Bad For Each Other

by Kate Hathaway

  She stood still, chewing on her lip, avoiding his eyes.

  "I don't intend to walk away from this marriage, Molly. Do you have plans along those lines you're not telling me?"

  Her eyes, wide with surprise, flew to his. "No," she whispered.

  He seemed to relax a little, stretching his arms against the piano and arching his back like a panther preening in sunlight. "I like to hear you play that highbrow stuff, honey. Humor me."

  She still appeared unconvinced. He tried another approach. "I've been with women who wanted me for what I could buy them. I know the difference."

  That got a rise. "I don't want to hear about your other women," she snapped, pruning up like she'd sucked a lemon.

  He gave a bewildered laugh and shook his head. "There weren't as many as you think." He shrugged disarmingly. "This may come as a total surprise to you, but not every woman in the world finds me irresistible."

  She threw him a disbelieving glance and he laughed again, with genuine amusement this time. "I don't know how you can manage to flatter and insult me with the same look, but you just did."

  He watched her close the keyboard cover, run her hand over the piano a final time and turn her back to it. She wouldn't bend one iota. He'd have to bring up the subject that lay like an abyss between them. He came around the edge of the piano to stand in front of her. "Do you still think I'd try to take him from you?" he probed.

  Her head jerked up. She met his eyes, and he read the unspoken fear at the back of hers.

  "He's a fine boy, Molly. Any man would be proud. I know you're responsible for that. You've done without to care for him."

  "It was never a sacrifice," she replied, reddening slightly.

  "I know that, too." He searched her face for what was in her mind. "Are you afraid I'll take him from you? Is that what you think," he whispered, his voice urgent, "when you touch me? If I don't, he'll take Tobie'?"

  Her gaze darted over his shoulder and through the adjoining room to the one beyond where the agent paced, in sight but out of earshot.

  Charlie didn't even turn his head. "She's not gonna intrude here, Molly. She wants to ice this deal." He moved closer, crowding her. "Answer me. Is that what you're thinking... when I put my hands on you?"

  As if to underscore his words, he grasped her waist and pulled her to him, then settled his palms over the soft curves of her bottom. "Tell me, Molly. Is that what you think when I touch you here?" He nudged against her. "And here?" One hand slid to her breast and kneaded gently, possessively. '"If I don't let him, he'll take Tobie.'"

  Her hands went to his chest to push him away, but he pressed his forehead to hers, rocking against her as he had so many times in the past, and her will fled. She felt the moist warmth of his breath on her cheek, inhaled the spicy cinnamon scent of his gum, the citrus tang of his after-shave. Beneath her palms his heart beat out a steady rhythm as insistent as his words.

  "Tell me, Moll. Is that why you let me? Is that what you think...when I touch you?"

  She turned her face into the open collar of his shirt and pressed her mouth to his thudding pulse. Molded tight against him, she could sense her nipples stiffen until they were as hard as pushpins. And, even through their clothing, she was certain he was aware of them, too. Feeling as exposed as if she were naked, she answered as honestly as she could.

  "Charlie, when you touch me, I can't think at all."

  The tension ebbed from him slowly. His hands moved from the more sensitive areas of her body to her shoulders, where his thumbs made caressing circles as he put her a little away from him. Hesitantly she lifted her head and met his gaze.

  It appeared her words had pleased him. "Good," was all he said in reply, but his smile was easy and his eyes mischief-filled.

  He swooped his hat from the piano and tamped it back on his head. "What d'ya say we go take a look at the bedrooms?"

  Moments later, his eyes on the gentle sway of Molly's hips as he followed her up the stairs, he was questioning his sanity. They turned into the first room, light and airy like the others, but he only saw the bed. Or rather, the bed with visions of Molly sprawled upon it in reclining splendor.

  It went pretty much like that from room to room, each bed seeming more inviting than the last. Small beds, actually, he realized as he took another look around. The staircases and doorways in these old houses weren't built to accommodate the big mattresses and box springs.

