“The shower’s through there.” He gestured toward the tiny corner bathroom. “But the hot water is solar heated and only lasts for about two minutes. You’ll have to be quick.”
She stared at him. “I rush for no man.”
“Suit yourself,” he said cheerfully. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you. The water goes from balmy summer day to arctic blast in about three seconds.”
He wasn’t kidding about the water. Two minutes turned out to be just enough time to get her hair—which fell thickly to just below her chin—dampened down. No shampoo. No conditioner. Definitely no time to let anything soak in. There wasn’t even any comforting steam coiling around the ceiling when she stepped out of the tiny corner shower.
She shivered as she wrapped herself in a towel that felt like it was made out of sandpaper, and surveyed her meager surroundings.
“Ugh—men” was all she could come up with while her teeth chattered and her spirits sank. Maybe Noah could get away with rolling out of bed and looking like a sex-rumpled god, but her carefully maintained appearance took time. And hot water. And a blow dryer. She looked around, horrified. There were no outlets in the bathroom. There was barely even a mirror, just a tiny patch of reflective light that might allow her a glimpse of one tooth at a time.
She needed a mirror, darn it. No respectable Indian girl emerged into the daylight without her eyeliner on—she might as well saunter around naked.
With a sigh, she pulled out her overnight bag and began rallying her resources. This was going to take at least half an hour. This was going to take a miracle.
* * *
The first thing Kendra did when she got back to Pleasant Park was stop at Power Jam, the bakery recently opened by Jared’s girlfriend, Gretchen.
“I need your coffee,” she announced. “All of it.”
This much past noon, there wasn’t anyone else inside the cozy café, which generally had a line out the door on weekend mornings. Gretchen, an incredibly fierce roller derby girl with the most amazing tattoos and a light touch when it came to pastries, had come up with the genius idea of only making enough food every morning for half the people who stopped by. If you didn’t get there early, you didn’t get fed.
What seemed like a quick way to antagonize the population had turned out to be the exact opposite. Gretchen only had to work a few hours a day, and people still climbed all over themselves for her scones.
“All that’s left is four-hour-old drip coffee,” Gretchen apologized. She came from around the counter in tiny shorts and a tight tank top, her only sign of bakery ownership a small white apron around her waist. She dropped a plate on the table in front of Kendra with a flourish. “But I did manage to hold on to these.”
As these were a pair of chocolate croissants that would take at least six hours of athletic sex with Noah to work off, Kendra gladly dug in. “And bring on the old coffee. The more concentrated, the better.”
“Rough night?” Even though the sign on the door said the shop would be open for another half hour, Gretchen turned the lock and joined her at the table, a cup of what looked like black tar in her hand.
“Rough night. Rougher morning.” Kendra took a long drink and felt the worst of her caffeine headache ebb away almost immediately. Not only did Noah have barely any hot water and no outlets anywhere in the house, but he didn’t even have a coffeemaker. She’d had to make do with herbal tea and wet, mangled hair. Noah hadn’t seemed to mind the latter, showing himself more than up to the task of another round of rolling in the hay.
But oddly enough, the lure of coffee and her magnification mirror at home won out over sex. Kendra hadn’t even realized such a thing was possible, and it kind of scared her. Had she really gotten so attached to her own looks that she couldn’t go one day without them?
“Was he worth it, at least?” Gretchen asked sympathetically. As her own aesthetic was composed of heavily made-up sixties vixen eyes and an adorable Bettie Page hairstyle flat-ironed straight, she could probably relate.
Kendra sat back in her chair. “Oh, God, yes. Worth every second.”
Gretchen raised her cup in a mock toast, and they drank to men who made all the hard work worthwhile. But Kendra couldn’t shake the unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“Can I ask you something?” Kendra didn’t normally shy away from difficult conversations, but she felt silly bringing her problems to Gretchen. “Something kind of awkward?”
“Of course.” Gretchen set her cup aside and gave Kendra her full attention. “Trust me. Since getting to know you and Whitney better, I’ve learned that there’s no such thing as an inappropriate question.”
Kendra laughed. That was definitely more Whitney’s fault than hers. “You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to, but when you first met me, did you ever get the feeling I was vain?”
Gretchen paused, toying with her spoon.
“Oh, dear. Is it that bad?”
“Vain isn’t the right word.” Gretchen smiled reassuringly. “It’s more like you know your own worth and aren’t afraid to make sure other people know it too.”
“That doesn’t sound better.”
“Oh, it is. Believe me. You have no idea how many women wish they could be more like you—to know how beautiful and successful and smart they are and not have to constantly question it. To have that feel like normal.”
That still didn’t sound any better. “It’s a wonder you can stand me.”
“I adored you right from the start,” Gretchen promised, her hand clasping Kendra’s for a quick squeeze. “Maybe I feel a few twinges of jealousy from time to time, but I know you have the heart to go along with the rest. So it’s all good.”
It was a sweet thing to say, even if Kendra wasn’t sure Gretchen meant it—or how that made her feel. Proud of herself, yes, but also a little worried. In consulting only her own desires for so long, she’d somehow lost her ability to see things through anyone else’s perspective. Was she a strong, confident woman who didn’t need a man to be whole...or was she lonely? Was she a market-driven success story her parents could be proud of...or had she become overly dependent on appearances?
