She flattened her palms on the polished mahogany of the vanity’s surface and stared at her reflection in the oval mirror. What was wrong with her? Gage’s sex life—or lack thereof—was none of her business. She’d never even thought of him and sex in the same breath—not ever.
She avoided her eyes in the mirror, afraid of what she might see in them.
Kelsey began rearranging the scattering of toiletries on top of the vanity, her movements quick and tense. She was just worried about Gage. Gage didn’t know Clair, couldn’t know what she was like. She could be hard on the men in her life. She expected a great deal from them but wasn’t willing to give much herself, which might be at least as much to blame for the failure of her marriage as her ex-husband’s fondness for his ancestors.
Kelsey opened the top drawer of the vanity and began rearranging its contents, setting the hairbrush at precise right angles to the box of hairpins, lining her hair clips up in neatly regimented rows.
If she was having a little trouble sleeping, it was just that she was concerned that Gage might get hurt. She picked up a tube of lotion that she’d bought and used once, only to discover that the scent reminded her of overcooked cabbage. And Clair was recently divorced and far from ready to begin a new relationship. The lotion was lined up next to the hairbrush, faceup so that she could see the name clearly. Since she’d introduced the two of them, it was only natural that she’d feel a bit responsible for the outcome of their relationship.
It was a relief to have an explanation for the tangle of emotions that had her awake and rearranging drawers at almost one o’clock in the morning. Being concerned about her friends’ happiness was a legitimate excuse for insomnia. It was practically noble of her to be worried about them.
And it was so much safer than thinking that she was jealous of Clair or feeling possessive of Gage. What a ridiculous idea that was!
Kelsey had nearly finished her compulsive reorga- nization of the drawer when she heard the quiet thud of the front door closing.
He was home! She hadn’t heard his car, but since her bedroom was in the back of the house, that wasn’t surprising. Her first reaction was relief, so strong that she knew she should be worried by the sheer intensity of it. But for the moment, it was enough to know that he was home, to know he hadn’t spent the night with Clair.
Hard on the heels of relief came panic. He had to go past her door to get to the old sun porch that had been converted to a bedroom when he began paying rent. He’d see the light on and think she’d been waiting up for him like a maiden aunt—or a jealous lover.
For a moment, Kelsey stood frozen in place, like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. The creak of a floorboard galvanized her into action. She slid the drawer shut abruptly enough to instantly scramble its contents and nearly knocked over the lamp while trying to turn it off. Half convinced that some form of X-ray vision would enable Gage to see through walls and reveal that she wasn’t in her bed where any sane woman would be at one o’clock in the morning, Kelsey made a mad dash for the bed. She forgot about the shoes she’d left carelessly lying on the floor until her foot came down on one of them.
She barely managed to muffle her startled shriek when she felt herself start to fall. A second later, she was facedown in the thick, feathery softness of her comforter. But there was no time to give thanks for her gentle landing. She scrambled up the bed, diving under the comforter and pulling it up to her chin.
And then she lay there, staring at the door, holding her breath, her ears so full of the drumming of her own pulse that it was unlikely she’d be able to hear anything less than a dance company wearing tap shoes jogging through the hallway, let alone one man wearing dress shoes. When she heard Gage’s bedroom door close a few moments later, the barely audible sound acted like a dash of cold water.
Like a videotape playing on a television screen, Kelsey saw the past few minutes as if from outside herself. Good grief, what was the matter with her? She felt a flush start at her toes and work its way up to her face. Had she lost her mind? If Gage had been a werewolf come to devour her, she couldn’t have reacted with more panic.
Her mouth twitched at the image of herself falling over her own shoes, diving under the covers, her heart pounding like that of a schoolgirl caught sneaking home after curfew. A giggle escaped her, loud in the quiet room. She must have looked like a madwoman, she thought, remembering the way she arranged her hair clips with mathematical precision. Kelsey turned, burying her face in her pillow to muffle the sound of her giggles.
