Flirting With Temptation (9 page)

“You knew I’d like that,” he said, as her inner muscles clenched around him, and then she flattened her palms on his chest and gripped his pecs as she took her body where it wanted to go, without a care that the window was open and the world was just outside. In this room, at this moment, nothing existed but the two of them, exactly the way Jeff wanted it.

Jeff’s heartbeat had still been thudding rapidly when the bathroom door opened and Kitty emerged wearing a long pale blue gown.

She looked at him, then at the window. “Oh, honey, the drapes are open.” Without a word to Jeff, she crossed the room and closed them. Then she moved slowly toward the bed. Jeff couldn’t see her, his eyes still trying to adjust to the sudden darkness.

“Now,” she whispered, easing onto the bed beside him, “everything is perfect.”

The shrill ring of the phone snapped Jeff back to reality. Glancing at the caller ID, he answered, “Don’t tell me; you’ve got more surprises heading my way.”

Ethan laughed on the other end. “Hell, you don’t think your ex-ex driving down there to get you back with your ex is enough for one day?”

“Trust me, it’s plenty. What’s up?”

“Clarise wanted me to inform you that if you’re mean to her sister, she’ll kill you.”

Jeff grinned. Those Robinson sisters, always protecting each other, even when the hellion of the pair was, once again, causing trouble. “Don’t worry. I won’t be mean. I’m just going to tell her she’s wasting her time and that she can get her cute behind back to ’Bama pronto.”

Cute behind. Obviously, Jeff had been thinking about her adorable ass or he wouldn’t have mentioned it. He really needed to get onto his date with Kylie, and get his mind off hellions and socialites.

“Well, I told my wife I’d ask you to play nice.”

“Tell her you did, and I’ll do my best.”

Ethan relayed the message on the other end, then said, “So, Babette hasn’t made it down there yet? Clarise says she should’ve been there by now.”

“Maybe she wised up and didn’t make the trip.”

“I highly doubt that. Anyway, take it easy on her. You may not have to see her again, but I have to deal with her on a regular basis.”

“Like I said, I’ll do my best.” They disconnected, and Jeff grabbed his computer and headed toward the balcony. He’d come home to enjoy the beach while he worked, and he wasn’t going to let this wild scenario with Babette and Kitty ruin that. He’d simply wait for the “love doctor” to arrive, and then send her on her lovely way.

Chapter 5

B
abette had planned her day perfectly. With Granny Gert’s help, she’d been packed and ready to go by nine-thirty. She swung by the bank and deposited Kitty’s check and was on the interstate heading south by ten, which would have put her arrival in Destin at four, the exact time she could check in at the condo. But then she’d started through Montgomery, spotted a TJ Maxx just off the interstate and simply
had
to stop. With Kitty’s money in her account and a new hair color to boot, she couldn’t deny the need to buy a few necessities for the beach, such as new bikinis and beach frocks.

Beach frocks. That was Olivia Eubanks’s term for the casual, girly cover-ups so popular for wearing over swimsuits and strolling in the sand. Babette sighed. She really liked Jeff’s mother, but since their weird split, she’d only spoken to Olivia that one time at Richard and Genie’s wedding. Maybe she should call her up and say hello.

She laughed. Jeff would probably die if she called Olivia. But the truth was, Babette
had
connected with Olivia, and she shouldn’t lose that connection because her son hadn’t ever called her back—or because he’d picked a prominent socialite over Babette.

What
did
he see in Kitty?

Attractiveness. Intelligence. Success.

No
, she wasn’t going there again. She and Kitty were night and day, no doubt about it, but she remembered a time when Jeff had liked the night portion of that pair.

She glanced down at the emerald green “frock” that she’d decided to wear out of the store, in case she happened upon Jeff when she arrived in Destin. Everyone knew green was the best color for redheads. If she only had green eyes, rather than plain brown, then everything would be perfect, but hey, she was as close as she could get without colored contacts.

The outfit was meant to be a cover-up, but Babette was wearing the gauzy all-in-one as her main attire. Her only attire, truth be told, since she’d forgone a bra and panties, not wanting strap lines and panty lines messing up the “look.” And this was a very good look, if she did say so herself.

