by Judy Duarte
She followed his gaze to the damp splotch on her chest, where the red wine had soaked into pale yellow linen.
Brett—or was it Luke?—came bounding toward her. “I’ll get the glass picked up. But you’d better get that dress rinsed.”
“It’s all right,” she said, although she doubted the stain would come out.
“Are you sure you’re not hurt?” Joe stroked her arm, sending a shimmy of heat through her blood.
She shook off her reaction to his touch. “Don’t worry about it. I’m tough. Really.”
“Come on.” Joe took her by the hand, his grip much larger than she remembered. Much warmer. More gentle.
“You’ll find club soda in the bar,” Harry said from where he stood at the grill. “That ought to get the stain out.”
“I’ve got a product that can clean anything,” Kay said, as she made her way toward the house. “Let me get it for you, as well as something to wear. You’ll need to soak that dress.”
Joe led Kristin into the kitchen, where he looked at her as though he’d just run over his dog. He lifted a hand to her hair, touched the strands. His fingers drifted to her cheek, as those topaz-colored eyes snagged hers. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
She nodded, unable to tear her gaze from his. Their movements froze, momentarily, until he broke the visual connection and glanced down at her chest.
He touched the spot, right over her left breast, where the merlot had absorbed into the cloth, his fingers warming her to the bone.
Her heart thudded in her chest, as though intending to leap right out of her body. Could he hear the darn thing pounding? She didn’t doubt it. Her pulse was thumping in her head like a runaway train.
Neither of them spoke or moved. They just stood there, caught up in something odd. Something warm and sweet, something hot and wild.
Something totally out of line.
Kristin had a fiancé, for goodness sake. A man who thought she was home taking care of her ailing father, not stirring up old memories and forbidden passion with an old lover.
She laughed and stepped back. “It’s all right. Really. I can get this.”
Joe opened his mouth, as though intending to speak, then snapped it shut. He nodded instead, then left her alone in the kitchen.
What was that all about? Had Joe been rattled by the touch, the intimacy? Had he felt that same sensual connection?
It would seem so.
But Kristin had no desire to strike up that kind of a relationship with her son’s father. Not when Dr. Dylan Montgomery was the man in her life.
What kind of stupid was that?
Kristin was an engaged woman. A happily engaged woman. She blew out a ragged sigh and glanced down at her damp chest, where she could still feel the warmth of Joe’s hand.
And where red wine marred her dress like a blazing scarlet letter.
Chapter Five
If Bobby noticed the awkward silence between the adults on the way back to Joe’s condo, Kristin certainly couldn’t tell by his happy chatter. He’d obviously had a great time at the barbecue.
And so had Kristin. Other than that embarrassing tumble and the sexual reaction she’d had to Joe’s concern, his scent, his touch.
She studied her lap, particularly the bright floral material of the pants Kay had loaned her—pants that had been too big at the waist. Of course, a safety pin and an oversize pink T-shirt hid that.
But the pants weren’t very stylish—at least, not by a younger woman’s standards. And the hem hit too high above the ankles.
Of course, that didn’t mean Kristin didn’t appreciate Kay loaning the clothes to her so she could soak her dress in that super-duper stain remover the older woman swore by.
Kristin took a quick peek at Joe and tried to guess what he was thinking or feeling and had no luck at all. Was he bothered by the sensual connection they’d shared this afternoon?
Had it unnerved him as badly as it had her?
Or was he trying to put some distance between them, afraid that she’d think he still felt something for her when, eight years ago, he’d made it clear that he didn’t.
Surely not. He knew that she had a fiancé. And she knew he had someone, too. Joe Davenport was too darn good-looking to be unattached. Besides, that silver-bangle watch sitting on his countertop certainly suggested there was a woman in his life.
“Thanks for taking me and my mom to the barbecue,” Bobby said from the back seat. “It was really fun. I liked playing football with the guys.”
“They liked playing with you, too, Bobby.” Joe slid a glance at Kristin, but she couldn’t read the expression on his face. And she was angry with herself for even trying.
