by Maria Geraci
She thought about his comment about her being in a good mood. He was right. She was happy. Other than the air-conditioning fiasco, today had been stellar.
She probably shouldn’t talk about it. Ted had warned her to keep the condo deal on the lowdown, but Steve didn’t live in Whispering Bay, so the condos weren’t going to affect him one way or another. Besides, she was too excited to keep it in a second longer. “I had some great news today. I’m just this far”—she brought her thumb and index finger to within a half inch of each other—“from closing on a big deal.”
“What sort of deal?” he asked.
“I don’t want to bore you with the details,” she said, remembering the glazed looks in some of her former boyfriends’ eyes whenever she talked too much about her job. Not that Steve was her boyfriend. Which would make him even less likely to be interested.
“It wouldn’t bore me.”
She took a sip of the wine. It was perfect. Not too sweet, not too dry. She mentally added “ability to pick out a good bottle of wine” to his list of talents. “Okay, well, remember what you said about me being smart and successful? That’s not exactly true. I mean, I’m smart, just not with money. Instead of investing my money when real estate was hot, I overspent.”
“Is that why you can’t afford to buy your grandmother’s house?”
“Moose says—”
“Moose?”
“My financial advisor.”
“You have a financial advisor named Moose?”
“He’s an ex-football player.” At the look on his face, she added, “It’s a long story. He’s also a good friend of mine and he’s married to my best friend, Shea.”
Steve nodded. “The hot one.”
Kitty narrowed her eyes. “Just how hot do you think she is?”
“It’s just a general observation. Leggy redheads with fake boobs aren’t my type.”
“Oh yeah, what is?”
“Leggy brunettes who know how to put a little bit of shake in their ass.”
Holy crap.
She chugged down her wine.
“Slow down.” He took the glass from her hand and placed it on the wooden railing. “I don’t want you drunk.”
“Why not?” she squeaked.
“Because then I couldn’t do this.” He leaned in and kissed her.
She kissed him back, but before it went too far she broke it off and took in a lungful of the sea air to clear her head. “Hold on. I thought I didn’t exactly rock your world.”
“You rocked it enough,” he said, moving back in to kiss her.
She placed her hand against his chest, fending him off again. “I did?”
“I was an ass to say that,” he admitted. “But at the time, you weren’t being very nice either.”
“If you’re just saying that to get laid, it’s not going to work.”
He began nuzzling her neck. “What do I need to say then?”
Damn it. She hated when he did that. Not because she didn’t like it, but because she couldn’t think. “I . . . I don’t know,” she gasped, curling her fingers in his hair.
He stopped kissing her neck. “How about this? I think you were terrific with Nathan the other night in the car, and for like five crazy minutes, I was actually jealous of the kid because you were paying so much attention to him. How about I’ve spent the whole day thinking about tonight and what I was going to cook to impress you.”
She gulped.
“And that all I’ve thought about since we stepped foot in the house was getting you out on this deck”—his voice dropped to a harsh whisper—“and fucking you until neither of us could walk straight.”
Double holy crap.
“That would work.” She threw her arms around his neck, nearly knocking him off his feet.
He laughed, then lowered himself into a chair and pulled her onto his lap, straddling her legs around him. He pushed her denim skirt up till it bunched around her waist then cupped her bottom in his hands. Did he really mean he wanted to have sex right here? Outside, on the patio?
She nervously glanced out into the dark, toward the ocean. “What if somebody walks by?”
“So what? Let ’em look the other way.”
She felt a tiny surge of excitement, but she still hesitated.
He sighed. “Even if someone did walk by, it would be too dark to see anything. If you’re worried about it, then we’ll just have to bring down the noise level. I can be quiet if you can.” This last part felt like some sort of challenge.
“Of course I can be quiet.”
He grinned. “You’re on.”
He pushed aside the crotch to her panties to slide a finger up inside her. Then he kissed her again. His tongue moved in and out of her mouth, keeping up the same rhythm he used with his finger. He withdrew, circled her clit, then dipped back inside. She squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on not making any noise.
But it wasn’t easy.
“You know what I like?” His voice sounded far off, like an echo in a cave.
“What?” she asked, vaguely wondering what he was referring to.
“I like the look on your face right before you come.”
Her eyes flew open.
They were nose to nose, her body wrapped around his. His forehead shone with perspiration. She could feel the sweat running down her back.
“You close your eyes real tight and look all worried, like it’s not going to happen for you.” He stopped the in-and-out motion and concentrated on her clit, flicking his finger back and forth.
She couldn’t help herself. She let out a half moan, half laugh.
“Then there’s the thing you do with your mouth.”
“My mouth?” She arched her hips forward, urging him to press harder.
“You suck in your bottom lip and bite on it some and it gets all rosy and kinda sexy-looking. But you know what I like the best?” he asked, reaching his other hand beneath her shirt. He found her nipple through the thin satin of her bra and tweaked it. “I like the way you laugh.”
Instinctively, she giggled.
Damn it.
But two could play at this game.
She eased down the zipper to his shorts and placed her hand over his erection. Steve drew in a sharp breath. Kitty had to fight back her smile.