  Well, that was all right. They wouldn't need an Olympic-sized bed for what he had in mind. They'd had some fun times in that little twin he'd cadged from home when Molly had spent summers off from college with him. He'd had fun, anyway, he thought, remembering.

  She'd gotten awful quiet. He watched her stroll into the last room, the only one with a bath attached, according to what he'd seen on the listing. This chamber was larger than the others, allowing space for a sitting area in front of the fireplace. He followed her into the room and came up behind her just as she entered the bathroom.

  He let out a low whistle. The bath had obviously been another bedroom, maybe a nursery, when the house was built, and converted at a later date. They could have held a dance in it, although he intended to keep any parties held here strictly private.

  The walls were covered in some flocked paper of a deep red shade. Bordello red, he'd call it, but not to Molly. An honest-to-God chandelier hung from the ceiling over the tub, provoking thoughts of the interesting light patterns it might cast on wet skin. Above the gold-veined marble sink, a huge gilt-framed mirror hung at an angle from the wall, reflecting what appeared to be a spectacular view of the tub. For the first time Charlie found himself wondering about the elderly couple who had owned the home.

  Directing his gaze to the tub, he swallowed hard. It was a monstrous thing, big as a boat, with the copper plumbing for it coming right up through the floor. What appeared to be a copper boiler for hot water was attached to the pipes, though he wasn't sure it was in working order. The tub sat on clawed feet and was rimmed with polished wood. Charlie had never seen the like.

  He slid his gaze to Molly, who was standing silently, open-mouthed. As if she felt his attention, she turned to face him. "I believe I could float in that tub," she said weakly.

  He glanced from her to the tub and back, a wicked smile curving his lips. "I believe we both could. We'll have to try it sometime."

  Molly pulled herself together with a little shake and walked past him through the bedroom and out to the hall. "Would you like to see the third floor?" she asked when he joined her.

  He shook his head. "If you're happy with the place, let's just skip it. I don't think I could stand to look at another bed."

  She laughed her throaty laugh and headed down the stairs. Life was definitely looking up, he thought as he followed her.

  The mood in the car on the way to the hospital was light. They had initiated the necessary paperwork to rent the house. Charlie had instructed Molly to redecorate as she saw fit and not to be chintzy about it. Molly understood him well enough by this time not to argue the point.

  "What will you be doing when you leave this afternoon?" she asked.

  "We've got a show in St. Louis tonight. Tomorrow all of country music will be converging in Nashville to rehearse for the awards show Monday."

  "Oh, yes. I remember." She'd already arranged to have Tobie stay up late to watch. "You're nominated for an award yourself, aren't you?"

  He nodded, not taking his eyes from the road. "Couple of 'em. I don't expect we'll win this year. We've had our share. The new talent needs the recognition."

  How like him to downplay his own achievements. He'd been named Top Male Vocalist last year, and the year before that if she remembered correctly. A dart of guilt pricked her as she was reminded of an incident she'd noted watching last year's program. She'd given short shrift to the possibility that her presence in his life might have caused an upheaval in another relationship. "The woman who kissed you...last year when you won...did she mean a lot to you?" />
  He turned to look at her this time, a slight frown puckering his brow. "Who? Dolly? Honey, Dolly kisses everybody. It doesn't mean anything."

  She had to laugh. "No, not Dolly," she said, feeling just a little presumptuous referring to an icon by her first name. "The woman who was sitting next to you."

  She had him there. He couldn't remember attending that show with anybody special. As near as he could recollect the female on his left had been his seven-year-old niece, and the one on his right had been... "You don't mean Janine?"

  "Well, I don't know her name!"

  He chuckled to himself. This was gonna be fun. "Describe her for me."

  "She had big hair." From the corner of his eye he could see her hands fluttering around her head. "Blond. And big..." She made a cupping gesture, chest high.

  "Boobs," he supplied helpfully.

  She threw him a disgruntled look, ready to jump on his vulgarism, but he beat her to the punch. "That's Beau's wife."

