Mr. Imperfect

by Karina Bliss

  She nodded and his expression grew rueful. “Ah, to hell with it.” He pulled her into his arms. His ribs expanded in a deep tremulous sigh and Kezia buried her face against him. Only when they heard footsteps clobbering down the stairs did they pull apart.

  “Your friends,” Kezia said awkwardly. “I’d better get back before they arrive.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “No, you bloody won’t,” contradicted Bob, John Jason at his heels like an eager puppy. “Not until you can stand that bell.”

  “I’ll never be able to stand that bell,” Christian muttered, but there was no heat in it. Grinning, he ruffled John Jason’s hair. “And you need to be in bed, little guy.”

  “My daddy’s coming back.”

  The good humor vanished from Christian’s face. “I don’t think so,” he said, looking to Kezia for confirmation.

  “We’ll talk later,” she soothed.

  “Bob, can you amuse John Jason for a couple of minutes?” Christian put a hand under Kezia’s elbow and propelled her toward the stairs. “We’ll talk now.” A single bell tolled behind them, musical and haunting.

  “It’s none of our business,” she insisted outside.

  “Of course it’s our business. The sonovabitch is taking advantage of Marion when she’s down.” Christian paced in his agitation, his shoes crunching on the gravel driveway. The bell rang again, momentarily distracting him. Why couldn’t he get the damn thing to ring like that?

  “She says he’s changed…AA, counseling.”

  Christian snorted. “That’s exactly the line he spun me when he came to the hotel a couple of weeks ago. I sent him packing.”

  “What?” Kezia stared at him. “And you didn’t tell me?”

  “I didn’t tell anybody, figured he wouldn’t be back. Guess I underestimated his nerve.”

  “And overestimated your authority.” Kezia looked as mad as a hornet. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

  “I did what I thought was best. You should thank me.”

  “Thank you?” Okay, mad as two hornets. “You had no right to keep this from me, let alone Marion.” Her brow furrowed. “She never mentioned it on the phone, I don’t think he’s told her.”

  “Maybe he’s ashamed of backing down.” Except honesty compelled Christian to admit Joe hadn’t backed down, not really.

  “Maybe he’s giving you the benefit of the doubt because you were trying to act in Marion’s best interests,” retorted Kezia.

  “Him giving me the benefit of the doubt—”

  She cut him short. “You don’t know him, Christian. I do. And I believe Joe is capable of changing. Anyway, what you and I think is immaterial. Marion’s a grown woman, able to make her own decisions without your paternalistic interference.”

  “We’ll see about that,” he said grimly.

  “Look!” Kezia grabbed him by the biceps, forcing him around to look at her. “She hasn’t done this lightly but she loves him and she’s willing to give him another chance so—”

  “If she wants to kid herself, fine,” Christian interrupted, “but there’s more at stake here than her fantasy happy ending. She has John Jason to consider.”

  “Joe never struck John Jason. Never. The incident with Marion was a one-off.”

  He shook free. “And that excuses him, does it?”

  “No, of course it doesn’t.” She wasn’t cowed in the least. “But he had the sense to leave before he did any more harm. This is not your fight.”

  Christian moved away. “I’m not prepared to sit by and watch John Jason get screwed over because Marion is in denial.”

  “I don’t want to say this, but your attitude is forcing me to,” she said in a low voice. “Joe is not your father and John Jason is not you. Some people deserve another chance.”

  So much for trusting her with his secrets. “Are you going to help me talk her out of this or not?”

  “I’m reserving judgment. So should you.”

  Christian shook his head in disgust. “You know, I will stay here with Bob. I can’t stand being anywhere near you right now.” The hurt in her eyes made him feel better—for about a millisecond. But his pride wouldn’t let him take it back.

  “Ditto,” she retorted. “Let’s hope your friends have better manners, because I’ve had it with pig-headed men!”

  Christian thought of what they could tell her, and blanched. “Just don’t listen to anything they say about me,” he warned.

  Kezia gave him a withering look. “Why the hell would I want to talk about you?”

