Bikini Season (16 page)

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Authors: Sheila Roberts

BOOK: Bikini Season
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Adam saluted her with his glass.
She smiled at him and drank up. Moments like this, when he was being romantic and sweet, were when she remembered why they were an us. Adam was the most perfect man on the planet.
“So, what do you say we go home?”
“Just a little longer,” she begged. “We just got here.”
He slouched back against his chair and consoled himself with another sip of his Scotch.
He had done a lot to make sure she had a great evening. She supposed they didn't have to stay here all night. But. “One more dance,” she said, offering a compromise.
“Okay,” he agreed. “I know that really means three, so let me hit the john first.”
She rewarded him with a smile. Okay, three more dances. That was a very good compromise.
He left and she sat watching the revelers and sipping her drink. Whoa, this stuff was well named. It packed a punch. But it suited her mood. A dark club, a Mardi Gras mask, a new, red dress—it was all a recipe for magic. Maybe she could persuade Adam to stay a little longer. So far the night had been wonderful, but she was sure if they stayed longer they'd go beyond wonderful and find the magic.
She felt a hand on her shoulder and jumped. Adam didn't usually sneak up on her like that. She looked up and saw that it wasn't Adam standing in back of her. It was Zorro.
He didn't say a word, just took her hand and tugged her from her seat. Here was the magic.
But it came with the wrong man. “I'm with someone,” Erin protested.
“Yeah, me,” said Zorro, and towed her out to the dance floor.
It was a slow dance. Adam would be pissed. And he'd kill Zorro.
Bob Seger and Martina McBride sang “Chances Are” as Zorro drew Erin up against him and started them swaying. The body contact sent a zing from her bra to her … “Dan!” She pulled back.
“No. Zorro,” he corrected her in a phony Spanish accent.
She frowned at him. “What are you doing here? Why aren't you at work?”
“I've got Fridays off now, for good behavior.”
“Well, this is not good behavior,” she informed him. “My fiancé will be here any minute.”
“So?”
“So he won't like me dancing with you.”
“What, he won't let you dance with an old friend?”
“An old nuisance,” Erin corrected.
Dan grinned. It was ridiculous how sexy a strip of black cloth could make a man look. “Aw, come on. You know you love me.” He sobered. “But do you know you love him?”
She jerked out of Dan's arms. “Of course I do.”
“Okay, okay.” He pulled her back to him. “I just want to see you happy. If this is the guy who's gonna do it, then great.”
“Thank you,” Erin said stiffly.
And just when she thought they had this all settled, Dan added, “So tell me why he's the right one.”
“You know, my own brother hasn't given me this kind of third degree.”
“Your bro's a dipshit. Anyway, he's in California. He deputized me.”
Erin gave a scornful snort. “Right.”
“He did. You can ask him. So, tell me, why will this guy make you happy?”
“Because.” Now, there was an impressive answer. It was that Girl Gone Wild. It was fuddling her brain. She couldn't think.
But she could feel. She was very conscious of their bodies
brushing against each other, of Dan's hand warm against her lower back. Ooh, and she was feeling things other places, too.
This is not good,
fretted her inner mother.
“Because?” Dan prompted.
Because? What were they talking about? Oh, yes, Adam. “Because he'll always be there for me.” There. That should explain everything.
“A lot of guys could fill that bill.”
“He was there for me when my mom died.” Adam had been a strong shoulder to cry on, her shelter in the storm, her rock, and she could never forget that.
“Some of us were out of the country when your mom died.”
That time had been a horrible blur, but Erin suddenly remembered the card she'd received from Dan, the one with the military return address. She had it tucked away in a floral hatbox, along with all the other letters and condolence cards she'd received. “Wish I could be there with you,” he'd written. “Hope you have a big wake in your mom's honor. She was an awesome lady.”
Adam had never known her mother.
But he'd known grief, and he'd helped Erin through hers. He'd help her through her whole life. “Adam is perfect for me. He's handsome, he's fun, and he's very together. We'll make a good team.”
“You forgot a couple of things.”
