Heels of Steel

by Barbara Kavovit

  He still felt her thighs on top of his, the skirt of her little sundress hiked up as she straddled him, her fingers tangled up in his hair, as he spanned her waist with his hands. God, she was fun and fearless and sexy as all hell.

  He picked up his phone and dialed. “Hey. Where are you? What are you doing?”

  Chapter 46

  “In bed. Scarlett’s guesthouse,” said Bridget, smiling at the sound of his voice, “thinking about how sore I’m going to be tomorrow.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Jay purred. “Did I do that?”

  She snorted. “No, helping Scarlett’s party planner inspect one hundred and fifty different centerpieces and then playing tennis against Scarlett for two hours after did that. God, that old woman is in good shape.”

  He laughed. “You want to sneak out and meet me somewhere? I think the teens are distracted.”

  She yawned and stretched. “What have you got in mind? Because right now, I kind of just want to sink into these fifteen hundred–count sheets and call it a night.”

  “Fifteen hundred? Seriously? I’ve never heard of that,” he said.

  “Um. I’m staying on Scarlett Hawkins’s estate, remember? You probably haven’t heard of half the stuff she uses on a daily basis.”

  “A walk on the beach,” he said. “It’s warm out. And there’s a big, fat moon.”

  “Romantic,” she admitted.

  “I’ll bring a bottle of champagne,” he wheedled.

  “Tempting,” she said.

  “How about some chocolate walnut cookies from Levain? I think I can snag a couple from the teens.”

  “And sold,” she said. “Where were you thinking this carb fest was going to happen, exactly?”

  “I have a private beach behind my house. Should I come and pick you up?”

  She shook her head. “Naw. Too hard to get onto the estate this time of night. And Scarlett gave me the keys to her Fiat, anyway. Text me your address, and then just give me a chance to put my clothes back on and I’ll be over in a bit. I’ll text you when I get there so we can avoid the teen hordes.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, there is absolutely no need to put your clothes back on.”

  “Well, I think Scarlett’s night watchman might have a heart attack if he saw me in what I’m currently wearing.”

  He laughed. “Okay. Let’s not kill anyone. See you soon.”

  She lay in the bed for a moment after she hung up the phone, smiling to herself. She knew she was being foolish; she knew she shouldn’t get attached; but when was the last time she’d received a late-night call inviting her for a romantic, moonlit stroll on the beach?

  Actually, never, she admitted to herself.

  She rolled out of bed and slipped on a pair of Chloé leggings, a formfitting light pink James Perse T-shirt and long, royal blue Burberry hoodie. She went into the marble-encased bathroom adjacent to her bedroom, where she brushed her teeth and pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail. A little mascara, a smear of lip balm, and she was ready to go.

  At the door, she pocketed her keys, slipped on a pair of flip-flops and checked her phone for the address. Her eyes bugged a little when she realized where she was headed. She knew the estate from afar. It was not quite as grand as Scarlett’s, but then again, whose was? But it was pretty dang close.

  The little Fiat Spider convertible was parked out front of the house and Bridget thrilled to the feeling of getting behind the wheel of a car again. She’d always loved driving. She still missed the Porsche 911 convertible Carrera she’d given up after her divorce.

  She stopped at the gatehouse on the way out. “I’ll be back late tonight, Ed,” she called to the guard as he nodded and pressed the button to open the fifteen-foot iron gate.

  As she hit the road, Bridget pushed a toggle and the convertible top slowly rolled back, allowing the warm night air to rush in and the moonlit sky to open up above her. Bridget felt her ponytail whipping behind her as she drove. Maybe she was taking the roads a little faster than she should, but she couldn’t help her lead foot, the car was so zippy and fun.

  Jay’s house had a long driveway lined with towering lilac hedges on either side, and then an elaborate metal gate with an intercom. Before Bridget could call in, the gate buzzed and opened. He must have been waiting for me, she thought. She blew a kiss to the camera on top of the fence as she drove into the circular driveway and pulled up in front of the house.