  “IN ALL THE YEARS YOU’VE KNOWN him, has Christian ever mentioned me?” Kezia put her glass of whiskey down harder than she’d meant to and some of the liquid spilled onto the table. Didn’t matter, the bar closed at nine-thirty on a Wednesday, she didn’t have to behave herself. She squinted at the grandfather clock. Nine forty-five and still no Christian. Okay, she was officially miserable.

  “No,” Jordan admitted. “We didn’t know you existed until a few weeks ago.”

  “Essactly.” Kezia stopped dabbing the spill with a napkin and stabbed one finger into his chest to emphasize her point. At least it was supposed to be one finger; if it would just keep still she’d know for sure. “Nice pecs.” Distracted by his resilient muscle, she poked again. “Course not as nice as Christian’s.”

  “In his defense—” Luke brought her back to the subject “—who did you tell about Christian?”

  Kezia tried to think. “Nobody.”

  “And I hate to disagree with a lady,” said Jordan, “but this nicer pecs thing is debatable.”

  “Now see, there you go calling me a lady when I’m not.” Kezia propped her head in her hands; it was getting sooooo heavy. “I used to be good before Christian came back and then I forgot to be good and things started going wrong, which was a shame because sometimes it’s so good to be bad…”

  She lost the point of her story and gazed at them while she tried to recollect it. Boy, they were some lookers, the sort of guys—like Christian—who were so fun to be bad with. “Now what would you say if I was a bad girl?” she wondered, then realized she’d spoken the words our loud. “No, really—” she took another swig of her drink “—go ahead.”

  Jordan looked at Luke. They both grinned. “You have nice pecs too,” Jordan offered.

  Kezia recalled Miss September. “And they’re not cold to the touch, either. Wanna feel?” She fumbled with the buttons of her blouse. Jordan and Luke caught a hand each.

  “Unfortunately, Kez,” said Jordan, regret in his tone, “we’re obliged to take your word for that.”

  “Okey doke, then.” They were such nice guys. Gorgeous and wickedly funny and charming, even when they’d suggested that a third glass of Muriel’s fine whiskey might not be wise. Perhaps Marion’s recovery had been toasted enough?

  “Nonsense,” she’d said, feeling damn fine by that stage. “I don’t know why I don’t do this more often.”

  “You will in the morning,” Luke said dryly, but other than putting a jug of water in front of her, hadn’t argued with her. Not like Christian!

  Kezia scowled. “An’ who the hell does he think he is, being better than I am at helping people. Whass’ his motivation, huh?”

  The men looked at her affectionately. “Now there’s a question we can answer,” Luke said, but she waved him to silence.

  “The oldies love him. So do the preschool mums—well, okay they’re women, but the mayor isn’t and he wants him to stand for council. ’Cept for me, the only one who sees through him is Roland.” She’d told them all about the missing Roland.

  Jordan seemed to be having trouble with his face. “The rat?”

  “Sssssactly. Very sound judge of character is Roland. Only thing he’s hopeless at is ringing bells. Yeah, he sucks at that.”

  “The rat?” Luke choked.

  “No, Christian. Pay attention!”

  “Oh, Kez.” Jordan burst out laughing. “He’s gotta keep you.”


  “He intends to,” said a dry voice behind them.

  “Christian!” The men got to their feet.

  Kezia rolled her head back to check. “Nope,” she corrected. “The rat.”

  Christian helped her lift her head. “How much have you had to drink, babe?”

  “Not nearly enough, you f….fff…flock-stealing wolf in sheep’s clothing! You insulting, secret-hiding—”

  “Four whiskeys,” Jordan volunteered.

  “Straight,” added Luke.

  Kezia frowned in their general direction. “I refuse to drink with tattletales.” Gathering her dignity, she tried to stand but sank back in her chair. “Hey, this floor’s ssstill out of level. I thought we had it fixed?”

  “Uh-huh.” Christian hauled her up and she found herself hanging over his shoulder staring at the offending floor.

  “Even the floorboards aren’t straight.” She yelped and grabbed a hold as Christian swung around and headed for the door.

  “Say good-night, babe.”

