Bad Behavior

by Kristin Hardy

  He looked her up and down, his gaze warming her. “You. Definitely. How am I doing?”

  Her mouth curved. “You’ve got my attention.” And that of her hormones.

  “That’s a start. Small world, huh?”

  Gorgeous, maybe, but not so great in the brains department. And Delaney required brains. “Gee, you’re right. You’re American, I’m American, both of us in Mexico.” She widened her eyes. “What are the chances?”

  He studied her a second and laughed out loud, a sound that sent something vibrating deep inside her. “Pretty small. I’d call it fate.”

  “You think?”

  “Absolutely. What brings you down here, vacation?”

  “No, I work down here.”

  That seemed to surprise him. “What do you do?”

  “Oh,” she cast about, “I’m a, uh, professional agouti wrestler.”

  “Agouti?”

  “You know, those little brown jungle animals that look like rats on stilts? No tails, just these underprivileged-looking behinds?”

  “An agouti wrestler.”

  Delaney’s lips twitched. “They’re a lot tougher than you’d think.”

  “That must mean you are, too.” Before she realized his intent, he reached out to run his fingertips over the curve of her bare shoulder. “I guess I’d better watch out.”

  It shouldn’t have sent heat bolting through her. Some banter, a smile, a quick touch was all it was. It shouldn’t have set her heart to thudding. So why was she standing there without a thought in her head, she who always had a comeback for everything? She moistened her lips.

  And if possible, his eyes got even darker. “You know, you have a great mouth. I bet you played flute or something in school.”

  “Flute?” she repeated blankly.

  “Yeah. You’ve definitely got the lips for it.”

  It was a guess, she told herself, a lucky one. “Now there’s a line I haven’t heard before.”

  “Not a line.”

  “No? So what are you, an orchestra director on the lam?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. I don’t see you in an orchestra anyway. Band, I think. And every time you put that flute up to your mouth, I bet you broke some poor kid’s heart.”

  “You’re betting a lot tonight.”

  His smile widened. “I’m feeling lucky.” He watched her closely, his eyes unsettlingly intent. Amusement glimmered in his irises, something that suggested an inside joke—on her.

  And suspicion dawned. “My friends put you up to this, didn’t they?” Delaney demanded, rising on tiptoe to stare at the rest of the gang. They were watching avidly, though, not a grin among them.

  “Nope, no help,” he confirmed when she glanced back. “Why, am I right?”

  She raised her chin. “Who’s asking?”

  “You really don’t know?” He grinned. “Come on, don’t tell me your memory’s already going at thirty.”

  “If you wanted to flatter me you’d have said twenty-five.”

  “If I hadn’t known better, I would have guessed twenty-four.”

  And like a seismic vibration, the beginnings of recognition quivered through her. “I don’t believe it,” she said slowly. A younger face, rounder, peach smooth with adolescence. Not him, but someone shorter, blonder. Someone who was…“Oh, my God!”

  “What?”

  “It can’t be.” She stared. “I know you. It’s Jake, right? Jake from South Junior High School. Jake—”

  “Gordon,” he finished. “Hello, Delaney.”

  HE’D RECOGNIZED HER THE minute he’d seen her, with the same hard punch of reaction he’d felt for her all those years ago. Back then, it had been a half-formed yearning that he hadn’t quite understood. Now, he recognized it, oh, yeah, he recognized it—plain, old-fashioned lust, as sharp and immediate as he’d ever known. Of course, generally when he felt this kind of need, it wasn’t coupled with the shock of seeing a face, a person resurrected from his past.

  And from his dreams.

  Approaching her hadn’t been a matter of debate. He couldn’t have stayed away if he’d tried. The fact that she hadn’t recognized him had only added a bit of spice to the game.

  “But you’re…” She waved her hands feebly at him. “Different.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “That’s reassuring, considering it’s been, what, fifteen years?”

  “Sixteen,” she corrected faintly.

