Flashback

by Cait London

  She stood abruptly and faced him, her cheeks rosy with anger, her eyes flashing with that passion he loved to nudge—“Why didn’t you marry Mallory? You married everyone else. She lived with you. You should have married her, too.”

  Kyle leaned back, his arms crossed behind his head and allowed his legs to stretch out, framing hers as she stood in front of him. Mallory had needed his protection two special times, because she was afraid of who might come visiting at the apartment when she wasn’t up to “taking it.” But she always went back to the apartment and Nine Balls as if it had a hold on her, as if she knew her life would end there, an obsession she couldn’t break. “I offered. Mallory wasn’t buying.”

  “You’re pitiful.” Rachel looked pointedly down to where his legs had closed against hers. “I’m not going to ask you to let me go.”

  “Well, then, just how long do you think you can stand there?” It was always the same, Kyle decided wryly, he just enjoyed seeing Rachel’s composure skitter and change into real emotions. When he purposefully studied her breasts, she shivered and blushed and Kyle couldn’t help grinning up at her. He touched her hot cheek where that enticing dimple lurked. “Now, that is some reaction for a woman who isn’t interested.”

  “Stop leering and stay away from here.”

  “Sorry. Paid for a full year, compliments of Mallory. Deal with it.”

  “I’ll refund.”

  “Read the rules, honey. You have to have a real reason to kick someone out of here. Drunken or unacceptable behavior, that sort of thing. To my knowledge, I haven’t done any of that. What are you going to say, that you can’t trust yourself with me?”

  He stood slowly, allowing his body to come close to hers, watching her reaction. Rachel shivered just once, and then she took a step back. She’d gone pale and that flashing anger in her eyes was gone, replaced by wide-eyed fear.

  Had she been raped? Kyle asked himself for the second time in over a month.

  He didn’t like that dark glimpse into what Rachel hid so well by her competent, independent disguise. Stepping into Mallory’s life was certain to bring Rachel real trouble. “Don’t stay in that apartment, Rachel. You can’t help Mallory now. Why don’t you go back where you belong, find some rich guy and join a yacht and country club? Do what you have to do, and put Nine Balls up for sale.”

  He wasn’t prepared for the fist that shot out to grip his shirt, and after hesitating, he obeyed her tug, leaning down to look into those dark brown eyes. “Yes, dear?”

  “Stop telling me what to do, Scanlon. I’m a big girl—”

  “Oh, I know that,” he agreed, looking down to where her breasts were almost touching him.

  Maybe it was because he was raw from guilt about Mallory. Maybe it was because he’d driven across a state, and had worked hard before that, but Kyle had to put his hands on her, to know that she was safe—

  His hands opened on her waist, slid just a fraction to lock onto her hips, and the air between them stilled, then seemed to quiver with electricity. She was soft and curved in the right places, and she smelled like freshly mowed grass and flowers. Those wide brown eyes were filled with him as the heartbeats pounded silently by—

  Kyle couldn’t stop his fingers from digging in, locking onto her, kneading that softness. He’d never been this close to her and his instincts were humming, his body hard. She’d always gotten to him since the first day he’d seen her, wearing that mermaid outfit with the shells covering her breasts….

  Just that thought caused his hands to move slowly higher to frame her rib cage.

  He was just bending to taste that slightly opened mouth, to taste her that first perfect time, when the nudge of something hard and blunt touched him in a very vulnerable place.

  Kyle looked down to see the butt of a cue placed between his upper thighs. “Mm. Interesting.”

  “Yes, isn’t it?”

  “You think that could stop me from kissing you?”

  “I think it might.”

  He smiled at that; Rachel was back in form and she wasn’t afraid of him and that was very good. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Rachel. You sure know how to spoil a mood.”

  She looked down meaningfully. “The mood looks like it’s still there, Scanlon.”

  She was right; his body was humming, taut and full with the need to feed upon her, to taste her in every way—to make Rachel his…. Strange, Kyle thought distantly, that he’d never wanted to test a woman like he did Rachel, to call all that raw passion out where he could taste it….