  She pushed against Christian’s butt to bring the guys back into view. Grinned. “G’night, babes.”

  “Good night, Kez. See you in the morning.”

  But she was already distracted. “Now you can’t tell me,” she called back, her hand still curved around that deliciously rolling rump, “that anyone’s got a nicer ass than this.”

  Jordan glanced at Luke. “You have,” he replied, and both men grinned when Christian missed his stride.

  “I’ll be back.” He threw the words over his shoulder.

  Luke waited until Christian was out of earshot. “Kez’s invitation…”

  “Breast kept between us?”

  “That’s what I admire about you, Jord. Your sense of the proprieties.”

  In the bedroom, Kezia found herself propped up by one of Christian’s hands while he pulled back the duvet with the other. “I’m fine,” she insisted, pulling out of his hold and toppling into bed.

  He took off her shoes. “You are so ripped.”

  “This is what it would be like to be married to me,” she warned him. “You’d be stuck at home wiss kids and I’d be out getting drunk evreee night.”

  “Uh-huh.” He pulled off her skirt, unbuttoned her blouse.

  Even in her drunken haze Kezia noticed his care. That would never do. She stuck out her lower lip aggressively. “Thought you couldn’t stand the ssssight of me?”

  He sighed and sat on the bed. “That was a lousy thing to say and I’m sorry. I don’t trust Marion’s judgment but I trust yours, so I’ll try to give this Joe a chance.”

  “Is that why you didn’t come home, cause you were mad at me?”

  He hesitated. “No, Bob and I had business. Incidentally, I don’t have to play bells on Sunday, do I?”

  “Nope, jus try’n to put you off marrying me.”

  “So how am I doing on this ridiculous test of yours?”

  “You’re passing,” she wailed. “People like you more’n me.”

  Christian stroked loose strands of hair away from her face. “Why don’t you want to marry me, Kez?”

  She rolled away from him and thumped her cast against the wall. “I just wish I’d answered when Marion called!”

  “And I wish I’d repaired the damn stairs. But she’s going to be fine, so dump the guilt and let’s get on with our lives.”

  “I can’t, not until she knows. You see, I le’ go,” she whispered. “When she fell, I grabbed her. But I le’go.”

  “Kez, you had a broken wrist.” He reached out a hand and she flung away, shunning the comfort she didn’t deserve.

  “I didn’t grab her with that hand.”

  His momentary shock was enough to supercharge her shame. “Oh, Kez—”

  “Don’t say anythin’.” She rolled onto her stomach and put a pillow over her head. “If you really love me,” she said from under it, “you’ll leave me alone.”

  It was a dirty trick, but it worked.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHRISTIAN SHUT KEZIA’S door and hesitated, reluctant to leave her. But she wasn’t in any fit state to see sense tonight—to understand that Marion’s momentum and greater weight would have made it impossible for her to hold on.

  Still, he couldn’t leave. Didn’t he know that misery intimately? Only Kezia’s suggestion that his mother knew what she was risking by seeing him had eased his conscience. And only Kezia’s confession to Marion, would ease hers. At least he hoped it would.

  Hurt soul to hurt soul, he understood her so well. He had no doubt Marion would forgive her, but Kezia’s intolerance of her own failings bordered on pathological. She refused to hear a word against her parents, but they’d set the bar too high. Muriel—irascible, accepting and loving as she was—had relied on the young Kezia more than she should have. So, for that matter—he’d noticed this week—did everyone else in Waterview.

  It was time Kezia had someone to lean on. Guess he had to grow up to realize how much he wanted—needed—the job of protecting the protector.

  Unable to help himself, he opened her door. She lay sprawled across the bed asleep, flushed and disheveled. The bedroom smelled like a brewery. Christian opened the window then straightened the rumpled sheet and covered her with it. “I love you, Kez.”

  She answered with a light snore and he grinned. He kissed her forehead, breathed her in. Feeling more optimistic, he headed back to his guests. It was a good thing all the cards were finally on the table. Now they’d get somewhere.

  KEZIA WOKE UP WITH A MOUTH so dry, she could taste sand. She rolled over, shielding her eyes against the shaft of light slicing through the drapes, and her stomach rolled with her.

