by Annie Dean
Kitty raised her head and gasped. “Oh, wow. What just happened?”
“I have no idea,” Jack said numbly, staring at the spot where the boat had been just seconds ago. He rubbed the back of his neck. Had it really been nothing more than mass hallucination? “But let's get the hell out of here before the cops get suspicious.”
He placed an arm around Kitty and she turned her face toward him, clutching his shirt in her tiny fists. A rush of tenderness flowed through Jack and he slipped his other arm around her to cradle her against his body, burying his face in her pink hair and breathing her clean, floral scent.
“I'm afraid, Jack,” she whispered.
Jack tightened his arms around her. “Don't worry, baby. I won't let anything happen to you.” And he found himself meaning it more than he had ever meant anything in his life. “Do you want me to take you home? We can get waffles some other time.”
“I don't want to go back there, Jack.” She slid her hands to his waist and kept them there, nuzzling his chest with her nose. Raising her head, she gave him a shaky smile. “And you promised me waffles.”
Jack dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “So I did.” He framed her elfin face between his hands and lowered his head to brush his lips against her cheek, her chin, before pressing a kiss on the corner of her mouth. “Let's go then.”
Chapter Four
After stopping by at a drugstore to pick up a pair of pink gardening clogs and white cotton panties that Jack had insisted on buying for her, the two of them finally managed to make it to the waffle house. It was a 50s style diner complete with checkered plastic tablecloths and a jukebox playing Connie Francis. A busty, blonde-haired waitress dressed in a burgundy and white polyester uniform gave Kitty a quick once-over, raised an overly plucked eyebrow, and led them to a booth near the back of the restaurant, plunking down laminated menus in front of them.
Kitty ordered the banana walnut waffle with extra whipped cream on top, four strips of bacon, and a glass of grapefruit juice. Jack asked for the strawberry shortcake waffle, scrambled eggs and bacon, and black coffee. The waitress wrote down their orders while staring openly at Kitty's hair.
“Why d'ya do it?”
Kitty frowned at the waitress. She was used to people gawking at her hair—after all, a woman did not have pink hair without expecting some attention—but no one had ever asked her the reason behind it. What bothered her was not that she couldn't remember the why of it, but the how and when of it. “I don't know.” She shrugged. “Just felt like doing it at the time.”
The waitress nodded as though Kitty's answer made perfect sense to her. “You look like a girl from the crazy Japanese comics my fourteen-year-old is nuts about. And I'm not just saying that 'cause you're Japanese.” She beamed at her and Jack. “I'll go put in your orders. Be right back with your drinks.”
Japanese? Kitty leaned against the hard plastic backing of the booth and looked at Jack who was watching her intently. Kitty shivered under the scrutiny of his silver eyes. Even covered by his robe and his jacket, she felt … naked. She was suddenly grateful for the underpants Jack had bought for her. Bracing her hands on the cold table, she leaned toward him. “Jack, do I look Japanese to you?”
His sensual mouth curled into a frown of concern. “You certainly have Asian features. Your eyes and skin tone indicate you must have had ancestors that hailed from that part of the world.” He placed his folded arms on the table and leaned toward her. “Do you know your ethnic background?”
She had never pegged herself into a specific ethnicity. She had never thought about it. When she tried to remember what her parents looked like, she found … nothing. Dragging a hand down her face, she sank back against her chair and hugged Jack's jacket tighter around herself. What the hell was going on with her that she couldn't even remember what her parents looked like? On top of that, there were imaginary dragons popping out of nowhere to talk to her and ghost ships and giant naked man statues. She clutched her head in her hands. Was she going crazy? Maybe none of this was real and she was actually locked up in a padded wall somewhere, desperately needing her next lithium dose. She almost jumped when a hand grabbed her wrist and gave it a squeeze.
She slowly straightened in her seat and looked around for a moment, unable to remember where she was or what she had been doing. Blind panic clawed at her insides and her blood became ice-cold. Where the hell am I?
