“Don’t worry. Just a kiss between friends.”
Her gaze settled on her shoes.
“I’m not going to get a punch in the nose when your husband returns, am I?”
“Johnny’s never been the jealous type.”
“Good night,” he said, quickly descending the steps and getting into his car.
“Thanks for dinner,” she called after him.
He waved before shutting the truck door.
Tunney berated himself. What are you doing? Five years ago, Susan left you at the altar for her acting coach…now you’re setting yourself up with another woman who isn’t available. Who do you think she’ll choose you or her husband…idiot! This is crazy. I’ve got to stop.
But he couldn’t get Kit out of his mind. With her living in his mother’s house there’d be no escaping. Every time he was near her, his libido kicked into high gear. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip as he pulled into his driveway. She kissed me back…I know it. What does that mean? He was on his way to becoming a home wrecker, and he didn’t like the feeling.
* * * *
Kit climbed the stairs to her bedroom trying not to think about Tunney’s kiss. She ran her finger over her top lip, remembering his soft presence there, how good his lips felt. What have I done? I’ve lied to him. Now I have to stay away from him. He’ll hate me if he finds out the truth. Oh, God. Tomorrow!
The tinkle of her cell phone startled her. She stared at the screen. Sarah, thank God.
“How’s the renovating coming?”
“Tunney kissed me tonight,” Kit blurted out.
“What?”
“He took me to dinner. At the door we were saying goodnight…he kissed me. Then he apologized!”
“Oh, my. He’s got it bad.” Sarah chuckled.
“What am I going to do?”
“Find a way to enjoy.”
“How can I? He thinks I’m married.”
“You’d better find a way to get unmarried, fast. He sounds interesting.”
“He is,” she said, climbing the last two steps to the second floor.
“Sounds like the renovating is coming along,” Sarah laughed.
“What a mess.”
“You’ll figure it out.”
“I’m going to bed.”
“Goodnight, good luck.”
“Thanks, Sarah.”
Kit went into her room, changed and slid into bed after adding a warmer blanket. She fell asleep quickly but awoke several times during the night wishing ghosts had been her biggest worry.
* * * *
Two weeks into September. At 29 James Street
Sarah put down the telephone. School began calmly in early September. Both children seemed to be adjusting well to the new school. Until now.
“Scottie, can you come in here for a minute, please,” she called, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice.
“What, Mom?” Scottie called from his room.
“Just come in here.” Irritation broke through.
The doorbell rang. Sarah wiped her hands on her apron as she opened the door to let Jim in. He stepped inside and kissed her.
“You look like a storm cloud on the move. What’s up?” He headed for the kitchen with two bags of groceries tucked under his arms.
Scottie joined them in the living room. Sarah sat him down on the sofa, ignoring Jim. He took the groceries into the kitchen to put them on the table.
“I just got a call from your school principal. You were fighting in the yard. Now I have to go in to explain why. So what is this about? You were fighting? Why?”
“Yeah, Mom. There were some bullies there, like at camp. But Jim got me some lessons. Now I can fight back. So they’ll leave me alone. No biggie, Mom.”
The boy arose from the sofa. Sarah put her hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down. When Jim entered the living room, she turned to look at him.
“You did what?”
“It’s not Scottie’s fault,” he said, looking sheepish.
The youngster slipped out of the living room to return to his room.
“Fighting lessons? What’s this about?”
“He told me about some bullies at camp. So I took him to meet one of my professors, Danny Maine, ex-military guy. He showed Scottie a few moves to defend himself and…”
“And you were going to tell me about this…when? You were going to ask my permission to teach my kid how to fight…when?” She asked him her voice getting louder.
“Every boy has to face these things, Sarah…not a big deal…”
“It’s a big deal to me.”
“I talked to Scottie…”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” She rested her hands on her hips.
“He asked me not to.”
“Oh, I see. So he comes before me? He’s my responsibility, not yours.”
“I know. I had no idea this would get out of hand. I thought if he could defend himself…”
“You thought? Who are you to think about Scottie? He is my son, not yours,” She shouted.
“Sarah…I didn’t mean to…I was only trying to help…” Jim said, raising his voice.
The sound of loud voices broke the quiet in the house. Laura opened her door, then stopped at her brother’s room, motioning him to come with her. He followed his sister out to the living room. Sarah continued yelling at Jim, who increased his volume to be heard. Laura and Scottie got between the couple to form a wall. Scottie raised his fisted hands at Jim.
“Don’t hurt my mother!” he yelled.
Jim was taken aback. He stared at the children, glancing from Laura to Scottie, then to Sarah. His expression changed from exasperation to surprise.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
Silence greeted his question. He continued to move his gaze from one angry face to another, then he focused on Sarah. Color crept up her neck.
“Did someone hurt you?” he asked gently.
Sarah couldn’t speak. Tears welled in her eyes. She nodded.
“Did Bob hit you?” Jim asked, understanding lighting up in his eyes.
“Yes.” Tears threatened to spill onto her cheeks, her hands rested on the children’s shoulders.
