Barefoot and Pregnant?

by Colleen Faulkner

  “Or?” she murmured, transfixed by his gaze.

  “Or, we could slip out the back and take a walk on the beach. If you’re hungry, I’ll buy you a cheeseburger when I take you home. I know a great little dive.”

  Elise stared at him in disbelief for a moment. Slip out of here? She’d spent more than an hour getting ready for this affair. She’d bought new shoes and Seduction lipstick. Waterfront Realty had paid five hundred dollars for her to see and be seen here tonight. Elise couldn’t just walk out…could she?

  Well, her company hadn’t really paid for the chicken, had they? Their check had been a donation to fund the new maternity wing.

  A smile played on her lips. To sneak out would be totally out of character for her. Elise Montgomery always went by the book. She always followed the rules, and the rules were that if your boss paid five hundred dollars for bad chicken, you ate it. But she could already tell that Zane Keaton was not a man who played by the rules.

  “Ah, you found her, Zane.” Richard Milton, a prominent local attorney, approached them.

  Zane lifted a brow.

  “Elise Montgomery, the real estate agent I was telling you about. You want to make a large land purchase in this county, she’s the person to know.”

  Elise felt her face grow warm with embarrassment.

  “You’re a real estate agent?” Zane asked looking to her, as if he didn’t quite believe the attorney.

  She nodded. “That’s right.”

  “Well, I’ll leave you two kids alone. Call me if Elise finds what you’re looking for.” Richard walked away.

  Elise smiled at Zane. “So you’re looking for land.”

  He lifted a broad shoulder. “Maybe. So, you still game?”

  “Game?” she asked.

  “For getting out of here.” He pointed to the door.

  “Come on, Ellie, it’ll be fun,” he whispered when she didn’t answer right away. His breath was warm in her ear. The chemistry was wicked. “And just a little naughty. Tell me you like to be naughty once in a while.”

  She looked at him in wide-eyed surprise and he winked.

  The man winked…it was like right out of an old black-and-white movie she liked to watch on Sunday afternoons when she should be working.

  “Okay,” she exhaled, tantalized by the thought of just walking out. “But I need to tell my friend Liz that I’m going. She gave me a ride here.”

  He took her empty glass from her hand and placed it on the tray of a passing waiter. “Tell her you won’t need a ride home.” He pointed at her. “Now I’m giving you two minutes to meet me at the door. Then we make our getaway.”

  Elise watched Zane walk away, feeling a little numb. Was this the night she had dreamed of since she was little girl, tucked in at night by a nameless nanny?

  She found Liz at the bar. “I won’t need that ride home.”

  Liz grinned. “How’s he coming on that checklist of yours?”

  “Too early to say,” Elise confided. Inside her chest her heart was pounding. Her pulse fluttered. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had made her feel this way.

  Liz nodded with a conspiratory look. “Call you later,” she mouthed.

  Elise made a beeline for the door, her black clutch purse tucked under her arm. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. She did feel naughty and she had to admit, the feeling was wonderful.

  Zane was waiting for her just outside the hotel’s reception area. He offered her his elbow. His smile made her feel like a million bucks.

  “I figure we’ll make a grand exit,” he said as he strode forward, his chin high as if they were royalty.

  “We get out on the beach and we throw our shoes into the dunes and make a run for the water.”

  Elise laughed. “I can’t really walk on the beach. I’m wearing hose.”

  He opened the door that led onto the hotel’s veranda. “Hose, shmose. Take them off.”

  Take them off? Elise felt as if her brain was on overload. Stand on one foot and peel her panty hose off on a public beach?

  Zane led her across the hotel’s Victorian-style veranda and down the steps that led to the white sand beach. “Okay, twenty questions.”

  “What?”

  “Let’s play twenty questions. Well, my version.” He walked around to the back of the staircase and kicked off one shoe and then the other. “I ask a question. I give you my answer and then you give me yours.”

