Bunco Babes Tell All

by Maria Geraci

“Okay,” Pilar said, turning to Kitty, “when was the last time you had a date?”

  “Her last date was with Jeff,” Shea said, her shoulders slumping.

  “When was that, a year ago? Please tell us you’ve gotten laid since then,” Pilar said.

  Kitty put her hand up in the air. “We’ve had this conversation before. I’m not moving just in hopes of meeting a guy. If Mr. Right comes along, fine. But if he doesn’t, I’m not going to curl up and die. I have a great job and a great life right here. And I have you guys. What more do I need?”

  “Woman cannot live by Bunco alone,” Pilar said.

  “Speaking of great jobs,” Shea said, “I saw you got the listing for that house on the corner of Ocean Avenue. Moose was really impressed.”

  “Then Moose is easily impressed,” Kitty said, grateful for the change in topic. “It’s a good property, but the owners want too much. It’ll be a hard sale.”

  “You can do it. After all, you are the Jerry Maguire of north Florida real estate,” Shea said cheerfully. She pulled a business card from her shorts pocket and handed it to Kitty. “I keep one on me all the time, in case I run into a potential client for you.”

  Kitty moaned. “I love your loyalty, but I really have to find something better than ‘Help me help you find the house of your dreams,’ ” she said, quoting the tagline on the bottom of the card.

  “Yeah, you do. That really sucks, Kit,” Pilar said, standing up. She stretched her arms above her head and yawned. “I have to go.”

  “It’s not even midnight yet. And you’re the one who came up with that line,” she reminded Pilar.

  “Isabel is babysitting tonight and she gets nasty if I stay out too late.”

  “You’re lucky your mom will babysit,” Shea said. “Do you know what a good sitter charges these days?”

  “Isabel charges in guilt. And she gets overtime for every second after eleven.”

  “Where’s Nick?” Kitty asked.

  “At a teaching conference,” Pilar said. “I hate his job.”

  “He hates your job.”

  “Yeah, well, he can kiss my Cuban ass. He knew what he was getting when he married me.”

  “A workaholic attorney who doesn’t cook, doesn’t clean, and doesn’t do laundry?”

  “But I give great head. That’s all guys care about anyway. Since you don’t like their ‘things’ in your face, you wouldn’t know that.”

  Kitty stiffened. “I’ve had bad experiences. Which you know all about since you know everything about my sex life.”

  “Well, get over them, because guys definitely like to stick their thing in your face,” Pilar said. “It’s no wonder you’re not married.”

  “Okay, that’s enough. I’m officially kicking you guys out.”

  “I need to get home anyway,” Shea said. “I’m pretty sure I’m ovulating right now and I want to catch Moose before he falls asleep.”

  Kitty and Pilar turned to stare at her.

  “Moose and I want another baby,” Shea announced.

  “You’re kidding,” Pilar said.

  “He wants a boy. We both want a boy,” Shea clarified. “Besides, it’s not like we can’t afford it. Moose is doing great. People always need financial advice.”

  Pilar shook her head. “You’re a better woman than I am. I’m done.”

  “You’re not going to have another baby?” Shea asked. “But that will make Anthony an only child.”

  “So what? Kitty’s an only child and she turned out perfect.” Pilar kissed Kitty on the cheek. “Bye, doll. We’re still meeting for lunch tomorrow, right?”

  “I guess so,” Kitty said, feeling a little deflated even if she was the one kicking them out. But it was late, and Pilar had to relieve Isabel and Shea had to go home and have sex with Moose.

  “Of course we’re meeting for lunch,” Shea said. “Tomorrow’s your official birthday, and we haven’t missed a birthday lunch since . . . well, never.”

  “I’m meeting with a potential client at ten,” Kitty said, “so I should be finished by noon.”

  “Noon is perfect. How about the Italian place next to my office?” Pilar asked.

  “Pasta? But we just had pizza tonight. Are you guys trying to—” At the look on Pilar’s face, Kitty faked a smile and added, “Sounds yummy.”