Basically it was a top and shorts made together, buttoning up the front and reminding Babette of the rompers that she and Clarise had worn as little girls. It didn’t look all that impressive on the hanger, but due to the saleswoman’s persistent urging, Babette had tried it on, and she was glad she had. The hanger had disguised the way the sheer fabric played peek-a-boo with tiny pinpricks dotting the cloth. And the waist was tapered, fitted so it created curves that were nonexistent in Babette’s usual clothes. Wonder of wonders, she actually had hips. The shorts were extremely short and flared to give the appearance of a teeny, tiny skirt.

A teeny, tiny skirt that would make Jeff’s jaw drop.

Exactly the effect she was going for.

She turned off of Highway 98 and made a beeline for Jeff’s condo at the White Sands resort. It was six-thirty, due to her shopping spree in Montgomery, but that was okay. The new clothes were a necessity. And the fact that she’d arrived a couple of hours after the check-in time wasn’t a huge issue. She’d worn the sexy outfit on the off-chance that the two of them ran into each other when she was checking in, but the truth was she didn’t expect to run into Jeff today. She remembered his usual schedule, and at six-thirty, he’d either still be working at one of the Eubanks stores nearby—Panama City, Fort Walton, or Seaside—or he’d be cooking an early dinner while he worked from the computer in his condo. So, chances were he was indoors somewhere and would stay there until the sun set, when he’d go for his usual evening walk on the beach.

Jeff was business-oriented and did his job well, but he rewarded himself by ending his workdays with nightly walks on the sand. Babette had enjoyed those walks too, and the way they’d occasionally take an evening swim.

Babette shook off that image. She so did not need to go there now. Yes, she was glad Jeff was a creature of habit and probably wouldn’t be outside when she arrived. She wanted a good night’s sleep and a little more time to prepare before she saw him. Walking up and stating, “Hey, I’m here to get you back with the ex-fiancée who dropped you for a sailorboy,” didn’t quite take the ticket. Sailorboy? Yachtboy? Richboy? Samuel Farraday qualified as all of the above, but it didn’t matter; Babette would not use that particular icebreaker.

No problem. She’d figure out what to say, after some sleep. Last night, Cecile had kept her up well past midnight curling, conditioning and coloring the red spirals that now whipped madly around her face due to the breeze blowing through her car windows. They’d attacked her eyes like wild red whips from Birmingham to Montgomery, so naturally she’d purchased a pair of really amazing sunglasses at TJ Maxx; and they did their job, kept her hair out of her eyes while she was driving
and
made her look ultra-cool in the process. Not bad. They also disguised the hint of puffiness and dark circles under her eyes, due to her insistence upon a new ’do.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow she’d see Jeff and start the two-fold progression to one, make him realize he was a fool for not calling her back, and two, get him to give Kitty another chance so Babette could keep her business thriving, taking full advantage of Kitty’s extra-healthy chunk of cash and her connections in the Birmingham society scene.

A big gust of wind passed through the window, and she inhaled thick salty air. She really loved it down here and was slightly miffed at herself for not returning since her split with Jeff. A beach vacation would’ve been nice, but it’d have also taken money, and heaven knew she hadn’t had much of that. However, thanks to Kitty, that was changing. And the additional clients that would come because of Kitty could change it permanently.

“Wild ride, lady!” The screaming kid was perched outside of a hut-shaped shop speckled with airbrushed T-shirts and car tags. He held a fluorescent green T-shirt, apparently his item to be painted, since he was standing in line with a horde of other kids waiting for the airbrush artist to embellish their purchases. As if Babette hadn’t heard him, he waved the shirt in the air and yelled again, and the remainder of the line turned to see what had caught his attention.

Babette smiled and patted the dash. She’d grown so accustomed to heads turning when she drove Sylvia, her pet name for her CRX, that every now and then she forgot how unique the vehicle was. Sylvia was one of a kind, for sure, but not in the Lamborghini or Ferrari arena. She was more like that car Johnny Cash sang about, made up of a wild conglomeration of pieces and parts.

