by Diana Hunter
She glanced at the clock and laughed out loud. She’d set a record. John couldn’t be more than two miles away yet and here she lay, fully sated at his envisioned hands. Sitting up, she pulled the panda and vibe from between her legs, shutting off the battery-operated piece of bliss.
“Tomorrow,” she promised herself. “Tomorrow I’ll get my act together.”
* * * * *
Of course Beth wanted details. “C’mon, girl. Tell me! Did you let him get lucky?”
Lauren made coffee, as at home in Beth’s kitchen as she was in her own. Probably more so. Behind her, the baby played on a blanket Beth had laid out on the floor of the kitchen, her attention caught as much as by her own feet as by the tripod of toys that dangled above her.
“No way,” Lauren teased as she spooned coffee into the filter. “I don’t kiss and tell.”
“Why not? I do.”
Beth had been pretty forthcoming about the relationship she and Paul had forged. Over the years, Lauren had learned to rely on Beth’s instincts in so many things. A natural leader, it was easy to let Beth plan everything and just go along with her. Paul, apparently, had discovered the same thing.
Lauren liked Paul. He reminded her of herself. Easygoing, laid-back, not ambitious. No, Paul wasn’t that last. That adjective belonged solely to her. She was the one who couldn’t get herself moving in any direction. The status quo fit her just fine, even if it put her in a rut. A rut she’d been enjoying quite well, thank you, until John had come along.
“Yeah, well, you and Paul have an interesting…sex life.”
“And you need one.”
Lauren bent down and pushed a triangle on Emily’s toy to set it swinging. “I don’t want any more short-timers, Beth. Look at this.” She stood and gestured to the homey kitchen, the baby on the floor, the settled feel of the entire scene. “I’m ready for this. And I’m not going to get it if all I do is satisfy my lust.”
Beth narrowed her eyes as if Lauren had become an interesting artifact that needed careful study. “Are you really ready for this? For the diapers and the crying and the mortgage and staying home because you can’t get a sitter? Are you really?”
Lauren snorted. “Okay, maybe not entirely ready.” She ran her hand through her hair. “But I’m getting there. At least I’ve finally figured out that I do want it. You have to give me credit for that.”
The timer on the coffeemaker dinged and Beth got up from the table to pour two cups. “It’s a huge step for you, Lauren. I know that. And I’m glad to see you make it.”
Lauren heard the finality in Beth’s voice, a finality that implied, “I hear what you’re saying but pardon me if I don’t believe you”. Not that she blamed Beth. Lauren had been pretty hard to live with these past few months. She sighed.
“I guess I’ve been pretty full of myself. I’m sorry, Beth.”
Beth chuckled. “You had a right to be. I won’t pretend to understand what you went through over there.” She handed a mug to Lauren and sat beside her. “I’m glad to hear you talking about the future. That’s a good step forward.”
“And I’m thinking it’s a future that might just include Big John, if I didn’t scare him away last night.”
At Beth’s inquiring eyebrow, Lauren related the fiasco in the parking lot.
“Yeah, but he didn’t run away,” Beth pointed out when Lauren finished. “He made a point to give Mrs. Boorman something to gossip about. In fact, you’re going to find your reputation in the apartment complex seriously discussed by the time you get home today.”
Lauren laughed. “He didn’t run away. And that’s why I think this one might be—” She stopped and shook her head. “Nope. Not going to say it. Don’t want to jinx it.”
“Are you going out with him again?”
Before she could answer, her cell phone gave out a chickadee’s chirp. With a blush, Lauren stood up. “I’m about to find out. This is him.”
Lauren made for the back deck, sliding the glass door shut behind her as she answered John’s call with a forced gaiety in her voice. “Morning!”
“Thought I’d call and see how you were this morning.” His voice sounded husky, as if he’d just gotten up. Lauren found it extremely sexy.
“I’m doing quite well, thank you. I don’t stay down for long.” She rolled her eyes. Could she possibly be more inane?
