Guilty Pleasures

by Stella Cameron

  “He may have made a leap like that I told him you had some problems we wanted to work out together. If he made something of that, then you can’t blame me. It’s not my fault if his mind’s on a single track.”

  Polly blinked. Sometimes the man stole her every lucid thought.

  “Let’s get inside. Rose will be wearing holes in her priceless carpets waiting for us.”

  “Of course Jack made something of what you said. The whole cast will think I’m… Well, they will.”

  “Think you’re shacking up with me?” he asked in a helpful tone. “Maybe that would be a good cover. I still think someone’s going to try to find us. When they do, I’ll be ready, and then we’ll both be able to sleep well.” A smile flitted over his remarkable face. “And do other things well if I get my way.”

  Telling him he wasn’t subtle was unlikely to move him. “I’m calling my mother as soon as I get settled.”

  “That’s not a good idea.”

  “I’m calling my mother. And Fab. Unless you want them running to the police and reporting me missing. If I tell them they’ve got to keep quiet, or risk hurting Bobby and me— they’ll keep quiet. In fact, they wouldn’t tell anybody even if their toenails were being pulled out.”

  He leaned back and shoved his keys in the pocket of his jeans. “We’ve got to keep your nose out of the trashy thrillers you’ve obviously been reading. Pulling out toenails? We’d better buy you some good romances.” His next smile was the most brilliant he’d ever shown her. “They might help convince you a good man is what you’d like to have in your life. You’re right about Venus and Fabiola. Call them, but let me help you decide what to say first.”

  She got out of the car in time to see a small, bosomy woman with a curly, white-blond ponytail rush down the front steps. While Bobby stood by and clutched Spike’s collar, Dusty absorbed the woman’s flying embrace with evident enjoyment. “Rose?” Polly asked uncertainly

  “God, no,” Nasty said. “Nellie, Great woman. Runs Cheap Cuts in Past Peak. Beauty salon, I understand.”

  “She likes Dusty.”

  “Dusty likes Nellie. Come on.” He held her hand and started forward, settled a hand on the back of Bobby’s neck when he drew level. “This is going to be fun, Bobby. There’s even a windmill here.”

  “Dusty said we’d go fishing,” Bobby said. “Dusty said you can get fish this big up here.” Bobby’s arms couldn’t spread any wider than he spread them.

  “Uh-huh.” A frown replaced Nasty’s smile. “Did he tell you he’d teach you to wrestle grizzlies, too?”

  “Nasty,” Polly said, and nudged him in the ribs.

  Bobby rolled his eyes. “It’s okay, Mom. I know when I’m being kidded.”

  Dusty and Nellie waited for them on the veranda. Nellie looked at Nasty and sighed. “Same old story. The best ones are always taken by the time they get to me.” Her crooked little moue endeared her to Polly. The very energetic hug she gave Nasty caused mixed feelings. When she reluctantly released him, she said, “Rose is… Well, Rose is Rose. She’s been twittering ever since Dusty called to say you were all coming. I spend as much time as I can with her—especially when Tracy can’t be here. You remember Tracy? Purple mouth? Nose ring? Doc Martens? She used to be a shampoo girl for me.”

  “I’m not sure I do remember her,” Nasty said, so politely Polly craned her neck to see his face.

  “Rose pays better, and she thinks Tracy’s fads are great. You know how Rose likes to watch the world without getting too close. Tracy usually lives in, but she’s in Seattle visiting her mother for a week, so I’m sleeping over nights to keep Rose company.”

  Dusty had already entered the house. Leaving Spike on the veranda, they went in, too. “How are Mort and Zelda?” Nasty asked. To Polly, he said, “They own that diner I showed you.”

  “Great,” Nellie told him. She led the way into a spacious living room heavily scented by vases and bowls filled with pink roses. “Here they are, Rose. Doesn’t Nasty look good enough to eat?”

  Polly saw his face color and suppressed a smile.

  A beautiful blond woman rose from an overstuffed couch upholstered in rose-covered brocade. The same brocade adorned a love seat and three chairs—and a chaise in a bay window. Small roses rioted over sumptuous drapes, and climbed heavy, slubbed wallpaper.

