Moon Over Manhattan: Book 2 of the Moon Series

by Graves, Jane

  "That might be a little difficult.”

  “I know, but—“

  “There was a certain birthday party. A bowling alley.” He paused. “A subway ride home that didn’t end well.”

  Carlene froze. "Wow," she said, with a humorless laugh. "She really got to the heart of things, didn't she?"

  “Do you have any clue how much you’ve hurt her?”

  “God, yes! Why do you think I’m trying so hard to apologize?”

  “An apology isn't what she wants.”

  Carlene let out a breath, and her whole body seemed to shrink three inches. “I know that, too. What she wants is a mother. One who doesn't drink. I'm fixing everything this time. I swear I am. No matter what I have to do."

  Brett wasn't sure if he believed that or not. According to Kelsey, Carlene had made that promise so many times over the years that it had totally lost its meaning.

  "That's between you and Kelsey," Brett said.

  "Yes. Of course. I just thought maybe…" Her voice trailed off. “Brett? Have you ever done something you regretted so much that you’d do anything to make it right?”

  The pleading tone in her voice whittled away at the anger he felt on Kelsey's behalf, and he had to remind himself what this woman had done.

  "We all have our regrets," he said. "But I've never hurt anybody like that."

  Another sigh. "I know I have a lot to make up for."

  He wanted to shout, Hell, yes, you do! How could a mother treat her own child like that? But something about the look of utter misery on Carlene's face made him swallow the words before they could make their way out of his mouth.

  "I guess I just want you to know that I'm taking responsibility for everything that happened," Carlene said. "And I'm turning my life around. I won't be touching another drink as long as I live."

  "You need to tell Kelsey that, not me."

  "You saw what happened. She won't even speak to me."

  "There's nothing I can do about that."

  “Brett, please. If you can find it in your heart to do something…say something to her…”

  “I’m sorry. It’s not my place.”

  Carlene nodded sadly, looking at her feet. "You're right. I shouldn't even think about putting you in the middle. I don’t even know why I’m here, really. If Kelsey found out, she’d kill me.” Then she looked up again. “Please don't tell her I talked to you."

  Brett didn't know what to say to that. It felt like a betrayal if he didn't tell Kelsey her mother came by, but in the end, what would her knowing accomplish? It would only upset her all over again.

  "I won't say anything," he told her.

  Carlene nodded. “Just so you know, she has every right to feel the way she does about me. Every right. I know I've probably lost her for good, but I can't stop trying to make it up to her. I'll never stop trying." She tried to say something else, but her voice choked up. She stopped, swallowed hard, and tried again. "Kelsey is all I have."

  Brett knew he should feel nothing for Carlene. After all, every problem she had was one of her own making. But what must it feel like to know you've done something so bad that your own daughter might never forgive you?

  "Well," Carlene said. "I should go."

  Brett opened the door. She started to leave, then turned back. A bittersweet smile crossed her lips, and her eyes glistened. “You seem like a nice guy, Brett. And you seem to really care about her. After all she’s been through, she deserves a man like you. Just be good to her, okay?”

  She walked away, and Brett closed the door behind her. He let out a sigh of frustration, torn between knowing why Kelsey was so against even speaking to her mother, and feeling sorry for Carlene that she'd screwed up her life so much that her only child never wanted to see her again.

  He thought about her name and address on the piece of paper he'd gotten out of the trash. He reached into his pocket and pulled it out, intending to throw it away, because according to Kelsey, the matter was closed.

  He just couldn't do it.

  Carlene seemed so contrite, as if she'd finally hit rock bottom and was ready to claw her way back up. If that were true, Kelsey might eventually have the mother she clearly wanted. He just wished he knew a way to get Kelsey to open her heart one more time. Just one more time to see if her shattered relationship with her mother could take the first step down the road to becoming whole.

