Thrown for a Curve

by Sugar Jamison

  “I hated being this tall growing up,” she said when she returned. “But now I can see its advantages. Plus I was the only girl in the whole ninth grade who was begged to play on the varsity basketball team.”

  “You played basketball?”

  She snorted inelegantly, which he found kind of cute. “Are you crazy? I’m lucky if I can make it through the day without falling on my ass.” She sat at the table, put her hand on her chin, and studied him. “Did you play any sports?”

  “No, love. I wasn’t always the man you see before you. I was skinny with bad spots and big feet. I wasn’t athletic or talented or popular. I spent most of my formative years in my pop’s shop alone learning how to fix things. I hadn’t even kissed a girl till I was seventeen.”

  One of Cherri’s brows went up. “I don’t believe you.”

  “You should. I had a crazy growth spurt when I hit eighteen. That’s when things started looking up for me. Women started noticing me.”

  “I bet you they noticed you all right. Tell me about losing your V card.”

  “My V card?”

  “Your virginity,” she said as if it were obvious. “I bet you have the kind of wonderful story that all teenage boys fantasize about. Was it an older sexy woman who showed the way in a tender, passionate lovemaking session? I bet she gave you lessons on how to please a woman. Cougars are good for that.”

  “No,” he said flatly. “Just no.”

  “I know. It was twins! Big-breasted country lasses who let you have your way with them in a hayloft. Oh Colin,” she moaned dramatically. “Yes, Colin. We both like that.”

  “Cherri!” he barked at her.

  “Tell me.” She grinned with that twinkle in her eye. “Tell me how it happened.”

  “It’s none of your bloody business.”

  “Why won’t you tell me?”

  He didn’t want to talk about sex with her because it caused him to think about sex with her and that was the last thing he needed to be thinking about right now. “Because I won’t.”

  She lightly rested her hand on top of his. It was an innocent gesture but it shot heat right through the core of him. “Tell me how you lost yours and I’ll tell you how I lost mine.”

  “I don’t want to know!” He didn’t want to think about her with another man, much less hear about it.

  “Tell me.”

  “No.”

  “Please.”

  “I was in the back of an old Chevy Nova with a girl I went to school with. There were no twins or cougars or grand passion, just some fumbling, awkwardness, and a release on my side. Are you happy now?”

  “I like my busty-twins-in-a-hayloft story better.” She shrugged and then studied him for a moment. “I pegged you wrong. You were shy, weren’t you?” she asked as if stumbling upon some great revelation.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Because a small part of you still is. The way you hung in the background at my party. The way you don’t say much around people. You work alone. You live alone. Actually, maybe those are signs you are a serial killer. It’s always the quiet ones.”

  “Smartass.” He found himself grinning at her despite himself. He may have lusted after her body but he liked her. He liked the mischievous little smartass in her.

  “I always thought you were this cool aloof guy, but you’re a big ol’ shy dork just like me.” She grinned at him again, her eyes kind of twinkling. He looked away from her. Her comments were a little too close to home.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I try not to put myself in a box.”

  “Is it the same for boys?” she asked him, her eyes searching his face again. “Did you have those days, those moments when you felt self-conscious, like God had placed you in some alien’s body? Did you ever have a time when you felt like everybody was staring at you and all you wanted to do was hide?”

  “Don’t we all, love? Isn’t that what being a teenager is all about?”

  She reached over, squeezing his hand. “We’re all freaks, aren’t we? Some of us just hide it better than others.”

  Amen.

  He slipped his hand from beneath hers, realizing that the longer they touched the more he would want to touch her. And that was a bad thing, so he lifted the unfinished wooden stool he had picked up a few weeks ago to show her. “Let’s talk about our bargain. I’ll fix your music box if you’ll paint this stool for me. I’ve got a designer who’s on my back to start selling decorative items. I don’t do decorative.”

  “But I’ve seen your work, Colin. You’re amazing. You could if you wanted to.”

  Her compliment was very nice for his pride, but he shrugged it off. “I fix things. I don’t do flowers and girlie shit and I hate detail work, but since you’re here you can do it.”

  Cherri sat down and opened the box, studying the supplies inside. He noticed the way she nodded in approval of his paint supplies. He also noticed the slight glow of anticipation in her eyes as she looked at the stool. She loved to create.

  She removed the sandpaper from the box to smooth out a rough spot in the wood. Her long-fingered hands worked smoothly and efficiently, as if she were an old pro. His respect for her went up a few notches.

  “So you’re telling me that you’re going to take hours of my hard labor and sell it to somebody else?”

  “Yup, and for lots of cash too.” He nodded. “I’ll give you credit as the artist of course.”

  “I smell an unfair trade coming on, but if you fix my grandmother’s music box, I’ll be more than happy to do this. I might even give you my firstborn.”

  He watched her smooth on the first coat of primer before returning his attention to the broken box. “It’s a clean break, love. It shouldn’t be hard to fix.”

  A worried look passed over her face. “It’s not the box itself, but the song it plays. I can’t bring it back to her unless it plays.”

  “What song is it?”

  “Don’t laugh.” She wrinkled her nose. “But it’s the theme from Love Story.”

