Dear Cupid Page 14

  She cringed as she realized how inane her excuse sounded—if she hadn’t heard the bell the first time, how could she have known it rang more than once? “So—” Clasping her hands together, she turned toward the kitchen. “Now that you’ve gotten the mess cleaned up, are y’all ready to start the actual work?”

  “Just as soon as I pick up the materials.” He headed through the dining area, pulling out a notepad. In the kitchen, he looked up at the gaping hole. “You know, this really wasn’t my crew’s fault. Whoever built the house didn’t attach the ceiling to anything. The only thing holding it up was the wall. So, when that came down, so did the ceiling.”

  “I’ll be sure and tell Mike. I wouldn’t want him to think I’d hired an inferior contractor,” she teased.

  “Thanks.” He flashed her a shy smile as he scribbled a note on his pad.

  “Speaking of ...” She made a vague gesture toward the stairs. “If you don’t need me up here, I’ll just go talk to Mike some more ... about those window treatments.”

  “Sure, fine. I’ll be out of here in a second.” He nodded distractedly, still jotting down notes. “Oh, and Kate?”

  “Yes?” She turned back.

  He grinned at her. “Your shirt’s on inside out”

  ~ ~ ~

  “I am going to die,” Kate said as she reached the bottom of the stairs. “I swear to God, I have never been so embarrassed in my entire life.”

  Smiling, Mike turned his swivel chair to face her. Vivid color stained what little of her face he could see, since her hand covered the upper half. “That bad, eh?”

  She lowered her hand to glare at him. “I told you he would know.”

  “Read it on your face, did he?” Mike’s cocky grin faded in surprise as she whipped her shirt off over her head.

  “That, and my dang shirt’s on inside out!” Her breasts jiggled enticingly within the confines of her lacy peach bra as she fixed the shirt and jerked it back on. “How on earth could you have let me answer the door like that?”

  “Huh?” He shook his head.

  “I can’t believe that we—That I—” Her breath came out in a hiss of exasperation.

  “Kate,” he said calmly. “Come here.”

  “Why?” She gave him a wary look.

  “Just come here.” When she obeyed, he took her hand and pulled her off balance so she landed in his lap.

  “Mike!” She laughed and wiggled to escape.

  “Careful,” he warned as her round bottom rubbed him in some very interesting places. “You’re about to get yourself into trouble.”

  “Oh, no.” She went still. “I think one embarrassing incident per morning is my quota.”

  “That’s better.” He sighed and draped his arms about her hips. “Now, first of all, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. You are a grown woman who’s entitled to a personal life. And secondly”—he grinned—“how much fun would the world be if we always behaved ourselves?”

  “You’re right,” she agreed. “But only to a point.” Slipping from his lap, she moved safely beyond his reach. “If there was something more between us than lust, I would only be mildly embarrassed at being caught in bed with you. But, we both agree there isn’t anything between us but that.”

  “So?” He shrugged, as if she hadn’t just kicked him in the gut.

  “So ...” She took a deep breath. “I really do think I should turn your account over to Linda. Especially now.”

  “Why?” His voice rose, and she held up a hand.

  “You hired me to help you find a wife. In light of what just happened, I don’t think I’m the best person for the job.”

  ‘I didn’t hire Linda. I hired you.”

  “To help you find a wife.”

  “Forget about the wife thing, would ya?”

  “Are you saying you no longer want to get married?”

  “I’m not saying anything. I just—” He rose to pace. “I thought you said you needed the money from this job.”

  “I do, but—”

  “No buts. Look, I’ll admit that hiring you for a wife hunt probably wasn’t one of my better ideas.” He crossed to her and took her hands. “So, how about if we simply stick to remodeling the house?”

  “But Linda could do that just as easily—”

  “I said no buts. I don’t want Linda. I want you.”

  He pulled her close and took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I mean that, Kate. I want you.”

  “I know. That’s the problem. Only, I won’t sleep with you again, not if I’m working for you.”

  “Does that mean you want to sleep with me again?”