  * * *

  On her next day off, Kelsey woke early, tiptoed out of Brett’s bed, threw on his robe, and left his apartment as quietly as she could. She crossed the hall to her place, where she pulled a shopping bag out of her closet. She’d hidden it there so he wouldn’t find it and spoil the surprise, not to mention the fact that she was still a little iffy about surprising him with it at all. After all, her comfort zone was still pretty narrow, and this was going to blast her right out of it.

  She grabbed the sack, emptied the contents out on her bed, and cringed. It was just as horrible as she remembered when she saw it in that shop window. She took off the robe and wiggled into it, hoping it wouldn’t look as bad when it was on her. But when she went to the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror, that hope was dashed.

  The pink was horrible. If there was ever a color that was wrong for her, this was the one. But it wasn’t just the color. It was the fit. It shoved her breasts upward, giving her cleavage she didn't even know she had. But that was only because it too small. Way too small, making parts of her squish in directions they weren't used to squishing. The salesgirl had assured her it would fit her perfectly. Wrong. Just the fact that she’d discussed wearing such a garment with another human being had been humiliation enough for one day, and now she was going to wear it in front of Brett?

  This was never going to work. He was going to take one look at her, see what a mistake he'd made by suggesting how hot she’d look in it, and then throw a blanket over her so he wouldn't go blind from looking at her.

  No. Stop being so damned uptight. It's now or never. Do it!

  She put Brett’s robe back on. She went back to his apartment and walked quietly into the bedroom where he was still sleeping, her heart beating wildly. She cleared her throat, trying to wake him up. She didn’t get his attention, but she did get Boomer’s. He rose and walked over to her, wagging his big, bushy tail.

  “Go lie back down!” she whispered.

  He just looked up at her, panting happily.

  “Go!” she whispered again, pointing to the corner of the room. Unfortunately, Boomer didn’t look the direction she pointed. He looked at her hand.

  Finally she grabbed him by the collar to lead him out of the room. As she passed through the doorway, she decided this whole plan was terribly misguided. She was going to take this ridiculous thing off, return it, and never even think about doing something like this again.

  “Kelsey?”

  She spun around to see Brett’s eyes fluttering sleepily.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, then looked more closely. “Better question. What are you wearing?”

  She looked down and realized the robe had fallen open, and the thing was exposed.

  Oh, what the hell. She’d come this far. Might as well graduate from looking a little foolish to looking really foolish. She took a deep breath and loosened the sash of the robe. She pushed it off her shoulders, letting it fall in a heap behind her.

  So there she was. Standing in front of Brett wearing something that looked like a bad Halloween costume. She was going as Slutwoman.

  His sleepy eyes slowly widened. "Holy crap. You actually bought it?"

  She frowned. “Yes, Brett. I clearly lost my mind.”

  “If that’s true, then I hope you never find it.” He sat up and leaned against the headboard, eyeing her up and down. “Okay, babe. Show me what you got.”

  Kelsey crinkled her face. “What does that mean?”

  “Take it off.”

  15

  "Uh…excuse me?” Kelsey said.

  Brett tilt
ed his head admiringly. "Take it off. Very, very slowly."

  It actually took her a few seconds to get his meaning. “You want me to strip?”

  “You have to get naked sooner or later."

  "Hey, I put the stupid thing on. What more do you want?"

  "To watch it come off."

  She rolled her eyes.

  "Come on, Kelsey. Where sex is concerned, have I ever wanted you to do anything that didn’t feel good?”

  “Well…no.”

  “Embarrassed you in any way?”

  “Yes. About a million times.”

  “Then there’s no problem. You have experience feeling awkward and self‑conscious.”

  She put her fists on her hips. “I guess you're just like every other man on the planet.”

  “How so?”

  “You’re turned on by visual stimulation.”

  “No argument there.” He looked her up and down with a gaze so hot it practically singed her. “So stimulate me.”

  “So it's all about body parts?" she asked. "Are you seriously that shallow?”

  “So there's nothing about my body you're fixated on?”