* * *
“It’s not as if I didn’t throw myself at him,” Clair said. A note of self-mockery came clearly through the phone line.
“You threw yourself at him?” Kelsey’s casual tone of voice was belied by her tight grip on the receiver.
“Shamelessly,” Clair admitted without embarrassment. “I mean, it’s been a long time since I saw quite so much man just walking around loose and unattached. The guy makes the Marlboro Man look like a weeny with a mustache.”
“I thought you preferred suave European types.” Kelsey twitched the kitchen curtain open to get a better view of the site of the new greenhouse. Gage had borrowed a small backhoe—a toy, he called it—and was leveling the site, preparatory to digging a foundation.
“I had enough of suave and European during my marriage,” Clair said, and Kelsey forced her eyes away from Gage. “From now, I’m a strictly ‘buy American’ kind of girl. If I could lay my hands on a domestic model as gorgeous as Gage Walker, why bother with imports?”
Kelsey laughed, as she knew she was supposed to, but she felt a twinge of irritation at the way Clair made Gage sound like the latest model to roll off a Detroit assembly line. Yes, he was an attractive man but he was also kind and caring and had a great sense of humor. And he deserved someone who appreciated those qualities in him, as well as the more obvious physical attributes.
“It’s nice to know you appreciate a man for more than surface qualities,” she said dryly.
“The surface is the only thing you can be sure of,” Clair said, and there was a wry note in her voice that said she’d learned that lesson the hard way. “Besides, a surface like Gage’s is so eminently lookable.”
Kelsey couldn’t argue with that statement. She just wished that she wasn’t suddenly conscious of just how lookable he was. She realized that she was watching him again and turned her back to the window. Annoyed with herself for her preoccupation, she spoke without thinking.
“So why don’t you go for it?” she asked Clair. “You’re both past the age of consent and free of entanglements. There’s nothing stopping you.”
Have you lost your mind? a small voice of reason shrieked. Clair was all wrong for Gage. He needed... Kelsey’s thoughts stumbled as she tried to come up with just what kind of a woman would be right for Gage. Nothing came to mind, but she knew he needed someone other than Clair DiMera, née Miller.
“You haven’t been listening, Kelsey,” Clair said reproachfully. “I threw myself at him, but he wasn’t interested in catching.”
“He wasn’t?” Kelsey realized her tone held an inappropriate note of cheer and tried again. “I find that hard to believe.” Which was nothing less than the truth. For as long as she’d known Clair, she couldn’t ever remember seeing a man resist the other woman’s efforts to charm him.
“Thank you for the kind words. It’s too bad Gage doesn’t think I’m as irresistible as you do. Maybe you should point out the error of his ways,” Clair suggested lightly.
“I don’t think Gage would appreciate having me interfere in his love life,” Kelsey said.
“Probably not.” Clair sighed. “Men tend to think they actually know what they’re doing when it comes to that sort of thing. Poor, delusional creatures.”
Kelsey’s laugh was more genuine this time. She really did like Clair. And she refused to think that her sudden affection for her old friend had anything to do with the fact that she and Gage were not an item.
“I don’t know how you’ve done it,” Clair said.
“Done what?” Kelsey asked absently.
Gage had gotten off the backhoe and was bent over, looking at something on one of the tires. The faded denim of his jeans molded his lean hips and clung to the muscled length of his legs in a way that was certainly illegal somewhere.
“I don’t know how you’ve managed to share a house with the man for four years and not jump his bones.”
“Not all of us are ruled by our hormones.” Kelsey turned her back on the window, thankful that Clair couldn’t see the sudden rush of color in her cheeks.
“If you can live with Gage Walker for four years and not knock him over the head and drag him into your bed, you don’t have any hormones.”
“I just don’t think of him that way,” Kelsey said repressively. At least, she didn’t usually think of him that way, she added to herself. It was only recently that her thoughts had started drifting in new directions.
“What other way is there to think of a man that gorgeous?” Clair asked with such exaggerated amazement that Kelsey laughed.
