Kiss Me, Kelly

by Mary Kay McComas

  “Two slow dances,” he said. The tone of his voice was a flat-out dare to accept his offer.

  “This better be some name, Baker.”

  “It’s Elgin.”

  A long silence followed his announcement while she tried to figure out whether or not he was lying to her. His face was inscrutable.

  “Elgin?” she asked, disbelieving. At his solemn nod, a tiny smile curved her lips. “Elgin is the name your mother gave you?”

  “Yes.”

  “She had a miserable pregnancy, huh? Maybe she wanted a girl, but got you instead? Maybe she wanted your name to rhyme with Belgium. Or maybe she thought a name like that would build your character, because somehow she knew that you’d grow up to wear a gun strapped to your ankle. Or maybe…”

  He took a long, stoic, and indulgent breath, then released it in the same manner. “Are you about finished?” he asked with great tolerance.

  “I don’t know,” she said, then giggled. “Elgin is pretty fertile territory. Do you have brothers?”

  “Two.”

  “Fergus and Isadore?”

  He took matters into his own hands by tangling his fingers in her hair and lowering her head to his shoulder. His embrace tightened as he shuffled his feet to the music.

  Kelly took the hint and fell silent. His name wasn’t going to change, and she could always get back to it later. It felt strange and awkward at first, being held intimately by a stranger, her breasts crushed against his rock-hard chest, his arms viselike. But once he had her cooperation, he slackened his hold and their bodies began to adjust and adapt on their own.

  A warm, satisfying feeling washed over her. Resting her head on his shoulder was comfortable, and she closed her eyes. The music, the heat from his body, the warm musky male odor, and the solid strength of his body played on her fatigue and lulled her into a dreamlike state. She sighed with contentment.

  “You feel good too,” he whispered in her ear.

  Kelly smiled lazily. “You’re conceited.”

  She felt him shake his head. “I’m honest.”

  She didn’t know him well enough to argue the point, so they danced in silence until she could think of something else to talk about. She needed to talk. She found it less stressful to talk to him while their thighs rubbed together in the most friendly of fashions than to clear her mind and let her emotions run wild.

  “I never did get to hear how you got Joey Hart today,” she said, pleased with the control she had over her senses as his hands burned into her back. She was aware of his chin and neck settled along the side of her face and the top of her head. Lord, it felt good to be in his arms, she thought, unable to help herself.

  The first song ended, but they didn’t stop dancing. Elgin Baker held fast to the soft, sinuous Kelly Branigan, letting his thoughts and desires roam free. He was contemplating a topple to the floor and a slow, earthshaking ravishment of her body when a moody B. B. King cadence filled the air around them. He felt her go rigid in his arms and laughed softly as he realized she’d lied to him, and why.

  “You’re a naughty girl, Kelly Branigan,” he said softly, provocatively.

  She shook her head once before she said, “I’m smart and I’m cautious.”

  He believed that and didn’t argue. She was sharp and she was very careful. He’d watched her all night as she ruled her domain with an iron hand covered in silk. She’d been tuned into her customers and anticipated their needs.

  Refills were set in front of patrons before they ordered them, and they didn’t even seem to notice. People were given menus before they asked for them. Drunks were poured into taxis and sent home before they became boisterous or rowdy.

  Granted, in a small neighborhood bar the customers were usually regulars who tended to be consistent in their habits, but still it had been interesting to watch her easily and unobtrusively control the crowd.

  She liked to be in control, he’d noticed. It was part of her life, which was probably why he so enjoyed the confusion and misgivings he was inspiring in her. He liked her confidence, but he also liked knowing he had the ability to make her feel vulnerable and powerless.

  Not that she really was vulnerable and powerless. She had a strength about her that he admired very much. She had opinions and a creed by which she lived. There was more to Kelly Branigan than the body that teased and enticed him. But it was through her body, which was defenseless and accessible to him, that he intended to find out exactly how deep her devotion to those she loved went, how far her beliefs in right and wrong could be stretched.

