Just One Kiss

by Isabel Sharpe

  “Jack’s coming. Seth has a lesson. Demi…” Bonnie rolled her eyes and poured scouring powder into the sink. “Who knows. Cookies still not cooperating?”

  “Spongy. Crumb not delicate enough. I’m liking the rosemary-lemon flavor, though.”

  “Let me try. I bet they’re fine.” She peeled off her manicure-saving yellow rubber gloves, which clashed spectacularly with her sheer violet top, and made a beeline for the plate, grabbed a Madeleine and took a bite. Chewed thoughtfully. “Oh, how spongy, and what an indelicate crumb.”

  Angela snorted. “Uh-huh.”

  “I’m not wild about the rosemary in there, but the texture doesn’t bother me.” She finished the cookie and took another. “You’re too picky.”

  “If I’m going to compete…”

  “I know, I know, you want the glamor-bakery. Well, keep trying. You’ll get it. I’m sure the five hundred and seventy-seventh recipe will be better.”

  “Only three hundred forty-five to go.” Angela made a face. “I’ll go get the cleaning stuff.”

  She went into the back room, a bedroom whose closet the group had taken over for supplies, and pulled out spray cleaner and a sponge, absently tossing her bakery apron on the bed. The group picked one Sunday evening a month to get together and clean the common room, since doing it on a rotating basis hadn’t worked out. Someone was always busy on his or her day.

  “So…” Back in the kitchen, Bonnie was still going at the sink, again wearing the horrible gloves. “I have not yet gotten the detailed report on The Man Who Cannot Date.”

  “I came by your place last night and you’d gone out.”

  “Oh. Yeah.” Bonnie’s voice turned ultracasual. “Seth and I went out for a drink.”

  Angela sighed. She didn’t know whether to strangle Seth, Bonnie or both. Why did Bonnie keep doing this to herself? Could denial run that deep or was she simply a masochist? “Fun time?”

  “Sure. He’s always fun. So did you get Daniel to change his mind?”

  “I don’t know.” Angela found herself scrubbing the same spot over and over, a spot that hadn’t been that dirty in the first place. “I just…don’t know.”

  “Well, that’s not too helpful. What happened?”

  “Pretty much everything went wrong. At the same time, it all managed to go right. I think.” She pushed back a lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail. “I still don’t know what I’m going to—”

  “Excuse me.” Bonnie held up a rubbery yellow hand. “Details first. Analysis later.”

  Angela told her the story of the multiple-disaster evening, laughing at how horrible it all sounded, but not able to quell the deep longing she’d been feeling every day since Thursday, whenever she thought of that time with Daniel. Longing for what exactly? Certainly for another chance to see him, another chance to seduce him. But Angela wished she could say the longing stopped there, where it was supposed to.

  Granted, Daniel was the first guy she’d pushed past her fear to go out with, so she was undoubtedly giving him more importance than he deserved, and probably clinging too tightly to hope that something would come from it, even knowing dating could be a long bumpy road and it was seriously unlikely she’d land smoothly on her first try.

  At the same time, while their kisses had been unbearably full of desire and passion, there had also been moments of pure sweetness, and tenderness so deep it bordered on pain.

  Which was the best reason to want more, and the best reason to stay away.

  “Uh, Angela?” Bonnie’s voice was full of laughter. “I’m pretty sure that spot is clean.”

  “Oh.” She looked down guiltily. Again, she’d picked out one place on the counter to rid of every possible germ, bacteria, speck of dust and probably the top layer of tile.

  “I take it we’re a little distracted.”

  “A little.”

  “He sounds fabulous, Angela.” Bonnie patted her heart, gloves making a wet spot on her blouse. “I totally think you’re on the—”

  “Hey, sorry I’m late, what should I do?” Jack strode into the room, looking incredibly hot, as usual, in jeans and a white Panic at the Disco T-shirt.

  “Fridge.” Bonnie tossed him a sponge. “There’s scary stuff in there. Late person gets that pleasure.”

  “Oh, goody.” He squeezed Angela’s shoulder as he went past. “Hey, babe, haven’t seen you in a few days.”

  “Ms. Angela had her date on Thursday,” Bonnie announced.