  It was shingle style, a perfect Queen Anne with four stories, a giant wraparound porch, multiple balconies, ocean views from every room and two matching turrets on either end of the house. Bridget ran an expert eye across it and judged it to be about twenty thousand square feet, and worth a solid fifty million in today’s real estate market. She put the top back up, quickly checked her hair in the mirror and then hopped out, waiting for Jay to meet her out front. The air smelled salty and sharp and she could hear the hiss of the tide dragging in and out somewhere very nearby.

  “Psst!”

  She looked around for the source of the sound.

  “Psssst! Bridget! Up here!”

  She looked up to see Jay hanging over a small balcony fronted with a window box packed full of red begonias.

  She waved.

  “Meet me around the back!” he said and then ducked back into the room he’d come out of.

  She shook her phone and turned on the flashlight app so she could pick her way through the densely planted garden beds, through a side gate and around to the back porch.

  Jay was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. Bare feet, rolled-up jeans, a fitted black T-shirt, his hair a little mussed. He looked ridiculously handsome as he gave her a wide, warm, goofy smile.

  For a moment Bridget flashed on to the stolen budget still sitting in her inbox and felt a wave of guilt, but she pushed it down when he kissed her hello and then turned her out toward the view.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  Low hedges of hydrangeas flanking a narrow path down to the water did nothing to block the wide-open vista of an endless ocean dressed in moonlight. The sky was huge and the moon so bright that the stars were barely visible. The moon doubled itself, reflected in the sea, as the tide softly hushed in and out.

  “Amazing,” whispered Bridget.

  Jay put his arm around her. “I know. I’ve seen this my whole life and it still blows me away. My mother used to call it proof of God.”

  Bridget nodded. “I love that. Exactly right.”

  He grasped her hand in his and tugged her forward. “Come on, before the kids get the idea to come out, too.”

  She shook off her flip-flops and they walked down to the beach together, hand in hand. Bridget marveled at the soft white sand glittering in the moonlight, the empty, wild beach without any signs of a human presence besides the two of them. “This is all yours?” she said.

  He nodded. “It’s been in the family for three generations. We spent almost every summer here. My parents kept an open house. I could invite any of my friends, and my parents’ friends and my cousins and aunts and uncles would come out and stay for weeks on end. The house was big enough for them to just pile in and everyone was still comfortable. We’d light bonfires and bring a huge table right down to the water’s edge for big, elaborate family dinners. We’d eat and eat and then after, the kids would run around chasing the tide, playing in the water, while the adults sat back and drank wine and laughed and talked.” He smiled, his eyes on the horizon. “It was perfect.”

  Bridget felt a deep pang of regret. “That’s exactly what I wanted for my house out here,” she said.

  He looked at her. “You have a house?”

  She felt her face twist into a bitter smile. “I used to. Not anymore. Had to sell it after my divorce.” She shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll ever forgive Kevin for that. It was my house. I designed it an
d then built it with my dad before I ever even met Kevin, but of course, he demanded half of everything, and I couldn’t afford to buy the bastard out...” She drew her toe through the wet sand, watching the little trench she made refill with water and then disappear. “It was supposed to be for Dylan. I wanted him to have exactly what you just described. Summers here, parties and sweet memories and someday he could bring his own kids and relive it all through their eyes.” Her voice shook. “Now some country record producer and his D-list actress wife own it. No kids. I hear they come out maybe for a week a year. Otherwise, it just sits empty.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry. That’s a lot to lose.”

  She nodded. “My dad passed away, my business fell apart, my marriage ended...” She laughed. “I don’t know how I survived, honestly. It’s amazing that I’m still standing.”

  “You’re strong,” he said simply. “I mean, all I had to deal with was a divorce and I barely made it out of bed for about six months. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d been hit as hard as you. I’d probably be living in a box somewhere, ranting about the end of the world.”

