The Trouble With Valentine's Day

by Rachel Gibson

  "More dignified?"

  "Dignified? Yeah, that's a good word. Getting shot takes away your dignity. You wake up in a hospital bed with tubes stuck in your stomach and… other places. You're weak and helpless and everything about it sucks."

  Kate imagined that to any man, being weak and helpless would be hard. But to a guy like Rob, used to hammering opponents into submission, it must have been extremely difficult.

  "Then when you finally do get on your feet again, your whole life is different. No job. No wife. No nothing, except the sordid details on the Internet for everyone to read." He pulled a sewing needle from a package and snipped off the eye. "No love life either."

  She didn't think he was talking about the falling-in-love kind of love life. She knew firsthand, so to speak, that he was physically capable of having sex. He wasn't married, although that obviously hadn't hampered him in the past. "How long since you've had a love life?"

  He looked at her. "Are you asking how long it's been since I've had sex?"

  They both knew she was, so why deny it? "Yeah."

  One corner of his mouth turned down in a frown. "Never mind."

  "Six months?"

  He turned away.

  "One year?" She knew from interviewing a lot of people over the years that most often the answer was found in what wasn't said.

  "Drop it, Kate."

  "Two years?"

  He set down the needle and turned to face her. "You seem awfully interested in my sex life."

  "You brought it up." She shrugged. "And I don't know if I'm 'awfully interested.' I'd call it a mild curiosity."

  "What exactly are you curious about?" He took a step toward her. "How long it's been? Or how good it would be between us?" His lids lowered a fraction over his eyes. "I gotta admit that I'm curious about that myself."

  She took a step back. "You and I having sex together is a very bad idea."

  "You've already said that." He took a step forward.

  She stuck her hand out like a traffic cop. "Stop. We can't have sex."

  "Sure we can. We're both over twenty-one and neither of us is crazy. I want you and I know you want me. You wanted me the first night we met, and I'm thinking I was an idiot not to drag you up to my room."

  There were several very good reasons that had nothing to do with age. One of which she gave. "That's why I can't have sex with you."

  He took a determined step toward her, and her palm flattened against the front of his shirt. "Are you still mad that I didn't drag you up to my room?"

  She shook her head and her hair brushed her shoulders. "I can't have sex with you because I know you now."

  "But you could have sex with me when you didn't know me?" He grabbed her wrist. "That doesn't make sense."

  "Yes it does." She looked into his eyes and tried to explain. "That night in Sun Valley, you were supposed to be part of my fantasy. My fantasy of picking up a stranger in a bar. I was supposed to use and abuse you and kick you out."

  "You still can."

  "No. You're real now." She tried to pull free, but he didn't let go. "You killed all my fantasies."

  "I'll give you a new fantasy. God knows I have hundreds." He raised her hand to his mouth. "Do you want to hear one?" he asked against her palm, but he didn't wait for her answer. "My favorite involves you wearing your black dominatrix boots."

  She stopped trying to pull away. He fantasized about her? No man had ever admitted that he fantasized about her. Her. Kate Hamilton and her size ten boots. She felt herself weaken. Almost give in. She should leave. Run away. Fast. And she would. But she hadn't been able to work up a good fantasy of her own for a while now. It seemed only right that he should share his. "What else am I wearing?"

  "Nothing."

  "What are you wearing?"

  "A hard-on and a smile."

  She didn't know if she should laugh or pretend outrage. He looked serious except for the teasing laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. "Where does the fantasy take place?"

  "In my bed." He placed her palm on the side of his neck and slid his hand to her waist. "On my pool table." He pulled her so close that her breasts touched the front of his shirt. "My car." The teasing lines at the corners of his eyes disappeared by the time he added, "Right here. Anywhere I happen to be standing," he lowered his mouth and said just above her lips.

  "You star in every one of my fantasies." He kissed her, a gentle caress of lips and tongue in stark contrast to the hard, fast beating of her heart.