  “Who’s the new client?” Shea asked Kitty. “Maybe it’s someone Moose recommended you to.”

  “His name’s Ted Ferguson. Ever heard of him?”

  Shea shook her head.

  “From what I gathered on the phone, he’s from out of town and wants to invest in a beach house.”

  “Maybe he’ll want to look at that listing on Ocean Avenue,” Pilar suggested.

  “I could only be so lucky,” Kitty said wistfully. “I got the impression on the phone that he’s still in the process of interviewing Realtors. After meeting me, he might decide I’m not right for him.”

  “Ha!” scoffed Pilar. “He’ll love you. Everyone does.”

  Shea nodded vehemently.

  “And I love you both for thinking that.” Kitty waved them good-bye as she watched them get in their cars.

  Shea had cleaned up, which left her nothing to do, but she was too restless to sleep so she flipped on the TV. As if mocking her, Kevin Costner and Susan Sarandon were going at it in living color.

  What were the odds that Bull Durham would be playing on cable tonight?

  She should turn it off. It was exactly this sort of Holly-wood malarkey that had given her unrealistic expectations about men.

  On the other hand, what could it hurt to watch just one more time?

  She upped the volume.

  The doorbell rang. Kitty peeled herself off the sofa. Shea was always leaving something behind.

  “What did you forget?” she asked, throwing open the door.

  But it wasn’t Shea at her doorstep.

  “My snake,” said Steve the Plumber.

  6

  “Your what?”

  “You know, the thing I unclogged your toilet with?” Steve said.

  After a few moments of staring at him like an idiot, Kitty stepped back to let him inside the house. “Oh yeah.”

  Of course. That snake.

  He wiped his feet on the mat, his gaze taking in the empty living room and her blaring TV. It was Kitty’s favorite scene in the movie. The part where Susan Sarandon was tied to the bed and Kevin Costner was painting her toenails. Kitty felt her face go hot. She dove across the couch to find the remote and turned off the set.

  “Sorry to bother you so late, but I was driving by and saw your light was still on, and I wasn’t sure if I’d catch you before you left for work in the morning.”

  “No problem.”

  “Do you mind?” he asked, motioning toward the back of the house. “It’ll just take a minute and then I’ll get out of your way.”

  “Sure,” she said, feeling her pulse speed up as she watched him disappear down the hallway.

  Talk about kismet. Why else had he landed on her doorstep twice in one night?

  A bead of sweat trickled down her forehead, snapping her back into the moment. Shit. This was no global warming. She knelt on the wooden floor and placed her palm over the air-conditioning vent. The air swooshing out was definitely not cold.

  “Something the matter?” Steve asked, walking back into the room.

  “I think my air conditioner’s broken.”

  He set the snake on the floor and crouched next to her, placing his hand alongside hers. A tingle of energy shot straight up her arm. His hand was big and calloused, his nails neat and clean. “I think you’re right,” he said.

  Neither of them made a move to stand. Or move their hands away from the vent. “I can’t believe this.” She laughed nervously. “First my toilet, now my air conditioner.”

  “A house this old needs a lot of updating. But you must have known that when you bought it.”

  “I didn’t buy it. The house belongs to my mothe
r. My grandmother left it to her after she passed away last year. I’m just living here temporarily while I fix it up to put on the market.”

  “It’s a pretty big place for just one person,” he said, giving her a hand up.

  Was that his way of asking her if she lived alone?

  “It’s over two thousand square feet. I’d love to buy it, but I really can’t afford it.”

  “Your mother won’t cut you a break on the price?”

  She couldn’t tell if he was really interested in the house or if he was just making small talk to keep from leaving. As much as she identified with his appreciation of the house, she definitely liked option number two better.

  “My mother thinks I should leave Whispering Bay, marry a banker, and have babies.”

  He grinned. “What do you think?”

  I think I’d like to get you naked. Definitely no stripperphobia for her. At least not where Steve Pappas was concerned. She tried to shake the image out of her head. “Um, I think I’d like to gut the kitchen and update the bathrooms.”