A teenager who lived next to Babette at her old apartment, the one she lived in before she moved next door to Granny Gert, was a vo-tech student, and Babette had let him and his classmates practice on Sylvia. The only problem was that she had no say in the final product, and they never practiced the same technique on the entire car. As a result, Sylvia was truly eclectic. The body on the driver’s side was pale purple. For a couple of years, the passenger’s side had simply been primer, but the boys had finally given it a shiny candycoat finish, transparent red over gold. The hood was royal blue with a hot pink swirling flame that looked like something straight off
Pimp My Ride
.

Babette had considered getting a more conservative, or at least more normal, vehicle after she’d started the Love Doctor venture, but Sylvia was paid for, ran great and got a lot of attention. And, God help her, Babette liked attention.

Another surfer dude whistled as she cruised down the street, and Babette whistled back. Damn, she’d missed the beach. And beach guys. She wouldn’t have even considered anything more than whistling at the guy (and she did that while her car was moving away from him); he looked nineteen, early-twenties tops, and she wasn’t ready to be a cougar. But that was the great thing about Florida and the beach. The guys would flirt, she could flirt back, and that was that. There wasn’t any third date consideration, because there wasn’t a first or second date to begin with. It was a fun, free-spirited atmosphere with sand and sun and waves, and Babette truly blended well here. Well, maybe “blended” wasn’t the right word. She stood out, from her car to her hair to her clothes, but standing out wasn’t a bad thing. The locals and the tourists seemed to appreciate it, which was emphasized again when a passing car honked, and then the guy inside whistled.

Babette whistled back. Drive-by flirting. You didn’t get safer sex than that.

She saw Jeff’s resort, towering several stories above the other condominium complexes along the beach. It was stark white with a royal blue roof and the White Sands logo, a matching royal blue wave along one side. Awnings of the same bright hue extended from the wide windows in the center of the building, and Babette knew from her previous stays that those were the elaborate suites, expansive luxury condominiums that stretched from the front of the building to the back and were the equivalent of four normal-sized condos. Jeff had one of those; the one in the direct center of the building, in fact, and he loved the view that the broad width of the condo provided. The entire back side of his home was wall-to-wall windows.

Babette had thoroughly enjoyed making love to him with those windows open, listening to the waves crash against the beach, feeling the warm breeze against her skin as Jeff undressed her and then distributed feather soft kisses over every inch of her body. She tingled at the memory, almost feeling the tantalizing sensation of that Gulf breeze teasing the damp wake of those heated kisses.

She swallowed. For all she knew, he did the same thing with Kitty. Opened those windows and made love to her like there was no tomorrow, until she thought she’d die from the sheer pleasure of it.

There. That did it. No more reminiscing.

She put on her blinker and started to turn into the resort parking lot, but a blazing red convertible Jaguar whipped in merely inches in front of her, causing Babette to slam both the brakes and the horn. Thank God the brakes worked better than the horn; Sylvia stopped on a dime, but the wimpy excuse for a horn didn’t scare anyone, certainly not the woman in the Jag. She merely tossed her head, sending her sleek brunette hair swinging around her bare shoulders, then gave Babette a fingertip wave and a smile, as though that made the near-wreck acceptable.

If Babette hadn’t just gotten here, and if she didn’t suspect that Jeff’s neighbors might notice a little (or big) tirade in the parking lot—or an all-out cat fight—she’d jump out of this car and give the brunette bimbo a piece of her mind. And her fist. And her foot. But given she didn’t want to cause a scene before she’d even unpacked, she took a deep breath, counted to ten, then started toward the valet. She pulled close, very close, and nearly let Sylvia kiss the bumper on that Jag, but the rude one didn’t even notice. She was too busy sprucing up her makeup while two valet attendants all but fell over each other trying to get to her and her Jag. No one was making any effort whatsoever to tend to Sylvia’s needs, or Babette’s, for that matter.
Bitch!
Babette merely thought the word, but in her mind, she shouted it with fervor, grabbing a fistful of brunette hair as she did.

She squinted toward the woman in the car and tried to determine whether she’d seen her before. The turnover at White Sands wasn’t all that great; people fortunate enough to have a White Sands condo didn’t typically sell. Since she had met lots of Jeff’s neighbors during her past trips, she was fairly knowledgeable about the residents, and even if she didn’t know them by name, she knew the majority of them by sight. But this woman wasn’t anyone she’d seen before. And something about her, and the way she’d cut Babette off, put her in a snooty classification that was all her own.