by Beverly Farr
Suddenly she remembered waking up on her honeymoon in the hotel. He was gone, then, too. He’d gotten up before her and taken a shower. She searched her mind to see if she remembered any other details, but there were none.
But at least there was hope. Gradually bits and pieces of those days were returning.
She hugged the pillow to her, breathing in the musky male scent of him left on the pillowcase. She listened -- was he taking a shower? No, there was no water running. Too bad. That meant she couldn’t slip out of bed and join him.
She blushed at the thought. Stepping into his shower would be forward, but by all accounts, she had been forward before. Gina had said she’d been all over Lars on the dance floor, and on their second honeymoon, Lars had been surprised by her shyness.
Which meant she hadn’t been shy before.
Kelly considered her options. As it was, she and Lars were currently no better than roommates. She could take the safe route, continuing things as they were, and ten years from now, they would still be roommates. Or she could take a few risks, and try to seduce her husband. From his earlier reactions, she didn’t think he’d mind.
Kelly laughed. Now to put her plan into action.
#
Lars called Kelly from work at four-thirty. “Is everything ready for tonight?”
“Yes. Mrs. Levine left everything in the refrigerator with detailed instructions. All I have to do is put it in the oven at the right time.”
“Great. Then, I’ll see you at seven tonight.”
When Lars had mentioned taking a few people out to eat, she had offered to give a dinner party. “No, we’ll go to a restaurant,” he’d said. “I don’t want you to do too much. You need to rest.”
But she’d insisted, telling him that with Mrs. Levine’s help, it wouldn’t be any trouble at all. Virtually stress free, she assured him.
And so far, other than trying to finish decorating the main living areas, the stress hadn’t been too bad.
This night was going to be perfect, she thought happily. She was going to be the perfect hostess, the perfect wife. Lars would look across the dining room table at her and realize that she was everything he’d ever wanted. And later, after the guests had gone home, she’d model the new nightgown she’d bought.
She grinned mischievously. He didn’t stand a chance.
For a moment, Kelly wished her mother was home so she could get some last minute advice, but that was just nervousness on her part. She’d been watching her mother throw dinner parties for years; she knew what to do.
She spent an hour setting the table, getting the tablecloth just right and arranging the china and crystal.
She checked the salad and the cheesecake in the refrigerator. Both perfect. She put two large curlers in the top of her hair and was flat ironing the sides when it was time to put the curried chicken casserole in the oven. She ran down stairs, took care of that, and hurried back upstairs to finish getting dressed.
She was all dressed in a sheath made of pastel silk, when she realized that the dress was too tight across her stomach. She did not want to look fat tonight -- even if she was. She looked nervously at the clock. Guests were due to arrive in forty five minutes.
She’d have to find something else to wear.
She stripped out of the dress and threw it on her bed. She pulled out one of her looser skirts. Needed to be ironed. It joined the dress on her bed.
Another skirt. It fit fine, but the blouse that went with it needed to be washed.
Another skirt. Black three tiered skirt with an ornately beaded hem. It looked fine. There was a black knit top to match, but then she remembered that the table’s centerpiece was all pale yellow and pink roses to match the silk dress she had intended to wear.
She nearly swore with frustration. Her mother made it look so easy. She always dressed to compliment rather than clash with the table setting.
Kelly hurried downstairs to the dining room. The roses would definitely have to go, but what could she use instead?
She remembered the little black pots that held her make-up and skin care lotions in the bathroom. Those would make pretty candle holders, especially if she arranged them with the red scarf she sometimes wore in her hair. She ran back upstairs and down, and was breathlessly putting the finishing touches on the centerpiece when Lars opened the front door.
“Kelly honey, I’m home,” he called.
How husbandly that sounded, she thought happily, and turned to face him with a smile.
Lars stood with another gentleman and his wife. Lars frowned. “I guess you need a few more minutes to get ready,” he said, staring at her hair.
Kelly put her hand to her head. The curlers. She’d forgotten to take them out, and now she’d have bush hair. How embarrassing. Every party has its little mishaps, her mother used to say. The important thing is to be calm and flexible. “Excuse me,” Kelly said with what she hoped was a gracious smile. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
She hurried upstairs, and came back down, fifteen minutes later, without the curlers. Think calm, she told herself as she forced herself to walk slowly. Think elegant. Think poised.
Lars looked calm, elegant and poised in his navy pinstripe suit. But then he always looked that way. He smiled as she approached and put his arm around her waist. “And this lovely woman is my wife,” he said proudly.
Kelly was duly introduced to a banker, a set of married attorneys, and a man with such large eyebrows that she didn’t catch his profession. The banker’s wife said, “You have a beautiful home.”
“Thank you.” There was no need to tell her that the accent pillows for the couch and the carved wooden flowers on the coffee table had been delivered that morning. It all looked fine now.
“Do you need any help in the kitchen?” one of the other women asked.
“No, I’ll just check on the casserole,” she said, and walked in the kitchen. Strange, she couldn’t smell anything. She opened the oven door, and the casserole was still cool. Room temperature. She checked the controls. She’d set the temperature, but had forgotten to turn the oven on.
