Then He Kissed Me

by Christie Ridgway

  As he lunged forward, Stevie leapt between the two men. The flat of her hand met Jack’s chest. His furious energy surged up her arm, shocking her system, electrifying her with the piece of knowledge that had been hovering for days.

  Emerson’s defection hadn’t made her immune to danger. Sex like a man wasn’t going to save her either. Jack was a menace to her, because if she didn’t tread carefully, very, very carefully, she could fall in love with him.

  Then He Kissed Me

  16

  ************************************************************************************************

  At Stevie’s touch, the ravening beast inside Jack paused in its forward rush. “Get out of the way,” he spit out.

  She didn’t move. “I know you’re upset about your sister.”

  His sister? At the moment he wasn’t thinking about his sister. He was thinking about that dumbass hay-head, Emerson Platt, who had told Stevie she wasn’t good enough. The mother of my children can’t be a limo driver with a high school education and a single business course under her, belt. He might be a careless man, but he couldn’t just let that go.

  Stevie blinked at him. “Are you growling?”

  “Get out of the way.” His eyes on Emerson, Jack wrapped his hands around her upper arms, preparing to move her himself.

  “Jack -”

  “Hey, a party!” a cheery voice called out. A small woman with curly blond hair stepped into the kitchen. “Why didn’t anyone call?”

  Stevie’s head whipped around. “Man. What are you doing here?”

  “Gil told me -”

  “Gil again.” Stevie frowned.

  Jack took the opportunity of her distraction to steer her in the direction of the other woman. “Go to your friend. Go call Gil. Just go away.”

  “No.” The stubborn woman dug her feet into the worn linoleum. “This is between me and Emerson.”

  “I’m between you and Emerson.” Jack looked over to see that the other man had sunk into a chair at the kitchen table. His head was in his hands. “Get up, you asshole, and take what you have coming.”

  “Hey, Stevie,” Man said, again in that jolly tone. “Looks like a guy’s fighting for you.”

  Stevie rolled her eyes. “This is about Roxanne.”

  Jack felt another spurt of anger. “This isn’t about -”

  “Roxanne,” Emerson groaned. He yanked on his hair, then slid lower in his seat. “I’ve screwed up everything.”

  “I’m going to screw you to the wall,” Jack said, surging forward again.

  Stevie held him back, using all her tough-girl strength. “Jack,” she said, her voice urgent. “Let me do this. Let me talk to him. I can fix this for your sister.”

  “This isn’t about my sister!” This was about Stevie, his tough girl with the soft heart of gold who’d been willing to stay engaged to a man with a sullied reputation.

  “Okay, okay. I understand,” she soothed, but he was certain she didn’t. Still, when she cupped his cheeks between her palms, he was forced to meet her eyes. “Give me a few minutes. If you’re not satisfied when I’m done, then you can break his face.”

  “Stevie…

  “Please.”

  “Merde.” Her sloe eyes were sending out a spell. He hadn’t done anything for any woman besides his sister in ten years. “Fine.”

  “Step outside with Man. Just for a few minutes.” Her gaze sought out her friend. “You’ll keep Jack company?”

  The other woman came forward to link her arm in his. “Nice to meet you. I’m Man Friday, friend and free spirit.”

  Once outside, drawing cold air into his lungs didn’t cool his simmering fury. He crossed his arms over his chest and cast his glance back toward the kitchen door. Stevie’s voice traveled through it, into the night. “Face it, Emerson. You’re a chronic second-thoughter.”

  Man smothered a laugh as she sat on the bottom step. “God, she’s got that right. I think it comes from his middle-of-the-road mentality.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Guy would make a decision, then agonize over it for weeks. The color of his tuxedo shirt for prom. His college choice. In high school, whether he should run track or play tennis in the spring. Imagine going to the ice cream store with him as a kid. Thirty-one flavors might as well be thirty thousand. I was shocked when he settled on your sister so quickly.”

  It didn’t make Jack feel any better. “You’ve all known each other a long while.”

