Long Slow Burn

by Isabel Sharpe

  “Why aren’t you at work?”

  “Traded shifts. I’m going later. What did you do to yourself?” He hadn’t stopped staring. She didn’t think he’d even blinked.

  “I went to a salon. With friends. And then shopping.” She dragged her eyes away from his muscled chest and arms and from his predatory gaze, but they dragged themselves back.

  He was handsome. Not just cute. Handsome in a more real way than Troy’s dark perfection. His brown hair was still wet, and bits of it stood on end all over his head, making him look sexily disheveled. His jaw was smooth-shaven. The scents of soap and aftershave even made inhaling in the same room arousing.

  Nathan was hot.

  He walked toward her, stopped six feet away when she put up her hand, warding off the unknown.

  “Kim.” His voice was deep, husky. “You look like a completely different woman.”

  “No. No, no. I’m not.” Immediately, she wanted her long hair back, wanted to run to the bathroom and wash off the new face. She did not want to look like one of the women Nathan collected. She didn’t want him attracted to her for that reason.

  Wait, she didn’t want him attracted to her for any reason.

  “Hey, hey. No. Of course you’re not.” He was speaking uncharacteristically slowly, as if the sight of her had run down his brain. Blood draining somewhere else? She glanced at his towel; she couldn’t help it. No, thank goodness, nothing that obvious. “I just said you look different. You look incredible.”

  So do you.

  She couldn’t say that. Up close his body was even more beautiful and even more disconcerting. His skin looked soft and touchable, the muscle tough and sensually masculine.

  “Thank you. You look very…” She gestured vaguely to his torso, eyes down somewhere by his knees. “Clean.”

  When he didn’t respond, she lifted her eyes and immediately wished she hadn’t, because his gaze gripped hers and held on. She’d seen men’s bodies before, had admired men’s bodies before, but had never wanted to touch and taste like this. Was it the wine? The makeup? The outfit? Was she going to turn into someone as shallow in pursuit of the opposite sex as Nathan?

  Look at him, practically drooling just because she’d changed her appearance. What about last night? She wasn’t worth drooling over then?

  He’d pressed her to the wall, leaned close, but no, not drooling; it was all a big ha-ha joke on her. Good thing she hadn’t known what that body looked like under his clothes or she would have been even more tempted, and then humiliated by the gotcha.

  She had to break this crazy spell.

  “I’m going to change and wash this stuff off. You hungry? I assume you’re going to want to put something on besides a towel for dinner?”

  He blinked, as if she’d woken him from a trance, and gestured to his lack of outfit. “Yeah, I was in the shower and remembered I don’t have any…clean underwear.”

  The look on his face was so boyishly sheepish that she was able to forget the body. Yup. Still Nathan. So, fine. They’d had a weird connection on some other level than they were used to, that was all. For a few seconds they’d been attractive strangers to each other. Now back to normal.

  “Go commando then. Stir-fry tonight? I found a recipe for orange-beef with broccoli that sounds great. I could use help if you feel like it.” She walked past him, aware she was babbling. “You finished in the bathroom?”

  “It’s all yours.”

  She spun around and eyed him like a disapproving school-teacher. “In this bathroom that you are all finished with, will I find dirty clothes on the floor and the bath mat not put back?”

  “Um…” He made a beeline for the bathroom door, holding her off with an outstretched hand. “Be right out. I, uh, forgot to shave twice.”

  Kim laughed, completely back on track. After he came out with an armload of his clothes, she went into the bathroom, which was humid and fresh, and filled with the same scent she’d smelled on Nathan, but which she would now and forever after ignore. She washed the makeup off, glad when the mirror showed her drippy familiar reflection, though with the new hair. She dried her face and went back to her room to change into her sweats and sweater.

  The sweats went on, baggy sweater went on. She stood for a moment in the old, comfortable clothes, then went to her full-length mirror for a long look.