  A smile tugged at her lips, giving him hope. “Maybe.”

  “Fine, then stick with the job at least till the kitchen’s done. When you’re on the clock, I’ll keep my hands to myself. However ...” He covered her mouth with a slow, toe-curling kiss. Her body relaxed against his, making his pulse leap. He wrapped his arms around her and, cupping her bottom, he pulled her snugly against him, so she could feel exactly what she did to him. She responded by pressing even closer.

  He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and pulled slowly away. “If you decide to clock out for an afternoon—or morning—of mutually satisfying, uninhibited lovemaking, be sure and let me know.”

  “I’ll, um ...”—she blinked as if to focus her vision—“keep it in mind.” Then, with a dazed look, she headed for the stairs, mumbling something about having to get home.

  He let out a breath the moment she left. “Let’s hope you keep it in mind. Lord knows I will.”

  Chapter 15

  Dear Cupid,

  Is it true what they say, that a man and woman can never be just friends? In my case, I’m afraid it is because I’ve done a really stupid thing. I’ve fallen in love with my best friend. A part of me wants to tell her how I feel, but another part doesn’t want to risk losing what we have. What should I do?

  Friend in Love

  KATE sat back and stared at the letter on her screen, incredibly touched by the plight of Friend in Love. A few weeks ago—no, a few days ago—she would have fought the urge to speak from her own fear and say: “No. Don’t. Don’t risk your heart. Don’t risk yourself.”

  Now ...

  Now, she found herself more tempted with every letter to tell readers: “Yes! Go for it! Open your heart, no matter the risk, because life without at least the chance of love is so desperately empty.”

  Empty. She sighed. The word described the way she’d felt for years, since long before the divorce. That, at least, had certainly changed since Mike had burst into her life. Since then, she had felt many things: angry, amused, frightened ... happy. Alive.

  He made her feel alive.

  In the five days since they’d made love—No, not love. Her stomach jumped even at the thought of that word. Pressing a hand to her jittery belly, she amended that to: in the five days since they’d tumbled onto his waterbed together, she’d felt very much alive. She felt it every time he looked up from his work to slay her defenses with one of his lethal grins; every time he sent her heart reeling with a heated look from across a room, even if that room was crowded with construction workers.

  They hadn’t had a single moment alone all week. She’d timed her visits that way to give herself some room to breathe. And yet, she never doubted that he knew the instant she walked into a room, whether she was there to show him fabric samples for window treatments or a catalog of dishes and glassware. She could almost feel the tingle of awareness that passed through his body when she was near, because it passed through hers as well.

  That wonderful feeling of awareness was something she hadn’t felt with Edward since the early days of their marriage, if even then. And now she wondered if the absence of that awareness was what had killed her marriage rather than Edward’s obsession with work. Mike certainly cared as passionately for his career, and worked as many hours as Edward did, perhaps even more, but with Mike, she never felt ignored. Or w
orse, an intrusion. Edward had made her feel like an intrusion,

  Pushing her personal thoughts aside, she leaned forward to answer the letter, then noticed the time readout on her monitor. Nine fifty-five A.M., Saturday. Good heavens, how had the morning slipped by so quickly?

  “Dylan,” she called, saving the e-mail to answer later. “Are you finished packing the toys you want to take this weekend? It’s almost ten o’clock and your father will be here any minute.”

  “I’m trying to decide,” he called down to her in a panicky voice that made her smile. For the past two days, he hadn’t been able to think of anything but his big weekend with his dad. Thankfully, when she’d called Edward last night, he’d assured her the plans were still on. So, maybe he was finally willing to make an effort with Dylan.

  “He’s here!” Dylan shouted from the loft just as she entered the cabin’s main room. Her stomach lurched as it always did at the thought of facing Edward. “Daddy’s here! He really came!” Dylan clamored down the ladder.

  “Dylan, wait!” She rushed forward and grabbed him before he could dash out the door. With shaky hands, she tucked in his shirt and ran her fingers through his hair. “Remember what we talked about?”

