by Karen Muir
When will I learn? It would have been so easy to tell Will her reason for telling the boys she had a boyfriend. He’d have understood, and the two of them could have laughed it off. Instead, she’d blown her little fib into a monstrous bubble that would pop three days from now.
Turning onto her street, she caught sight of her newly painted house. Desert Beige looked good, the only sensible decision she’d made recently. Parked in her driveway, she watched a tanned, shirtless man descend a tall ladder propped against the side of her house. Arms folded, she sized him up.
He had dark eyes and hair and wore snug, low slung jeans that revealed a lean, yet muscular, body. Presently, his tanned chest was splattered with Desert Beige, but he probably cleaned up good. Sexy and a little shy, he could pass for an artist. Her stomach lurched at the awkward task ahead. Summoning her courage, she got out of her car.
The bare-chested man was cleaning his spray gun as she approached. She called out above the hissing noise. “How’s it going, Leonardo?”
He turned off his sprayer and straightened to face her. “One more day, and this job will be done. You like it?”
“It looks great.”
“Are you sure about that Deer Hide trim? Bright contrast colors are all the thing—reds and purples. Turquoise, maybe.”
She shook her head. “I’m into earth tones.”
“Whatever.” He turned back to his cleanup.
“Uh, Leonardo? I wanted to ask you something.”
He faced her again. “Sure.”
An agreeable man. This might not be hard. “I’m going to a party Saturday, and I need a date.”
“Hmm.” He scratched his chin. “I’ve got a cousin, Louie—”
“No, I was thinking of you.”
Clearly startled, his eyes widened. “Well, hey, that’s really nice of you. You’re a great-looking chick.” He looked down and shifted his feet before glancing back up. “But I’ve got a steady girlfriend, and she wouldn’t like it.”
“That wouldn’t be a problem because this isn’t a real date.”
“No?” He looked confused.
“No.” She smiled nervously. “I did something silly. I told the man I work for I have a boyfriend, and I used your name. Now, he’s invited me to his sons’ birthday party next Saturday, and he wants me to bring you along.”
“Ahh.” Leonardo grinned. “You’re trying to make him jealous.”
“Oh no. Not at all. I just don’t want him to think I made you up.”
“Gee, I’d really like to help you, but I work on Saturdays.”
She spoke in a desperate rush. “This party will be lots of fun. There’ll be tons of food and a swimming pool and a trampoline.”
Leonardo shook his head.
“It would just be a couple of hours.”
“Sorry.”
“I could pay you.”
He straightened abruptly. “Full day, hourly wage.”
She tapped her chin. That was steep. “Half day,” she countered.
“What time?”
“Be here at one o’clock.”
He nodded. “You got a deal.”
…
On Saturday, Leonardo arrived at Gina’s an hour late in his beater ’96 Plymouth. She met him in the driveway and wasted no time on recriminations. “I’ll drive,” she said, unlocking her Subaru. “Get in.”
When he did, she backed out of the driveway and sped down the street. Beer fumes drifted toward her from the passenger side. “Phew.” She waved her hand in front of her face. “Are you sober?”
“Sure. An old friend came by, and we had a beer.”
“One beer?”
“Maybe two.”
She rummaged in her purse and pulled out cough drops. “Here,” she said, thrusting the box at him. “Eat them all.” He crunched them noisily in his mouth as they drove across town.
Cars lined the driveway and streets near the party house, so Gina parked two blocks away. She and Leonardo walked back and stopped on the sidewalk to gawk at the sprawling stone mansion with its green-carpet lawn, drooping cedars, and colorful flower beds.
“Wow,” Leonardo said. “It would take a week to paint this house.”
She nodded. “It’s a palace, all right. I’d love to talk to their gardener.”
They walked to the front door and rang the bell. An apple-cheeked maid in a black dress and white apron let them in. Leonardo’s eyes went agog. “Whoa, mama. Where’s the party?”
“Everyone is out back.”
“Are you coming, too?” he asked.
“No, sir,” she said politely.
Gina took his hand. “Cool it, Leonardo. You’re with me.”