There was nothing between her and her old lover. Not anymore.
At the next stoplight, Joe looked across the seat and caught her eye. “I have Tuesday off. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to take Bobby on that bike ride we talked about earlier.”
“That would be way cool,” Bobby said. “Can I, Mom? Please?”
Kristin was hard-pressed to come up with an excuse to say no. She didn’t have anything on her calendar, other than her father’s appointment with the internist on Friday. That was the only day that wouldn’t work this week because she planned to go, too. She needed to ask the doctor a few questions and gain a better understanding of her father’s medical condition and treatment options. But Tuesday was definitely free.
She didn’t dare look at Bobby, because he was probably holding his breath, waiting for her to agree. And if she stammered and flubbed up a lame excuse, Joe might think that whatever happened in Kay’s kitchen had affected her more than she wanted him to suspect.
There was, she realized, no real reason to say no. “I suppose Tuesday is as good a day as any. What time would you like me to bring him over?”
Joe focused straight ahead. On the traffic? Or avoiding her gaze?
She wasn’t sure, but when he did look her way, his eyes drilled right into her like sharpened topaz.
“You don’t want me to come to your father’s house and pick him up?”
Okay. So there it was. He suspected that she wasn’t ready for him to meet her dad face-to-face.
She wanted to explain, but with Bobby hanging on to every word of their conversation, it was best to let it go. Besides, it didn’t really matter anyway. She didn’t intend to reveal Joe’s part in Bobby’s conception, but she couldn’t keep the fireman’s involvement with her son a secret for long.
“Maybe you should pick him up,” Kristin said. “Bobby’s bike will fit in your SUV better than in my dad’s Town Car.”
“Why don’t I come over about ten?”
“That’ll be fine.”
Bobby cheered from his seat in back, then began to chatter about bikes, scooters and Rollerblades. Before long, the silver Tahoe pulled into Joe’s complex, marking the end of the day.
“Thanks for taking us to the Logans with you,” Kristin said. “We had a great time.”
“You’re welcome.” Joe parked in his driveway. “I’m sorry about knocking you down and staining your dress.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She managed a carefree smile. “Those things happen.”
As they got out of the Tahoe, Kristin carried the wet dress in a plastic grocery bag. “I’ll get Kay’s clothing returned as soon as I can.”
“Or I can take it to her,” Joe said. “Whatever is easiest for you.”
Before Kristin could respond, a tall, shapely redhead dressed in a black formfitting dress and spike heels waved her arm and wiggled her fingers. “Joe! You’re home. I was afraid you wouldn’t be here in time.”
In time for what?
Kristin looked at Joe, but his smile didn’t explain anything. And she’d be darned if she would ask.
“I’d never let you down,” Joe told the redhead. “Chloe, I’d like you to meet my friends, Kristin and Bobby.”
The redhead—Chloe—extended a hand and flashed a smile outlined by lipstic
k the color of pink cotton candy. “I’m glad to meet you. Joe and I are neighbors.”
The busty woman’s hair might have been red to begin with, but the color had definitely been enhanced by a dye job. In fact, it looked good. Remarkably good. And Chloe had to know it, because she fairly glowed with sexual confidence.
An unwelcome and unreasonable sense of jealousy bubbled under Kristin’s calm surface as she greeted the woman.
Was Chloe, as she had said, just a neighbor? Was she the owner of the watch?
She certainly wasn’t his cleaning lady. Not dressed like that. Did she and Joe have a date tonight? And if so, were they lovers?
Kristin tugged at the oversize shirt with Bingo Babe written across the chest, then shook the flamboyant woman’s hand.
Wasn’t anyone going to mention this evening and what the two neighbors had planned?
Kristin glanced at Joe, at that darn poker-faced expression on his face. No clue there. Not even a you-look-hot-baby glimmer in his eye when he looked at Chloe. But how could he not notice how sexy the redhead was? She’d practically poured herself into the curve-hugging dress that could scarcely contain her breasts.