  Impulsively, she changed the sweats for jeans, pulled the sweater back off and dug in her bureau drawer until she found a soft blue cardigan, which she paired with a white, scoop-neck shirt. Another look in the mirror. Her cheeks glowed from their scrubbing, her eyes matched the sweater—but they’d lost their vivid shape.

  She strode to the bed, where she’d thrown the bag of overpriced cosmetics, bought under the careful scrutiny of Marie, Candy and the lady at Macy’s whose makeup, Kim thought privately, made her look like the bride of Dracula. She grabbed the soft brown eye liner, smudged on the barest amount, then curled her lashes and darkened the tips with mascara.

  Back to the mirror. Turning this way, that way, touching her new shorter hair, making sure she didn’t look as if she’d made herself up to look sexy for Nathan, because she was doing this only for herself. And for Dale and any guys she’d be dating in the future.

  Feeling a little giddy, she made for the kitchen and started getting out ingredients: knives and cutting boards, steak, broccoli, an orange, scallions, garlic, soy sauce and sesame oil, cornstarch for coating the beef, and rice, which she put on to cook so it would be ready when they were.

  “I’m no longer indecent.”

  Nathan’s voice made her jump. For heaven’s sake, she had to stay comfortable with him or she’d never survive the next few months. “Well, that’s good.”

  “But you are still beautiful.”

  She scowled at him. “What, you want to borrow money or something?”

  “Actually.” He stood next to her at the counter, too close. “I am short for rent this month.”

  “Really?” Her mouth went dry; the wine rebelled in her stomach. Nathan sent her a look that made her cringe in shame. “Sorry, right, sorry. You were kidding.”

  “Geez, Kim. It’s great to know you have such a high opinion of me.” He nudged her to show he was teasing. “Put me to work.”

  “Can you slice the steak?”

  “How do you want it?” He reached across her; his upper arm brushed her collarbone; Kim jerked back, then was annoyed at herself for reacting. “Thin slices?”

  “Yes.” She stepped away from the counter, peered at her recipe, taking a minute to calm down.

  “Want a beer?” He opened the refrigerator.

  Maybe that would relax her, though she wasn’t sure she needed any more alcohol today. “Okay.”

  “Coming up.” Nathan popped the tops off of two St. Pauli Girls and handed her one. “To your health.”

  “Thank you.” She clinked bottles without looking at him, took a long sip. “Mmm, that hits the spot.”

  “Uh-huh.” He took his place at the kitchen table with a cutting board, knife and steak, and started slicing. “Tell me something I don’t know about you, Kim.”

  “Huh? Why?” She put her beer on the counter, opened a drawer for the Microplane grater and went to work on the orange rind.

  “Why not? Tell me your best childhood memory.”

  Kim set the orange down and twisted to look at him. This wasn’t the type of conversation she’d come to expect from Nathan. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, I’m serious. Why shouldn’t I be?”

  “I don’t know.” While she thought how to answer, she piled fragrant rind onto a saucer, picked up a scallion and stripped off a wilted outer leaf. “Okay, I can think of two favorite memories.”

  “Tell me.”

  “We-ell.” She felt shy sharing with him, and wasn’t sure why. “The first is when I was eight, my dad made me a dollhouse for my birthday, an incredible one. Three stories, taller than me. It was fully furnished, too, electric lights that wo
rked, and a little doll family in residence. It was the most magical thing I’d ever seen. I played with it constantly.”

  “What happened to it?”

  “When I went to college Mom sold it.” Kim’s voice thickened with nostalgia. She reached for her beer and took a long slug.

  “Without asking you?”

  “She told me she was doing it.” Kim began chopping the scallions into half-inch lengths. “It was around the time of the divorce, my sophomore year. She was moving into a smaller place. I didn’t have the heart to insist she keep something she had no room for and which I’d never play with again. It was some other girl’s turn to enjoy it.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Kim shrugged, surprised at how the memory moved her. “We all have to grow up sometime.”

  “Ha. I never bothered.”

  Laughter caught her. She turned and found Nathan behind her with a board of neatly sliced steak. “Meat’s done. What’s next, boss?”

  “Coat it with cornstarch?”