Damn.
The casserole took more than an hour to cook, and she wasn’t sure how safe it would be to cook it now since it had been sitting out so long. She didn’t want to give everyone food poisoning.
Kelly looked in the refrigerator. Other than the salad and dessert, she didn’t have enough of anything to feed eight people.
She was definitely not her mother.
She sat down on one of the kitchen stools and started to laugh. Lars glanced in. “What’s so funny?” he asked.
“How does pizza sound?”
#
It was a good thing she had changed clothes, Kelly decided, because the banker’s wife was wearing the exact same dress she had planned to wear. She looked better in it, too, with a bigger bust and a flatter stomach. She was beautifully dressed: not a hair out of place and perfectly manicured nails. She was also spending a lot of time talking to Lars, resting her graceful hand on his arm. They looked like the ideal couple and could easily pose for the cover of FORBES magazine.
If Kelly were the jealous type, she’d scratch her eyes out.
Lars smiled as he spoke with her.
Kelly wanted to scratch her eyes out.
“Are you all right?” The woman married to Bushy Eyebrows asked.
“Yes, I’m fine,” Kelly said, smiling at her guest. Part of being a good hostess was acting as if nothing bothered you.
“Excuse me,” the woman said. “I don’t mean to stare, but you have the most interesting earrings. Where did you get them?”
Kelly reached up to her ears. What pair was she wearing today? A dangly pair with turquoise and silver beads. “Oh, these are some a friend of mine made. She makes jewelry.”
The woman pulled out a business card. “I run an internet business. We sell clothing and some home decorating items. If your friend would be interested, I would love to meet her.”
Kelly glanced at the card. Oh, yes, now she remembered her guest’s name was Sarah. In the confusion of being late to her own party, she’d forgotten everyone’s name the minute Lars introduced them.
“Kelly’s an artisan, too,” Lars said, walking towards them. The banker’s wife followed after him.
“Oh, really?” Sarah asked politely. “What do you do?”
“She made the pots on the table,” he said. “And the planters by the foyer.” He pointed. “The vases on the bookshelves, and the candy dish on the coffee table.”
The banker’s wife said with astonishment, “You made all these?” in a tone that implied, Why bother?
Kelly had encountered that superior attitude before. She lifted her chin. “Yes, I’m a potter by trade.”
Lars put his arm around her. “She’s being modest. She’s more than just a potter. She wove the rug in the dining room --”
Kelly interrupted. “Shh, you don’t need to tell them everything I do.”
“Why not?” he said, giving her a quick kiss. “I think you’re amazing.”
That was nice to hear, but it was embarrassing, none the less. Kelly noticed that the banker’s wife, having seen the kiss, wandered off towards the attorney, to sink her claws into him.
Good for you, Kelly thought cattily as she laid a possessive hand on Lars’ arm. Go after someone else’s husband.
Sarah said, “I don’t know if you’d be willing to mass produce items, but I’d be interested in seeing more of your work, too.”
Lars smiled proudly. See, I told you so, his gaze seemed to say.
Kelly didn’t know if he was happy that someone else liked her work, or pleased that there might be another market in which to sell it.
Two hours later, Lars stuffed a cardboard pizza box into a trash bag. “I usually hate dinner parties,” he confessed, “But that wasn’t so bad. I think everyone had a good time.”
Kelly had kicked off her shoes and sat at the kitchen table, head in her hands. “Oh, please, don’t try to cheer me up. It was a disaster, and you know it.”
“What was so terrible?”
“First of all, I look awful.”
He reached over to touch her hair. “I think you look cute. Very retro.”
Cute was not what she’d been aiming for tonight. Sexy, beautiful, elegant. Anything but cute. “I couldn’t remember anyone’s name.”
He shrugged. “Next time, we’ll wear name tags.”
How could he be so calm about it? “We ate pizza on china!”
“I don’t think anyone minded. Everyone was talking and having fun. And Sarah Crosby was very impressed with your pots.”
Kelly shook her head. “She was being polite.”
“It’s a lead worth following.”
She was right. He’d been trying to promote her business. She changed the subject. “I hope tonight didn’t ruin your chances of getting the financing you need.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it. Larry Hawkins had two pieces of cheesecake.”
Kelly remembered that Larry Hawkins was the banker, twice the age and twice the size of his pretty wife.
Lars smiled. “He went home fat and happy.”
“Thanks to Mrs. Levine,” she said. “Next time, I’ll pay her extra to supervise the whole event. I can’t believe I didn’t turn on the oven. You must think I’m a ditz. “
“You were distracted. It could happen to anyone.”
“But I wanted tonight to be perfect,” she wailed dramatically.
“Why?”
She took a deep breath. “I wanted to make you proud of me.”
“I am proud of you.”
“But I’m not the right wife for the President of Rawlins Lighting.”
“Ah, so that’s the problem. Tell me, what is the right wife like?”
