Crazy Little Thing (21 page)

“Why yes, Dody. I did.”

“Isn’t that simply delightful?”

I went to sit by Kyle before Anita could say anything else about her bowel issues.

“Does that woman ever shut up?” Kyle tipped his head in Anita Parker’s general vicinity.

“I don’t believe so, no. Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all. Here, have a beverage.” He adjusted the back of his chair and pulled out a bottle from his cooler. “So what’s up with you and the man from Atlantis? Looks new.”

I took the bottle. “Thanks. Um, it’s, like, pre-new. It hasn’t even started yet.”

“Oh, it’s definitely started. From where I’m sitting it looked like he got to second base.”

A girlish giggle escaped. “What is second base for a gay couple?”

Kyle smiled and shook his head. “Uh, uh, uh. No changing the subject. You tell me yours first.”

“There’s nothing to tell, really. He lives down there.” I pointed to the Pullmans’ house. “He’s here for a couple of months, like me, so I don’t know. He’s cute, don’t you think?”

Kyle tipped his sunglasses to get a better look. Des, Jasper, and a few others were tossing the football directly in front of us. “Not bad at all. So are you in love?”

I choked on the drink. “Oh God! No. That would be a disaster! What a nightmare.”

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

“What?”

“Shakespeare.”

“Hmm.” I know my Shakespeare as well as the next college graduate, but I was distracted watching the sun roll over Des’s muscles. He practically shimmered. “Anyway, it’s nothing major. Just, you know, practicing in case I ever decide to start dating again.”

“Isn’t a practice date pretty much a date?”

“Well...it’s, I don’t know. It would be terribly inconvenient to like this guy more than I already do.”

Kyle stared out over the water. “Love is a grave mental disease.”

“Shakespeare?”

Kyle shook his head. “Plato.”

I crossed my arms and studied him for a minute. “OK, your turn. What’s up with you and Fontaine?”

He met my gaze over the rim of his sunglasses. “Loving him would be terribly inconvenient for me, wouldn’t it? Since he’s my employee.”

In spite of sharing every gory detail of his dating history, Fontaine had never mentioned Kyle in a romantic way to me. I had my suspicions, but since I couldn’t be certain, I decided to keep my thoughts to myself.

The rest of my afternoon passed in a blissful haze. Things felt right with the world. I wasn’t thinking about what tomorrow would bring. I was enjoying each moment as it came and went. Just as Madam Margaret had told me to do—not that I put any stock at all in what she said.

When the sun broiled, we swam. When the water cooled us, we lolled on the sand like sea lions. I could not remember when I’d had such a lazy, selfish day. I didn’t even fold my towel when I left it behind.

Hours later, as the sun dipped into the horizon, Des plopped down on the beach blanket next to me, handing me a beer.

“These are the last two,” he said, popping off the top for me with one hand.

“Thanks.”

Kyle walked by on his way up to the house. “Hey, Sadie!” he called.

“What?”

“Plato was an idiot.”

I laughed and didn’t bother explaining that to Des. Let him wonder.

The rowdiness of the day mellowed. People were gathering up their things to leave or had already left. Soon it was just Des and me.

“You know, I was trying to tell you something before you got that volleyball in the face, and I didn’t get to finish.”

A flush started deep within me, spreading fast. He was about to ask for a second date.

He took another gulp of beer. “I know you’re only here for a little while longer, and I don’t know where my next assignment will be. So, all things considered, I think it’s probably better if you and I, you know, keep things platonic. We should just be friends. Don’t you think?”

Friends.

Friends?

Friends!

Are you frickin’ kidding me?

He had spent the entire day strutting around like a peacock, feeling me up in the water, reeling me in like a master angler, only to fling me back?
What the hell?

I’d been melting all over him for hours, and now, instead of falling into love, I was falling into white-hot despair.

Seriously. What an asshole
. I was pissed, and it showed.

He took one look at my scowling face and burst out laughing. What kind of a sadist was this guy? He was laughing at me! This was beyond unbelievable.

Then he put his arm around my waist and turned his face to my neck, whispering, “I’m totally messing with you, Sadie. I absolutely want to get you naked.”

That rendered me speechless. Utterly speechless.
Get me naked? Is that what he just said?

Well!

I should be indignant.

I should be appalled.

A good girl would slap his face. A nice girl would get up and walk away. But I guess I wasn’t good or nice because I started laughing too. And why not? Our courtship dance had been clumsy and haphazard from the start, so why should I expect anything different?

“That was mean,” I finally responded, a catch of breathlessness still in my voice.

He hugged me tighter. “I’m sorry. But, wow, you should have seen your face.”

“Yeah, yeah, OK.” I brushed my head against his shoulder. “You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

His laughter quieted as he answered simply, “No.”

I didn’t see how that was possible. But I didn’t argue, because I could see in his eyes that he was finally going to kiss me.

My very first kiss was with a boy who tasted like bubble gum and smelled of fresh cut grass, a tangy, sweet combination I’ve never quite forgotten. No kiss since then had ever tasted or smelled or felt quite so good, until this one. It was flawless. Tentative, searching, then blossoming with the perfect intensity. It was better than I had imagined it could be, and I had imagined it pretty thoroughly. Des’s arm pressed against my middle as I leaned into his sideways embrace. The kiss ended too soon, and I sighed like Juliet on the balcony longing for her Romeo.

I skipped up the steps, nearly tripping over Fontaine and Kyle, who were crouched on the deck.

