by Beth Ciotta
“Are you two okay?” Kylie finally asked.
“We’re going through a rough patch.”
“Because of what I blabbed at Boone’s?”
“Because of a lot of stuff,” said Faye. “We’ve been married a long time, Kylie. Problems flare.”
What kind of problems? Kylie wondered. Money problems? Fidelity problems? Her heart ached for her friend. “Want to talk about it?”
After an awkward pause, Faye said, “Not really.”
Kylie hoped it wasn’t because Faye no longer trusted her to keep her confidence. “Well, if you ever do—”
“Thanks.”
Kylie scrambled for a more cheery subject. “I can’t remember if I told you about the customized sneakers I ordered.”
“I’m all ears,” Faye said as she clipped Kylie’s bangs.
“Well, when I was surfing the Net for unique merchandise, I came across the Web site for Bada-Bling! Thanks to the popularity of omertà everyone’s always dropping mob slang: Bada Bing, Gabagool—”
“Jamook.”
“I heard Mr. Keystone use that one last week,” Kylie said. “What’s it mean, anyway?”
“Idiot,” Faye said. “Lamebrain. Jerk. Stan started using that one a lot with his road rage. But then Sting started saying it, so I looked it up. It is now a prohibited word within the Tyler household.”
“Huh. Anyway, between the name and Dixie’s cool creations, it felt like fate. I ordered a supply of customized sneakers on the spot.”
“You mean during your late-night drunken buying binge?”
“Never mind that,” Kylie said, cheeks flushing. “These shoes are not only comfortable, but fun. I was hoping to use Spice to kick-start a fad.”
“My daughter, the shy one?” Faye furrowed her brow. “How so?”
“Remember when we were in middle and high school, how we wore T-shirts, sweatshirts and jackets displaying the school mascot?”
“Ah,” Faye said. “You want to start a new trend with the teens. You want to get sneakers into that mix.”
“I ordered a few different styles. Slip-ons, high-tops and low-tops. Although they all celebrate Eden—apples, Johnny Appleseed, Paradise in the Heartland, blah, blah, blah—no two pair are alike.” Kylie struggled not to look over her shoulder, hence causing Faye to burn her with that flatiron. “What do you think?”
“I think Spice is going to adore being your walking billboard. I think you’re probably on to something big. Not just with the local kids. The tourists will eat up those blingy apple shoes.” She squeezed Kylie’s shoulder, then passed her a big handheld mirror. “What do you think?”
Kylie stared at her reflection. Talk about shaking things up.
“You love it.”
“I love it. Oh, Faye.” She’d cut off a good five inches, but Kylie’s hair still fell well below her shoulders. Graduated layers now framed her face and she had bangs. She hadn’t had bangs since she was in first grade. But instead of looking like a little kid she looked…sophisticated, yet flirty. Smoothing out her natural waves with the flatiron had made her darker color really shine. “I feel like a new woman. I feel…different.”
“You look fantabulous, if I do say so myself. Now, go and change into the dress I brought while I clean up this mess. Jack will be here in thirty minutes.”
Pulse racing, Kylie scurried into her bedroom. Her hands trembled as she unzipped the garment bag Faye had laid on her bed. She felt like she was prepping for her high school prom. “This is nuts. Get a grip, McGraw.”
But then she saw the dress. “Holy smokes.” So Faye, and so not her. A retro number, reminiscent of a sixties glamour girl. A soft pink, form-fitting dress that would accentuate her curves. Far from anything in Kylie’s closet. Then again, it was sort of Kim Novak-like.
Sold.
She shimmied into the dress and realized that, though the front didn’t show much cleavage, the back showed an awful lot of skin. She checked the view via her full-length mirror. “Cripes.”
“You hate it,” Faye said as she walked in.
“I love it, but don’t you think it’s a little much for Wong’s?”
“Honey, if we’re doing this right,” Faye said as she searched the bottom of Kylie’s closet, “you’ll never make it to Wong’s. Here.” She passed Kylie a pair of black heels she’d bought and never worn. “Try these.”
