by Annie Dean
Day after tomorrow? “That should work."
She managed to make small talk for a few more minutes, and then he finally left. Politely, she saw him out and then stood on the shadowed corredor, enjoying the wind on her skin. Addie felt her nerves twitching, still crackling with unspent sexual energy. Somehow it didn't seem right to go back upstairs, tap on the door, and ask the man if he minded her climbing back on for a few.
"You sure you know what you're doing, Addie?"
How the hell did a man so big manage to move so quietly? Her heart thumped unsteadily as she tried to decide whether to play dumb. Over the last few months, she'd wondered how much Manu knew. Guess I'm about to find out.
"What do you mean?” Suddenly tired, she dropped into a wooden sling chair. She didn't look at him, turning her face toward the crushed diamond look of the night sky.
Manu lowered himself with care, the whites of his eyes gleaming in the moonlight. He studied her for a moment in silence until she felt compelled to return his regard. His face fell in heavy, somber lines.
"This man will be trouble, you know this. You should be trying to get rid of him. You can't hope to keep your secret if he stays."
She sighed. “How long have you known?"
Her brother-in-law folded his arms. “The question is disrespectful, Addie. I'm not like your father, blind to everything that goes on around me."
"No, Manu, you most certainly are not."
Sometimes he saw more than she wanted. Even without giving details about her enterprise, she knew Manu would disapprove. It conspired against someone else's hopes and dreams, a service that enabled people to deceive. That's me, she thought with a stab of pain. The Queen of Lies. Fast Eddie taught me well.
She wanted to ask how much he knew, but he couldn't possess the full picture or he'd be furious. So at a guess, he probably just knew she was doing something online to earn money, something Sean Duncan had come to check on. And she wouldn't give either of them a scintilla more.
"So what do you plan to do?” he asked gravely.
"I'm going to keep him distracted until he goes home.” Hearing it spoken out loud made it sound so unsavory.
Manu sat forward in his chair, reaching for her hands. His palms felt large as baseball gloves, wrapped around her fingers. “I won't let you."
His words inspired a sudden surge of warmth. Addie loved him every bit as much as Mel had insisted she would; he was big and gentle, thoughtful and slow-moving, like a good-natured glacier. She smiled then, a weary curve of her mouth that didn't quite reach her eyes, not that there was light enough for him to tell.
"Thank you for the thought, Manu. Truly. But even if I didn't need to ... I'd still want to. It's been a long time."
"Oh."
Addie tried not to laugh as he worked through the idea that she had unfulfilled sexual needs. In the end, she couldn't resist teasing him. “Did you think I'm not even anatomically correct? Like a Barbie?"
A tangible presence, his embarrassment could've almost occupied the empty chair next to him. “I guess I never thought about it."
"You're my brother,” she said gently. “You're not supposed to. But please don't worry, just let me handle this."
"I hope you know what you're doing.” He sounded doubtful.
Well, me too. Her track record wasn't exactly stellar in that regard, but she couldn't afford to reveal her misgivings. Hadn't she spent the last four years holding things together? She would not lose her home over this.
"We'll be okay, I promise."
Manu sighed and stood up. “Just don't underestimate him, Addie."
"I won't, believe me.” She stepped closer and tried to hug him for his concern but couldn't quite get her arms around his waist.
In response, he scooped her up and squeezed her gently, as if she were a child. That's part of what Mel liked, she realized, feeling safe and protected. When Manu held her like that, it was impossible to believe anything bad could ever happen. Then he sat her down and kissed her on top of the head, as if she really were his kid sister. Addie had to admit, she was glad Mel had brought him home from Vegas.
"You going back up there?"
She shook her head. “No, the moment's pretty well shot tonight."
As they headed back inside, he informed her, “Your dad set something on fire in the cellar earlier. I took care of it."
"Shit. Is he okay?"
He seemed to consider for a moment. “Yeah. But the whole downstairs smelled like melted plastic. So I hung up a pine air freshener, and now it smells like someone burnt an artificial Christmas tree. Lem doesn't seem to care, though."
