Cassie got up to make them a couple of sandwiches for lunch. “Speaking of King Kong Dong, or dongs in general, have you met your new neighbor yet?”
Kate didn’t answer right away, drawing a curious stare from Cassie. In spite of how close they were, Kate hadn’t told Cassie about her interlude with Jack at the Rialto. So she couldn’t exactly explain what had happened the night before when she’d discovered he was really J. J. Winfield. “We’ve met.”
“And?”
Kate got up to wash lettuce for the sandwiches.
“Come on, what gives? Aren’t you going to make him your love slave, then trample all over his heart with the heels of your six-inch-high, slut-puppy boots?”
“I don’t own slut-puppy boots.”
“You sell them.”
“I sell a lot of things that I don’t own or use myself,” she said as she sipped.
“Aw, gee. Here I figured you gave a personal testimonial with every dildo, clit ring and butt plug you peddle.”
Kate laughed so hard some of her margarita spilled from the corner of her lips. “You are as bad as Armand.”
“So tell me about the Winfield prince,” Cassie said.
“I don’t know about Jack—J.J. He’s not what I expected.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning he might be more than I can handle.”
Cassie lifted a brow. There probably wasn’t a man alive who her cousin couldn’t handle. But Kate wasn’t Cassie.
“Maybe I’d better start out a little easier. Focus on some of my other goals. Like the shop. Or Angela and Darren.”
“Hmm, yeah, I forgot about them. I saw Angela one day, walking out to her car. She and her mom live up the street.”
“Please tell me she’s fat.”
“Sorry, hon. She looks pretty good. Still looks like a total bitch, but not a Jenny Craig-bound one.”
Rats.
“What about Darren?”
“Works at a car dealership and lives downtown in an apartment over the Tea Room. Did you know he and Angela were married for a while right after high school? The rumor mill says she got knocked up on prom night. They married that summer. Then when she lost the baby, he divorced her and went into the army.”
Kate winced. “Maybe I should thank her for stealing him on prom night.” She couldn’t imagine how her life might have ended up if she’d been the pregnant teen. Probably she’d be living here, bitter and sour with a poochy belly, saggy breasts and four kids who looked like moon-faced Darren clinging to her skirts.
Kate met Cassie’s eye, knowing she was thinking along the same lines. They exchanged shaky smiles. “Here’s to what didn’t happen to us on prom night,” Kate said softly.
Cassie nodded. “Hear, hear.”
* * *
JACK LUCKED OUT and arrived at his mother’s house after she’d left for her Saturday hair appointment. Closing himself in his father’s office—to the chagrin of Leonardo the bulldog—he spent two hours balancing bank statements, sorting out documents. He heard his sister Angela moving around, once stopping to have a long phone conversation in the next room.
He didn’t get his sister. Angela was pretty and had been given every advantage. She’d been the apple of their parents’ eye, and had once had a genuine sweetness to her personality. Sure, she was spoiled. She’d shown signs of that, even as a toddler. But at least before, when she’d been a kid, she’d had an infectious laugh and a beautiful smile. In the fifteen years he’d been gone, she’d lost them both. Probably three failed marriages and two miscarriages could do that to a person.
Resolving to get along better with her, he forced a look of welcome to his face when she walked into the office. “Hi.”
“You busy?”
He nodded and rubbed his weary eyes. “Dad left a mess.”
Her laugh could only be described as bitter. “Yeah. As usual.” She sat on a chair next to the window. “I don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind and plan to stay here.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ang. I don’t know how you can stand it. I can’t breathe in this place.”
“Even after he died Dad still managed to drive you away.”
Jack pushed his chair back. “What are you talking about?”
“I mean, you took off fifteen years ago because of him. Because of how he pressured you to follow in his footsteps.”
“Most fathers do.”
Angela continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “And as soon as it looks like you’re going to come back, you find out about his dirty little secret and won’t stay here now, either.”
