Real Women Don't Wear Size 2 (34 page)

Have mercy. Her nipples hardened. She had expected to hate it, even though she wanted to give him everything, to do
that
for Ethan because he’d done so much for her, she hadn’t expected to become so enthralled in tasting him, or in feeling his blatant manhood within her mouth. But she had. In fact, she’d paid tribute to every mesmerizing inch. Licked him like he was a Tootsie Pop and she wanted to determine exactly how many licks it took to get to the center. It’d been wonderful, and she’d wanted to do it again, to feel
him
come apart at
her
mouth’s command.

Evidently, she’d taken that memory through to the straw, because as she sucked the thing again, she got air bubbles. No way. It was gone? How fast had she drunk the thing, anyway? And did she feel light-headed? She didn’t think she felt light-headed, but what if she was drunk and too far gone to know it? This could not be good. After tossing her DOA last Friday, she’d promised herself to stay clear of the deadly daiquiris for the remainder of her life. But she hadn’t gotten a DOA this time. This one was peach, which meant it was safer, right? It’d merely make her relaxed, which was what she wanted, but her head was definitely feeling light.

“Want to dance?” a deep, throaty voice whispered against her left ear. She turned to see a tall, blue-eyed man with one of the sexiest smiles she’d ever seen. Blue eyes. Sexy smile. Her skin tingled from the close proximity of the blue-eyed stranger. But he
was
a stranger, and moreover, he wasn’t Ethan. The guy’s eyes inadvertently slipped down to view her breasts, prominently displayed within the green stretchy fabric.

Clarise frowned. Like Ethan had declared, they were taken, as was her heart. Her lip quivered, eyes watered. “I—can’t.” She looked up at him. No crystal blue eyes now. They were smoldering gray, the exact color of a cloud filled to its capacity with heavy rain. Or a tornado.

“Fine,” he growled, then turned and left.

“What happened?” Jesilyn asked, wedging her way through the crowd to stand beside Clarise. “I saw the hottie come over. Did he ask you to dance?”

Clarise nodded.

“Is it that bad? You can’t even dance with anyone else?”

“No, I can’t,” Clarise said miserably. “Jesi, I want to go home.”

“Sure thing. Let me make sure Miles is good to take Rachel home since I’m the chosen one.”

Clarise nodded, then watched Jesilyn, tonight’s chosen one, or designated driver, inform Rachel that they were leaving.

“You gonna be okay?” Rachel asked, abandoning Miles momentarily to check on her friend.

“Yeah,” Clarise said. “And don’t get me wrong. This was a very nice idea, but I’m not in the mood for going out right now.”

“Okay. Call me tomorrow, though,” Rachel instructed, before returning to Miles.

“I will.”

Ethan turned off ESPN’s coverage of the upcoming Super Bowl. Normally, he’d have been interested in the teams, the stats, the superlative event of the year for the male population, but his attention wasn’t on football. How could he think about the game without remembering the way Clarise had come undone during their phenomenal night of bleacher sex? He swallowed thickly, closed his eyes, and could nearly hear her scream of release.

Damn. He’d had enough of this waiting. He wanted to see her, and he was going to make it happen tonight. He picked up the phone and started to dial her number, but since he’d called twice already and hadn’t gotten more than her answering machine, he hung up. Regrouping, he dialed his office. As he predicted, his brother was working late, obviously taking no chances at losing the wager with their dad.

“Eubanks,” Jeff said.

“Did you hear from Clarise?”

“Not since this morning, when she quit. I guess you’re still not up to giving me details on how you lost our best employee during your corporate bonding session?”

“I’m going to get her back,” Ethan said, listening to the clicking of computer keys as Jeff apparently continued working as he spoke. Good thing one brother could keep his mind on the family business. Ethan couldn’t begin to think of the store now, not until he cleared up this mess with Clarise.

“You’re going to get her back?” Jeff questioned. “Are we talking professionally, or personally?”

“Both.”

His brother’s low chuckle echoed through the line. “Hell, Ethan, what do you do on these trips to make women hate you so much? You supposedly find the real deal with Clarise, and then she quits. And you know I haven’t forgotten last year, and that hot little redhead who tried to claw my eyes out before she realized you had a twin.”

“I really don’t need you bringing her up again. Not now,” Ethan said.

The computer keys stopped clicking. “Is this about her? Red?”

