Breaking Hearts (21 page)

He clucked his tongue. “I saw you on television Friday and you looked a little brassy.” He set the heavy bag on the table and extracted the magical bottles--dyes, gels, mousses, wax, conditioner, Heavenly Gate shampoo--that would have me back to glowing in no time--well, in about two and a half hours, anyway. “And, in my book, brass is a hair emergency.”

After the kind of hug I saved for special occasions--weddings, births, visits from a master colorist with scissors--the processing began. He stood to the side, chewing a thumbnail, considering me from every angle as he tilted his head. He’d trimmed, colored, conditioned, spritzed, gelled, and sprayed my hair into a flattering style without chopping off a lot of length.

I checked out my new do in a hand mirror. “You are a hair genius.”

“Everybody has to be good at something.”

By the sly little grin turning his lips heavenward, I knew he had more to add.

“I happen to be good at everything.” He wiggled his brows and dropped down in the chair. “I have been after your boyfriend”--he rolled his eyes--“for weeks to let me get a hold of that mop on his head to put some fresh color in it.”

Visualizing Simon sitting still for thirty minutes with enough foil in his hair to pick up Spanish television produced a smirk.
Challenge accepted.

He cocked his hip, balling his fist and punching it into the bone. “What? You think I can’t convince him?”

“I could convince him, but you? Not so much.” I looked him up and down. He’d toned down his previously eccentric wardrobe choices and wore jeans and a T-shirt advertising his salon. He was a little too masculine, but not masculine enough to have any kind of power over Simon.

“Whatever. Our little golden god has changed since his accident. I think you might find he’s not so easily swayed by your pitiful powers of persuasion.” He narrowed his eyes and grimaced as though my persuasive attributes were in need of some surgical enhancement.

“Are you challenging me, diva boy?”

“My diva days are over. I will simply force him to sit in the chair while I work my magic.”

I laughed and he put his hands to his cheeks and made a perfect circle with his lips. “I suppose you have a better plan?”

“What do I get if I win?” I didn’t care about Simon’s highlights or the prize at the end, but it had been a while since anyone joked with me. I missed it.

“Oh, no, little sister. When
I
win, and it will be me, you have to cook my dinners for a solid month. And no hamburger helper. I want full meals like your momma makes--steak and potatoes, fresh picked corn, garden green beans, and I’m thinking some mac and cheese that melts on your tongue.”

“Again, if I win?”

He sighed. “If you win--not to be repetitive, but I find it highly unlikely--but
if
you win, what do you want?” He huffed his bangs out of his face and drilled his fingers on the counter, while I contemplated a suitably nasty punishment.

“You have to clean the stable for a week.” I could have pressed for longer, but he’d never have survived more than a seven day span of shoveling manure. I’d probably end up in court for that one too.

“Deal.” We shook on it, and then Gatlin looked up at me with narrowed eyes. “And no using that body of yours to entice him, either.”

I dropped my mouth open. “No way. I get to use all my weapons the same way you’ll use yours.”

“I have no weapons. I plan to use sheer force.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. The idea of someone built like Gatlin--tall, lanky, his muscle-tone mostly in his brain--producing enough force to badger someone like Simon into bending to his will, didn’t seem likely. Before I could respond, Simon strolled in. He dropped a quick kiss on my lips as Gatlin clucked his tongue. “That’s cheating, girlfriend.”

I pulled back.

“What’s cheating?” Simon tugged me in close to his side.

I didn’t resist when he tilted my chin up and gave me the toe-curler. When we parted, I waved a hand toward Gatlin. “Ignore the diva. He just came over to do my hair, and he’s afraid you’re going to mess it up.”

Simon chuckled and Gatlin shot me a narrow-lidded glare. He turned to shove his bottles and emollients into his bag. After a few seconds, he whirled and stared at Simon. “Let me put highlights in your hair.” His demand burst out loud and strong.

Simon looked from me to Gatlin. “No.” His almost quiet reply lacked enough force to bring an end to the subject.

Gatlin slammed his fists onto the counter. “Come on.” He spoke the words through clenched, pearly white teeth. If he thought pestering Simon into compliance would work, he’d forgotten how to win a bet with me.

“No way.”

“Come on.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Simon narrowed his eyes but smiled. He ran a hand down my back to tuck a finger into my belt loop, pulling me even closer. He moved past Gatlin to fold his body into a chair at the table.