Jack shook his head. “It’s more complicated than that. How did you find out about Dad and Edie, anyway?”
She glanced out the window. “I saw them kissing once. Not long after you’d gone away to college.”
She’d been thirteen. He swallowed, hard. “What’d you do?”
“Nothing. I didn’t confront him, or tell Mother, or anybody else. I was afraid if she found out, they’d get a divorce and I’d be shuffled back and forth between them forever.”
A wave of guilt washed over him as he acknowledged he’d left her here without an ally in his hurry to escape from home. “I’m sorry, Angela. But maybe now it’s time to move on. Have you thought about getting out of here, too?”
“I’ve been dying to move out, get my own place downtown, but Mother plays the guilt card whenever I mention it.”
“I meant, maybe it’s time to get out of Pleasantville.”
“I can’t. I don’t want to leave him…I mean, leave here.”
Him? He didn’t think Angela was seeing anyone, though she’d been divorced from her third husband for over a year.
She stood abruptly. “I have to go. I have a nail appointment. Be sure to lock up when you leave, okay? Mother doesn’t trust Sophie to secure the house.” Her jaw clenched.
“After all, she’s not nearly as trustworthy as Edie was.”
Judging by the way she spat out the other woman’s name, Jack surmised his sister had not been able to forgive and forget.
As Angela left the room his parents’ ever-hopeful dog, Leonardo, slunk in and strolled over to the desk. At Leonardo’s longing glance at his jeans-clad leg, Jack shot him a suspicious glare. “Dog, how many years is it gonna take for you to figure out you’ve got no balls?”
Leonardo gave him a sheepish glance from his wrinkled face. Walking around in circles once or twice, he appeared to be looking for something—or someone. He finally curled up at Jack’s feet and looked up at him with sad eyes.
“Okay,” Jack said with a sigh. “I guess you miss him, too.”
A half hour later he straightened up to leave, determined to get out before his mother got back. After making sure the mutt had enough water, he locked up and headed for his father’s pickup truck, which he’d been driving during his stay.
As he drove down the street, he glanced toward old Mr. Miller’s house and saw a shapely brunette in a red tank top trying to drag a big mattress across the driveway.
He immediately stopped the truck. “Kate, are you trying to break your back? Put that down.”
She dropped the end of the mattress and frowned at him. “You distracted me. Do you know how long it took to tug that thing out of the garage?”
He trotted across the driveway to her side. “I thought your cousin was going to help you.”
“She is. She’s had a bunch of phone calls to deal with. Problems with her agent.”
“And Miss Have-To-Do-It-Now can’t wait for her?”
“I’m not helpless. I’ve gotten a bunch of other stuff by myself.” She gestured toward her SUV, which already held a couple of chairs. And, judging by the upraised legs that nearly reached the interior roof, a small kitchen table.
He couldn’t believe she’d done it all alone. “I suppose you plan to unload all this stuff without help when you get back home, too?”
She scuffed the toe of her sneaker on the driveway and mumbled, “
Well, I kinda figured you’d be back sooner or later.”
“Back to help you unload it, or to make you another ice pack and take care of you again after you slip a disc?”
Wrong thing to say. They both instantly remembered how he’d taken care of her the night before. Awareness hummed between them, as always, now not below the surface, but right out in the open again.
She bit the corner of her lip. “Look,” she finally said, “I’m almost done, are you going to help me or criticize me?”
He glanced at the open hatch and the mattress. “Honey, I hate to tell you this, but you’ve got a size problem here. I don’t think something this big is going to fit in there.”
“You sound like a conceited teenage boy about to get laid for the first time.”
Not recognizing the sultry voice of the woman who’d spoken, he turned and saw a shapely blonde standing just behind them on the driveway. She had her head cocked to the side and her hand on one hip, smiling wickedly. With her eye-popping build, sunny-blond hair and outrageous words, he immediately assumed she was the cousin.
