by Francis Ray
Kara opened her mouth to say she hadn’t promised the spa, but she let it go. She had to get out of there. She reached for the door handle. “I’ll bring you a plate.”
“Don’t listen to me. You never did anyway and see what happened? Mark my word, they’re using you. He’s using those paintings to get what he wants. His mother will probably only give you a pittance of what she gets for them,” her mother warned.
Keep walking, Kara told herself. Her mother just wanted to hurt her, make her doubt herself. Opening the front door, she went down the steps and continued onto the sidewalk. Three boys skateboarding and yelling momentarily snagged her attention. She didn’t believe she’d ever been that carefree and happy.
A warm, calloused hand closed around her upper forearm. Startled, she swung around and saw Tristan. The teasing smile on his face faded. She’d wondered how she’d feel when she saw him again. Now she knew. She wanted to crawl up in his lap and cry.
“What’s the matter?”
Too many things to count.
“Kara, are you all right?”
How can I be when my mother hates me?
He gently loosened her grip on the carrier handle. “I’ll take this. Where were you headed?”
She swallowed, swallowed again. She would not cry. She would not. “Sabrina’s house. Two doors down on the right.”
He took her elbow and continued in the direction she had been going. “Glad I’m here in time to get a slice of cake. I bet you’re a fabulous cook. Across the street, they’re setting up a net. Can I hope it’s for volleyball?”
He wasn’t prying. He was trying to help, although since he’d met her mother he probably had a good idea what the problem was. “Badminton.”
“Do you play?” he asked, going up the steps of Sabrina’s house.
With each step, the knot in her chest and her throat lessened. “Yes.”
“I bet I can take you.”
She stopped, stared at him, and then looked away.
“What is it?” he asked, his hand rubbing up and down her bare arm, sending heat rippling in its wake.
Finally, she faced him. “My mother thinks that’s what you plan to do. Take me.”
His green-eyed gaze remained direct. “What do you think?”
“Hello, Kara. Young man,” an elderly man greeted as he went up the walk of the house next door. “Save me and Sheila a piece of that cake.”
“Yes, sir.” Kara waved to Mr. Golden who had a bag of ice in each hand. He and his wife had been the first to welcome her parents to the neighborhood, the first ones to offer help when her father became bedridden. Whatever they needed, the Goldens were there for them. “I will,” she said, and then faced Tristan. “It might have taken me awhile, but I trust you. You want me in your bed, but you won’t use my art to get me there.”
The tightness eased only marginally around his mouth. She frowned. “I said I trust you.”
The fingers of his free hand trailed down the curve of her cheek. “You shouldn’t have to defend me or your art.”
She shivered and briefly tucked her head. That was the same thing Sabrina said, but they didn’t have to live with her mother. Kara wished she didn’t either. She should feel ashamed of such thoughts, but she couldn’t. “We better get this inside.”
Unmoved, he stared at her a long moment. “You and me. Badminton before the day is over.”
He wasn’t going to let her hide from him or shut him out. She was slowly learning that he was someone you could trust to always be there for you, no matter what. “You’re on,” she said, trying to smile and failing miserably.
Behind her, she heard the rumble of a powerful engine and turned. “He came.”
* * *
Tristan stared at the expensive black foreign car as the driver whipped into the driveway. The skateboarders stared in awe. “Before I go macho, please tell me you aren’t interested in him.”
Before she could answer, the door behind them opened and a young woman rushed onto the porch. Speaking to Tristan and Kara as she passed, she continued to the man climbing out of the low-slung car. “Cade, you’re here! Thank goodness.”
“What is it?” Cade asked, straightening and slamming the car door.
The woman caught his hand and started back up the walk. “The fire, what else? Don’t fuss. I thought I could do it. I’m supposed to grill the franks and burgers for the block party.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, nodding to Tristan and Kara as he passed.
“Does that answer your question?” Kara asked, a tiny smile on her face.
His arm curved around her shoulders, glad to see the semblance of a smile. It was a start. “Then he can live.”