"He wouldn't,” she said, torn between laughter and tugging her hair. “Cinnamon rolls in the morning, you think?"
"That sounds good.” He paused, and then added sheepishly, “Make two pans."
Stretching up, she kissed his cheek and then froze. The staircase creaked as someone went back up the stairs, trying to be quiet. It must've been Sean, but had he been eavesdropping or searching her office? Heart racing, she tried to remember if she might've left anything incriminating in there.
After a moment, she managed to calm down. She kept everything related to YourAlibi.com stored on a shiny new laptop, safely locked in her room. The old paperweight in her office was mostly just for show; yesterday was the first time she'd used it to book in a customer in almost a year.
At thinking of customers, though, she really needed to check her private voice mail box and see if she'd missed any calls. There might be alibis to implement and credit card payments to process online, so she waved to her brother-in-law and headed to her room. “G'night,” she whispered over her shoulder.
"Night, Addie."
Just keep moving, she told herself, and you won't be the one left without a chair when the music stops.
Chapter Seven
"Just think about it,” Addie said, dishing up his breakfast.
"Hiking?” Sean could think of about a hundred things he'd rather do and two hundred that he needed to do.
Like get a good look at her records.
If he had any sense, he wouldn't let her get within ten feet of him again, but when she served him a plate of cinnamon rolls, drizzled with white icing, he couldn't help his reaction to her closeness. She smelled so fucking good, almost like an apple crisp. Now maybe that was a blend of breakfast and her shampoo, mingled with her oatmeal soap, but the combination drove him crazy.
Sean wanted to tug her down on his lap and kiss the hell out of her, needed to finish what they'd started last night. Maybe it should be awkward, but he just couldn't think of anything besides the fact that she'd been on top of him, half-naked, kissing him like she'd never tasted anything better in her life. To subvert his lust, he snagged a roll and took a huge bite, nearly half the pastry. If she fucked as well as she cooked, she'd kill him. Come to it, she might do that anyway.
This morning, she wore a gold halter and pair of beach pants, sort of crushed-wrinkled, but he had an idea they were supposed to look like she'd picked them up off the floor. And that look made him picture them crumpled beside his bed. The only thing that kept him from reaching for her, even now, was the fact that he could see the Samoan cleaning the pool out back. If Manu caught a glimpse of them doing what Sean wanted, right on the kitchen table, he suspected he'd get the beating of his life with the skimming net. When she smiled at him, showing just a hint of dimple, he thought it'd probably be worth it.
Belatedly, he realized she was waiting for him to say something else. “I'm not sure about hiking. I didn't bring any gear."
"No?” She sat down at the table with him, propping her chin on her hands. “Well, I've got a number of things to make up to you. This hasn't exactly been a typical stay."
He thought about the penguins. “I'm sure..."
Something exploded.
"Shit!” Addie bolted, sloshing her coffee all over the table.
In the same motion, she grabbed the fire extinguisher and jerked
open the pantry door, which wasn't a cupboard at all, and instead led to her dad's subterranean workshop. Without even thinking about it, he followed. The acrid smell of smoke seared his throat, and Sean could hear her cursing before he reached bottom. When he got down there, he felt like he'd entered Geppetto's workshop or maybe Dr. Frankenstein's lab. As far as the eye could see, every surface was littered with the guts of machinery, tools and parts, scraps of plastic, and flasks of chemicals.
"Goddamn it, Dad,” she was saying, as she wiped fire-dampening foam off him. “The Flow-Meister has never given you this much trouble. Manu told me you had an incident yesterday, too! What the hell are you doing down here? You're going to get yourself killed.” On the surface, she just sounded mad, but he could hear the almost-controlled tremor in her voice.
With deliberate motions, Lem cleaned his glasses with a stained handkerchief. “I gave up on the Flow-Meister,” he said eventually. “You were right. There's something like that already patented; most hotels have them installed already."
"I'm right? Since when does that make any difference? I mean...” She sighed. “What're you doing, seriously?
