Keeping Kennedy

by Debra Webb

  “Climb onto my back,” he ordered.

  “I can’t do that.” He had to be joking.

  “Dammit, Kennedy, get on my back and I’ll climb down.”

  She started to protest but his look stopped her. “Fine.” She edged closer to him. “What do I do first?”

  “Put your arms around my neck and then wrap your legs around my waist.”

  Kennedy’s mouth gaped in disbelief.

  “Do it,” he snapped.

  After the third attempt, she finally slung one leg around him, then grabbed him around the neck before looping her other leg around his waist. Her cheeks burned red-hot with embarrassment.

  “Now,” he said as he positioned himself for their descent, “hang on.”

  His concern with the limbs being able to hold them suddenly rang in her ears. “What if we break a branch?”

  “Then we’re screwed.”

  Survival instincts kicking in, Kennedy clung to him as if he were the only thing that stood between her and certain death. With one last fleeting look at the ground below, she decided that maybe he was.

  ~*~

  “A barmaid,” Kennedy huffed again. “I cannot believe the audacity of that woman! Obviously she selects characters the same way she designs scavenger hunts—without the slightest consideration for taste.”

  Drake trudged up the stairs. His wet, mud-splattered clothes had partially dried, and were growing stiffer by the moment. Between the precarious climb down the tree and Kennedy’s constant complaining, he had just about had his fill of fun today. How could a woman as savvy and smart as Kennedy be such a wimp surrounded by a few trees and a little mud?

  “Cassandra lives to make me miserable,” she grumbled.

  “Give it a rest, Kennedy,” Drake said impatiently. “Don’t let her get the best of you. You’ll make a great barmaid.” The memory of the long, toned legs he had seen this morning when Kennedy had been wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt ricocheted through his mind. Oh, yeah, she would make a hell of a barmaid.

  Kennedy paused long enough to wave her arms magnanimously. “You would say that,” she all but shouted. “You get to be a pirate.”

  He summoned the last of his patience. Irritation was quickly filling the remaining void. “You know what, Kennedy? I’m going to take a shower. I don’t care about being the pirate. I only care that I get a shower now. And since taking that little swim and hauling your” he held up his hand to halt anything she might say until he composed himself “butt down from that tree was a favor I did for you, I would appreciate it if you would just allow me some peace and quiet.”

  Before she could respond, he turned sharply and continued toward the bathroom. No one, no one, ever pushed him this close to the edge. Why did he let Kennedy get to him like this? The woman was driving him crazy in more ways than one. And he seemed completely incapable of regaining his footing where she was concerned.

  To make matters worse, she followed him into the bathroom despite his pointed request. Beyond caring, he jerked at the buttons of his shirt.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured contritely. “I do appreciate everything you did today.”

  He glowered at her. She moistened those damned tempting lips and lowered her head a bit, making him feel like a class-A jerk.

  “It’s just that Cassandra always somehow managed to make me feel inadequate.” She shrugged, and Drake’s gaze followed the movement, then fell to the breasts outlined by her still damp T-shirt.

  “I guess I haven’t outgrown the immature need to prove I’m good enough.”

  Why did she have to look so vulnerable, all soft and needy? Her hair was disheveled in a very appealing way, as was the rest of her. The look was totally out of character for Kennedy Malone. This Kennedy was still a girl who desperately needed acceptance. This was a glimpse of the woman who searched for firm ground when outside her own world, who still needed someone to support her.

  With all his heart, he wanted to be the one to protect her, to make her feel safe. She didn’t pull away when he reached for her. He entwined the fingers of his left hand with hers, then lifted her chin with is right. For one long moment, he simply looked at her. Kennedy was a beautiful woman. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why he just recently noticed that indisputable fact.

