Kitabı oku: «After Hours», sayfa 7
Troy raised his brows. “Pink helmets? Are those really necessary? Besides, what’s wrong with their existing ones? I can’t supply the equipment for every youth team in Miami, and let’s face it, the boys are a little more rough-and-tumble than the girls.”
Peggy’s temples started throbbing. “That is so untrue. My girls are every bit as aggressive—and talented, I might add—as your boys! I’d put the ladies on the field any day and they’d kick your butts.”
“Is that so.” His body language became cocky and competitive: shoulders back and chin up.
“Yeah, that is so.” Her chin came up, too.
“Uh-huh.” Troy smirked. “Well, I think your strength lies more in color coordination. That’s why Danni and Laura and the rest of the puff team painted their nails before their last game—because matching team polish really brings out the beast in them.”
Peggy narrowed her eyes on him. “That was a team spirit thing, and I can’t believe you’d be so snarky about your own nieces. You obviously don’t take them or their talent seriously.”
“Yes, I do,” Troy protested. “I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant that the guys are rougher. They’ll need the helmets more, especially as they get a little older and things get serious for them. Let’s face it, most of the girls won’t go on to play in high school.”
Peggy gritted her teeth. “Because nobody takes them seriously and nobody encourages them to play in high school. They’re pushed to try out for cheerleader instead.”
Troy put his hands up, palm out. “Hey, don’t get all mad at me. I know that you were different, okay, and I admire you for that. But the majority of girls have no interest in doing what you did.”
Peg took a deep breath and counted to three. “Let’s just change the subject. Because if we don’t, I might be tempted to shove those bread sticks where the sun don’t shine, buddy.”
“God, I love it when women threaten me with violence. It makes me all horny,” Troy teased her. “What bread sticks?”
She glared at him. “The ones Benito’s bringing to us right now. Hi, Benny!” She turned to the restaurateur with a sunny smile. “How are you?”
“Very well, grazie. You?” Benito placed a large napkin-covered basket in the center of their table. The aroma of hot bread wafted out, hot bread liberally spread with garlic butter. Peggy’s mouth watered, and Benito beamed at her. He gestured toward Troy.
“I see you have dinner with our so-handsome landlord! Should help with the rent, eh?” He winked and laughed. “Ciao, Mr. Barrington. You like-a more wine?”
“Landlord?” Peggy stared at Troy.
Troy shrugged and looked sheepish.
“He no tell you? He inherit whole strip mall from his uncle, Newton Baines. When, one month ago, you say?”
Troy nodded.
Peggy felt like an idiot. She’d called the cops on their landlord? “Why…”
“Benito, I’d sure love to take you up on that second glass of wine. How about one for the lady, too?”
“Right away, Signor B.!”
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Troy said quickly, after Benito left. “About the whole stalking thing, or like you had to go out with me since I owned the place.”
She shoved her embarrassment away. “I wouldn’t have. I already told you, your money doesn’t intimidate me.”
His mouth twisted. “Trust me, there’s not as much money anymore. Three college funds, my sister’s retirement fund and a bunch of property, and it takes a mint to maintain that.”
“Well,” she said coolly, finishing her glass of Cabernet, “After Hours must be quite the cash cow for you.” Oh, hell. How had she gotten back to cows and milk again?
Troy crunched down on a bread stick and didn’t answer. She supposed her comment had been tacky. This evening was going all wrong, and she didn’t know how to salvage it. Didn’t know if she even wanted to, after his comments about girls and football.
She knew Troy spoke the truth about how many girls went on to play high school or college ball, but it irritated her that he saw no need to change the status quo. That he was fine with girls being cheerleaders, supporting their male football teams. It made her want to scream.
“Tell you what, Mr. Landlord,” she said. “We’re gonna challenge you guys to a game toward the end of the season. And you are going to eat your words. Then you’re gonna owe us the helmets and new uniforms. Not to mention pink cleats for the whole team.”