Her glance landed on the man sitting across the table from her. He had short black hair that stood up in spikes on his head and a face that was beautiful in its cruel angles and sharp planes. There was a white pencil-thin scar above his upper lip and a ragged, puckered one just below his hairline. He was dressed in a black long-sleeved T-shirt that looked almost gray from multiple washings. Even under his shirt, she could see the lean, hard lines of his body. He reminded her of an alley cat, feral and hungry. Intense silver eyes stared at her with curiosity … and concern. Did she know him? What did he want from her?
“Whoa.” The grip around her wrist eased a fraction and he snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Sweetheart, come back to me.” He went around the table and slid into the booth next to her, summoning a server with a complicated hand signal. When the girl came around, he said, “Bring me a glass of Coke, lots of ice. Hurry.”
Kitty pressed herself against the wall as the dark-haired stranger reached for her. When he pressed his warm palm against her face, the panic and fear she had been feeling slowly drained out of her body and she allowed herself to relax against his hand.
When the server came back with a glass of dark liquid, he pushed it toward Kitty, pointing the straw at her lips. “Drink it. All of it. Now.”
Kitty instinctively bristled at the stranger's commanding tone, but the look in that steely gaze told her he was contemplating pouring the drink over her head if she didn't drink it right away. She took a wary sip and gasped. It was so cold. And sweet. Her taste buds shrieked for more. Suddenly, she couldn't get enough of it in her mouth. She sucked strongly on the straw, gulping and swallowing the sweet ambrosia, but blinding pain struck the middle of her forehead, immediately shooting through the rest of her skull. She groaned. The straw popped out of her mouth and she sat back against her seat, pressing the butt of her palm against the spot above her eye.
“Brain freeze,” the man next to her murmured, his velvety voice laced with laughter. “Damn, Kitty, I said drink it, not inhale it.”
Kitty. She froze. She removed her palm from her face and slowly turned her head to look at the dark-haired stranger. “Jack?” The corners of his mouth quirked up in a smile and warmth spread throughout her body. “Hi.”
A rough, callused finger brushed a lock of her hair off of her temple. “Where did you go just then? You scared the hell out of me.”
“I…” She dropped her head against the back of her seat and encountered his arm. Taking a deep breath, she pressed herself against his side, exhaling slowly through her nose. “I don't know. My head … it gets screwed up sometimes. I think I'm going nuts.”
He shook his head. “No. That was just shock finally catching up to you. You've had a rough couple of days, haven't you?” With his finger, he traced the side of her face, softly stroking her cheekbone and jaw line. “Christ, Kitty, you scared me.” He crushed her against him, burying his face in her neck.
Kitty allowed him to hold her, slipping her arms around his neck and embracing him. She couldn't believe she'd only known this man for a day, yet seemed to need him as much as her next gulp of air. She inhaled his strong masculine scent. He smelled like smoke, body soap, and lemons. She opened her mouth against his throat. His jugular vein pulsed against her tongue. She licked experimentally at it and he shivered in her arms.
He pulled back from her and his silver eyes were clouded with something she recognized as lust. Wrapping one hand around the nape of her neck, he scraped her jaw with his thumb. “Kitty,” he muttered thickly. “You're so goddamn sexy.”
“Jack,”
she said against his lips. “So are you.”
“Damn.” He eased his hard body away from her and drew a deep breath, running a hand through his short black hair. “We ought to stop this or we'd end up giving everyone in this restaurant a fucking show.” He paused, chuckled at his own words, and slipped his arm off her shoulders. “Unless you want to get out of here and…”
Kitty laughed nervously. This man wanted her very much and she wanted him back with an intensity that scared her. She couldn't afford to be running off to make love to him when she had no idea what the hell was going on with her. Little by little, she was losing her mind and didn't want to drag him down with her. Though she knew she should let him go for his own good, she was selfish enough keep him around for a while yet. In the deepest corner of her soul, a yawning abyss was waiting to swallow her whole and she was afraid what would happen if he left.
“Waffles, remember?”
Jack grinned and winked at her. “A woman after my own heart.” He slid out of the booth and returned to his seat, straightening his shirt.
