In Bed with the Wild One & In Bed with the Pirate

by Julie Kistler

  Suzanne’s wide-eyed gaze didn’t budge from his chest. “Hello, Harry.”

  “Toby,” Toby corrected.

  She looked up, blinked. “Toby.”

  Dennis grinned. “We’re watching our grandchild—told the baby-sitter we’d be home by nine. Hope that’s not a problem.”

  Toby almost burst into maniacal laughter at the wonderfulness that they’d have to leave by nine. The coast would be clear by the time Free returned. “No, no problem! Come in, come in.” He stepped back, holding open the door. “Welcome to my home.” The place I never thought I’d set foot in again.

  Dennis and Suzanne stepped carefully inside, looking around as though more flamenco dancers might come flying down the hallway. But when they saw the normal floor with the normal rug that ran down the hallway to a normal door, they visibly relaxed. As they walked along the hallway, Toby gestured toward the pictures on the wall. “These are my family.”

  Dennis peered at the one with the family gathered around a dinner table. Toby stood in the back, holding a platter of food. “So I see you’re the family cook.”

  “Yes,” Toby said, joining him in looking at the picture. “That’s me. Family cook. I’ve always had a secret yearning to run my own restaurant.”

  Dennis leaned closer, peering into the photo. “Which one is Free?”

  Suzanne joined her husband to look at the picture. “They’re all married?” she asked, misunderstanding.

  “No, Free is my girlfriend’s name,” Toby clarified. Girlfriend? The word felt odd as he said it. “This picture was taken before we met.”

  Suzanne looked around. “And where is the lady of the house?”

  Damn. In the chaos of the past few hours, Toby hadn’t thought this one through yet. “Her…great-aunt died. She’s in Morocco at the funeral.”

  “Morocco?” Suzanne asked, looking confused.

  “Uh, part of her family comes from California, the other part from Morocco. A Tex-Mex sort of thing.” Dennis and Suzanne just stared at him.

  “How nice,” Suzanne said, tugging on her ear. Toby wondered if it was a sign to her husband to make this evening short.

  “And in honor of my heritage,” Toby continued, trying not to think more about the ear-tugging, “I fixed lasagna.” Okay, he was relaxing. Italian. Lasagna. This conversation was proceeding, logically, from one topic to another. He pointed toward a door to the right. “Please, go into the dining room and make yourselves comfortable.”

  Toby led the way into the dining room. He pulled out a chair for Suzanne at the walnut dining room set. “Care for a glass of Chianti?”

  Dennis grinned, the smile genuine this time. “Sounds delightful.”

  “I’ll be right back with the wine.” Toby sauntered nonchalantly out of the dining room, feeling in control for the first time in what seemed forever. After retrieving a bottle of Chianti from a wooden rack inside the pantry, the corkscrew from a drawer and three glasses from a cabinet, he strolled back to the dining room, a man in control. A man who would be offered a job.

  He uncorked the lush red wine and poured it into the three glasses. Raising his, he began a toast. “To—”

  Ding-a-ding-a-ding-a-ding.

  Free? Without finishing his toast, Toby downed the glass of wine. “Be right back.”

  A moment later, he opened the front door, prepared for the worst. “Kate?” he asked, shocked. And relieved. “What are you doing here?”

  She smiled apologetically. “Another pan of lasagna!” she explained, holding out a foil-wrapped pan. “Mom insisted. I told her you had things under control, but she didn’t listen. Said you might need it just in case you run out…or whatever. She’s like that—preparing too much food in case of a dining emergency. I have enough brownies to feed my guests until the year two thousand and four.”

  He looked into Kate’s big blue eyes and realized how much he missed her. Hell, how much he missed her mother, too. “Tell her thank-you.”

  Kate’s blue eyes got bigger and she seemed to be staring past him. “Oh, no.”

  “Oh, yes! Tell her!” He felt humbled at the lady’s generosity, including the amazing feat of wooing Mickey and Minnie outside. Suddenly he felt bad at how he’d reacted to some of Melanie’s earlier questions. “And also tell her,” he said, lowering his voice, “I’m sorry I got shocked at some of those Santa Claus questions. Tell her the old guy definitely wears stretchy red underwear.”

  “What old guy wears stretchy red underwear?” asked a woman.

  Toby turned. There stood Suzanne, holding a glass of wine.