“Deal,” he said. “But can I ask you something? If you’re so eager for your ladies to be taken seriously, why not lighten up on the pink?”
“Because I’m making a point. You’re about to suggest that they shave their heads, maybe get nose rings and tattoos just to look tough, aren’t you?”
“No.”
She ignored him. “Well, they’re not going to do that. My girls are going to look as feminine as they please while kicking ass. They’re going to pulverize the opposition after touching up their lipstick! I’m so sick of these stereotypes—that if women are good at sports, they’ve gotta look butch. Not true.”
“Okay, calm down,” Troy said, pulling the napkin-covered basket toward him. “I’d offer you a bread stick, but I’m afraid of what you might do with it.”
That got a smile out of her, but she nodded. “Damn straight.”
“You’re a tough one, Peggy-Sue. I have a feeling that any moment now you’ll challenge me to swords, pistols or bread sticks at dawn.” He grinned that irresistible grin of his, the one where both dimples flashed.
“On guard,” she said. “Watch out for the garlic.”
Benito appeared with their second glasses of wine and took their orders, chicken cacciatore for her and manicotti for Troy. They both chose the Caesar salad.
“A good thing if there’s any kissing later,” Troy pointed out. “We’ll both have the breath of camels.”
“Kissing?” She raised her glass to her lips and flooded her mouth with the tart Cabernet. “Aren’t you presuming a lot?”
He avoided her gaze. “Yeah, I guess I am. And I shouldn’t.”
She set her glass down. “Why did you ask me to dinner, Troy? Because I could swear that you had no intention of doing it. All that stuff about how you wanted to get to know me, and then when I called, you didn’t seem pleased to hear from me.”
He swore under his breath and ran a hand through his close-cropped hair. “Peggy, it’s not that. Believe it or not, I was thrilled when you called.”
“Yeah, you were turning cartwheels. Come on, Troy!” Encouraged by the wine, she leaned forward and said in low tones, “Just go ahead and give me the speech about how it’s not me, it’s you, or tell the truth and say that since we had our sex-a-thon, you don’t respect me anymore. Because I must be loose, and while you might screw that kind of woman, you sure don’t want to date her—”
“Peggy—”
“You already got a bucket of free milk, so why tow around the cow—”
“Hey! That is complete bullshit—”
“Right, of course it is. Then give me your version.”
“Damn, woman! Look, I like you a lot. You’re smart, you’re beautiful, you’re challenging and you turn me on like you wouldn’t believe. But the thing is that you’re also my nieces’ coach. And when you called I was just thinking that it’s not a good idea to take this any further. That’s all.”
“Then why did you ask me to dinner?”
“Because I wanted to anyway, even though it’s probably not smart. You’re an amazing woman, Peggy. I like to look at you, I like to talk with you, and I damn sure like to touch you….”
Heat blossomed all over her skin, and she felt foolish. She’d just behaved like a raving lunatic, but Troy still sat opposite her instead of storming out. He had a perfectly reasonable explanation for his hesitance on the phone.
A waiter, not Benito this time, appeared at the table. “Cacciatore?”
She nodded, and he placed the dish before her.
“And manicotti for signor.”
Troy thanked him.
Dinner was served, and Peggy was intensely grateful to be able to concentrate on her food. What were she and Troy going to talk about next? They’d already covered sex. Might as well move on to the other taboo subjects: politics and religion.
Then he turned the tables on her. “So, Peggy-Sue. If you didn’t think I really wanted to ask you out to dinner, then why did you accept my invitation?”
10
TROY ASKED THE QUESTION partly to make her squirm after her tirade, and partly because he really wanted to know the answer.
Peggy avoided his gaze, finished chewing her bite of chicken cacciatore and pushed a piece of zucchini around her plate before she answered. “Because I wanted to see you again.”
He smiled. “And why would you want to see me?”
“Well, you’re not the ugliest guy I’ve ever taken back to my apartment.”