Okay. So it wasn’t any of Kristin’s business what was going on between Chloe and Joe. Who cared about how the handsome fireman spent his free time?
The truth settled over her like a wet blanket.
She cared.
But she shouldn’t.
Of course, since Bobby was going to spend more time with his father, it really did matter who Joe’s friends were.
Maternal interest took hold, and Kristin shook off any personal curiosity. “Thanks for taking us to the barbecue. Bobby and I are going to head home.”
“Thanks for going with me.” Joe gently stroked the top of Bobby’s hair. “I’ll see you on Tuesday, sport.”
Kristin pasted what she hoped was a nondescript expression on her own face. “Goodbye. We’ll see you Tuesday.”
Then she led her son—their son—back to her father’s car and headed home.
But she couldn’t help a quick glance in the rearview mirror.
Nor could she ignore the twinge of jealousy that squeezed her heart, when Joe and Chloe stepped into his condo and closed the door.
On Tuesday morning, Joe loaded up his bike, then knocked on Chloe’s door. Her blinds were pulled, suggesting she was asleep. But he didn’t let that bother him, since they were friends. Good friends.
After he knocked, he wondered whether he should have called first. She might have had someone sleep over, even though her dates were usually limited to one or two per guy and rarely got to the let’s-get-naked stage. But what the heck? Chloe probably wouldn’t mind. She owed him, especially after the other night.
When she didn’t answer, he rang the bell.
A minute or so later, she opened the door wearing a white, fluffy robe and looking like a long-haired Little Orphan Annie with a sleepy-eyed grimace. “Hey. What’s up?”
“Rise and shine, beautiful. Shouldn’t you be up by now? Isn’t this the day you’re supposed to work at that critter rescue place?”
“Yeah.” She squinted in the sunlight and yawned. “What time is it?”
“About quarter to ten.”
“I had a late night. I went out with Antoine, my hairdresser, and some of his friends.” She stepped aside. “Want a cup of coffee? You’ll have to make it, though. I need to jump in the shower.”
“Nope. I didn’t come over to chat. I just want to borrow your bike.”
Chloe ran a hand through her hair, an acrylic nail snagging on a rumpled red curl. “What for? You’ve got a nice one of your own.”
“I’m taking the kid you met the other day out for a ride along the bay, and I thought his mom might want to join us.”
Chloe’s eyes widened, then she slid him a dimpled grin and crossed her arms over the white chenille that covered her breasts. “Sounds like you’re hoping the mom will join you.”
“I’m not interested in the mother.”
Chloe lifted an auburn brow. “Oh no?”
“Nope.”
Been there, done that. But Joe didn’t mention anything to Chloe. They might be good friends, but they weren’t that good. He didn’t blab about stuff he’d locked deep in his gut. Not even to his closest buddies.
Joe and Chloe had actually dated once, when he first moved into Playa Del Sol. But the evening had been a disaster in a romantic sense, as he suspected most of Chloe’s dates were. And it hadn’t taken either of them very long to realize they had nothing in common.
Chloe was a pretty woman who tried to hide her insecurities behind a facade of spritz, spandex and makeup. But her biggest flaw was a heart as vast and deep as the Pacific. Not to mention a naiveté that was sometimes surprising in this day and age.
But she also had more underneath a flashy surface than most people realized. Chloe was a special lady, in her own, unique way.
The pretty redhead had more in common with Little Orphan Annie than hair color. And in spite of a crappy childhood, Chloe was dead set on saving the world, at least in a bless-the-beasts-and-the-children sense.
But Joe suspected the woman who had very few female friends really needed someone who would save her from herself.
“Kristin dresses a little matronly for a woman her age,” Chloe said. “And the pearls didn’t do a thing for me. Too Doris Day and June Cleaver.”
Joe smiled. “The clothes Kristin wore the other day didn’t belong to her.”
“Whatever.” Chloe led Joe into the darkened house and kicked aside a pair of lime-green high heels he suspected she’d worn last night and shed in the entryway when she’d returned. “It’s parked on the patio.”