He knelt down to eye level with Scottie.
“I’d never hit your mother. I’ve never hit a woman in my life. I wouldn’t now,” he said quietly.
“That’s what he said,” Scottie replied.
“You must believe me. We were having a loud discussion. No matter how mad I’d ever get, I’d never raise a hand to your mom.” He looked at Laura.
Scottie looked hard at Jim, then at his mother, who smiled at him. The boy looked relieved.
“I believe him,” he said, turning to face his sister who stood behind him.
Laura relaxed.
“It’s okay, kids. I was yelling at Jim. He wasn’t even mad, only trying to be heard. Everything’s all right,” Sarah said, her breathing returning to normal, the red draining out of her face.
She hugged the children before they returned to their rooms. Sarah avoided Jim’s eyes as she turned to go to the kitchen. He stepped forward quickly, blocking her retreat, took her shoulders and turned her around.
“Did he hit you…often?” Jim asked his eyes warm with sympathy.
“Twice.”
“Twice?”
“After the first time, he apologized profusely…said he wouldn’t do it again. But when he did, I knew he’d lied…he’d keep hitting me. I had to save myself, so I took the children and left.”
“Oh, Sarah! Did he hurt you badly?” He surrounded her with his arms.
“The first time, bruises, a black eye. But the second time he broke two ribs,” she said, letting out a sigh.
“Oh my God. That’s where the scar on your hand comes from?”
She nodded, her eyes filling with tears again.
“He swung a knife at me. You were right. I held up my hand to defend myself.”
Jim held her. “I’d never
hurt you, Sarah. I hope you believe me.”
“You’re not Bob. I’m not afraid of you,” she said, closing her eyes, enjoying the male scent of him mixed with a soapy aroma and clean shirt smell.
“I’m sorry about Scottie. I should’ve discussed my plans with you, but I felt caught in the middle since he asked me not to tell you. I wanted to win his trust…as well as yours.”
“I understand. Still, having him trained to fight, he needs to know how to use his new power, not become a bully himself. I’ll talk to him.”
“We shouldn’t assume he was in the wrong,” Jim said, releasing her.
“You’re right, we shouldn’t. Thank you for caring about him and stepping in to help…even if you should’ve told me,” she said.
“Just because I don’t have children, doesn’t mean I don’t want them,” he said, looking at her with heat in his eyes. “I’m hungry…but not for dinner,” he said, nibbling on her neck, winding his arms around her waist.
She turned to receive his kiss, relaxing her body against his. He deepened the kiss, putting his hand in her soft hair to angle her mouth. Sarah lost herself in his embrace, desire pulsing in her veins.
“Mom, Monica called. Can I go over there for…” Laura said as she rounded the bend. She stopped abruptly when she saw Sarah and Jim locked in a passionate embrace.
Sarah jumped back, embarrassed.
“…dinner,” Laura finished, looking at her mom with interest.
“Laura, I’m…this isn’t what you…”
“So what? So you and Jim were…were…whatever. I know he’s your boyfriend, no biggie. Can I go to Monica’s?”
“Tonight? For dinner? Sure. Do you need a ride?”
“I’ll take my bike. See ya,” Laura said, already texting Monica while heading toward the front door.
“Be home by eight thirty,” She called after her daughter.
“So much for worrying about the kids walking in on us.” Jim chuckled as he ran his hand down Sarah’s hair.
“I guess having a self-involved teenager isn’t so bad after all,” Sarah said, smiling.
Chapter Eight
In the morning at the Old Victorian
Kit got up with the alarm at eight o’clock. She ate a quick breakfast then made a list of what she needed to buy at the superstore.
1 man’s suit
2 pairs of men’s casual pants
3 jeans
2 button down shirts
5 boxers
5 undershirts
5 pairs of socks
5 tee shirts
1 belt
It was already nine o’clock by the time she got in the car. When Kit turned the key, the vehicle only wheezed. She tried again, hearing a whine but no hum of a running motor. Pumping the gas pedal, then trying again, and again didn’t help. She waited five minutes, feeling her pulse race as time passed. If the car didn’t start, she’d be trapped. Tunney would want an explanation.
Praying for the motor to turn over on the next turn of the key, she thought about what he might say if he found out she wasn’t married. The word “liar” came to mind. Next “dishonest”, “untrustworthy”…then the worst of all, “faker”…she covered her eyes with her hand for the last epithet, “fraud”. Tears pricked at the thought of him slapping him with those words. But she’d deserve his wrath, having no defense. Please start, car, please. Kit took a breath, held it then turned the key. There was a steady hum. Now nine-thirty, time pressure made adrenaline pump through her system. Gotta get those clothes and get back.
Once at the store, she raced through, ignoring sizes and colors, she grabbed everything on her list. When a saleswoman offered to help, Kit shook her head, practically running to the checkout counter. Her foot tapped nervously until she was called to the register. She flew to the parking lot, threw the bags of clothes in the trunk and sped home.