Five-inch stiletto pumps. Pointy toes. Ankle straps. Kylie had purchased these fetishlike shoes more than a year ago. Online, on a whim. She’d been looking for another way to please Bobby, only the moment never seemed right, or maybe she’d lacked the nerve.
“Can you walk in them?” Faye asked.
Kylie nodded. She’d practiced.
“The last time I wore a pair of shoes like this, Stan locked me in the bedroom for two days.”
Kylie grabbed the shiny pumps and buckled them on.
Faye grinned. “Sit.”
Kylie perched on the end of her bed. She squinted at her bedside clock. Five-forty-five. Fifteen minutes to Jack.
“Forgoing your glasses tonight, huh?”
“I won’t be able to read the menu, but that’s okay. I have it memorized.”
“You order in from them enough.” Faye swept another coat of mascara over Kylie’s eyelashes and smoothed mauve gloss over her lips. “Normally,” she said, “I would’ve opted for red, but Jack’s just going to kiss it off and you really don’t want to see his mouth smeared with red lipstick. Sort of ruins the moment. Hold still. Good. There. Stand up. Let me see.”
Kylie turned in a circle. “Well?”
“I’d do ya.” Faye smiled. “If I were a lesbo, that is.”
Overly emotional, Kylie blurted, “About our tiff…”
Faye squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry about that, Kylie. It’s just…I’ve been stressed. This thing with Stan. Then you with your birthday crisis…I gave up on my dream to be a rock star a long time ago, but I never gave up on your dream. I’ve been living vicariously through you, anticipating the thrill of your letters and phone calls. The pictures and stories. The adventure. When it hit me that you’d given up on your dream trip—”
“But I haven’t.” Kylie bounced between miffed and confused. “It’s just postponed.”
Faye smiled and squeezed her hand. “It’s okay. People change. Dreams change. And like you, I need to take charge of my own happiness.”
“I didn’t realize you were unhappy.”
“It’s something I need to work out in my own head, then I’ll share it with you.”
Kylie didn’t know what to say, what to think, what to feel. Not wanting to blow things out of proportion, she decided to shelve her concerns until she knew Faye’s exact dilemma. “Promise you’ll share?”
Faye crossed her heart, then looked at her watch. “Jack’ll be here any minute. I better hit the road.”
Feeling emotional on multiple levels now, Kylie followed her friend into the living room. Walking on five-inch stilettos was a challenge, but her balance, thanks to her martial arts training and previous practice, was dead-on. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“With details of tonight’s escapade. Which reminds me.” Faye dipped into her tote and handed Kylie two shiny packets.
Kylie blushed. “Condoms?”
“Ultra-ribbed. Have fun!” She hugged Kylie just as someone knocked. She whispered “You look beautiful,” then opened the door. “Hi, Jack. Bye, Jack.”
“Nice to see you, Faye.”
Jack moved in as Faye moved out and Kylie swore she felt the world tilt. He looked amazing. Actually, he always looked amazing, but tonight, he looked I-could-lick-you-from-head-to-toe amazing. What was it about a man in a leather blazer?
“You look incredible.”
It took her a second to realize that Jack was speaking to her. She’d been so focused on him. “Faye,” she croaked. “Her dress. Her hair. I mean she cut my hair.” She also gave you condoms. Kylie clasped her hands behind her back. Ho
w was she going to ditch the packets without Jack seeing them?
His gaze fell to her shoes. “Oh, Christ.” He dragged a hand over his buzzed hair.
She inched back.
They spoke at once. “I can’t do this.”
“I knew it,” she blurted. “I knew this was too good to be true. No makeover in the world will help. Whenever you look at me you see Spenser’s little sister. The moony-eyed girl who asked you to be her first. This is just…too weird. I get it. I—”
“Actually,” Jack interrupted, “I meant I can’t wait. I intended to take this slow. To wine and dine you, to seduce you over a few dates. But then I saw you and…it’s not just the hair and the dress or the shoes—although those heels are smoking hot—it’s you. I can’t do slow, Kylie. That’s what I meant. Not that it matters since you’re backing out.”