  “Really?” He couldn’t help but smile. His lovelorn father adored that song, singing it when he was deep into his cups after a breakup. “Where do I begin…” He sang the first verse, imitating Andy Williams, as bittersweet memories invaded him. He nearly forgot he wasn’t alone in his shop. And despite another person’s presence he still got that little charge when he sang and his voice bounced off the walls of the shop.

  “Holy crap.” Cherri rested her hand on her cheek while a mischievous little smile played on her lips as she watched him. “Tell me, do you sing to all your ladies in that beautiful tenor or are you trying to charm me out of my pants?”

  He was never sure if her words were intentional or not. Either way, she was messing with his head. And he cursed himself for allowing it to be messed with.

  He’d never sung to anybody before. Never. Singing was his dirty little secret. His personal pleasure. Something he did only when he was alone in his shop or in the shower. Not even Serena knew about his hobby, and she was the woman he’d planned to marry. “I don’t usually burst out in song,” he said, disgruntled. “My life isn’t a bloody episode of Glee.”

  “Too bad,” she sighed. “If you can’t fix the music box maybe you could come over and sing that song to my grandmother once a week. I’m sure she’d like that just as much.” She tilted her head to the side and studied him. “Especially if you did it in the nude. Baba told me that she wanted you to get fresh with her.” She looked at him sideways, a little naughtiness in her eyes. “She said you have nice big hands, and nice big feet, and that you must have a nice big—”

  “Cherri!”

  “Hey, I’m just reporting what she said. And, boy did she say a lot. My seventy-five-year-old grandmother still has a sex drive. I don’t know if I should applaud her or throw up a little.”

  “Applaud her, girl. She’s madder than a bag of cats but there’s something I like about her.”

  “There is.” She smiled softly, and
if he wasn’t mistaken there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. He started to ask what was wrong, but he stopped himself. The more he talked to her, the more he wanted to know about her. He wasn’t somebody she could get involved with.

  He was thinking of settling down.

  She needed to sow her wild oats.

  His best mate disapproved.

  It wasn’t worth the trouble.

  He returned his attention to the music box. They worked for a few minutes in comfortable silence while Colin dismantled the base. It looked as if it had been overwound. Not a difficult fix, with a little oil it would …

  The beginning notes of the song twinkled out across the room and before he could register what was happening a soft mass of unruly blond hair had tackled him, peppering his face with dozens of happy kisses.

  “You did it! Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” Colin sat there for a moment, oddly content to let her spread her warm affection all over him. But when her lips brushed his, and a jolt of pure need surged through him, he regained his senses.

  “Enough.” He held her at arm’s length. “Stop kissing me.” He swiped his hand over his mouth, trying to remove the warm tingle that she left behind.

  “Jeeze, Colin.” She looked hurt for a flash of a moment. “I realize I’m not your type, but you don’t have to wipe your mouth like I have the frickin’ plague.” She took a slight step back and raised her nose haughtily. “I’ll have you know the other guy I kissed this morning was happy to be kissing me.”

  Mine, he thought primally. The hairs on the back of his neck rose at her statement. “Who were you kissing this morning?”

  “Nobody.” She raised her eyebrows. “Why? Are you jealous?”

  “No,” he lied. “I think of you like my baby sister,” he lied again, much bigger that time. “I just want to know who’s been slobbering over you.”

  “You’re just like Mike.” Her eyes flashed with annoyance. He could feel her frustration and didn’t like that he was the cause of it. “I’m a grown woman, baby sister or not. It’s none of your business who I’ve been with.”

  He knew that. He knew she was capable of even more than she gave herself credit for. He wished he could only see her as a girl. It would make life so much easier for him.

  “Why are you looking at me like that? Say something.”

  He couldn’t say what he wanted. He couldn’t tell her what he really thought about her so instead he said, “Give me a few more minutes with the music box and then it’ll be all patched up.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Looking for love in all the wrong places …

  “Do you think I should sign up for one of those online dating sites?” Belinda asked Cherri as they dressed one of the mannequins.

  “Do you want to?” Cherri asked neutrally. Belinda had been so anti-love since she had known her that the question surprised her. Belinda never talked much about her past, but Cherri knew that somewhere in Belinda’s history some guy had stepped on her heart. And it was a shame: Belinda was a great catch.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m turning thirty. Ellis is married. All my college friends are married. I’m feeling a little left out. Plus I’m afraid that if I don’t start using these eggs soon they’ll dry up and I’ll be a barren, loveless spinster. Maybe I’ll go buy some sperm and have a kid on my own. Maybe I’ll be like Josephine Baker or Angelina Jolie and adopt a bunch of kids.”

  Cherri blinked at her friend as her head spun with information. “Do you want to get married? Do you want to have kids? Seriously? You?”

  “Who said anything about getting married?” Belinda asked defensively. “I’m talking about a baby or some well-behaved dogs like Oprah has. With really regal dog names like Maximilian and Wilhelmina. What’s with the twenty questions? You’re one of my besties. We talk about shit like this.”

