was underway, Bastian walked into the living room.
Kaylee stood near the bay window, eyeing the endless white drifts. She’d folded her arms across her chest and seemed to be lost in a world of her own. After a moment, he stole behind her, wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and nuzzled her neck.
“Hey, Beautiful.”
Closing her eyes, Kaylee leaned close and rubbed her cheek against his. “I smell something wonderful.”
“Now you say I can cook. Hours ago, you didn’t want me anywhere near your kitchen.” He reached down and laced his fingers between Kaylee’s.
“What do I know?”
“The snow is really coming down.”
Kaylee nodded. “Harder than before. Looks like you may be here awhile, Bastian.”
“Is this a problem?”
“No. Actually, I’d planned on sabotaging your truck, anyway.” She looked down at his hand.
Bastian laughed. “You don’t have to sabotage anything. It only works part-time as it is.”
“I should count myself lucky. If it did work, you’d have been gone by now.”
“Maybe. But I would’ve come back. I might not have known why or when, but I would have. I should check the food.” Bastian stepped back to the kitchen and turned the chicken. Kaylee followed him into the kitchen, carrying the drawing he’d given her.
“If the weather permits,” she said, “I’d like to take you to my art studio tomorrow and give you a tour. Maybe then we could hammer out some details about the classes you’ll be teaching.”
Bastian set both hands on the counter and leaned forward. “Kaylee, I love drawing. I love painting. But I’m not good enough to be a teacher.”
“You’re more than good enough. All my life I’ve wanted to be able to do what you can, but I can’t. The closest I can come is to try to manage a studio I bought a couple of months ago and fill it with students ready to learn from the teacher I haven’t hired yet. I had planned to start interviews next week, but I’ve already found the perfect person for the job—you.” She put the drawing on the counter and rested her head against his arm
“Kaylee—”
“At least think about it. Please.” As he straightened, Kaylee darted in front of him, forcing him to look at her.
“I’m not teacher material. I-I don’t have the skills you’re looking for.”
“You’re stuttering.” She wrapped both arms around him.
“You could make a Boy Scout stutter and a priest swear, lady.”
She pulled him close and kissed his neck. “Were you a Boy Scout?”
Bastian closed his eyes and reveled in her caress. “Yes, ma’am.” One hand stroked her hair.
Kaylee nipped his earlobe.
“Hey, you bit me. Did you draw blood?” Bastian recoiled and touched his earlobe. He looked at his hand.
“No,” Kaylee said, “Besides, you deserved it. You called me ma’am.”
“Yes, ma’am, I did.” He turned back to the grill. “And by the way, ma’am, I should check the chicken.”
Kaylee spotted a dish towel hanging on the stove handle and grabbed it. She twisted and snapped it at Bastian’s rear. Despite the loud pop, Bastian calmly checked the meat.
“Didn’t that hurt?” she asked, twisting the towel again.
He shrugged and set the fork on the plate. “Not especially.” As Kaylee twisted the towel again, Bastian suddenly lunged and caught her wrist, pulling her about to tickle her ribs. She dropped the towel and tried to break free but couldn’t.
“Does that tickle?” he asked, running his fingers over her sides.
“Not especially,” she replied between giggles and gasps. She thrashed back and forth, kicking. At one point, she lost her balance, and Bastian caught her. Still, she continued to struggle, but he supported her so she wouldn’t fall. Her eyes were closed, and she couldn’t stop laughing.
“You can say what you want, Kaylee, but your body is telling me something different. Is there a place you aren’t ticklish?” Bastian was also laughing so hard he almost couldn’t breathe. He stopped running his fingers over her stomach, giving her time to catch her breath. Her back was taut, and he wanted to run his fingers over the whole of her y and explore every part.
“No, there isn’t.” Kaylee’s eyelids fluttered open, and she smiled.
“I’ll keep that in mind. I guess I should check the food before we have to eat charred chicken.” Bastian helped Kaylee regain her balance and squeezed her shoulder.
“That was a fowl thing to say,” Kaylee retorted, brushing the hair from her face.
“I know. Looks like dinner’s about done.” Bastian picked up the fork, prodded the meat, and checked the veggies. The scent of melted butter and sautéed onions filled the air. Picking up one of the plates he’d set out, he placed one chicken breast and a serving of vegetables on it and handed it to Kaylee.
“Your dinner, ma’am.”
“Not funny.” Kaylee took the plate, grabbed a fork, and sat at the table beside two glasses of red wine. Bastian had found it stowed in the back of the refrigerator.
“I thought it was.” Bastian loaded his own plate before sitting next to Kaylee and enjoying a dinner that wasn’t too shabby.
“Why didn’t you look at me when you were at the soup kitchen?” Kaylee asked, dabbing her mouth with her napkin.
“It’s complicated, Kaylee.” Bastian cut his chicken breast into bite-sized portions, purposely averting his gaze.