  Her head whirled. "Beau's married?"

  "Beau's married." He grinned and nodded firmly. "Fell a ton. It was fun to watch, him being such a lady's man."

  Molly stared out the windshield, momentarily speechless. Robert "Beau" Cochrane had been a lady's man, ail right. Playboy of the Western World...or Wheeling, West Virginia, anyway. Seven years older than Charlie and handsome as sin, he'd been light-years beyond her experience. He'd been having his way with the ladies while she was still shinnying up trees with his skinny little brother, so she knew him only by reputation, but that had been the stuff of legends.

  Still, if Beau had the looks, Charlie had the presence. Put him in a roomful of females and he seemed to suck out all the oxygen, leaving them panting. She shifted a quick glance at the air-guzzler. "I hadn't heard."

  "Oh, yeah." He favored her with a charming smile. "Janine was real happy we won that award. She dropped twins not two weeks later."

  "Do tell." He was teasing her now. She was in for it. Ignore him, her momma would say, and he'll stop. Momma never did have a handle on Charlie.

  "Mmm-hmm. If the camera had panned below those honeydews—" he imitated her cupping gesture and she rolled her eyes "—you'd have seen the watermelon underneath." He very generously demonstrated that contour with his hands, too.

  She told him with a look to keep his hands on the wheel and he just laughed. She sensed he wasn't finished riding her yet.

  "I had absolutely nothing to do with that, Moll. I ain't sayin' I've been a saint the past few years, but I never plowed that field."

  Her hands came up to contain the laugh that erupted despite her better judgment. Charlie grinned widely.

  "So, Beau's got two little girls," he went on, "cute as June bugs. In about a dozen years he's gonna be frantic, trying to keep them away from the guys like him."

  "Is he a good husband?"

  "Yeah." He glanced her way again. "Most of the men in my family have been dragged kickin' and screamin' to the altar. We do all right once we get there." He turned the car into the hospital parking garage and stopped at the gate to get a ticket.

  "The girls were traveling with us for a few weeks this spring."

  Molly couldn't hide her surprise. "On the road?"

  "Oh, yeah." He nodded, his eyes roaming the garage for a space to park. "These long spells apart are no good for family life. Most of the guys bring their wives and kids when they can. Even if it's just for a weekend. Come summer, when schools let out, it gets to be a regular circus."

  She had never imagined that. It sounded like fun.

  "I'd be bringing you along, if Tobie was able." He slowed and maneuvered the car into a slot. "Maybe next summer."

  She mulled the idea over while he cut the engine and set the brake. "Isn't it kind of hard to find any privacy?" she asked.

  "Honey." He gave her that devil-eyed grin again. "I'm the boss. Rank does have its privileges. We have our own bus."

  He pulled the keys from the ignition and handed them to her, a silent reminder that he wouldn't be with her when she left that evening. She bent to tuck them into her purse, then lifted her head to see him disposing of his gum in the little piece of wrapper he'd dug out of his jeans. She smiled at the pang of recognition that pierced her. He'd always been fastidious about some things.

  Catching her eye, he removed his Stetson and balanced it over the space between the dashboard and the steering wheel. Then he unhitched his seat belt and turned to her. "I'm going to kiss you goodbye right now," he said. "Because we won't get another chance to be private.. .and we don't want to shock Tobie."

  A slight shiver coursed up her spine and she braced herself for his possession, but he surprised her. With a gentle hand he released her seat belt and grazed his knuckles across her breast as he pushed the strap from her. He slid to the edge of his seat and coaxed her to come to him with his hands and his smile and his eyes.

  His eyes. Gazing deeply into them, she was struck anew. They weren't dark brown as were those of so many people whose eyes appeared black. Charlie's were a deep midnight blue and they glittered now with tiny lights like the rhythmic pulsings of faraway stars.