  “Hey, that’s right.” Jack turned back and looked at her measuringly, dark hair rumpled in an endearing imitation of bedhead. “How was it?”

  “Got time?”

  He opened the refrigerator door and shuddered. “As long as this horror takes.”

  Angela recounted the story while Jack dove in to the job, quiet except for a few exclamations of disgust that escaped him when he opened a particularly noxious container.

  “Wait.” Jack turned questioningly. “He stopped the kissing?”

  Angela nodded. She’d once seen a cyclist hit by a suddenly opened car door, and would never forget the look on his face: fear, pain and what-the-hell-just-happened astonishment. When Daniel pulled away in the drippy shop doorway, she’d undoubtedly been wearing the same stunned expression.

  “Hmm.” Jack gave a thoughtful nod. “Then he might be telling the truth about holding back and why. If he’d been trying to get laid, he would have kept at you.”

  “See?” Bonnie snapped off her gloves. “Some men are actually good people.”

  “Uh-huh. And not speaking of which—” Jack wiped down a section of the refrigerator shelf “—where did you and Seth go off to last night?”

  The forced cheer was back on Bonnie’s face. “Oh, we went out. Had a few drinks.”

  “You were back late.” He recoiled from something spilled and held up his fingers. “Paper towel here? Maybe two?”

  “What, do I have a curfew?” Bonnie threw him the whole roll.

  “No.” Jack tore off a towel and wiped his hands. “I’m watching out for you.”

  “I don’t need—”

  “Hey.” Angela put her hand on Bonnie’s shoulder, which felt startlingly thin. “I’ve been worrying about you, too. Seth is a terrific guy. A really terrific guy. But you deserve someone so much more—”

  “I know, I know.” Her voice rose with her emotion and she made a visible effort to relax. “Believe me, I know. You don’t have to tell me. Nothing is going on, and nothing is going to go on. I’m over that, not going back.”

  Jack exchanged glances with Angela. “So what’s been going on with the woman he’s been hanging around with—Alexandra?”

  Bonnie shrugged as if she couldn’t care less, which neither of them believed. “He says nothing.”

  “You don’t believe him,” Angela said.

  Bonnie stayed still. “I…don’t know.”

  “Don’t you see, Bonnie?” Angela tried to keep her voice calm. “You can’t even trust him to tell you the truth.”

  “I know. I know, I know, I know, I know.” She hurled the gloves down on the counter. “It sucks, I suck.”

  “If you want to fight dirty…” Jack sniffed cautiously at a carton of milk, and put it back into the refrigerator in obvious relief. “We could use my idea.”

  “I always want to fight dirty.” Bonnie jammed her hands on her hips, close to tears. “What’s your idea?”

  “The picture I want to take of you, wearing only flowers. It probably won’t change anything but it would sure piss him off.”

  “No, no. That’s not the way to handle this. You have power in other ways, Bonnie.” Angela tried to keep the frustration out of her voice. “You’re hot, you’re beautiful, you’re fun as hell. Men will be clawing at each other to get to you.”

  “Yeah, the line outside every day is overwhelming.”

  “You haven’t tried.” Angela glanced at Jack for support, but he was shaking his head. “Get out there and date someone else. I’
m doing it.”

  “Uh. You went out once with a guy you’re trying to trick into sleeping with you. How is that worse than leaving a photograph around?”

  Angela’s mouth opened for a retort, which didn’t come. Seducing Daniel was the plan. That hadn’t changed. So why did she feel as if she had to contradict Bonnie? “It’s different.”

  “Tell me.” Bonnie confronted Angela gravely. “If you thought dangling a picture of you mostly naked in front of Daniel would help your seduction effort, would you do it?”

  Angela laughed. She didn’t even have to think about that one. Of course not. She didn’t need to play games like that, would never dangle herself naked to get a man jealous or coming after her. She’d just…

  An image came to mind, of Daniel looking at a picture of her, naked except for carefully placed petals that didn’t conceal much. His eyes were dark with lust, his pants bulged, his breathing was high and fast. She imagined him wanting her with such force that he threw down the picture and jumped into his car to get to her faster than his bike would take him. That he’d fling open the door to the bakery, turn her Open sign to Closed, vault over the counter and drag her into the back room.