“You are tenacious, aren’t you?” He unfolded his napkin and spread it over his lap.
Kaylee set her fork on her plate and stared at him. “A bulldog has nothing on me in that department. You were saying?”
“I didn’t want to look at anyone, even the reflection in the mirror. It was bad enough having to be there for a meal, let alone seeing the charity in your eyes.” Bastian cut the bite-sized portions into even smaller pieces and quickly shoved a bite into his mouth.
“That’s not what you would have seen if you'd given me a chance.” She touched his hand.
Bastian stiffened. “Damn it, Kaylee. I didn’t want to give myself a chance. Why in hell would I let you? When you’re down and miserable and hate yourself, you expect everyone around you to look at you the same way. I expected to find charity in your eyes, and regardless of how you would’ve looked at me, I would have found it.” He closed his eyes and thought of the gun, his father’s gun, with its sleek silver barrel, the cold weight heavy in his palm.
“Look at me.” Kaylee brought her hand to his chin and lifted it so his face was level with hers. Still, Bastian gazed downward. “Damn it, I said look at me.”
“Why?” Bastian's gaze travelled from the floor to Kaylee’s face.
“I want to know what you see now.” Kaylee tried to swallow the panic racing in her chest.
“Kaylee—”
”Tell me, Bastian. What do you see.” Her fingers kept him from looking away.
“I see somebody who doesn’t have a clue what she’s getting herself into. Damn it, Kaylee, I don’t know why we’re doing this. Who are we kidding? I’m little more than a stranger.” Bastian clenched his jaw. He threw his napkin on the table and shook his head, leaning back in his chair. He stared at the white linoleum pattern on the floor, counting the squares to take his mind off the conversation.
Kaylee shoved the chair back and strode over to him. “No, you’re not a stranger. I didn’t sleep with a stranger. I slept with you, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I touched your body.” Kaylee ran her hands across his chest, stopping where his heart was been. “But I also touched you here, and that’s what you’re afraid of. You see, if it were only physical, you could wash it away. Hell, by tomorrow morning I’d be history, Bastian. But I touched you in a way you can’t forget, just like you touched me.”
She placed her fingertips under his chin and lifted it so she could stare into his dark eyes. “Now tell me what you see.”
“The most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. You make me want to be more than I am, Kaylee.” He stared into her eyes and moved closer. Their lips met, and he slid his arms around her waist, savoring the welcome scent of her perfume. Bastian held her tightly, the image of the gun seared into the backs of his eyelids. His father had told him once he’d never amount to anything, and Bastian had believed it, but right now, holding Kaylee to him, he wondered if they had both been wrong. How could Kaylee love such a failure? What if there were more to him than either he or his father had seen?
He drew her to him more tightly, determined that if the image of her face wasn’t strong enough to make him forget the past, he would hold her so closely his body couldn’t deny Kaylee was just as real as his need to self-destruct. He wanted to shake the hell out of her for making him want to try again when he knew he was just going to screw up. Whatever the screw-up gene was, he had it in spades.
“Bastian?” Kaylee whispered. “You all right?”
“I’m fine. Maybe we should finish our dinner.” He kissed her shoulder before finally releasing her. His cracking voice sounded odd even in his own ears, and he knew if his behavior defined “fine,” fine wasn’t much short of a nervous breakdown. He took her hand and led her back to her chair. Once she’d sat, he pushed the chair closer to the table.
“You seem distant.” Kaylee stared at him. “And upset. Sure you’re all right?” She drummed her fingers slowly on the table, one by one, watching, waiting.
“Don’t worry. You should eat. The chicken won’t taste very good if it gets cold.” Forcing a smile, Bastian knew he was anything but fine. He focused on his own plate and started eating again, ignoring the way she stared at him.
Reluctantly, Kaylee averted her gaze and picked up her fork. She tried the vegetables, savoring the flavors, but only half so. It was hard to truly enjoy them when she knew she’d just opened a Pandora’s Box with Bastian. Still, she was glad she’d opened it, no matter the consequences.
“The vegetables are wonderful. Maybe you should do this more often. I could get you an apron with your name embroidered on the bib,” she said finally and tried the chicken. A few uncomfortable moments passed silently as they ate. Kaylee fidgeted in her seat, finished her vegetables, and finally spoke.
An unexpected smile flashed across Bastian’s face. “Does that mean you’re planning on keeping me?”
Kaylee looked at her plate. “Well, I don’t know. I’ve got the hots for this new art teacher.”
“I didn’t say I’d take the job.”
“You didn’t say you wouldn’t, either. At least think about it?”
“What choice do I have? If don’t agree, you’ll remind me about it often, right?”
“Mmm-hmm. It’s all part of my wicked plan.” Kaylee picked up her plate and winked at him.
