Burning Kiss

by Jen Talty

  I slept with my step-sister.

  Well, she was his girlfriend before that and it didn’t matter anyway.

  He raised his trembling hand and knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” his mother’s voice rang out as soft and sweet as he’d remembered. At nine years old, he’d broken his wrist snow skiing on a family vacation. It had been displaced and had to be reset. His mother talked to him through the entire process, telling him stories of her childhood and the crazy things his grandfather used to do.

  He sucked in a deep breath and told himself this would be easier than running into a burning building.

  Right.

  He stepped through door, mentally preparing himself. “Hey, Ma,” he said as she came into view. She was propped up in her bed, a food tray over her legs. Her once long, thick hair had thinned and turned grey. She wasn’t as pale as he thought she’d be, but her frail body sucker punched his ability to take another step.

  She turned her head, raising a small sandwich. Her hand fell to the tray, sending the plate with the rest of the food onto the bed.

  He raced to her side, quickly cleaning up the mess, thankful no liquid had been spilled. He set her food off to the side and sat on the edge of the bed. “Surprise?” He didn’t think his heart could ache more, but seeing his strong, sophisticated mother, in such a vulnerable state drove home how much he’d missed out on during the last ten years.

  She blinked a few times, shaking her head. “Now I’m delusional,” she whispered.

  “No. I’m really here.” He took his mother’s feeble hand in his, rubbing gently.

  “I can’t decide if I should hug your or slap you.”

  “How about both?”

  She raised her arm and patted the side of his cheek. “If you weren’t so damned pretty, I’d really smack you.”

  He leaned in, drawing his mother close, being careful not to hurt her, but she had other things in mind as she nearly crushed him with a hug and slobbered on his cheek with a million pecks like she used to do when he was a small boy and he’d run away trying to brush them of, totally embarrassed she’d done that in front of his friends.

  “You need to shave.” His mother leaned back, folding her arms over her chest.

  “I didn’t have much time this morning. We just landed less than an hour ago.”

  “Claire got you to come home.” Her mother waggled a finger under his nose. “And don’t lie to me. I’m not that fragile, and I’m not dead yet.”

  He swallowed the sob that smacked the back of his throat and willed the tears glossing over his eyes to fade away. “She had something to do with it.”

  “Your father sent her. He doesn’t think I know. He has it in his head that I needed you to come home on your own. But screw that. I’ll take it any way I can. Besides, you and Claire belong together.”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t think you could get any more candid, but you have and you’ve developed a very dry sense of humor.”

  “Losing your son, then your second husband, and now dying, will do that to a woman.”

  “You didn’t lose me,” he mumbled, wondering if she was trying to hurt him, or just being inappropriately honest.

  “Yeah. Actually, I did. After I got the last letter you sent me a year after you’d left, I realized how badly I handled the situation and that you would never forgive me and don’t go saying that just because you think it’s what a dying woman wants to hear because it’s not. I just wanted to see you and have the chance to tell you I’m sorry.”

  “Apology accepted.” He leaned and kissed her cheek. Even in death, she still smelled like roses. “I’m sure I owe you a few.”

  “You owe Claire a lot more.” His mother tilted her head slightly to the left, pursing her lips, giving him that look that dared him to argue with her.

  “We talked.”

  “And?”

  “There is no and. Claire and I were over a long time ago. We’ve both moved on.”

  “Really? Do you have a girlfriend?”

  He opened his mouth but she didn’t let him speak.

  “I bet you don’t and if you lie to me I’ll know it.”

  “I’ve had girlfriends.”

  “But they don’t last, do they. And neither do Claire’s.”

  “I can’t speak for her, but I’m deployed more than I’m home most years, and that doesn’t make for a happy girlfriend.”

  “Because they aren’t right for you. She is and I’m going to get the two of you back together if it’s the last thing I do.”

  “I’m sorry, Ma, but it’s not going to happen. Claire and I talked about it at length.” Okay, a little white lie since they had simply brushed over the topic.

  “Talk is cheap. How long are you here for?”

  “Couple of days. But I’ll come back as often as I can.” Words he hadn’t expected to come out of his mouth, but he meant them.

  “I need you to do me a favor.”

  “Whatever you need,” he said, thankful they were off the Claire topic.

  “While you’re here, take Claire out on a couple of dates. See how—”

  “Mom. Do you really want to start a fight on my first day back in ten years?”

  She straightened her spine, sitting up taller. “No. That’s why you’re just going to take her out. It won’t kill you. If after a few dates, nothing is there, no harm done.”

  Little did his mother know that his heart was already bleeding out.

  “And it will make a dying woman happy.”

  “Fine,” he said a little too quickly, but it put a smile on his mother’s face and he preferred that to a scowl.

  “Good. Now why don’t you go play some golf with your father and we can all have dinner together tonight. Then, you can take Claire out for drinks, or a movie, or maybe a romantic stroll.”

  He kissed his mother’s cheek, helping her fluff her pillow as she shifted lower in the bed. He snagged the food tray and headed for the stairs with a funny tickle across his skin. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, but it certainly was an unwelcoming one.