And how the heck was she supposed to tell the difference?
Since she didn’t have any answers, she let the subject drop, and the two women chatted for a few more minutes about borough news until Jared materialized at the back door with his dog on a bright blue leash.
“Wow, Kendra.” Jared tied his dog up outside the back door and came to join them. “You look like hell. Is everything okay?”
She glared at him over the top of her coffee cup. Reminding her of her current state—and what a departure it was from the norm—wasn’t helping matters any.
It wasn’t fair. Whitney’s relationship with Matt made her all glowy and youthful. Jared was barely recognizable these days, whistling down the streets as though a lifetime had been lifted from his shoulders. And John was one of those damnable men who got hotter with each passing year. Another half decade and he’d officially be a silver fox.
Only Kendra seemed to age with each passing fling. She didn’t glow—she got a little more rundown, added a few more bags under her eyes, earned a free pass to an extra half hour at the gym. And even though she knew those things shouldn’t bother her, they did.
“She’s recovering from a night of mind-blowing passion, you jerk,” Gretchen said, rising up in her defense. Although the brusque way Gretchen and Jared talked to each other had taken some getting used to, Kendra now knew it to be a sign of their affection. “Show some tact or I’ll make you clean the grease trap.”
Jared peered closer. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without makeup on before.”
“I have makeup on,” she said irritably. “It’s just slightly askew. And now that I’ve been properly caffeinated, I can face
the rest of my day with a smile.” Her smile, when she put it on, felt more like a sneer.
Jared laughed. “I take it back. I like the natural look on you. Your true colors come shining through.”
With a flip of her middle finger, Kendra hefted her bag over her shoulder and thanked Gretchen for the coffee and hospitality. “Well, I’m out of here. You two enjoy your day.”
The look they shared indicated they intended to do just that. Without waiting for them to do the polite thing and ask her to stay, she girded her loins and headed for the exit. Despite the day’s revelations, she needed a real shower and her blow dryer and a store that would sell her a French press to keep at Noah’s house.
Although her vanity urged her to start with the first two, she forced herself to stop at the kitchen store a few blocks down, settling on an expensive carafe that required nothing but hot water and pre-ground coffee beans. Weak though it made her, she wasn’t quite ready to face her house yet, not when Nikki and Lincoln were surely taking advantage of her lengthy absence to enjoy all the pleasures of their flesh.
Oh, gross. Taking great pains to avoid her image in the storefront windows, she also decided to stop by a shop selling linens. She was going to need new sheets too.
Chapter Fourteen
“Oh, um. Hi.” Lincoln pulled open Kendra’s front door, looking appropriately sheepish—and, thankfully, clothed this time around. “You didn’t have to knock. Your sister’s in the shower.”
Kendra felt an odd sense of relief to see Lincoln still upright, still at her house, still possessed of that indefinable Lincoln quality that made him stand out among men with less confidence and more of a right to it. Whatever else his faults, Lincoln never pretended to be someone he wasn’t.
“And you’re playing butler while she lathers up?” she asked breezily. As it appeared she wasn’t going to walk into some kind of freaky sex act on top of her favorite throw rug, she entered and hung her keys on their customary hook. “I’ve always wanted someone to wait on me hand and foot.”
“Kendra...”
This time, she was prepared to listen. Even though she looked and felt like the back end of Goat, she paused only long enough to put her purchases on the counter and wash her hands. It was better that they have this conversation while Nikki was busy—and if Noah thought Kendra took long showers, he had no idea what kind of damage her sister could do with a tankless hot water heater and Kendra’s collection of Philosophy body washes.
“Okay.” She curled her legs underneath her as she settled into the couch. “I’ll give you the floor for five minutes, and then it’s my turn. What the heck happened yesterday?”
“I can’t really explain it. It just sort of...was.” Lincoln rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. He wore the same clothes he’d had on the day before, which meant he had yet to go home for day, and he even had a hint of stubble shading his jawline. Never, in all the time she’d known him, had he let his personal grooming standards slip enough to prove himself capable of growing facial hair. “I was showing her—your sister—some of the local sights. We were having fun, laughing, the usual. She slipped on this wet patch inside the ice cream shop on Fifth, and the next thing you know, there was kissing and stuff.”
And stuff. She could only imagine. “So, what? You got along, you felt a connection, you gave in to it? As easy as that?”
She let the words settle, unblinking, until Lincoln groaned. “I know. I’m an asshole.”
She didn’t disagree. That lineup right there—acquaintance, desire, sex—was the bare bones of attraction. What she felt for Noah, what she’d been forced to bury at Lincoln’s command, had become so much more than that. And he knew it.
“But I really like Nikki,” he hurried to add. His eyes pleaded with her, but she wasn’t sure what he was asking for. Forgiveness? Understanding? A joke to make it all okay? “It’s not a one-time thing. We’re going to keep seeing each other.”