As Kaylee stood and moved to the sink to begin scraping the leftover food into the garbage disposal, the telephone rang. Kaylee stared at her hands and put her plate in the sink. Two rings.
“Aren’t you going to answer?”
Shrugging, Kaylee replied. “Why? It’s just my mother.”
Bastian picked up his own plate. “Yes. She's worried about you, remember?”
“We can’t have that, now can we?” Kaylee sauntered to the phone and picked up the receiver as it rang for the third time. “Hello?” She paused, and Bastian could hear a woman’s voice broadcast from the receiver. “I’m fine, Mother, really.” A lengthy pause. “I’ve had lots of errands to run, and the weather has been somewhat uncooperative. It’s been snowing like crazy, and I’ve been trying to get the studio ready for next week’s opening.” Kaylee carried the cordless to the table and sat. “How’s Paris?” Kaylee rolled her eyes and looked imploringly at Bastian. “Mmm. When will you be home?”
Bastian sat next to Kaylee, and she rested her feet in his lap. Her eyes suddenly widened. “In a couple of days? I thought your business might take longer. I guess I’ll see you soon. Bye.” She rubbed her temples as though a headache had blossomed between them.
“I would try to spare you the horror of meeting my mother so soon, but she’ll be flying home in two days.” Kaylee mashed the button that disconnected the call. She stood, walked to the phone cradle, and replaced the receiver.
“You sound less than thrilled.”
Kaylee folded her arms across her chest. “Just wait until you meet her. You’ll be just as thrilled.”
“She’s your mother, Kaylee. You can’t blame her for missing you.” Bastian walked to the sink and began loading the dishwasher.
“Be that as it may, I’m going to enjoy my next couple days of freedom. Do you want to watch a movie?” While Bastian arranged dishes in the racks, Kaylee stared at the seat of his jeans, drawn tight across his butt.
“Sure.” Bastian poured detergent into the slot, closed the door, and started the machine. He slid his arm around her and gently stroked her back as they left the kitchen.
“The DVD’s are in there. Pick out what you want to watch.” Kaylee pointed to a wooden cabinet to the left. She sat on the couch and drew the afghan around her, liking the feel of it on her bare feet.
Bastian opened the door and scanned the alphabetized selections. After a few moments, he found a romantic comedy that seemed innocuous enough, pulled it out, and slipped it into the player. Then he turned on the big screen TV.
The movie started, and Bastian sat on the couch. Kaylee rested her head in his lap. Snuggling
against him, Kaylee turned toward the television and watched the familiar opening scene to While You Were Sleeping.
Kaylee smiled. “This is one of my favorites. What made you pick it?”
“The Boy Scout handbook stresses the importance of making women laugh.”
Kaylee shook her head. “It doesn’t say anything of the sort.”
“It damned well should,” Bastian retorted. “Maybe if we had an instruction manual for women, we wouldn’t spend so much time in total confusion.” He rubbed his fingers against the arm of the couch.
“Oh, yes, you would. It’s a guy thing.” Kaylee yawned, stretching her arms over her head.
“Really? Well, I’m not confused right now. I know exactly where to touch you to make you squeal.” He trickled his fingertips over her tummy and laughed as she tried to grab his hands. He kept tickling until Kaylee gasped for breath, then he brought his hands to his face, balled them into fists, and pretended to rub his eyes.
“Aww, Kaywee can’t breeff. Pooor Kaywee.”
As she fought to catch her breath, Kaylee balled one of her own hands into a fist and punched Bastian’s abdomen.
“Hey, what was that for? You should be ashamed of yourself, hitting a confused male like that. How do you expect me to figure out how to deal with women? Besides, aren’t you supposed to be watching that?” He pointed at the television.
“So are you.” She grabbed his arm and lowered it to hold his hand. The conversation lapsed, and they watched the movie. Bastian absently stroked her hair.
Closing his eyes, Bastian reveled in the bliss of Kaylee lying in his lap. He encircled her hand and memorized the feel of her fingers against his palm. He thought of her floral perfume and the slightly salty taste of her skin. He remembered the softness of her earlobe when he had nibbled it last, and as he clung to those sensations, he was swept away by the ordinary miracle he’d been offered in Kaylee.
Together they cuddled, watching the movie, until it finally ended. Bastian looked at Kaylee. Her eyes were closed, and her chest rose and fell evenly, suggesting sleep. Her left hand, fingers curled underneath, rested on his knee. Feeling a need to stretch, he stole from beneath her and stood. He laid her head on a pillow and watched as her hair fell like a dark halo around her head, emphasizing her pale skin. Staring into her oval face, he noticed her long, thick eyelashes as they fluttered. Shivering, Kaylee moaned softly. Bastian pulled the afghan to Kaylee’s chin and molded it around her lithe body. Glancing at the clock, he realized it was almost 10 p.m., and he walked to the kitchen where he sat at the table and eyed the telephone.
When Angels Cry Page 8