She slid her hand down to cup his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze, then slid her hand slowly back up and down again. She repeated the motion over and over. “You know what I like?” she began. “I like—”
“My back pocket,” he rasped.
“I like your back pocket?”
“Condom . . . in my back pocket.”
She straightened, nearly dislodging herself off his lap. “You keep a condom in your back pocket?”
“Only when I think I might get lucky,” he said, catching his breath like he’d just run a marathon.
Lucky? She wasn’t sure she liked that. But then, where he was concerned she had been easy. It looked like their relationship was well on the way to becoming a two-night stand.
He tilted his hips, rubbing the tip of his penis against her wet clit.
Hell, who cared?
She found the small foil packet and tried to rip it open, but she couldn’t get a good grip on it. She brought it up to her mouth and tore the edge with her teeth, then tried to roll the condom on, but her fingers weren’t cooperating. Finally, Steve had to take over.
He circled her waist with his hands to steady her and tried to slide inside, but her panties were in the way. “Rip them off,” she croaked.
He laughed and reached his big hand down between them.
She heard the lace tear and tried to stifle her moan.
“Don’t hold back on account of me,” Steve said.
He was right. Who cared if someone heard them? It was private property and—
He drove into her.
In the end, she wasn’t sure who made more noise. Him or her.
Probably it was her.
H
e leaned his head against the back of the chair and held her close, the two of them plastered in a sweaty heap.
She sighed, too exhausted to move. “This time I heard sirens.”
His hand lingered on her back, slowly stroking up and down. “Huh?”
“I said, this time I heard—”
He jerked his head up. “Fuck,” Steve swore under his breath.
“I thought we just did that.”
He tossed her to her feet and threw on his shorts. “It’s not sirens. It’s the damn fire alarm!” he said, flinging back the patio doors.
A huge gust of smoke burst out into the warm night air.
23
Steve ran to the kitchen with Kitty hot on his heels. Or as fast as she could, considering her skirt was still bunched around her hips and she was somehow missing her flip-flops.
The dishcloth he had used to handle the pan was lying across the stove in flames. He turned off the burner and reached beneath the kitchen sink to retrieve a fire extinguisher. Within seconds, white frothy foam covered the stove top and half the adjoining counter.
“Open the windows,” he said, choking back a cough.
They aired out the house and cleaned up the kitchen, but no matter how hard Kitty scrubbed, a large black soot stain refused to budge from the cabinet above the stove.
“Forget about it,” Steve said, taking the cleaning rag from her hand and tossing it into the sink.
“I feel terrible. I shouldn’t have distracted you while you were cooking.”
“It was worth it,” he said, grinning.
She frowned. “This cabinet is custom-made. It’s going to be expensive to replace. And the entire downstairs is going to need to be aired out really well or else the smoke smell is going to linger.”
“I’ll take care of it in the morning.”
“Are you sure? Caro could get in a lot of trouble for this.”
“I’m sure.”
“But—”
“It’s no big deal. I told you, the house belongs to a buddy of mine.” The relaxed mood they’d shared earlier was gone. “Sorry about dinner,” he added.
“I’m really not hungry anymore,” Kitty said, feeling deflated. He thought ruining a kitchen cabinet in a house that didn’t belong to him was no big deal? It was so . . . irresponsible. At least she had the grace to feel guilty. “Maybe under the circumstances we should go home.”
He nodded, his face a combination of resignation and something else she couldn’t put her finger on. “Let’s take a walk on the beach first. It’ll be good to get some fresh air.”
Steve was right. After being in the smoky house, it felt good to be outside. They walked along the shore, sucking in the salty, damp air. She wondered briefly if he was going to hold her hand or try to kiss her. But he didn’t. They walked in silence broken only by occasional chitchat.
They stopped on the deck before heading back inside the house. Kitty found her torn panties on the floor, next to the chair.
“Sorry about that,” Steve said.
She shrugged. You couldn’t compare her ten-dollar panties with an expensive cabinet. She wadded the panties and stuck them in her purse. No way was she going to toss them in the trash for Caro to find.
It was weird. One minute they’d been having hot sweaty sex and the next it was like they were polite strangers. Maybe this was the way they were supposed to act. Sophisticated and all cool about it.
Only she didn’t feel sophisticated or cool. She felt let down. Pilar and Shea were right. She wasn’t cut out for one-night stands. Which could only mean she would doubly suck at this two-night-stand thing.
24
Shea picked up the dice and blew three consecutive puffs of air into the palm of her hand. They were rolling for threes and it was her standard good-luck gesture. One puff of air for each number she wanted. Shea rolled again but her method didn’t work and her lucky streak ended, so Brenda scooped the dice from the table. A huge whoop of laughter erupted from table number two. Shea craned her neck to see what the fuss was about.
Despite the fact they were missing Lorraine and Mimi, Bunco had gone on as scheduled. Kitty had almost choked on her martini olive when she’d found out Christy Pappas was subbing tonight, which wouldn’t have happened (the near-choking part) if Shea had made her secret frozen margaritas. But Shea had refused. Her rationale being that they shouldn’t repeat signature drinks two weeks in a row. So instead, they were drinking dirty martinis. The martinis were a little strong for Kitty’s taste, but by her third one, she’d loosened up.