  Nathan frowned dubiously. “Um…”

  “Put cornstarch in a plastic bag, add the slices and shake.”

  “That sounds like serious fun.”

  She laughed at his enthusiasm, feeling at ease again. He seemed able to rattle her and smooth her out within a very few minutes. Nice little roller coaster.

  “You said there were two childhood memories.” He reached for the yellow box of cornstarch, poured some into a plastic bread bag. “What was the second?”

  “Are you going to tell me yours afterward?”

  “Are you kidding me?” He interrupted a swallow of beer to stare scornfully. “I don’t share anything with women but body fluids.”

  “Nathan!”

  He grinned. “I will tell you whatever you want to know, Kim. Finish yours first.”

  “Hmph. But okay.” She scraped the chopped scallions onto a plate, pulled the broccoli toward her. “My second favorite memory was the first time my dad took me to the ballet.”

  “Your dad went to the ballet?”

  Kim rolled her eyes, then caught the twinkle in his. “Why do you pretend to be such a boor?”

  He seemed caught off guard. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “More of a boor than you really are, I mean.”

  He grinned, easy and in control again, and shrugged. “Habit.”

  “Bad one.”

  “Could be.” He added meat slices to the bag of cornstarch. “Your dad sounds like a cool guy.”

  “Great dad. Dismal husband.” She gave the broccoli a particularly vicious whack with the knife. “He didn’t do much to keep the home fires burning. In fact, he was out lighting them everywhere else.”

  Nathan stopped shaking the bag. “Kim, I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks.” She whacked off another floret, not sure why she’d told him. She hadn’t told many people. Her best friend in high school. Boyfriends. Marie. And now Nathan.

  “But he took you to the ballet.”

  “He did. The Nutcracker at Christmas. I was about seven. Mom wasn’t into that kind of cultural experience, but he felt it was important. I loved the dancing so much I begged to take lessons.”

  “And you still do.”

  “I stopped for a while. But I started up again last year at Danceworks with a Saturday morning class. I really missed it.”

  She finished with the broccoli. Nathan shook up the last batch of meat slices and dumped them onto a plate with the first half.

  “Your turn, now.”

  “For what?” He came up behind her, opening the cabinets above her head. His chest pressed against her upper back. His arms circled her, one resting on each door.

  Kim tensed, holding the chef’s knife suspended over the cutting board, her body reacting to the contact with his. She wanted to lean into him, wanted his arms to slide down from the cabinets and wrap around her.

  She was completely insane. The parallel with Nathan, her father and Tony wasn’t too hard to figure out. Womanizing father, womanizing boyfriend, lust now for womanizing roommate? No. Not returning to that pattern.

  She put the knife down, wiggled around and got right into his face. “What are you doing?”

  He didn’t blink, looked down at her calmly, close enough that she could kiss him by rising on tiptoes. “Getting crackers. What are you doing?”

  Her face flamed. He didn’t feel anything being this close? Didn’t realize what he was doing to her? “You’re crowding me.”

  He didn’t move. “Yeah?”

  She poked him in the chest and pointed back to where he’d stood before. “I’ll get the crackers. You go over there.”

  “You smell good.”

  “Over. There.”

  “You look even better.”

  “Go. Now.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He ambled back to the cornstarch-powdered meat. “I finished this. Do you want me to chop garlic now? Measure seasonings?”

  She took a moment to reach for the crackers, wanting to sock him. She was a jittery mess of adrenaline and hormones, and he felt nothing?

  Think Troy. Think Dale. Think dating, not lust. Think relationship, think communication, think all the things that were much more important than desire. Besides, she’d known Nathan since senior year, lived with him for three and a half weeks, and only in the past couple of days had she started seeing him differently. It had to do with her awakening to members of the opposite sex. She wanted love, not Nathan.

  “You measure out the soy sauce and sesame oil, I’ll chop the garlic, then we’re ready to cook.”

  Bravo, Kim. She was in control here. She had the power. She’d learned from her father, from Tony, from her brother, how men like to play with women to make themselves feel attractive. This had nothing to do with her. To Nathan she was a female body. But to Dale she was Kim Charlotte Horton, someone worth getting to know.