  “Uh,” Kate said, “my father?”

  Suzanne blinked. “And who are you?”

  Now Kate blinked. After an awkward pause, she said meekly, “Free?”

  Suzanne turned misty-eyed. “Oh, you poor dear!” she said. “Toby, don’t make your girlfriend stand outside, her arms full.” He took the pan from Kate’s hands while Suzanne pulled her inside. “You flew all the way back from Morocco after such a devastating ordeal.” She glanced at the pan. “You certainly travel light.”

  Kate stumbled in alongside Suzanne, who kept murmuring things about death and life and moving on. Kate shot Toby a look. He shrugged and followed the two of them with Kate’s carry-on luggage.

  “Dennis, darling, this is Free,” Suzanne said, still clutching Kate as though she might keel over from grief any moment. “She just flew in from Morocco, the poor dear.”

  Dennis stood and pulled out a chair. “Sit down, Free. Can I get you a glass of wine?”

  Kate looked out the dining room door. Toby sailed by, the pan in his hands. “Just half a glass, thanks.”

  Dennis poured her wine while Suzanne pushed her chair closer to Kate. “Dennis talks about Toby all the time. What a great engineer he is, what a tremendous team leader. You must be awfully proud of your fiancé.”

  Fiancé? Toby had never mentioned he and Free were engaged. “Yes,” Kate croaked. “I’m, uh, proud of my fiancé.” She took a quick sip of wine. Fiancé? They were getting married? Why hadn’t he ever mentioned that? Jeez, she’d said she’d go out with him if he wasn’t involved. She’d never have said such a dumb thing if she’d known the guy was headed to the altar. He wasn’t as bad as four-timing Henry, but this little unknown fact didn’t exactly earn him any Best Beaufort Brownie points. She took another sip, starting to feel a serious surge of self-pity coming on.

  Toby reentered the room and put a plate, napkin and utensils in front of Kate. “If I’d known you’d be back so soon from your great-grandfather’s funeral, I’d have set you a place.”

  “Great-aunt,” corrected Suzanne.

  “And if I had known you were getting married soon,” Kate said, glaring at him, “I would never have left for Morocco in the first place!”

  “We’re not getting married!” he said edgily.

  Suzanne tugged at her ear. “Oh dear. Grief does that, gets everyone’s emotions all upside down. You two love each other, that’s easy to see. This is just a grief-driven misunderstanding.”

  Kate took another sip of wine. “Yes, it’s the grief. My late second cousin was a great lady.” Dennis and Suzanne looked at her oddly. Toby seemed to be mouthing something like “and” but Kate couldn’t quite decipher it. She turned to Toby, “I’m sorry about the misunderstanding about your—I mean, our—engagement. Of course, I’ll marry you.” Feeling happy, fuzzy and self-satisfied, Kate toasted the room.

  Toby, looking a bit stunned, came to when Dennis got up and slapped him on the back. “Wonderful moment of a man’s life—that moment when he commits to the woman of his dreams. Congratulations to a long, happy life together.”

  Kate almost burst into one of her Motown favorites, “Baby Love”, but figured she’d save that for the wedding rehearsal.

  Everyone drank to the newly engaged couple, then Toby excused himself to get the dinner. He returned within moments with a pan of savory-smelling lasagna, which he set on the center of the table on a mat. He se
rved Suzanne, Kate, then Dennis. After cutting a wedge of lasagna for himself, Toby opened another bottle and poured more wine into everyone’s glasses.

  “To friends,” Toby said, holding his glass high.

  “To ‘Baby Love,”’ Kate added, ignoring Toby’s shocked expression.

  “But before babies,” Suzanne smiled endearingly at the couple, “to yours and Free’s marriage.”

  Free. That sobered Kate up, fast. She was Free, all right. Free in every way, except free to really love Toby. With a small smile, Kate took a gulp of wine.

  “So, Free, what do you do for a living?” Dennis asked pleasantly.

  “I…collect beads,” she said glumly.

  Toby shoveled in a mouthful of food. Obviously not realizing how hot it was, he made a series of woofing noises as he attempted to breathe and suck in air simultaneously.

  “Have some more wine, hon,” Kate said, smiling sweetly at Dennis and Suzanne. “Maybe I overreamed that burner. Did my oven get too hot?”