  Her scent was different now. When they were kids it had been light, playful. Now, it conjured up images of smoky jazz clubs and throaty laughter, of velvet-clad chanteuses singing over the husky tones of a saxophone.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Came down to take a break, do some diving.”

  “Fifteen years go by—”

  “Sixteen,” he corrected.

  “Sixteen. And you live where?”

  “Long Beach, more or less.”

  “Once a surfer, always a surfer. I live in West L.A.”

  “I thought you were an agouti wrestler.”

  “I moonlight,” she said in exasperation. “Sixteen years. I never once see you after you go off to private school, not in Anaheim, not in L.A. I go to an obscure bar in an obscure town in Mexico and presto, you’re here?”

  He looked hugely amused. “Like I said, small world.”

  “I guess.” She folded her arms, looked him up and down. “You turned out well.”

  “So did you.” It was Delaney and yet not Delaney, her face more angular, her hair shorter than he’d ever seen it, and silky looking enough to have his fingers itching to touch. He’d approached her because of the girl he’d once known, but she was a woman now, and that changed everything. “I think we should find somewhere quiet and do some catching up.”

  She laughed as though she knew exactly what he was thinking. “Oh, you do, do you? I’ll tell you what I think, I think we should—”

  “Are you holding our drinks hostage?” a voice demanded from behind them. Dom glanced back to see one of the women Delaney had come in with. Here to track down the cocktails, maybe, or to check him out. You never knew with the sisterhood. Always looking out for one another—and always curious.

  “Aren’t your feet hurting?” Delaney muttered to her.

  “They’ve recovered. Excuse me,” the woman said to him, reaching around Delaney to rescue a couple of the drinks. “I’m Cilla,” she added over her shoulder.

  “Dom,” he said automatically.

  Delaney, juggling three of the other glasses, sent him a sharp look. “Dom?”

  He nodded. “Need some help?”

  “The more the merrier,” Cilla said happily.

  He picked up the other two and headed after them.

  Delaney flicked a glance at him as they sidled through the growing crowd. “Wait a minute, I’m confused. When did you start going by Dom?”

  “It always was my name. Jake was just a nickname my dad gave me because I was so into the wrestler when I was a kid.”

  “Jake the Snake,” she said in sudden comprehension.

  “Bingo. When I switched schools to St. Joseph’s, it seemed like a good time to drop it.”

  “Not to mention a few other things,” she replied.

  He gave her a quick glance. Her voice didn’t carry the slap of old anger so much as challenge. Then again, Delaney always had kept him on his toes. It could, he decided as they arrived at the table, be an interesting evening.

  “Want to join us?” she asked.

  He wanted a whole hell of a lot more than that. He wanted to be somewhere private where they had all the time in the world. Yeah, he remembered what it had been like to kiss her, he thought, staring at her mouth, and he was now imagining what it would be like to kiss her again. But he wasn’t fourteen anymore and kissing wasn’t enough to satisfy him. Not even close.

  For now, though…“I’m here with a buddy. Let me go get him and then you can introduce us both at the same
time.”

  And then, because he couldn’t quite keep all his needs clamped down, he leaned in to brush his lips over hers before he turned and walked away.

  “HE’S GORGEOUS,” WAS the first thing out of Kelly’s mouth. “I can’t believe you just walk into a bar and a guy like that falls into your lap. If I weren’t so deliriously happy I’d be jealous.”

  “Where did he go?” Paige wanted to know.

  It took Delaney a moment to respond because her lips were still tingling from his. It hadn’t been a real kiss, barely even a touch. So why was her heart sprinting in her chest?

  And why could she still feel the warmth of his mouth on hers?

  “Earth to Delaney,” said Paige.

  “To get his friend. It’s Jake,” she added, trying to blink away the fog.

  Cilla gave her a blank stare. “He said his name was Dom.”

  “It’s him, Jake,” Delaney repeated. “My eighth grade boyfriend.”

  “Your eighth grade boyfriend you weren’t in love with, that guy?” Paige asked incredulously.