  Kyle knew he could disarm her, but instead he lifted his hands away. He stripped Nine Balls’ key and the apartment one from his ring, tossing them onto the pool table, then he walked out the door, closing it behind him.

  He frowned as he lifted Pup into the Hummer. He’d seen that obsessive look in a woman before, in Mallory as she talked about how Nine Balls couldn’t fail, how she’d kill herself to keep it alive. Now Rachel had that same look, and she wasn’t listening to reason from someone who had been with Mallory down the whole horrific road to suicide.

  Harry hopped up on the running board and then into the front seat beside Pup. Kyle didn’t hesitate; he got in, started the vehicle, and drove in a U-turn, heading back for his shop. If Rachel wanted her cat, she’d have to come and get him.

  The thought of Rachel coming to him, all fired up, caused Kyle to smile.

  Then he glanced in the mirror at his reflection, unshaven, dirty, and eyes blurred from welding and exhaustion. “I’m going to have to make myself more appealing,” he said to Harry and Pup.

  He settled into thinking about Rachel, about Mallory’s obsession with Nine Balls, about those well-traveled steps to the upstairs apartment.

  “Why Rachel Everly, dammit? Why some high-nosed woman who can make my life miserable by making me jump through her hoops? Getting too close would be like walking over glass to toss myself on a bed of nails.”

  Kyle looked at where his dog and Rachel’s cat sat together on the seat, as if they were old chums. “Well, then. I guess the game is on,” he said as he reached to punch in Nine Balls’ autodial number.

  “Nine Balls. We’re not open for business yet. Please leave a message.” Rachel’s professional tone caused him to smile.

  “Message machines beep, and then you leave the message. How about dinner tonight? You know, dinner out, or an intimate candlelight one at my place? I’ll move the carburetor I’m rebuilding on the kitchen table, open a can of beer and grill some brauts and onions.”

  Her slight gasp caused his smile to widen. “No, thanks. Goodbye,” she said and then the line clicked off.

  “Always a lady,” Kyle murmured dryly as Harry came purring onto his lap. “And one with an attitude.”

  He rubbed the cat’s ears. “Gotta appreciate a woman with attitude. But she’s a hardhead and likely in trouble, because Mallory’s regulars just might think that one sister is as good as another.”

  “What did you say about Shane?” Jada looked up from the shot she’d been studying.

  Rachel placed her cue aside and cradled her mug of tea. Life passed slowly by Atlantis Street, Nine Balls’ old bluish windows serving wavering images of people and cars. Advising Jada to stay away from the man she wanted to marry wasn’t going to be easy…. “I think that Shane is a dangerous man and that you should be more careful of him, maybe stop cleaning his house.”

  Jada took the shot and missed; instead the cue ball rolled into the pocket. She straightened, leaned back against the pool table, and folded her arms. “I’m going to marry Shane. You’re out of bounds, Rache. You may have told me what to do when we were younger, but we’re both adults now. Just maybe you need to get your own man and stop worrying about my life.”

  “He had a relationship with Mallory—”

  “Of course he did. Shane was just doing his job and he’s a compassionate man. He told me that he tried to help her.”

  Rachel took a deep breath before she pressed on—“I think
they were more than that.”

  Her expression furious, Jada threw the cue down onto the table. “You’re so full of it. Just stay out of my life.”

  Jada marched out of Nine Balls and leaped into her ice cream wagon. It tinkled merrily as she pulled out onto the street, tires squalling.

  Rachel watched the wagon swerve and tilt precariously. She ached for Jada, but feared for her, too. Last night on the street Shane had been threatening, and Rachel could feel the violence, his anger in the damp air. If that temper would turn on Jada—Rachel shook her head and didn’t look forward to future discussions with her sister about Shane. “Well, Mallory. I think that went well, don’t you?”

  Kyle Scanlon had interfered too much with Mallory, and now he was putting the moves on Rachel. Kyle had always been a complication, supporting Mallory in her attempts to leave the master of her life. She’d stayed with Kyle while she was recovering from her abortions, and she’d later sworn that she hadn’t told Kyle about the secret man, the master of her life, the one she obeyed….