As it was already eleven-thirty, Kit worried Tunney might be early. Checking first for any sign of his truck, she opened the trunk, snatched the three big bags and disappeared into the house. Once behind the front door, she breathed a sigh of relief, until Tunney’s truck pulled up. Panicking, she raced up the stairs, into the twin bedroom. She yanked everything out of the bags, throwing the suit, pants and shirts on the bed next to her clothes. Then she stuffed the underwear, tee shirts and socks into dresser drawers.
Although he had a key, Tunney knocked. She raced downstairs, out of breath, taking a few seconds to compose herself before opening up. He looked at her with a question in his eyes.
“Just how fast did you come down those stairs?”
“Oh, this,” trying to catch her breath, “I was running.”
Well, she was running, running up the stairs to get the clothes in place before he came in.
“Oh. I didn’t know you run.”
“Not every day,” she panted, “only…when I need to.”
“I’ve never heard running referred to as need to, you know? I like to run, too. Maybe we could jog together some time.”
“Sure, sure.”
“Let’s get started,” he said, climbing the stairs with a bucket of supplies in one hand and a step ladder in the other.
“I thought you’d send your men to do this.” Kit chewed her lip.
“Everyone’s booked. Besides, this is now my house. I’m very particular about the way things are done.”
After the kiss last night, she guessed he chose to be there, with her, rather than send his men. She’d checked him out on the Internet. Tunney had built his father’s company up to ten times the size it had been. He was the president, a multi-millionaire not only from Nichols Building but also from Things to Come, his Internet Company in Seattle. So why would he be painting the closet if not to be with her? She followed him up the stairs murmuring grunts of agreement while a smile played with her lips.
Kit slipped into the twin bedroom to rip the tags off the new clothes while Tunney dropped the materials in her bedroom.
“I like what you’ve done with this room,” he called out.
The new bedspread with a small flower print in yellow, blue and green on white matched the curtains. Throw pillows in each color were placed artfully on the bed.
She joined him. He shone a flashlight on the closet ceiling.
“There might be water damage here requiring more extensive renovation than I thought. We’ll have to look upstairs for a leak.”
“Do I need to move into the master bedroom?”
“You do,” he said, looking at the bed, then at her.
Kit blushed when she realized they were standing within two feet of each other in her bedroom. She moved away half afraid of his desires, half afraid of her own.
“Does the fireplace downstairs work?”
“I’ll show you how to light the fire. The one in the master bedroom used to work. Let me check it out first. So great on cold nights, getting into bed with a fire blazing,” he said.
I’ll bet you can show me a lot about starting a fire. She hid a grin.
His gaze roamed over her body from head to toe, kicking up her pulse. “I’ll move my things into the master bedroom, so I won’t be in your way.” Kit said, opening a drawer to grab an armful of lingerie. A few garments slipped out of her grasp, landing at his feet. He bent down to pick up a pair of pink lace panties and a black lace bra. She snatched them out of his hand, feeling heat rise to her cheeks as she tucked them away from sight.
He chuckled. “Do you wear those…those…”
“Panties. Of course.” She huffed, turning away to hide her embarrassment.
“Wow, amazing,” he murmured to himself but was overheard.
“What’s amazing?”
Now he blushed.
“I…uh…just…I mean you…in those…wow.”
She laughed while heading for the other room.
“Don’t forget your husband’s stuff,” he said, turning his attention away from her frilly things. Kit stopped, the smile fell off her face. My husba
nd’s stuff. Thank God there was men’s underwear in those drawers. She took the socks and boxers out so he could see them then stuffed them under her arm.
Kit stripped her bed, took the sheets, blankets, pillows and bedspread into the master bedroom. While folding hospital corners in the sheets, her mind wandered to thoughts of Tunney. What would he look like, tucked into her bed, lit only by the light from the fireplace, naked, the sheet pulled up to his waist, waiting for her. Kit shook her head to clear his image from her mind. She wanted him, but would have to let him go. To Tunney, she was married. Too bad, but it had already been decided.
When he approached her, the electricity fairly crackled…the air so charged with sexual energy she could barely breathe. He smiled his sexy lopsided grin and his eyes glittered when he looked at her.
* * * *
Kit followed the directions Tunney gave her. She landed at the Nichols Building without getting lost once. The building, beautifully designed and immaculate, impressed her. Painted in neutral colors outside and in gave her a hint as to how ingrained neutral colors were with him. When she went inside an attractive redhead sat behind the front desk.
“You must be Anne Marie,” Kit said.
“Yes, who are you?” She could feel the redhead’s gaze looking her up and down.
“I’m Kit Alexander. I’m here to pick up some supplies Tunney left?”
“Oh, yes. Wait a sec; I’ll have Jeremy load them into your truck.”
“I don’t have a truck. Just a car.”
“No problem, everything should fit,” she said, picking up the phone to announce over a building-wide intercom a request for Jeremy. Anne Marie’s gaze traveled over Kit’s slender build, not missing her curves, emphasized by her shorts and tank top. Then her green eyes took in Kit’s silky hair falling close to a pair of big blue eyes. The green eyes got darker.
Now and Forever 4, The Renovated Heart Page 7