She ticked off the qualifications on her fingers. “A perfect hostess. Wears the right clothes, remembers people’s names. Gets her nails done.”
He took her hands in his. Her fingernails were short; her palm and fingers calloused from her work. He said, “You have very nice hands. These are working hands, creative hands.” He kissed her fingers.
She jerked them away. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”
He shook his head. “Kelly, if I’d wanted to marry your mother, I wouldn’t have married you.”
“So why did you marry me?” she asked. “I still don’t understand.”
He cupped her face with his hands. “I’ll give you a hint,” he said, and brought his lips to hers.
Mmmmm, this was what she’d been waiting for. Kelly sighed and drew closer, wrapping her arms around his waist. He felt so warm and strong and male. Lars groaned and deepened the kiss.
Kelly felt as if she’d stuck her finger in an electric socket. Her entire body sizzled and she didn’t want to let go. This was definitely the time to give up the shy routine. She smiled against his lips, briefly breaking contact.
He pulled back for a second, his blue eyes questioning her. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know about you, but I think we are both wearing too many clothes.” She untucked his dress shirt and slid her hands up against his muscled flesh.
Lars caught her hands. “Kelly, do you know what you’re doing?” he asked in a husky voice.
She laughed recklessly. “No, but I’m going to find out.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss his chin, his neck, his ear, whatever she could reach.
Lars backed away, but she caught his tie. “I’ve got you now. You’re not going anywhere,” she teased.
His eyes narrowed. “The last time we started doing this, I ended up on the wrong side of a locked door.”
“Coward. Where’s your sense of --”
In a sudden move, Lars grabbed her around her legs and lifted her up over his shoulder.
“--adventure?” She gasped. “Lars, what are you doing?”
He growled. “Carrying you up to bed. Do you have a problem with that?”
Kelly giggled. “No, no problem at all.”
He carried her upstairs, kicked open the door to the master bedroom and dropped her on the bed. “What’s all this mess?” he asked, as he loosened his tie and pulled it off over his head.
In the rush to get ready for the party, she’d left clothes, shoes and curlers strewn over the bed. “Don’t worry about it,” she said and pushed the offending articles onto the floor. “I’ll put it away later.”
“Good idea,” he said, and tossed his tie onto the pile.
She should be more nervous, Kelly thought as she watched him slip off his shoes and socks and start undoing the buttons on his shirt. But all she could think was that this big beautiful Viking was her husband.
He was hers, and she intended to keep him.
He reached for the light switch. “On or off?” he asked.
“I’m a Rawlins, what do you think?”
He smiled. “On it is.”
CHAPTER NINE
Good heavens, Kelly thought when it was all over, and her heart stopped racing and she could breathe normally. How could I have forgotten that?
She looked at Lars who lay beside her, smiling. He ran a finger lazily across her bare shoulder and down her arm.
“Wow,” she said weakly.
He laughed and kissed her leisurely. “How I’ve missed you, Kelly.”
She snuggled closer, resting her head on his gently rising chest. She felt so safe and secure, so completely comfortable with this big, gentle man. Together she and Lars shared more than passion. Their friendship had grown into something infinitely more precious. How blind I’ve been, she realized, and whispered, “I love you, Lars.”
She felt him stiffen.
She noticed that he wasn’t saying, “I love you, too.”
She asked, “Do the words make you uncomfortable?”
His voice was flat, expressionless. “Only because I’ve heard it before.”
“From me.”
He nodded.
O
n their honeymoon, no doubt. She never would have said it if she hadn’t meant it, so that meant she’d loved Lars when she married him. That made her feel a little better about their quickie wedding. “Then why did I want to get a divorce? There must be something you aren’t telling me.”
With one fluid motion, he sat up, gathered his clothes, and began to dress. “You’re not the first woman to love two men at the same time.”
She reached for him, to bring him back to bed. “But I don’t love Nigel any more.”
“You did then.”
Were they never going to get past that weekend? “I thought we were starting over with a clean slate.”
He stood up, zipping his pants. “You’re the one asking too many questions.”
Kelly dropped her hand back to the bed. He was right. She couldn’t have it both ways. She tried again. “Lars, please don’t go.”
“If you’ll excuse me,” he said politely, “I’ll say good night.”
She couldn’t believe what she heard. How could he leave her after what they’d just shared? “Aren’t you going to sleep here?”
“If you want me to,” he said coolly. “But there’s something I need to do for work.”
“It’s after midnight,” she protested.
“Then I’ll say good morning.” He nodded briefly, then left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
Kelly hurled the alarm clock at the door. She shouted, “How can we start over if you’re working all the time?”
#
Lars stared unseeingly at the computer screen before him.
I love you, Lars. Kelly’s voice echoed in his mind. Love was an overused word, and he couldn’t fathom its meaning.
How many times had his parents told him they loved him? But each of them tried to push their parental responsibilities onto the other. “You’re his father. You take him to his baseball games.” “It’s not my weekend, it’s yours.” “Yes, I know I agreed to take him, but this week is inconvenient.”