  When he got to the bottom of the stairs and rounded the corner, he was greeted by Claire and his father.

  “How’d things go?” his father asked.

  “It was interesting. She forgives me but she certainly knows how to play the dying card.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” Claire asked, snapping her hip to the side in an indignant gesture.

  “She knew Dad sent you to get me and her dying wish wasn’t for my forgiveness, but for the two of us to get back together and while I’m here, I’ve been ordered to date you.”

  His father bent over laughing.

  “I don’t see what is so funny,” Hunter said, scowling.

  “Your mother always gets her way.” His father glanced between Hunter and Claire. “And she’s always right.”

  Chapter 6

  Claire smoothed down the front of her miniskirt, doing a one-eighty degree turn in the mirror. Louisa had been kind enough to let her keep some of her things in the bedroom she’d called home between college and her travels with the Peace Corps before getting her own apartment in Bethesda. Since Louisa had gotten sick, Claire had made a point of coming home every weekend and tried to make it home for dinner at least once a week.

  Gathering her hair and holding it behind her head, she contemplated putting it up.

  Hunter preferred it down.

  She reached for a ponytail holder and a clip. Twisting her hair, she pulled it back, leaving a few strands s out to fan her face. Satisfied that Hunter would hate her outfit, and her hair, she left the comfort of her bedroom and made her way downstairs. Dinner would certainly prove to be interesting to say the very least. She knew Louisa would play matchmaker, but what she didn’t count on was Hunter’s willingness to play along.

  Keyword: Play.

  “Don’t you look stunning,” Louisa said, sitting at the head of the table in the dining room. Her IV drip perched next t
o her. Louisa did her best to look as pretty as possible by wearing a little makeup, styling what hair she had left, and wearing designer shawls to cover her comfortable pajamas that didn’t give her bed sores. Most nights she actually ate in her room with Judy, or a staff nurse, or one of her friends that came to visit. But when the family visited, she did her best to make it to the dinner table.

  “She’s always the prettiest girl in the room,” Judy said, sitting to the left of Louisa, Gerry in the seat to the right.

  The table sat ten comfortably and her father had always sat at the opposite end, but no one ever sat there now and the wait staff never set a place setting.

  Claire wasn’t quite sure where to sit. Most dinners included other family members or she usually sat next to Judy, but what if Hunter wanted to be across from his father.

  “This is all wrong,” Louisa said, waving her arms frantically. “Judy, dear. You should be sitting next to your adoring husband so the two lovebirds can play footsie under the table.”

  Swallowing her sarcastic remark, she took her seat, leaving a space between her and Hunter’s mother, while Judy scurried across the room to be by Gerry. If someone had told Claire ten years ago that she’d be forced to date Hunter she would have laughed hysterically at the absurdity of it. She’d loved him back then, so she thought they’d be together forever.

  Now she just wanted to get this over with. She figured maybe three or four dates and they’d be able to say they’d given it the good old college try.

  “Where is the prodigal son?”

  Louisa gasped.

  “I didn’t mean it that way.” But she really had. Her frustration level was at the breaking point. One more cutest couple comment and she’d blow up like the Fourth of July.

  “Are you sure about that?” Hunter’s voice startled her, making her jump.

  She looked over her shoulder. He leaned against the doorjamb sporting a pink button-down shirt, black slacks, and a pair of dark boat shoes. He’d always been the best dressed person in any room. Not to mention the hottest. Girls drooled over him, constantly trying to get him to notice them, but during all the years they dated, he never once turned his head.

  “There he is.” His mother patted the chair next to her. “Judy poured a nice bottle of red. I can’t have any, but if I recall you had your father’s taste for wine.”

  “I still do.” Hunter sauntered across the room, eyeing her with a devilish twinkle.

  She hated that look. It always meant he was up to something.

  “I also still hate your hair like this.” He snagged the clip holding her hair up before tugging at her ponytail.

  “Ouch.” She balked, but he’d always been good at taking her hair out of an up do without pulling the strands out. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

  He tossed her accessories on the hutch on the other side of the room. “You knew I would, which is why you wore your hair that way.”

  Louisa scowled.

  “I wore it that way because I don’t like eating my hair,” she said, trying to diffuse the situation. The last thing she wanted to do was upset his mother.

  He looped his arm over her chair, leaning in, his hot breath warmed her skin. “You just wanted my fingers in it again,” he whispered, but not soft enough because his mother’s frown turned to a smile wider than the state of Texas.

  When Louisa left the table, Claire was going to lay into Hunter. It was one thing to date for her benefit, but it was entirely another thing to turn it into a display that would get her hopes up.

  “Stop it,” she said behind gritted teeth, kicking him under the table.

  He took that as it was okay to pat her thigh.

  She glared at him with a smile. “What’s for dinner tonight?”

  “I had the cook make Hunter’s favorite.” Louisa rang the bell on the table. A little old-fashioned but the staff didn’t seem to mind.

  “Oh, I love blackened salmon,” his father said, raising his glass. “I’d like to make a toast.”

  This should be rich.

  She held her wine up, waiting to down it in one gulp.

  “To family.” He lifted his arm higher.

  “That’s it?” Louisa asked.