  “Everything is going to be fine,” he murmured. He stroked her cheek soothingly with the pad of his thumb. He smiled at the streak of mud which had dried there. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

  A tremulous smile came to her lips. “I apologize for being such a pain today.” She shrugged again. “I’m not usually so…”

  “Helpless,” Drake suggested, his fingers tightening around hers, that uncharacteristic vulnerability drawing on his every male instinct. She licked those full lips one more time and nodded hesitantly. Want welled in him so fast that no power on earth could have stopped him from kissing her. She tasted soft, warm and unbelievably sweet. She sighed against his lips and Drake instantly felt off balance. His fingers threaded into her silky hair and pulled her closer, forcing her to surrender completely to his kiss. Fire roared through him, urging him to press his body against hers. He released her hand and found the soft swell of her bottom. A groan of pleasure rumbled in his chest as her body melted fully with his.

  She touched his chest hesitantly. He groaned. God, he was out of control. How could a mere kiss affect him so? He touched her lips with his tongue and she opened for him, the move tentative. He indulged his want, tasted her thoroughly, teasing, testing. He wanted to touch her breast. His knees went weak before the thought could evolve into action. Touching Kennedy, tasting her, was killing him. His arousal grew harder by the second. Kissing her would never be enough.

  She whimpered when his palm closed over her breast. He could feel the tightly budded nipple beneath the fabric of her thin T-shirt and bra.

  “Drake,” she murmured on a sharply indrawn breath. Her eyes were closed tight, her expression intent.

  He squeezed her breast as he simultaneously pressed her hips harder into his erection. He nipped her lower lip as he’d longed to last night, then trailed a line of kisses along the curve of her jaw.

  “What are you doing to me?” she whispered breathlessly. “I can’t catch my breath. I’m burning up.”

  “Me too, baby,” he murmured against her satiny skin. God he wanted her, wanted her now. He flicked her earlobe with his tongue. “I want you.” He squeezed her bottom, urging her closer still.

  She made a little started gasp. “What are you doing?” she demanded again, her voice thick with her own desire.

  He stopped. His hands went to her waist and set her slightly away from him. Her lids fluttered open, revealing glazed eyes and pupils wide with desire. Her lips were swollen from his kisses. Her skin flushed from the heat that had blazed between them. But he had to stop. Something wasn’t right.

  “Kennedy,” he rasped, his voice strained.

  She finally focused on him, her body still languid in his hold. “Yes?”

  Drake swallowed. Hard. “Who was your last lover?”

  She blinked, breaking the spell. “What?” She backed up a step, drawing away from his hold.

  “When was the last time you made love?” he pressed.

  She plowed her fingers through her hair with shaky hands. “That is none of your business.” Another step appeared between them as she folded her arms protectively over her chest. “My sex life is private.”

  Reality crashed down around Drake. He swore under his breath. He had almost seduced a virgin. He had noticed her seeming inexperience the first time they kissed. He glanced at her, then looked away. She was a friend. She trusted him. She was vulnerable right now. Hell, she was damned virgin. And he had…Damn and double damn. How was a nearly thirty-year-old woman still a virgin this day and time?

  “What’s wrong with you?” she demanded hotly. “So you kissed me. I’ll get over it. It’s not like I’ve never been kissed.”

>   Oh, but she hadn’t, Drake thought grimly. Not like that anyway. He hadn’t kissed her just for the kiss; he wanted more. His gaze settled heavily onto her suddenly hesitant one. A whole lot more.

  Chapter Five

  “Go away.” Kennedy relaxed lower into the bathwater’s hot embrace and dared whoever was at the door to disturb her. She had showered after the scavenger hunt, but tonight’s bath was for pure, bubbly pleasure—uninterrupted pleasure. She did not want to talk—to anyone.

  The knock came again, defying her wishful thinking.

  Kennedy shivered in spite of the heat enveloping her. The memory of the man’s kiss loomed large in her mind and sent a zing of desire through her. No one had ever kissed her like that. There must be something wrong with her to react so violently to Drake’s kiss. The man was—

  “She says it’s urgent,” Drake announced.

  An urgent call? From Veronica? Kennedy frowned, but refused to open her eyes. If that Cassandra was up to something again…

  “I’ll call her back,” she insisted. No way was she moving one inch for anything related to this blasted reunion. The whole event was insane. She was insane. Kissing Drake was insane. Telling him that she was on fire. Kennedy’s face flamed even now with the memory.