  Kate slipped her hand to the back of his neck and leaned into him, the weight of her breasts pressed into his chest. Her nipples tightened. She wanted this. This hot liquid pumping through her veins and pooling between her legs. Making her feel wanted and needed, her skin buzzing with sexual need. It was wrong. He was bad for her. But… it had been a long time since a man had wanted her anywhere he happened to be standing. A long time since she'd felt the heavy pull of desire take over and shut out the pessimist in her head.

  She fed him a deep, hot kiss that had him groaning into her mouth. He tasted a little of granola, of need and sex. He cupped her breast through her sweater, and she arched against his rock-hard penis, feeling the heavy length of him pressed into her lower abdomen.

  His free hand grabbed her behind, and he pulled her up onto her toes. He pushed himself against the apex of her thighs as his thumb brushed across her hard nipples. Back and forth, an unhurried rhythm in perfect time to his erection he rubbed against her crotch. A maddening, frustrated, moan escaped her throat as she threaded her fingers in the back of his hair.

  The ringing of the bells on the door barely penetrated the sounds of heavy breathing in the loft.

  "Mr. Sutter?"

  Rob straightened, and his hand dropped from her behind. He looked toward the front of the store as the sound of two young voices rose from below.

  "Are you here?"

  "Shit." Rob removed his other hand from Kate's breast and looked at his watch. "I forgot I told those two boys to come on by." He returned his attention to Kate. His gaze filled with lust and hunger. "Give me a few minutes, and I'll be right down," he called out, his voice rough.

  "Okay."

  "Stay here and wait for me, Kate. I won't be gone long."

  She took a deep breath, and her sanity partially returned. At least enough to allow her to take a step back. "No."

  He reached for her, but she moved, and his hand grasped empty air. She kept on moving before he could touch her and make her change her mind. Before he could make her forget that he was just heartache number twenty-six. The latest on the long list of men that were bad for her. That wasn't her inner pessimist talking, either. It was the truth.

  Just before she reached the doorway he called out, "You can't say no forever, Kate Hamilton. Someday I'm going to make you say yes."

  She didn't dare stop. She moved down the stairs and through the store. With her hand on the front door handle, she paused and looked back over her shoulder. He stood in the loft, his hands gripping the railing.

  "Someday real soon," he said.

  Rob whistled to "Sex Type Thing" as he twisted hare's mask dubbing and tan thread into a long thin strand. He attached the bobbin to one end, then wound the dubbing around the shank of a three-inch hook clamped in a vise. Several fluffy strands of dubbing landed on the knee of his jeans, then drifted to the toe of his white sock.

  As Scott Weiland sang about being a man who could give a woman something she wouldn't forget, a smile lifted the corners of Rob's mouth. Kate didn't think sex was a good idea, but she was just plain wrong. That afternoon, he'd given her fair warning that he was going to make her change her mind. He'd been serious. He was going to give her something she wouldn't forget.

  He wound the thread and dubbing to the eye of the hook, then spun the bobbin and loosened the stand. During a pause in the music, the clock on the mantel in his living room downstairs chimed ten times. He wanted Kate. She wanted him. She wasn't crazy. It was inevitable.

&
nbsp; Both times he'd kissed her, she'd kissed him back like she was never going to stop. Earlier, she'd melted against him, so hot his hair had about caught fire. He'd touched her breast and thrust his hard-on into her, and if those boys hadn't come into the store, he would have had her naked and up against the wall before she'd known what hit her.

  The bobbin swayed as he stripped the excess dubbing from the thread. He turned in his chair and selected a gold-and-black hackle feather from his assorted trays of feathers and fur. He stripped the barbs, then secured the stem to the hook shank with three tight wraps of his thread.

  Other than wanting Kate on her back and in his bed, he didn't know how he felt about her. She was stubborn and competitive and had a smart mouth, but he didn't mind those qualities in a woman.

  He clamped a pair of hackle pliers on the tip of the feather and wound it toward the bend in the hook. By rote, his hands passed the pliers back and forth as he wound the feather over and under the shank.

  Kate was competent and believed she could damn well take care of herself. Some men didn't like that about her, but he didn't mind those qualities either. In fact, he didn't care for clinging, needy women.