Seeing the teasing glint in his eyes pulled a real smile from her. She could either enjoy herself or be miserable—just as her mother wanted. “I’m glad you came.”
“Me too.”
Fifteen
Sabrina didn’t stop until she stood in front of the grill. “I started the fire an hour ago. I thought I just needed to let the coals cook longer or something like you did. But…” She lifted the top.
The coals, peeking though a mound of scorched wood chips, looked as if they’d just been poured from the bag. “I looked out about fifteen minutes ago and I thought, because it wasn’t smoking, it was doing okay.”
“When did you put the wood chips on top?” Cade asked, using the end of a twig he’d picked up to push the chips aside.
“After it flamed up a bit,” she said, then hurriedly added when he stared at her, “They were in a pan and I kind of tossed them on and closed the lid. I messed up.”
He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Building a good fire takes practice. It didn’t help that the vents are closed. The fire simply smothered out.”
She looked up at him with wide, beseeching eyes. “Cade, I promised. What will I do? I don’t want to let everyone down. This is my first get-together. All of my neighbors have been so good to me. They had a party to welcome me to the neighborhood. When we had the last power failure, three men came over to check on me.”
She’d turned to him for help. It meant more to him than he wanted to admit. His patients and their families wanted his help, but it would benefit them. Sabrina wanted it to repay her neighbors for welcoming her.
He didn’t know one resident in Navarone Place. There was a monthly tenant meeting, but he’d never bothered to attend. He spoke to people on the elevator—if they spoke to him first. He didn’t engage in conversation with them and, if they tried, he always gave short, one-syllable answers.
He caressed her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I sort of took precautions in case something happened. Come on.” Without thought, he took her hand and headed toward the sliding back door.
Outside, the three skateboarders had been joined by several other men. Cade nodded. Sabrina waved and spoke.
Opening the trunk of his car, Cade took out two twenty-pound bags of charcoal and then handed a large can of lighter fluid to Sabrina. “We’ll have the fire going in no time.”
“Thank you.” She pressed the container to her chest as if it were flowers.
“Mister, how fast will it go?” one of the teenagers asked.
“Two-twenty,” Cade answered.
Appreciative comments floated around those staring at the car as Cade and Sabrina went back inside. In the backyard, Tristan and Kara waited.
“You must be Tristan,” Sabrina greeted as she passed them. “As soon as we get this fire started, we’ll introduce everyone.”
“Do you need any help?” Tristan asked.
“Thanks. Cade, do we need anything?” Sabrina asked, looking up at Cade.
Cade sat the charcoal on the ground. “Something to scoop the charcoal out and something that won’t burn to put it in.”
“I’ve got a spade. There’s a ceramic planter by the fireplace that I bought and never put anything in,” Sabrina said.
“I’ll get them,” Kara said.
“I
’ll help.” Tristan followed.
“With everyone helping and you telling us what to do, I’ll be cooking in no time,” Sabrina said happily.
Kara handed the spade to Cade. Sabrina wrinkled her nose. “I wanted to do this myself.”
“Here you go.” Tristan placed the light blue planter beside the grill.
“Thanks.” In a matter of minutes Cade had replaced and lit the charcoal. “In ten minutes it should be ready to cook the meat. Start with the burgers because they’ll take longer.”
Sabrina hugged him. “Thank you. Now, I won’t have to hide my face when I see my neighbors.”
“They would have understood,” Kara said. “They still talk about Mrs. Golden substituting salt for sugar when she made the lemonade and tea last year.”
“Still.” Sabrina straightened away from Cade. He felt bereft. “I’ll get the tablecloths.”
“I’ll help,” Kara offered.
“I’d say you saved the day,” Tristan said when the women walked away.
“Sabrina isn’t much on grilling or cooking, but she likes people and hates to disappoint them.”
“Kara is the same way.”
“I know. Kara and Sabrina work together at the hospital.”
“Do you work there as well?” Tristan asked.
“Yes.” Cade stuck out his hand. “Cade Mathis.”
“Tristan Landers.”