  The sound of the door opening made her eyes pop open and her head snap up. Drake strode toward her, the phone clutched in one hand and an impatient scowl etched across his handsome face. She immediately clasped her arms around her bent knees and tried to hide herself. Water sloshed and bubbles wobbled around her like Jell-O.

  “What are you doing?” Kennedy hissed in a low voice so that Veronica wouldn’t hear.

  Drake’s gaze slowly inspected her haphazardly pinned up hair, roved down her naked shoulders, then slid back up to her face. “I’m not your answering service.” He thrust the phone at her, those long fingers curled around the receiver as they had been around her hand just a few hours ago in this very room. Those firm lips that still tormented her thoughts were set in an irritated line.

  Kennedy produced a smile and held out her hand. She wasn’t about to reach up. He placed the receiver in her palm, his gaze holding hers for one long beat before he turned away. In that tiny space of time Kennedy saw desire flicker in those silvery depths before he turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

  Three years. Kennedy and Drake had skirted this delicate issue for all that time. Now it was alive with electricity literally crackling between them. The first time he had kissed her, it had been for the spin. But today…it was different. That kiss had been about need, raw lust. Kennedy forced her breathing to calm. Something was happening between them. Something unlike anything she had ever experienced. Unlike Drake she was new at this intense stuff. And, unfortunately, he had recognized that little fact. Never let the enemy know your secrets unless it will somehow prove beneficial to you. She knew that rule better than anyone. No benefit readily came to mind in Drake knowing that she was inexperienced.

  “Kennedy! Are you there?”

  She stared at the receiver in her hand, shook off the confusing thoughts of him. She had to remember that they were friends. Nothing more. “Yeah, Veronica, I’m here.” Kennedy eased back against the tub’s porcelain surface and listened as her friend alternated between shouting and whispering on the other end of the line. The kissing bandit had struck again. This time Mrs. Medford from down at the drugstore had gotten an unexpected smooch while locking up just an hour ago. Kennedy’s curiosity edged up a couple of notches. Who could be playing this bandit? And why had he resurfaced after all these years?

  “And that’s not all,” Veronica continued, whispering again. “I saved the juiciest gossip for last.”

  “Well, don’t keep me in suspense.” Kennedy lifted her foot to catch a drop of hot water as it fell down the faucet. She doubted any local gossip would appeal to her, but she loved Veronica so she listened.

  “Cassandra caught Larry in a clinch with little Jessica’s hot-to-trot dance teacher. Cassandra is fit to be tied.”

  “What?” Kennedy sat straight up, her complete attention now focused on Veronica’s excited voice. Water sloshed, creating a mini tidal wave. “When did this happen?”

  “This afternoon! Larry had gone to pick up Jessica, but Cassandra didn’t know it. When she stopped by the studio, Jessica and some other little girls were practicing their pirouettes while Larry and the teacher were in the office warming up for the horizontal mambo. Cassandra caught them! They were wrapped in each other’s arms like lights around a Christmas tree.”

  A frown drew Kennedy’s lips downward. “What happened then?” Considering Cassandra’s nasty temper, Kennedy wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  “Well,” Veronica went on in a hushed tone, “the word I got was that Cassandra simply smiled and told him not to bother coming home. Then she walked right out and took her daughter home like nothing had happened.”

  Kennedy blinked, confused at her own reaction. The anticipated thrill didn’t come. She had disliked Cassandra for so very long, plotted revenge dozens of times in the back of her mind, but the reality of the hurt this incident could cause gave Kennedy no pleasure at all. The Hawthorne children would be the ones to suffer now. Cassandra would get over her humiliation, but those kids needed both their father and their mother, witch though the latter might be.

  “Isn’t that wild?”

  “Yeah.” Kennedy let go a heavy breath. “Very wild.”

  “Since you’ve been gone, you probably don’t know this, things have been on pretty shaky ground for those two the last couple of years.”