Feeling like an intruder, Sean brushed a cobweb away from her hair and turned to go, but she stayed him with a hand on his arm. When she touched him, he felt the faint trembling in her fingers, and there it was—the faint pressure on his heart again. So he wrapped an arm around her, just wanting to comfort her. He didn't think anyone else realized it, but she was fucking terrified something would happen to her dad.
I didn't want this. Didn't want to get involved. But he couldn't make himself pull away when she leaned against him a little because he had the idea she didn't do that a lot. Instead he stroked a hand over her incredibly silky hair, the curls clinging to his fingers.
For the first time, Lem seemed to notice the dynamic between them and he shot Sean a warning look, though he spoke to Addie. “I'm not going to tell you yet. You have a history of telling me stuff's already been invented or that it's a dumb idea. I checked into this and nobody's done it yet. I'm not going to jinx it by talking about it too soon."
"Dad...” Addie tried puppy eyes, and Sean knew he'd melt like chocolate on the dashboard if she ever used them on him, but Lem didn't seem especially impressed. Then again, he'd probably built up some resistance to it.
When Addie looked at him in mute appeal, he took a step back. He really didn't want to get mixed up in this, but the charred spot on the worktable proved her point. Whether the old man was a genius or a crackpot, he wasn't cautious. He might injure himself down here, and that would hurt Addie in ways Sean didn't like to think about. Don't get involved, he told himself again. You're not an inmate here, just a visitor.
It made no sense for him to say, however reluctantly, “I'm not trying to hinder your life's work, sir, but maybe you should keep a spare fire extinguisher down here just in case and make sure you wear a protective visor and goggles. You'll also want fireproof gear if you're working with incendiary materials."
"That's a smart idea,” Lem said, looking thoughtful. “Addie, would you mind? I really don't want to burn the place down, but I do have to test things."
Relief colored her voice. “No, I don't mind at all. I'll stop by the hardware store for you. Be careful until I get back, okay?"
"Mmm. Of course.” Her dad turned back toward his worktable.
Even Sean could tell they were dismissed, and he wanted to get out of the murky basement, so he led the way back upstairs. As they stepped back into the kitchen, Addie pounced on him with such fervor that he staggered back a step before finding his balance. She wrapped her arms around his neck, legs around his waist, and his hands went to her hips, holding her against him. In his arms, she felt sexy and solid.
"Thank you!” Her lips grazed his cheek. “Thank you!” Another kiss caromed off the tip of his nose. “He drives me crazy. Never listens to me about anything. Thank you, Sean.” The next kiss landed on his mouth, and he felt it all the way down.
He didn't let her withdraw, though, and the gentle, grateful caress became something else, hot and hungry. She tasted of buttery frosting and cinnamon, sweet and warm, and her lips parted for him, no insistence, no prompting. She wanted him. He heard her saying so last night, all over again: If I didn't need to, I'd still want to. Her tongue touched his, and he shuddered, breaking the kiss. If I didn't have a whisper of self-control left, he told her silently, I'd take you on the floor, baby, and it wouldn't matter who was watching.
"No...” He cleared his throat and tried again. “No problem."
"Unfortunately, I need to go shopping before we can do anything else. Otherwise I'll just worry the entire time we're gone.” She paused, as if it had just occurred to her that he might not be interested, and he couldn't help but smile. “You did want to do something, didn't you? Or would you rather just laze by the pool? Maybe you intended to do some sightseeing by yourself? If you do, it's really okay, I mean..."
"Addie.” He touched a fingertip to her lips, wishing he'd kissed her instead. “Stop babbling. I want to be with you today."
He did. Oh God, he did. It didn't matter what he should be doing; for a change, he was going to do exactly what he wanted. He wasn't going to think of the mess waiting for him in Sharpeville or the unanswered messages on his voicemail. None of it mattered right now, and he was afraid that whatever he learnt here would spoil his ability to enjoy himself with her.
Sean knew she was a liar and maybe worse, but he still wanted her, which just went to prove he had disastrous taste in women. But at least this one wanted to fuck, definitely a step up. After a lifetime taking the safe route, choosing the wise, prudent course, he intended to follow this dirt road wherever it led, and hopefully there was nakedness at the end of it.