  Was there anything about his body she wasn't fixated on? Whoever said women didn't get turned on by visual stimulation was a big, fat liar. She could look at him first thing in the morning when his hair was smooshed into a goofy Mohawk and he had pillow creases all over his face, and she still wanted to make love with him right then and there.

  "I'm getting impatient," Brett said. "And impatience is not one of my finer qualities."

  She tried to decide if he was just teasing her, but even at this distance, she could see his pupils, and they were huge. But she still had the feeling that somehow the joke would be on her. Suddenly she felt hot and squishy between her legs. What was it about this man that turned her on so damned much?

  Okay, fine. She’d play the game. She reached up and flicked open the first button.

  “That’s right,” he said, relaxing against the headboard. “You can do it. Just one button at a time.”

  “Need some popcorn?” she asked.

  “Nope. This isn't the kind of show you snack through. The last thing I want is to have my mouth full of something besides you.”

  She flicked open another button. Then another. She wasn't really doing this, was she? Stripping? Weirdly enough, with every button she unfastened, she felt progressively stronger. More powerful. He was actually getting off on this.

  She took a deep breath, pulled the bodice aside, and freed one breast, then the other. Brett tilted his head and touched his tongue to his bottom lip, as if she'd shown him a six pack of beer and a plate of wings and he was dying to dig in.

  “Come here,” he said, in a deep, husky voice.

  As she walked over to stand in front of him, he swung his feet around and sat up on the edge of the bed.

  “Closer.”

  She stood right next to his knees. He held out his hands. “Closer.”

  She took his hands and he pulled her gently toward him, forcing her to put a knee on the bed next to his thigh to keep from toppling over. And there was only one place for her other knee to go. Beside his other thigh. All at once she was straddling his lap, her breasts inches from his face, feeling like a stripper in a sleazy nightclub.

  “So what now?” she said, trying to act nonchalant. “Dollar bills?”

  “Fresh out of dollar bills,” he said. “I’ll have to pay you another way.”

  Brett put his hands on the outsides of her breasts and pressed them together gently. Then he leaned in and touched his tongue to one nipple, swirling it around. Her hands found their way to his shoulders, where she rested them as he licked and sucked her rock-hard nipples. She squeezed her eyes closed, her fingers digging into his shoulders, until she throbbed like a rain‑swollen river pounding against a dam. She felt wound so tightly she was afraid she was going to snap like a gigantic rubber band.

  “Lap dance,” she said breathlessly. “You’re not supposed…to touch…the girls…"

  “You’re my girl,” he said, his breath hot against her nipple. “I can touch you all I want to.”

  My girl, my girl, my girl…

  The words echoed over and over inside her head. Even though she truly believed he didn't care if she wore a gunny sack, the intensity of his gaze made her want to buy silk and satin and a fluffy pink feather boa and four-inch heels. Stupid girly stuff that would make her feel sexy even if all he really wanted was to see her naked.

  A moment later, he eased her down on the bed, removed the thing, and made love to her slowly and completely, forcing her to experience every moment as if it was singular and special. And it was. Kelsey felt as if she was in a dream, as if she was seeing everything through a soft-focus lens. When he finally slid inside her, she gasped with pleasure, lifting her hips to take more of him, urging him to go faster, wanting to feel the same blinding speed they’d made love with so many times before. Instead, Brett stayed deep inside her for a moment, then eased out, then thrust inside again. Slowly. She groaned with frustration.

  “Open your eyes,” he whispered.

  She blinked, then opened her eyes to stare up at him. With every tantalizing, deep stroke, he watched her face. It felt so shockingly personal that she finally turned away, but he whispered her name and she turned back. An undulating pressure built up inside her, teasing, taunting, until a tidal wave of indescribable sensation washed over her. As she came, Brett picked up the pace, and seconds later, he let out a harsh groan of pleasure that reverberated between his body and hers.

  Moments later, he fell to his side on the bed and pulled her against him, stroking her hair, kissing her forehead. She’d never felt anything like this. It was as if there was another person locked inside her, dying to get out, and Brett was the only one with the key. When she was with him, she felt free in a way she never had before. It took a while for her to finally breathe normally again.