  “Oh, yeah.” She half turned to smile up at him. For the first time, he noticed her round cheeks, her round eyes, the unabashed Kewpie doll sexiness that made a man want to smile back. Her gaze traveled from the top of his head to the toes of his shoes. “That’s why we lap up fresh blood.”

  He might have laughed at her last remark and the flirtatiously wiggled brows that went along with it if he wasn’t so wound up. He might have flirted back, asked the Kewpie doll out for a drink, and then driven away from all the drama in the Baci farmhouse.

  The Jack Parini he’d looked at in the mirror the last ten years would have done just that. His hand slid into the pocket of his jeans to locate his car keys - only to encounter Stevie’s “treasure” key instead. “Damn woman,” he muttered.

  She’d let him get dusty but wouldn’t allow him the dust-up he needed. He wanted to murder Emerson.

  “Huh,” Man said, still looking him over.

  He frowned down at her. “Huh, what?”

  “You’ll do. It surprises me, given what I’ve heard and read, but” - she lifted her hands - “there it is.”

  “I’ll do - what?” He frowned at her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  She flashed him those cutie dimples again. “I gave you my best good-time smolder, and you resisted. It rarely happens, you know.”

  “Sorry if I insulted you.” He glanced back at the kitchen. “I have other things on my mind.”

  She bounced on the bottom step, smiled again. “I know.”

  “I should be in there pounding some sense into that son of a bitch,” he burst out. “The things he said to her…”

  Man’s head tilted. “You don’t think she can take care of herself?”

  He stared down at that key in his hand. “She’s perfected her independent act, but she shouldn’t always have to take care of herself,” he muttered. “Everybody needs somebody sometime.”

  His head jerked up. His gaze met Man’s amused eyes. “Tell me I didn’t just start talking in song lyrics.”

  She shrugged. “Sinatra? Dean Martin? Maybe it was Ann-Margret.”

  He groaned. It only made it worse that he was thinking in Vegas-style song lyrics. His hand tightened on the key. “Run away with me, Man. Let’s go somewhere, have a few drinks, have a few laughs.”

  She was already shaking her head. “It’s too late for that, pal. It’s too late for you.”

  He wasn’t listening, just as he wasn’t really interested in going anywhere with Man. He wanted back inside that house, where he could -

  What?

  Find Stevie’s treasure? Slay her dragons?

  Next you’re going to imagine you’re her fucking prince, a scornful voice said in his head. And you, Prince charming - but - Careless, have nothing to offer anyone but a sordid reputation and a need to leave a light on at night.

  Her murmuring voice made it through the door again. He couldn’t hear the exact words, only the tone. Unruffled. Calm. Strong.

  But beneath all that, he knew she was vulnerable and romantic. Her mind was full of fantasies of ghosts and gold and silver. She held tight to dreams she pretended not to believe in, and the knowledge of all that was touching the heart Jack thought he’d left behind in the dark a decade ago.

  The mother of my children can’t be a limo driver with a high school education and a single business course under her belt.

  How could Emerson have said such a thing? But the man was regretting the words now, and Jack didn’t know how his remors
e might work on Stevie’s soft center. Jesus, might she take her old boyfriend back?

  Careless Jack didn’t care to stay to see that, he decided, shooting to his feet. Tossing the key to Man, he jogged down the steps.

  *****

  Emerson knocked and the door to Roxanne’s room immediately opened. “There,” he said, and his nerves were clattering against each other like cymbals. “That’s part of what’s wrong. Not only am I one of the ‘lucky spermers,’ but women are always making things too easy for me.”

  Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail and her lips were colorless. Even as still as carved marble, she was beautiful to him. “I beg your pardon?”

  God, he was going about this all wrong, but with his pulse clanging in his ears and that infernal noise his nerves were making, he couldn’t think worth a damn. Still, he had to try to explain himself or he’d never take a full breath again. “Can I come in?”

  She hesitated. “Would that fall under the category of making things too easy for you?”

