Kiss a Girl in the Rain

by Nancy Warren

  His wife sobbed across the table. “It’s our wedding anniversary,” she cried. “Fifty-seven years.”

  Caitlyn didn’t have time to comfort the wife; she was too busy speed dialing the on-call ambulance that would take her patient to the nearest hospital, thirty miles away. But Evan replaced the contents of Mrs. Newson’s bag, leaving the nitro on the table, and restored it to her. “He’s in good hands with Doc Sorenson,” he said. “Is there somebody I can call? Someone who can drive you home?”

  “Oh, yes. My daughter. I should call my daughter.”

  “It’s okay,” another voice chimed in. “I’ll drive you to your daughter’s place. You can use my phone.” As the woman edged past him, Evan turned to Caitlin. “What can I do?”

  She gazed at him with regret. “Nothing, I’m afraid. The ambulance will be here any second. I’ll follow him to the hospital. Get him stabilized.” She smiled. With an audience, there wasn’t anything she could say but, “Thank you for dinner.”

  He nodded, a rueful answering smile lighting his face. Loud enough for anyone in the vicinity to hear, he said, “Thanks again for your help, Doctor Sorenson. I’ll see you around.”

  She forced herself not to watch as he turned and headed for the door.

  Sometimes being a country doctor sucked. Big time.

  Chapter Eight

  When Evan returned to his motel room, with the biggest case of frustrated horny he’d endured since eleventh grade, he found a sad dog staring at him with reproachful eyes. “How could you leave me?” was written large. However, as soon as he pulled the leash off the hook where he’d hung it, all was forgiven and his unwanted roomie jumped all over him.

  “Okay, okay. Come on. Believe me, my evening didn’t go the way I wanted it to, either.”

  Out they went into the cooling night. Not that it was very cool in September. Hastily, he returned to grab the plastic bag from the pet store that the dog stuff had come in. If Chief Barker caught him not scooping up his dog’s excrement no doubt they’d both spend the night in lockup.

  After his little buddy had done his business and Evan found a handy trash can, he was free to wander, pausing once in a while when a particularly juicy scent caused the dog to stop and ignore any tugs on the leash until he was good and ready. Evan didn’t mind. It wasn’t like he had to be anywhere tonight. Which only reminded him of where he’d so hoped to end up, and where he was pretty sure the night had been headed before the old dude’s ticker acted up.

  You couldn’t help but like and admire a woman who could save a guy’s life like that. Calm, capable, she’d taken control of the situation and he’d been able to see what she probably couldn’t. Everyone in town had relaxed the second she reached the sick man. Because they trusted her.

  It was only nine o’clock and lights were on in a lot of homes. People sat on porches and watched the kids who were still out playing in the last of the light, or talked, or read.

  He was heading past one such house, a genteel old Victorian with a lone gent on the porch, a man well into his sixties, Evan guessed. He was smoking a pipe, wearing a cardigan and pressed trousers with bedroom slippers. “Evening,” he said as Evan came abreast of his porch.

  “Evening.”

  There was a brass plaque on the wooden column that led to the heavy front door. He assumed it was a historical marker of some sort, so he stepped closer to read the words.

  The sign said, Horace Freemason, Attorney at Law.

  “You’re a lawyer?” Evan asked, stupid question.

  “I am. Horace Freemason.” In case Evan was exactly as stupid as his last question had made him sound.

  Because he didn’t know what else to say, he said, “So am I.”

  “Really? Where do you practice?”

  “I was in Seattle. With Willoughby, Tyson and Grundemeyer, but I’m on a kind of sabbatical right now.”

  “That’s a top tier firm. You in some kind of trouble?” the older man asked.

  “No. Nothing like that.” Funny how nobody could imagine him giving up the job willingly. “I needed a break.”

  The older man nodded. “Big law can wear you down and spit you out. Keeping your soul as collateral.”

  He grinned. “Yes, it can.”

  “I was about to have a brandy. Care to join me?”