“You could say that.”

“Damn, Ethan. You took her down there too? Is that it? No wonder Clarise was pissed.”

“No, I didn’t take anyone else to Tampa. I was with Clarise—only Clarise. But somehow, she learned about what happened last year before I could tell her, and she left.”

“You’re telling me Clarise left you over a woman you were with a year ago, when you and Clarise were nothing more than friends?” He made a grunt sound into the phone. “Doesn’t sound like the Clarise I met. Talk about a jealous bone. Honestly, Ethan, is that really the kind of woman you think you want for life?”

Ethan leaned back in his recliner, closed his eyes and told Jeff the truth. “Clarise had every right to get pissed. ‘Red’ is her sister, Babette.”

It didn’t take Jeff long to process that little bombshell. “No. Way. Hell, Ethan, you were with sisters?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I’ll say it is. Did you really think Clarise wouldn’t find out?”

“I thought I had a little more time before I told her. Unfortunately, someone else beat me to the punch. I left yesterday morning to get our breakfast and came back to find her gone. Evidently someone told her in the interim even though I was certain no one else knew.”

“Did her sister—Babette, was it?—tell her?”

“I don’t think so, but who knows? Maybe. If she did, she obviously didn’t tell her everything.”

“What do you mean?” Jeff asked, computer keys now silent. “What else is there to tell?”

“Plenty. But like I said, it’s complicated.”

“I won’t argue with you there. You’ve got complications to the max with this one,” Jeff agreed, then had the nerve to laugh into the phone.

“If you’re trying to piss me off, it’s working,” Ethan warned.

“Well, you’ve got to admit, this is one for the record books.”

“If I could talk to Clarise, I could explain this mess, but she won’t answer the phone,” Ethan said, hating his situation. He’d fallen head over heels, and Clarise didn’t even want to talk to him.

“Have you tried just showing up at her apartment?” Jeff asked.

“Twice. It’s a gated community, and she refused to buzz me in.”

Once again, Jeff’s laughter surged forward, and once again, Ethan wanted to get his hands around his brother’s throat. “I mean it, Jeff. You’re pushing it.”

After his chuckles subsided, Jeff relented. “Okay, okay. I get it. You’re having a rough time, but I might be able to help you out after all. Miles Watkins was in the employee lounge earlier and said he was going out to meet Rachel tonight. Said the girls were going to try to cheer Clarise up and asked him to come along.”

Ethan sat forward in his chair. “Did he say where they were going?”

“Struts.”

“And you didn’t feel the need to call and tell me?” Ethan growled, as he stormed across the room and grabbed his keys.

“I didn’t think—”

That was as far as Jeff got before Ethan hung up and headed out the door.

Within a half hour after leaving the bar, Jesilyn pulled into a parking space outside Clarise’s apartment. “Want me to come in for a while?” she asked.

“No, I’m fine. I’m going to sleep, anyway.”

“Looks like you’ve got company,” Jesi said, nodding toward the shadow peeking out the window.

“Granny Gert. She was worried about me. Good thing I came home early, since she won’t go over to her place until she knows I’m safe.”

“She’s a sweetie,” Jesilyn said.

“Yeah, she is.”

“So, you’re definitely not coming back to the store? I mean, it’s such a great job, and you’re amazing in the Women’s Department.”

“I can’t work with him.”

“He didn’t come in today,” Jesilyn said, her voice barely a whisper. “I kept expecting you to ask, but I thought I’d tell you.”

Clarise had wondered whether Rachel or Jesi had seen him since they’d returned from Tampa. She had wanted to ask, several times, throughout the night, but she hadn’t wanted to seem as though she cared. Even though she did.

“Looks like Jeff will keep running things through this weekend, then Ethan will come back,” Jesilyn continued. “By the way, I’m going to miss seeing you every day.”

“We can still go out at night,” Clarise reminded.

“Yeah, we can. You call me if you need me, okay?”

“I will.” Clarise climbed from the car and slowly made her way to the apartment. If she wasn’t drunk, she was definitely tipsy, because the sidewalk seemed to tilt with every step. Finally, she put her key in the door and entered.

“I’ve got to go, Madge,” Granny said, her hand clasping Clarise’s phone. “She’s home.” Granny patted Clarise’s cheek and motioned toward the couch, while she closed the front door and wrapped up her conversation. “Yes, I’ll call you tomorrow. Good night.” She clicked off the phone, then sat beside her granddaughter. “You okay?”

