After Hours Bundle

by Karen Kendall

  “I never meant—”

  “Yes, mi corazon, you did.” But he smiled at her to soften his words. “We are each from very different cultures. Yours may be understated, but that doesn’t make mine wrong or bad. Here in Miami, expensive cars and jewelry are a reflection of prosperity, not bad taste.”

  Kate opened and then shut her mouth. Pleased that he’d reduced her to silence, he said, “Now, I am taking you to Miracle Mile, the fanciest shopping district in Coral Gables, if not Miami. So instead of groveling, you can lay waste to your wallet in the name of flashy, south Florida style!”

  “Spinneys don’t grovel,” she said.

  He burst out laughing. “Of course they don’t. What was I thinking?”

  “If you’re going to mock me, you can just let me out at the next corner.”

  Alejandro hit the auto-lock button and cranked up the Brazilian song on the radio while he searched for parking. “No, Kate, you won’t get away that easily. You’re going to buy new shoes.”

  He found a spot near the most expensive shoe store on the street, parked and tugged out his unwilling passenger. Then he kissed her soundly, right on the curb, a most disgusting display of public affection.

  Finally she pushed him off her. “No PDA!” she snapped.

  He smirked. Of course a public display of affection would bother her. Holding tightly to her hand, he dragged her into the shoe boutique. When a pretty Latina salesgirl came forward, he said, “We would like to see high-heeled sandals in a size…?” He looked at Kate.

  “Do they have to be high?”

  “Yes.”

  “Seven and a half,” she muttered, looking around her in dismay. “Oh, Christ. I’m in girlie hell. There are even matching purses here.”

  “Yes!” Alejandro said, eyeing her ragamuffin Hermès bag with disapproval.

  “No,” she said, clinging tight to it.

  “You will have to buy an evening bag for the party,” he said in severe tones.

  “Why? Who needs an evening bag? I can’t think of anything more useless.”

  “For your lipstick and compact, of course you must have one.”

  “I don’t wear makeup.”

  “Your keys, then. And cellphone.”

  “I just shove those in my bra or a pocket.”

  Alejandro ignored her and seized an exquisite champagne-colored sandal with tiny rhinestones embedded in the four-inch heels. “This one,” he told the salesgirl.

  “That’s not a shoe,” Kate objected. “It’s a piece of art.”

  Next he selected a bronze wedge-heeled sandal with an amber rhinestone on the toe. It was funky and cool and not at all her. She tried to explain that, but he flapped a hand at her.

  A gorgeous, strappy, emerald-green metallic with silver lining joined the pile, followed by a black satin mule and a delicate pink kitten-heel.

  “Nooooo,” Kate moaned. “Spinneys don’t wear pink.”

  When he’d chosen about eighteen pairs of shoes for her, he made her sit down and roll her khaki pants to the knees.

  The salesgirl took one incredulous look at Kate’s loafers before she sat down and began the fitting process.

  The champagne sandals were glorious on Kate, even though she couldn’t walk in them. He took her arm as she wobbled awkwardly to the mirror. “See, I look ridiculous,” she growled. “Like I borrowed the Queen’s dancing shoes.”

  “They are beautiful on you,” he said calmly.

  “They’re not! My toes stick out of them and look funny.” She wiggled them.

  “Dios mio, everyone’s toes stick out of sandals! That is the whole point of them. It’s far better for your toes to peek out of a sandal than out of the stitching on a mangled loafer.”

  “I can’t walk in them.”

  “Practice. See, we’re going to walk to the end of the boutique and back again. Put one foot in front of the other. Excellent…”

  “My hips are swaying like a hooker’s!” Kate complained. “I can’t wear these. My family would faint.” Then she stopped. Were fainting Spinneys necessarily a bad thing? Wasn’t she becoming Just Kate? Hmm…

  “We’ll take them,” Alejandro told the salesgirl.

  But before making her final decision, Kate made an unsteady leap for the box and checked the price tag.

  “Holy Mother of God! I’m not paying six hundred dollars for a pair of sandals.”

  “You are,” Alejandro said. “You won’t feel a thing, I promise. Are fantastically wealthy shampoo heiresses always this cheap?”