  How many times had Clayton Willoughby said those very words? He felt a shiver of grief roll over him. Shrugged it off. “Thanks. I’d like that. Okay if the dog comes up there with us?”

  “Sure.” When Evan and the dog climbed the three broad stairs, Horace indicated an Adirondack next to his. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”

  He got out of his chair and disappeared into the house returning with a bottle and two heavy crystal tumblers.

  He poured a healthy dose into each glass. Then held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Evan Chance. Likewise.” The man’s handshake was firm and hearty.

  They both took a moment to sip their drinks and enjoy. Then his new friend said, “So, what brings you to these parts?”

  “I took the road less traveled.”

  “Metaphorically?”

  “Yes. But also literally. I’m driving across the country on a motorcycle.”

  “That’s what you’re doing with your sabbatical?” He didn’t sound judgmental, but Evan had a momentary pang anyway. Most people who had the drive, smarts and determination to make it in a firm like his were the kind of people who, if they took time out of their career, tended to be appointed to committees doing important work. Or at least to volunteer for lawyers without borders. He was Kerouac with a law degree and no writing talent.

  “That and a few other things. I made a deal with myself, if I was at a cross roads, I’d take the road that seemed more interesting.” He frowned over his drink. “When did this country become so obsessed with freeways?”

  “And big box stores,” his new friend said as though he’d read his mind.

  “Exactly. I decided to take the slower, scenic route.”

  “How’s that working out for you?”

  He shot his host a half-humorous glance. “Sounds great when you’re dreaming of finding small, quaint towns on winding country roads. Sucks to hell and back when your bike needs a part and Merv’s Gas and Automotive is your only hope.”

  “Makes you wish for a big box store, huh? And a freeway to ride out on.”

  Chapter Nine

  Caitlyn checked her messages when she left the hospital. Mr. Newson was resting comfortably in the acute care bed. They’d see how he was in the morning when hopefully his cardiologist would get in to see him. The Newsons’ oldest daughter had driven her mother to the hospital and the two had stayed until the old man was sleeping, the machines monitoring his now stable vitals.

  “Try not to worry,” she said to the older woman. “We’ll know more when he’s seen Dr. Hooper.”

  “Thank you, dear,” she said, clasping Caitlyn’s hand. “I thank God you were in that restaurant.”

  “You’d have been fine without me. Keep his nitro handy at all times and call 9-1-1 if he has an attack. It’s all we can do.”

  She left them and settled into her car for the drive back home. There was a message from Charlotte. “Major hottie. I definitely approve. So does the rest of the book club. Details tomorrow?”

  She smiled at the text. Of course, Charlotte and her husband had left before the commotion, giving her a subtle thumbs-up that she hoped Evan hadn’t noticed.

  She headed home. And as she drove she realized she wasn’t tired. Hell, she felt energized. She’d saved a life tonight and her body wanted to celebrate that miracle in a very physical way.

  With the man who’d seduced her and then hadn’t been able to bed her thanks to a cardiac arrest. Her body wanted to pick up right where they had left things at the restaurant.

  But she had a problem.

  Everything had happened so fast at the end of their dinner non-date that there’d been no chance
to exchange phone numbers or work out when they were going to see each other again. She thought that both of them had pretty much accepted that all their teasing glances and shared stories were leading to physical intimacy, but they hadn’t managed to get there.

  Now what?

  It wasn’t even very late. She checked the clock on her dash. Barely 11 p.m.

  She got back to town, hoping rather than expecting that Evan would somehow intuit that she was no longer needed at the hospital, and how badly she wanted to find him waiting for her.

  As if! She considered cruising by the Mill Pond Motel and trying to find his room, but if she did that she might as well take out a full page ad in the local paper.

  It looked like she’d be spending yet another Saturday night watching Saturday Night Live and wishing things were different.

  As she hit the outskirts of Miller’s Pond she noticed a new poster plastered on the telephone pole heading into town.

  As her headlights hit the paper full on she pressed the brakes and slowed. Wait a minute, she recognized that dog.