  “Well, he didn’t look like that in eighth grade,” Delaney defended. “Shorter, a lot shorter. And rounder. And no moustache.”

  “At fourteen? Gee, imagine that.”

  “And his hair was so light and he didn’t have those…” she waved in the direction of her shoulders. And when had he gotten that voice, that husky voice that made her want to rub herself all over him like a cat? She took a swallow of her drink. “I still don’t quite buy that it’s him.”

  But it was. Somewhere down in her gut she knew, because she felt that same twisting, flipping feel that she’d had for him in eighth grade. Before he’d broken up with her and gone off to private school. And now here, three thousand miles from either of their homes, she’d run into him. Sixteen years later, she had another chance, to laugh, to give him a hard time for the heartache. To boink his brains out.

  And to be the one to walk away.

  3

  DELANEY TURNED AS JAKE approached with his friend. Giving the two of them a brilliant smile, she turned to the rest of the Supper Club. “Okay, guys, this is someone I knew from junior high school, Jake—”

  “Dom,” he corrected.

  “Right. Dom Gordon.” Humor leapt in her eyes. “I still think Jake the Snake suited you better.”

  The guy with Jake—Dom—let go a burst of laughter. “Jake the Snake?” he repeated.

  Dom scowled. “It was a nickname. And this is Eric Novak, my sometimes friend.”

  “Hi, Eric. I’m Delaney,” she said, “and this is my college gang—Sabrina, Cilla, Paige, Thea, Trish and Kelly. Pay attention, there’ll be a test after,” she added.

  Eric looked like he couldn’t believe his luck. “Nice to meet you all.”

  “To new friends.” Delaney raised her margarita.

  “And old ones,” Dom added. With a clink of glasses, they all drank.

  Eric put down his glass, still staring at Thea. “You used to be a model, didn’t you?” he blurted.

  And all of them, the whole Supper Club, tensed a little. Maybe none of them knew quite what had happened to Thea back in New York, but they knew that any reminder of that time had a bad effect on her. Delaney waited now to see how she’d respond.

  And to her everlasting shock, Thea smiled.

  That was Brady, Delaney realized, the man Thea had fallen for just a month before. Somehow Brady and Portland—and love—had healed her.

  “It’s been years since I modeled,” Thea was saying calmly. “Now I just teach tango.”

  “And live with the best brew master in the Pacific Northwest,” Delaney added, seeing the adoration plastered all over Eric’s face.

  He closed his eyes briefly. “That crashing sound you hear is my heat breaking,” he told Delaney. “But thank you.”

  “Reality is sometimes painful.”

  “How could you?” He turned to Thea. “Why didn’t you wait? You must have known I was going to be here.”

  “Sorry,” Thea told him. “Poor planning on my part.”

  “And I suppose you didn’t bring any copies of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit picture to sign, either.”

  She spread her hands apologetically. “Fresh out.”

  He gave a mournful glance at the flashes of gold and diamonds that adorned several of the other hands at the table. “Married, married, married,” he ticked off. “This is looking more tragic all the time. I don’t suppose any of the rest of you are single,” he added hopefully.

  “Delaney’s the only holdout,” Kelly said with a wicked smile.

  “And holding hard,” Delaney added fervently. “How about you, Jake the Snake?”

  “Slipped the noose so far,” he said.

  “I see. And what do you do with yourself when you’re not slipping the noose? Or is that a full-time job?”

  “Oh, I—”

  “He runs a garage,” Eric supplied, leaning over toward them for a second.

  Delaney’s mouth curved with pleasure. “Stan’s? Your father’s old place?”

  “You need your tires rotated, Dom’s your boy.”

  “I’ll remember that.” Her eyes gleamed. “I’ve got great memories of the garage. Do you remember the day your dad came in and found us riding the lift up and down?”

  Dom winced. “Hard to forget. You and your dares.”

  “Admit it, you had fun. How’s your family, by the way?”

  Dom moved his shoulders. “My mom’s good. She’s still teaching special ed at St. Joseph’s.”