“Like what?”
“Kind. Generous.”
“He's kind. And as for generous, he just spent a fortune on me tonight.”
“It's Valentine's Day. What guy doesn't spend a fortune on the biggest get-lucky day of the year?”
“You're disgusting,” Erin informed him.
“Not disgusting. Truthful.”
She looked over Dan's shoulder and saw Adam approaching. He'd lost the Mardi Gras mask, making it easy to see that he was mad. She put some space between her and Dan.
It was a little too late. When Adam reached them he was looking like he'd just gotten a taste of something sour. “Erin?”
“Adam.” She shouldn't be sounding so flustered. She hadn't done anything to be ashamed of. She may have felt a few things, but … “This is our old family friend,” she began.
“Zorro?” Adam interrupted in mocking tones. He took Erin's arm and pulled her away.
“Dan Rockwell,” Erin finished.
“I guess congratulations are in order,” Dan said easily, ignoring Adam's adversarial behavior.
“Yeah. We're getting married.” Adam may as well have added, “Want to make something out of it?” He turned to Erin. “Come on, let's go home.”
“I thought we were going to dance some more,” she protested.
“I'm all danced out,” he said. “Let's go.”
“Well, nice seein' ya,” Dan said to Erin. Then he leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Here's something else you forgot to put on that short list of McDoodoo's good points: unselfish. I wonder why.” Then with a swirl of his cape he turned and melted into the dark.
“
W
hat the hell did he just say to you?” Adam demanded.
“That you're one lucky guy,” Erin snapped, and marched off the dance floor.
“I don't know why you're acting so pissed,” Adam said once they were in the car. “I'm the one who came back from the john to find my woman dirty dancing with some moron in a Zorro costume.”
“He's an old friend. I was just being polite.”
“I saw how close you were dancing. Pretty damned polite.”
“I've known him since I was kid,” Erin explained. “He's like a brother.”
Adam frowned, facing straight ahead. “A girl dances that close with her brother and they call it incest.”
“Are you going to ruin our Valentine's Day?” Erin demanded.
“Me!”
“You're the one who's fighting.”
He shook his head and kept his gaze on the road.
They drove the rest of the way home in silence.
He stopped the car in front of her house and she turned in her
seat. “Adam, I don't want to fight, especially not after the beautiful night we had together.” All this squabbling, all these prewedding jitters—maybe they should just go to Vegas.
But she didn't want to go to Vegas. She didn't want to cheat herself out of something she'd been dreaming about for a long time.
Even if that dream turned into a nightmare? They couldn't keep going on like this. She couldn't keep going on like this.
Adam let out a long breath and turned to her. “I don't want to, either. I'm sorry.” He reached out and fingered a lock of her hair. “I just saw him with you and lost it. I don't want to lose you. I know we're both under a lot of pressure right now. Once I'm done with school, once you've finished planning the wedding, it will be better.”
Of course it would. She bit her lip and nodded. “But Adam, just because we're under a lot of pressure, we shouldn't take it out on each other.”
“You're right.” He smiled at her and slipped his hand around her neck, nudging her toward him. “Come here.”
She came and he made it worth her while. This was the Adam she loved, the strong, in-control, but tender Adam. “Want to come in?” she whispered.
“You bet.”
Once inside the house she lit candles and poured them champagne, and he stretched her out among the sofa cushions and kissed her crazy. And life was perfect again.
Until Saturday morning, when it was just her and her Valentine memories. She went to the kitchen counter to feed her fish and saw the DVD Adam had given her, still lying where she'd left it the night before, and something dark nibbled at her happy morning afterglow. She picked up the DVD and looked at the cover. There was Sandra Bullock in the arms of Bill Pullman. Sandra Bullock had thought she wanted the man with the big lips and the unibrow, but he'd turned out to be the wrong man.
See any resemblance? whispered a man in a Zorro costume.