  “Remember when you threw my clothes out the window?” she said.

  “How could I forget?”

  She nodded toward the thing lying on the floor beside the bed. “I’m giving you permission to do it again.”

  “No way. You’re wearing that every night.”

  “Oh, God,” she moaned. “What have I done?”

  “You’ve played to my baser instincts. There’s no going back now.”

  Kelsey smiled to herself. Oddly enough, in spite of her protests, she wasn’t sure she wanted to go back.

  “I was talking to my brother last night," Brett said. “He and his wife want me to come over this weekend. They’re cooking out.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “They’ve invited you, too.”

  Kelsey froze. “Me? Why?”

  Brett sighed. “No offense, Kelsey, but for a smart woman, sometimes you ask the dumbest questions. Now, will you come or not?”

  He was talking as if this was no big deal. But it was a big deal. A very, very big deal.

  “Where do they live?” she asked, even though she knew.

  “North White Plains. Only forty minutes by train."

  “Are you sure you want me to come?”

  “Of course. My brother told me to invite you.”

  Kelsey froze. “You told your brother about me?”

  “Is that so strange?”

  She’d never considered that Brett might actually be talking about her to other people as if the two of them were a couple. And his family, no less. She’d seen them all on Facebook, and she had no doubt that being in the midst of Brett’s happy, rowdy family would be as foreign to her as being dropped on Mars.

  She wanted to tell Brett she had other plans. Or that she got sick if she had to be on the train that long. Something. Anything. But he always seemed to know if she was lying or deluding herself, so why even try it?

  She took a deep, silent breath. "Okay. I'll come. What day?"

  "Sunday. I need to get back to Gianelli's before the evening crowd,
but that will still give us three or four hours to visit.”

  “Three or four hours?” She forced a smile. "Sounds great."

  He smiled. "You're going to love my family."

  She had no doubt about that. The question was, would they love her?

  * * *

  The next evening at Gianelli's, Kelsey sat at the bar with Angi, getting her first glimpse of Brett running the place. He maneuvered from the bar to the front door to the kitchen with apparent ease, and he had a smile for everyone. She remembered when she was a rookie cop, one of the old-timers told her that even if she was scared to death, she should never let anyone see her sweat. Brett didn't look as if he was sweating, so she took that as a good thing.

  “Everything looks as if it’s running smoothly,” Kelsey told him, when he dropped by to say hi.

  “It is,” Brett said, his chest rising and falling with a deep, calming breath. “But if feels different when it’s completely my responsibility.”

  “Any problems so far?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  Just then Paul swung by the bar to drop off an order. “Hello, ladies.”

  ‘Hi,” Angi said with a smile. “How late are you working this evening?”

  “Ten o’clock,” he said, giving Brett a sidelong glance. “Unless my boss sees fit to let me go a few minutes early.”

  Kelsey looked at Brett, whose congenial smile had fallen into a frown. “Let’s see how the crowd is as it gets closer to ten, okay?”

  “Sure, boss,” Paul said offhandedly.

  Brett glanced toward the door, then looked back at Paul. "So, Paul. Tell me how your ex-wife is doing."

  "How would I know?" Paul said, grabbing a stack of cocktail napkins for his tray.

  "So you're finally over her?"

  He made a scoffing noise. "I never wasn't over her."

  "Good. Because she just walked through the door."

  Paul rolled his eyes. "Right. Like I'm going to fall for that again?"

  "No, Paul," Angi said. "She's really here."

  Kelsey turned to see a tall brunette woman standing at the entrance to the bar, her gaze slowly panning from one side of the room to the other. She wore a body-hugging dress that showcased every hill and valley and so much costume jewelry Kelsey was surprised she could still stand up. She zeroed in on Paul for a count of three, staring at him with the intensity of a missile locked onto its target, then turned away dismissively. Paul looked as if he was choking to death.