The air outside smelled great after being inside the karaoke bar. New York City had outlawed smoking in bars, thank goodness, but it hadn’t figured out a way to ban the odor of old beer, ancient Naugahyde, and sweaty bodies rocking out to “Born to Run.”
“You okay?” Nick still had his arm around me.
“Mm-hmm,” I replied.
“I take it that was your husband?”
“Soon to be ex-husband. Yeah. A real winner, huh?”
“Well,” he said, laughter in his voice as he walked me over to a nearby bench, “at least he can take a punch.”
I giggled as I sat down and leaned back against the bench. He sat next to me, his leg right against mine. He draped his arm behind my head. If I leaned my head back, I’d rest it right on his arm.
I pulled my spine straighter.
“Thanks for getting me out of there. I hope they don’t do any permanent damage to each other.”
Nick chuckled. “Judging by what I saw, there’s no chance. Unless bruised egos count as permanent damage.”
“With those two, it probably does.” I sighed. “Man, I have bad taste in men. Wimps, braggarts, and—” I stopped myself just in time.
“Men who say no,” Nick finished. He pulled me tighter toward him with the arm that was around my shoulders. I held my breath, wondering what he was going to say.
“Molly, I—” I looked up into his face. The look in his eyes made me all quivery inside, and I didn’t think that was just because I hadn’t had enough oxygen lately.
He leaned down and kissed me.
At first, it was one of those romance-novel kisses, the kind that’s just sweet in a getting-to-know-you kind of way. His lips were firm and soft and hard and wonderful and every other seemingly banal adjective I’d ever read. It was anything but banal.
And then he gripped my shoulder tighter, pulled me even closer, and went to work.
Man, could he kiss.
He did this swoopy thing with his tongue, gently easing it into my mouth and tasting me, then pulling it back so I was left wanting more. Which, no dummy, I did.
He pulled away completely, then moved back in and licked my lips with his tongue, outlining them in the gentlest, sexiest way imaginable.
Then he moved back in and dove into my mouth, taking possession of it until I felt as if I were going to melt into a little puddle at his feet.
At the same time, his hand was rubbing slowly up and down my arm. The feel of his strong fingers on me made my whole body react until all I wanted to do was to crawl inside of him and feel safe and at home.
It was the most sensual experience I’d ever had, with clothes or without. No one had ever kissed me like that, as if they were making love to me with their lips and tongue alone. It was delicious, it was heavenly, it was—
“Molly, I’m sorry.”
Finished.
I pulled away, moving my fingers up to touch my mouth. My lips were warm from his, my body still tingling in reaction.
“Oh, no need to apologize.” I kept my voice matter-of-fact, even though the effort made my jaw hurt. “Damsel in distress and everything, I know how it is.”
I started to inch away from him on the bench, keeping my eyes locked on the ground. If I looked at him I’d probably burst into tears, and that was the last thing either one of us wanted.
“Molly, look at me.” Did he want to see my final humiliation?
I raised my chin and stared him in the eyes. What I saw there made me lose my breath all over again.
His deep blue eyes had softened, somehow, the dark depths showing a level of emotion I’d never seen there before. He was smiling, a rueful smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners in the most adorable way I’d ever seen. He looked sad, and happy, and bittersweet all at the same time.
I was guessing there wouldn’t be a speedy resumption of the whole making-out-on-a-bench thing anytime soon. Rats.
“Nick, it’s fine, really.”
He placed his fingers—his long, knowing, sexy fingers—on my chin and held my face still. “No, it’s not.”
Just as suddenly as he had held me, he released me, and he dropped his head into his hands on his knees. I moved back over to him, putting my hand on his back and giving him a tentative rub.
“What is it?” It didn’t seem to matter anymore that I had a mad crush on him and he wouldn’t—or couldn’t—reciprocate. What mattered was that he was my friend, and he was obviously in pain.
He lifted his head slightly and turned it to look at me. “It’s you. It’s me. It’s us.”