“Good to hear. There’s a band playing at Parker’s this Friday night. Would you care to join me?”
Lauren’s heart beat hard. He wanted to see her again. Tossing her head and affecting a nonchalance she didn’t feel, she answered, “I’d love to. Shall I meet you there? Or…” She banged the heel of her hand on her forehead. She was such an idiot. She didn’t want to meet him there, she wanted him to pick her up and ravish her. Hadn’t he promised to tie her up? Focus, Carr, focus.
“I’ll pick you up at seven. Don’t eat. If you can last until we get there, they have great chicken wings.”
“You’re on.”
“See you Friday.”
“See you Friday!”
She shut the phone and groaned. The door slid open immediately.
“Well? Come on, don’t keep me in suspense. Did he ask you out again?”
Lauren nodded. “I sounded like a star-struck teenager. I can’t believe I got tongue-tied!”
Beth wiggled her eyebrows. “I’m pretty sure he’ll manage to straighten out that tongue if you give him half a chance.”
Laughing, they went inside, Beth already giving her clothing suggestions and pick-up lines.
John snapped shut his phone and stared at it, puzzled. Lauren sounded particularly chipper this morning. Bright. Perky. Not adjectives he would’ve used to describe her based on either of their two previous meetings. Was he rushing things to ask her out on another date so soon?
Then he remembered the pliant feel of her lips under his. She felt good in his arms. No, she felt incredible in his arms. Yeah, perky or not, Lauren Carr deserved another chance.
Through the front window of his bungalow John saw Will pull into his driveway. How long had his friend had that beat-up, old Chevy truck? The red paint had long given way to rust in several places, the tailgate latch replaced with a twist of heavy rope and the springs had sprung years ago. Yet Will clung to the truck as if it were the love of his life. John opened the front door as Will rolled down his window.
“Gotta hit the hardware store. Wanna come with me?”
“Give me five minutes. Need to find my sneakers.”
John couldn’t figure out where his sneakers disappeared to each night. Hadn’t he taken them off yesterday in his bedroom when he went to get dressed for his date with Lauren? Nope. Not there. Not in the bathroom or his closet either. He circled around through the living room, into the kitchen and found them beside the back door. That’s right. He’d mowed the lawn and taken them off because they were full of grass. Quickly he opened the door and slapped them, soles together, until most of the dried grass had fallen off.
Shoes on, he grabbed his keys, patted his back pocket to be sure he had his wallet and headed out the door.
“What’re we shopping for?” John asked, closing the door gingerly lest it fall off its rusty hinges. The screech of metal on metal made him wince. “A can of WD-40, I hope.”
“Suppose I probably should give her a splash on that door.”
“More like a quart.”
Will pulled out of the drive and headed down the street, both windows rolled down in the summer heat. John didn’t bother protesting, The AC had stopped working on this old thing long ago. He looked over at his friend and shook his head.
“I cannot see Jill allowing you to keep this rust bucket.”
Will’s grin showed his dimples. Jill had often told John it was those dimples that caught her eye and his skill with a rope that captured her heart. Lauren had dimples like that. Would Lauren appreciate John’s skill with a rope? Or would she call the cops on him?
“Jill knows better than to come betwe
en a man and his vehicle.”
John snorted. “This beast long ago lost the privilege of being called a vehicle.” A movement near his foot caught his eye and he sat back in surprise. “Is that a hole in the floor?”
“Yeah, it’s new. One of the reasons I’m headed to the store. Figured a strong piece of plywood’ll do it.”
“Do what? Will, I feel like Barney Rubble. Are you sure Dino’s not in the backseat?”
Will laughed outright at that and turned onto the highway. “Hold on, you’re liable to feel a draft.”
Between the wide-open windows and the air rushing up through the hole in the floor, John didn’t even make an attempt at conversation. Will’s dirty-blonde hair, kept in a tidy ponytail for the summer’s reenacting, stayed out of his face. John didn’t have that problem. Too many years in the service trained him to like it nearly nonexistent and easy.