  “Well?” Bonnie demanded. “Wouldn’t you do it?”

  “No, but—” To her horror her voice thickened. “Daniel isn’t. I’m not— He’s…”

  She gave up.

  Bonnie’s jaw dropped. “Oh, my God. You’re falling for him.”

  “Uh-oh.” Jack wasn’t talking about something in the refrigerator that time.

  “Ha!” Angela’s shout came out in a froggy croak. “That’s ridiculous. We had one date.”

  “That’s all it takes. Jack, do we need an intervention here?”

  “Hmm, don’t think so. Except on this cheese.” He tossed a moldy brick into the trash. “Is he falling for you? Sounds to me like he might be.”

  Angela desperately pushed the thought away. “We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about Bonnie. And Seth. I don’t want him to be able to hurt her anymore.”

  “I don’t want this guy to hurt you, either.” Bonnie looked into Angela’s eyes, her green gaze compelling. “Can he?”

  Yes.

  Immediately Angela started to panic. No. This was crazy. After one date? Daniel couldn’t mean anything more to her than a reawakening of her desire to be part of a couple again. The danger was in romanticizing their encounter, romanticizing the fact that he was sweet to her and had kissed her. Tom had been sweet, he’d kissed her, Angela had labeled it love, and look how wrong she was then? Love took time. Love took intense work and a thorough understanding of each person’s needs and how they interacted.

  “I’m waiting…” Bonnie tapped her foot impatiently, but her eyes held only concern.

  Angela threw up her hands. “I’m not—”

  “Hi, sorry I’m late. I had an appointment go overtime.” Demi came into the room, stopping when Angela and Bonnie both turned to stare blankly.

  Her face fell. “Should I come back later?”

  “No, no, not at all.” Angela smiled warmly. “We’re just discussing man trouble.”

  “Ah.” She nodded a few times, looking back and forth between Bonnie, Jack and Angela. “Anything I can do?”

  “Probably not.” Bonnie spoke briskly. “Unless you can figure out a way to turn them into women.”

  “Don’t think I can do that. I’ll vacuum, though.” She marched to the closet, took out the vacuum and disappeared into one of the back bedrooms.

  Bonnie shook her head. “So sweet of her to be concerned.”

  “Now now,” Angela said. “She probably thought it wasn’t her business.”

  “Yeah, I guess it’s not.” She reached into the refrigerator over Jack’s head and pulled out a Diet Coke. From the back bedroom the roar of the vacuum started. “You still haven’t answered my question, Angela.”

  “What question was that, Bonnie?” She didn’t want to answer any more questions about Daniel. She didn’t even want to think about him anymore. Thinking about him only led to confusion and uncertainty, and given that Angela was only just emerging from three years of that, she wasn’t anxious to return.

  The vacuum noise stopped. Demi appeared in the sudden peace, holding out a cell phone with a familiar ring tone. “Angela, you left your cell in the back room in your apron. Looks like it’s someone named Daniel.”

  * * *

  DANIEL TOSSED his cell onto his bed. He’d call Angela later. Right now was not a good time, because…

  Because…

  Sighing, he resolutely picked up the cell again. Yesterday hadn’t been a good time, either. Or the day before.

  He’d say he was calling to discuss the catering situation at Slatewood, which was true. Or mostly true. No other subject needed to come up if it didn’t seem right. Though he didn’t feel so much that he was betraying Kate by calling. He just felt…

  Really nervous.

  For God’s sake, had he become that much of a wimp that he couldn’t call an attractive woman to discuss business? He had no problem talking firewalls and anti-virus programs, phishing and password strength with the few desirable women he encountered in his job.

  But Angela wasn’t just another desirable woman. She’d turned on in Daniel a nearly obsessive fascination that hadn’t been activated since he’d met Kate back in his sophomore year of high school. He’d been standing outside a gas-station food store, smoking the cigarettes he didn’t enjoy that much, working up the nerve to go inside and steal something to eat. He could still remember the chill of the Chicago air, the pungent smell of gasoline, the way everyone had seemed to be staring suspiciously. He had plenty of money in his wallet, but the guys he hung with all smoked and stole, and he’d been in a frenzy to prove to them and his parents that he was someone to be reckoned with.

