by Noelle Hart
She held out her hand and they shook. “Kylie Lambert. I don't want to trouble you.”
“No trouble. I'm retired now but in my years with the R.C.M.P. I saw things I wished could have been prevented. Is there someone you'd rather call and have come get you?”
What's the harm, she thought, he was probably right. It was dark and there were plenty of black niches for a vagrant to hide in. Or a rapist.
She nodded her ascent and started the engine, slowly moved the limping truck to the desired spot. The three men were right there when she got out. Locking the truck, she pulled a shawl around her and began walking. The trio fell into step.
At the entrance to the building Brad Humphrey and sons waited until she had called up and gotten buzzed in, then they veered away with a wave. She called out a thank you and stepped inside the lobby, thinking that chivalry was not dead after all.
*
Drew was fuming. He'd set the stage: logs crackling in the fireplace, Nat King Cole crooning on the stereo, a nice Piñot Grigio chilling in an ice bucket. Even a tray of assorted olives, cheeses and crackers.
So where the hell was she? He looked at his watch for the billionth time in less than fifteen minutes and felt his stomach clench. Patience. Get a grip.
He knew how essential it was that he keep calm. Being a little late wasn't going to hurt anything, he reasoned. Not literally. But it wasn't something he could tolerate if it proved to be a habit.
Restless, he paced the floor sipping his scotch. It blazed a trail down his throat, churning the cauldron in his gut. He went out the open patio doors onto the balcony to stare out across the Inner Harbor to where the Parliament Building lights winked in the far distance. The view is what had sold him on this place. And the status it offered.
The entrance to his building was directly below ten floors. Looking down he spotted a woman and three men approaching the covered entryway. Their figures were small but the light pouring out from the lobby illuminated the woman.
It was Kylie.
His heart stumbled in his chest as the buzzer sounded. Briefly moving inside to retrieve the phone he pressed the button to release the lock and then dashed back outside. He was just in time to see the men wave at her and she at them before coming inside.
Caught you!
When she tapped on his door he swung it open with a flourish and couldn't mask his annoyance. Her red lipstick was smeared and he gritted his teeth but said nothing.
Kylie instantly went from excited anticipation to abject tension. Something was wrong. Surely he wasn't irked because she was a few minutes late? Squaring her shoulders she stepped over the threshold. “Sorry for the delay. I had an incident but I'm here now.” Hoping to dispel his obvious surliness she did a little twirl, lowering her shawl. “You like? It's all for you.”
“Your lipstick's smeared.”
Her fingers touched her lips. “Oh, shoot. I have a bad habit of chewing on my lip when confronted with a dilemma. And boy did I...”
“Do you have many? Bad habits?”
He went down the short hallway and into the open concept living area, so she followed, watching the muscles of his back bunch under his shirt.
“None that matter. If you're wondering whether or not I make a habit of being late, the answer's no, I don't. I had a flat tire, that's all.”
He turned, eyes narrowed. “How did you deal with it?”
“My spare's flat too so I left the truck parked down the street. I'll call a service in the morning.”
He tried to be magnanimous. “I'll take care of it.” Then it just spilled out, lame and jealous even to his own ears. “But then a woman like you just has to bat her lashes and as many as three men will come running to her rescue. Isn't that so, Kylie?”
His face was becoming alarmingly flushed. That he'd seen the three men who had come to her rescue from his balcony was obvious, and she didn't want to play this immature game.
She sauntered to the couch and sat, the firelight glowing against her skin. “A woman like me?” came her measured response.
While she tried not to feel intimidated he stood over her and knocked back the rest of his scotch. “I mean a woman who uses her looks to get what she wants.” Recognizing his own peevishness he wished he'd held his tongue, but the words had just spilled out.
Kylie stared hotly. “Really? Maybe you should have some of these crackers to sop up that scotch. It's drowning your ability to reason, Drew. Those men were being gentlemen. They were there when my tire blew and didn't want me to walk the rest of the way by myself.” She kept her tone light and ended on a Cheshire smile, wondering why she had to defend herself.