  Toby coughed so hard, Kate thought she’d have to do the Heimlich maneuver, but after several gasps and a hoarse “I’m okay, really,” he seemed to recover.

  Suzanne looked from Kate to Toby. “So when’s the big date?”

  Ding-a-ding-a-ding-a-ding.

  For a long, horrifying moment Kate and Toby stared at each other, terror etched on their faces. As though psychically connected, they both suddenly jumped and yelled, “I’ll get it!” But they’d barely scooted their chairs away from the table when a somber apparition—a woman dressed in a long black dress covered with a black cape—appeared in the doorway.

  “Door was open. Hope you don’t mind that I came in,” said Verna. She held a basket that emitted aromas of garlic and butter. “I just happened to have this batch of homemade garlic bread on hand, so I thought I’d drop it by.”

  Kate’s heart plunged. “Are you crazy?” she mouthed, knowing full well her friend couldn’t resist this opportunity to play matchmaker.

  Suzanne, finishing another sip of wine, blinked at the newcomer. “And you’re—”

  Verna, looking unsure how to explain why she’d walked into a home she didn’t live in, ad-libbed, “I’m…the aunt.”

  Suzanne clutched her chest. “Oh, my God,” she muttered, looking at Verna’s black outfit. “Returned from the dead. And with garlic bread!”

  “No!” Kate said, still standing. “She’s just my aunt, not the great one.”

  Suzanne, looking pale but relieved, leaned back in her chair. Smiling feebly, she said to Verna, “So, you’re part of the family?”

  “Yes,” Verna said, searching Kate and Toby’s eyes, “that’s right. I’m just the aunt. Aunt Verna. Not great, but a pretty good aunt.”

  Toby, still standing too, said very carefully as though Verna had just learned the English language, “Free and I were just entertaining my boss, Dennis Doyle, and his lovely wife Suzanne.”

  Verna looked aghast. “You and Free? But I thought she was still in Calistoga!”

  “No, she was in Morocco,” Suzanne said sadly, reaching across the table to pat Kate’s hand. “Poor dear. Such a long, sad journey.” After smiling benevolently at Kate, Suzanne turned her attention back to Verna. “Sit, Aunt Verna, and tell us all about Free.”

  “Meaning, me!” Kate said, thumping her chest. “Me, Free. Free’s me.”

  Verna sat down, a dazed expression on her face. “I don’t suppose I could have a glass of wine, too? I think I have some catching up to do.” She gave a girlfriend sign language look at Kate that said, Help! What’s going on here?

  But Kate barely had time to signal back when Toby coughed, giving Kate a knowing look…except this one she didn’t know how to decipher because she and Toby had never practiced the fine art of girlfriend sign language.

  “I’m going to get a wineglass and a plate of lasagna for Aunt Verna,” Toby said evenly. “Care to help me, Free?”

  “Right. Me. Free. Help.” She was back to Kate, the one-word girl, but at this moment, it was the very best she could do. As she passed Verna, who had a look of concern and confusion on her face, Kate said, “Here I got to help my fiancé Toby in the kitchen.” She backed out the door, smiling at everyone as she left.

  In the kitchen, Toby leaned against the refrigerator, his arms folded tightly across his chest. “This is a mess,” he mumbled. “They think you’re Free, they think Verna’s a good aunt, and they think we’re getting married.”

  “You and Verna?”

  Toby gave Kate a get-with-it look. “No, you and me!”

  “Oh, yeah.” Was he angry because she’d misunderstood the Verna part? Or was he angry at the thought of marrying Kate? That it might be the latter hurt, like a barb pulled tightly around her heart. “Things aren’t so bad,” she said in a strained voice. “At least we’re not serving sandwiches for dinner.”

  The hard look in his eyes turned gentle. Shaking his head, he offered her a smile that thawed any lingering chilliness in the air. “What is it about you, Kate? I can be down in the dumps, hitting bottom, and then you turn my world upside down. And instead of staring at the gutter, I’m suddenly looking at the stars. You make me see the humor, the lightness in life. You’re frustrating and fascinating and fun.”

  His brown eyes glinted with heat. Add the shadow of his beard, the confident set of his shoulders, and he was again her pirate. She suddenly felt giddy, as though she were free-falling through the stratosphere, riding a rush of elation.

