by Maria Geraci
What had she been thinking to throw it away?
Thank God Shea had saved it from the trash.
Kitty was on her third rum and Coke (Diet Coke, that is) when the doorbell rang. She glanced at the clock above the mantel. It was after eleven. It had to be Shea and Pilar on their way home from Bunco. Thank God. She needed them now more than ever. She would explain the whole horrible mess and between the three of them, they’d find a way to fix this.
But it wasn’t Shea or Pilar.
It was Steve.
She blew the bangs out of her eyes and tightened the sash to her bathrobe. “What are you doing here?”
“I was driving by and saw your light on.”
“I’ve heard that line before.”
“Can I come in?”
“No.” She hiccupped.
He searched her face. “You’re drunk.”
“How can you tell?”
“Because you told me the first night we met you cry when you’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk,” she said, holding up the tumbler of rum and Coke. “I’m only slightly tipsy.”
She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror above the foyer table. Her hair looked like a bird’s nest, sticking out in all directions, and there were tear tracks down her cheeks mingled with smeared mascara. She bent over and scrubbed her face with the hem of her bathrobe. “There. That’s better.”
He picked up the bathrobe sash and dipped the end into her drink then cradled the back of her head in his hand while he wiped at the smudges with the wet sash. Kitty had to admit, it felt sort of good.
“Why are you crying?”
She ignored his question and closed her eyes. “That feels nice. All cool and tingly on my face. I’ve changed my mind. Come on in.”
“How much have you had to drink?”
“Just some sake and a few rum and Cokes.”
He took the tumbler from her hand and swallowed some of the drink. “There’s no Coke in here.”
“Sure there is. At least, there was when I mixed it.”
He grinned, then his gaze shot to the fireplace and his expression sombered. “Why does it smell like smoke in here?”
“Don’t ask.”
“Did you make a fire in July?”
“I burned my business cards.”
“A little drastic, don’t you think?”
She shrugged.
Steve placed his hand at the small of her back and propelled her to the sofa. “Sit.”
Kitty flopped down and propped her feet on the coffee table. She stared at her bare toes. She never did get that pedicure.
“When did you eat last?” Steve yelled from the kitchen.
“Do you like my feet?”
He stuck his head in the doorway. “What?”
“Do you like my feet?” she repeated, lifting a foot to wiggle her toes in the air. “I think I have great feet.”
“Yeah, I love your feet. When was the last time you ate something?”
“I had half a California roll four hours ago.”
“That’s it?” She could hear him rustling around in the kitchen, opening the refrigerator, rummaging through cabinets.
“I would have eaten more, but I had to go ruin a few hundred people’s lives. Well, actually, I’d already done that, sort of by accident, but I had to make sure.” When he didn’t say anything, she sighed and stared at the television screen. It was the part in Bull Durham where Susan Sarandon was tied to the bed while Kevin Costner painted her toenails. That’s weird. The last time Steve had come over the movie had been at the same exact scene. She flopped her head back on the sofa. “I’ve always wanted a man to paint my toes. Will you paint my toes?”
“Maybe.” He walked back into the living room with a large glass of ice water and something wrapped in a paper towel. “First, eat this.”
It was a peanut butter sandwich on semi-stale wheat bread. No jelly. “Yuck, I don’t want this.”
“Then you should keep more food in the house. This is all I could find besides some Lean Cuisines and an empty carton of Rocky Road ice cream.”
He forgot to mention her hidden Snickers bars, except she suddenly remembered she’d eaten them all after their fight the other night. She grudgingly took a small bite of the sandwich. “Why are you here again?”
“To tell you I’m sorry. I was out of line. And that I’m glad you are going to be able to buy this house.”
“No. You were right. About everything. I’m just as bad as TNT.” She shook her head. “Worse, even. TNT might not have a soul, but I sold mine for two thousand square feet two blocks from the beach.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. This house has a lot of sentimental value for you.”
“How can my mother even think of tearing it down?” She took a swig of the ice water to wash down the bite of sandwich.
“Kit, there’s nothing wrong with going after what you want.”
Steve didn’t know the worst of it. He didn’t know about the senior center. “It’s not that simple.”
“What’s wrong, baby? You look miserable.”
That did it.
She’d never liked being called baby before. But there was something about the way Steve said it that made her want to crawl into his arms. She didn’t know if it was because of the crappy day she’d had, or the fact that he was being so nice—or maybe it was the sake and rum mixture—but suddenly it all became too much. She started crying again. Not little sniffly delicate tears, but great big slobbery ones. The kind that made her nose run and her eyes get red and puffy.
He sat on the couch and put his arm around her. “That bad?”
“I screwed up. Big . . . time,” she said between sobs. “Thanks to me, the senior center is going to be destroyed and everyone in town is going to hate me.” She buried her face in his shirt to dry her tears. “God, you smell good.”
He tensed. “Maybe I should leave.”
She pulled away. “And now you’re freaked out because you think I’m throwing myself at you.”
He choked back a laugh. “I think you’re confusing freaked out and turned on.” He shook his head. “I just don’t want to take advantage of you during a weak moment.”
