Bare In Bermuda
Page 32
“Oh, yes. Mrs. Fogle. She’s told me how good you’ve been to her.”
Huh? He’d spoken to Mrs. Fogle? About her?
Kim shrugged, downplaying it. “Yeah, well. No point in her going down all those steps for just a few things.” Her glance skittered around the hallway and finally landed on his face.
His sandy brown hair was cut short. He had a long face and nose. Nobody could ever call him handsome, but his eyes—wow. They were so blue.
She gave herself a little inward shake. They probably weren’t his real color. Lots of people wore contact lenses.
She felt nervous, her arms loose and floppy at her sides. “Well, thanks, Mr. Keller.” Her expression of appreciation was more genuine now.
“Charlie,” he said and held something else in his hands. “Don’t forget this.” Just as she reached for the small quilt of blue, yellow, and white, he inspected it more closely. “This is beautiful. Did you make it?”
Kim felt a glow of pride, mixed with the heat of embarrassment. Did he really think it was beautiful? “Yeah.”
He showed no inclination to let it go. “It’s amazing. The stitches are so tiny. You must have done this by hand.”
“Some of it.” She grasped the quilt and gently pulled it from his hold. “That must have gotten in there accidently.”
While they spoke, Groucho had managed to claw at the front door, which never really closed tightly, and open it enough to slip outside.
“Get back here!” Kim snapped, as though there were a chance in hell the cat might actually obey. She hurried outside just in time to see him scramble up the big maple in front of the house.
She stalked to the foot of the tree and scowled up at the scruffy orange cat. The little bastard perched on a lower branch, too high to reach but low enough to tease. Ha ha, you can’t get me!
“Get down from there, dumbass!”
Groucho scowled back. Though it was hard to tell, considering the former street cat was missing an eye and half an ear and had been in so many fights his face seemed frozen in a permanent snarl. Whatever the case, he didn’t move.
Shit. Time to change tactics.
“Aw, come on. Be a good boy.”
Groucho wasn’t fooled by her syrupy tone. He glared at her with his one good eye and stubbornly hunkered down for the long haul.
“Damn it, you little…” She left the curse word unspoken and huffed in disgust. “Ungrateful old fleabag. This is the thanks I get for rescuing your raggedy ass from the streets.”
She could swear Groucho turned up his nose. Who asked you to?
What else could go wrong today? She’d been dumped in front of a lunch-time crowd at Sammy’s Subs. She’d dusted the staircase with her butt. And now her own pet—her supposed faithful companion—was dissing her in full view of the entire neighborhood.
The self-pity she’d held back all day came crashing in on her all at once as she heard Adam’s voice. I think we should take a break.
How could she have been so stupid? She knew Adam didn’t love her, but she had told herself if she just hung in there, gave him a little more time, his feelings would change…
She’d been kidding herself. When did things ever work out for her with guys? They all ended up leaving her, sooner or later. Usually sooner. Adam, the best of the lot, had lasted longer than the others.
Big deal. He’s still gone, isn’t he?
“Come on, huh?” she pleaded, looking up again at the big cat. “Give me a break.”
Groucho just ignored her.
Mr. Keller walked toward her. “If you just leave him alone, I’m sure he’ll come down when he’s ready.”
Kim’s mouth flattened. The last thing she was in the mood for was unsolicited advice from a non-cat owner.
“He got up there. He’ll find his way down.”
“I don’t like to leave him out.” Though Groucho had adjusted pretty well to indoor life, every once in a while the “call of the wild” kicked in and he couldn’t resist the urge to break loose.
“We can keep an eye on him over there.” The man gestured with his thumb to the big porch in front of the house.
Kim’s eyebrows rose. We?
She trailed him to the house and up the wide steps of the porch. She plunked down on the top step while he stood at the front door.
“How about something to drink?” he offered.
“Sure,” Kim said casually, then feeling daring and hoping to fluster the teacher, she asked, “Got any beer?”
He smiled. “Sure.”
She drooped when her little attempt fell flat. What was she doing? Trying to take her sucky day out on him?
He came out with a couple of bottles and handed her one. She glanced at the label, expecting some fancy brew so she could indulge in a bit of reverse snobbery, but to her disappointment it was the same inexpensive kind she usually bought.
“Not your brand?” he asked.
“No, it’s fine.” Then, she added “Thanks, Charlie.” Though he’d told her to call him that, it gave her a naughty thrill to do so. She felt like an impudent student daring to address her teacher by his first name.
He smiled broadly, easily. “My friends call me Charlie.” He clinked the neck of his bottle against hers. “I hope that we’ll be friends. Kim.”
Looking at that smile, at that set of gleaming white teeth, Kim felt as though someone—or something—snatched the breath right out of her. Though they hadn’t touched, a spark of static electricity zapped her.
Dizzy and light-headed, she quickly looked away as a tingle flashed through her, concentrating right between her thighs. The mouth of the bottle clicked against her teeth as she tipped it to moisten her dry mouth and quench the sudden heat in her belly.
All she could think was, Ohhh, crap.
****
Charlie watched as Kim took a sip from the bottle. She’d never let him get this close before. Oh, she’d nod and murmur a greeting if they ran into each other in the hall, but she always shut him down whenever he tried chatting her up. Charlie hadn’t known if she was shy or stand-offish or maybe just didn’t like his looks.
He liked her looks. He admired her tall, trim figure and the glossy brown hair that brushed her shoulders. He liked the freckles that danced across her nose and cheeks. He even liked the little space between her top front teeth. It didn’t detract from her prettiness but made it more unique.
And he really liked her breasts. They were small, but man did they have some pointy nipples. He appreciated the fact that she didn’t wear a bra under her camisole today, and he tried not to stare, but those nipples kept drawing his attention. Was it his imagination or did they grow even pointier in his presence?
While he sat there, making pleasant if awkward conversation with Kim, all he could think about was how he’d like to peel that cami off her and roll his cold beer bottle over her nipples. They’d pucker into hard pebbles. Then he’d take them in his mouth and warm them.
His cock hardened, reacting to the fantasy. Down, boy.
But it was more than her nipples that intrigued him. Kim couldn’t give him the time of day, yet she didn’t mind doing favors for their elderly neighbor. She’d given a loving home to a scraggly street cat. And the quilt was a story in itself. She’d obviously put a lot of love into that.
Maybe because she was someone with a lot of love to give and only needed the right person to give it to.
Love? Laughter rang in his head. A minute ago you were thinking about her nips. You’re getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you, Chuckles?
Charlie smiled. He wouldn’t even be here, getting ahead of himself, if Groucho hadn’t run up the tree. He owed that crazy cat a big bag of treats.
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Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Bare In Bermuda
Copyright
Dedication
Trademarks Acknowledgement
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
About the Author
Also Available
Chapter One
Thank You