  “I suppose,” he admitted. “But with a wedding scheduled in ten days, we’re going to have to address some salient issues.”

  He was talking like his mother, the senator. Emerson shoved his hands through his hair and wondered if his life and his locks would ever run smooth again. “Please, Rox,” he said softly.

  The door widened. Steeling himself, he stepped inside. Unlike times before, there was no evidence of wedding in the room. No seating charts, no scribbled vows, not even the box of wedding favors that had sat in one corner the last time he was there.

  He went clammy with a cold sweat.

  Turning away from her, he closed his eyes. “Name your favorite color.”

  “Teal.” She hesitated. “Am I supposed to know yours?”

  “Go ahead and ask me.” He turned back to look at her.

  Her legs folded beneath her as she took a seat at one corner of the sofa. “What’s your favorite color?”

  “I like beige. But then I think of gray and that’s nice, too. The color of the Lexus I had before the white BMW was nice. It was a slate blue that I consider attractive without being too garish. And then there’s -”

  “You have a terrible time committing.”

  “Yes.” It was a relief that she’d figured that out. “Exactly. Stevie says I’m a chronic second-thoughter.”

  “You’ve spoken to Stevie.”

  “She wouldn’t take me back.”

  Roxanne jerked as if he’d slapped her. Color rose up her neck. “And I thought you just said women are always making things too easy for you.”

  He lifted a hand, let it drop. “You didn’t just happen to run into me at that coffee place near the family house in San Francisco.”

  The red color on her face burned brighter. “Remember that first night we met? You said you were a creature of habit. ‘Coffee at the same Peet’s every morning, seven A.M.’ You even mentioned which street, which corner.”

  “You told Stevie you stole me from her, and it was more intentional than I believed before.”

  Roxanne bit her bottom lip. “Fine. Though I knew you had a girlfriend, I also knew where you bought your coffee every morning. So I managed to run into you there because I wanted you.”

  When he didn’t speak, she bit her lip again, and then continued. “Getting you was the first time I took real charge of my life and my … desires in a decade. Maybe I should apologize for that.”

  He waited.

  She shook her head. “I won’t apologize to you for it. I’ve already told Stevie I was sorry for how she was hurt. But I’m not sorry about going out on a limb for what I wanted. You could have said no. You could have brushed me off.”

  And he hadn’t. She’d been there, acting, he realized now, surprised to find him in line waiting for his morning beverage, black, two sugars. They’d talked for two hours and both had called in late to work. He’d asked her out for dinner. She’d accepted.

  Knowing that he was seeing someone else - that they had a relationship - had seemed … insignificant in the face of the emotion sweeping over him every time he was with the pretty, perfect princess.

  Not so perfect.

  He reached into his pocket and drew out the frog candle that she’d almost taken from his office. It sat in the cup of his palm for a moment, then he set it on the coffee table in front of her.

  She stared at it. “I don’t want - or need - it at this moment,” she said. “I’ve gone back to the counselor in San Francisco who helped me overcome my impulses a few years ago. I think he can help me again. I hope he can help me again.”

  “That’s good, Roxanne…” His voice trailed away as he saw her begin to tug at the ring on her left finger. He went clammy for a second time. “Is that what you want?”

  She hesitated. “What kind of politician can have a wife who might steal a fork at the next fund-raising luncheon?”

  He noticed she hadn’t answered his question - and that the ring was still in place. “I wonder … when we decided to step up the campaign for congress - is that when things started to spin out of control for you?”

  She shrugged. “What does it matter?”

  It mattered because he disliked the idea of her hurting in any way - and he’d been doing that to her himself lately. “I looked at you, Rox, and I saw someone perfect - perfect, but fragile. From the beginning that scared me. I wasn’t sure I deserved your perfection and I also worried I could harm you in some thoughtless way.”

  “I’m not a piece of china.”

  “No. But I was a little afraid of you - and for you, I guess.”

  She looked away. “Then when I confessed how flawed I am, you came to the realization you didn’t want damaged goods.”