Frowning, he ignored her comment. “I hope your call was important, since your cousin nearly gave herself a hernia out here.”
The blonde’s brow shot up. She immediately turned to Kate. “Katey, I told you to wait for me. Good grief, how’d you carry all that stuff by yourself?”
Kate didn’t answer. She was too busy looking back and forth between Jack and Cassie, a confused frown scrunching her brow.
Jack grabbed the end of the mattress. “Let me throw this in the truck and take it for you, Kate. I’m going home anyway.”
“Home?” the blonde—Cassie—asked. Then understanding crossed her face. “Oh, my, you’re J. J. Winfield, aren’t you?”
He swallowed a groan. “Jack. Jack Winfield.”
The blonde didn’t reply, just looked him over, head to toe, very intently. Smiling, she extended her hand. “Hi, Jack. I’m Cassie. The truck’s a great idea. Can you take a few other things, too?”
“Sure,” he said, still wondering why Kate looked so befuddled and hadn’t said a single word since her cousin had come out of the house. “Is that all right with you, Kate?”
After she nodded, he hoisted the queen-size mattress up with both hands. He saw Cassie’s eyes widen as she stared at his arms, chest and shoulders. As he walked away, he heard her whisper, “Too much to handle, indeed. But oh, Kate, wouldn’t you have fun trying?”
They loaded up his truck with the few remaining pieces of furniture and were finished within a half hour of his arrival. Cassie disappeared into the house again, after thanking Jack once more for his help.
“Are you heading back now? Or do you want me to drive this stuff back, then wait for you to get there to unload it?”
“Let me say goodbye to Cassie and I’ll come back so we can unload it this afternoon.” She turned to go into the house, then paused. “Jack? Thanks a lot for stopping to help. I really do appreciate it.”
He shrugged. “Just being neighborly.”
She glanced up and down the block, at the manicured lawns, the gated driveways that were filled with expensive cars. “Yeah. Right. I’m sure there were bunches of other neighbors lacing up their deck shoes to come out and help when you stopped. I bet they’re still peering out their windows, waiting for the chance to lend a hand.”
He followed her stare, figuring she was probably right, but not admitting it. “It’s not all bad here.”
“I guess Cassie likes it. But I wouldn’t be able to stand the quiet sense of knowing everyone on the block is watching every move you make.” She brushed an errant, damp strand of hair off her brow. “It’d be like living in a goldfish bowl, some big fat cat always waiting to pounce on you if you leap out of the safe waters where you belong.”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what it was like growing up.”
Their eyes met. She looked surprised that he agreed.
As for Jack, he thought it remarkable how quickly Kate had nailed what his childhood had been like on this block. In this town.
“Can I venture a guess that living on Pansy Lane was something like a fishbowl, too?”
Her slow nod was his only answer.
He reached out to brush away the blowing strand of hair again. His fingers connected with her temple, sending heat through his body. Heat that had absolutely nothing to do with the blazing sunshine overhead.
“Then I guess it’s a good thing we both like to live a little dangerously.”
* * *
WHEN THEY GOT BACK to the duplex, Kate first went inside to check the power, then leaned out to give him a thumbs-up. “Yes! Houston, we have ignition.”
“Good, now you can take a shower in your own bathroom tonight,” he muttered.
They unloaded the truck, making several trips.
“So,” she asked as they carried some chairs into the kitchen. “Did you get a lot done at your mother’s house today?”
She seemed to be making an effort to be polite, social and absolutely impersonal. He followed her lead. “Barely made a dent. My father had accounts all over the state, with at least a dozen banks. He owned property I didn’t know about, held mortgages my mother didn’t even know about. I haven’t even gotten to the stuff in a file marked Private that I found in his desk drawer.”
“Well, if you need any help, I do have some accounting background.” At his look of surprise, she hurried on. “What? I mean, I do owe you one for helping me today.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said with a smile. “Though, maybe I’ll choose the way you repay me.”