She slammed the DVD back on the counter, facedown. No, none whatsoever! That was just a movie, nothing to do with real life. And anyone with a brain could have told Sandra Bullock that Mr. Unibrow was a dweeb. A woman didn't just pick a man because he looked nice in a suit. She picked a man who loved her, who would be good to her, who had the same goals. Erin had done that and she and Adam were going to be happy together, very happy.
And if she ever spoke to Dan Rockwell again, she'd tell him. She'd also tell him to quit messing with her mind. What did he know about anything anyway?
Suddenly, she felt an almost overwhelming need for a doughnut.
You paid a lot of money for that wedding dress.
Who was this? It sounded suspiciously like Adam. Oh, no. No more voices. It was already way too crowded in her head. She didn't need to add an inner Adam. She already heard enough from him as it was.
Eggs. She'd have eggs for breakfast. Eggs were great. She loved eggs. And she was going to fit into her wedding dress. “Don't anybody worry.”
The voices all kept quiet.
 
 
Kizzy left Lionel sleeping and got up early Saturday, determined to go for a walk around the lake before going in to work in the shop. She pulled on some sweats, then slipped out to the kitchen where she boiled herself an egg. That, along with a piece of whole wheat toast and half a grapefruit, made up her breakfast. Very satisfying.
She wished she could say the same for being up early on a Saturday morning. But Oprah got up with the birds every day and exercised. If Oprah, who was the world's busiest woman, could squeeze in morning exercise, then Kizzy guessed she could, too.
She had just loaded her dishes in the dishwasher when Lionel walked into the kitchen wearing his old University of Washington
Huskies sweatshirt and his tattered gray sweatpants. “What are you doing up so early?” she asked him.
“I'm going walking with you and Gus,” he said, pathing the dog's head.
If she'd had a hearing aid she'd have checked to see if it was working. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Lion, you are a changed man.”
“I am.”
She put a hand on her hip and shook her head at him, smiling. “Well, what do you know? He can be taught.”
“We'll see who's teaching who when we start that lap around the lake.” He gave her butt a playful smack. “Come on, Kizzy girl, let's get this fitness train out of the station.”
 
 
“How was everyone's Valentine's Day?” Kizzy asked the next time the Bikinis met at her house.
“I cheated on Valentine's Day. I had champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries,” Angela confessed. “And Brad,” she added with a self-satisfied smile.
“I take it your debut as a pole dancer went well,” Kizzy said.
Angela surveyed her new, hot-pink nails. “Brad is not going anywhere now.”
“He never was,” said Erin.
“How was your Valentine's Day?” Kizzy asked her.
“It was great.”
Erin's lips were smiling, and her voice almost matched them, but not quite. There was an insistence about the way she talked that a woman in love didn't need. Something was not right, and if you asked Kizzy something hadn't been right for a long time. “So, tell us about it.”
“Adam took me to the Two Turtledoves for dinner. And he brought me a single red rose.”
“Wow,” breathed Angela.
“And a DVD. And then he took me to the Last Resort.”
“I heard they were having a big Valentine thing,” Angela said. “How was it? Who all was there?”
“Most of Heart Lake,” Erin said.
“Did a lot of people wear costumes?” Megan wanted to know.
“Oh, yeah.”
“I was half tempted to go,” Megan admitted. “Were there any singles there?”
“A few. Dan Rockwell was there.”
There it was, the something that Kizzy had been looking for, hiding behind an attempt to act casual. “Your brother's old friend?”
“He was there dressed as Zorro. Pathetic,” Erin added, and almost succeeded in looking disgusted.
“I think Zorro is sexy,” Angela said dreamily.
“You're thinking of Antonio Banderas,” Erin informed her.
“So,” Angela said, nudging Erin, “did you make Adam jealous and dance with Zorro?”
Erin rolled her eyes, but Kizzy noticed that she didn't answer yes or no. And her cheeks were suddenly looking sunburned.
“Isn't that the guy who checks over at Safeway?” asked Megan. “The one you almost ran over at the gym?”
Erin nodded and the blush spread.
“He is hot,” Megan said.
Erin shrugged. “He's okay.”
