Harlequin Desire June 2020 - Box Set 2 of 2

by Karen Booth

  I went into my room to get dressed. I didn’t invite her to come with me, but I wanted to. If this kept up, I was going to need a cold shower. Damn Alice, anyway.

  I returned wearing the outfit she’d designed, down to the boots and jacket. I left the shirttails loose, as she’d suggested. Her eyes lit up when she saw me.

  “Oh, my God,” she said. “That’s so badass. Now let me see it without the jacket.”

  I ditched it and tossed it aside.

  “We could do it both ways. You look rebellious, but handsomely refined, too.”

  Like the reformed bad boy that I was supposed to be? She admired me from every angle. I wanted to tell her to knock it off.

  She handed me the black shirt. “Try this.”

  Instead of going back to my room, I changed where I was, and she watched as I bared my chest. She even bit down on her bottom lip. A nervous habit of hers. Well, it served her right, torturing me the way she was.

  While I buttoned the black shirt, she came forward to help. “You missed some,” she said.

  She finished closing the rest of the buttons, and I inhaled her soft, floral scent. It wasn’t the same fragrance that she used to wear, but it was just as enticing. I wanted her so badly, I imagined kissing her right here and now.

  As she stepped back, her breath rushed out. “I like it, but the white was better, I think.”

  “Should I try the red now?” I was doing my best to concentrate on anything except sweeping her into my arms.

  She nodded, and I switched shirts. This time she didn’t help me button it. She seemed to recognize her mistake.

  “That’s definitely a possibility,” she said, wringing her hands and twisting her fingers together.

  Was she doing that to stop herself from touching me? My body was on fire, the embers burning hot and slow.

  After a moment of heart-thundering silence, she said, “I think we should consider using a tie to create some contradiction.”

  “Torn jeans and a tie.” I tried to sound as if I was mulling it over it. But mostly I was just battling the heat.

  “I’ll bring a selection with me next time. Or I’ll go through yours and see if any of them will work. Your hair should be a little more tousled, too.”

  I tunneled my hands through it, pushing it away from my face. “Like this?”

  “Yes, just like that.” She breathed heavily again. “Also, will you roll up your shirtsleeves so part of your tattoo is visible?”

  I followed her instructions. “Is this good?”

  “It’s perfect.” She just stared at me.

  I stared back at her, too, awkward as could be.

  Then she said, “It’s such a big tattoo. You must have put a lot of time and thought into getting that.”

  I broke eye contact and responded, “It was my gift to myself after I got sober.” Getting inked was part of my growth, of my reawakening, of trying to create a new identity. But now it just felt like another facet of my uncertainty, of struggling to know who I was inside. Being around Alice wasn’t helping those feelings, either, not with how hungry I was for her. “I wanted something that seemed primal, that connected me to my heritage.”

  “You used to say it didn’t matter. You wouldn’t even tell me what tribe you were from.”

  “That’s because I don’t know what my tribal affiliation is. My mom met my dad in Arizona when she was on a road trip with some friends. I don’t know if that’s where he was from or if he was just passing through, too.”

  Alice leaned against the side of the sofa. “Was it a one-night stand?”

  “That’s what I gathered, yeah. I was pretty young when she first told me about him, so I pieced most of it together later. His name was Edward. No last name. I guess they never got around to sharing specifics. If she’d known that she was going to get pregnant by him, then maybe she would’ve taken notes.”

  “I wish you would have told me all of this before. You were always such a mystery.”

  I shrugged. Sometimes I still was, even to myself. My sobriety hadn’t changed that. But at least I had my work to express myself. “Creative people are supposed to be mysterious.”

  She picked up the toy she’d gotten for Pete and glanced at it. “Did I ever tell you that my dad was a trucker?”

  “No, but Kirby did. He also said that your dad’s name was Joel.”

  She scowled. “Well, that figures, doesn’t it? Kirby yapping to you about my personal business.”

  “He didn’t say all that much. Just your dad’s name and profession.” I wasn’t about to admit that I’d accused Kirby of being her father. I wasn’t in the mood to get my head chewed off. I’d already caught enough hell from him.

  Her frown waned, making me relax a little. But I was still sort of jittery, too, always trapped in the middle with her.

  She expelled a sigh. “Here’s a tidbit that Kirby might not know about me, unless Mary told him. My parents named me Alice because my dad’s favorite band was Alice in Chains. He wasn’t into country, not like Mama. He preferred glam and grunge and rock.”

  Alice in Chains. Alice in Spencerland. Now I wasn’t sure which nickname fit her better. I thought they both sounded disturbingly sexy.

  She placed the squeaky truck back on the table. “I’ve never met my dad’s family. He was originally from a small town in Washington. His parents are gone, but his brothers and sisters are still there. Just this year, I started reaching out to them on social media. It’s been nice having an online rapport with them.”

  Immersed in what felt like an emotional moment, I said, “Someday I might try to find my dad.”

  “Really?” Her gaze locked onto mine. “How would you go about doing something like that?”

  “I could submit my DNA on the ancestry sites that help you search for biological family members.”