“Thank you,” he said, hugely entertained. “And?”
“You left your lips at my place and I wanted to return them to you.”
“That’s so generous. A man with no lips is a tragic sight. He’d never be able to kiss another woman.”
“Yeah, and I was worried about that.”
“So when are you going to give my lips back? Where are they, in your tote bag?”
“Nope.”
“Tucked in your bra?”
“Nope, not there, either.”
His smile widened. “Oh, lower down, then?”
Her white teeth flashed. “Yup. They’re all puckered up and I’m sitting on them.”
Troy choked. “Are you trying to tell me that I’m kissing your freckled little ass?”
“It’s the natural order of things, dude.”
“I am so going to enjoy punishing you for this later.”
She laughed. “Promises, promises. Maybe you’ll get the chance, and maybe not. My aunt Thelma would say you got way too much free milk last night.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I figure you’d get upset if I tried to pay you for it.”
Peggy threw her napkin at him.
“So that’s not what Aunt Thelma is suggesting?”
“Not exactly.”
Benito came over to ask if their food was okay, and they assured him that it was delicious. He brought them each another glass of wine without asking.
“You trying to get us drunk, Benny?” Peggy asked.
“Sì, so you can take advantage of him.”
Troy could think of nothing he’d like better. His appetite right now was not for food, it was for Peggy. Forget scruples and ethics and all that…he wanted to reach across the table and pull her into his arms. He wanted her ripe, soft mouth; he wanted her full breasts filling his hands, her pink nipples thrusting against his palms.
He wanted her lips on his cock and her sweet ass riding him, urgency filling her as much as he did. He wanted to be sliding into her hot, wet body, smell her desire and hear her gasps and whimpers in his ear as he sent her into a frenzy.
Jesus. He had to get a hold of himself—they were sitting in a public restaurant, and he was so hard he could knock a plank off the table.
Opposite him, Peggy picked up a bread stick and met his eyes as she brought it to her mouth. Christ, she was reading him like a book. Her eyes slanted like a cat’s, she darted out the tip of her tongue and licked at the end of the bread. She wrapped her lips around it and pulled gently. Then she slid it halfway into her mouth, caressing the bottom of the stick with her tongue.
“I’m so gonna make you pay for this,” Troy said hoarsely.
Peggy bit the end off the bread stick. “Mmm.”
That was when he felt something sliding against his crotch. Troy grabbed it and found that it was her small renegade foot.
Her eyes on his, her hand still wrapped around the bread stick, she flashed him a wicked smile. “Sporting wood, are we? Naughty, naughty.” She nudged his balls with her toe, and that was the last straw.
Troy gripped her ankle, forced her foot up and searched for some kind of revenge that was acceptable in the middle of a restaurant. He began to tickle the bottom of Peggy’s foot.
She had just the reaction he was looking for. She pulled hard to get away from him, banging her knee on the underside of the table and making the candles jump.
Troy smiled blandly and kept tickling.
She squeaked and yanked again, unable to get away. “Let go!” she snapped, dropping the bread stick.
“Why, little Miss Perv, are you ticklish? What a shame for you…should have thought of that before you started this, huh?”
“I hate you!”
“I know. It bothers me a lot, as you can see.” He trailed his index finger from big toe to arch and then down to her heel, and she went nuts.
Peggy thrashed and gave a final mighty yank, just as he let go. She tumbled backward off the bench and onto the ceramic-tiled floor, still wearing only one shoe. He could see her blue satin underwear under the short jean skirt.
The other guests eyed her curiously, while Troy laughed so hard he almost blew the manicotti off his plate. “You okay?”
Peggy sat up just as Benito rushed over. “I’m fine, Benny. Thanks.” She pushed the hair out of her face and sent Troy a Death Stare. “Our landlord just seems to have this effect on women.”