  Rage, hot and burning as lava, flowed through the man who had owned Mallory for years. He could feel his obsession with Mallory, for the sexual thrills she had given him, sliding to her sister, Rachel. But Kyle and Rachel were probably already intimate—his Hummer was parked in front of Nine Balls early this morning. Kyle’s relationship with Mallory was well known, and now he was having her sister.

  “I should have had Rachel that night in the park, had her first. She’ll pay for bedding Scanlon—a low-class mechanic. I don’t know why I’ve let him live this long…. Mallory had been holding out on me. She hadn’t given me all of her money…I saw that in her ledgers, once Rachel had transcribed them. Mallory had written monthly checks to Kyle. Now why would she do that? She knew I couldn’t stand him, and yet she disobeyed me, seeing him, calling him to help her—You’ve made another mess, haven’t you, Mallory? Rachel is going to be prowling in your life—and therefore in mine—and I will not tolerate anyone looking at my life…. What did you do with that doll?”

  In the silence, he thought he heard Mallory whisper, “You’ll soon see, lover. Feeling a little under the weather? A little headache? A little heart pain? A little malfunction when you’re trying to be a man?”

  Suddenly chilled, he thought he heard Mallory’s voice, “I’ll be waiting on the far, still side of tomorrow….”

  Six

  “YOU STOLE MY CAT, SCANLON. SINCE YOU LEFT THIS morning, no one but the locksmith has been in Nine Balls, and I was careful to open and close the door for him. If Harry had been around, he would have tried to run out then. I was just too busy to notice then.” Rachel drove the Caddie through Scanlon’s open gates and noted the muddy Hummer sitting beside the garage.

  In the hours between Kyle’s early morning visit, a hard and fast telephone row with Jada about Shane, and five o’clock in the evening, Rachel had been working hard, leaving Harry to hide and explore as usual. At ten, the locksmith from Bob’s Handy Hardware came to replace Nine Balls front lock and the one on the apartment, adding another dead bolt to each. Bob had dropped by to check on his man’s work and had helped move the refrigerator, so that she could clean beneath it.

  Since Harry didn’t like intruders, Rachel had supposed that he was hiding when several other people stopped by, including Terri, who had noticed the locksmith’s van. “That’s a good idea,” she said quietly, her eyes meeting Rachel’s in quiet understanding; Mallory’s keys could be on several men’s key rings….

  At eleven, Leon had called and she’d met him at her mother’s garage. “Scanlon specializes in these old cars. You should have gotten him, but I think a new starter and battery, cleaning off the cables, and changing the oil and antifreeze will get her up and running for now. She could use some new rubber and that’ll cost you. You got all greasy, helping me.”

  Leon Smith, a fifty-year-old mechanic, had reached down to wipe a greasy rag over her hip. Surprised that he would touch her, Rachel had frowned and stepped back. For just that moment, she recognized the lust on the mechanic’s face before he concealed it and mumbled, “Just trying to help. No offense.”

  Leon had worked on and off for Trina’s Used Cars for many years. A reclusive, quiet man, he lived alone in a small ramshackle house surrounded by junked cars. Jada hadn’t liked him from the start, and now Rachel had to agree that Leon was “scary.”

  That scenario had troubled Rachel as she showered and dressed, feeling refreshed in a white long-sleeved sweater and gray slacks. Used to dressing professionally, she took a few minutes with her cosmetics.

  She had held her breath as she turned the key in Buttercup’s ignition. The yellow Cadillac had coughed a few times, then she was gliding down the road, her big steering wheel turning easily. More difficult to parallel park than Rachel had remembered, Buttercup had stalled a few times in the process. After stopping at the electric company, city hall and other places to change Nine Balls’ bills to herself, Rachel returned to find that Harry had not touched the food she’d left for him. His litter box remained clean and unused and not a hair ball in sight.

  The last time she’d seen him was early that morning—when Kyle had left the door open…. She hadn’t hesitated to call him as she kicked off her black business pumps and slid into her comfortable thongs. He had answered after a few rings and sounded distracted above the metal clang in the background. “Have you seen my cat, Scanlon?”