  They beckoned her and she slipped into his arms. He dipped his head low over her, but still he didn't kiss her. He cradled her jaw in his warm palm, brushing his thumb along her bottom lip and firmly pulling it down as his own lips parted above hers. So close. So close she could see each spiky lash, each pore, the flare of his nostrils with each breath. And still he didn't kiss her.

  She gripped his shoulder, cupped a hand to the back of his neck and dragged him to her, closing the final distance between them. She heard the feral sound of satisfaction that rumbled from deep in his throat when her tongue sought his. He was generous in his victory, his tongue plunging deep, seeking the sweet hidden recesses of her mouth, eliciting her soft whimpers of response.

  His cunning fingers stroked her throat until she arched to him, showing him wordlessly where she needed his hands to be. And for long minutes they kissed, and suckled, and petted, until both knew they had to stop or go too far.

  Charlie raised his head first, then lowered it once more to curl his tongue one final time around the nipple that lay exposed, glistening between the parted edges of Molly's blouse and the bra that had been shoved out of the way. When he lifted his head again, they were both panting.

  "Honey, don't look at me like that," he muttered, "or it's not gonna matter that we're in a car in a public facility, or what time of the month it is." -

  In answer she closed her eyes and turned her head into the arm that supported her, opening her mouth and nipping his biceps through his shirtsleeve.

  He sucked in a deep gulp of air. "Oh, that's a big help, Moll. C'mon, honey, we've gotta stop."

  She twisted around to look at him. "You started this." She was talking to the top of his head. His gaze was centered on her breast again. She watched in fascination as a single blunt fingertip circled the areola and her nipple stiffened at his touch.

  He raised his head, smiling into her eyes. "You have beautiful breasts. Did I ever tell you that?"

  Her head rocked slowly against his arm.

  "You do. You have the most beautiful breasts I've ever seen." He winced slightly. What a stupid remark, Kick. She doesn't want to hear about other breasts you've happened to see. He wanted to touch her again, but she started to sit up and pull her clothes together.

  "Turn around, honey," he said. "Let me hook you up."

  She did as he told her, her stomach fluttering wildly when his hands slid around to help her adjust herself into the cups of the bra. She buttoned her blouse as he connected the hooks.

  "You know you can get these to fasten in the front," he offered.

  She looked daggers at him over her shoulder.

  "It's just a suggestion! You can go without, too. That's fine with me. At least around the house," he amended. "Not when you're getting groceries at the A & P."

  Her laughter came out in a huff. "Charlie, what a sexist
thing to say. I thought you were a real nineties man."

  He wasn't about to be dissuaded. "Molly, you're endowed. I'm a guy, okay? I know how they think. And when it comes to that, the nineties man is no different than the guy from the Stone Age."

  She twisted around to face front again, tucking her blouse into her skirt and he gave her the once-over. She looked thoroughly kissed and her hair was all over the place, but that was the style now. He finger-combed his own hair, glad he could just stuff most of it under his hat. His jeans still felt a little snug, but he thought he could pass muster.

  He blew out a deep breath. "Let's get inside. While I can still walk."

  * * *

  Molly leaned her head against the wall of the elevator and closed her eyes. Charlie'd been gone only a few hours and she wondered listlessly if this was to be the pattern of their life together. A short, vibrant spurt of days when Charlie was present and every cell in her body was on red alert. Then the long, slow, weighty stretches of his absence when she seemed to hover in suspended animation. She opened her eyes and glanced at the flashing numbers. Even this elevator trip down three floors to the cafeteria level seemed to take place in slow motion.

  Pressing her lips together, she was reminded by their tenderness of that impassioned kiss. What had come over her? Thank God for the modicum of privacy provided by the dim garage and the tinted windows of the car. She'd never been so wanton. She knew if he had urged her further she would have succumbed, no matter the public circumstances or the time of month.

  It was almost as if she were in some kind of thrall to him.

  She had loved the boy, and she had loved the youth, but neither had prepared her for the man. The man was such an enigmatic combination. The friend and confidant of her childhood, her first and only lover, and the celebrity whose present way of life was beyond her comprehension.