Drew's puffed up anger deflated. Slowly he lowered himself to sit next to her, his own smile tremulous.
“Drew. You're not that kind of guy are you? You're acting like I'm some kind of hussy trying to use my feminine wiles. Maybe this is a mistake.”
He took her hand with a touch of desperation. “That dress has no back. Christ, I can pretty much see the crack of your ass. And now undoubtedly so have those men. You see where I'm coming from?”
She frowned at the exaggeration. “I used my shawl.” If he got this jumpy over a bare back then what would he do at the beach? She yanked her hand out from under his. “You're overreacting. I'll just go home and we'll...”
“No!” He reined it in. “Please, Kylie. Look, I'm sorry. I'm just nervous.”
He looked wounded and a little lost, the metamorphosis from offended to injured sudden and surprising. He was like those transformer toys, one thing one minute, another the next.
She decided to cut him some slack. “This isn't going so well, is it? How about we rewind? I'd love a glass of that wine.”
He served them both a glass and forced himself to remain light and easy as the conversation moved on to other more mundane things.
Drew knew how to be charming. He poured it on and by their second glass of wine he'd dispelled any traces of his earlier show of temper. The conversation became flirty, the wine relaxing Kylie as he stroked her ego with silken words and then her bare back with equally soft fingertips. Magnetized, Kylie's body drifted closer to his on the couch with its conveniently wide seat cushions. She shivered deliciously, her bones starting to melt as she absorbed his compliments. So much better than the track he'd been on earlier. She chalked it up to nerves and cooed when he planted feathery kisses along her throat.
“Let's go to your bedroom,” she murmured when he took her glass out of her fingers and placed it on the table. And then forgot what she'd said as he issued an all out assault upon her senses, his warm mouth diving into hers, tongues clashing, teeth nipping.
He peeled away his shirt. “I want to feel you naked against me.” His body looked solid and strong as he hovered above her. The black dress joined his pants on the floor and he gazed down at the flimsy wisp of black lace she'd donned for the occasion. “Just for you,” she told him, her eyes glimmering, reflecting his own aroused image in their violet depths.
His roving hands skimmed her warm flesh as a thin sheen of sweat broke out, her breath quickening. Kylie's senses flickered and burned red hot beneath Drew's steady onslaught, and when his fingers probed and delved she rose up and urged him to continue.
Without warning he thrust himself deep inside her. “Wait!” She wasn't ready. They needed protection! His eyes rolled back as he went from low to high gear in an instant, in his own zone and oblivious of her attempt to dislodge him. “Stop!” But he seemed lost in his own pleasure and only gripped her tighter, completely obliterating caution, his body quaking with release.
Drew rolled off of her and lay on his back, sated.
She stared at him, incredulous, her nerve endings tingling with a searing need yet to be satisfied. “I brought condoms, Drew. You didn't hear me telling you to stop?”
He gazed lazily into her eyes. “You're mine,” he said. “I don't like to dull the sensation.”
“But...” Oh God. It had started so w
ell and then just... fizzled. At least for her. The sorriest part is that he seemed quite unaware. Not to mention that she knew nothing of his sexual history. He could be HIV positive for all she knew.
Drew knew he'd rushed it. Yes, he'd heard her plea for him to stop, but when he'd touched her flesh and felt its heat, there it was, stark and demanding, clawing at his mind, a deep and seemingly bottomless well of dark desire that had nothing to do with passion and everything to do with lust. Blood lust. He'd wanted to... no! Not that. Not again. Closing his eyes he'd imagined what he'd wanted to do and it had brought him to an explosive, very premature end.
Turning to face her, he whispered in her ear, “Give me ten minutes and I'll make it up to you.”
Lying in his arms, Kylie knew she couldn't allow that to happen. They hadn't used a condom the first time and she'd be damned if she'd succumb to yet another dangerous round of sex with Drew, the careless.
And she was now Kylie, the frustrated.
When he began to snore softly in her ear, she shimmied out from his loose embrace and gathered her things, her disillusionment both sharp and bittersweet.