“Okay.”
What had happened to her shy house painter? They passed through candle-scented rooms in soft pastels and stepped through French doors onto an expansive backyard of tropical shrubbery and bright flowers. The stone patio teemed with the young and trendy—tanned, slender types wearing miniskirts, shorts, and sandals and sporting multiple rings and body piercings. Gina’s navy skirt and white eyelet top fit the casual dress code, but she’d never liked crowds. She would only stay long enough to parade Leonardo in front of Will and say hi to the boys, and then leave.
She and Leonardo eased their way past an enormous buffet, where guests chatted, sipped drinks, and nibbled hors d’oeuvres. Conversation buzzed around them, and everyone seemed to know everyone else. She looked around for Will and the boys. A handful of swimmers splashed in the pool. Beyond that, she spotted a gazebo and—oh boy—a formal English garden with shrubbery and statuary as far as the eye could see. She would definitely stay long enough to explore that.
A tall blond Barbie came up to greet them. “Hi, I’m Bree. You must be Gina.”
“Yes.” Bree was a knockout, and Gina could easily hate her for that. Instead, she held out her hand. “Glad to meet you.”
“Same here.” Bree took her hand. “Will’s told me how lucky he is to have you. You’re great with his boys.”
She winced inwardly at Bree’s praise. Will was not as lucky as he thought. She turned to her companion. “This is my friend, Leonardo.”
Leonardo took Bree’s hand and bent low to kiss it. Gina suppressed a groan.
“Très galant,” Bree cooed.
“Yeah, babe. Wanna show me around?”
Bree smiled and reclaimed her hand. “I’ll let Gina do that. The boys have been looking for you. They’re in the pool.”
Graciously dismissed, Gina was anxious to find Ian and Harry. So far, she’d seen no other children at their birthday party. She spotted the boys splashing each other at the shallow end of the pool. Will sat watching them from the side, wearing a gray T-shirt and shorts and dangling his bare feet in the water.
“Hi, guys,” she called, peering down at them.
“Hi,” they yelled back, looking waterlogged and happy.
“Hi, Will.” As if on cue, Leonardo’s hand slid possessively around her waist. The man caught on fast.
Will stood and nodded curtly as she introduced her “artist boyfriend.” Leonardo grinned and shook hands amiably, but Will’s manner was that of a scrappy dog guarding his bone. Probably a guy thing. She knew better than to think he was jealous.
“Taking a break from your painting?” he inquired.
“Yeah,” Leonardo said. “Saturday’s usually my busiest day.”
“How’s the water?” she cut in, turning the conversation back to the boys.
“Warm. Come on in,” Harry said.
“I didn’t bring my suit.”
“Bree’s got extras,” Will told her.
String bikinis? No thanks. She shook her head. “Thanks, but I think we’ll just watch today.”
“Did you see our cake?” Harry asked.
“It’s awesome,” Ian said.
“We’ll go look right now.” With a wave for the boys and her frowning employer, she took Leonardo’s hand and pulled him toward the buffet table. She’d forgotten
to tell her hired date he was supposed to be a “sensitive artist.” Not that it mattered now. Leonardo had served his purpose, and she would keep him well away from Will.
“Wanna dance?” Leonardo asked.
“Not now. Let’s check out the cake.”
He nodded. “Sure thing. I’ll just get us some drinks at the bar.”
“None for me,” she called out, but he was already gone. None for you, she should have said. Leonardo had a reckless side to his personality that made her uneasy.
Winding through the crowd, she came to the buffet table where a mammoth white sheet cake sat in the middle. Double sized for the twins, it was decorated with SpongeBob and Squidward and wished Ian and Harry a happy birthday in bold letters. She could see why the boys loved it.
Turning back to the throng, she looked for Leonardo and spotted him at the bar. He’d be back soon with the drinks, so she loaded a plate and circulated around the buffet, listening in on conversations about people she didn’t know or care about. Munching a celery stick, she glanced around again for Leonardo.