  Sounded pathetic now, but it had made perfect sense to his hurting, angry young self. He’d been about to go inside the store when a girl had come along. A woman, really, even at sixteen. Blond, with the straight, practical bob she’d wear her whole life, wearing jeans topped by a hot pink sweater that brought out the color in her cheeks and set off her blue eyes.

  Daniel had felt immediately awkward and guilty, even though he hadn’t done anything yet.

  She’d stopped, frowning at him, jammed her hands on her hips. “You think smoking makes you look cool, but it doesn’t. It’s stupid.”

  He’d sneered at her, shame burning his cheeks a brighter color than her sweater.

  “You’d be cuter without it.” She’d tilted her head, eyeing him appraisingly, then nodded as if she’d figured out everything about him and probably the universe as well. “Much cuter.”

  Daniel had been stunned. Cute? Him? The Invisible Kid? He’d really looked into her eyes then, and boom, in a hit-by-Cupid’s-arrow moment, he’d fallen for her the way only sixteen-year-old naiveté makes possible.

  “I’m Kate. I go to Highland Park High, too.” She’d held out her hand for a shake. He’d been paralyzed by indecision, as conscious of his tough-guy image as he was of the strong desire to feel her skin against his palm.

  “Fine. Whatever.” She’d swept past him into the store, muttered, “Jerk.” Daniel had been so flustered his cigarette, the last he’d ever smoked, had fallen out of his mouth and left a burn mark on his shoelace.

  The encounter with Kate had been all his shaky confidence needed to turn tail and flee the potential crime scene.

  The next day Daniel had looked for her at school, found her—of course she’d wanted him to—apologized, and clamped onto her like a lifeline. After that he’d spent more time at her house—ordered, neat, full of homemade cookies, family game nights and more laughter than he’d ever heard—than at his cold chaotic one, filled with angry silences, frozen dinners, stomping feet and hurled insults.

  Daniel wasn’t looking for rescue from his life now. If Kate hadn’t found him, he might have self-destructed. Without Angela he’d still be
himself. Just…lonely again.

  He dialed the number for A Taste for All Pleasures—the phone rang, clicked, then rang again, as if the call had been forwarded. To her cell?

  Another ring. Another. He was nearly ready to give up, when she answered.

  “Hi. Daniel. Hi.” She sounded breathless and surprised and pleased and unbelievably sexy.

  “Hi, Angela.” He turned in his bedroom and got a glimpse of himself in the mirror over his dresser, grinning like an idiot. For crying out loud. “How are you? How’s your knee?”

  “Fine. Really fine. I’ve managed to stay upright and nothing has burst into flames around me. It is raining again, though.”

  “It’s Seattle. Rain happens.”

  “Sometimes that can be nice.” Her tone changed, bringing to mind what had gone on between them during the storm Thursday night. A quick sigh came over the line and he hoped she was thinking the same thing.

  But this was a business call. “I spoke to my boss about you on Friday.”

  “Oh?” She was cautiously hopeful. He found himself hating to disappoint her, flashing back to Kate, who when he’d failed on some mission, anything from asking for a raise to buying a certain kind of bread, had acted as if she were disappointed to discover he was human. He wasn’t sure how Angela would react.

  “I mentioned your international pastries.”

  “Ye-e-s?”

  He rubbed his forehead. This was not easy. “I have to be honest. He wasn’t enthusiastic. His niece has a French bakery that—”

  “Oh, right. You warned me. What place is hers?”

  Her nonchalance surprised him. “Nell’s on Fourth Avenue.”

  “Oh, yes, I’ve heard of it. I’ll have to go check her out, see what she’s doing.”

  “Yes. Sure. Good.” He frowned in confusion, having braced himself to offer sympathy and apology to a woman who didn’t seem to need either.

  “So what was your sense, is all hope lost?” She didn’t sound cheerful, but certainly not despondent. Daniel didn’t get the slightest sense that she was about to demand he try again, or pitch a fit at what she’d perceived as his failure. Most of the time Daniel respected the perfectionism that drove Kate, but on those occasions he’d learned it was best to roll his eyes and wait for her to calm down.