* * * *
CHAPTER FOUR
Lyle's hands were shaking. Damn it! What was wrong with him? She's only a woman, he berated himself. So why did he feel like a giant oaf around her? He took a deep, calming breath and let Jolene into the diner. They would be alone at this early hour; he'd told Kim to take a break and come in late.
She breezed in leaving her trademark trail of perfume in her wake, wearing jeans with a t-shirt and requisite slip free rubber soles. Her wild copper curls had been ruthlessly tamed into a knot at the top of her head but a few tendrils had already escaped.
Wordlessly he led her into the kitchen and handed her a white apron and a package with a new hair net. He produced an onion, a tomato and a zucchini and laid them out on the butcher block surface alongside a trio of knives. With a sweep of his hand he indicated that she should cut them up.
Having donned the apron and hair net, Jolene blinked up at him. “Are we doing this with sign language? Because if we are, you're going to have to teach me that too.”
“I want you to dice these vegetables. Although technically tomatoes are fruits. Which knife is the right one for the job?” he quizzed.
She decided to yank his chain and chose the largest of the three. “This one?”
“Wrong. Try again.”
Tongue in cheek, she chose the smallest and raised her eyebrows at him.
“Wrong again. This one.” He picked up the middle knife. “It has a long, thin blade that's perfect for picking out stems as well as dicing. You know what that means, right?”
Jolene took the knife from him with a frown. “I'm not an idiot, Lyle. Dicing means you want little cubes. I've sliced and diced my way through many a meal in my mother's kitchen. I may not know what the names of these knives are but if you tell me exactly how you want these veges cut, I'll deliver. I can angle cut, peel, julienne, and finely chop just about any vegetable you can throw at me. Want this tomato diced? Watch me.”
Deftly she diced the tomato, then switched knives and picked up the onion and got to work. As the fumes rose, tears pricked her eyes and began to stream down her cheeks.
Lyle stopped her in mid chop. “We normally use a food processor but in a crunch I need to know you can do things by hand.” Taking her hands he moved her to the sink where he placed her fingers under a stream of cold water. The stinging in her eyes gradually abated.
Wiping her hands on a towel, Jolene beamed at him. “My first real lesson. Thanks.”
Lyle barely heard her. Soft and nimble, her fingers had felt supple under his and now he couldn't move, couldn't push away from her as she grinned up at him. Surprising himself, he stepped in close and watched her grin shrink as wary anticipation took over.
The air rippled, vibrant and hot. Jolene's body snapped to attention even as her mind muddled. Thoughts vanished, sensations tripped into the vacancy. Her heart did a quick tattoo against her rib cage as Lyle's considerable height and girth took up her entire line of vision.
With surprising grace he gathered her in and crushed her lips with his own, the kiss too hard and too quick before he released her. He began to step back was wasn't quick enough. Jolene rose on her tip-toes and pressed her lips to his with gentle persuasion.
It was like stepping into a fuzzy dream. Pliable and sweet, her lips played over his, her tongue luring his out as she kissed him deeply. Arms circled around his neck, she pressed her entire length against him.
It felt like more.
He didn't know what he'd been expecting but this was definitely heating up too fast. Already both were panting, ready to claw at one another. Stronger willed than her and knowing it, he eased her away to her moan of protest.
All business now, even if his legs felt like water, “Okay, all over. Now we move on.”
“What?” Jolene sputtered. “Just like that? Don't tell me you didn't enjoy that.”
“I enjoyed it alright, I won't lie about that. But it was highly inappropriate of me. So let's forget it happened and get busy here.”
This wasn't happening! She felt herself flush and stared at him in frustration.
Lyle was intensely annoyed with himself. For initiating the kiss. For feeling so damned alive. For being such a boar and handling things so selfishly. He knew she had a thing for him; hell, it was more than obvious. Especially in the way she'd reacted, as though she expected this to go some place. And it couldn't. Not even as far a bedroom.
His response was brisk. “Sorry. My fault entirely.” He raked his sandy mop of hair. “Co-workers shouldn't take up together; it's a recipe for disaster. So let's toss it out and start a new one, alright?”