I increased the pressure on his back. “Now you sound like the hero in one of those trashy novels I read. Come on, Nick, it can’t be that bad.”
He rubbed his hands on his thighs, as if bracing himself for something.
I waited.
“I’m married, Molly.”
“Oh. I guess it could be that bad.” I pulled my hand off his back, as if it were poison. I even rubbed my hand against my pants as if to scrub him, scrub the proof of him, off of me.
Married. Oh, God, I hope he doesn’t have kids. Why the hell wasn’t he wearing a ring?
He got up and stepped away a few paces. I eyed his back nervously. “Um, so want to tell me about it?” Like who is she, where is she, and what were you doing kissing me if you’re freaking married?
He turned back toward me. His face was set in resigned despair.
“She’s Simon’s cousin. Distant cousin.”
“Oh.” Was she as beautiful as Simon? As successful? Smarter?
He came and sat back on the bench. I noticed he kept his body carefully away from mine.
“We got involved when I was in England working for Simon’s family’s company. Her name’s Emma, she’s back in England. We separated a few months before I got here.” He leaned his forearms on his knees and stared at the ground. “She was . . . she was cheating on me for years, almost as soon as we got married. I didn’t know it, of course, I was too busy working. When I found out, it was too late to do anything.”
“What would you have done?”
“Tried to work it out. I’m not a quitter, Molly, I married her believing it was till death do us part. I’m also not a cheater. We’re still married, I still owe her the honor of treating her respectfully.” He cleared his throat. “But since I’ve been here, I’ve been . . . dealing with a few things.”
Ah, the therapist. No wonder. He went on, “And kissing you, getting involved with you, is not honorable, no matter what my personal feelings are.”
Of all the men in the world, I had to fall for the one who most resembled a Japanese warrior. Great. Why couldn’t he have been just a little more caddish?
Oh, but then he’d be just like Hugh.
“Okay. Thanks, I guess. But why didn’t you tell me before? Why aren’t you wearing a wedding ring, the universal ‘stay away’ signal?”
“Mol?” Keisha poked her head out the bar door. I heard the unmistakable sounds of “Like a Virgin” escaping from behind her. Was that Lissa singing?
Her face cleared when she spotted me, then she seemed to recognize the look on my face, because she started to scowl.
“It’s fine, Keish, I’ll be back in a minute.” She nodded, threw a menacing glare at Nick, then withdrew her head back into the bar.
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t find out who she was seeing until I got here.” He blew out a deep breath. “It was Simon. And when I found out, I flung the ring somewhere, I don’t know where it landed.”
“Ouch. I thought you said he was her cousin?”
“Distant cousin.”
“Not distant enough, I guess.” My hand flew to my mouth. “Oh, sorry. Shouldn’t have said that.”
He laughed, then took my other hand in his and laid both our hands on his thigh. “No, you should have. That’s what I lo—like about you, Molly, you say what you think. I don’t think you could lie if your life depended on it.”
“No. I stink at po
ker, did I ever tell you that?” And that my hand is on your thigh, did you know that, too?
“You didn’t need to.”
“So I’m still confused. Even if it was Simon—”
“Simon asked me not to say anything. It’s over, it was over between them within a few weeks, apparently.” I wondered how he could stand to continue to work with the guy. He must have heard my unspoken question. “I owe it to the company, if not to Simon, to keep working with him. A lot of the employees in Simon’s company have invested their own money in opening this shop. They believe in Simon’s talent. I believe in Simon’s talent, for that matter. And if word got out that two of the principals were involved in such a messy drama, our company’s future would be in jeopardy. I couldn’t do that to my employees or to Simon’s family.”
I felt my mouth drop as I looked at him. “Wow, you really are honorable. Just warn me if you’re going to do that falling-on-a-sword thing, okay, because I don’t like blood. It’s hard to get the stains out.”
He chuckled, then gripped my hand more tightly. “There’s more to it than that, too, or I would’ve told you. It’s—it’s complicated.”
“I should be going back.” Because if I stayed out here any longer with him, I would probably do something pathetic, like beg him to kiss me again. Or haul off and hit him. Or both.