  “Aren’t you going to tell me about Joey Hart?” she asked. “I didn’t get to hear why you came here either.” She raised her head to look at him with eyes the color of Kentucky bourbon, flecks of gold giving them a molten appearance.

  He gently forced her head back to his shoulder, saying, “Not now. I waited all night for this dance. I don’t want to waste a second of it talking.”

  To emphasize his words, his hands roved up and down the length of her body, squeezing her closer than close.

  “They grow a lot of corn in Illinois, don’t they?” she mumbled against the stand-up collar of his cotton shirt.

  “Some. Why?” he asked, wondering at the odd question.

  “Because I think you’re full of it.”

  He lowered his head to get a better look at her face, and though she was smiling, he was still confused by her remark.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You. I hadn’t really thought about it until now, but I think you’re up to something.”

  “Why?” he asked, covering the turmoil he felt with a practiced skill.

  “Well, it seems a little strange that you could just fly in here from nowhere, nab Joey Hart, and become an instant hero. Then you walk into my bar and spend the whole night sipping two drinks, and when your ride home leaves you stay until after closing, talking to an old man about the ancient history of organized crime. All of that to con me into two dances?”

  “I didn’t con you. It was a fair deal,” he said, amused and delighted with her mental abilities. The idea that she would have made one hell of a cop came to mind, but under the circumstances he was damned glad she’d opted to tend bar.

  “I don’t think so.” She lifted her head again to smile at him. “You gave in to me too easily. If my name were Elgin, I’d have held out for higher stakes.”

  His brows rose in interest. “What kind of higher stakes?”

  “I don’t know. I guess that would depend on what you’re really up to.”

  Baker took several seconds to reevaluate the woman in his arms. No doubt about it, she was sharp. One part of him hated having to use her. He wanted to be truthful with her, tell her who he was, why he’d come to Brooklyn and into her bar, but there was a small matter of trust that had to be established first. The other part of him wanted to kiss her until her fertile mind went fallow.

  Decisions. Decisions.

  He bent his head and laid his lips tentatively against hers. They were as warm and soft as he had imagined, and when she didn’t pull away or try to scream down the house, he decided to try it again.

  He brushed his lips against hers once more, slow and sensuous. Kelly closed her eyes and wallowed in the pleasure his touch generated, while a yearning began to turn and twist deep inside of her. She opened her mouth invitingly, longing for a real kiss. A kiss that would satisfy her. He sipped gently on her lower lip and grazed his open mouth across hers, never quite making complete contact, tormenting her.

  She felt his hands as they curved lightly across her jaw and throat. He placed downy kisses on her cheekbones, her closed eyes, her forehead, then murmured, “Kiss me, Kelly.”

  Exhilaration and need swept through her. Instinct directed her lips to his. Something else, something more forceful, made her put her arms around his neck and press her body tightly against his. It let him sap her energy and drain away her inhibitions as his tongue wet her lips and tickled her palate. It
made her bold. It drove her berserk, like an itch she couldn’t reach.

  With a hand in her hair and another clasping her waist, he held her as if he intended never to let her go. The air grew thin and her heart hammered in a heat that was not weather-induced. He took pity on her and moved his attentions to the column of her neck while she gasped for air, then he returned to what was fast becoming his realm.

  When he finally ended the kiss, he left a void in her that nothing but his touch, the sound of his voice, or his physical presence could fill.

  He tenderly rearranged a few wayward curls and gazed at her face with wonder and uncertainty that she could identify with. A sliver of a smile crossed his lips before he asked, “Are the stakes high enough for you now?”

  She tried to squelch her feeling of panic. What had she done? How could she have let that happen? she asked herself, hard-pressed for an answer that would mollify the chaos her emotions were in. She didn’t know how to answer him. Her wit had withered and any serious remark would be unacceptable. So, she simply nodded. The stakes were plenty high now. In fact, they were too high.