  “That would work. But there’s a lot more you could do to bring this place up to speed.”

  “Like what?”

  He pointed to the small den sitting off the living room. “If you knocked that wall out it would expand your living area and bring in more light.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t do that,” Kitty said, frowning.

  He glanced at her.

  “I mean, that’s where Shea and Pilar and I always had our slumber parties. When we were kids, of course.”

  “You grew up in this house?”

  She nodded. “From the time I was ten. That’s when my parents divorced and my mom and I came here to live with my grandmother. My mom remarried when I was fourteen and we moved in with my stepfather, but I still spent a lot of time here.”

  He leaned his head back to look at the ceiling. “Your mother could just sell it as is and save you the headache of renovating. Let someone else worry about it.”

  “That’s what everyone keeps telling me. But I hate the thought of her selling it like this and not knowing what the new owners would do. This place was really something twenty years ago, but my grandmother didn’t have the resources to keep it up. I want to see this house done right again.”

  The way he was visually measuring the walls made her wonder if he really knew what he was talking about, or if he was just feeding her a load of bull. “How do you know so much about architecture? I mean, the average person doesn’t know who Addison Mizner is.”

  “I lived in Boca Raton for a few months. They love this kind of stuff down there.”

  “Do you have construction experience?”

  “Some.”

  “Maybe you could recommend a contractor. I know a couple from my line of work, but I’m having a hard time finding one who’s willing to renovate an old house on a shoestring budget. They all want to do new construction.”

  “What do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a real estate broker,” she said, spying her business card on the coffee table. She picked it up and handed it to him, pleased with herself for thinking of it. It seemed like a clever, not-too-obvious way to give him her phone number.

  “‘Help me help you find the house of your dreams’?” he read.

  Shit. She’d forgotten about that.

  “It’s a line from Jerry Maguire,” she said, feeling like a moron. “I’ve been meaning to change it.”

  He pocketed her card. “I’m afraid I don’t know any contractors in the area. You should ask Gus.” He picked up the snake as if to leave.

  She didn’t want him to go. No yet. She thought she’d detected some interest earlier tonight. The more she thought about it, the more she wondered if he hadn’t left the snake on purpose so he would have to come back.

  And Pilar was right. She hadn’t had sex in over a year. It was depressing.

  No, it was more than depressing. Her shelf life was dwindling, and fast.

  She’d never had a one-night stand before. But she wasn’t a kid. Who cared if Steve the Plumber wasn’t husband material? He was definitely have-a-roll-in-the-hay material. And he wasn’t a complete stranger. He was Gus’s nephew. Gus wouldn’t have a serial killer for a nephew. Would he?

  “Are you hungry?” she asked. “There’s tons of leftover pizza. Or maybe you want a drink? Some wine? A soda? Watered-down leftover secret margarita mix?”

  Me?

  “I just ate, but some water would be great.”

  He set down the snake and followed her into the kitchen, where he quickly tossed back a glass of ice water in one long, smooth swallow. Steve the Plumber had a great neck.

  Think, Kit. Make some small talk. “Wow, you were thirsty.” Ugh.

  “It’s pretty hot outside.”

  It was pretty hot in here too. And it wasn’t just because the air conditioner was broken.

  “So you’re helping Gus out?”

  “Just for a few weeks.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  He looked at her strangely. Oh God. She was being too personal. “I’m staying with Gus.”

  “Gus is a great guy.”

  “The best.”

  Could he not make a little more conversation? But then, she didn’t want him for his conversation.

  He placed the glass on the counter.

  Quick, say something witty!

  “Wait, don’t go.” She inwardly moaned. Not exactly razor sharp. Maybe she had only imagined he was interested. Maybe she was desperate and clutching at straws.

  “Is there something else you need me to fix? I’m afraid I don’t know much about air conditioners.”

  She shook her head. “No, nothing.”