  “And the twins? I still remember them as babies, but I guess they’re not anymore.”

  “Nope. They’re starting college in a couple of weeks.”

  Delaney stared. “College?” she repeated faintly. “Now, that’s scary.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “And how’s your dad?”

  A beat went by. “We lost him about five years back. Mouth cancer.” He smiled briefly. “He never could give up those stogies.”

  And she saw in his eyes what it cost him to joke. “Oh, Jake, I—” She stopped. “Dom, I mean. It’s hard to get used to.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Dad still called me Jake even after I changed over.”

  “I’m sorry,” Delaney said simply. “He was a good man. He made me laugh.”

  And she was rewarded with a smile. “He always liked you. Gave me hell when we broke up.”

  “Good for him.” She gave him a mock scowl. “He should have.”

  “You still holding that against me?” he asked easily.

  “Hell, yes. You walked off with my Smashing Pumpkins T-shirt.”

  “Did I?” He suddenly found something in his glass very interesting.

  “It was a collector’s item.”

  “It was.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Define ‘was.’”

  “You can have it back if you want.” He cleared his throat. “Most of it.”

  “Most of it?” she repeated dangerously.

  “It got too small for me after a while. I’ve been using it to wax my car.”

  Delaney breathed out through her nose. “I loved that shirt. You could have sent it back. My parents only moved away a couple of years ago.”

  “Might be too small for you, too,” he said, studying her. “Although I bet it would look interesting.”

  Something about the glint in his eyes had her swallowing. “Hmmph. You owe me, big time.”

  “A drink?” he offered.

  “More like free tire rotations for life.” He had good hands for rotating tires. And other things.

  “All you’ve got to do is show up.”

  “Don’t think I won’t, buddy. You’re responsible for burning out my CD player, too.”

  “I am?”

  “After the seventh straight day of playing ‘Nothing Compares 2 U,’ it started smoking.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched.

  “My sister’s still scarred from it. She threatene
d me the last time we were out driving and the song came on the radio.”

  “They say family members are the first ones the cops interview after a murder.”

  “Better that than wasting away. I started to, you know, after you broke my heart. Laid on my bed weeping. Walked around looking tragic, wasting away to skin and bones.”

  “How long?”

  “Oh, most of a week, at least. Jeff Doane helped comfort me in my time of need,” she added wickedly.

  “Now that hurts. You never told me you took up with Jeff Doane.”

  “You never asked me,” she tossed back at him. “Besides, you were the one who left me at the altar.”

  “At the altar?”

  “You’d promised to be my date for the Sadie Hawkins dance, remember? No date, no one to French kiss in the corner, no one’s lap to sit in for the picture, just me in my Daisy Dukes and my red check shirt. My life’s never been the same since. In fact, I don’t know why I’m even talking to you,” she added, enjoying herself.

  “I’d be happy to give you a reason to.”

  He looked down at her, eyes hot and dark and that quickly the breath clogged up in her throat. She’d kissed him for hours, once upon a time, sitting on the bleachers at the school yard, hanging out behind the garage. It had been a revelation, that first kiss, the soft pressure, the sliding heat and the sudden, surprising taste of him. His mouth had been her obsession, his mouth and the places it could take her, by turns gentle and more urgent, though neither of them quite knew what lay beyond. And she’d dreamed of him since, vivid, startling dreams that took her to places they’d never gone together.

  Places she could go with him now.

  “Yes. Well.” Desperately, she groped for something to say. Behind her, Eric was telling the others a tale of fighting off a fearsome barracuda armed only with an ill-fated crab.

  “…two inch teeth, I’m telling you.”

  Up at the gazebo, the band was doing a spirited rendition of “Livin’ La Vida Loca.” “Let’s dance.” Delaney rose abruptly, looking not for escape but time. No more of those quick, brushing kisses from him to scramble her mind, not until she was ready for it. Although, from the look in his eyes, he’d given up the idea of brushing kisses for something more…ambitious.