by Dawn, Penny
"Anything else you know your way around?"
"I plow in the winter, too, if you're in need.” He grazed his fingers against her bare skin. “You're skin is so smooth, so—” He lost eye contact; they both looked to his hand.
"Oh!” She gasped, pulling at her open robe. “I'm sorry, I—"
"Aw, don't do that,” he whispered.
"I didn't mean for—"
"Let me look at you. Please."
And remarkably, her hands stilled, one falling atop his. She licked her lips. “You were gone, so I thought—"
"Hmm.” He raked his gaze over her lacey bra, down to her delicate panties, all the while sweeping his hand in a small circle against her pelvis. “You're so pretty."
"Thank you."
"God, you have no idea. You don't know you're beautiful.” His gaze simmered, locking on her emerald eyes. “Where's your daughter?"
"Ballet class."
"Where's your bedroom?"
Her lower lip seceded from its upper counterpart.
"Which window, I mean. Is it in the turret?"
"How did you know that?"
"I want you in that window at three in the morning."
She nodded. “All right."
And if he isn't home, give me the nod, and I'll come up. Luke rose from his position before he gathered the nerve to voice his thoughts. “I should go."
"Wait. What do I owe you?"
"A glass of water."
"No, really."
"Really.” He licked his lips. “A glass of water.” He unfastened and removed his tool belt and looked to his truck, where he knew he ought to be heading.
"Come on in.” She rolled from the hammock and tightened the sash around her waist.
Who could resist an invitation coming from this woman?
"Gorgeous place,” he said, following her into her home. He deposited his tool belt on the floor and sat on an upholstered settee. The springs creaked.
She waltzed into the kitchen and selected a glass from a custom cabinet. “You know that's really just for show. It can't be too comfortable."
"What, this?” Luke shifted on the tiny sofa. “It's fine.” But it was far from it. Still, the view of the kitchen—and the woman moving like music through it—was worth the discomfort.
"I sit there sometimes,” she said. “But it isn't even comfortable for me.” She placed a glass of water, along with a bowl of fresh, green grapes, onto a serving tray and headed toward the monstrous great room, hitching her chin in invitation. “Come on."
He followed her into the sunken living space, easily a third the size of his entire home, and, with its cathedral ceiling, it seemed even larger. When she bent to position the tray onto an oversized, cushioned ottoman, he caught a glimpse of her curvaceous rear, cheeks peeking out from lace-trimmed panties. Someday, he'd get her from behind.
She eased onto the sofa, feet tucked under her. Although he estimated seating for twelve in the gigantic room, he chose to sit immediately to her right. Dangerously close.
"So, how are you?” He popped a grape into his mouth.
Her lips parted and closed without a word, as if in debate about what to admit. She glanced away. “I'm fine."
"How's Brennan?"
"According to my best friend, he's better than he's ever been, but considering your work order today, all evidence is to the contrary."
"And you're fine with that."
Her beautifully manicured hands tugged at the hemline of her robe. “Not really."
"So, how are you?"
"How's Diane?"
"I think I touched you more today than I've touched her in months. Is this Allie?” He reached across her, his forearm grazing against her bosom, and retrieved a framed portrait from an end table. “She's a pretty little girl, like her mama."
"Thank you, but I think she looks like Brennan."
He licked his suddenly dry lips and stared at her. “I don't cheat on my wife—"
"Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?” She took the frame from his hands and put it back on the table.
"—but I want to see you, with nothing on, lying in bed, waiting for me."
"Why don't you admit what you really want? You don't have to sugar coat the situation. Hinging upon the conversations we've shared, you don't have to be polite. You don't want to make love to me, you don't want to lay me down in rose petals. You don't care that I'm pregnant, and you wouldn't care if I happened to be a virgin. You want to fuck me, plain and simple."
"Fine, I want to fuck you. Is that what you want to hear? Did it ever occur to you that I might not be sugar coating the situation for your benefit, but that I do want to lay you down in rose petals?"
"Lust is in no way particular about its object."
"I don't think you're an object."
"Well, I certainly doubt you think I'm an angel with the answers to your daily prayers in the palm of my hand."
"Is it so hard to believe you're wonderful?"
"This conversation is moot. Say I did leave my husband. You're hardly in any position to take his place, and you don't want to."
"We can get custody of my kids. You said—"
"You don't know me, Luke. And you don't want to know me. Not like that anyway."