  Maybe if she didn’t move it would—Tumbling out of bed, she dashed for the bathroom and threw up, then changed into a nightdress and crawled back into bed. Aspirin and a water jug were on the bedside table. She took two pills, chugging the water straight from the jug.

  Lying down, she tried to think. Marion okay…good. Too much whiskey…bad. Two gorgeous men, one dark, one fair…She drifted back to sleep.

  Kezia jerked upright two hours later with one thought. I can never ever see Christian’s friends again. While she’d been sleeping, she saw, someone had delivered dry toast and a cup of tea. Beside them, were two dozen red roses in a crystal vase with a gilt-edged card propped against it. “Sorry if we made fools of ourselves last night. Drank so much we can’t remember a thing. Your fans, Jordan and Luke.” Relieved, Kezia hid the toast with a napkin and sipped the cold tea. That was one problem solved. But there was another, something terrible trying to wriggle into her consciousness. It was…it was…

  You told Christian about Marion.

  Droplets of tea splattered across the white sheet and Kezia stared at them, unseeing. I told Christian about Marion. Racking her brains to recall details, she remembered his shock. Remembered telling him to leave her alone. Remembered…he did.

  She heard the door open and Christian stood in front of her as if raised by her clamorous emotions, his expression holding a challenge that made her instantly wary. “Still feeling sorry for yourself?”

  She didn’t like his tone, either. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had a hangover.”

  “I was talking about that guilt you’ve been nursing since the accident.”

  Under the sheet, Kezia brought her knees up to her chest and clasped them. “I’m sorry I unloaded on you—”

  “I’m not,” he interrupted. “It explains a lot. Why haven’t you told her?”

  Kezia picked up the edge of the sheet and began fretting with it. “At first she was too sick, then Sally was always around, then you showed up and we brought John Jason home.” She paused. “Where is he? And your, uh, friends?”

  “John Jason is with Bernice May for the morning. I figured you weren’t up to child care. Luke and Jordan are—” he glanced at his watch “—halfway home by now. We’re setting up a charitable trust. Luke will run it.”

  “That’s
fantastic!” For a moment Kezia forgot her problems. “Tell me which causes you’ll support.”

  He folded his arms. “First, your excuses for not telling Marion.”

  Kezia squirmed. “They’re not excuses. I intend telling her the first chance I get.”

  “If that’s all that’s stopping you…” Christian tossed her his mobile. Kezia dropped it as though it was hot.

  “Are you crazy? I’m not telling her over the phone.”

  “Call her now, Kez,” he ordered. “You know she’ll forgive you.” Seeing the dread she couldn’t hide, his expression softened. “Please. Put us all out of our misery.”

  Her eyes shied away. “I’ll call her when I’m good and ready, and my misery has nothing to do with yours.” Except they both knew that wasn’t true. Her shame erupted into anger. He knew everything now, every sordid secret she had, and he still kept trying to raise her hopes.

  Well, she was sick of it. Sick of never being strong enough to resist him, sick of waiting for him to abandon her. “You want to be put out of your misery?” She glared at him. “We have no future. When are you going to get that through your thick skull?”

  Christian threw up his hands in disgust. “You know your problem, lady? You really believe you can be perfect, if you just try hard enough.”

  “That’s not true, I—”

  “That’s why you can’t forgive yourself for Marion’s accident. That’s why you don’t call her and confess. Because you don’t want to accept that you’re fallible like the rest of us poor sinners. No, you’d rather sit on your little saint’s cloud, wringing your hands, than live a real life with me!”

  “You sanctimonious bastard!” Enraged, Kezia flew out of bed and tried to shunt him out the door. “Don’t you dare preach to me about self-forgiveness until you’ve visited your mother’s grave!”

  She regretted the words instantly, more so when Christian went very still. “I’m sorry, that was…” she wanted to say “unforgivable,” but that word had become too loaded. “Thoughtless.”

  His eyes flashed. “You’re the second person to accuse me of not dealing with my issues and I’ve had enough.” He turned and left.