They left the queen-size mattress for last. It would be the trickiest, since it had to go up the narrow staircase to the bedroom. “Hope you sleep really well to make it worth lugging this thing all over town,” he said as they hoisted the thing through the doorway. They dropped it right on the floor as Kate hadn’t bothered with a bed frame.
“At least it’s not a twin,” she said with a smile, obviously referring to the way he spent his own nights. “Nice and roomy.”
He frowned. “You’re not planning on sharing it, are you?”
“Huh?” She looked truly puzzled and he felt like an idiot for his instant of jealousy. “Wait a second.” She pointed an index finger at him. “You want to know if another man is going to be staying over here occasionally.”
He crossed his arms, not saying anything. She chuckled. “Uh, I don’t think so, Jack. In spite of what you might think, given the way I acted on the day we met, I’m not a bed hopper.” She paused. “I don’t think I could even be called a bed crawler, these days.”
Good.
“Not that it’s any of your business.”
“No, of course not.” Damn right it was his business.
“If I did choose to bring someone here, you’d have absolutely no say in the matter,” she continued, almost challenging him to deny it.
He stepped closer, tipping her chin up with his index finger until she met his eye. “I wouldn’t say a word.” Her lashes lowered as she tried to look down. “I can promise I wouldn’t say anything to him as I threw him out the window, Kate.”
She bit her lip, looking both confused and a little bit pleased. Unable to resist, he bent to kiss her mouth. Lightly. Playfully.
“What was that for?” She brought her shaking fingers to her mouth when he ended the kiss and stepped away.
“Just to remind you.”
“Remind me of what?”
He walked toward the door, but glanced over his shoulder.
“That I’m the only man you want.”
8
KATE DECIDED to spend her first few days in Pleasantville devoting all her thoughts to the new store. And none to her love life, such as it was. That didn’t count her dreams, of course, over which she had no control.
Jack starred in them every night, damn it.
On Saturday night, after Jack had helped her unload some furniture at the duplex and given her the playful ki
ss that had left her reeling, she went downtown to see the shop for the first time. Cassie and her high school helpers had done a great job. Sure, there were some lighting problems, but the old dressing room area was perfect, with lots of mirrors so customers could get addicted to Armand’s luxurious lingerie. And the store had adequate air-conditioning and plenty of display shelves, with discreet alcoves for some of their more risqué items. If this store were in some other town, she could envision it thriving.
Kate and Cassie enjoyed eating pizza, listening to loud music, drinking wine and examining sex toys until late Saturday night. At least until the sheriff, Sean Taggart, showed up.
As soon as Kate saw him, she understood why Cassie got such a strange look on her face whenever his name came up. The man was pure, rugged manna from tough-guy heaven. Maybe not movie-star gorgeous, like Jack, but with his lean body, thick brown hair and dangerous smile, she could see why Cassie might find him distracting. So distracting that Kate immediately decided to leave the two of them alone. After all, it wasn’t often she saw her cousin nearly blushing around a man.
It also wasn’t every day she came across a man who did not turn into a tongue-tied, drooling idiot around her cousin. Jack hadn’t. On Saturday, when Cassie had been at her Cassie-est, all blond, leggy and saucy, he’d barely glanced in her direction.
She hadn’t known whether to kiss him or to take his pulse to see if he was still alive and breathing. In any case, she could almost love him for it. “Love him?” Insane. She barely liked him.
Well, she conceded, that was a big lie. She did like him, she’d liked him from the minute they met, in spite of who his father had been. He was charming and sexy, playful and self-confident. She liked that he didn’t swagger, and he felt no need to play tough guy. He was a flirt, a man who liked women. Right now he liked her, she knew it, in spite of his failure to call. She could see the heat in his eyes when he looked at her. He wanted her every bit as much as he had their first day. But something was holding him back.
If his last name were different, and if he’d come up with a reasonable excuse for not calling her, she might have tried to find out what was stopping him. And maybe she would have tried to change his mind.
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