  She felt tears spring to her eyes. “It pretty much felt like the end of the world,” she said softly. Then quickly wiped her eyes and shook her head. “Sorry, sorry. Damn, I haven’t gotten choked up about all this for years.” She sank to the ground, sitting in the soft sand and drawing her knees up to her chest. “It’s being here. I guess it’s harder than I thought it would be.”

  He sat down beside her, shoulder to shoulder. “Here,” he said, popping the bottle of champagne he’d been carrying. It made a little hiss as a thin plume of blue mist curled out. “I didn’t bring any glasses. Have a swig.”

  She brought the cold bottle to her lips and took a long draw of the dry, bubbly wine and then passed it back to him. He tipped it and gulped.

  “And here,” he said, fishing a fat cookie out of the little paper bag he’d been holding. “I had to fight eight hungry teenagers for this. It better be worth it.”

  She smiled and took a big bite, then offered half to him. “Definitely worth it.”

  He laughed and put his arm around her. She took another swig of champagne, then scooted even closer and laid her head on his shoulder.

  They sat like that for a long time, eating the sweet dessert, passing the bottle back and forth until it was empty, watching the moon on the water, listening to the hiss of the sea.

  “This is nice,” she finally whispered.

  He nodded. “It’s the nicest time I’ve had in years, truly.”

  “Me, too.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “You want to sneak up to my room and fool around? I’d say let’s do it here, but I’m sure that you and I both know that sex on the beach is never as good as you think it’s going to be.”

  She laughed. “Sand all up in everything.”

  “We’d be picking it out of our crevices for weeks.”

  “Okay,” she said, jumping up. “Let’s sneak in!” She started toward the house at a little trot.

  * * *

  “Shhh,” Bridget whispered as they tiptoed through the darkened house. She bumped into the corner of a sofa. Or at least, she thought it was a sofa. “Ow! Damn! That hurt!” She rubbed her leg. “I think I’m a little tipsy,” she admitted.

  “Oh, you think?” he said. Jay put his arm around her shoulders and steered her away from the offending furniture.

  She giggled. “Aren’t you?”

  He smiled. “Maybe a tiny bit buzzed. Nothing to worry about. Listen, before we go upstairs, do you mind if I go down and check on the kids? I’m sure they’ve got to be asleep by now, but I’d feel like an ass if I didn’t at least look in on them.”

  She nodded. “Sure. Go ahead.” She felt around for the sofa again and then sank down into its cushions. “I’ll be right here.”

  He kissed her once—and then again, slower this time. “Don’t move,” he whispered.

  “I won’t move,” she solemnly promised as he backed out through a wide doorway and into a hall.

  She squinted, trying to make out the room around her. It was huge. It looked like a formal living room—a parlor, actually. She could see the dull gleam from a slate mantel around a fireplace she could practically stand up in. A little desk and chair over there, a grouping of love seats and what looked like ottomans and poufs over here. Long, heavy drapes at the massive windows that overlooked the ocean view...

  Suddenly, she heard a shout, then a short, unhappy scream, then the sounds of multiple voices all yelling at once.

  “What the hell?” She bolted up, following the sounds out the door, through a huge farmhouse kitchen and down the stairs to what she assumed was the basement entertainment room.

  There she found Jay looming over a crowd of freaked-out-looking teen girls, all dressed in skimpy and skimpier versions of nightclothes, and one teen boy in the unmistakable posture of an adolescent caught in the act, standing awkwardly, his cheeks red and his hands crossed over the crotch of his kilt, undoubtedly covering up an unwieldy boner.

  “You said I could trust you!” Jay seemed to be venting his fury on one particular teen. Bridget recognized the dark-haired, pretty girl from the picture he’d shown her in the restaurant that first day they met.

  “This is none of your business, Dad!” the girl screamed back. “I don’t know what you think you saw, but oh, my God, we were hardly even doing anything!”