Kizzy waited for Erin to offer to introduce him to Megan. She didn't. Very interesting. “So, how are the wedding plans coming?” she asked.
“Fine,” Erin said brightly. “It's going to be a beautiful wedding.”
But, Kizzy wondered, was it going to be to the right man?
“I'm just glad I have a couple more months before I have to make my maid of honor dress,” said Angela.
“You're married. That makes you the matron of honor,” Megan informed her.
Angela made a face. “Matron, yuck. That sounds old.”
“Well, you are,” teased Erin. “The big three-oh is right around the corner.”
Angela made a face. “Are you trying to drive me to chocolate?”
Erin gave her a bottled water from Kizzy's counter. “Here, have this instead. And remember, it could be worse.” She turned to Kizzy. “How was your big love day?”
Kizzy couldn't help smiling. “Speaking of old?”
Now Erin's face turned crimson. “Nobody thinks of you as old.”
Kizzy shrugged. “Well, compared to you babies, I'm ancient. But, let me tell you, I like where I am. Fifty is great.”
“Fifty is the new thirty,” said Angela. “So,” she added with a grin, “did you and Lionel go at it like you were thirty?”
Kizzy pointed a finger at her. “Don't you go thinking we couldn't,” and the others giggled. “But we did encounter a slight problem.”
“You should have pole-danced for him,” said Angela.
Kizzy couldn't help smiling. “Poor Lionel. He wouldn't have cared even if Beyoncé had pole-danced for him. He threw away his junk food stash and wound up eating half the sugar-free chocolates he got me. Let me tell you, by the time those got done doing a number on his insides, he was one miserable man.”
“Not very romantic,” Angela observed. “Poor Kizzy.”
“Actually, I'm happy with the way things turned out. Lionel's finally on board with us eating right and getting fit, and to me that is about the sexiest thing on earth. And I lost three pounds this week.”
“All right.” Erin made a fist and bumped knuckles with her. “You're our hero. How are you doing, Megan?”
Megan smiled. “Great. I ate sugar free. And I got something for Valentine's Day, something really cool.”
Kizzy looked at her in surprise. Had Megan found romance?
“Okay, so spill,” commanded Erin. “We want details.”
“You met a man,” guessed Angela.
“Better than that. I got a client.”
The others burst into excited congratulations.
“Who, and where'd you find him?” Angela asked.
“It's a her, and I found her at the gym,” Megan said, beaming. “She owns it, and she needs nuisance-suit protection, which I am going to give her.”
“I bet you write a mean cease-and-desist letter,” said Erin.
Megan smiled. “As a matter of fact I do.”
“This should get you in good at the firm,” Erin predicted.
“A toast,” said Angela, raising her bottle of water. “To Megan making partner.”
The others echoed the sentiment and Megan smiled. “Life is good,” she said.
Was it good for Erin? Kizzy had hoped for an opportunity to talk to her a little more about her Valentine encounter with Dan Rockwell, but the women moved on from the subject of Valentine's Day to diets and jobs, and no opportunity presented itself which was frustrating, because Kizzy was really getting concerned now. Erin didn't have a mom to advise her. Every woman needed an older, wiser woman in her corner to offer advice. Who was doing that for Erin? Hopefully, her aunt was. Kizzy wondered if Erin had told her aunt about her encounter with Zorro.
“Okay,” said Megan, when they'd finished her lemon parfaits. “It's time for the No-belly award. Who did the best this week?”
“I'm not even in the running,” said Erin with a frown.
“Me, either,” said Angela, licking her spoon. “But I'll do better next week.”
So it was up to Kizzy and Megan to compare weight loss numbers. And Megan came in the winner.
“Way to go,” Erin told her. “You're making us all look like slackers. So, drum roll, please, while I go get the trophy.”
She disappeared into the hallway while the other women drummed a tattoo on Kizzy's dining room table with their fingers. Then she bounded back into the dining room, holding a golden lady body builder trophy and crying, “Ta-da! And now, let me present
this symbol of achievement to this week's keeper of the No-belly. Way to go, Megan,” she finished, and they all applauded.

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