The back door opened and out came Kara with an armload of tablecloths and napkins. Tristan moved to help.
“Dr. Mathis, Sabrina is finishing the patties. She could probably use some help.”
“Doctor? You didn’t mention you were a doctor,” Tristan said.
Cade shrugged carelessly. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not sure how much I can help, but I’ll go see. Excuse me.”
“You can’t be any worse than Sabrina,” Kara said to his retreating back and spread the tablecloth. Laughing, Tristan reached for the other end.
* * *
Inside the kitchen, Cade discovered Sabrina slicing onions and blinking back tears. She really needed help. “I’m told holding a piece of bread in your mouth helps,” he advised.
“Then please stuff a slice in my mouth.” She closed her eyes. “I’ll certainly appreciate onions served at a restaurant much more.”
Removing a slice of bread from the bag on the counter, Cade tore it in half and held it out to Sabrina. She opened her mouth, biting down. Her lips brushed against his finger. They both jumped. Their eyes met, clung. “Later,” he promised.
The phone rang on the counter. “Please get that.”
Cade picked up the phone. “Sabrina Thomas’s residence.”
“Who’s speaking please?”
“A friend. Cade Mathis. Who’s this?”
“Her mother. Christine Thomas.”
“Hello, Mrs. Thomas. Just a moment please.” He held out the phone to Sabrina, but she had already snatched a paper towel to clean her hands. “Hi, Mother. Kind of busy here preparing the food for the block party I told you about.”
“Is he anyone special?” her mother asked.
“Mother, I have thirty or more hungry people descending on me in less than thirty minutes,” Sabrina said, tossing a quick glance at Cade who was rolling up his sleeves. “And I’m still cutting vegetables.” She slapped her hand over the receiver. “What are you doing?”
“Helping you cut up the vegetables. Where can I wash up?”
“You’re a guest. Doing the fire was enough.”
“Sabrina, what is going on?” her mother asked.
“Love you, Mother. I’ll call later.” Sabrina hung up. “Really, Cade. This I can do.”
“Your guests will be here soon. You can’t grill and prepare things in here as well.”
She blew out a breath. “I wanted to do this myself.”
He went to her. “Why is it so important?”
“To prove I’m not completely hopeless in the kitchen,” she told him.
“Hopeless is not a word anyone who knows you would ever associate with you. If I or Kara needed help, would you think less of us if we asked for it?”
“Of course not,” she answered.
“Then where do I wash up? And do I grill or slice?” he asked. “I’m good at both.”
“You can use the sink over there. The burgers are in the refrigerator.” She picked up the onion. “Thank you.”
“You can thank me later,” he said, his voice stroking her, heating her body, leaving no doubt as to how he wanted her thanks.
She grinned. “Count on it.”
* * *
Tristan had gotten his badminton game, and planned to take Kara home with him before the day was over. He hated seeing the defeat in her beautiful eyes where there had been so much passion and happiness last night. He knew the reason for her unhappiness, her mother.
Kara took her responsibilities seriously. No matter how much the situation saddened her, she was sticking. All he could do was to be there for her. There was no way he was letting her mother keep them apart. It wasn’t just the sex, although it had been incredible, Kara drew him. She was an amazing woman. He’d keep telling her until she believed him.
From the sideline, women, especially Sabrina, cheered Kara, while the men cheered Tristan on. The score between him and Kara was tied. He grinned and sent the shuttlecock back over the net, enjoying her laughter as much as the agile quickness of her long legs, legs he kept remembering wrapped around him last night as he pumped deep into her.
Suddenly, the laughter left her face. She straightened, the racket clutched in her hand. The shuttlecock fell unnoticed to the lawn. Groans came from the women. Kara didn’t seem to notice as she stared across the street. Tristan cursed, knowing before he turned he’d see her mother.
Mrs. Simmons, her face unsmiling, stood on the porch, both hands propped on the cane she leaned on. Tristan wondered briefly how Kara had managed to grow up so caring when her mother treated her like a hired servant.