She blinked. “I’m not…I’m…that is, I meant, I can’t sit through dinner wondering if we’re going to, you know, do it…tonight. I can’t stand worrying that I’m going to disappoint you. I’m wired a little different, Jack. Not that I mind, but the men I’ve been with do. Not that there have been a lot of men, still.” Don’t talk about your past boyfriends. Men hate that. “This is hopeless,” Kylie said, heart sinking. “I’m hopeless.”
“I’m a bastard.”
She blinked. “What? Why?” He didn’t answer, and she struggled to get a bead on his mind-set. The one thing she knew for certain: this man was a genuine old-fashioned gentleman. “Because you want me for the wrong reasons? Whatever they are. Because you’re not husband material? So you said. So I’ve been warned. Don’t insult me, Jack. I’m a big girl. I know what I want. I don’t want slow.”
“You sure about that?”
“Dead sure.”
Jack pulled a cell phone from his inner jacket pocket, flipped it open and dialed. “Evening. Jack Reynolds here. I’d like to cancel my seven o’clock reservation.” He raked a smoldering blue gaze over Kylie, setting her body on fire. “We’ll be dining in.”
Oh, boy. Oh, God. No turning back now, not that she wanted to. Kylie’s stomach swirled with nerves and anticipation. If she ate just now, she’d hurl. “I’m not hungry.”
“I am.” His gaze was hot, his grin sinful, and she realized suddenly that he wasn’t talking about food. “I have some wine in the car,” he said.
She licked her glossed lips. “I’d rather be clearheaded for this. I think.” She clutched the condoms in her balled hands. Maybe she could drop them behind her and kick them under the futon sofa without him noticing. Or maybe she should play naughty, take the initiative and tear open a packet—right here, right now.
She stood frozen. “I’ve wanted you, this, for what seems like forever. Now that it’s here…what if it’s not everything I imagined it to be?” She could almost hear Max and gang groan.
“The pressure to perform right now would be crushing if I weren’t so damned attracted to you, Tiger.” Jack shrugged out of that sexy leather coat and closed the distance between them.
She glanced down and noted the evidence of his attraction straining against his jeans. Her heart skipped when he smoothed her new sleek hair from her face, then brushed a soft kiss over her mouth. “I can’t be your first, Kylie, but I’ll try my damnedest to be your most memorable.”
Holy smoke. She closed her eyes and mentally chanted an affirmation. “I can handle this. I can handle him. I’m adventurous. I’m flexible.”
He kissed her again, but this time he lingered. A slow kiss, a tender kiss. A kiss so achingly perfect, it brought tears to her eyes. His warm palms slid over her shoulders and down her bare arms, inciting goose bumps and pleasure—until his fingers closed around her fists.
“Faye gave them to me,” she said as he claimed and inspected the foiled condoms. “I’m now officially mortified.”
Smiling, Jack tossed them on the end table. “What you are, hon, is beautiful inside and out. That’s what makes you so irresistible.”
Her limbs melted along with her heart. “On second thought, a glass of wine would be nice.”
He studied her for a moment, then nipped her lower lip. “You get the glasses. I’ll get the bottle.”
As soon as he was gone, she skittered to her bedroom and kicked her rejected date-wear under the bed. She spritzed herself and the air with a subtle exotic perfume (men like exotic), smoothed her satin quilt, then skittered back to the living room. She was bent over, turning on her CD player, when she heard the door open and shut.
“Don’t move.”
Her pulse raced as she felt Jack move in behind her, his erection pressing against her rear, his hand caressing the base of her neck, then smoothing down her bare spine.
“I don’t know who scores more points,” he said in a rough voice. “Faye for providing this kick-ass dress, or you for looking so sexy in it.”
“I vote for me.” Kylie pressed Play and sensual strains of Yo-Yo Ma’s cello enhanced the charged air. She straightened and turned in Jack’s arms.
He searched her eyes. “How bad do you want that glass of wine?”
“Not as bad as I want you.”
He dropped his forehead to hers, then pulled her against him, one hand stroking her bare back as they moved in time with the music. Slow. Sensual. “What’s the name of this song?” he asked, nuzzling her ear.
“I’m embarrassed to say.”
“I’m dying to know.”