"You do?” Like she knew what he was thinking, she gave a little wriggle that made him juggle her, and then she slid down his body like he was a stripper's pole. “Let's go then."
After a five-minute argument, she agreed to let him drive, if he promised to let her navigate. So she asked Manu to look after the place, and they called out a farewell, answered by a wave from the Samoan and a muffled thump from downstairs. As he started the Milan, he said, “Don't worry, I'm excellent at taking direction."
"Oh, are you?"
Christ, why did that tone, nothing but that tone, turn him on so much? He shifted, wishing he could make some adjustments, but as closely as she seemed to be watching, she'd notice for sure. Plus, he couldn't be sure she wouldn't take it upon herself to rearrange his cock, and then he'd have to explain to the rental company how he came to drive into a telephone pole when he was the only car on the road on a clear day.
He found himself flirting back. “Absolutely. I follow instructions to the letter."
She grinned at him, so cute that he had to force his eyes onto the road. “That's good to know. I can think of a number of situations where that would be handy."
"Can you now?” Sean wondered how brazen she'd get.
"Mmm.” Looking him up and down, Addie paused for effect. “Yeah. Putting together prefab furniture for instance. Make a left at the four-way."
He laughed as he made the turn. It really was beautiful here, although very different from Virginia, from the mountains in the distance to the panoramic space. Less trees too, more scrubland and cactus. Most likely, it could be dangerous too, if you didn't respect the land.
"Damn right. I never met a bookcase I couldn't master."
"What about desks?"
"Them too.” But when he glanced over at her, he saw a twinkle in her eyes, and suddenly he imagined them naked on top of the desk in her office.
He'd never done anything like that in his life, but around Addie, he couldn't seem to stop those thoughts. Suddenly tables and desks, hell, even the floor, looked like viable places to fuck. Somehow he knew she wouldn't slap his hands away, no matter what he wanted or where he wanted it.
"It's a straight shot for about five miles,” she said. “
We're going into town. You'll get to see the Laundromat, post office, the Gas-n-Go, which now rents videos, as well as the bar and the hardware store. Don't close your eyes or you might miss it."
"Sounds fantastic.” He still would've said that even if she'd promised him the world's largest twine ball, though he happened to know that was in Darwin, Minnesota.
Wonder what she's doing in August? For a brief moment, he indulged himself with the idea of taking a road trip with her for the Twine Ball Festival, the second week in August. Something told him Addie would never dismiss an idea because it reeked of pure silliness.
She regarded him, one eyebrow perking upward. “Are you feeling all right?"
Sean thought about that for a moment. Currently, his personal life was in utter disarray, his wife was most likely cheating on him, and when he got back to Virginia, he'd have to deal with a divorce that might turn messy. Last night, the Samoan had interrupted the first sexual encounter he'd had in almost a year, and now he was on his way to buy fireproof gear for her Mad Hatter of a father, who was likely to burn the bed and breakfast down while they were gone.
Then Addie's hand lit on his neck, massaging the nape, an absently affectionate gesture while he drove. Suddenly he found it hard to breathe, let alone speak. In all their years together, Cami had never done that. She never touched him much, rarely reached out with impulsive warmth.
At the outset, he thought he wanted that in a woman; he'd believed that reserve marked her as a lady—that she'd impress his colleagues with her refinement. But his coworkers didn't have to live with her. Addie ran her nails over his nape and he shivered, fighting the urge to close his eyes.
"Yeah,” he managed to say, smiling through a tide of feelings he couldn't begin to name. “I'm great."
Chapter Eight
The trouble started when Addie annihilated the pyramid of motor oil.
Everything had been fine until that point. They found the goggles and a face shield, probably used by welders, and a fire-retardant coverall. Shopping with Sean was fun, even at Pop's Hardware Store. Pop had died in 1987, and his daughter ran the place now, but nobody ever suggested she change the name. Sandy was a sweet lady, maybe forty-five, who was fond of straw hats and tool belts, not necessarily on the same person.