He cocked his head, staring at her belly, and tucked a finger under the sash of her robe. He yanked it open and smoothed his hand over her midsection. “When do you go to listen for the baby's heartbeat?"
"A few weeks."
"Can I go with you?"
"Why?"
"I want to. Hearing the heartbeat for the first time is something every woman should share with a certain, special someone, and I dare say your husband won't be there with you.” He pulled her close, feeling her breath on his cheek. Beneath the robe, his hands trailed to her back. “You have the softest skin, beautiful girl."
"This is wrong,” she whispered.
"But it feels good.” He closed his eyes, concentrating on the feel of her breasts against his chest, her cheek brushing against his, her lips feathering a kiss at his ear. He breathed deeply, swallowing the scent of her hair. Floral, not fruity. Expensive. Hard on the pocketbook, easy on the senses. “Kimberley."
"Yes."
"I have to go.” He began to withdraw.
"You don't have to go.” But she didn't pull him back for more.
"Yeah, I do. Julie's got my dog, and I should probably—"
"Your sister?"
"And I want to go see my boy.” With one last caress on her thigh, he rose from the sofa and exited, taking his tool belt with him.
On the way out of town, he spotted a pink-and-yellow banner in the dance studio window, advertising a spring ballet recital. While Allison Roderick practiced in that studio for the big event, he'd nearly made love to her mother.
God, he'd come close. He wouldn't be able to stop himself next time. But as much as he wanted her, he couldn't risk losing his children. Perhaps next time should be out of the question.
* * * *
"Hey, Caleb.” Luke entered the kitchen, Derby at his heels.
Caleb didn't take his eyes from his video game in the next room. “Hey, Dad."
Diane stood at the stove, stirring macaroni and cheese.
"Hi, Diane."
"How was counseling?” she asked, refusing to turn around.
"Fine."
"Dr. Schaeffer called. You didn't show."
"You caught me. I didn't go."
"So where were you?"
"Not that you care, but I went to a jobsite.” He meandered to the sink and closed his eyes for a few moments, savoring the memory of Kimberley's body in his arms. He pretended to scratch his nose, inhaling the scent of her from his fingers one last time before washing it off.
"Rachael, lunch!” Diane called. “Caleb, come on."
"I've got three guys left, Mom."
"Come on, Caleb,” Luke said. “Put it on pause."
Diane shot daggers in his direction, as if the discipl
ine of their son was not his business.
"What's for lunch?” Luke asked.
"I didn't know you'd be home, so I didn't plan anything for you. Make yourself a sandwich."
"You want one?” He opened the refrigerator.
"No."
He peered into the recently stocked meat drawer. One thing about Diane: she knew how to keep a house and how to feed her family. He assembled two large sandwiches, and they gathered at the table, the kids eating cinnamon rolls and macaroni and cheese, Diane sipping a cup of coffee.
"Rachael,” Luke said, “would you like to go to a show in a few weeks?"
"Can I come?” Caleb asked.
"If you want. But I thought Rachael might want to go."
"Is Mommy coming?” Rachael asked.
Diane shook her head. “I don't think so."
His girl shrugged. “What kind of show is it?"
"It's little girls your age, dancing."
"Can Mommy take me?"
"I want to take you."
"We'll see, all right, Luke?” Diane said.
CHAPTER 9
"It looks great.” Brennan studied the third stall door. He popped an aspirin and washed it down with beer. “Who did it?"
"Jackson's. The guy gave me his card.” Nervousness fluttered through Kimberley's stomach with the pretense Luke was just a random repairman.
"Did he say when he was going to stain it?"
"Um, Thursday. I think.” Two days ago, actually, but he hadn't shown up and he wasn't at the gym this morning. “I'll call him Monday."
"How much did he charge?"
A glass of water. “A few hundred."
"I'm thinking of renovating the bar,” Brennan said.
"Why?"
He shrugged and popped another aspirin. “I had a bit of luck this week."
"Do I want to know?"
"You should.” He grinned. “Fifteen grand in the black."
"Fifteen grand?"
"I took a detour to Atlantic City, and—"
"What if we'd lost it?"
"Well, I didn't, did I?” He nodded toward the garage. “Does this guy do interior work?"
"I can think of twenty other ways I'd like to spend the money than to renovate a room barely old enough to have acquired a layer of dust."
"I didn't ask you."
"I'd like to get the boat out of the fourth stall and into a marina. I'd like to finish the bonus room. A ballet studio for Allison would be very charming, and don't forget, we have a nursery to furnish."