“Molly, wait. I’d like to take you out to dinner before I head back to London. I leave in about a week. Is Tuesday night good with you?”
Tuesdays with Scary again. Only this time it’d be Tuesday with Soon-to-Be-Leaving-the-Country-and-Taking-My-Heart-with-Him.
“Tuesday night.” I rose, somewhat shakily, and walked through the door without looking back.
“What’ve you been doing out there, girl?” Keisha asked with a leer as I staggered back inside.
“Nothing, unfortunately.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Really? Coulda fooled me. When I saw you guys before, he was looking at you like a starving Irishman eyeballing a pile of corned beef and cabbage.”
“Keisha, for goodness’ sake, can’t you just use similes and metaphors like a good liberal arts graduate? Jeez, Louise, it’s all that carpenter’s fault.”
She gave a satisfied smile. “All his fault, yes indeed.”
“I bet you guys think you invented sex, too,” I said in an undertone.
“What was that?” she said.
“Nothing,” I replied with a smile. “So anyway, what did I miss? Did Hugh and Simon finally settle their differences?”
“Yeah, Simon jumped on Hugh and kneed him in the back. Lissa pulled him off, and she and Hugh left out the back door. Apparently Hugh didn’t want to see you again.”
“Yeah, well, the feeling is mutual. So Lissa is still out there with him? Should we call her?”
Keisha waved a hand. “Girlfriend can take care of herself. Besides, Hugh’s no threat, right?”
I thought of Hugh’s penchant for Waspy blondes. I thought of how he wasn’t nearly as smart as he thought he was, and how Lissa wasn’t nearly as dumb as she thought she was.
“No. No threat at all,” I said with a smirk. Just to be safe, though—“Hey, John, you wanna go out and make sure Hugh and Lissa are okay?”
“You okay?”
Keisha pushed her head out from under Aidan’s ancient Thomas the Tank Engine quilt. She’d left Mike at an old college friend’s house after the Freedom Party so we could have some time to ourselves. We’d stayed up until 5:00 A.M., but a Lifetime on Aidan’s Schedule meant I was up bright and early at eight. I’d given Keisha the courtesy of sleeping until nine. That’s the kind of friend I am.
“Mmpshglk,” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.
“I brought you coffee,” I chirped, handing her a cup.
“Thnkkkssshu,” she replied, grasping it with unsteady hands. She took a big sip. “So you gonna call Nick today?”
She would not let up. “We went over this last night. No, I won’t.”
She shrugged. “Whatever you want to do, hon. It’s your funeral.”
I gave her a smirk. “No, it’s my Freedom Party.”
“A Freedom Party where your soon-to-be-ex got his butt kicked. That was pretty sweet. Too bad it was Simon, though. You were totally right about him.”
“Yeah,” I said slowly, “I thought he was interesting at first, but I realized it was just the British accent and the sleek clothing. Underneath it all, he’s just a bubba.”
“Whereas Nick . . .”
“Nick’s a stone-cold fox, but I have to get over this silly crush. Besides, he’s leaving the country, Keisha. I don’t think there’s a chance for us no matter what his ‘complications’ are.”
“But you’re seeing him on Tuesday, right? So you could have one night of passion.” She put the back of her hand to her forehead and sighed dramatically.
I batted her hand away from her head. “Have you been reading my trashy romances again? Because it doesn’t happen like that in real life. In real life, something like that is called a one-night stand, and it’s usually sordid and you feel tacky and cheap afterward.”
“Darn.”
“Yeah, darn is right. I just hope I can handle Tuesday without freaking out. At least not too much.”
My only question was, how much was too much? And what would I possibly say to him?
I only had a few days to figure it out.
Lord of the Pies
You won’t need your glasses to view the delicious taste of these chocolate cream pies. They’ll make grown, professional, too-gorgeous-for-words men cry. And you’ll be elected ruler of the island without having to kill anyone. Unless you consider death by chocolate an actual mercy killing.