  It was official. She sucked at one-night-stand seduction. Either he wasn’t interested or she wasn’t giving out the right signals. But other than throw herself at him, there wasn’t much else she could do.

  She was certain he was on the verge of leaving, so it surprised her when he asked, “Is that glass of wine still available?”

  “Sure.”

  All right. So maybe he was interested. But this was as far as she’d go. She’d invited him to stay for a drink. The rest was going to have to be up to him. She found a bottle of Merlot in the pantry and handed him a corkscrew.

  But instead of opening the bottle, he placed it on the kitchen counter, leaned in, and softly brushed his mouth over hers. “Is this what you want me to stay for? Because if it isn’t, just say so and I’ll leave.”

  Oh my God. When Steve the Plumber made his move, he didn’t mess around.

  “Yes!” she nearly shouted in relief.

  He frowned. “Are you drunk?”

  “Why? Would it make a difference?”

  “Maybe.” Then he added more firmly, “Yes.”

  “I’m not drunk.” At the uncertainty on his face, she said, “Honestly. I’m not. If I were drunk, I’d be crying.”

  “I’ll have to remember that.” He kissed her again. This time, the kiss was deeper, more urgent. He slipped his hand beneath the hem of her sundress and slowly slid his palm around to the back of her thigh and up to her bare bottom. “I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I met you.”

  “Kiss me?” she asked breathlessly.

  “No. Check out if you were wearing panties or not.”

  Her breath hitched. “Oh. Um, I’m not wearing a bra either.”

  “You’re right,” he murmured, palming her breast as he trailed kisses down her neck.

  “I normally do, of course,” Kitty said, unable to stop babbling. “Wear a bra, that is. But this was a casual thing, my Bunco party, and the sundress really covers everything up and it’s not like I really need a bra. I mean, my boobs aren’t much, you know.”

  They locked gazes, but he didn’t say anything. He started to lift the hem of her dress again.

  “Wait,” she said, wiggling out of his reach. It occurred to her they needed to clear up a few things. He might not be a seria
l killer, but maybe he was something worse . . . “You’re not married. Are you?”

  What if he said yes? What if he said no and it was a lie? What if—

  “You wait till now to ask that?” Before she could respond he added, “I’m not married. At least, not at the moment. Are you?” He glanced at the kitchen door as if expecting an irate husband to come barging through.

  “What kind of question is that? Of course not!”

  His dark eyes narrowed. “Maybe this is happening too fast. You seem nervous or something.”

  “I’m not nervous!” she squeaked. “This is the way I normally act. Look, I know what this is. I just want to have sex. I’m not like . . . planning on falling in love with you or anything.” She smiled and rolled her eyes to emphasize her point.

  “Good. Because I’m not planning on falling in love with you either.”

  He bent his head to kiss her, but she placed her hand on his chest to hold him off. “I feel sticky. Let me shower first.” She motioned to the refrigerator. “Help yourself to whatever you want. I won’t be long.”

  She scurried down the hallway and into the bathroom. Her reflection in the mirror above the sink looked like someone else, her face pale, her brown eyes huge. She was about to have sex with a man she’d only met a few hours ago.

  What the hell was she doing?

  Now wasn’t the time to think about that. She’d do a Scar-lett O’Hara and think about it tomorrow.

  Kitty pulled back the shower curtain to find the tub filled with the water-soaked towels she had thrown in earlier. She quickly wrung them out one by one and tossed them onto the floor. She turned on the water, letting it warm up, then flipped the shower knob and pulled off her sundress. Her hair was already twisted out of the way, so she got in the tub and lathered up.

  She usually knew a guy more than a few hours before she let him see her naked. What would he think of her? Her stomach was good. It was tight and flat from years of crunches. And her former boyfriends had always liked her legs. But no matter how Pilar tried to spin it, her boobs were still too small, and no matter how many squats her trainer made her do, her ass was still too big.

  The bathroom door clicked open.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” she heard Steve say from the other side of the shower curtain, “but I’m a little grimy too. I think I’ll join you.”