“Did anyone ever tell you that you’ve got a one-track mind? If you were a man, you’d be a sexist pig.”
“I don’t see any reason why a woman can’t be a sexist pig,” Clair said thoughtfully. “Isn’t that what equal rights are all about?”
Kelsey was smiling when she hung up the phone a few minutes later. It really was great to have Clair living nearby again. After she’d married Rick and left Minnesota, they’d corresponded, but letters just weren’t the same. She’d almost forgotten how much fun Clair could be.
Her main interest at the moment seemed to be in finding a man to fill the gap left by her divorce. Kelsey shook her head. It was funny, but for all her sophistication and experience, Clair didn’t seem to feel complete without a man in her life. The ink was hardly even dry on her divorce decree, and she was already looking for someone new.
As long as that someone wasn’t Gage, Kelsey wished her luck.
She realized that she was staring out the window at him again but she didn’t move away. He really was a very attractive man. Tall, dark and handsome—the cliché could have been invented to describe Gage Walker.
His thick, dark hair practically invited a woman to run her fingers through it. His shoulders were broad and solid muscle, the kind of shoulders that made a woman feel safe and protected—sheltered. In contrast, his blue eyes offered anything but safety. They held a wicked promise. If the serpent looked at Eve with eyes like that, it was no wonder she took the apple.
She was unaware of her own wistful sigh as she turned away from the window.
* * *
Gage saw Kelsey walking toward him with a familiar amber-colored bottle in her hand and reached down to turn off the ignition switch. The engine snorted and snuffled, like a hound complaining about being dragged away from a bowl of kibbles, and then died, leaving behind a welcome silence. He tugged off his baseball cap—a black model adorned with a portrait of Mickey Mouse, a gift from Danny—and hung it over the gearshift before he stepped down off the backhoe.
“You’re a lifesaver,” he told Kelsey as she reached him. He took the bottle from her and lifted it to his mouth.
“I thought you might be a little thirsty,” she said dryly when he lowered the half-empty bottle.
“Just a little.” He grinned at her, and she felt a sudden flash of sympathy for Clair. A man with a grin like that really ought to be forced to wear a warning label: Caution—Potential For Heartbreak Ahead.
“So what do you think of the site for your new greenhouse?” He used the bottle to gesture to the bare ground in front of them.
“It looks great. If I’d known how much work it was going to be, I wouldn’t have let you talk me into getting it. You’re going to spend your whole vacation building my greenhouse. Talk about a busman’s holiday.”
“I don’t mind.” Gage surveyed the site with obvious satisfaction. “I usually just see a part of any one job. It’s nice to work on something a little smaller.”
“So what you’re saying is that you’re actually enjoying being out here in the hot sun, muscling that machine around in the dust and the heat?”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” he admitted with another grin. “Besides, the wages ain’t bad.” He lifted the bottle for emphasis.
“Top wages, I’m sure,” Kelsey said dryly.
“You might be surprised what a man will do for a cold beer on a hot day.” He tilted his head back as he brought the bottle to his mouth.
Kelsey watched his throat work as he swallowed, her eyes drifting downward to where a tuft of dark, curly hair rose above the neckline of his faded gray tank top. Sweat had plastered the age-thinned fabric to the muscles of his chest.
He was absolutely, ridiculously male, and Kelsey felt an odd shifting in the pit of her stomach, something that could have been—but wasn’t—awareness of him on a male-female level. Clair was right—he did make the Marlboro Man look like a weeny. If he hadn’t been such a good friend...
“How was your date with Clair?” she blurted out, made uneasy by the direction her own thoughts.
“You asked me that this morning,” Gage reminded her as he lowered the bottle. But he was willing to answer it again. “It was fine.”
“I forgot,” she lied. “I went to bed early, so I don’t know what time you got home.”
His brows arched a little as if he were puzzled by her interest in his social schedule, but he answered easily enough. “Twelve-thirty or so, I guess.”