She swallowed and breathed in his signature scent—a combination of soap and subtle after-shave. Her senses flashed back to one of the times he’d crashed at her childhood home after an all-night study cram with Spenser. She’d run into Jack coming out of their bathroom, freshly showered, dressed only in jeans—no shirt, so shoes. She’d been mortified and mesmerized. He was so handsome, so masculine and smelled so yummy. She’d felt an odd ache in her tummy and private parts. A thirteen-year-old could sure pine hard for an unrequited love. This song summed up how she’d feel about Jack until the day she died.
“Love of My Life,” she finally answered. She expected him to tense, but he only tightened his hold. As they danced in silence, Kylie’s body grew more pliant, her anxiety melting away. She smoothed her hands over Jack’s strong shoulders, grazed her fingers through his short, dark hair. Smitten and seduced, she framed his gorgeous face and poured her heart into a kiss.
Her Yo-Yo Ma mix segued into the musician’s passionate unaccompanied rendition of a Bach classic. Kylie’s limbs turned liquid when Jack took control, deepening the kiss and easing down the zipper at the base of her back. The fabric slid off her shoulders, then pooled to the floor. The feel of his hands roving over her naked flesh nearly sent her over the moon.
“He’s the one,” her mind whispered. Between the music, her pent-up longing and Jack’s skilled touch, the moment was magic.
“Beautiful,” he murmured as he kissed his way down her body.
She moaned when he suckled her nipples. Sighed as he licked and nipped her belly. Her body trembled when he caressed and squeezed her rear—bare because of her thong.
But then he stopped.
She looked down and saw Jack inspecting the massive bruise on her thigh. Shoot. “It’s nothing. Really,” she rasped in a breathless voice. “Go back to what you were doing.”
After a moment, he gently kissed her injury, then ridded her of the lacy thong. She trembled with anticipation. Was he going to take her here? On the floor? On the futon? She didn’t care so long as he took her now. She pitched a fevered glance at the condoms on the end table. But Jack was focused on her. He kissed her…down there. She froze. That had never worked for her, but she couldn’t breathe, let alone form words.
She felt his tongue flicking, teeth nibbling, fingers probing….
The music swelled and Kylie exploded. “Oh, my God. Oh, my…” Her breath caught when Jack stood and swept her into his arms.
He cranked the music, then carried her into her bedroom. Tears pricked her eyes as he gently laid her on the
bed, then not so gently removed his shirt and jeans.
“I’m not broken,” she said in a croaky, emotional voice. Such a stupid thing to say!
“Easy, baby.” He started to remove her shoes.
“No! Leave them. Please.” She felt different in the stilettos. Sexy, not sensible.
“You’re killing me,” he said, rolling on a condom he must’ve had stashed in his jeans. Even that was sexy. Then suddenly, he was on top of her, inside her. She gasped then clung, writhing beneath his spectacular naked body as he—oh, my—fucked her senseless.
It happened so fast, an intense orgasm that rocked Kylie to her soul. She screamed Jack’s name and a couple of racy new-to-her-lips expletives.
He kissed her hard, drove deep, then shuddered with his own release.
Kylie couldn’t think or see straight. But she could hear the beautiful music, the sound of their heavy breathing. She could feel Jack’s heart pounding against her chest. The happiest moment in her life, yet she burst into tears.
Jack rolled off and pulled her into his arms, smoothed a hand over her hair. “Not all you’d hoped for, huh?” he teased softly.
She smacked his muscled arm, throat clogged with stifled sobs, her body trembling in the aftermath of two different, mind-blowing orgasms. When she caught her breath, she rasped, “More than I ever dreamed.”
JACK WAS TOUCHED BY Kylie’s emotional reaction and stunned by his lack of control. First he’d bailed on the dating process, then he’d rushed making love to her. He’d wanted to take it slow. He’d wanted to make her come a dozen times, a dozen different ways. But her honesty and vulnerability, not to mention her sweet face and beautiful body, had done him in. The backless dress and FMPs had pushed him over the edge. Or maybe it had been her choice of music: “Love of My Life.” Normally, the sentiment would’ve scared the shit out of him. Instead, it touched him in a way he couldn’t define.