They pulled in to the hardware store and John went in with his friend. Inside they parted ways as Will went in search of a short-term solution to his newly air-conditioned truck and John just wandered until he found himself in the rope aisle thinking of Lauren.
The first day they’d met he’d told her he would tie her up and make love to her all night long. When he’d said it, he really hadn’t had much more than a fun night in the sack in mind. Then she’d gotten skittish over his time in the military. When followed up by a panic attack, it just hadn’t seemed right to prey on her vulnerability.
He picked up the end of a particularly thick white rope and considered it. This would be good for an overall tie. A loose one, anyway. Pretty hard to make tight knots with something that thick. He imagined Lauren’s skin crisscrossed with the white and let the rope drop. No. Her coloring needed something with a little more contrast.
A slightly thinner black rope had possibilities. This would look quite good wrapped around her body, securing her, keeping her safe.
Will came up beside him and John dropped the rope back into place. With a sigh. “Probably going too fast to tie her up in that yet. I don’t even know if she’s going to like her sex kinky.”
“Jill likes it. I bought fifty feet and she made me come back for fifty more.”
“It works well?”
Will nodded. “Very well. She can’t get out of it at all.”
“I’ll definitely keep it in mind. Did you get your plywood?”
“Yep. They’re cutting it to size now.”
The two sauntered over to the counter and picked up the makeshift floor. As they left the store, John glanced back and grinned. “You try telling women hardware stores are sexy places to shop.”
“They’re the best! Come on, let’s get this in.”
Together they slid the precut plywood into place on the floor. John sat on the seat and tried it out, stomping on it to test it.
“Okay, don’t stomp too hard or I’ll need a bigger piece of wood. There’s rust falling every time you stomp,” Will told him.
“I think you need a new truck, Will.”
“Yeah, I suppose.”
* * * * *
Will dropped him back at his place. “Don’t forget, two weekends from now—huge reenactment coming up.”
John made a face. “It’s on my calendar. Wouldn’t miss the one hundred fiftieth anniversary of Antietam.”
“Next few years are going to be packed with reenactments. You got in at just the right time, newbie.” Will grinned and shook his head. “They’re expecting a couple thousand of us. Gonna be one hell of a weekend, I’ll tell you that.”
“Jill coming?”
“You betcha. She’s got a dress and everything. Hey! Bring Lauren!”
John laughed and got out of the truck. “One step at a time, bud. One step at a time.”
“Have fun tying up Lauren!”
John shut the door and Will’s truck wheezed and sputtered down the drive. Shaking his head, he went inside to examine his bag of bondage toys and make some decisions about how to craft the best scene for a newbie of a different sort.
Chapter Five
Lauren dressed casually, looking as if she’d just thrown on a few things suitable for dinner at a local pub. She wore a full, flowered skirt that swished when she walked, a matching solid T-shirt in soft rose and a celery-green scarf that picked up the colors of her skirt. She wore flat sandals of dark brown, her hair gently pulled back from her face with the artful use of combs and a pair of cloisonné earrings dangled at her ears. Of course, it had taken three outfit changes, several hairstyles and no fewer than six different pairs of earrings to achieve this thrown-together look.
The knock on her door came promptly at seven. With a final smoothing touch to her hair, she picked up her clutch purse and opened the door.
Damn, but why did men have it so easy? He wore an open-necked blue oxford with the sleeves rolled up. A simple brown belt held up jeans just tight enough to show off his ass, even if she couldn’t see it from here. Tonight he wore a Stetson, which he now pushed back on his head as he gave a low whistle.
“You clean up mighty fine, Miss Lauren. Mighty fine.”
She laughed. “And good evening to you too, Mr. McAllen.”
He held out his arm and she took it, pulling her door firmly shut behind her. With a quick twist of the doorknob to be sure it had locked, she set herself proudly, gave Mrs. Boorman a swish of skirt and disappeared down the hall with her young man.
“Hope you’ve had a good day,” he remarked as they walked to the curb where his SUV sat waiting.
“I did. And you?”