  “No, we talk about the hot guys on True Blood and where to get panties that won’t give you a wedgie and the best place to get a grilled cheese sandwich. We have never talked about you procreating. What’s going on with you? A couple of weeks in Spain and you’re talking about huge life changes?”

  “I don’t know.” She sighed. “Being away from home puts things in perspective a little. It just got me thinking about stuff.”

  “If you want to do something that will make you happier, I’m all for it. The only thing that matters is that you’re happy.” She could see Belinda as a great mommy. She could see Belinda taking the world over, too. She just had to put her mind to it.

  “I love you, kid.” Belinda kissed her cheek. “I think we need to have a sleepover and talk. But let’s not invite Ellis. Her newlywed bliss makes her too damn cheerful.”

  “She wouldn’t leave Mike for an entire night anyway. Would you mind coming to my house? I don’t want to leave Baba alone.”

  “Um, of course we’re having it at your house. I’ve been craving Baba’s cheesy potato balls for weeks. Plus that woman likes to drink. I appreciate that in a senior citizen.”

  The bell over the door rang, alerting them that a customer had arrived.

  “You go.” Belinda shooed her away. “I’ll finish up here.”

  “I need a sexy dress that will put the zippity back in my husband’s do da,” the customer said by way of greeting. Judging by her thick New York City accent, she wasn’t a local. Cherri loved tourists. They tended to spend more, which upped her commission, which made tiny bits of her debt vanish.

  “I think we can manage that. We just got a new shipment in.” Cherri led the woman to the new arrivals. “We can knock his damn socks off, too, if you want.”

  After a few moments of browsing the woman turned to Cherri. “Okay, honey. I need your honest-to-God opinion. No bullshit, okay?”

  “No bullshit.” She smiled as she placed her hand over her heart. “Scout’s honor. I’m Cherri by the way.”

  “Melina.” She yanked a dress off the rack and held it in front of her. “Am I too old for this dress? Remember, no bullshit.”

  The dress was silk satin, baby doll pink, obscenely low cut, and very short. It also cost three hundred dollars and she could use the commission.

  If you can’t say anything nice …

  But you can’t let this lady walk out in public in that.

  “Um … I find only women with dark skin can pull off baby doll pink. Maybe you should try a darker color.” She pulled a less expensive long-sleeved shirred-side black dress off the next rack. “It may not look like much on the hanger, but trust me, with your figure jaws will hit the floor.”

  The customer raised a brow. “You didn’t exactly answer my question, did you?”

  Busted. “You really want honesty?

  Melina nodded. “No bullshit.”

  “Okay. This kind of pink is for prom queens and princesses. Plus after you hit twenty you’ve got to pick either legs or boobs to show off—not both.”

  “I’m forty-nine. Which do you think I should pick?”

  “I’d go for the legs. This dress paired with some kickass stilettos and you’ll have men eating out of your hands.”

  The woman stared at her for a moment. “Are you single?”

  “Oh … Um … I-I,” she stuttered. Lost for words didn’t begin to describe how she was feeling.

  “Not me, honey!” Melina laughed. “I’m taken but I’ve got a twenty-four-year-old boy who would go gaga for you. You’re tall, you’re blond. You’ve got big knockers. He’d die.”

  “Phew! You’re cute but you aren’t my type.”

  “But you’re the type of girl I would like for my son. You could have let me walk out of here with a dress that would have earned you some serious cash, but you chose to save me from making a total ass out of myself. Are you Jewish?” She waved her hand. “Bah! Never mind, you can always convert.”

  “Do you think you could do that, love?” Colin’s voice drifted through the store, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. “Change faiths? I’m not sure I could. The most I’ve ev
er done for a female is change my sheets. That could be why I’m single.”

  “Hi.” She turned slowly to face him, her stupid heart thumping. She definitely hadn’t expected to see him today, on her turf, not after their last meeting in his shop. She’d thought about him all night after she left him, about how he thought of her like a baby sister, about how despite that she still had a thing for him. It was damn annoying. “Are you looking for Mike? He’s not here right now. He’s at the bank.”

  Colin’s dark eyes studied her face, and heat crept up her neck. “What if I came here to see you?”

  “I would call you a big fat liar. Unless you want me to help you pick out a new frock for a cocktail party, there is no reason you came to see me.”

  “Actually, love, I did come here just for you. I need your help finding shoes to go with my new handbag.” He winked at her, a small smile playing on his lips. “But take care of this beautiful lady first. I’ll be right here waiting.”

  Cherri turned away, trying like hell not to blush. She hated when guys winked at her; it seemed so smarmy. But not when he did it. It looked … sexy when he did it.

  “Holy shit! Forget about my son,” the customer whispered as soon as Cherri turned back to her. “Hell, I’m going to forget about my husband. Please tell me you’ve seen that gorgeous man naked.”

  “We’re just friends,” she said, telling the truth. They would always be just friends.

  “Oh, look at you! You’re blushing,” she said in a singsong voice. “Do you like him? He looks very likable.”

  She was blushing.

  Shit. Her face was on fire. But why?

  He came here. To see her? It was weird.

  “Yeah, he’s likable. I like him as much as every other woman in the world.” She gave the lady a gentle push toward the dressing room. “Now get in there, you nosy thing.”