  She gingerly removed one high-heeled leather shoe and then the other. The feel of the sand through her hose on her feet was deliciously warm. “What kind of questions?” she asked suspiciously. Usually on first dates—and she figured she could classify this as a date—she stuck to safer conversations such as where she went to college and what the NASDAQ was doing.

  “Easy stuff,” Zane said. “Like your favorite color. Mine’s black.”

  “Black? Black’s not a color.”

  “Sorry. It’s my answer. Black is my favorite color. Let’s see, black like a moonless night. Black like the backside of a penguin. Yours?”

  She laughed. “Mine’s green.” She paused. “Green like a man’s face after he’s tasted his mother-in-law’s potato salad.”

  He laughed. “Now you’re getting the hang of it. Come on.” He opened and closed one hand. “Off with the hose. I swear, I don’t know how you women wear those things.”

  She grabbed the rail of the step, then hesitated. Did she put her hands under her skirt, or try to wiggle the waistband down through the material of the dress?

  Zane spun around, presenting his back to her. “Go ahead. Do what you have to do get them off. No one’s looking.” He made himself busy rolling up his pant legs.

  Elise took a deep breath and reached under her dress and grabbed the waistband of her hose. She gave a yank, got them down around her thighs and lifted one foot. “Whoa!” She swayed as she lost her balance in the soft sand.

  Zane caught her before she went down, his eyes comically squeezed shut. “Got ya.”

  Using Zane’s muscular forearm to balance herself, she quickly slipped out of the hose. “Done,” she said as proud of herself as if she’d just sold a half-million dollar piece of property. She stuffed the hose into her pumps.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  He grabbed her hand and pulled her along. “Okay, question number two. “Chocolate or vanilla ice cream?”

  “Soft serve?”

  He grinned.

  “Swirl.”

  “Definitely swirl,” he agreed. “I like you already.”

  As they walked across the beach toward the water, they covered questions three and four. By the time they reached the edge of the cool, frothing ocean, Elise wanted a turn at asking the questions. “Okay,” she said laughing at his last answer. “Here you go, favorite sport to watch. Mine’s baseball.”

  He looked at her, with obvious surprise as they started north up the beach. “Not ice skating? All the women I’ve ever known like ice skating.”

  “Orioles fan since birth, with or without Cal Ripken, Jr.”

  “You want to get married?” he asked.

  She laughed. He was kidding of course, but she still felt a trill of excitement. Obviously he wasn’t a man completely against the idea of the institution of marriage. “Another,” she begged.

  “Cap’n Crunch cereal with or without crunch berries?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Gross. Granola, with raisins.”

  He shook his head. “That’s it. Wedding is called off.” He splashed as he walked, wetting her calves. “On to more serious matters. Name of your first grade teacher.”

  The questions went on way beyond twenty. The sun was setting over their left shoulders on the bay before they finally turned around and headed south toward the hotel again. Elise couldn’t stop laughing, not just at some of Zane’s crazy answers, but the way he said things. He was so genuinely confident in himself. So self-assured. So real. As they walked back up the beach
toward the hotel and their shoes, Zane caught her arm to help her through the soft sand. “I’m starving. Those quarter-size hors d’oeuvres just didn’t do anything for me.” He looked to her. “You want to grab a burger before I take you home, Ellie?”

  Ellie. He called her Ellie again. She liked it. She liked the way she felt when he called her that. “A burger would be good. Of course it will have be that dive now.” She pointed to their abandoned shoes. “There’s no way I can wrestle into those hose again.”

  He laughed as he grabbed her shoes and passed them to her. “My car’s just up the hill.” They took a set of steps to the parking lot as he explained to her the finer points of grilling a good hamburger. He led her toward a vintage green BMW and opened the passenger door for her.

  A gentleman and driving a BMW? The man was in the triple bonus round….

  Elise tossed her sandy panty hose into the hamper. “She shoots, she scores!” she announced jubilantly.

  She laughed. Shooting baskets with dirty hose? Talking out loud to herself? She didn’t know what had gotten into her.