Kelsey could have corrected him. It had been 12:51, give or take thirty seconds. Not that she’d been counting. She looked past him, focusing her gaze on the backhoe as if fascinated by the scuffed yellow paint.
“I thought you might be out later.”
“Dinner and a movie,” he said with a shrug. “Not exactly an all-night affair.”
The word affair made her wince, but she refused to let it deter her. She’d made up her mind that there were things that needed to be said, things that should have been said years ago.
“I thought you might go back to Clair’s place—for coffee,” she clarified hastily. “That could have run much later.”
“Why do I have the sensation that I’m talking to my mother?” Gage asked quizzically.
Kelsey flushed and dragged her eyes back to his face. Obviously it was time to stop beating around the bush and just get the words out. He was looking at her as if he had doubts about her sanity. Who could blame him? She’d had a few doubts herself lately.
“I just wanted you to know that, if you did want to stay out later—all night, even—it’s none of my business.”
“Damn, it really is my mother.” But there was a darker undercurrent to his light tone that Kelsey chose to ignore.
“We’ve never talked about it and we should have. I’ve never given it much thought, but obviously you’ve got a life to live.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You don’t answer to me,” she persevered, pretending she hadn’t heard him. “And I don’t want you to think that I expect you to keep...particular hours or anything,” she finished lamely.
There was a long silence—an uncomfortable one, which was a rarity between the two of them.
“Does this mean I don’t have a curfew anymore?” Gage’s tone was less than amused, and Kelsey felt herself flushing.
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“No? It sounded suspiciously like you were giving me permission to sleep with your friend Clair.”
“Not Clair! I mean, not with Clair, specifically. I just meant...I wanted...” Her voice trailed off as she realized the impossibility of explaining just what it was she’d meant and wanted.
She couldn’t bring herself to lift her eyes any higher than the pulse that beat at the base of his throat. Why on earth had she started this conversation? It had seemed so important to let him know that she didn’t
mind if he had a life apart from her and Danny. Or had she been trying to make that point with herself?
“You know what I meant,” she muttered when he didn’t seem inclined to break the silence.
“I think I’ve got a pretty clear picture.” Gage downed the last of the beer and set the empty bottle on the backhoe. Hooking his thumbs in the back pockets of his jeans, he stared down at her.
Kelsey glanced up at his face and then away, swallowing a little at the expression in his eyes. He looked very large, very male and very irritated. This had not been one of her better ideas. Gage obviously agreed.
“What you’re trying to tell me is that if I want to have wild, mindless sex with a woman I don’t know, I don’t have to call to let you know I’m going to be late.”
Kelsey’s flush deepened painfully. It would have been impossible to say which bothered her more: the heavy sarcasm in his tone or the image of Gage’s having wild, mindless sex with another woman.
“That’s not what I meant,” she mumbled, knowing it was more or less what she’d meant.
“Does the lecture on safe sex come next?” he asked in a ferociously light tone. “Aren’t you going to caution me about the hazards of dating in the nineties?”
Gage wasn’t sure why he was so angry. There was something about having Kelsey tell him that she didn’t mind if he wanted to spend the night with another woman that touched a nerve.
“I didn’t mean to make it sound as if I was giving you permission to spend the night with someone,” she protested. “I was just trying to tell you that I wouldn’t...that it’s not... Oh, hell. I’m not doing this very well.” She stared down at her feet, poking the toe of her sandal in the raw dirt.
“It depends on what you’re trying to do.”
Gage’s anger was tempered by her obvious discomfort. Or maybe it was that he’d been suddenly struck by how vulnerable she looked. Her hair was drawn up in a ponytail, leaving baby-fine curls of pale gold lying against her nape. He had a sudden memory of what it had felt like to slide his fingers through those curls, to curve his palm around the back of her neck. A year and a half later, the memories were sharp and vivid. He looked away from her, his anger muffled by discomfort at the direction his thoughts were taking.
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