I glided over to him--yes, glided--then straddled his lap. My chest rubbed against his as my hips shimmied a bit more than necessary. I plunged my fingers into his long semi-blond locks. “It would be kind of sexy.”

His gaze honed in on my tongue as it ran along my lower lip. “You think?” His nose scrunched, but I had him.

A surge of victory sweetened the words out of my mouth. “Oh, yeah.” I nodded, staring into his amber colored eyes. “Girls appreciate guys who put in that kind of time to look good.” I gave him the coyest look in my arsenal of sweat-inspiring gazes. “At least, I do, and when I appreciate something, I am very”--I leaned in close to glide my tongue along the shell of his ear before I whispered--“very grateful.”

“Okay.” His voice squeaked out an octave or so higher than normal. He cleared his throat. “I mean, you know.” He found his natural tone once again as he relaxed his arms and slouched a bit under my weight. “I guess a couple of highlights would be okay.”

“Sweet.” Gatlin pulled me aside as I climbed off Simon. He leaned down. “You cheated, you hussy. I’m not cleaning stalls.”

“Welcher.”

“Cheater.”

We hissed insults back and forth before he started mixing color.

The next night, my parents loaded up and took Kieran to Midland for dinner and a movie, leaving me home with nothing but the TV to keep me company. I crawled into bed early and had just fallen asleep when a clink-clink of rocks against my window woke me. After throwing the covers off, I pushed up the sash with one hand, wiping the sleep from my eyes with the other.

Simon stood on the front lawn, smiling up at me. “Come out and play with me?”

I could think of worse ways to be roused from a half-worried sleep. “I have to get dressed.”

“It’s clothing optional.” He yanked his shirt over his head.

I giggled like a schoolgirl--high pitched with a tinkle of giddy attached. “You’re crazy.”

“Crazy about you.” He swirled his hips and flicked open the button to his jeans.

“You getting naked out on my front lawn. What will Mrs. Hopewell think?” I propped my elbows on the window frame and my chin on my fists. If he wanted to get down and dirty, I’d never forgive myself if I missed a single hip gyration. “Ah, screw her. Take it all off, baby.”

He laughed and took three running steps toward the porch. Using my mother’s heavy marble planter, he vaulted high enough to reach the guttering on the porch that ran parallel to my room. Using either momentum or his vast upper body strength, he made it to the gap between the roof and my side of the house. His muscles bunched and relaxed as he wind-milled his arms, preparing for the next jump. At least ten feet of nothing but air remained between him and my window. “I’m coming in.” He backed up to take a run.

“Don’t! You’re going to fall, Simon. Just climb down and use the front door.”

“Now, where’s your sense of adventure?”

I covered my face, peeking through my fingers as he leaped through the air. His hands connected with my windowsill and he shimmied his way inside.

“You scare the crap out of me.” My heart pounded in my ears as he wrapped himself around me, rolling me on top of him

Instead of answering with words, he brushed the hair from my face, staring at me through half-lidded eyes burning with desire.

“What are you doing here?”

“Sneaking into your room.” He rolled us again until his body rested almost on top of me. Then he leaned down and kissed the corner of my mouth. He moved to the other side as my fingers skimmed over his shoulder.

His gaze held mine while he toyed with the exposed skin of my stomach.

My breath caught. “You’re not very good at sneaking. You probably woke half the neighborhood.”

“I wanted a good night kiss.”

Even if I had a good reason, I wouldn’t have said no. Trembling with need, I yearned to feel his body pressed against mine, to let each of my senses absorb every Simon-detail I could. He kissed with his whole body, caressed with every piece of himself, and because of it, he swallowed the soft whimper that escaped my throat.

When he pulled away, I savored the taste of him as he laid his head on my shoulder. “What am I going to do with you, Dani?”

I slipped my hand on top of his, sliding both up my stomach. “I have an idea.”

He lifted his head and smiled. “You dirty girl.” He nibbled on my earlobe. “I love you. It’s always been you.”

A lump formed in my throat. I had to say something, tell him all the things I felt and the ones he needed to know, but I couldn’t make a sound. I couldn’t form a syllable. He kissed his way down my neck to my shoulder, took the strap of my tank top between his teeth, peeling it down my arm. With stealthy moves I could never have managed, he moved back up to my neck and across my collarbone as a thousand sensations vibrated over my body.