  “No.” He strode to the coffee table and sat down, facing her. “Then I ran scared because I doubted my ability to be your strength when you needed me - selfish ass that I am.”

  “Emerson…”

  “It didn’t make me love you any less, Rox. You’ve got to believe that. I only wish you had told me sooner.”

  “I didn’t want you to know my weakness…” Roxanne looked down at her lap.

  “But without knowing it, Rox, I couldn’t know you - and I couldn’t know how much I never want to be without you in my life.”

  Her head came up. The blue of her eyes was magnified by the tears swimming in them. Last week he would have found them unnerving. Her vulnerability had made him run to Stevie earlier today. But now he stood his ground, firm in the knowledge that there was no escaping his feelings for her. He didn’t want to escape them.

  His hand reached into his pants pocket and he pulled out a Tiffany-blue box. He held it out to her.

  As she reached for it, he noticed that both their hands were trembling. Emerson Platt, Mr. Middle-of-the-Road, did not feel the least bit centered when it came to the love of his life. He was starting to get accustomed to the idea.

  Roxanne lifted from soft cotton a gold bracelet. Hanging from the eighteen-carat links was a puffy heart, encrusted in diamonds. He saw her swallow.

  “I don’t know what this means,” she said, dropping the bracelet back into the box. “I don’t know if it’s right for us to be together when I have this problem that can impact your future.”

  “You’re my future.” It was the single thing he was focused on now. “From that moment when I turned to see that Star Wars princess beside me, somehow I knew.”

  “You were with Stevie then.”

  “Not a proud moment … and it only reminds me” - he blew out a breath“ - that I’m flawed, too.”

  For a second time, her fingers closed over the bracelet. She lifted it from its satin nest as her gaze met his. Then she held it out to him, silently asking for his help in fastening it.

  He scooted closer to take the piece of jewelry and then closed it in his fist. “Mine,” he said.

  Her eyebrows rose.

  “It symbolizes my heart, Rox. And I have this idea … maybe it won’t be t
his easy, but can we see if every time you feel the urge to steal something that instead you take the bracelet from me? Because I gave my heart up to you long ago, and you’re most welcome to it.”

  She made a funny sound between a cry and a laugh and launched herself into his arms. He laughed, too, and pressed his face against the candy-floss softness of her hair. “Princess, you and me, that’s more important than anything. Do you believe that?”

  She nodded against his throat.

  “Ah, it’s so good,” he said, and kissed the top of her head. “I don’t have to think anymore. And rethink. My favorite color? You. My favorite flavor? You. My favorite woman?”

  He took her by the shoulders and held her away so he could look into her eyes. “Always and forev -”

  She pressed her hand to his mouth. “No. Don’t say that. Don’t make that promise.”

  He pulled her hand away and ran his thumb over her knuckles. “You’re wearing my ring,” he reminded her.

  “And I want it there,” she said. “But as for ‘forever’ and that wedding we have scheduled … let’s just table the discussion for now.”

  “But…” The stubborn look on her face made him stop the flow of words. His sweet princess was showing that same streak of ruthlessness that had sent her to Peet’s one morning months ago.

  He sighed. “What do we say to our families?” Though his nerves were no longer clanging, his future was far from settled, it seemed. “When will you decide -”

  “I’ll let you know.” She held his gaze, clearly resolute on this.

  And Emerson discovered he was smiling. He didn’t know why … unless it was the knowledge that Roxanne Parini hadn’t thrown him over … and that she was going to be the one woman who wouldn’t make it easy on him.

  Then He Kissed Me

  17

  ************************************************************************************************

  Stevie watched as Liam and Kohl faced off, the tension between them reminiscent of two elks preparing to clash antlers. One of the attractions, she decided, to hanging out with men was that their stupid testosterone antics made her feel genius by comparison. Wearing her lucky ripped jeans and her bleach-stained sweatshirt, she perched on the back of a leather couch in the Bennetts’ spacious second-floor game room while the two men hashed out the terms of their upcoming game of darts.