  “I know.” Dylan rolled his eyes. “Don’t talk Dad’s ear off, or get too excited ‘cause it gets on his nerves. Play it cool, right?”

  “Right.” She gave him a thumbs-up, determined that things would go well this weekend, for Dylan’s sake. “Now, go tell your father hi.”

  With a loud whoop, Dylan charged out the door and leapt from the front porch just as Edward climbed out of the sleek black Lexus. “Hey, Dad, you want to see my new computer game? Mom got it for me, ‘cause I made an A on my math test. It’s really cool and I already beat her highest score.”

  “Still the little egghead, eh, Dill-man?” Edward held his hands out, not to greet his son, but to fend him off before he could scuff the Italian loafers.

  Watching from the porch, Kate held her hands together, prayer-like, silently willing Dylan to slow down. Instead, he continued in a headlong rush about his new computer game. His breath turned ragged with excitement. Oh, please don’t let him have an asthma attack this weekend. At least Edward was smiling, which she took as a good sign. Everything would work out fine. Dylan was older now, so maybe they’d find some common interest to form a bound.

  Her heart warmed as Edward reached out a hand and rumpled his son’s hair. They looked so good together, even if Dylan was a paler, thinner version of what his father must have been at that age.

  “So,” Dylan asked, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, “you wanna come in and see it?”

  “Some other time, perhaps.” Edward glanced at his watch. “Right now we need to run if we’re going to have time to eat lunch and still make it to the game.”

  “We’re really going to a baseball game?” Dylan asked. “We’re going to see the Longhorns?”

  “Certainly.” Edward gave him a smile that appeared only a little forced around the edges. “Afterward, I’ll take you to see your Grandma Anne and Grandpa Henry.”

  “Ah, Dad ...” Dylan’s shoulders sagged. “Do we have to go see ‘em?”

  “They’re your grandparents, Dylan.” A touch of impatience entered Edward’s voice. “Of course you’ll want to see them. Now go get your things before you make us late.”

  Kate bit her tongue to keep from echoing Dylan’s sentiments about visiting his grandparents. Just because she’d never gotten along with her in-laws was no reason why her son couldn’t.

  With the resilience of youth, Dylan’s enthusiasm returned full force as he rushed inside for his things, leaving the two adults alone.

  Edward hesitated a moment, then removed his sunglasses and came to stand at the bottom of the steps. The sunlight added a sharpness to his angular features. “Hello, Kate.”

  “Edward,” she said, looking down on him from the added height of the porch. He jiggled the keys in his pocket, and for the first time, she wondered if these meetings distressed him as much as they did her.

  His gaze flickered over the yellow sundress she knew complemented both her figure and coloring.

  “You’re looking good,” he said at last. “In fact, I believe you may have finally lost a little of the weight you gained from having Dylan.”

  “Why, thank you, Edward,” she said with a stiff smile. Would the little insults never end? He’d already ejected her from his life, did he have to still chip away at her every time they talked? Today, however, she was determined to let his remarks roll off her back. “Come inside while I write down the instructions for Dylan’s medicine. He’s been a bit wheezy today, so you’ll need to watch him closely.”

  “Are you sure he’s up to this?”

  “He’s up to it,” she said, wondering if that was concern that flashed across Edward’s eyes or hope for an excuse to cancel the weekend. Turning, she led the way inside.

  “I can’t believe you’re still living in this dinky place,” he said as he stepped over the threshold. “I’d think, with the amount of child support I pay, you could afford better.”

  “It suits me.” She smiled as she rechecked the bag of medicine she’d packed along with the nebulizer. Truthfully, she longed for the day when she could afford a real house where her son could have a room of his own. As for Edward’s child support, they both knew it didn’t come close to what he should be paying. But then, Edward was a master at making himself look poor on paper when it suited his purpose.

  As he crossed to the window that looked out over the lake, she wondered what had ever happened to the college boy she’d fallen in love with, the one who had actually cared about something other than himself. Or at least pretended to.