  “I think that says it all,” Gerry said.

  “I’ll drink to that.” She didn’t bother to clink with anyone. The red, tart liquid burned as it flowed from her throat to her stomach. She wasn’t even sure if she actually swallowed, much less tasted anything. “I’m ready for another.”

  Everyone at the table stared at her with a perfectly arched brow.

  Thankfully, Hunter filled her glass, though not as high as she would have liked, but really, she needed to slow down and get a grip. It was all just fake dating.

  The courses came and went and the conversation seemed to stay off whether or not she and Hunter were made for each other. She enjoyed listening to Hunter’s tales from his service in the military, though he did say, ‘I can’t talk about that,’ a lot.

  By the time the after-dinner coffee was served, but before desert, it was obvious to everyone that Louisa was exhausted, even though she kept trying to say she was fine.

  “Let’s get you up to bed,” Gerry said.

  “You should be saying that to your current wife, not your ex-wife.”

  He smiled. “As soon as we get you upstairs, I plan on taking her home and to—”

  “Dad,” Hunter said with a scrunched nose.

  Gerry laughed.

  “I’ll help.” Judy rose, helping Louisa to her feet.

  “Goodnight, son.” Louisa hugged Hunter.

  A warmth spread over Claire’s heart seeing Hunter embrace his mother again. She really needed to get a grip and just get with his mother’s program for the week.

  “I’ve had the staff make the bed in the room next to Claire’s. I think you’ll be comfortable there.”

  Claire coughed, burning her lips on the hot coffee she’d just brought to her lips. “That’s a shared bathroom.”

  “I know. I didn’t want the cleaning people to have to deal with another one. This is just easier.” Louisa patted her shoulder. “Stop fighting it dear. Trust me. By the end of the week, you’re going to realize how madly in love you two still are.”

  She opened her mouth, but snapped it shut. Nothing good would come from saying exactly what she was thinking. Leaning across the table, she took the second bottle of wine that had been opened and poured herself a hearty glass. Once Louisa was out of the room, she turned to look at Hunter.

  “I should have left when you shut the cabin door on me.”

  “I would have still come.” He joined her in more vino.

  “Okay, but we wouldn’t have had sex last night, which opened up this crazy can of worms.”

  “My mother doesn’t know we had sex. She’s just—”

  “I do now,” Louisa said, pushing her IV pole through the dining room. “I forgot my cheaters. Can’t see a damn thing without them.”

  Claire dropped her head to the table and groaned.

  “You might as well share a room. I have no issue with that out of wed—”

  “Louisa,” Gerry said, sternly. “Leave them alone.”

  “Good idea.”

  Claire kept her head down, breathing deeply so she didn’t hyperventilate from embarrassment. It was worse than getting caught with her hand in Hunter’s pants when they’d been in high school.

  “Everyone’s gone.” Hunter brushed her hair to the side, tracing his finger across her neck. “I’m sorry, but I thought you’d want to keep the tattoo to yourself.”

  “They’ve all seen it. Made their comments.”

  “So, I just made it all worse.”

  She bolted upright. “It wasn’t just the letting my hair down thing, but you made a sexual innuendo—”

  “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just that it does really make my mother happy and I’ve come to realize I’ve caused her so much pain. I kind of want to make it up to her.”
>
  “I’m glad. Really I am.”

  “Come on. Let’s take this outside and sit by the pool.” He snagged the bottle of red. “We can discuss a plan that will satisfy my mother’s need for us to be together, but with the boundaries we both need.”

  “We’re going to have to fake date until she dies and this goes under the inappropriate category, but I think you coming home might have extended her life indefinitely.”

  He laced his fingers through hers.

  She told herself it was just practice. The only problem with that was how much she liked practicing.

  “We only have to date when I’m home, and I don’t have a lot of leave time. I’m also scheduled to deploy in a month for about six weeks, but I might see if I can get a family medical leave from that and have it postponed.”

  She glanced up at him. “You’d do that for your mother?”

  “I was wrong to cut her out.”

  She plopped herself on a lounge chair, making sure her drink didn’t spill, which was amazing considering now tipsy she was.

  “Why Hunter Jackson, I think you might have grown up.”

  “Don’t tell anyone. I’d like to keep it a secret.” He sat on the foot of the chair, swirling his glass. “We’re going to have to been seen in public, at the club. Are you ready for that?”

  “I’ve already gotten two texts congratulating me on our recent reunion.”

  He shook his head. “I played golf with Eddy and his dad, both asking when the wedding will be.”

  “What have we gotten ourselves into?”

  Chapter 7

  Hunter spent the first night in his mother’s house tossing and turning. Every time he got up to use the bathroom, he hoped he’d run into Claire, but it never happened.

  And he couldn’t bring himself to sneak into her room. Things had gotten too weird. He needed to spend some time alone with her, without the premise of making his mother happy. So, with that in mind, he’d borrowed a buddy’s sailboat and he and Claire would spend the day on the Chesapeake before being put on display at the club during an annual Tuesday evening couple’s night, golf and all.

  “You and boats,” she said as he stepped on the twenty-foot day sailor. “You should have joined the Navy.”