“Just like that, you’re ready to move on?” She snapped her fingers. “An entire year you’ve tried to make me feel like a bitch for not agreeing to go out with you again, and all it takes is a twenty-two-year-old who shares my DNA, and your feelings are gone?”
“What did Noah say about it?”
“He was understandably upset. I think you might owe him an apology.”
Lincoln’s gaze sharpened, the puppy-dog look replaced by a glimmer of the man she’d seen the day he confronted the trespasser. “I know. I’ll apologize. But you also need to promise me you’ll be careful with him.”
“Excuse me?” The last thing she was going to do was sit here and accept relationship advice from Lincoln. If she wanted tips on how to order from a tasting menu? He was her man. Advice on talking her way out of a speeding ticket? Sure. But when it came to realistic expectations about the opposite sex, she’d turn to someone else. Anyone else. She’d even rather ask her mother.
“I don’t think you realize the effect you have on men, Kendra.”
A surge of anger moved through her, building up on top of all the other frustrations that had been mounting lately. She really didn’t want to have to defend her life choices right now—especially to a guy who had made many of the same ones she had. “That’s not fair, and you know it. Putting on lipstick in the morning isn’t an invitation for harassment. It’s just lipstick.”
“I’m not talking about your looks, Kendra. I’m talking about—” he made a vague waving gesture over her, “—all of it. You get under a man’s skin and refuse to leave.”
Good. She didn’t want to leave Noah’s skin. She liked it there.
“I’m serious about this,” he said, as if reading her mind. “You’re so put together—this townhouse, your job, your family, everything you touch. It’s fucking scary. I spent an entire year looking for a foothold into your life, searching for a crack to let myself in. But you don’t have any.”
“I have footholds.” She had cracks.
Lincoln shook his head resolutely. “You don’t need a man to complete you, but you sure as hell inspire them to try. And don’t get all feminist on me and start screaming about how no woman needs a man to be whole. I know that. But every now and then we like to think you do.”
She couldn’t tell if she was more stunned or amused at Lincoln’s outburst. It was almost rational. And yet completely insane. “So...you’re yelling at me for being too perfect? And saying, what? That my sister is nice and cracked? She’ll love to hear that.”
“I’m saying I realize now that I don’t stand a chance against you. I never did. Neither does Noah.” He lowered his elbows to his knees and took a deep breath. “Even though you probably won’t believe me, Noah’s not as resilient as me when it comes to women like you. He’s been broken before. You could break him for good.”
She opened her mouth and closed it again, unsure how to respond to that. Noah was unflappable. Solid. A tree. “Does this have anything to do with the woman who stomped on his heart? The one who turned him into a hermit?”
“Her name was Danielle.”
Danielle. Two syllables, nothing more.
“And she did a lot more than stomp on his heart.” Lincoln held her gaze firmly. “Just be careful with him. That’s all I’m asking.”
Nikki chose that moment to emerge from the bathroom, clad in nothing but a towel, smelling of Kendra’s favorite lemon sugar scrub. “Uh-oh,” she said, taking in the sight of them sitting stiff and anxious, thousands of lingering questions in the air. “Am I in trouble?”
“Of course not.” Kendra rose and beamed at her sister, determined to give nothing away. Whatever else happened here, she’d promised her mother to get Nikki’s mind off Hank and back on the road to prosperity. And Lincoln, in his own bizarrely irrepressible way, presented the perfect opportunity to make that happen. “We were just chatting about old times. Pretend I’
m not here. I’m going to take over your shower, pack a few things and retreat back into the wilderness.”
“And you’re okay with all this?” Nikki pointed between herself and Lincoln.
Kendra’s smile burned even brighter. “We may need to get together in the next few days and set some boundaries, but you have my blessing.” She looked to Lincoln. “That is, assuming I have yours?”
“Of course—but I thought you said you didn’t need my permission.”
“I don’t.” But for some odd reason it suddenly seemed worth having.
* * *
“You brought an entire suitcase?” Noah grabbed the oversized brown leather case from Kendra’s hand and obligingly hoisted it over his shoulder. “For a one-night stay?”
He took advantage of her lips parting in protest to lean down and steal a kiss. If his arms hadn’t been occupied holding what felt like fifty pounds aloft, there was a good chance she’d have been the one getting carried inside in the suitcase’s stead. Her tongue slipped between his lips as she released a soft moan.
Damn. That was a kiss a man could get used to.
“Those aren’t my clothes,” she teased as she pulled away. She reached into the trunk of her car—a silver BMW with a fine layer of dust over the top from the drive in—and extracted a matching handbag. “These are my clothes. Those are a few essentials.”
He stared up at the suitcase. “Essential for what?”
A pair of warm arms wound around his middle, one hand slipping surreptitiously southward. “Essential for life. Trust me, Noah, if you want to get between my thighs again sometime soon, we’re going to have to make a few changes around here first.”
A few changes? He stilled—partly because her hand slipped down the front of his jeans, cupping in all the right places, but mostly because of her words. Short of plague of locusts, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted to hear less right now. He didn’t even like changing where he kept his socks. Whatever this suitcase of doom contained was infinitely worse.
The Party Girl Page 20