THEY LEFT BY THE BACK DOOR, and as soon as it had shut Troy pinned her against the stucco wall of the building and took her mouth. The little witch was making him crazy. He would have swallowed her whole if he could have.
His hands roamed her breasts freely, moving up to cup them under her stretchy top. She moaned. Damn if he didn’t want to take her right against the wall, here. He slipped his fingers under her skirt and cupped her soft bottom, then dove lower and pulled aside the panties.
He fumbled at his fly, almost crazy with the desire to push inside her. He freed himself and pulled up her skirt.
She broke the kiss and pushed at his chest. “Someone might see us!”
“I find it so hard to care about that right now. And there’s nothing back here but a five-foot fence and some sky.” He stroked the soft wet folds between her legs and watched as her head fell back, felt her thighs begin to tremble. She was beautiful. And he wanted her right now.
She whimpered and her breathing turned shallow, came fast. Troy lifted her and sighed with satisfaction as her legs went automatically around his waist. He positioned her so that he probed her slick entrance and then thrust up in a single, almost savage motion.
She made a soft sound of shock and pleasure, and he slid his hands down to her bottom to support her, doing his best not to bang her against the wall as he stroked in and out of her. He felt like a caveman, was acting like one, too, and didn’t care. She didn’t appear to mind, and that was all that mattered. But…he really, really didn’t want to stop and fish out a condom. “Birth control?” he gasped.
“Pill,” she managed.
Relief filled him. “Let me see your breasts,” he said, sliding in to the hilt again and knocking the breath out of her. Her hair was tumbled over her shoulders, hanging in her eyes, which were half-closed with desire. She nodded, her lower lip caught between her teeth.
He bent forward and took it between his own, wanting to possess everything about her. He wanted her body and soul, completely at his mercy. “Let me see,” he said again once he’d released her mouth.
She pushed up her top, pulled down her bra so that her breasts poked impudently over it. Troy pulled out just enough so that he could bend his head to them, capture a nipple between his lips and suck hard. She cried out, he released it and drove into her. He worked her into a frenzy; she met his thrusts with the same urgency; until he hit some nerve deep inside of her. She gasped, arched her back and convulsed against him, shaking.
Just the sight of her, the feel of her losing control sent him over the edge, too. He pushed himself as far as he could into her sweetness and heat and spilled himself inside her, cursing softly.
He stood like that, embedded in her, until he realized how uncomfortable she must be, and gently lifted her off him, setting her on her feet. She automatically straightened her clothes, probably still fearing discovery, but not even a mosquito seemed to have witnessed their public indecency.
He noticed that her thighs were shaking and she could barely stand up. He gathered her in his arms, pulling her against him. He kissed her hair. “You okay? I’m sorry I was rough—I don’t know what got into me.”
“I wanted it rough,” she said into his chest. She bit his nipple through his shirt, bit it hard.
“Ow!”
Peggy tipped back her head and smiled at him in the darkness. “Where are we going for round two, cowboy?”
SHE RODE HIM in the moonlight on his freshly screened back porch. His entire yard was surrounded by a virtually impenetrable ficus hedge, ten feet high. It was one of the few things he liked about the place, since it offered total privacy.
The scents of sex, new wood and citrusy lantana mingled with the night air. A touch of chlorine from the pool intruded, too.
But mostly what he smelled was her: a green-apple eau de parfum, a honey-coconut shampoo, a tinge of sporty deodorant and the rich, natural musk of her body’s secret places.
He lifted her easily, in spite of her protests, and rolled her under him, pinning her with his big body. Then he ate every succulent inch of her, drawing her flesh into his mouth and savoring it.
Feeding at the juncture of her thighs, he reduced her to begging before he rolled her onto her stomach and settled his cock in the cleft of her buttocks. He slipped his fingers down, found her lips and parted them. Then he thrust into her once again, unbelievably turned on when she raised her bottom to meet him, taking her weight on her knees.