“I’m sorry. I need to check on her,” Kara said.
“I’ll go,” Sabrina said, already walking away. “You stay and finish the game.”
Kara shook her head. “No.”
“You both stay,” Mrs. Golden told them. “Your mama probably wants to watch the game.”
With a resigned expression, Kara handed the racket to Sabrina. “Finish the game for me,” she said, then briefly touched Mrs. Golden’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
“You coming back?” Tristan asked.
Kara swallowed, her smile tremulous. “Probably not. Good-bye.” Her hands clenched, she crossed the street.
“Beer and cards at our house,” Mr. Golden said to the milling crowd. “Sheila and I are defending our reign as bid wiz champions. Who wants to fall first?”
The neighbors moved away, laughing, making bets, but not until Kara and her mother had gone inside. It seemed that Tristan wasn’t the only one who noticed her mother’s less than caring attitude.
“Why does she do that?” Sabrina asked, anger in her voice. Out of the corner of his eye, Tristan saw Cade curve his arm around her shoulders. Tristan wasn’t sure if she meant Kara or her mother; either way it came down to the same thing.
He wasn’t seeing Kara again tonight. Unless. He pulled out his cell phone. Kara’s mother wasn’t the only one who could pull out the big guns.
* * *
Less than thirty minutes later, Vera’s red Mercedes roadster convertible stopped in front of Sabrina’s house. Tristan, Cade, and Sabrina met her on the sidewalk.
“Hi, Vera,” Tristan said, and introduced everyone. “Security let Cade drive his car because he’s a doctor. How did you get past?”
Vera, beautiful in an Oscar de la Renta print, lifted a regal brow. “I simply showed him my heels.”
Sabrina grinned. “Once he put his tongue back in his mouth he waved you on.”
Vera smiled. “What’s the use of looking good if no one notices?”
“There is that,” Sab
rina said. “Tristan, I don’t think Kara’s mother has a chance.”
“We’re going to find out.” He nodded down the street. “Two houses down. I’d take you, but she doesn’t like me.”
Anger flared in Vera’s brown eyes. “Oh?”
Tristan felt better with each passing second. His mother was fiercely protective of him.
“Let me handle this.” Getting back in the car, she drove away and parked in Kara’s driveway. Picking up the Nancy Gonzalez clutch from the passenger seat, she went up the walk.
Tristan folded his arms and glanced at his watch. “Ten minutes top. Kara’s mother won’t know what hit her.”
* * *
Kara heard the doorbell and tensed. Please don’t let it be Tristan, she thought. Her mother had finally stopped talking about the spectacle Kara had made of herself playing badminton. The doorbell rang again.
Her mother came out of her room. She didn’t say a word. Her face said it all.
Rubbing her hand on her pants, Kara went to the door and opened it. Her mouth gaped.
“Hello, Kara. Can I come in?”
“Who is it?” her mother called.
Kara snapped her mouth shut. She didn’t know how to answer. Nor could she close the door in Vera’s face. Indecision and dread kept her immobile.
“Who are you?” Hazel asked, from behind Kara.
“Vera Fiore, an interior designer, working with your talented daughter.” Vera glanced over Kara’s shoulder. “You must be her mother, Mrs. Simmons. Is it all right if I park in your driveway?”
Hazel stepped around Kara, saw the expensive sports car, then snapped her gaze back to Vera. Her mother’s entire demeanor changed. “Of course. Kara, get out of the way and let her in out of the heat.”
Kara opened the door, caught between embarrassment that her mother’s greed was so obvious and hope that Vera’s showing up meant Kara might see Tristan tonight.
“Would you like a glass of iced tea?” Kara asked, waving Vera to a chair.
“No, thank you, Kara.” Vera sank gracefully in the dark, floral-print side chair. In her colorful print dress, the dark furniture looked even worse. “I realize how busy weekends are, but I wanted to drop by and take Kara to see some of the designer pieces I plan to pair her art with. The million-dollar spec home I’m in charge of decorating is fabulous and the perfect place to showcase Kara’s work.”