Frustrated, Jolene pressed her lips together, savoring the lingering taste of what to her seemed like nectar from heaven. She turned her back on him and focused on the cutting board, efficiently dicing the zucchini while staving off unwanted tears.
Her face was averted but Lyle didn't miss the dewiness on her lashes. Not only a boar, but a heel. Gently he turned her to face him and wiped away the single drop that fell onto her cheek with his fingertip. “You see? Already I've hurt you. You understand why this cannot be, don't you?”
“Then why did you kiss me just now?”
He grimaced. “My brain goes to mush around you. Maybe we should re-think this whole thing.”
“Re-think what thing?” It was Kim, too early for work. He had literally sneaked in on them.
Lyle made a quick adjustment. “Kim! Just in time. I was going to show Jolene how to prep the kitchen to my personal standard. Now you can do it.” He tugged off his apron and tossed it in a bin. “Got paperwork upstairs.” He bolted, but not before Jolene branded him with a furious glare. He didn't miss Kim's muttered, “Coward!” either.
Kim heard Jolene mumble something incoherent under her breath.
“Whatever that was,” said Kim, “ditto. The big guy is a walking contradiction. C'mon, let me show you where we keep everything.”
Steering her into the storage room, Kim knew this had been bound to happen. Oh yeah, he'd caught the kiss, so intense for them both that neither had heard him come in. Remaining out of sight until hearing fighting words, he'd intervened just in time to break things up before his boss made an even bigger ass of himself. What had he been trying to prove, that he could be impervious to her? All Kim knew was that if Lyle had it half as bad for Jolene as he himself had it for his own wife, he was a goner.
*
Will chugged off his beer bottle while flipping turkey burgers on his monster stainless steel grill, then stared off into the Olympic mountains across the Juan De Fuca Strait to Port Angeles. The rear patio of his house faced that large expanse of water offering ever changing views depending on Mother Nature's temperament. Today was cloudless and hot, so much so that his beer had already gone warm.
Eileen, cashier and mother goose at the diner, was setting the picnic
table with actual plates, glasses and cutlery. No paper stuff for his backyard barbeques; he was a stickler for perfection when it came to serving food.
Other employees wandered the yard with its flirty summer flower beds. There was Jimmy, their home delivery guy, and there was old-timer Buster who kept the diner ship shape maintenance wise, making goo-goo eyes at Eileen.
Sausages sizzled alongside the burgers. Couldn't be too health conscious or it wouldn't be a party.
The screen door slammed and Lyle charged out of the house armed with two six-packs. He dumped them into a cooler and noisily pushed the cans under the ice, then cracked one and sauntered over to the grill.
“Howdy.”
“Hey.” Will clinked his bottle against Lyle's can. “Here's to the lazy days of summer.”
“I'll drink to that.”
Bluesy jazz drifted up from the garden speakers and a bumble bee droned past to land on a fuchsia blossom nearby.
“Who'd you invite this time?” asked Lyle. It was their custom to bring someone new into their circle at these bi-monthly summer events.
Will pointed with his bottle. “The brunette with the ponytail.”
“How did you meet her?”
“Came in looking for a job. I'm thinking she might work for our Langford location. Name's Lillian McFarley.”
“Isn't it a little early to begin hiring?”
“We open in October, and once summer dies out we'll need to be ready. Besides, she really needs the job. I'm going to have her shadow Jolene in a coupla weeks to see if she's up to snuff. She's never been a waitress before.”
Lyle snorted. “You and your projects. Hope we don't end up with inferior staff.”
Will bit off a comment about Lyle making Jolene sous chef without any formal training. “Gotta start someplace.”
“Yeah. Doesn't hurt she's good looking either, does it?”
As though she'd heard them, Lillian McFarley spun around and made eye contact with Will across the yard. He signaled her to come forward. Slender and leggy, sex appeal oozed out of the woman and while that appealed to Lyle's male senses, it also put him on guard. The little tattoo of a cupid on her left ankle was a probable sign of a woman on a mission.