She thought about it a minute. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”
“I’m always turned on by slightly tipsy beautiful women who throw themselves at me.”
She studied the expression on his face. His eyes had that smoky look in them again. “I told you, I’m not throwing myself at you . . . You think I’m beautiful?” Before he could answer, she went on, “Can I ask you a question? Did you cheat on your wife?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Where did you hear that?”
Normally, she would have hemmed and hawed, but liquor always made her more direct. Before she could stop herself, she blurted, “We talked about it. At Bunco.”
“Your Bunco group talked about me?”
“Just a little. But don’t worry,” she rushed, “I pretended I barely knew you. And Christy defended you. Sort of.”
“Great.”
She snuggled her way back into the crook of his shoulder. “You don’t have to answer. About cheating on your ex. I already know. I don’t think it’s in your nature.” She took another whiff of his cologne. “God, you smell really good. Did I tell you that already?”
“What’s not in my nature?”
“Cheating. You’re one of those honest guys who always tells the truth. No matter how ugly.” She frowned. “Well, except for the lie you told Nathan about his mom swiping the money from his bank account. But you’ve always been honest with me. I mean, you made it pretty clear when we slept together that it was only going to be for the one time. And that you hadn’t planned to ever call me again. And last night, you were right about everything. I’m just as greedy as TNT. Which leads me to my second question. Was last night a date?”
“You really have to ask?”
“Okay, so last night was a
date.” Listen to your gut, Kit. “And tonight’s a booty call.”
His shook his head slowly. “No, it’s not.”
She frowned. Her instincts hadn’t counted on that.
“I’m not that lucky,” he explained quietly.
The air whooshed from her lungs. “Maybe . . . you could be,” she said, suddenly feeling shy. Which was ridiculous. His mouth and hands were intimately acquainted with every square inch of her. And vice versa. They’d had stand-up shower sex, for God’s sake, not to mention in a chair on the back patio of a house that didn’t belong to either of them.
He slipped his arm down her back and pulled her beneath him, landing them both horizontal onto her narrow sofa. “What are you doing?” she laughed, grateful for his playful turnaround.
He untied the knot on her bathrobe sash. “Checking out the panty situation.”
“Sorry, it’s plain white cotton. Hanes Her Way.”
He slipped them off in one smooth move and tossed them on the floor. “Not anymore.” His tone turned serious. “Let’s go to Hawaii.”
She giggled. “Is that some sort of kinky sex game?”
“No, but if you’re interested, I’m sure I can come up with one.” He slid down the sofa and began nibbling at her belly. “If you don’t like Hawaii, we can go somewhere else. Name a spot. As long as it’s warm and I can fish. How long will it take you to get ready? Two days? Two hours?”
She lifted herself onto her elbows and stared down at the top of his head. “I . . . I can’t go to Hawaii in two days. Or even in two weeks. I have a business to run and houses to sell. And I have to figure out a way to fix the mess I made with the senior center.”
The senior center. For a few glorious minutes, she’d forgotten all about it. “Do you think I’m a terrible person?”
He let out a long sigh. “You really want to know what I think?”
“I asked, didn’t I?”
He came back up to cradle her head in his hands and leaned down close so that his face was just a few inches from hers. “I think you care too much what other people think. But it’s one of the reasons I like you so damn much.” He bent down and covered her mouth. His kiss was sweet and gentle, and Kitty suddenly felt like crying again.
But not because she was slightly tipsy.
“Can I tell you something?” she whispered.
He placed his mouth on her neck.
“That night at the beach, remember when I told you I saw stars when you kissed me?”
Steve nodded, trailing his lips to nuzzle the soft skin above her clavicle.
“It couldn’t have been because of the fireworks.”
His gaze shot up to meet her eyes.
“Because I’m seeing them again, and I know I haven’t had that much to drink and—”
“Shut up.” He slid his body down hers and dipped his mouth between her legs.
It was no use. She couldn’t think. Not when he was doing that to her.
She leaned her head back and whatever she was about to say died on her lips and dissolved into a long, slow laugh.
Surprisingly, she didn’t wake up with a headache. But she did wake up with something heavy draped across her waist. It was Steve’s arm. She untangled herself and scooted to the edge of the bed.
How was she going to tell Viola that she was the Realtor in the condo deal? The deal responsible for tearing down her beloved senior center? There had to be a way out of this mess. There just had to be.
Maybe she could convince Ted not to build on the land the center was located on. The center couldn’t take up more than an acre. What was one measly acre in the grand scheme of things? And the gesture would generate goodwill among the population in town that was already against the condos. She could even offer to give up her commission.
But giving up her commission would be mean giving up the house.
Maybe if she explained the situation to her mother . . . She couldn’t afford a down payment, but Moose was the king of creative financing. And now that Becky was gone, Kitty didn’t need the office. She’d economize by working out of the house. The office rent and utilities alone would save her at least a thousand dollars a month. Her heart began to thump. It was going to be all right. She could feel it.