He was still at the bar, and he’d been drinking the whole time. Damn, what a lush. She had to get him home while he could still walk. Setting down her plate, she wove through dancing couples to reach the other side of the patio. Leonardo was no longer there. Frowning, she turned and saw him dancing with Bree.
She watched them warily. Leonardo was incredibly graceful and sensual, she had to admit. He and Bree gently bumped and swayed and touched. Oh no, Leonardo—watch those hands. If Will saw that, there would be trouble.
She had no choice but to break them up. With repeated excuse-me’s, she pushed through the dense crowd until she reached the gyrating couple. Hiding her urge to choke Leonardo beneath a cheery grin, she tapped Bree on the shoulder. “Hi there. My turn.”
Bree turned to her, smiling. “Leonardo’s great. Where did you find him?”
“You’d never believe me.”
Bree laughed. “Keep your secrets. My guy’s a pistol, too.” She stepped back from Leonardo. “Have fun, you two. I’m going to mingle.”
Before she could say, “Let’s go,” Leonardo caught her arm.
“Relax, boss. You deserve one dance. We’ll take it slow and easy.”
She almost said no, but she’d accomplished her mission, and Leonardo really was an exceptional dancer. She went into his arms and followed his deft lead. Swaying and circling, she lost herself in the music, then stiffened when his hands suddenly roamed south. “Hands off my butt. I’m not paying you for a grope.”
“I’m throwing it in free.”
As her hands slid to his chest to push him back, a deep male growl came from behind her. “Take a hike, Romeo.”
She turned to see her employer giving her date the evil eye.
“Okay.” Leonardo gave a jaunty salute and walked off unsteadily.
She watched with concern as he shuffled toward the bar but turned back at the touch of Will’s hands pulling her into his arms. He looked more like he wanted to fight than dance. Had he spotted the wayward hands? Did he think she liked it?
“You’re angry,” she said.
“Not at all.” His tense body said otherwise.
Whatever. Forgetting about her loose-cannon date, she turned her head to look over Will’s shoulder. He felt sturdy and solid against her, more muscular than Leonardo, but less of a dancer. She didn’t care. His were the arms she wanted to feel around her, and if his hands strayed to her butt, she’d find it hard to protest.
Dangerous thoughts. “Where are Harry and Ian?”
Will pulled back slightly to meet her gaze. “They’re upstairs, watching a Disney flick.”
“Are they having a good time?”
“Somewhat. They’re the only kids here, but they love that monster cake.” He pulled her close again. “You feel tense. Relax.”
“Okay.” She laid her head on his chest and closed her eyes, wishing this tender moment could last forever. Will moved her away from the noise of the crowd, toward the rustle of leaves and the coolness of shade.
“Don’t go to sleep on me,” he warned.
“But I’m having such a beautiful dream. I’m on a tropical isle, with palm trees and balmy breezes. No crowds and no cares.”
“And no drunks.”
Amen.
They swayed to the gentle throb of a bass guitar, Will’s hands on her back. “My eyes are closed, too, and I’m on that isle, right beside you.”
She smiled. “Then slip off your shoes and take my hand. We’ll walk down the beach.”
A moment passed before he spoke. “Warm waves are running over my feet.”
“Mine, too. It feels good.”
“There’s a trail leading into the forest. Let’s take it.”
“Okay.”
“Watch out for that branch.” His hand cupped the nape of her neck, his fingers stroking gently. She almost purred. She and Will were flirting with the involvement they’d agreed not to pursue, but this shared fantasy was far too delicious to end.
His warm breath warmed her cheek. “Listen, I hear water. Must be a waterfall.”
She saw it, too. “Look, it’s spilling into a pool with red flowers growing all around. Let’s go for a dip.”
“You first.”
She saw herself wading hand in hand with Will into the pool. “Mmm, the water’s warm.”
“Yeah, it feels good. Let’s go out farther.”
“Be careful. It drops off.”
His arm slid around her waist. “Don’t worry. I’ll save you.”
“Can you swim?”
“Like a fish.”
She laughed as they ventured out farther. “It’s up to my waist now.”
“Scared?”