“Quite fine. Thought up all sorts of activities for us.”
The way he said the words gave her shivers. Activities? For them? Immediately her thoughts flew back to his threat to tie her up and make love to her. But they were at the car and he’d opened the door for her. Instead of taking his bait, she simply smiled coyly and accepted his hand up.
Parker’s, a mid-sized pub with lots of live music and friendly banter, lived up to John’s promise of excellent chicken wings. Hot for him, mild for her. “No thanks,” she told him when they ordered. “I like the lining of my throat, thank you very much.”
The band’s equipment sat ready for them in the corner, but as yet, no one had come forward to play. The waitress delivered their wings and a beer for each of them. Lauren gestured to the array. “What time do they start?”
The waitress grinned. “Whenever they get here.”
Lauren only raised an eyebrow and the waitress explained. “MishMASH is a unique group of guys. You’ll see. I expect they’ll be coming in soon.”
She left and John explained. “These are all older guys who get together and play for the fun of it. They have a standing gig here to play every Friday night. The setup you see there?” He gestured to the mikes and speakers, the drum set covered with a drop cloth and a low piano that had seen better years. “That all belongs to the owner here. He provides it for bands who don’t have the money—or roadies—to bring their own stuff.”
“And MishMASH doesn’t have a lot of their own stuff.”
“Right.”
At her doubtful look, John just gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, you’re going to love them.”
They dove into the chicken wings, the honey sauce of the mild wings dripping from her fingers and the tangier hot sauce making John grab for the celery and bleu cheese. Their banter, light and frivolous, felt just fine to Lauren and she relaxed into the ease of the evening as she downed her second beer.
John listened to Lauren tell him about a band she’d heard play overseas and noted how her guard seemed to be down tonight. She spoke of being away from home as if it were the most natural thing in the world. From his own experiences, he understood how two extremes could live in the same psyche. There were times he “forgot” about his years in the desert. There were times he actually thought he enjoyed it. And then there were times when the nightmares came.
Tonight Lauren remembered only the good things. He liked watching t
he way her eyes sparkled as she told the story of the band’s mishaps. He wondered if she’d been a groupie, she seemed to know so much about them.
But then her eyes widened and her head dropped as if she didn’t want to be seen. A hand dropped on his shoulder and he turned as a loud voice boomed out. “Hey, John, how the hell are you?”
John looked up, relieved to see Pete, the lead singer of MishMASH. “Hey, Pete. I’d shake your hand, but…” he gestured with the chicken wing he held as an excuse. Pete laughed.
“It’s okay, bud. I’ll excuse you this time. Who’s your friend?”
Lauren looked up and John could swear he saw guilt in her eyes.
“Lauren! I didn’t know you were back in town!”
“Hey, Pete.”
Her voice was faint and her smile weak. Obviously they’d met before and Lauren didn’t want to renew the friendship. Pete didn’t seem to notice.
“This’ll be great. All the guys are here. Ted, Shaheim, Sinbad. Hey, don’t tell them you’re here. Let’s spring a surprise on ’em!”
“No, that’s—”
“I gotta go get set up. This’ll be so cool!”
“Pete, I…” Lauren called after him, but the singer had already left.
John simply raised an eyebrow in inquiry. Lauren dropped her chicken wing onto her plate and sat back.
“Damn it. The band I was telling you about? This is them.” She closed her eyes then opened them in entreaty. “John, I didn’t know…”
“And Pete’s the lead singer you…spent some time with.”
She nodded. “It was nothing. You can see that. He didn’t even try to kiss me.”
John understood perfectly. Liaisons overseas in the heat of battle had urgency and meaning that faded upon returning home. He had a few of those in his past as well. Yet, with Lauren, he wanted something more. She would understand his demons just as much as he understood hers. When he told her about them.
Tonight, however, her relationships and demons came first. “We don’t need to stay.”
For a moment he thought she would take him up on his offer to leave. Then she took a deep, steadying breath and put both hands, palms down, on the table. “I’d like to stay. But I need another beer.”