  At the bend in the hook, he tied down the hackle feather with wire, then wound it up the shank toward the eye. Kate was smart and beautiful and sexy. Most important, she wasn't a psycho.

  The cordless telephone sitting next to his elbow rang. He glanced at the caller ID and hit the mute on his stereo. He pressed the connect button on the phone and said, "Hey, Lou. What's up?"

  "Well, I've been thinking," his ex-wife began.

  "About?"

  "About our conversation the other night, and I didn't want you to think I was mad about Easter."

  He released the pliers and set them on the workbench. "Amelia is young enough that she won't remember, and besides, it's not your weekend anyway."

  A suddenly reasonable Louisa worried him. "Are you dating someone?" The last time she'd been this pleasant had been the time she'd been in love with a Boeing executive. She'd wanted Rob to stay with the baby while she flew off to Cancun with her new man, which he'd been happy to do. Her relationship with the exec had ended last fall, before she'd started dropping hints of a reconciliation.

  "No," she answered. "I'm not dating anymore."

  Rob stood and moved his head from side to side. "Why not?"

  "Because I think you and I should give our relationship another try. We're older and wiser now. We have Amelia's future to think about."

  There it was. Right out in the open now, and he could no longer ignore it. "Why are you bringing this up now, over the phone? I'm going to be there in a few days."

  "I didn't want to hit you with it when you walked in the door. I wanted you to think about it before you got here." She took a deep breath and let it out. "We can make it work this time, Rob."

  He walked from the room and turned off the light behind him. "We talked about this when I moved to Gospel. You wouldn't be happy living here, and I'm not happy living in Seattle."

  "We can work something out."

  He entered his bedroom and walked past the entertainment center to the big window. "You'd hate it here. No Nordstrom, or jazz clubs, or dinner at The Four Seasons." He looked out at the dark shores of Fish Hook Lake and added, "The closest movie theater is an hour away."

  Silence stretched across the distance and he didn't think there was anything she could say to make him consider a reconciliation. They'd screwed it up too many times in the past. "Amelia misses you."

  Except that. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cool glass, "What's she doing?"

  "She's asleep."

  He hadn't been there to put her to bed. He loved when she fell asleep in his arms and he carried her to the crib he'd converted into a little bed. Guilt ate him up inside, but he reminded himself that he would miss putting her to bed every night even if he lived full time in his loft in Seattle.

  "I think we can work it out and be a family. Will you think about it?"

  A family. They'd never really been a family. He loved his daughter, and at one time, he'd loved Louisa. The idea of a happy family life held a lot of appeal for him. He was often lonely, but the key word was happy. Could he and Louisa be happy together? He didn't know. "I'll think about it," he said.

  After he pressed disconnect, he tossed the phone on a chair to his left. He scrubbed his face with his hands and looked out at the lake. The wind had picked up in the last few hours and blew black ripples across the surface.

  He thought of his ex-wife, pictured her gorgeous face and killer body. At one time she'd seemed like the ideal woman. The perfect balance of natural beauty and expensive grooming. And she wanted to try and live together again. Problem was, when he was around her gorgeous face and killer body, there was no urgency to grab her up and bury his nose in her neck. There was no twist and pull of desire that made him want to run his hands all over her.

  Kate made him feel those things. He wanted her like a man should want a woman. She made him feel the biting, animalistic urge to pick her up, throw her down, and get on with it. The kind of urge that a man should feel for an ex-wife he was thinking about getting back together with. But was desire, or lack of desire, a reason to reject the notion out of hand? Wasn't there more to a good relationship than sex? When he and Louisa had been married, the sex had been good but everything else had pretty much sucked. So if everything but the sex was good in a relationship, could it work?

  The more Rob thought about it, the more confused he got. His temples began to pound, and the longer he let it all tumble around in his mind, the bigger his headache got until he could hardly think at all.

  There was only thing he was real clear about. Until he got it all sorted out in his own mind, he'd have to resist Kate Hamilton.

  He'd learned his lesson about talking reconciliation with one woman while having sex with another. He'd been there and done that, and he didn't need that kind of trouble.