  She braked to a stop. Backed up and sure enough, the butt ugly dog she’d treated – was it only yesterday? Was featured in a home-made poster that said, “Is this your dog?”

  No, she said to herself. That’s not my dog, but I think the guy at the end of that telephone number is my guy.

  At least in the short term.

  But it was 11:15. Good people didn’t make phone calls at this time of night.

  She bit her bottom lip, then thought, the hell with it. If he didn’t appreciate the call, he could go back to sleep.

  She pulled out her cell and dialed the number on the poster.

  Evan could not believe he was sitting in a no-account motel watching a re-run of a movie he hadn’t enjoyed very much when he saw it in the theater as a new release.

  But his options were limited.

  The dog lay on the floor by the door, its eyes glued to him. It was a little unnerving. “Hey, I’m going to leave you sometimes. I have a life. Get over it.”

  The stick of tail thumped, but the staring continued.

  When his cell phone rang, the first thing he did was check call display. So few people had this number that he had a moment’s dread that something might be wrong at home. He didn’t recognize the number, but then he remembered he’d plastered his phone number all over town in an attempt to find the lost dog’s owner. “Could be your mom and pops,” he said to the dog.

  When he answered, a breathy female voice said, “Evan?”

  He sat back against the pillows and felt his evening get back on track. He recognized that voice. “This is he.”

  “This is Caitlyn. I hope I’m not calling too late?”

  “No I was watching TV wishing I was doing a whole lot of other things, with you.”

  He heard her quick intake of breath. Felt his body stir.

  “Oh, I am so glad.”

  That made him laugh, and she said, “I felt terrible running out on you like that.”

  “Yeah. You should have let that old man croak right there in the restaurant instead of saving his life.”

  She giggled. “Well, It did derail our … evening.”

  “Are you calling to get the evening back on its rails?”

  He felt the tiny pause as she had to decide whether she was going to commit herself or simply say good night. He felt as though his heart stopped beating while he waited. He really wanted to see her again, like in the next thirty minutes.

  “Yes,” she whispered and he’d have bet fifty bucks that she was blushing a little right now.

  “Where are you?”

  “Ten minutes from my place.”

  “What a coincidence. I’m ten minutes from your place also. I could meet you there. Unless you’d like to experience the excellent hospitality of the Mill Pond Motel.”

  “I think it would definitely be better if you came here. Um, if I left the garage door open, could you drive in?”

  “Absolutely.” He liked that she was thinking of preserving her privacy. And her reputation from small-town gossip. “Ah, there’s just one thing.”

  “What is it?’

  “Would it be okay if I brought the dog?” He could not believe he was asking. But he had a feeling if he tried to leave this room without taking that mutt with him, the dog would howl the walls down.

  “Of course.” He heard the smile in her voice. Phew. “I have a cat. We’ll see how they get along.”

  “I can’t wait to see you.” And he was surprised how true those words were.

  He stopped only to shave, brush his teeth and stuff a handful of condoms in his pocket, then he put the dog into the loaner car and headed for heaven. The dog sat up beside him, nose pressed to the window where Evan had opened it an inch. “There’s a cat, pal. I am really counting on you to act cool. We’re guests. Can you do that?” The tail thumped, but he wasn’t entirely sure his words had got through.

  When he drew near Caitlyn’s house he saw that a couple of inside lights glowed behind closed blinds. Another light gleamed above the garage, which, as she’d promised, was wide open. Her car was already parked but there was plenty of room for a second vehicle. He pulled in, got out, the dog jumping out behind him. He found the switch that would close the garage door and hit it, sending the metal door cranking down.

  Caitlyn must have heard the noise, for as he headed for the door into her house it opened. And she stood there. She was wearing the same clothes she’d worn to dinner. The sexy blue top that made her eyes even bluer, the skirt that hugged her hips and those shoes that had strutted right out of a fantasy.

  All the heat they’d built between them over dinner came roaring back. She was looking at him with her big, beautiful blue eyes and an expression that was slightly nervous but mostly excited.