  The picture should have been overwhelming rather than elegantly opulent. Elegantly opulent described Rose Smothers and her house perfectly.

  Rose held a magazine to her chest. “You’ve come,” she said. “I just knew you would. A gentleman’s word is his word, and you are both such gentlemen. My daddy taught me to know a gentleman when I see him. And a lady,” Her sweet smile lighted on Polly.

  “You’re looking lovely, Rose,” Nasty said, surprising Polly again with his gentleness, his virtual courtliness. “You should wear lots of that color blue.”

  “You think so?” Rose swung a little at the waist, shifting the long skirts of a chiffon dress in two shades of blue. A satin frog closed the neck of a perfectly cut matching silk jacket. Her shoes were also blue satin, and she wore big blue crystal earrings.

  Vague discomfort overtook Polly. She didn’t check her watch but figured it couldn’t be later than eight-thirty in the morning. Rose looked ready for cocktails and the theater—or a presidential ball.

  “She looks a picture, doesn’t she?” Nellie said, apparently accustomed to her friend’s eccentric taste.

  “A picture,” Dusty agreed, staring at Rose with open admiration. “She always does.”

  “Not quite like this, though,” she said, holding out the magazine to Polly. “Maybe you’ll be able to help me choose something really in style while you’re here. I never quite know, you know.”

  Polly took the book and discovered it wasn’t a magazine, but a sales catalogue. She also found herself looking at a model wearing a blue outfit identical to Rose’s. Even the earrings and shoes were the same. And the blond model’s hair was upswept, a thin blue ribbon wound into a braided chignon— just as Rose’s was.

  Rose had bought everything advertised in the picture—and copied the hairstyle. Polly handed back the catalogue. “You look better than the model,” she said, meaning every word. More catalogues were stacked beside the couch—and another heap reached the arm of one chair.

  “We need to get your guests settled,” Nellie said in a rush. “Why don’t I show them their rooms?”

  The hairdresser’s anxiety didn’t need explanation. She was; afraid Polly would notice the obvious—Rose Smothers was charming, but she was also eccentric and locked in her own world.

  “Why, Nellie,” Rose said. “I know they’re tired, dear, but I won’t hear of them not sitting down and joining me for tea before they do another thing. Do sit down, all of you. I don’t believe I heard your boy’s name, Polly,”

  Bobby, who showed nothing but his usual shyness at an introduction, suffered Rose’s kiss to his cheek with only a re strained wrinkling of his nose. “My dog’s outside,” he announced. “His name’s Spike.”

  “Most welcome, I’m sure,” Rose said. “Nellie, you make sure Spike has what he needs, too, dear.”

  Nasty had subsided into the stillness that was part of him. Still watchfulness. He studied Rose, and the sadness Polly thought she saw in his eyes saddened her in turn. He cared for Rose Smothers the way good people care for good people. Nasty also regretted that such a lovely, charming creature was so ill equipped for the world.

  “I gotta get back,” Dusty announced, too loudly. “Gotta open that shop of ours, Rose. Nasty’s and mine. The one I can’t get you to come and see.”

  She fluttered a hand. “I’ll visit one of these days. I’ve been so busy lately. You know how busy I am, Dusty. Phoenix calls every day, bless her dear heart. And I talk to the babies.”

  “Hey, Dust.” The sound of Nasty’s voice startled Polly. “Get Seven and take her in with you, will you? Make sure she eats. She gets funny when I’m not around.” />
  “Sure I’ll feed her.”

  “Seven’s Nasty’s cat,” Rose said, seating herself at the bench before a white grand piano. “Cats love Nasty. That’s always a sign of a good person—if cats love them. Cats and any animals. You come back soon, Dusty. Do you hear me?”

  “I hear you, Rose,” Dusty said. “I’ll see myself out, Nellie. And I’ll keep an eye out for Seven. Don’t suppose you’d like me to check on that damn… I mean that boat of yours, Nasty.”

  “That’d be nice.”

  “That’d be nice,” Dusty mimicked. “Never mind the damn… I mean, never mind the great big expensive boat. Doesn’t give that any more thought than an IBS, property of the US government. But he worries his fool… He worries about that mangy, ungrateful cat, though.”