  Thirteen

  Instead of bread, the next morning Kate made something different. It was five days before Easter, so she baked cupcakes and topped them with a thick layer of white frosting. She dyed coconut green for grass and placed tiny hummingbird candy eggs in the coconut grass. As she stuck pipe cleaners in the cupcakes to look like little handles, her thoughts turned to Rob, where they'd been stuck since yesterday.

  You can't say no forever, Kate Hamilton. Someday I'm going to make you say yes, he'd said. Someday real soon.

  His threat worried her. Not on a physical level. She didn't believe for a second that Rob would force her to do anything. She was worried about her attraction to him-worried that if he whispered her skin was like dessert, and that he fantasized about her, she'd get all weak and brain dead-again.

  She knew Rob. She'd dated men just like him. She didn't want yet another bad relationship, but there was a part of her that tended to forget all of that when she was alone with him. The next time he called for a delivery, her grandfather would have to make it.

  Kate placed the last tiny egg on the last cupcake and took a step back to view her work. "Martha Stewart, wherever you are, eat your heart out." By noon, she'd sold all five dozen and had orders for five dozen more.

  At two, while Stanley sat in the back office working on a poem, Regina Cladis came in for a rump roast, a bag of baby carrots, and some red potatoes. "Tiffer's home for a visit, and he loves my roast."

  "How long will he be staying?" Kate asked as she rang up the meat and placed it in a bag.

  "Until the Monday after Easter," she answered and dug around in her big purse.

  "Perhaps you and Tiffer might enjoy a bit of jalapeno jelly."

  Regina looked up and pushed her heavy glasses up the bridge of her short nose. "Jalapeno what?"

  "Jalapefio jelly. It's very good served with cream cheese and spread over crackers. Or you can spread it on bagels."

  "No thanks. I don't eat bagels, and that jelly sounds horrible."

>   "I don't understand why no one in this town will try it." Kate sighed and rang up the carrots.

  "We like our jelly made with fruit," Regina explained. "When I first moved here from out of town, I had a hard time fitting in, too. I was treated like an outsider, just like you."

  Kate wasn't aware that she was being treated like an outsider. "Really?"

  "Yes. Myrtle Lake and me applied for the same job at the library, and when I got it instead of her, there was a big dust up because I wasn't a local. People were all bent out of shape and wouldn't come into the library."

  "Where did you live?"

  "I was born and raised in Challis."

  Challis sounded familiar. "Where's that?"

  "About forty miles north."

  Kate pointed out what she thought was the obvious. "But that's local."

  Regina shook her head and said with an absolutely straight face, "No. It's in the next county."

  Kate was about to ask why a city forty miles north wasn't considered local, but she stopped herself. It was best not to ask too many questions. Especially since you'd get the answers. And the answers were usually followed by a tightening of Kate's forehead and a tick in her left eye. The tightening could cause wrinkles, the tick a tumor, and Kate didn't need to borrow that kind of trouble.

  "Folks did eventually warm up to me though, and they will you. Shoot, Sheriff Taber married a gal from California. If the town can get over that travesty, they'll accept Stanley's granddaughter being from Vegas. 'Course we all go to Sin City occasionally to gamble and see the shows. So that's an easier pill to swallow."

  "What's wrong with California?" Kate asked before she thought better of it.

  "Filled with hippies, potheads, and vegetarians," Regina answered with equal disdain. " 'Course now that Arnold is governor, he'll have that state turned around faster than you can say 'I'll be back.' He has a house in Sun Valley, you know."

  "Yes, I know." Kate's forehead tightened as she hit Total. Wisely, she didn't ask any more questions.

  Rob stuck a folder stuffed with invoices and price quotes under one arm and headed home for the evening. A full moon and an eighty-watt bulb lit up the small lot in back of Sutter Sports. It was a quarter past eleven, and he'd spent the five hours since closing putting together a special rental package for a Boy Scout group planning a camping trip the first week in June. He was leaving in the morning for Seattle, and he wanted the packages finished before he left so he could devote his full attention to his daughter.