When Joe came back inside, wheeling the bike, he found Chloe seated on the sofa, her feet tucked under her.
She opened her mouth to speak, and a yawn caught her off guard, but that didn’t stop her from talking right through it. “Thanks…for taking…care of my old folks the other night.”
“No problem. I actually enjoyed chatting with Mr. Johnston. He’s got some interesting war stories. And a unique philosophy on life.”
“Did you make sure Mrs. Irving saved her dessert for last?”
“Come on. I wasn’t about to tell that ninety-six-year-old woman that she shouldn’t eat her pudding first.”
A grin tickled her lips. “You big softie.”
“Look who’s talking,” he said, with a laugh. “You’ve been taking meals to the seniors in this community for as long as I’ve known you. And then there’s all that time you spend at the animal shelter, not to mention those trips to that orphanage in Baja.”
“Tease me all you want,” she said with a smirk. “But it looks as though you’ve taken on a little pet project of your own. Single moms have never been your date of choice.”
“They still aren’t.” He glanced at his watch. “Listen, I’ve got to go. Thanks for letting me borrow your bike.”
“No problem.” Chloe continued to grin like a fat cat locked in the creamery at the dairy.
When Joe reached the front door, he paused. “You never did tell me how that date with Arturo went.”
She blew out a raspberry with her tongue. “It went in the toilet. Or should I say en el escusado?”
That didn’t surprise Joe. That’s where most of Chloe’s dates ended up. She always had such high hopes, but she’d never been attracted to the kind of guy she deserved. And he wasn’t sure why. “Was the language a problem?”
“I know enough Spanish to get by,” she said. “So while we had margaritas, we chatted. I didn’t understand everything he said, but I know what a matador is. It’s a bullfighter. And you know how I feel about animals.”
Yeah. He knew how she felt about all living creatures. If she found a spider in her bathtub, she’d pick it up carefully in a tissue and carry it outside to set it free. “I can see where your two worlds might collide.”
She shrugged her shoulders, then nibbled on
an acrylic nail. “I’m not so sure that I’ll ever find Mr. Right. It seems I keep running into Mr. All That’s Left.”
That was probably true, although he thought it was her own fault. Maybe she was only attracted to losers.
It was a shame, too. Chloe actually had a lot going for her in addition to her looks, her heart and a hefty trust fund that allowed her to not only get by without needing a regular paycheck, but to donate to the many charities she supported.
Joe had a feeling that Chloe kept setting herself up for failure. But who was he to point fingers?
He hadn’t been able to find anyone to measure up to Kristin Reynolds since he let her go. And God knew she was a benchmark not many women could reach. Except maybe for Allison, a pretty flight attendant he’d been dating. But the jury was still out on that budding relationship. Their schedules didn’t allow them much time together.
“Have a good day, Chloe. Maybe love will fall in your lap when you least expect it.”
“Maybe so,” she said. “But I’m learning not to hold my breath.”
When Joe had loaded her bike onto the rack attached to his SUV, he headed toward Thomas Reynolds’s house, intent on picking up his son. And if Kristin wanted to go along, he was prepared. At least as far as having wheels for her to ride.
He wasn’t sure it was a good idea to encourage her to go with them to Bayside Park. Not after they’d gotten caught up in that sensual cloud of…whatever it was. Hell, resurrecting those old feelings for Kristin would only complicate his life. Especially since the only thing they had in common was Bobby.
Ten minutes later, Joe pulled into the long drive that led to Thomas Reynolds’s house. Bobby was sitting on the front porch, his hair all combed, his freckled face aglow with a bright-eyed smile. A new, shiny red bicycle waited on the grass.
“Hey, sport. While I load your bike, why don’t you let your mother know I’m here?”
Bobby tore off like a shot. Moments later, he led his pretty mom outside. She wore a pair of long, khaki walking shorts and a crisp white blouse. Nothing fancy, yet classy. And undoubtedly appropriate for a wealthy woman.
No spritz, no spandex, no makeup to speak of, other than rose-colored lipstick.