  Yes, she did. Zane Keaton.

  Dressed in sleek, satin pajamas, Elise padded barefoot down the hall to the spare bedroom she used as an office. She flipped a wall switch and soft light flooded the room painted in beige neutrals. From the desk, she grabbed a light blue piece of paper and a pen. She leaned over and wrote “Zane Keaton” in loopy handwriting on the top line of the Husband Finder checklist. She tucked a lock of her blond hair behind one ear and began to fill in Zane’s physical details: 6’1”, blond hair, blue eyes. She knew the worksheet was really for “official” dates, but “official” or not, her evening with Zane was the best date she had ever had. Well, maybe with the exception of the hot Texas evening she’d spent with Johnny Carlisle when a traveling carnival had passed through town, and she’d slipped out of the house. Of course she’d only been fifteen at the time, and Johnny had been her first kiss, so that probably didn’t count.

  Elise grabbed the paper and pen and took them down the hall. She glanced at the Career heading and halted in the middle of the living room.

  She couldn’t believe she hadn’t asked Zane what he did for a living. She’d spent an entire evening with the man. He was such a good listener for a man. The hours had slipped by like the seconds it took to enjoy a bite-size candy bar. And she hadn’t asked him about his work. Her father would be horrified.

  Elise held the pen poised over the Career section: Professional, Business Owner, Other. She decided on “other” just so she didn’t have to leave the line blank. She hated blank lines and the way they stared accusingly at you. After all, what did it matter what he did for a living? Zane was obviously going to score high enough to warrant another date.

  The phone rang and she glanced at the Irish porcelain clock on an end table. It was almost midnight. Eleven in Texas, too late for her father to call; he was an early riser. She darted for the phone. Liz had said she would call, to see how her evening went with Zane. Elise was dying to tell her friend what a wonderful evening she’d had. To tell her about the barefoot walk and the fact that Zane had convinced her to eat not just a burger, but fries, too. She had probably consumed an entire day’s worth of calories in one sitting and she didn’t care.

  “Liz,” she said excitedly into the phone.

  “Ellie?”

  The male voice startled her….

  He’d called her Ellie.

  “Zane?”

  He chuckled, his voice low and sexy. “I didn’t think you’d be in bed yet.”

  She glanced at the clock again. She’d barely been home half an hour. He had to have walked into his house and immediately picked up the phone to call her.

  She didn’t know what to say. The men she dated were never in a hurry to talk to her. They didn’t call half an hour after they dropped her off—sometimes they never called again.

  “No, no, it’s fine,” she said, settling on the pale green damask couch. She smoothed the protective arm cover. The piece of furniture was so expensive, a gift from her father, that she barely sat on it. She preferred the old leather recliner that she’d brought from home and kept in her office in the back. She’d had the recliner in her dorm room at college, then her very first apartment. She liked the smell of the old leather.

  “I was just—” She looked down at the sheet of paper on the end table and felt a stab of guilt. “Just picking up a little before I went to bed,” she lied cheerfully.

  “Well, I wanted to tell you that I enjoyed my evening with you.”

  “Well, I did, too.”

  “So, I was wondering.”

  She held her breath. She didn’t care what the book said about not relying on chemistry. Right now, it felt too darned good.

  “Think we could get together later this week?”

  “Sure,” she said trying not to sound overly eager.

  “I thought I could tell you what I was looking for in the way of property, and you could look into what’s available.”

  If her stomach could have literally dropped, it would have been on the floor. He wanted to talk about property? “Um, sure, that would be great.”

  “I’ve got a lot going this week, but how about Friday?”

  “Friday is good.”

  “I’ll call you later in the week.”

  “Sounds good,” she said, trying to sound equally cheery.

  “’Night, Ellie,” Zane said in that same sexy voice that made her feel warm all over.

  “’Night, Zane.”

  Elise barely hung up the cordless phone when it rang again. This time it had to be Liz.

  “That you, Liz?”