  “Now tell me your most special childhood memory.”

  “Kim.” Nathan looked supremely pained. “Because sharing special memories is not in The Man’s Guide to Being Manly I’ll have to swear you to secrecy.”

  “You can trust me.”

  “I know.” He smiled, an open, dazzling smile that would have made her toes curl had she been in that mode still. But of course, she wasn’t; she was cured of any illusions about her new and very unfortunate awareness of Nathan.

  “Let me guess your secret.” She rid her fingers of the garlic smell by rubbing them on a stainless spoon under running water. “I’m thinking you had a Barbie at age twelve.”

  “Hey.” He capped the soy sauce, looking convincingly bewildered. “Who told you?”

  “I have my sources.” She dried her hands. “Tell me more.”

  “Let’s see. Special childhood memory…probably when I finally got my first dog at age thirteen, and realized I had someone to talk to who really understood me.”

  He was grinning as if it was a joke, but Kim sensed something deeper lurked underneath. “You were lonely.”

  “Nah.” Nathan picked up a sponge and wiped down the counter. “I had four brothers and plenty of friends.”

  He was lonely. Lonely surrounded by people, a worse kind of lonely than being alone. She’d been there, too, the only introvert in a boisterous, extroverted family. Sometimes she felt as if she must have been found on the doorstep.

  But why would Nathan be lonely? She’d met his brothers over the years, and they seemed the same kind of high-fiving chest-bumper he was. Apparently Nathan hadn’t blazed his own trail the way she had. Not that she’d had much choice; she simply couldn’t function at the high energy level of the rest of her family.

  She reached under the counter, brought out their largest skillet and started it heating on the burner next to the rice. “What was your dog’s name?”

  “Lloyd. After Frank Lloyd Wright.”

  “Is he still around?”

  “Nope.” He drained his beer, opened the refrigerator for another. “A car got him a few yea
rs after I did.”

  “Oh, Nathan.” She stared helplessly, holding the bottle of canola oil poised over the heated pan. “I’m sorry. You never got another one?”

  “I was off to college soon after I lost him, and my last apartment didn’t allow them.” He popped off the top of his second beer and half raised it to his lips. “Why, you want a puppy here?”

  “Um. No.” She poured in the oil, added the beef and stirred. He stood close, watching. She didn’t let him get to her this time, but browned the beef, then the broccoli, mixed them with the orange rind, scallions and seasonings, let the dish simmer, and pronounced it done.

  They ate at the kitchen table, talking comfortably as they’d done every night since Nathan moved in. Kim made herself focus on Dale, anticipating the email that would be waiting dependably on her laptop.

  They did the dishes side by side, Kim rinsing, Nathan loading the dishwasher, then Nathan washing pans and knives, Kim drying. She did the final cleanup while Nathan got ready for work.

  “I had fun tonight.” He came back into the kitchen, looking sharp in his all-black bartending outfit.

  “Me, too.” She grinned at him fondly.

  “I think you like me.”

  “Of course I like you.” She dried her hands, hung the towel back in place. “I wouldn’t have let you live with me if I didn’t like you.”

  “No-o-o, I think you li-ike, like me.” He adopted a nerdy, nasal tone, waggled his eyebrows, then shot out his hands and hooked his thumbs through her belt loops. “Admit it, you have a crush on me-e-e.”

  “Ew!”

  “C’mon, bay-bee.” He gave a ghastly bucktoothed grin. “Admit it, I’m irre-sis-tible.”

  “Get over yourself, Urquel.” She could barely speak through her giggles.

  Nathan twisted to look at the stove clock, still holding her at the waist, then turned back, all goofiness gone.

  “I have to go.” He pulled her close. “Don’t wait up for me, sweetheart.”

  “Nathan…” She rolled her eyes, put her hands to his chest, then pulled them away abruptly, hating the way she responded to the hard muscle there and the fake tenderness in his voice. “You are completely—”