I wouldn’t have stopped, wouldn’t have moved or breathed or done anything to break the spell around us had a loud bang not shattered the sensual haze around me. “What the hell?”

Shoving him away, I stood as though my body hadn’t been reduced to a puddle of liquid passion. He pulled me behind him, grabbed my hair dryer, then tiptoed to the door.

“What are you going to do, blow dry them to death?”

He put a finger over his lips. Without a sound, he mouthed, “Stay here.”

No way. I couldn’t stay in my room while he faced whatever danger lie ahead armed with only a blow drier and his own rousing sense of courage. I leaned in close, popping my arm through the strap of my shirt. “Do you see anything?”

He turned and put his finger to his lips. “Shh.”

As we made it to the landing at the top of the steps, the click of metal stopped me in my tracks. He smacked the intruder in the skull with the blow drier. Shards of plastic ruptured from the side of my very necessary piece of hair equipment.

Luke grabbed the side of his head. “What the hell, Simon?”

“You what the hell, Luke. What are you doing here?”

“Mrs. Hopewell called. She said she saw someone climbing in the window.” He rubbed a spot on his scalp and extracted a tiny piece of plastic. “I’m the hero, here, Einstein. You’re the prowler.”

I chuckled at the absurdity my life had become. “Hero?” I pointed a finger at Luke, then shifted it in Simon’s direction. “Prowler? What does that make me? Should I be clutching my chest and swooning?”

Luke pointed toward the hallway. “Go to bed, Mae West.” He holstered his gun and looked up at Simon. “Next time, use the front door.”

Simon shrugged as though Luke wasn’t staring at the half-naked version of us. “I was going for romance points. Thanks for screwing with my mojo.”

Luke turned and walked down the stairs. “Every once in a while, I forget you have some stuff wrong with your brain. Then you go and pull shit like this to remind me. You’re lucky you didn’t get shot. Again.”

Simon held out his arms and completed a full circle turn. “Haven’t you heard? I’m invincible.”

“Yeah, tell her dad when he sees the front door.”

Monday morning brought with it a few thousand rays of sunlight and another day away from court. Cal had witnesses who were testifying in another case, so the judge postponed the trial for another day.

My mother, who’d made arrangements for Kieran to join a playgroup, stood by, waiting for me to get him ready. When the house phone rang, Mom turned her attention from us to the jingle across the room. She spoke in angry hushed tones as I battled Kieran’s shoes. With a bear-like growl, she slammed the receiver down. “Hey, Big K.” She turned to Kieran with her brightest, toothiest, most fake smile. “Why don’t you go help Grandpa water the flowers while I talk to Mommy?”

He looked at me, his eyes wide. “Did you do something wrong?”

I shrugged. “I never really know, buddy.”

“Well, if you get into trouble, I’ll stand in the corner with you, okay, Mommy?”

I kissed his cheek. “I don’t think I’m in trouble, pal, but thanks.”

He ran out the back door to chat with my dad about flowers and bees.

I turned to my mother. “What’s up, Mom?”

“The women in this town!” One hand white-knuckled the side of a dining room chair as she stared down at me. She made the word “women” into a swear word. “Those--those--
women
think Kieran should wait to join the play group until your trial is over. They’re afraid he might talk about you killing his daddy.” She glared once more at the phone as though the caller could feel her anger. “It would open up some uncomfortable questions for them.”

My blood pounded in my ears. Tears blurred my vision. I stood up all in one motion and nodded slowly. “Really?” These women had been my friends once--the girls I grew up cheering next to, went to college with, and stood up for at weddings too tacky for words. “So they’re too good for my innocent son to play with their kids? I mean, whether I killed Sean or not, Kieran didn’t do a damn thing. He’s a victim no matter how you look at it.”

Mom nodded.

“You know, I kept their secrets. I lied for them. I helped them out of messes too ugly for this town to believe their golden girls could make.” And to prove my point…“Did you know Misty Cannell cheated on David last summer. She called me in California to brag about what a good lover her pool boy is. And Erica McDonald watched that Julia Roberts movie. Then she turned around and fed her husband poison last summer because he stepped out with Cassie Morgan’s nanny. And Cassie had a check-bouncing thing a few months ago. I lent her a thousand dollars to clear it up.”