As if on cue, their waitress arrived bearing plates of food. She placed their respective orders in front of them, patted Kitty's hair with fascination, and bustled away with a saucy shake to her hips. Kitty looked down at her banana and walnut waffles and inhaled deeply. Her stomach growled in response. Jack smiled, shook his head, and dug into the plate in front of him. An answering smile tugged at the corners of Kitty's lips and she relieved her cutlery of its paper napkin restraints.
Kitty watched as Jack sliced a healthy piece of his waffle, shoved it into his mouth, and chewed with gusto. He was obviously a man who enjoyed his food, but based on the almost painful leanness of his face, it wasn't something he did often. It was kind of fun to watch him eat. “So tell me about you, Jack Ridley. Anything in your past I should know about?”
He stopped chewing and washed the contents of his mouth with a gulp of coffee. Wiping his lips with his napkin, he folded his arms across his chest and shrugged. “Not really.”
“Oh.” She'd never had any trouble getting a man to talk before. Working at a bar, she learned that all she had to do was ask a leading question and the man took over from there. Kitty forced her lips into a smile. “Did you grow up here in Chicago?”
Jack folded a slice of bacon in half and shoved it into his mouth. “Yeah.”
The smile on Kitty's face wavered. “Oh. Do your parents live in the area?” Not that he looked like he had parents. There was a hardness to him that told her he didn't exactly grow up in a nurturing home.
“My folks died when I was seven. My grandmother raised me until she died when I was ten. It was the foster care system after that.” He finished the bacon on his plate and nodded at hers. “Are you going to eat those?”
Kitty looked down at her plate and realized she wasn't as hungry as she was a few minutes ago. She pushed her plate toward him. When she reached across the table for his hand, he pulled it out of the way. It stung a little, but she was more concerned with the pain she could feel radiating from him. “Oh. Well, you turned out okay, right? You're a reporter and everything. You must have gone to college.”
He shrugged like it was no big deal. “My grandmother left me some money in a trust that I received when I turned eighteen. I used it to put myself through school.” He glanced down at her uneaten food. “Lost your appetite, huh?”
“What? Oh, heck no.” Kitty snatched a piece of bacon from her plate and shoved it into her mouth, forcing herself to chew. She managed to swallow it with a mouthful of grapefruit juice. Pity is the last thing this guy needs. “You thought you could pull me in with a sob story? I heard a dozen like yours just this week from guys trying to score with me.” She rolled her eyes. “I work in a bar, for God's sake. I hear so many stories like yours every night I could give Dr. Phil a run for his money.”
When he only stared at her, Kitty was afraid she may have gone too far, but a grin slowly stole across his face and a chuckle burst out of his mouth. “You are one funny girl, sweetheart.” He placed his hand over hers, gave it a brief squeeze, and returned to his plate of food. Shoveling another forkful of waffles and strawberries into his mouth, he nodded at her plate. “Eat up, funny girl. And while you do, you can tell me about your sob story. You just may hook me with it. I'm pretty easy.”
The bacon Kitty had swallowed sat heavily in her stomach. “Well, um … I was raised here in Illinois.” She paused, praying her faulty memory didn't fail her this time. “Evanston.” Yeah, that sounds about right. “Umm … boring suburban childhood. I think I may have played the flute in high school, but I can't remember.” She shrugged, hoping to convey an air of apathy.
A smirk curled his lips. “Let me guess. Upper middle class upbringing with parents who are both white-collar. You wanted to do something creative, but they wanted you to grow up to be one of them. You dyed your hair pink, got yourself a liberal arts degree, and ran away to the big city. Saddled with a Masters in Art…” He narrowed his eyes at her. “No, Literature—you couldn't exactly find a job, so you decided you were going to bide your time as a waitress at the Red Dragon Bar until you make it big. How on point am I?”
Kitty summoned a smile to her face. She liked the idea of being a frustrated artist or writer toiling away at a dead-end job while waiting for the big time. It was deliciously melodramatic. “Yeah, that sounds about right. You're wrong about the degree, though. It's Art History.” Lies, all lies. Weren't they? Oh, hell, like she knew any better.
His silver eyes sparkled. “Either way, you sound like the kind of woman who wouldn't mind sitting through an eight-hour Bruce Lee marathon at the Landmark.”