  “I’m not cheap! I’m frugal.”

  “Not today, you’re not. Now be quiet and try on the wedges.”

  “Wow, these are actually comfy,” Kate said in shocked tones, once she had them on her feet. “Amazing.”

  “Sí, señorita.” The salesgirl smiled at her. “And they are lovely with either skirts or trousers.” She stared fixedly at Kate’s baggy, shapeless pants and said no more.

  “But I don’t know if I can get used to metallic shoes or those little tie things around the ankles.”

  “You can,” Alejandro assured her. “We’ll take them. And look, Kate, they are only three hundred and eighty-five dollars. A big savings!”

  She turned green.

  “Now for the black suede peep-toe pumps.” He pulled the box over and handed one to her.

  “I’d only wear those for funerals.”

  “Nonsense! These are everyday shoes. You wear them with jeans and a studded black belt and a nice big hobo bag.”

  “Spinneys don’t wear black in the daytime.”

  Alejandro pretended to smack her. “You know, for someone who was so eager to be free of her family, you seem to like their rules a lot.”

  She frowned. Savagely, she thrust her feet into the black peep-toes. She took a few steps in them and cocked a hip in front of the mirror. “Fine. I’ll take them.” She looked at the salesgirl. “And do you have a belt?”

  “Sí, señorita. I have the perfect belt.” She returned with a monster black suede belt studded with hardware. The thing even cinched with a faux padlock.

  Kate stared at it as if it were a poisonous toad. She shut her eyes. “How do you wear that? I mean, what do you wear it with?”

  “Señorita, you let me call them at shop across the street. I have them bring you some nice stretch jeans and tops, okay?”

  “Sí,” Alejandro told her. “That would be wonderful. Gracias.”

  “Did she say stretch?” Kate asked faintly.

  “Yes.”

  “But Spin—”

  “To hell with what the Spinneys do! Are you your own woman, or are you a paper doll who takes orders from some unwritten WASP code?”

  She seemed to be staring at the gold chain around his neck. She looked repelled by it. Finally she blinked and looked away. “I’m…my own woman,” she said. “And I’m in Miami now, not Boston.”

  “Good.” He seized her and kissed her thoroughly once again. Once again, she pushed him away.

  “I’m my own woman, but I don’t like PDA!”

  Alejandro threw up his hands. “We’re not in public.”

  “No, we’re only on a security video, that’s all.”

  The door of the boutique across the street opened and a tiny blonde staggered over with an armload of clothing.

  She looked in disbelief at what Kate was wearing and shook her head. In rapid-fire Spanish, she delivered a fashion monologue of which Kate didn’t understand a word. Then the two salesgirls dragged her into the stockroom, since there was no dressing room in the shoe boutique.

  “Help!” Kate mouthed at Alejandro. He just waved goodbye to her and grinned. Then he relaxed in one of two leather chairs that were obviously there for the miserable men dragged in by their women. He took a little snooze.

  “Mira, mira, señor!” A few minutes later, their original salesgirl clapped her hands and he opened his eyes to see the new Kate. His jaw went slack.

  The new Kate wore long, faded stret
ch jeans with a little Chinese embroidery on one leg, plus the peep-toed skyscraper heels, a tiny, tight, black belly shirt and the black belt with all the hardware. They’d also decked her out in a wide silver cuff bracelet, modern silver earrings and a warm, cinnamon lipstick that brought out the green of her eyes and the red in her crazy, wiry hair. This they’d pinned back on one side with a rhinestone-studded barrette.

  She looked stunning. She looked smokin’ hot. She looked like the kind of chick who rode a Harley, delighted in cruelty to men and smoked a cigar while gambling the night away. Best of all, she didn’t look in the least bit available or cheap. Just plain sexy.

  “K-Kate?” he said.

  “Yup.” She still wobbled a little in the shoes, but the blonde from across the street said, “Mira, señorita. You extend your leg, like so. You use the heel for grace and for height, eh? It is not to be stumbled upon. Find your center of balance, yes? Then take even, smooth strides. Sí! Perfecto. You walk with me.” She took Kate’s arm and they sashayed down the length of the store and then sashayed back.