  Three

  THE AIR CONDITIONER in Kelly’s bedroom window had at last put a chill in the air. But for most of the previous night she had tossed and turned in the sultry heat, her body feral in its demands for satisfaction, her mind wild in its confusion.

  She had betrayed two of her cardinal rules. Never get involved with a Good-Time-Charlie in the bar and never get involved with a cop. She had no idea of Elgin Baker’s intentions where she was concerned. Maybe he was serious. Maybe he was genuinely attracted to her. Maybe he wanted something meaningful to happen between them. As tempting as all those possibilities were, there was no getting around the fact that the man was a police officer…and therefore bad news, as far as Kelly was concerned.

  Dressed in knit shorts and a tank top, she packed a wraparound skirt, another cotton top, underwear, and a clean bath towel in her gym bag—she was playing racquetball with Angie that morning—before making her way down the back steps to the kitchen behind the bar.

  “’Morning, Bailey,” she greeted the huge, quiet black man. He was dicing potatoes and onions for Wednesday’s pot of potato soup. He barely glanced at her, but flicked his knife in the air by way of acknowledgment.

  “Is Papa down yet?”

  The knife pointed toward the bar door.

  “Is Hildie here too?”

  He nodded twice. Long-winded conversations were not Bailey’s specialty, cooking was. Although the variety of food served at The Library was limited, it was famous throughout the neighborhood for being well prepared and tasty. As a matter of fact, folks knew more about Bailey’s cooking than they did about him.

  Given Mike Branigan’s fondness for crooks and bad guys, Bailey had picked the right place to apply for work shortly after his release from prison. In the early days of his employment, he’d been Kelly’s worst nightmare and she’d avoided him like the plague. Gradually, over several years and after many situations in which he’d proven his loyalty and dependability, they had come to an understanding and she trusted him. She still had no notion of what he’d done to earn himself a prison sentence, but she didn’t really care anymore. He had become part of her family, and she accepted him without question.

  It was early and the bar hadn’t opened for the noon crowd. There had been several loud discussions a few years before when Kelly had insisted on cutting back the bar hours. She had been attending school part-time, and her mother had been working herself into an early grave trying to run the bar nineteen hours a day. Although always present and eager for the day to begin, her grandfather had become, less and less involved in the bar’s operations…even though he didn’t seem to realize it. He had put up a good fight to keep the bar open for the morning drinkers and the late-night lushes, but Kelly had held firm.

  With her mother gone, she had all the more reason to be glad of her decision. Public health and safety notwithstanding, a girl needed time for herself. Spending every waking moment in a dimly-lit bar wasn’t what she had planned for her life. Not that many of her plans had come to pass, but at least she didn’t have to feel like a mole.

  A solid swinging door stood between the back rooms and the bar. She wondered how many times in her life she’d laid her hand on that door to push her way to the other side. Then she smiled, realizing that the number of times she’d wondered about it was probably as staggering as the number of times she’d actually done it.

  The smile didn’t last long as she emerged at one end of the long mahogany bar to find Hildie behind the counter and her grandfather seated in his usual place, talking to Tommy Shaw and his new partner.

  “I thought we agreed not to let any bums in here before noon, Papa,” she said from behind them, afraid that if she didn’t speak, her thoughts would overcome her and she wouldn’t be able to talk at all. Lord knew, controlling her body wasn’t currently one of her strong points. Elgin Baker’s kiss had seen to that.

  “They came in the back, Kelly girl. Followed me in while I was taking out the trash,” her grandfather explained, the twinkle in his eyes the only indication of his drollery.

  “Well, you didn’t have to feed ’em,” she said, stepping behind the bar and viewing the remains of their early lunch…or late breakfast.

  She was aware that Elgin’s eyes had been tracking her since she first opened her mouth. She could feel the flush of self-consciousness in her cheeks and along the back of her neck, but she couldn’t make herself look at him.

  “Sure he had to feed us,” Tommy quipped. “You always gotta feed the messengers when they come bearing news.”