  “Don’t speed on the way home,” Nasty said. He moved close to Polly, and said in a low voice, “He always cleans up his mouth for kids, and Rose.”

  Dusty stopped in the doorway. He stared at Polly. “I picked up a little something to give to your mom. Because she helped me out that time. Would you take a quick look at it before I go—-just to let me know if she’ll like it. I haven’t had much experience buying gifts.”

  “Except for kid gifts,” Nasty muttered. “Ask to see the playroom sometimes.”

  Polly gave a half smile and excused herself. With a feeling of relief, she emerged from the house into the brightening sunlight on the veranda.

  “It’s not her fault,” Dusty said, coming to a halt at the bottom of the steps. “Her father sheltered her. From what we can figure, her mother took off with some man when Rose was a little kid and her father never got over it. He probably had some old-world notion about kids inheriting their parents’ rotten traits.”

  “Some do.”

  “Yeah. But they don’t always. And you gotta let people have a chance to live.”

  “She’s young. Maybe she’ll change.”

  He gave her a hard look. “She’s not as young as she looks. At least, that’s the way I figure it. And she’s happy. Could be she ought to be allowed to stay the way she is. There’s plenty of people hereabouts who think so. She’d do anything for a friend. Maybe we should say prayers we run into more people like Rose Smothers. Anyways, it’s not my business.”

  “You’re sure it isn’t too much for her? Having Bobby and me here?”

  “Look at her face. Look at the smile in those brown eyes of hers. She won’t want you to go at all. She’ll make you promise to come back and visit and you’ll do it. Remember I told you that. And you’ll come back to visit Rose. Everyone does.”

  Still uncomfortable, Polly shrugged and joined him on the gravel driveway. She started for the camper, but Dusty’s arthritic hand on her elbow stopped her.

  “That was a crock,” he said. “What I told you about something for Venus.”

  Startled she turned back. “I wondered what you were talking about. When you said she’d done something for you. I couldn’t think what it had been.”

  “She’d do something quick enough if I asked.” Defensiveness on her mother’s behalf was the last thing Polly would have expected from Dusty. “She’s a good woman, your mother. Generous. Spontaneous. Too many people spend a lot of time thinking before they do anything. That way they often never get around to it. When I get back to Kirkland I think I will just find something for Venus. Woman like that deserves a little thoughtfulness.”

  For the second time that morning Polly felt she’d entered the Twilight Zone. “I’m sure she’d be very grateful. Was there a reason for you to get me out here with you?”

  He frowned. “Of course there’s a reason. Why would I tell lies if I didn’t have a reason.”

  “You wouldn’t.” She waited. When he didn’t say anything more, Polly asked “What’s an IBS?”

  Dusty’s jutting brows drew even lower. “Why would you ask a fool question like that? Out of the blue?”

  “Because you mentioned it,” she told him, becoming impatient. “IBS, US government issue. You said—”

  “All right. Sure I did. I was just checking to make sure you’d heard exactly what I said. Navy term. SEALs. IBS. Inflatable Boat Small. Standard issue to SEAL teams.”

  “I see.” She didn’t really.

  “Hmm.”

  Polly cleared her throat. “Nice camper.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Nasty said there was a fire in it once.”

  “Stupid,” Dusty said his frown not even softening. “Stupid trick. Good job Nasty’s quick. He’s always been quick. He and Roman were the best men I ever trained.”

  She raised her brows in question.

  Dusty reddened slightly. “I was their trainer. SEAL officers are always trained by enlisted men. It’s part of the discipline. Same for all special forces.”

  The bond between these men made her a little jealous. How much room would any of them ever have for someone else? Out of habit, to mask any feelings that might show on her face, she made a study of her tennis shoes.

  “I gotta get goin’.”

  “Yes. Thanks for helping bring us. I think it was easier having you with Bobby. He’d have nailed me with his questions.”

  “Nice boy,” he said. “Needs a man around.”

  “Kids do,” she said automatically.

  “No disrespect, but I understand his father’s not much good.”