"When you earn the money, you can allot it as you wish."
"How am I supposed to earn, when you won't let me out of here?"
"Oh, don't be dramatic, Kimmy."
"I want to teach in the fall."
"I thought we decided against that."
"No, you decided against it."
"No, Kimmy, we agreed when we got married. When children came—and they're here now—you raise them. I didn't want kids so some au pair could tuck them in at night."
"It would be two days a week. Lauren said she'd take Allie—"
"The welfare of my children is not up for discussion. They'll be best taken care of by you. At home."
"Do you love me?"
Brennan shook his head. “That's a ridiculous question."
"I'm not happy, Brennan."
Laughter hissed through his teeth. “You're spoiled beyond reason. I'm not listening to this.” He turned away. “Rick and Lauren are dropping by this afternoon. His sister's in town, and she offered to sit with the kids while we barbeque."
"I mean it, Bren."
"So I thought we'd whip up some filet, maybe some salmon or lobster. Have a few cocktails, wager on some horseshoes—"
"I'm not happy, Brennan!"
He was silent, but only for a second. “You're free to leave."
She followed him into the screened porch.
"Go ahead, Kimmy. If you've got it so rough, go."
"I don't want to go.” She grasped his hand. “I want this to work."
He stared at their entwined hands for a moment. Slowly, his gaze traveled to hers.
"I love you, Brennan. But I can't compete with your addictions. You can't get enough of anything—except me."
"That's a crock."
"Is it? You don't even look at me unless you're fucking me."
"I'm looking at you now."
"Working long hours, gambling, drinking. The uneven monetary balance between us, the lack of respect and purpose ... it has to change. It has to stop."
His hand twitched in an involuntary movement he referred to as the shakes, a side effect of over-consumption. “I've never gambled more than I can afford to lose."
"I know, but—"
"I used to drink everyday."
"I know."
"And now, it's mostly weekends."
"I can't do this every weekend, Brennan, especially when weekends are all we have."
"It's the long hours and the days on the road keeping us in this house."
"I'd rather have you, Bren. I don't need—"
"Well, I do need it. You knew this about me when you married me. And it's my money. I'll lose it if I want to, but the thrill's in the winning, and I win plenty. Look around you. You don't want for anything here."
"I want you. Why don't you sit down?"
"Don't treat me like a guest in my own home."
"But that's what you are. You're a guest with whom I share my bed two nights a week. You aren't with me, even when you're here."
"I've accepted things about you, like the vacuuming of your uterus—"
"You can't make me feel worse than I already do about that."
"—so it's your turn to accept me. Accept that I'm trying, but this won't go away overnight."
"You use that as an excuse. Trying is different than making progress, Brennan, and you haven't made any in years."
"And your constant bitch, bitch, bitching about it isn't making anything easier."
"That's not fair."
"Do you think it's fair I have to live up to the standard of some ridiculously dense jock who didn't know enough to wrap his dick before he stuck it in?"
She searched his eyes for warmth, compassion, but found only authoritarian power. “I'm done.” She stormed into the house, flung her purse over her shoulder, and reached for the rag-top keys.
She rushed up the stairs, lifted her napping daughter and Pink from the bed, and rushed out to the garage.
She drove northbound on Route 294, with the top down, Allison giggling with the wind in her hair in the tiny backseat. “Where are we going, Mommy?"
"Lake Villa, baby."
"What's Lake Villa?"
"It used to be home.” But her connection to the tiny town of lake homes and summer resorts had died the moment Jason left her. She hadn't been back since. Not to visit her sisters, not to drive past the home in which she'd grown up. Less than an hour away, but she'd never found the time ... or the courage.
She exited on Route 132, driving westward off the tollway. Thick traffic through Gurnee and Lindenhurst confirmed what she'd suspected: the area had grown. Lake Villa was no longer the sleepy town she'd left behind. New subdivisions, renovations of the old lake communities, new businesses...
She drove down Oakwood Lane, stopping before a brick tri-level. A simple home, she'd once deemed it more than enough. She hadn't always lived as extravagantly as she did now. Would she ever be able to live simply again? She stared at the driveway, where Maura had killed her dog.
"Who lives here?” Allison asked.
"I don't know who lives here now, but this is where I lived when I was a little girl."
"When you were my age?"
"Yes. And you have two aunts who lived here with me."
"Auntie Lauren lived with you?"
"No, Allie. I have two sisters, Maura and Kathleen, and they're your aunts."