  “I think that’s a great idea.”

  “You do?”

  “Absolutely.” She stepped closer to me. “You have a right to know who your dad is.”

  “Yeah, but I probably won’t get any hits, anyway. How likely is it that my father or someone from his family would’ve submitted their DNA? And even if by some miracle I do locate him, he might not want anything to do with me.” I’d already been cast aside by my aunt and uncle. I didn’t want to pin my hopes on a stranger, too. “When I was a kid, I spent a lot of time imagining what he would be like, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to live up to my expectations.”

  “I have expectations about who my future husband is supposed to be. And I’m not going to give up on finding him.”

  “We could both end up being disillusioned.”

  “I hope not.” She moved away from me.

  “Yeah, me, too.” I kept opening myself up to her, sharing my insecurities, saying things I never intended to say. “Are we done? Can I change out of this shirt now?”

  “Certainly.”

  “I left my T-shirt in the bedroom. You can come along, if you want to. To give Cookie and Candy their toys,” I clarified. I wasn’t inviting her for any other reason.

  “Are they hiding under the bed again?”

  “Yes. But I think they’ll come out to snag their toys and sneak another peek at you.”

  Alice joined me in my bedroom. I removed the red shirt and yanked my T-shirt back over my head.

  “Should I put the toys on the floor?” she asked.

  “Sure, just set them down.”

  She placed them near her feet. The bait worked. The dogs came creeping out. They looked at me to get my approval. I nodded and said, “Have at it, girls.”

  They each grabbed a toy and started chewing the rubber. The squeaking noise was deafening.

  Alice laughed in sheer delight, and I smiled, too.

  “They’re so cute,” she said, bouncing on her heels. “Did they pi
ck the right ones?”

  “No. But they’ll swap at some point.”

  “I can barely tell them apart. They look like twins.”

  “Cookie’s ear is a little tweaked from her injury, and Candy is a little fluffier.”

  She studied the dogs. “Oh, yes, I see that now. My niece and nephew are twins, but it’s easy to tell them apart.”

  I stated the obvious. “Because of their gender differences?”

  She laughed again. “Yes, but their personalities are different, too. My nephew is wonderfully behaved.”

  “And your niece is a hellion?” I lifted my eyebrows. “Like her auntie?”

  “Who me?” She made an innocent expression, putting her hands beneath her chin and batting her lashes. “I had nothing to do with it.”

  “Yeah, I can see how sweet you are.” Little vixen that she was. “The twins are cute kids. I’ve never met them, but Kirby shows me pictures of them all the time. He’s an adoring grandpa.”

  “It’s nice that you think the twins are cute. But I’d rather that you left Kirby out of it.” She grabbed the shirt I discarded. “I know he dotes on the kids. I hear about it from Mary all the time. I don’t need you singing his praises, too.”

  “At least Kirby is a real person. It’s better than you talking about a fictional husband you might never even meet,” I snapped.

  She glared at me. “That’s a low blow.”

  Okay, so she was right. It wasn’t fair for me to squelch her dreams. But her attitude annoyed me. “You can’t get mad every time I say something decent about Kirby.”

  She huffed out a breath. There was no reasoning with her when it came to Kirby. We could argue about this until we were blue in the face, and never get anywhere.

  I tried to make nice by asking, “Do you have your wedding all planned out? You know, the details women sometimes think about?”

  She jerked her head. “No.”

  I didn’t believe her. I inched forward, showing as much interest as I could. “Not even a little?”

  “Maybe,” she conceded.

  “Come on. Tell me what parts you’ve thought about.”

  She hesitated, as if she didn’t quite trust me with the information. But she gave in and said, “I want a black diamond for my engagement ring.”

  “Really?” I was surprised by her choice. It seemed a little gloomy to me. “Why?”

  “I like how unconventional they are. Besides, black diamonds represent strength and power.”

  Now that I had time to reconsider her jewelry preference, I was intrigued by it. “That is kind of cool.”

  She fussed with the shirt in her hand. “I haven’t picked out the type of dress I want. I don’t want to go overboard when I don’t even have a groom yet.”

  “You’ve got plenty of time for that.” I glanced at the dogs and realized that they’d stopped squeaking their toys. Did they sense that Alice and I were discussing something important to her? Something that was totally foreign to me?

  I knew nothing about weddings. Or phantom husbands. Or wannabe wives. I couldn’t fathom spending eternity with someone. I was just trying to get through each day.

  “How many more fittings do you think we’re going to have?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “It depends on my next shopping excursion.” She seemed to be studying me now. “Would you rather I make fewer trips over here?”

  “No, it’s fine. You can come by however often you need to. But maybe we could do one of the fittings at your place.”

  She gave me a weird look. “Why do you want to do that?”

  “Because you never asked me to come over before, and that always made me feel a little slighted. But you can make up for it now.” I chanced a half-cocked grin, using what little charm I had left. “You can cook me dinner or something.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Are you seriously trying to beg a home-cooked meal off of me?”

  “I seem to recall you telling me that you liked to cook.”

  “I do,” she said, making me wonder if she just might do it.