  “Are you kidding?” he yelped. “He—” he pointed a finger at the boy “—was making out with her!” He changed direction and jabbed his finger at a short, pretty, dark-haired girl who was wearing an ultra-short satin jumper.

  Well, at least it wasn’t Alli, thought Bridget.

  “And you—” he turned back to his daughter “—were kissing her!”

  A slender girl with crooked glasses, like they had rather hastily been put back on, cringed as he looked at her.

  “Oh, wow,” said Bridget out loud. “Did not see that one coming.” And everyone turned and stared at her. “Oops.”

  “Wait, who is that?” Alli had a look of horror on her face.

  “Oh. That’s...” said Jay, suddenly at a loss for words. “That’s...”

  Bridget stepped forward and stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Bridget. And you must be Alli. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  Alli stared at her hand for a moment, and then, eyes bulging, turned back to her father. “Are you frigging kidding me?” she screamed. “You are such a hypocrite!”

  “Hey!” he yelped. “You do not talk to me that way!”

  Alli rolled her eyes so hard that Bridget wondered if they’d get stuck in that position. “Dad,” she said. Her voice had gone soft and seething. “Dad, listen. We are going to sleep now. So why don’t you and whoever—” she threw a look of loathing at Bridget “—that is go upstairs and carry on doing whatever it was you were going to do, okay?”

  “Actually,” said Jay, and mirroring his daughter, his voice also dropped to a dangerous whisper, “you, you, you and you—” he pointed at his daughter and the other three offenders “—are going to bed in your own separate rooms. In fact—” he looked down at the other three girls, who were sitting cross-legged in a pile of blankets on the floor and observing the whole spectacle like it was the latest binge-watch on Netflix “—I think you can all sleep in separate bedrooms. Luckily, there are plenty in this house. Get your stuff and let’s go.”

  He looked at Bridget for a moment as the kids grabbed their bags and blankets. “I’m really sorry about this,” he said under his breath. “This is killing me that you’re seeing me like this.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “Hey, I’m a parent, too, remember? By all means, carry on. You’re doing great.”

  He gave her a weak smile in return and then turned back to the teens. “Okay, everyone, you all
got your stuff? Let’s go. Upstairs, everybody.”

  “I’ll be right back,” he said to her as he marched the kids up the stairs.

  Bridget cheerfully waved at him but then quickly dropped her hand as Alli turned around to give her one last poisonous glare. Sorry, she wanted to say as the girl’s dark eyes drilled into her own. Sorry to have been witness to your humiliation. Sorry to have met this way.

  Not exactly a great start with the boyfriend’s kid.

  Boyfriend, huh? rang a voice in her head. When did that happen?

  Suddenly, she was bone-deep tired. She made her way over to one of the massive leather couches and lay back and closed her eyes...

  “You okay?” said a deep voice. She startled.

  “Oh, God, shit. I’m sorry,” she said. “I must have dozed off for a moment.”

  Jay scrubbed his hand through his hair as he sank down beside her. “Well, that was fun,” he said.

  She blew a little puff of air out of her nose. “That’s one way of seeing it.”

  “God damn, god damn,” he said. “I really screwed the pooch on this one, didn’t I?”

  She looked at him, his face twisted in regret. “How so?”

  “Well, um, I’m pretty sure my kid was just forced out of the closet to me, and my reaction was pretty terrible.”

  She blinked. “Oh, wait. You didn’t know she’s gay?”

  “I had no idea.” He groaned. “Some father I am. I mean, how could I have not known? Who misses something like that?”

  “And are you okay with her being—”

  “Of course I am,” he said. “Whatever makes her happy. I just feel like an ass for not knowing.”

  She shook her head. “It might not have anything to do with you, really. Maybe she just wasn’t ready to tell you yet.”

  “I bet her mother knows. Jesus, Liam probably frigging knows, too.”

  “Liam?”

  “My best friend. The guy my wife left me for.”

  “Oh.” She blinked. “Oh. You hadn’t mentioned that part.”