  “What are you thinking about?” Toby asked.

  “Free-falling.” Free. Kate closed her eyes, painfully aware of the word she’d used. I’m pretending to be bead-loving, Tiger-taming, oven-breaking Free. Kate’s euphoria crash-landed with a painful thud back to planet Earth. She opened her eyes. “Those people—your boss and his wife—think I’m Free. And poor Suzanne, she almost had a coronary when she thought Verna was my dead great-cousin or second aunt or both.” Suddenly Kate felt totally, utterly miserable. Planting the back of her hand against her forehead, she said in a tormented voice, “You’re right. We’ve created a mess.”

  “Could be worse,” Toby answered playfully. “We could be serving sandwiches.”

  She dropped her hand. There he stood, one hip cocked against the fridge, a mischievous twinkle in those caramel eyes. And that lock of sandy hair falling dangerously across his forehead only heightened his bad-boy-pirate look.

  Kate had sworn she wouldn’t succumb to her desires again. How many times today had she sworn to adopt a will of iron, to move on, forget about her night of plundering, passionate lovemaking?

  Will of iron? Right now Toby was the biggest, baddest magnet and she couldn’t resist him if her life depended on it. Aching with a raw, primitive need, she moved toward him. She would have stopped, if she could, but his galvanizing look of desire only encouraged her, pulled her closer. Damn it, this man wanted her every bit as bad as she wanted him. Her heart thundered in her chest. Her blood roared in her ears.

  Toby had seen Kate’s passion in the moonlight. But here, in the blaze of light, he could see every nuance. Her blue eyes sparked and smoldered with longing. Her skin was flushed. She was heaving breaths, as though she couldn’t consume enough air. It was startling, and intoxicating, to see this side of Kate. This sensual, demanding woman intent on indulging her passions.

  And he wanted it, too, wanted it so bad, he thought his pounding heart would burst through his chest like a skyrocket. Desire burned within him, surged through his blood. And his pants were so damn tight he was tempted to grab a knife…but this time, rip his pants off.

  She was too close, and he couldn’t wait any longer. Stepping forward, he pulled her roughly to him, molding her against him. With a groan of need, he lifted her off her feet.

  “Toby,” she groaned, her breaths hot against his face. “I want to be with you.”

  And he’d never wanted anything, anyone, the way he wanted Kate at this very moment. It was as though his soul had found its m
issing counterpart. As though his body had found its perfect mate. He lowered her to the ground, luxuriating in how her soft curves filled the hollows of his body. Dragging his hand through her hair, he pulled back her head and looked into those glistening, half-shut eyes. “Kate,” he murmured, lowering his face to hers. “Oh Kate.”

  He bent his head and tasted her. He felt like a dying man who’d been denied water, and now he was tasting, licking, consuming her lips and mouth as though his life depended on it. She tasted sweet from the wine. Sweet, hot, spicy.

  She pulled back. Her arms locked around his waist, she looked into the depths of his eyes and murmured, “Toby, I love you.”

  He’d hardly digested the words before she kissed him with a hunger that wiped out everything else in the world but this cocoon of passion, of desire only the two of them shared.

  “What’s goin’ on?” said a female voice from somewhere outside the cocoon.

  With great effort, Toby pulled away and looked over the wild mane of Kate’s hair at her mother, who was holding a pecan pie. “I’m making love to your daughter,” he said breathlessly. “What does it look like?”

  Melanie’s false eyelashes barely batted. “No, what’s goin’ on outside? It looks like two hippies are headed to your front door. They were getting out of their van just as I reached your doorstep. The front door was unlocked, so I quickly stepped inside and locked it, but these hippies might be dangerous.” The pecan pie was visibly shaking. “Remember the Manson murders? That happened right around the summer of love.”

  There were sounds of voices down the hall, giggling interspersed with “Tiger, stop it!”

  Toby glanced at his watch. “It’s hardly seven! Why are they back already?”

  Kate looked frantically into Toby’s eyes. “Should I get in the can room?” She paused. “Or maybe I should just get out of your life? Let you go back to Free? I told you I loved you…even if I have to let you go.”

  He looked into those blue eyes, so sweet, so strong. “We’re not hiding anymore—from Free, from my boss, from each other.” And with that pronouncement, he grabbed Kate’s hand and led her toward the hall.