  Dios mio, the sight of Kate dressed like this was killing him. He wanted to throw her on the floor of the boutique and have his way with her, right that instant.

  He restrained himself. “We’ll take everything,” he said.

  Kate raised her eyebrows at him. “Oh we will, will we? You’re mighty free with my wallet, sport.”

  “Somebody has to be.” He remained unperturbed, turning to the salesgirls. “Now, what else have you got?”

  “Hey! I’m not buying any more than this. This is bad enough—it’s the equivalent of the average mortgage payment.”

  “Kate, you’ve agreed to buy several different pairs of shoes, so you need more than one pair of jeans and a shirt to go with them. Or are you going to wear those fabulous sandals with your Brooks Brothers’ men’s gear?”

  The salesgirls hustled her off to the back again, Kate muttering and complaining the whole way.

  This time, when they returned with her, she wore a bronze lamb-leather miniskirt with a skin-tight chocolate tank, no bra, and chocolate suede platform heels. They’d put gold dangly earrings on her, and a four-inch wide gold mesh bracelet encircled one thin wrist.

  Alejandro had to pick carpet fibers off his tongue after it dragged on the floor, especially since this time Kate vamped playfully in front of the mirror and slapped her tush for him.

  The salesgirls giggled. “Esta caliente, no?”

  He finally found his voice. “She’ll wear that one out when we leave.”

  “No, sport, I’ll wear you out.” Kate sent him a smoldering look and actually tossed her hair at him.

  The girls hauled her off to the back again, and she reappeared in a deep emerald-green velvet cocktail dress with an asymmetrical hemline that bared one knee but covered the other leg to mid-calf. Her skin glowed ivory against it, and they’d lined her eyes so they looked darker and more mysterious. The neckline of the dress was the showstopper, though: it plunged in a deep V to the top of her waist, held together under her breasts by only a copper filigree pin. She wore the metallic green strappy sandals with it, and they’d found a tiny bronze evening bag for her.

  Alejandro took a deep breath. “You look like a goddess,” he said simply.

  She flushed and fiddled with the bag before meeting his gaze again. “No need to go overboard, A. I’m just playing dress-up.”

  “I’ll buy that one for her, with the shoes and bag,” he said to the salesgirls. “Will you wrap that up separately?”

  “Alejandro, you can’t—do you know how much this—no. You are most certainly not buying this outfit for me. I forbid you.”

  “Pay no attention to her,” he said, digging out his wallet and producing a credit card. So it would take months to pay it off—who cared? She looked like a young empress. To him, it was imperative that she have the dress.

  “You know, sport, you really tick me off sometimes!” Kate said dangerously. “I can’t accept that from you. It’s not right. And I’m tired of being ordered around.” She turned to the salesgirls. “Let me make this clear to you. You swipe his card, and I won’t buy any of the rest of it. You add those items to my tab. Understand?”

  They blinked at her. They looked at him. They looked at each other. They mentally totaled up the thousands of dollars being spent in their respective stores. And they did as she told them.

  Alejandro’s blood boiled. It wasn’t that he blamed the girls. He blamed Kate. “You won’t allow me to give you a gift?” He asked the question in deceptively calm tones.

  “Alejo, it’s too much.”

  “Isn’t that for me to decide, not you?”

  “No. It’s one thing to buy me a scarf or a silver bracelet. But this—it’s just not right.”

  “Ah. The heiress won’t accept a present from the peasant. Why, because you might feel obligated?”

  “Stop it! This has nothing to do with that.”

  “This is your once-in-a-lifetime fling with a man who wears a gold chain around his neck, eh? Better keep it casual. I’m just your cheap hunk, a low-class boy toy, a temporary pet. You wouldn’t want to owe me anything.”

  “What?” Kate looked shaken. “What are you talking about? I don’t think of you as a pet!”

  “Oh, so you’re serious about this relationship?”

  “Serious? We don’t even know each other that well!”

  His anger and hurt grew. “That’s what I thought.”