So what if Christy Pappas was subbing? And so what if big-mouth Joey had probably told his wife that he’d seen Steve’s truck parked in front of Kitty’s house at six in the morning. It’s not like Christy was going to announce it or anything.
“So, Kitty, are you dating my cousin-in-law?” Christy yelled across the living room. Being married to big-mouth Joey must be rubbing off on her.
“Is that the guy who unclogged your toilet last week?” Frida asked.
“I saw him at Corbits buying beer,” Tina said. She eyed Kitty. “Is there something going on between you two?”
The room went quiet.
“Hey, we’re supposed to be playing here,” Brenda yelled. Rolling resumed, but no one spoke. They were all too busy looking at Kitty, especially Shea and Pilar, who were gazing at her with unholy interest.
“Going on between who?” Kitty asked. When in doubt, play dumb.
“Between you and Gus’s nephew. The plumber guy,” Frida said.
“Plumber?” Christy asked, clearly confused.
Pilar began coughing loudly.
“I thought I saw his truck in front of your house yesterday,” said Brenda. “Around dinnertime.”
“No offense, Christy, but I hear he’s been divorced three times,” Tina said. “The rumor is his wife caught him cheating on her.” Last year, Tina had suspected her own husband of cheating and had enlisted the Babes in a plan to expose him. The whole thing had turned out all right, since Tina’s husband wasn’t cheating (it was a gambling problem). He was now in counseling and went to weekly meetings of Gamblers Anonymous.
“It’s true, he’s been divorced three times,” began Christy. “His last marriage has only officially been over a few months, but I don’t think it had anything to do with him being unfaithful.” She didn’t say it with much conviction though. She shrugged. “Joey has been pretty tight-lipped about the whole thing.”
“Are you going out with him, Kitty?” Brenda asked, frowning.
“Not exactly,” Kitty said. She rolled three sixes. “Bunco!” she yelled, grabbing for the dice. According to Bunco Babe rules, anyone who picked up the dice from a Bunco roll automatically doubled their score. She laughed and pumped her fist in the air, expecting the rest of the room to cheer her on, but no one was paying attention to her roll.
“What do you mean, not exactly?” Tina asked.
Liz’s brow scrunched up. “If he’s recently divorced, then that would make you his transition person.”
“I’m not his transition person,” Kitty said. “Because I’m not going out with him.” Which wasn’t exactly a lie. She didn’t think having sex with someone twice qualified as a relationship. Not in Steve’s mind anyway.
“Good,” Tina said. “You deserve better than that.”
The Babes, and even Christy, nodded in agreement. “Don’t get me wrong,” Christy said, “Steve’s a terrific guy, he just . . . well, he has a lot of baggage.”
Shea picked up the dice and rolled two more threes, giving them a total of twenty-one. She let out a victory yell and rang the cowbell to signal the end of the game. The Babes switched tables and started rolling for fours.
“I heard a pretty cool rumor the other day,” Brenda announced, smiling mysteriously.
Yes! A change of subject. Anything was better than having the Babes talk about Steve Pappas. “What sort of rumor?” Kitty asked.
“I hear they’re going to build a P
ublix in town.”
The Babes all murmured in appreciation. Publix was Florida’s premier supermarket but the closest one was in Destin.
“Who did you hear that from?” Frida asked.
“Andy golfs with Bruce Bailey.” Andy was Brenda’s husband. “And since Bruce is on the city council, plus is vice president of the bank, I figured he should know.”
“No offense against Corbits but they don’t carry any gourmet spices and their vegetables are always wilty,” said Christy.
“Why would Publix come to Whispering Bay all of a sudden?” Tina asked.
Frida glanced at her. Kitty hadn’t gotten permission from Ted to spill the beans yet, but she’d already alluded to the condo deal twice. Once to Frida and then to Pilar’s parents. And Shea and Pilar already knew all about it. So what could it hurt to drop a heavy hint to the Babes? “I’ve been hearing rumors that a big-time developer wants to expand his business here in Whispering Bay,” said Kitty.
“What sort of business?” Brenda asked.
Kitty tried for a nonchalant shrug. “Condos.”
“I knew it!” said Frida, crossing her arms over her chest.
“You don’t sound happy,” Pilar said.
“I’m not.”
“Neither am I,” said Liz. “One of the reasons Paul and I moved here was so that we could raise our kids in a quiet community. A place where they could ride their bikes anywhere. Once the condos come, traffic is going to go crazy.”
Several of the Babes nodded.
Kitty downed the rest of her martini. “Isn’t that a little extreme? I mean it’s just a few condos.”
“Today it’s a few condos, tomorrow we’ll be another Miami Beach,” Frida grumbled.
“Well, it’s only a rumor,” Kitty said. Good God. Maybe they should have kept talking about Steve Pappas. “Let’s take a break.” She stood and stretched out her legs.
“Good idea,” Shea said. “I need another drink.” She followed Kitty into the kitchen and closed the door. “That didn’t go over so well.” She poured herself another martini.