She raised her torso on her hands, too, and her heavy, lush breasts swung free. He reached around her waist for them and pleasured them as he stroked into her, pulled out, rammed himself in again until he thought he’d die from the sheer ecstasy of it.
He squeezed her breasts gently, toyed with the nipples until she arched her back, cried out and ground against the root of him, body trembling and convulsing around him. He thrust two, three more times—and then collapsed over her, murmuring her name.
THEY WENT SKINNY-DIPPING afterward, bodies slipping through the cool, silky water. It soothed all the parts of them that were oversensitized, allayed some of the burning that Peggy felt between her legs. Troy’s body looked even bigger submerged in the water, her own small and white beside him.
There was a shelf at the deep end of the pool, and he tugged her over to it, then into his lap. He folded his arms around her and they sat in the water listening to the night noises: the wind in the trees, the cicadas in song, the frogs’ amphibian baritone.
This is as close as it gets to heaven on earth.
She snuggled back against his hard chest, feeling safe and protected and thoroughly sexed-out. She didn’t think about the future much, just that Troy had been sweet to have concerns about dating his nieces’ coach. That showed a rare, old-fashioned honor that you didn’t see much these days….
She gazed inside at his house, which he laughingly referred to as the hovel. It wasn’t one, but the ancient old-person furnishings like the avocado-green couch and the gold-and-orange-and-brown crocheted afghan hadn’t been what she’d expected.
She’d thought his living room would be dominated by a massive wide-screen television, wall-to-wall carpet and a big, ugly black leather couch. Nothing could be further from the truth. The floors were scarred pine and the TV was a relic from the 1960s, tiny and sporting rabbit-ear antennae that made it look like a martian’s suitcase.
The kitchen was something out of a time warp, too: old-fashioned cabinets with 1950s handles, an unspeakable stove and a refrigerator that she’d swear was powered by squirrels running on a wheel. The only “modern” addition was a gray plastic answering machine, its wires trailing from the wall-mounted phone.
The slick decorator-chosen furnishings of most pro ball players weren’t in evidence. No bearskin or tiger-head rug. No trophy case. No revolving round bed under a mirror.
“Where are your things?” she asked him. “These must have come with the house.”
“Gorgeous, aren’t they?” He chuckled. “All my stuff’s in storage. I’ll bring it in when I’m done remodeling the place. We’ll be making a huge mess, knocking out walls and redoing the roofline. I’d rather trash the poor old geezer’s furniture than mine—and I have to sit on something.”
“So we’re both making a new start,” Peggy said. “You came down here from Gainesville, I came down here from Connecticut.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I never want to be financially dependent on the whims of a team owner or an athletic program again.”
She had to ask. “So did you leave a girlfriend behind?”
His arms stiffened. “No. No girlfriend. There were a few women who kept trying out for the position, though.”
She slid under his arms and under the water. When she surfaced, she shook water out of her eyes. Treading water, she said, “Trying out for the position?”
He shrugged. “I know how arrogant that sounds. Sorry. But it’s true. There hasn’t been a shortage of women in my life, most of them annoying and with no identities of their own. They want me to validate them somehow, and that disgusts me. I don’t want to be used—not for money, not for status, not for an identity. I guess that’s the reason I’m still single and most of my old teammates are married.” Troy changed the subject, unwilling to dwell on the fact that he no longer had money or status. Now he was just a guy who mowed his own lawn, like everyone else.
“So why did you come down here from Yankeeland?”
She rolled onto her back in the water and stared up at the stars. “To get away from the stupid, lying bastard whom I almost married.”
“Care to share any details?”
“B-league hockey player, steroid user, gambler, loser. Replaced the stone in my engagement ring with a “nicer” one, a big honking CZ. But I knew about his gambling debts and figured it out.”
“Nice.”