  There had been the slightest pause before he’d drawled, “Sure. He’s around here somewhere.”

  “I’m coming to get him. And I’m in no mood to play games.”

  “Suit yourself,” he’d said, then had added softly, “I’ll be waiting, honey.”

  “You just do that.”

  Rachel eased Buttercup in next to the Hummer and walked into the office. It was empty. No one responded to her knock on the apartment door. She circled the big weathered building to find Kyle’s recognizable backside and long legs. The rest of him was tucked under the hood of an old black car. On a fender beside him was a thick cloth with an array of tools. Harry sat, sunning on the other fender.

  Pup came running around the car, barking loudly, and planting himself in front of Kyle protectively.

  “Pup, hush.”

  Kyle looked over his shoulder, glanced at Rachel, then went back to work, ignoring her. Harry leaped off the fender and ran deep into a neat street like arrangement of old cars.

  “Harry!” she called desperately.

  After a half hour of calling and chasing Harry, who wasn’t going to be caught, Rachel returned to Kyle, who was still bent beneath the hood. “You should have called me right away.”

  “Your cat walked all over my cars, and he dug up some flowers that Patty planted, and he doesn’t know that the sand in the ashtray is for cigarette butts. Clean that out before you leave…. The threads are strippedon the breather—Here, hold this.”

  Rachel looked down at the grimy big round metal part in her hands, and then Kyle was straightening, wiping his hands on a greasy rag and looking down at her with those sky blue eyes. He’d changed, shaved, smelled like soap and male, and her mind stopped as he slowly took in her ponytail, the pink pearl studs in her ears. The lines crinkled beside Kyle’s eyes, his lips curving only slightly. His gaze moved downward to her white sweater, gray slacks, and pink thongs with the plastic flowers. She watched as in slow motion, he bent to kiss her, just a brush of his lips across hers.

  “Hi,” he said softly, watching her. “You changed clothes from this morning and you smell sweet, like flowers. You looked great in that mermaid outfit, riding on back of that convertible when you were Miss Mermaid in the Neptune’s Landing’s parade.”

  The moment clung and warmed and terrified. Then her mind started clicking, adding and comparing dates…. “I was seventeen then, Kyle. You weren’t even in town yet. Did Mallory show you pictures?”

  He looked down to where she was holding the grimy breather protectively against her. “Nope. Just
passing through back then.”

  He eased the breather from her tight fingers and looked down at the twin grease stains on her sweater. “You’d need bigger shells now.”

  She buried any small quiver of softness for Kyle Scanlon. “You are so crude.”

  “It’s true, isn’t it?”

  She let that one drop into the hard-packed, greasy dirt at his boots. “Just how did you come to have my cat? Stole him, did you?”

  He placed the breather on the fender, and leaned back against the car, crossing his arms. “Your cat jumped into my rig. He wasn’t invited, and he seems to like it here. You’ve been calling and chasing him for a half hour. Seems like he comes easily enough to me. What did you do to him anyway? And why did you change clothes?”

  Since she’d had Harry neutered, he didn’t come as easily when she called, his grudge obvious. “I was helping Leon, and—it does not matter why I changed my clothes, Kyle. Harry gets the best cat food and lots of love. He just has his moments, that’s all. That’s quite typical for cats.”

  “Leon—Next time call me. Leon has—private interests you wouldn’t approve of. Stay away from him.” His blue eyes locked onto her lips and darkened. “You liked kissing me. Want to do it again?”

  After that brief moment in her mother’s garage, Rachel’s instincts agreed with Kyle’s assessment of Leon’s “private interests.”

  Kyle’s offer of a kiss lingered on the oil-scented air between them and Rachel wondered what those hard lips would taste like—in a real kiss.

  Then the lines beside Kyle’s eyes crinkled even more, that slight curve of his mouth lifting. “You’re blushing, honey. You know what that does to a man, to know a woman reacts to him, getting all hot and sweet?”