She’d call Ted ASAP and get the ball rolling.
First, she’d wake up Steve and get him out of here.
She went to tap his shoulder, then stopped herself. She couldn’t bring herself to wake him up. Not just yet. Instead, she took a minute to savor the view.
He was lying on his side, the bottom half of his body covered by the Pottery Barn sheet with the little red sailboats. His chin and lower cheeks were covered in dark stubble. The morning light crept through the blinds, exposing the silver strands along his temples. Why did gray always look better on men than it did on women?
There was no doubt about it, she liked waking up with Steve in her bed. She liked the way his feet stuck out from the bottom of the sheet and the way his arm curled over her pillow. She liked that he talked all through sex and how his voice got husk ier as he got more excited. She liked the way he smelled, the way he tasted. And she especially liked the low growly sound he made in the back of his throat when he climaxed. She was even beginning to like his moodiness. He didn’t pretend to feel something he didn’t. He was a man who knew exactly what he wanted. And last night, he said he wanted to take her to Hawaii.
“You’re a million miles away.” His voice sounded rough and scratchy. “What are you thinking?”
She cleared her throat. “I was wondering how you stood on the whole Yankees/Mets thing.”
He smiled like he didn’t believe her. “Neither. I’m a Braves fan.”
“Oh.”
He rolled onto his back and scratched his belly. “You want to know what I’m thinking?”
She lowered her gaze over the part of him still covered by the sheet. “Let me guess.”
“Come here and you won’t have to guess.”
The doorbell rang.
“Don’t answer that.” He threw off the sheet.
“Impressive,” she said, waggling her brows up and down. “But I really should get the door.”
“Ignore it. They’ll go away.” He pulled her back onto the bed and positioned her beneath him, pressing his erection against her thigh. “Stop wiggling.”
“I thought you liked it when I wiggled.”
He wrapped his mouth around her nipple.
“I can’t go to Hawaii with you,” she blurted.
He stopped what he was doing with his tongue and looked up at her. “Can’t? Or won’t?”
“I already told you, I have business to take care of. Besides, could you even afford it?”
“I can afford it.” He turned his attention back to her breast.
The way this was going, if she didn’t speak up, she’d find herself on a plane to Honolulu before the day was over. “Say I do go to Hawaii with you. What happens after that?”
“Why do we have to worry about that now?”
She was saved from responding by a persistent rapping on the front door.
“They’re not going away until I get that.” She searched the floor for her bathrobe and slipped it on.
Steve made an impatient sound. “Hurry back.”
Kitty ran to the door and threw it open.
A middle-aged woman with chin-length blonde hair stood at her door. She had on bright red lipstick and wore dark sunglasses. Kitty must still be sleeping. Caught in the middle of one of those hideous dreams where something really great is happening, and then the whole thing twists into a nightmare.
She closed her eyes and opened them again.
Dana Hanahan Burke Lewis Cartwright was still there.
“What took you so long to answer? Are you all right?” her mother asked, walking into the house. She dragged a large black Samsonite on wheels behind her. “My car has been acting up lately so I had to rent a sedan. The air-conditioning isn’t working properly. Either
that or I’m having hot flashes again even though, thank God, that part of my life was over a few years ago, so I think it must be the air-conditioning.”
She stopped talking long enough to pull off the sunglasses and kiss Kitty on the cheek. “Did I wake you up? I suppose it is early, but you know how I like to get on the highway before the traffic gets bad. And I assumed you’d be up already. What’s that red truck doing in the driveway?”
“I . . . Mom, what are you doing here?”
“Visiting you, of course.”
Kitty glanced out the front window. A blue Ford Escort was parked behind Steve’s truck. “Where’s Larry?”
Her mother’s eyes clouded over, then she sniffed and raised her chin a notch. “I’ve left the son of a bitch.”
33
“Mom, you aren’t serious.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I came here for some sun and relaxation.”
“But you hate Whispering Bay!”
“Nonsense. It’s my home. I was raised here.” She sat on the sofa and patted the space next to her. “Sit down and tell me what’s going on with the offer for the house and with you and . . . oh, you never told me what that red truck is doing out there.”
“The truck belongs to me,” Steve said. He was dressed, but his hair was rumpled and he still had that “just woke up and waiting to get laid” look in his eyes. He might as well have come out not wearing anything at all.
“You remember Gus Pappas, don’t you, Mom?”
“Of course I remember Gus. But if this is Gus, then I want to know where he found the Fountain of Youth.” Her mother batted her eyelashes.
Kitty rolled her eyes. “This is his nephew, Steve. He was fixing my clogged toilet.” She turned and gave Steve a pleading look. “Thank you so much for making an early morning house call.”
Steve ignored the pleading look. “You must be Kitty’s mother.”
Her mother did the eyelash batting thing again. “I didn’t know Gus had a nephew living in town.”
“He doesn’t live in Whispering Bay,” Kitty said quickly. “He’s just passing through.”
“I’ve been in Tampa for the past ten years, but actually, I’ve been thinking of moving to the area,” Steve said smoothly.