“Yeah. The funny thing is, I never even wanted a diamond in the first place. I’m not really into that stuff. But Eddie insisted. I think he didn’t want to look bad in front of his friends. Of course, he ended up looking worse than he could have imagined—though a couple of them called me a bitch and couldn’t understand why, if I never wanted a rock in the first place, I’d be bothered by a fake one. Eddie drove around with a bumper sticker on his Saab after that—‘Why buy her a diamond? She won’t live forever.’”
“God. The guy sounds like a real charmer.”
“Irresistible. I pine after him to this day,” Peg said dryly. She rolled to her stomach again and dove under the water. When she surfaced again, she told Troy, “It ended up being the best thing that ever happened to me. I love it here, the kooky mix of people, the internationalism, the sun and water. You’ve got the beach bums in their flip-flops, the show-offs dripping diamonds and designer duds, the students with their backpacks, the moms with their toddlers and the old guys with their cigars and Guayabera shirts.” She swam down the length of the pool, doing an easy sidestroke.
On the return lap, she continued. “What I love most, though, is being part of After Hours. We have a little community there, whacky as it may be. It’s our corner of the world where we get to have fun working and make other people feel good. Transform them sometimes, other times just maintain their sanity in a crazy existence…a manicure can lift a woman’s spirits for the rest of her day. Or a great haircut. We get models coming in here on their way to the clubs, but we also get exhausted moms who wouldn’t make it through their weeks without a massage. I have one who can only afford it every six weeks or so, on the change she collects in a jar. She can’t tip much, but I adore her. It makes me feel good to make her feel good.”
Troy had an odd expression on his face and his gaze had grown distant. “Peggy,” he said, “I need to tell you—” He broke off as the phone rang inside the screen porch. “Who the hell is calling me at 1:00 a.m.? This can’t be good.”
He hoisted himself over the edge of the pool and strode, wet and naked, toward the porch. She was riveted by his body, sleek and silvery in the moonlight. The broad shoulders, the long lean legs, the powerful musculature of the whole. Maybe I hate jocks and football players, but I sure do like to look at them nude.
“Hello?” Troy answered the phone. “Samantha, what’s wrong?” He swore. “Call the cops!” He listened a moment more. “You know what? There comes a time when you just can’t worry about that. He’s doing it to himself. Call them.” He swore again. “I’ll be right there.”
“Troy?”
“I have to go. My asshole brother-in-law has just shown up at my sister’s house drunk. He’s trying to kick in the door, and she won’t call the cops because of the kids. Anyway, it’s still half his property, so I don’t know what the cops could do unless he’s actually threatening her or them. Right now all he’s trying to do is see them.”
“I’ll come with you.” She was out of the pool already, and hunting for her clothes on the porch.
“You don’t want to get involved in this.”
“The girls—maybe I can help with them.”
“Sam’s there, and she’s their mother.” He was already headed for the door, keys in hand.
Peggy ran after him, half-dressed. “She may not be able to handle her own emotions, much less theirs!”
“Fine. Whatever.” Even under these circumstances, he opened the passenger-side door for her, though he almost threw her inside. They were squealing out of his driveway in seconds.
She finished dressing in the car, and pulled her hair back into a ponytail with a rubber band she found in her tote. Troy’s face had set into hard lines, his jaw clenched.
“Does your brother-in-law have a gun?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Christ, I hope not.”
“Has he ever raised a hand to your sister?”
“His specialty has always been punching holes through drywall and occasionally turning furniture into projectiles. He’s never actually hit her or the kids. But he’s drunk, and he’s stupid, and I don’t like this situation at all. He disappeared on them seven months ago, and I wish like hell he’d stayed gone.”
Peggy echoed his sentiment. As she clung to the seat while they careened around corners and broke the speed limit, all she could think about was Danni and Laura and their brother, the helpless child victims in this situation.
She felt a soul-deep rage at men who terrorized and hurt the women and children in their lives, and quite frankly she hoped that Troy, who appeared to be one of the good guys, would beat the living snot out of his brother-in-law. Maybe it wouldn’t solve anything, but it would sure be satisfying.
