“Well, is it, or isn’t it? You know, I’ve always liked Ross and he is Melissa’s father, and well, I do believe that no matter what your troubles are, you can fix them. No marriage is a picnic, believe me, but there are those vows about sickness and health, good times and bad and…”
“We were married by a justice of the peace,” Kristen reminded her as she sped up for the final rise to her house. Why was she having this conversation with her mother, why?
“You should have had Father McIntyre-”
“But we didn’t, okay? That’s water under the bridge.” She turned into her driveway one-handed and hit the brakes again. Once the car had rolled to a stop, she let the engine idle and pressed the garage door opener with her free hand.
“I didn’t call to get into a fight. I thought you and I and Melissa could get tickets to Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, it’s coming to town, to Keller Auditorium, in July and has had fabulous reviews.”
“Sounds good.” Keller Auditorium was one of the largest and most upscale theaters in Portland and the venue for a lot of the touring Broadway shows.
“I’ll order them…if I can get a Saturday night. Should I get one for Ross, too?”
“No!” Kristen scaled back her tone with an effort. “Let’s just make it a girls’ night out, okay? You, me, and Lissa.”
“Henry will be disappointed, and I know Melissa has a boyfriend.” Paula was using that wheedling tone that Kristen had always found irritating.
The thought of sitting for hours in an upscale theater with Zeke was too much. He’d probably wear a stocking cap over his ears and be plugged into his iPod, or be trying to make out with Lissa.
“Come on, Mom. Let’s make this a women thing.”
Paula sighed loudly and Kristen knew she hadn’t heard the end of this particular discussion. “I’ll let you know when I get them. I think there are some bargains on-line.”
“Good seats, though, Mom, okay? Nothing under the balcony. And make sure they’re all together this time. I’ll pay the extra cost.”
“Mmm-hmm…I’ll get the best I can finagle. Oh, gotta run. Got another call coming in…it’s Henry…and I don’t know how to put you on hold.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll talk later.”
Kristen hung up as she entered the kitchen through the garage side door. She figured she was doomed. Her mother wasn’t one to change her mind easily. For some reason she wanted a group date with the men involved. “Save me,” Kristen murmured.
She checked on Lissa, who was seated at her desk, actually working on homework, even though the buds for her iPod were plugged into her ears.
“I’m going out tonight, remember?” Kristen said and when her daughter didn’t respond, shouted, “Lissa!” so loudly that Marmalade, who had been seated on the windowsill, scrambled from her perch, hissed at Kristen showing fierce, needle-sharp teeth and an incredible pink tongue, then scurried beneath the skirt of Lissa’s bed. She peered out balefully, as if Kristen were suddenly the enemy. “Ingrate,” Kristen muttered at the cat.
Lissa pulled out one of her earbuds. “What?” she asked in a bored tone.
“I’m going to a meeting tonight. The reunion again. I shouldn’t be gone long. There’re some Lean Cuisines in the freezer.”
Lissa rolled her eyes.
“Or pizza.”
“Big deal. Dad’s coming over.” Another exaggerated roll of her expressive gray, and overly made-up, eyes. “Didn’t he tell you?”
“I must have missed that memo.” Of course Ross hadn’t said anything. Lately, he didn’t seem to understand that she needed some warning before he strolled into the kitchen. Ever since the night of the first reunion meeting, Ross had been making a point of inserting himself into their lives again. It bugged her, but worse yet, Kristen found herself kind of enjoying the attention a bit, too.
Now she gritted her teeth. For whatever reasons, Ross was playing the part of interested, concerned father, and for that Kristen was on board. She wasn’t as certain she liked his renewed attentions to her…it was as if some switch had flipped back on. Suddenly he was smart, witty, and attentive-more so than he’d been in years. But what did it mean? How long would it last?
Bottom line: she didn’t trust him.
And she didn’t trust herself when it came to him.
It was just too easy to fall into that trap again.
“He said he was going to bring dinner again. Oh, wow,” Lissa said, curling her lip, “another Dad date.”
“Could be worse,” Kristen pointed out.
“How?”
“Could be taking you to his condo.”
Lissa looked stricken. The thought of being stranded in Ross’s Portland high-rise was enough to give her apoplexy. Forget the fact that she’d go there with her cell phone and iPod and have e-mail access through his computer; in Lissa’s opinion spending a night in the condo was a jail sentence.
“I’ll be back before ten, I think,” Kristen said, but her daughter was already plugged in again, her nose pointed toward her open algebra book, while on the computer screen someone named ZeeMan was instant-messaging her.
No doubt Zeke.
Kristen bit her tongue and walked the few steps to her room, where she showered, changed, slapped on some lipstick and mascara, then ran her fingers through her hair and called it good. She had just picked up her laptop and notes when Ross, pocketing his keys, walked in.
She tried not to notice how good he looked, but her female antennae picked up everything in a flash. His black hair was unkempt, aviator sunglasses covered his eyes. He was wearing khaki slacks and a white shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbows to show off tanned, sinewy forearms. His tie hung from a loosened collar, which added to the image of hardworking businessman ready for a little R &R. “Hi,” he said, tossing his keys and wallet onto the table.
“I didn’t know you were coming over.”
Taking off the sunglasses, he added them to the pile of his personal things. “Time got away from me. Meetings with those jackasses at the bank, a financing snafu that could hold up the entire Macadam project, and then more problems with a plumbing subcontractor. I didn’t have a second to breathe, let alone call and-” He stopped himself, shoved his hair from his eyes, and offered her a rueful smile. “I’m sorry. I should have phoned.”
“Amen.”
He held up his hands as if in surrender. “Won’t happen again.”
She didn’t believe him for a second, and it must’ve shown in her expression because his grin widened and he made an exaggerated cross over his chest. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“Yeah, right. Okay, okay, I forgive you. This time, but I gotta go. Already late for the meeting.” She grabbed her purse and tried to brush by him.
“Wait.”
She looked up into his teasing eyes, so damned seductive with their tiny striations of blue in the gray irises.
“I have to apologize for one more thing.”
“And what is that?” Her blood pressure was already elevating.
“This.” He pulled on her arm, yanked her to him, and suddenly kissed her. A deep, hot kiss. Surprised, Kristen gasped, and he took advantage of her open mouth, his lips molding to hers, his tongue touching and exploring.
She reacted instinctively, her stupid, wayward body beginning to melt, her bloodstream surging, her heart pounding a staccato rhythm. You don’t want this, you don’t, her mind was screaming at her, but her body, so long without a man’s touch, so anxious for the feel, taste, and smell of him, responded eagerly. Heat skittered up her spine, spreading across the back of her neck. Her knees threatened to buckle. She dropped her purse on the floor. It landed with a soft clunk.
“Oh, no!”
Lissa’s disgusted voice pierced through the haze of desire, and Kristen pulled back from Ross as if she’d been yanked by an invisible wire. Glancing past him, she spied her daughter, nose wrinkled as if she’d smelled something rotten, staring at her.