  “What news?”

  “Angie’s sick.”

  “What’s the matter with her?” she asked, concerned and disappointed at once.

  “Well, she thinks she has a summer flu because the kids were sick last week. Old Mike thinks she’s pregnant again. And I think she’s faking it so she can set you up with the daring young Baker, here.”

  Be pithy and flip, Kelly told herself, dragging her startled gaze from Elgin’s face to Tommy’s. Don’t let the smug expression get to you. If Elgin knew how his kiss had affected her, there was no telling what he’d try to get away with next.

  “Angie’s my friend. She wouldn’t try to set me up,” she said, filling a glass with orange juice for her breakfast. She stole a glance at Elgin and was perturbed to see that her slur hadn’t fazed him in the least. He just sat there, smiling. Like he knew exactly what she was thinking and feeling—and was glad about it.

  Tommy shrugged. “All’s I know is that when he came to pick me up this morning, the two of them had their heads together and real sudden like Angie was sick and this guy was volunteering to take her place for your racquetball game.” Tommy stated his facts simply and without much emotion as he smeared ketchup across his plate with a french fry, then popped the fry into his mouth.

  “She didn’t want you to be disappointed,” Elgin added.

  Kelly looked at him then. Outwardly, he appeared a little different than the night before. His clothes weren’t as new or as neatly pressed. His hair wasn’t as well groomed and he hadn’t shaved. He didn’t look like a police officer in his plain clothes. He didn’t look like Tuesday’s hero. He didn’t look like a threat to her emotional well-being. He didn’t look as if he could arouse pleasure and excitement in her that exceeded her wildest dreams. He didn’t look like…

  He was looking at her like he could swallow her whole in one gulp. She watched as he diligently noted the fit of her tank top and the length of her shorts.

  “Well, life’s full of little disappointments,” she said. “Thanks, anyway.”

  “No problem,” he said. “I haven’t had a good workout since I left Chicago. The two of us can work up a good sweat together.” He arched a brow to imply that he wasn’t necessarily referring to the racquetball game, and the temperature in the bar seemed to soar a hundred degrees.

  His comment was c
rude, and was most likely quite prophetic, but it was the way he said it that irritated her. So bold, so sure of himself. She should never have let him kiss her, she thought with great hindsight. One little kiss and he assumed that everything between them would simply fall his way like a stack of dominoes. Oh, she was going to enjoy popping this little boy’s balloon, she decided.

  “I never sweat,” she said, challenging the dare that glimmered in his eyes.

  “You’ve never played with me before,” he answered.

  “Don’t you have to work sometime today?” Maybe she’d been a little too hasty.

  “Who? Golden Boy?” Tommy asked, astonished. “The captain was serving this guy kudos for breakfast this morning. Made the rest of us look like chopped liver. “He smiled pathetically and added, “Do it for me, Kel. He hasn’t taken a whole day off in the three weeks he’s been here. I’d like to go home for a couple of hours—see if my kids remember me.”

  Sometimes, Kelly thought, she felt like the whole world was conspiring against her, and she was losing.

  “I only know of one gym with a court around here,” she said, semi-resigned to her fate, “and they run a pretty tight schedule. Can you be ready by eleven-thirty?” She picked up her bag, preparing to go someplace, anyplace where he wasn’t.

  “I’m always ready,” he said, smiling a smile that was too charming for her composure.

  “Of course you are.” She tilted her head and served him a smile of her own that could have put frost on the windows. She’d play ball with him, just this once, but she wasn’t going to enjoy it.

  Kelly hardly had time to fortify herself before Elgin Baker returned. Standing in the doorway to her apartment, he was dressed as he had been before, but carried a grocery bag that no doubt held some clothes. A small bouquet of brightly colored summer flowers, too, was in his hand.

  “I felt like I ought to buy something to get this biodegradable gym bag,” he said, “and I thought maybe you’d like these.” He held the flowers out to her, his expression bordering on uncertainty.