“Of course not.” She smiled up at him. “You’re here to save me.”
“Right.” He paused. “I have a confession to make.”
“Oh no, you can’t swim?”
“No. I’m not wearing a swimsuit.” His hold on her tightened. “Neither are you.”
She caught her breath, stirred by the sensual twist he’d added to their tale.
“Gina,” he breathed. His lips brushed her temple, and she nestled closer to him, wanting to be alone with him, skinny-dipping in that clear island pool.
The dreamy music faded away, but she and Will kept moving, until the raucous blare of a steel guitar shattered the mood. She winced and opened her eyes, and Will stepped back, his look of regret reflecting her own. “Back to the real world,” he said.
“Unfortunately.”
The crash of dishware sounded behind them, and she turned to see Leonardo standing on the buffet table. As she watched in disbelief, he kicked a tray of sandwiches out of his way and began an erotic sway, punctuated by bold pelvic thrusts.
“Oh no!” She hurried toward him, cursing herself for letting him out of her sight.
“Gina, wait,” Will called, but she kept going. A crowd had gathered, making it difficult for her to get through, but she could see Leonardo swiveling his hips like Elvis. God, no, this couldn’t be happening. Hands clenched, she watched in horror.
Leonardo unbuttoned his shirt and wrenched it off, swinging it in a wide arc over his head, stripper style. When he threw it out to the cheering onlookers, they chanted, “Take it off, take it off!”
Leonardo obliged by unbuckling his belt.
“Stop!” Her cry was swallowed up by the noise. Leonardo’s belt went the same way as his shirt. He unzipped his pants.
“Take it off, take it off,” the crowd roared. Gina glanced up and saw Ian and Harry hanging out the second story window, their eyes bulging as they watched the performance. She motioned for them to go back inside, but they were too engrossed to see her.
She tried to break through the crowd again, but the bodies were wedged together too tightly. Please, oh please, dear God, make him stop. Her plea was answered with merciful swiftness when Leonardo tripped over an hors d’oeuvres platter and fell face first
into the boys’ birthday cake.
Leonardo’s fans howled with laughter, while Gina ground her teeth in frustration. Leonardo was a baboon, and when she got him in her car, she was going to dissect him.
Will reached her side and took her arm. “Stay away from him. He’s drunk.”
She shook her head. “He may need help.”
Will preceded her as they pushed their way through the guests to the table where Leonardo still lay facedown in the cake. Will and a bearded man in a blue shirt rolled him onto his back. Gina saw his chest rise and fall. Thank God. He was passed out drunk but would live to dance another day.
“Let’s get him into the kitchen,” she said. Leonardo was a deadweight, and it took two men to help Will. They sat him in a chair at the kitchen table with his head lolled back. Gina got a dish towel and began wiping cake off his face.
By the time she finished, he came to and looked up at her with tear-filled eyes. “Gina, I’m so sorry.”
“You should be. As soon as you can walk, I’m taking you home.”
“The hell you are,” Will growled.
She turned to him in surprise. His mouth was a tight line of fury. “He came in my car,” she said. “I’ve got to take him home.”
“Call a taxi. You’re not going anywhere with this bozo.”
“Okay.” Shamed, she moved to the kitchen wall phone. Will was furious with Leonardo and her, too, and she couldn’t blame him. Her “artist boyfriend” had ruined the boys’ birthday cake and their party. Will had been humiliated, and so had Bree. And it was all Gina’s fault for staging yet another deception. When would she learn?
…
After Leonardo had been sent home in disgrace, Gina went in search of the boys. They were in the TV room upstairs with Will, gathering up jackets and swim trunks. She sat down on a couch across from them. “Guys, I’m sorry about your cake.”
Harry’s shoulders drooped. “It was really cool.”
“It was the best cake I ever saw,” she agreed.
“We never even got to taste it.” Ian sounded forlorn.
“You must be disappointed.”
“Yeah.”
At least the boys were talking to her. Will was not. As he stuffed Ian’s and Harry’s swimsuits into their duffel bags, he did not look at her.