  I never really knew with Alice. She was a hard nut to crack. This woman from my past, invading my mind and disorganizing my life. I was suffering just by being in her company. But that didn’t stop me from wanting to spend more time with her—in whatever troubling ways I could.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Alice

  I invited Spencer to my home for the final fitting. For the past few weeks, I’d been going to his house and working out the wardrobe with him. But now, at the very end, he was coming to me. He wanted to see my place, so I caved in. I was cooking dinner for him, too.

  To keep the evening from seeming romantic, I asked him to bring the dogs. By now, Candy and Cookie had become accustomed to me, so I figured they would be comfortable here. Spencer was also bringing Pete, per my request. The more company, the better.

  Much to my dismay, I thought about Spencer day and night. I touched myself in the shower and imagined his hands on me. I rolled around in bed and fantasized that he was deep inside me. I did all of the breathless things that women did when they were consumed with a man.

  I shook away those feelings and focused on the Mexican-style coleslaw on the counter in front of me. I made it look festive, with red and green cabbage, fresh corn directly from the cob, black beans and diced peppers. For the main course, a tamale casserole was bubbling in the oven. A pan of Spanish rice simmered on the stove, too.

  Spencer was due any minute. I’d changed my clothes twice already, finally settling on a lace-trimmed camisole, a lightweight printed shrug, skinny white jeans and pink cowboy boots.

  When the doorbell rang, my heart leaped to my throat, and I rushed to answer it. All three dogs were on leashes. Candy and Cookie took ladylike steps into my condo. The bulldog was his usual self, engine revved and ready to go.

  Spencer held a bouquet of pink carnations in his other hand. He smiled at me. “These are from Pete.”

  “Thank you. They’re lovely.” I took the flowers. The dog was already slobbering at my feet.

  “I guess we chose the right color,” Spencer said.

  I assumed he meant the carnations and how they matched my boots. “Yes, you did.” It was cute how he’d said “we” as if the dog had actually had been involved. But it was weird, too, because it was the first time Spencer had given me flowers. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

  “You look pretty, Alice.”

  “You look great, too.” He was as handsome as ever, in a slim black T-shirt, fitted jeans and black roper boots, scuffed at the toes. “I’ll put these in water.”

  He let the dogs off their leashes, and man and animals followed me into the kitchen.

  “Dinner will be ready soon.” I filled a vase and arranged the flowers. I petted the dogs and put a water bowl on the floor for them. “I thought we could eat on the patio since the weather is so nice tonight.”

  “It smells wonderful.” Spencer stood near the stove. He lifted the lid on the rice. “It looks good, too.” He glanced up at me. “Remember when I used to live on frozen pizza?”

  Now I had visions of his old apartment and eating those pizzas in bed with him. “Yes, I remember.” Every memory that pertained to him involved sex, or post sex, or something I would be smart to forget. I wished he hadn’t brought it up. But what else were we supposed to reminiscence about?

  “I still keep my favorite brand around for when I need a junk food fix.”

  I agonized over the deliberate way he was looking at me. “The messy kind with the cheese-stuffed crust?”

  “Yeah.” He broke eye contact. “I cook a little now.” He checked out the slaw I’d left on the counter. “Not like this, though.”

  I redirected the conversation. “Do you want to see the rest of my place?” My condo consisted of an ultramodern livi
ng room, a cozy den, two spacious bedrooms and two full baths.

  He nodded, and I gave him a tour, with the dogs following along, their little paws tapping on the hardwood floors.

  Spencer seemed intrigued by my bedroom. He glanced around, taking it all in. I’d decorated in jewel tones, with lots of shiny knickknacks. The bed was crisply made, showing no signs of my restless nights. I’d made sure of it.

  “As you can see, I set up your wardrobe in here.” The clothes I’d purchased for him hung on a rolling rack, and his shoes and accessories were stacked in clear plastic boxes. “I figured you can use my bathroom to change.”

  “Whatever works.” He glanced around again. “I expected your room to be messier.”

  “You thought I’d be a slob?”

  “No, just that things would be scattered about.”

  I pulled a guilty face. “Actually, I cleaned up today since you were coming over. Normally I am on the messier side.”

  “Then I had you pegged right.”

  “Yes, I guess you did.” I sometimes left my bras and panties on the floor, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. “Did you bring the rest of your stuff for the fitting?” I asked. “Your jeans, boots and jacket that we’ll be using?” He was responsible for providing those items.

  “They’re in my truck. I’ll get them later, after dinner.”

  “Then let’s eat.” By now, I knew the food would be ready.

  We returned to the kitchen, and I removed the casserole from the oven. I filled our plates, and he helped me carry them outside, along with a pitcher of sweet tea.

  We sat at a glass-topped table. My patio offered brick pavers, a built-in barbecue and a fire ring, set amid leafy plants and a fragrant herb garden. The dogs made themselves at home, lolling on the pavement and enjoying the chew sticks Spencer had brought for them.

  “You have a nice yard,” he said.

  “Thank you. I rented this condo when I first got my share of the money from Mama’s songs.”