26
“WHAT THE FU—THAT IS, WHAT SHOULD I WEAR?”
Aidan, Keisha, Mike, and Lissa were all perched on my bed, trying to help me figure out the best outfit for the Not Quite a Date, but Not Quite Not Dinner with Nick. My bed hadn’t seen so much action since—well, ever.
“Black. Black’s a good choice,” Keisha advised, a sassy grin on her face. I glared at her, then dove into my closet. I emerged with two pairs of black pants, a black dress, and a black and white skirt, just for variety’s sake.
“So?” I laid everything out on the bed, trying not to notice Mike’s and Aidan’s complete lack of interest.
“The black pants. These,” Lissa said, gesturing to the ones with the low waist. “You look sophisticated yet casual.”
Keisha rolled her eyes. “Honestly, can’t you drop the fashion oxymorons? Just wear whatever makes you look skinniest. That’s what you want to wear, right?”
Mike leaned over and covered Aidan’s ears. “Just wear whatever makes you look hot. Like, you know, with cleavage.” He removed his hands from Aidan’s ears. Aidan just smiled at him—he and Mike had already played about a thousand games of Justice League, so Mike could do no wrong.
My girlfriends nodded. “He’s right. Give him some skin, baby,” Keisha said, reaching over and yanking a slinky black tank top from the top of my bureau. She held it out for me to take.
“But it’s March! I’ll freeze!”
Keisha kept her hand out. “Would you rather be warm or warm?” she said, giving me a wink. Only Keisha could wink like that and not look like a perv.
“Warm.” I sighed, taking the top from her hand. “And now, if you guys will get out of here, I’ll get dressed.”
When the bell finally rang, right around seven, I’d managed to screw up two applications of eyeliner and was thoroughly convinced my eyebrows were mismatched. In other words, a typical pre-evening out.
Keisha opened the door to let Nick in, but only after I admonished her about behaving herself. I still didn’t trust her, but at the moment, I looked like the women from those old Tareyton cigarette ads from the 1970s where everyone was sporting a black eye and a cigarette. Yeah, I’d rather fight than switch, too.
I heard their voices drift through the hallway. Nick sounded smart, solid, go
rgeous, and totally unattainable. All that from a few overheard words.
Oh, who was I kidding? I was so spoony over him I was surprised I hadn’t sent him a Secret Admirer card like Bob Farrell did to me in third grade. I’d wound up with bubble gum in my hair and he’d gotten a split lip.
“Be right out,” I called from the bathroom. I dropped my eyelash curler on the floor and immediately stepped on it. Keisha came into the bathroom and fussed with my top, pulling it lower. I immediately hiked it back up.
We walked down the hall together, her trying to drag my top down, and me fighting valiantly to hitch it back up.
She won, but that’s because I let her.
Nick was sitting on my sofa, surrounded by Mike and Aidan. Lissa was straightening up, bless her heart. Nick rose as soon as he saw me. “Ready?”
I nodded, struck dumb in his presence. I wondered if it had taken two women, one Irish carpenter, and a six-year-old Power Rangers fan to get him dressed. Probably not.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Keisha sang as she locked the door behind us. Sometimes my friends could be too cute. I gave a nervous giggle as Nick offered me his arm.
“So where are we going?”
He opened the building door for me. I passed close enough to him to smell his scent, that totally masculine smell I’d adored even when I thought he was Mr. Forbidding.
“Actually, I was hoping you might want to take me to one of your favorite spots,” he said, giving me this look that almost stopped me dead in my tracks. Or was it that he was actually soliciting my opinion? Hugh had always assumed he’d known best, and Simon had seemed to assume I’d known nothing.
“Um, I really like this Indian place down the street. Or maybe Italian? I mean, if you don’t like Indian, some people can’t eat coriander, they think it tastes like soap. Or Chinese, there’s a good Chinese place just a few blocks away . . .”
“Indian’s fine,” he said, stopping my babbling.
We walked in silence for a block.
“Mol—”
“Nick—” We spoke in unison. “You first,” I said.
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