“Well? How was it?” Fontaine was grinning from sideburn to well-coiffed sideburn.

“Were you spying on me, you jerks?”

“Of course.”

“It was like watching
National Geographic
,” Kyle added. “Like observing monkeys choose their mate.”

I stepped around them. “Nice, you guys. And for the record, there was no mating. All he did was kiss me.”

“And? Was it wet and sloppy?” Fontaine rubbed his hands together.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “No.”

“Dry and tight?” Kyle asked.

“No, Papa Bears. It was just right.” I walked inside and headed toward the stairs. “And now I’m going to his house for dinner.”

I heard the smack of their high five echoing behind me.

I hurried to shower and get ready. If I gave myself time to think, I’d get too nervous. But even rushing around, it was no use. Someone should invent full body antiperspirant for just such emergencies. Even the backs of my knees were sweating.

I put on a sundress and stood staring at my underwear drawer. I wasn’t ready for the big deed with Des, of that I was certain. I pulled out a pair of maternity panties that I kept for especially fat days. Nothing would repel a single man quite like tattered beige underwear large enough to shelter a family of six. But I set them aside. Even if he never saw them, he’d sense them.

I wasn’t about to go the other route and wear a thong, either. The only reason I even had one was because Richard bought it. I stuffed that back in the drawer, finally settling on some pretty pastel lace that I’d gotten when shopping for my date dress. This pair was neither too obvious nor too demure.

At last I found myself back on the Pullmans’ steps, almost as anxious and worked up as I had been the very first time I rang that bell.

Des opened the door, his hair still wet from the shower. He had a navy-blue towel draped around his neck and wore jeans but no shirt. It rattled me and I didn’t know why. I’d seen him shirtless a dozen times, including most of today. But something about the combination of pants with no shirt seemed naughty and risqué. I bit my lip.

“Hey, come on in. I’m almost ready.”

I noticed the table still in the spot where I had moved it. Bitchy the cat walked by and yawned. If it was possible for cats to roll their eyes, I’m sure she would’ve done it.

“I went to the store, that’s why I’m running late. Just make yourself at home.” He went back into the bedroom. I was nervous, so nervous I didn’t want to say anything in case I had helium voice. I swallowed and tried to remember what Dody had told me about deep, cleansing breaths.

“You OK?” he asked when he came out from his room only to find me standing in the exact same spot. “You want a drink?”

I nodded.

“No sake tonight. OK?” He waved his hand over the room. “This is a crying-free zone right here.”

He was funny. I started to breathe, finally. This was going to be just fine.

He opened a bottle of wine and handed me a glass.

I raised mine up. “To
National Geographic
.” Damn it, Fontaine.

Des’s smile was curious, but he toasted anyway. “If you say so.”

He put me in charge of chopping vegetables. I considered cutting my finger so he’d have to hold my hand to examine it, but that seemed a little drastic. Maybe I could be captivating without resorting to self-mutilation. He put on some music and we hummed along while he cooked. I should’ve guessed he could cook. I wasn’t too bad at it myself, but Paige and Jordan had very unimaginative palates, so my repertoire of dishes had been reduced to anything with noodles and butter.

“I think there’s a steamer in the pantry, Sadie. Would you mind looking?” he asked.

“Sure.” I walked into the tiny room off the kitchen, which doubled as a laundry room. Two of Des’s lab coats hung on a drying rack. I ran my hand down one sleeve, unable to resist. Then I spotted the steamer on the top shelf. I tapped a foot against a lower shelf, considering the wisdom of using it as a step.

“See it?” he called from the kitchen.

My voice was strained as I reached. I could barely touch the edge. “Yes, but it’s a little too high.”

Des came in behind me, reaching over my head. He leaned forward, and his fabulous man parts came into full, delicious contact with my girly backside. I gasped in both surprise and delight, like a spinster librarian discovering pornography in the resource section.

I pressed back, a wanton spirit suddenly controlling my actions. Des’s body went still, even as he exhaled slowly, his breath warm against my temple. For a moment we were frozen in place, yet exploding internally. Then his arms came down to wrap around me. He nuzzled my neck for the briefest second before placing a heated kiss in the hollow below my ear.

I ran into Dody’s cottage and scrambled up the steps to the safe haven of my bedroom. I slammed the door and slumped against it. With trembling fingers I grabbed my phone off the dresser and dialed Penny’s number.

She picked up on the third ring. “Hey.”

“I am doomed.” I collapsed onto the bed and curled into a ball.

“What happened now?” She was blasé, underestimating the shock of what I was about to reveal.

“Getting drunk and crying at the restaurant? Child’s play! I have officially humiliated myself beyond repair.”

“How?”

There was a hippo of regret loitering on my chest. “I was at Des’s for dinner, because it turns out the blonde chick from last night was a recruiter, right? So I’m over at his house and we’re cooking and being all flirty and stuff. And then one thing leads to another, and the next thing I know, my panties are on the floor and I’m getting felt up in the laundry room.”

“The laundry room? Is that a euphemism?”

“No, dumb-ass. I mean an actual laundry room.”

“Why were you in the laundry room?”

God, how could she be so dense! “It’s next to the kitchen, Penny. And that’s not the important part. We went into the laundry room to get the vegetable steamer. But I reached for it, and he reached for it at the same time, and when his junk bumped up against me I turned into some crazed nymphomaniac porn star!”