  Kennedy rubbed at the tension coiling in her neck. “No, I didn’t know that.”

  “Well, I just had to call and tell you, girlfriend. But I gotta go now. My husband is stalking around the kitchen wanting to know what’s for dessert.”

  After a quick goodbye, Kennedy depressed the talk button and ended the call. She tossed the receiver onto the rug near the tub and decided there was no point in trying to relax now. Veronica’s call had her totally wired. She pushed to her feet and reached for the towel. As she dried her skin, Kennedy considered the possible reasons why Larry had done such a thing. After all, he was a grown man, with children and responsibilities. Granted, Cassandra could be a cold-blooded bitch at times, but she was undeniably beautiful and a decent person in most ways. Kennedy pulled on her old pink robe. Even if Cassandra had stolen Larry from her all those years ago, the woman didn’t deserve this now. Not with kids involved.

  A soft rap echoed from the door.

  Kennedy glowered at the white painted surface. “I don’t know why you’d bother knocking now, Drake.”

  A feminine giggle sounded next, Kennedy cringed.

  “You have company, sweetpea,” Brenda said through the still closed door.

  Company?

  “Who?” Kennedy pulled a couple of pins from her hair. Veronica hadn’t been off the phone long enough to have driven over here.

  “It’s Larry, honey. He seems distraught. He said he really needs to talk to you.”

  Kennedy’s eyes rounded in disbelief. Larry? “Larry Hawthorne?” she asked before she thought.

  Brenda chuckled softly. “Well, of course, sweetpea. Do you know another Larry in Friendly Corners?”

  Jerking impatiently at her hair, pins flying, Kennedy surveyed her reflection. She looked a mess. “Keep him company, Mom. I’ll be right down.”

  “No hurry, dear, Drake is entertaining him.”

  Drake. Oh, no. Kennedy had to hurry. Though she couldn’t quite pinpoint exactly how she knew, but something about the expression on Drake’s face whenever Larry was around or his name was mentioned told Kennedy that he did not like the man. Left alone too long, there was no telling what might happen. Drake might blow their cover.

  That thought shot Kennedy’s stress level to new heights. She slapped on a little foundation and blush and dragged a brush through her hair and hurried to her bedroom. Kennedy stall
ed before her walk-in closet. Why would Larry come to her when his wife kicked him out? Could their seeing each after all this time have—no way! She quickly pulled on some clothes. Whatever he had come for, it had nothing to do with the past.

  ~*~

  Drake gritted his teeth as Larry Hawthorne studied a portrait of Kennedy at about age thirteen hanging over the mantle in the Malone living room. If that guy made one comment about how beautiful she was or how angelic she looked, Drake planned to…

  To what? Was that jealousy he felt? He shook his head in denial. Couldn’t be. He didn’t do jealous. Besides, Kennedy wasn’t really his fiancé. She was a friend. Except friends didn’t kiss the way they had kissed just a little while ago. And a friend certainly wasn’t supposed to get a raging erection from merely seeing a friend in the tub. Drake swallowed the knot that rose in his throat, even now when he thought of Kennedy and all that silky skin, bubbles slipping down those delicate shoulders he wanted her.

  Drake silently cursed himself, then the jerk drooling over her picture. Kennedy was completely inexperienced. No one, not him or Mr. Ex-football star, was going to take advantage of her.

  “Larry, hey,” Kennedy said as she breezed into the room. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  She was wearing her spin doctor clothes, Drake thought, seething. No jeans or T-shirt. This casual but sophisticated looking pantsuit was silk, the rich amber color highlighting the flecks of gold in her brown eyes. Larry strode immediately to her and clasped his arms around her. Drake felt rage stir inside him, which was ridiculous. He shouldn’t be feeling this.

  Hawthorne drew back and looked at her. “You just won’t believe what happened,” he said wearily.

  “I heard. I am so sorry.” Kennedy patted his arm and looked up at him with such concern that Drake clenched his fists at his sides.

  “You can’t imagine what I‘ve been through the past few hours.”