  “Alejandro, you’re not being reasonable—”

  He glowered down at her from his superior height. “Oh, but I’m Latin, remember? We’re not supposed to be reasonable. According to your WASP stereotypes, we’re hotheads, so I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.” He opened the shop’s door and stalked out.

  Through the corner of his eye, he saw Kate dig a credit card out of her scuffed wallet and hand it to the salesgirls. Then she followed him outside.

  “Don’t put Wendell’s words into my mouth!”

  “Same family. Same attitude.”

  “That’s so unfair! What is your problem?” she shouted.

  “I don’t have a problem,” he retorted.

  “Yes, you do. You’re full of attitude right now, just because I won’t let you buy me something. You are so…” She searched for words. “You’re over the top! It’s like you don’t know boundaries or limits. You’re too big, and you’re too gorgeous and you’re too persuasive. You’re too good a lover, and you’re too macho and you’re just too much!”

  He just stared at her, the crazy woman. She stood there in the green velvet dress with only one shoe on, her hair flying every which way. Sparks shot from her eyes and spots of red burned high on those miraculous cheekbones. She was furious and he didn’t understand why.

  “New Englanders are understated, and we don’t like taking extravagant gifts. I won’t apologize for it! You, on the other hand—you’re like a tall, dark, handsome steamroller. I have one lousy cup of coffee with you and before I know it I have a pig, and a screaming orgasm and a leather miniskirt! You’re just…out of control.”

  Alejandro grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her roughly. Then he said, “That’s a load of mierda. You’re just upset because you’re too under control.” And then he turned on his heel and walked away.

  14

  IAM NOTtoo under control! I’m engaged in releasing my inner rebel. I just don’t always know where to start. Kate looked at all the shopping bags rattling against her in the back of a cab and felt ill. I bought all this fancy stuff, didn’t I? I left Boston and moved all the way down here by myself. I have a pig in my condo. I am working on being Just Kate. And when I get up the nerve, I will dance on that damned table, too. It just has to be the right time and place.

  Alejandro was a jerk. He’d walked away and left her by herself in retail hell, hadn’t he? In the company of those tiny, bosomy creatures who would look chic and sexy even if garbed in white kitchen trash bags with banana peels on
their heads.

  He’d abandoned her to their evildoing, which included dragging her to the custom cosmetics place next door, of all things! Yet another tiny, bosomy creature on spindly heels had chattered at her rapidly in Spanish while she custom-blended gook in a bottle for her face. Then she’d attacked her with it, as well as with various brushes, vials and pencils. She’d smeared colors not found in nature onto Kate’s face and charged her close to four hundred dollars for a whole bag of makeup that she would never remember how to use.

  By the time Kate had staggered in her new clothes and new face to the waiting taxi, she was shell-shocked. The three tiny señoritas smiled and waved, having had the time of their lives. Kate just felt exhausted.

  She picked up her car and drove home, horrified when a trucker honked his horn at her and a college kid in the lane next to her whistled and then waggled his tongue between two fingers. “Sicko!” she yelled.

  When she arrived at her condo she waved at old Mr. Landry, who lived on her floor, and bent into the back of the Mercedes to fish out her shopping bags.

  She heard a sickening crunch of metal on metal and pulled her head out to find that old Mr. Landry had driven his Bonneville right into another parked car.

  Kate tottered over on her high heels to make sure he was okay. He glared at her, his lazy eye rolling up into its socket. “Get away from me. This is your fault, missy!”

  She gaped at him. “My fault?”

  “All gussied up like a five-hunnert-dollar hooker. What’s a man to do, huh? Mincing around, a-lookin’ like you kin suck a golf ball through a garden hose—”

  “Mister Landry!”

  “Your fault, I’m a-tellin’ you.”

  “Tell that to your insurance company.”

  “I will!”

  She gaped at him. “Don’t you ever speak to me again, you disgusting old fart.” Kate whirled and stalked back to her car. Unbelievable.

  Laden with her shopping bags, she stormed the main door of her building in her high heels and tottered past the concierge desk. The uniformed attendant behind it called out. “Madam? I’m sorry but you’ll need to check in here, please.”