  He walked up, didn’t say a word, merely pulled her into his arms and put his mouth on hers. He had no more subtle moves left. His need was too great. If he didn’t taste her right now, feel her body move against him, he would die.

  Some of his desperation must have communicated to her. She made a tiny sound as she tumbled against him and then wrapped her arms around his back and let him take what he’d been dreaming of since she’d treated him in this very house.

  She tasted sweet, hot. At some point she’d had coffee and he tasted a hint of that. Then he couldn’t think of anything but her body moving against him as they kissed. He heard the dog whine behind him and realized he was blocking the door. He moved, still kissing her, pushing them both into the kitchen of her house, felt the dog brush past his legs. He kicked the door shut behind them and, still kissing her, moved them into the kitchen and up against a wall. He lifted his head long enough to look into her eyes, already cloudy with arousal. Her lips were wet from his mouth, plump and glossy.

  “I want you with every fiber of my being,” he said.

  She nudged his erection with her hips. “I kind of got that.”

  He grinned and took her mouth again. She kissed like an angel, he thought. She was open, receptive, a little teasing with her tongue. Their mouths were so completely in synch in their back and forth dance that he knew the sex would be amazing.

  He was determined it would be, whatever he had to do.

  “Would you like to go up to my bedroom?” she whispered.

  “Does Santa Claus wear red?”

  She smiled against his mouth and when they were able to break away, she took his hand and led him through the darkened house up a wide set of stairs. A cat made a brrp noise from the shadowy shape of a couch, but the dog ignored it and stayed with them.

  “If you’ve got a threesome in mind, Homely, you’re going to be disappointed,” he said as they climbed. “I don’t share.”

  “You sound like a caveman,” Caitlyn said, her hand tight in his.

  “About some things, a man should be.”

  She turned and shook her head at him. “It’s a good thing I have other things on my mind right n
ow or I’d give you an argument.”

  “Don’t make me get my caveman club.”

  “Don’t make me get my mace.”

  Then they were kissing again. When they reached the top of the stairs, she turned them right. Before he walked into her bedroom, he bent down to the dog and said, “You stay here.”

  Then he shut the door, leaving the unhappy looking mutt on the other side of it.

  Her room was as elegant and feminine as Caitlyn herself. It was dominated by a huge antique sleigh bed, with a blue and white sprigged duvet and about half a dozen soft-looking pillows. She’d made her bedroom a kind of sanctuary, and he imagined a woman who got called out at all hours to birth babies and cope with disease, accident and whatever else the good people of Miller’s Pond could do to hurt or maim themselves, probably really liked her bed.

  The furniture was a collection of white pieces mixed with good antiques.

  The wide plank floor was covered with a rug but really, right now, he only cared about the bed and getting her in it. And soon.

  She bent to flip back the duvet and simply watching the gesture, the elegant line of her hip, the way the fabric of her skirt tightened around her excellent ass, had him moving forward. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, running his hands up her front until he could cup her breasts. She made a low, purring sound in her throat, which he took to mean she was happy. He lifted the heavy silk mass of her hair and put his lips to the sensitive spot at the nape of her neck. She shivered against his touch.

  He undressed her slowly, unwrapping her like the best gift he’d ever received.

  Evan had never been a rip the wrap off kind of guy; he liked to savor the anticipation of a gift. He felt the same way about a woman. He liked to undress her slowly, build up the desire in both of them until they were burning for each other.

  Though in this case he was already close to spontaneous combustion. Had he ever wanted a woman more?

  Had he?

  “I can’t remember a time when I’ve wanted a man more,” she said, echoing his own thoughts so perfectly that he was stunned.

  She reached for him, pulling his T-shirt over his head. Leaning forward she placed open-mouthed kisses on his chest. She nipped him and then soothed the spot with her tongue. He was losing focus. He wanted the foreplay to be all about her, but she wasn’t playing by his rules. She seemed to have an agenda all her own.