  “You know,” he said, ducking his head to see up the hill. “I bet the land around here would be worth a bundle if someone tore down all these shacks and hauled off the mobile homes. Maybe put in a gated community with a greenbelt along the waterfront.”

  “Dabbling in real estate these days?” she asked.

  “It’s a thought.” He shrugged.

  Shaking her head, she pulled a pad and pen from a kitchen drawer and began writing down instructions. “Here’s a list of Dylan’s prescriptions and how each one should be taken. I assume you remember how to use the nebulizer?”

  He gave a sigh of exasperation as she hefted the machine off the counter. “Is it necessary for me to lug that thing around? He’s only staying with me one night.”

  “And you know as well as I do that a lot can happen in one night. I want you to promise me that if he starts wheezing, you’ll make him use it.”

  “Of course,” he said as he took the machine from her.

  “I’ve also written down Linda’s home number. If for any reason you can’t get a hold of me, she usually knows where I am.”

  Taking the note, he gave her a curious frown. “Is there any reason why you wouldn’t be here?”

  “Oh, I don’t know ...” She trailed a hand through the air. “Maybe I have some hot plans, since I’ll be a free woman all weekend.”

  “I see.” His brow raised in doubt. Was it that hard for him to believe any man would want to spend time with her? Or just any man worthy of his jealousy?

  “Okay!” Dylan shouted as he struggled down the ladder with his backpack over one arm and a stack of books and toys under the other. “I’m ready.”

  Kate turned to give him a hug. “You have fun at the game, and don’t eat too much junk food, okay?”

  “Okay. See ya.” Dylan wiggled out of her arms and hurried for the door. “Come on, Dad!”

  With a resigned sigh, Edward carried his own load toward the car. “Dylan, wait,” he called. “Wipe your feet before you get in. Jeez, I just had the leather upholstery cleaned.”

  Kate went to stand on the porch, calling a final good-bye as Edward loaded the nebulizer and Dylan into the backseat. Everything would be fine, she told herself as they pulled out of the drive and the car
disappeared around a row of cedar trees and a rusted barbed-wire fence. She remained on the porch a moment, her heart already aching to have her son back even though she’d wanted him to have this weekend with his dad.

  When the sound of the car had faded, she went inside, feeling at loose ends. As much to get her mind off Dylan as anything else, she settled back in front of the computer to finish answering Dear Cupid email. While she had to struggle to be upbeat about romance, she gave thanks to have the task. Her column had provided a refuge during an ego-crushing divorce and now, she hoped, would offer a path back to the person she used to be. At the very least, it would help her through the next two days without Dylan.

  When she’d finished her response to Friend in Love, she clicked over to her Web site to see if they’d posted her latest article on role-playing between lovers. To her surprise, a line of text appeared on the screen saying “Address Not Found.” Wondering if the bookmark had messed up, she typed in the address. The same message appeared. Could the server be down? She opened Gwendolyn’s Garden, just to check. The site came up fine, although she noticed they’d changed the front page and had forgotten to include the little Cupid icon that linked the main page to her site. Curious, she typed in her site address again, and received the same message: “Address Not Found.”

  She sat a moment, staring at the screen as a sense of foreboding settled over her. Reaching for the phone, she dialed Gwen’s office in L.A., knowing her friend would be at work, even on a Saturday.

  “Gwendolyn’s Garden. Gwen speaking.”

  “Gwen?” she said, somehow relieved by the mere sound of her friend’s voice. “It’s Kate.”

  “Kate? Oh ... hi.” Gwen sounded a bit uncomfortable, but not alarmingly so.

  “I just went to access my page and got some silly message about the address not being found.” Silence. “Gwen?”

  “Oh, dear.” A heavy sigh came over the line, and the bottom fell out of Kate’s stomach. God, no, please no. “Kate, I—I’m sorry. I told the Web site manager not to upload the changes until I’d talked to you personally, but you’ve been out the last two days, and I didn’t want to leave a message about something like this. I guess he got tired of waiting.”