  “Expecting Leonardo or Brad so late?” Liz’s voice was laced with her usual blend of amusement and sarcasm.

  Elise curled up on the couch, tucking her bare feet beneath her. “You’re never going to believe what an evening I’ve had,” she said not knowing if she wanted to laugh or cry.

  “That good?”

  “Well, I think so. Zane just called and said he wanted to get together later in the week.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Liz exclaimed.

  “To talk about real estate.”

  “Oh.” Liz’s voice fell.

  “But I really like him,” Elise said softly. “And he’s already met several of the criteria.”

  “So meet him. Talk to him about some property. Let him get to know you. Business luncheons will turn into romantic interludes before you know it. It happens all the time.”

  Elise smiled. “Thanks, Liz. See you Monday.”

  Chapter Two

  Don’t be fooled by fairy tales; frogs do not turn into princes. Appearances can mean everything to the contemporary working woman. We are judged by what we drive and where we live.

  “Hey, Pops! How are you this morning?” Zane leaned over and kissed the top of his grandfather’s bald head. “Look who I brought.”

  Zane’s black Lab, Scootie, wagged his tail, sending his whole backside swinging and licked Tom Keaton’s wrinkled hands, folded neatly in his lap the way his nurse had left them.

  The old man smiled vaguely and patted the dog’s head when Scootie rested his snout on Tom’s bony knee.

  “I thought we’d go for a walk outside, Pops. How would that be?” Zane studied his grandfather’s face for some response, any response. There was none. “Great,” Zane said. “Here we go!” He unlocked the brake on his grandfather’s wheelchair and wheeled him out of the “Family Room” of the Alzheimer’s wing.

  “Taking Pops for a walk, Katie,” Zane called cheerfully as he passed the nurse’s station.

  “I’ll buzz you out,” the cute blonde answered. “Have a nice walk.”

  “We always do.” With the dog trailing behind him, he pushed the wheelchair through the set of double doors that were locked to keep the patients inside. His grandfather wore a band on his wrist as an extra safety precaution. The wristband set off an alarm any time he passed through the doors of the wa
rd. The band helped to alert the staff if he wandered away on those days when he could still walk on his own.

  “I went to that benefit dinner for the hospital last night, Pops.” Zane pushed the wheelchair down the hallway, headed for the doors that exited into the garden area. “I gave Mr. Johann your check and told him how disappointed you were that you couldn’t be there yourself. And guess what else happened?” He hit a big silver pad on the wall and the doors swung open, allowing him to push the wheelchair through. Scootie burst through the door first, into the morning sunshine.

  “I met a girl. You’d like her. She’s cute and she’s funny and she’s smart.”

  The doors swung closed behind them.

  “I really liked her,” he said thoughtfully, shaking his head. “She’s a real estate agent. A real go-getter according to Richard.”

  Zane pushed his grandfather around a small circular herb garden, headed for the tomato patch. Tom Keaton had always grown some of the best tomatoes in Sussex County, and the hospital had been nice enough to give him a small flower bed to plant. Other patients would come out and pick them when they were ripe; Tom just liked to see the plants.

  “You know how I feel about women like that, Pops. They just aren’t for me. They don’t care about anything but their job. No family ties. No purpose in life except work twelve hour days and make money. I’m looking for a woman who wants to be a part of my life the way grandma was a part of your life.”

  Zane’s mother had been one of those women who put her career ahead of her family. She’d been so wrapped up in her advertising job that she’d never had time for him and his sister. She’d missed the only home run he ever hit playing Little League baseball, when he was ten. She’d never attended his band concerts. Never brought homemade cupcakes to school for his birthday like the other moms. His parents had finally divorced when he was twelve, and she now lived in New York City, working for a big shot ad company. He rarely saw her, and when he did, they were casual strangers.

  “As soon as I found out what Ellie—that’s her name—what Ellie did for a living, I know I shouldn’t have asked her out, but I did.” He grabbed a stick and hurled it in the air. Scootie took off after it. “Well, sort of.”