  “No disrespect taken,” Polly said. “Sam’s a loser. He always was a loser. I don’t want him anywhere near Bobby.”

  “Nasty’ll make sure he doesn’t get a chance,” Dusty said. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  He had her entire attention. “About Bobby?”

  “About Nasty. He’s important to me.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you?” Sharp eyes bored into her. “I wonder if you do. What’s he to you?”

  She swallowed air.

  “Just a man? Or something else?”

  “We…” This wasn’t anything she’d expected from Dusty Miller. “We haven’t had a lot of opportunity to know each other yet.”

  “I think you have. I believe in instinct where people are concerned. So does Nasty. He had to make his own breaks. I don’t suppose he’s told you that.”

  “No.”

  “No. He wouldn’t. But I know. He’s sure of himself now. Comfortable. Hell of a SEAL, let me tell you. The best, him and Roman. This country’s lucky to have men like them.”

  Polly regarded him, and said, “And like you.”

  Dusty waved a hand. “Never mind me. What’s Nasty to you? I asked.”

  She pressed a forefinger to each temple. Even the fresh morning air didn’t clear her head enough. “I’m not sure yet.”

  “Yes, you are. Either you want him, or you don’t.”

  “Did he ask you to talk to me?”

  “He’d kill me if he knew I was talking to you.”

  Kill. She wondered for an instant if she could talk to Dusty about her misgivings at the thought of Nasty being a man who had killed other men. Would Dusty understand why she trembled at the idea of making such a man a permanent part of her life, of her son’s life?

  “I want to know,” Dusty said.

  “Why? We’re both grown-ups. You have to allow grown-ups to make their own way, Dusty.”

  He shuffled his feet. “I promised myself I’d always look out for Nasty and Roman if they needed me.”

  “You’re loyal.”

  “So are they. So’s Nasty. That’s how he ended up with a shattered ankle and lying half-dead in a South American jungle.”

  “I’m not going to do anything to hurt Nasty. I… I care too much about him for that.”

  She received another brilliant-eyed stare. “Care?”

  “Yes. Yes, I do care about Nasty.”

  Several seconds passed before he said, “It’s going to have to be more than that. He let on how he told you he might be able to… well, to love you.”

  Sweat gathered between Polly’s
shoulder blades. She felt oppressed and excited, at the same time. “He did say that. He also told me afterward that he’d been hasty. I think—”

  “I don’t think he was hasty. He tried to back off a bit because he was afraid he might scare you off by coming on too strong. He told me that, too.”

  “Dusty, I don’t think Nasty would feel good about us having this conversation.”

  “We’re having it anyway. And I’m telling you one thing before I go. He’s trying to hold back. I may not have a lot of experience with this sort of thing, but I know I’m right. Don’t hurt him.”

  Polly glanced toward the house. “I couldn’t hurt him. Men like Xavier Ferrito don’t hurt that easily.”

  “They might if they did something dumb. Like love a woman who doesn’t love them back.”

  “Dusty…”

  He stared her to silence. “No. Hear what I’m saying to you. A man like him could hurt big time if this woman was the first and only one he’d ever allowed himself to love. Don’t let it go any farther if you aren’t ready for what it’ll mean. It’s all or nothing for men like Nasty Ferrito. He was trained to hate without holding back. But he trained easy because it was instinct for him. He’ll be the same way about love.”

  Polly needed to sit down.

  “If you can’t handle that,” Dusty said, “you’d better tell him to get out now.”

  Twenty-one

  “No guest hosts,” Jack told Mary. There had to be a way to distract her without drawing the attention he couldn’t afford.

  She hummed and began to dance, swirling her hair, shaking her hips, strutting between the abandoned cameras. They’d sent the crews home at noon, when Art and Jennifer Loder decided to scream at each other and refuse to continue.

  Gavin clapped in time with Mary and laughed. “You’ve got to admit she’s talented, Jacko,” he said.

  “You’ve got to be good to keep bread on the table in L.A.,” Jack said, preparing for Mary’s fury, but not caring. “If you’re trying to make it in the business, that is. Mary found it helped if you could be on the table with the bread. Danced on a lot of tables in your time, didn’t you, Mary love?”