Clarise had heard the same two words repeatedly throughout the night. Every other time, she lied. Now, she didn’t. “No.”

“Was he there? At the bar?”

“No.”

“But you kept thinking about him?” Granny asked, her hip pressing against Clarise’s side as she wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Yeah, I did. I should have stayed home.”

Granny nodded. “I was afraid of that. Give it time, dear. You’ve had your heart busted, and a heart takes a bit of time to heal, definitely longer than a day. It’s too soon, even for going out with your friends. Why don’t you take a nice hot bath, then get a good night’s rest? Shoot, sleep as long as you want. You don’t have anywhere to go tomorrow morning, do you?”

Clarise nearly moaned. No, she didn’t have anywhere to go, because she didn’t have a job, but she wouldn’t worry about that tonight. Tonight she wanted to follow Granny’s advice to the letter. A nice hot bath and a whole lot of sleep. Hopefully, the daiquiris she drank would help that sleep come quickly and deeply. Maybe the alcohol would even keep her dreams from pressing their way through, and she wouldn’t spend tonight like she’d spent last night, dreaming of making love to Ethan. If she were lucky, she wouldn’t dream at all. She took her bath, climbed into bed . . . and knew that she wouldn’t be that lucky.

“Have mercy, Babette, what have you done?” Aunt Madge’s penciled brows shot up so high they completely disappeared behind her platinum bangs.

Babette smiled smugly as she strutted toward the awaiting car. She pointed toward the open trunk and instructed the porter to put her bags inside. Then she turned to face her aunt and her mother, both of them as slack-jawed as she’d expected. “You like it?” she asked.

“No,” Aunt Madge said. “Make that hell no.”

“Mom?” Babette questioned, shaking her head to let the new black bob fall into place. The hair was sleek and sexy, like Catherine Zeta-Jones’s “do” in
Ocean’s Twelve.
Babette loved the look; moreover, she loved the change.

“It’s—nice,” Janie Robinson said. She stepped forward and hugged Babette. Then she sighed. “Does this mean you have some news? Maybe that you decided which job to take?” She sounded so hopeful that Babette almost hated bursting her bubble.

“Yeah, I have news,” Babette said, making sure to let her excitement pulse through each syllable. She’d known her mother would equate her new hair with a new life. That’d always been Babette’s signal of something major on the horizon. She’d left middle school a blonde, entered high school a brunette. Her first year of college, she bleached it out stark white, save one stripe of hot pink in front of her left ear. Since then, she’d been auburn, chestnut, platinum, red, even a funky shade of purple for a short time. Matter of fact, she’d had nearly every color imaginable—except black. But wasn’t black the color for artists? And photographers?

Her hand clenched the strap of the camera bag, while her heart thumped a happy excited rhythm. She’d gotten some amazing shots on the trip, particularly of the men and women taking part in the cruise parties. In fact, she thought she’d made a definite decision regarding the area in which she wanted to specialize—fashion photography.

“Well, we’re waiting,” Aunt Madge said, interrupting Babette’s thoughts. “I’m guessing your news is that somebody died on the boat, hence the black.” Her brows went MIA again, but Babette wasn’t going to let Aunt Madge’s cynicism ruin her plans, as if anyone could stop her from doing what she wanted. Ever.

“I’ve decided I’m not ready for a full-time job yet,” Babette said, while her mother forced a wary smile and a nod. “I’m going back to school.”

“You owe me fifty bucks,” Madge said, showing Janie her palm.

“Hush, Madge,” Janie instructed then turned back to Babette. She visibly took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and cleared her throat. “Going back to school?” she finally managed, and amazingly, still maintained her forced smile.

Babette didn’t waver. “To study photography.”

“Well, for the love of Pete.” Madge tossed her hands in the air.

“Madge,” Janie warned.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. She’s finding her way and all that crap, but all the schooling in the world ain’t gonna put food on the table if she doesn’t work.”

Janie frowned at Madge.

“Give me the keys,” Madge instructed. “I may have to listen to Blackie here and her new plan of attack on life, but I sure as hell won’t do it while standing out here baking.” She waited for Janie to fish the keys from her purse and grabbed them. “What I wouldn’t give to have a real winter in Florida every now and then,” she grumbled, climbing in the car.