“Bruce Lee?” She liked his films, didn't she? She seemed to recall watching a Bruce Lee film once and enjoying herself immensely. Her mind conjured an image of a big black bed that she lounged in while watching the film … lying next to a man. She froze. Did she have a boyfriend or husband she had forgotten about? The big red dragon had mentioned she belonged to him. She frowned. What the hell was she even thinking? He was a big, red talking dragon, probably a by-product of her deteriorating mind, and Jack Ridley was real. Concrete. Solid. And the owner of a very hard body. “Yeah, I like Bruce Lee. Are you asking me out?”
“Oh, like you have anything better to do? You have a giant naked statue of a man standing in front of your apartment.” He chuckled and raked his gaze over her body. “We'll have to get you something else to wear, of course. Not that I don't find your outfit charming, but I'd like to see you in a dress. What do you say we hit a mall after this?”
The mention of the naked statue had Kitty chewing on her lower lip. She was being stalked by forces she couldn't even begin to understand and should be trying to contact a priest or a witchdoctor. The last thing she should be doing was gallivanting around town with a handsome man clad only in her robe and underwear. She looked up at Jack, a refusal hovering on her lips, and changed her mind. Though he was trying to appear like he didn't care if she said yes or no, there was an expectant look on his face. She grasped his hand on the table. “I could stand to have another slinky dress in my closet. I may even sleep with you afterward to make up for it.”
He choked on his coffee. “Jesus, Kitty, that's not what I meant.”
She chuckled at the outraged look on his face and it felt good. “Jack, I'm kidding. A dress will get you a blowjob. A pair of Jimmy Choo shoes, on the other hand…”
Chapter Five
Even after they finished buying a dress and a pair of shoes for Kitty—she insisted on going to a discount shoe store—they still had a bit of time to kill before they had to be at the theater. Kitty was dying for a shower, but didn't want to go back to her place. Jack suggested they go to his apartment, but immediately regretted making the offer when he remembered what a shithole his place was. What would she think of him when she saw that his place was more suited to an eighteen-year-old frat boy than a grown man of thirty?
Unfortunately, they were already sta
nding at the door and Jack's key was already in the lock. His hand froze, unable to turn the key.
She put a hand on his sleeve. “Jack, what's wrong?”
“Um.” He turned to face her and propped his shoulder against the door, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “My … uh … apartment is a little messy.”
“Oh, Jack, like I care. I'm not a neat freak, either.” She grinned and raised one black eyebrow. “How messy?”
“There may be some pizza boxes and beer cans on the floor.” He sighed. He'd wanted to impress her. He was kind of hoping he'd be able to scrub his apartment from top to bottom before she came over for a visit. Ah, what the hell, he'd already told her the worst about him and she was still hanging around. “All right, it looks like a tornado has torn through a frat house.”
“Big deal. I bet it's not that bad.” She pushed past him and turned the doorknob herself, opening the door for the both of them. “Oh, good God.” She looked over her shoulder at him, her violet eyes wide with shock. To her credit, she recovered quickly enough and flashed him one of those heart-stopping smiles. “Nothing a couple of bottles of Lysol, a few trashbags, and a really good vacuum cleaner couldn't fix.”
Jack felt himself redden. “Well, why don't you go take a shower and I'll … uh … try to get rid of some of the trash.” He handed her the shopping bags. “There should be an extra toothbrush in the drawer under the sink.”
“You're a sweetheart.” She stood on the tips of her toes and planted a kiss on his chin. “I'll be done in two shakes.” She took two steps into his apartment and tripped on a tennis shoe. “I'm okay!”
She was sprawled gracelessly on the carpet, showing a good amount of olive skin through the opening of her robe. Jack pictured her long, slender legs wrapped around his hips and swallowed hard. He shut his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. He could be a gentleman about this. He wasn't about to take advantage of a woman in a vulnerable position. Mmm … position. He could imagine himself standing behind her while she was crouched on his bed on all fours waiting for him to take her. He shook the image from his mind and rushed forward to give her a hand up.
