Flushed (20 page)

Oh. She’d forgotten where the ring had been. One cycle
through a washing machine would only do so much against that kind of ick.

Aside from the tear around her finger, she was merely
scuffed up. Her face. Her hands. Her feet and ankles. She smiled at the
absurdity of having one shoe still clinging to her foot. Truth was, her suit
was probably worse off than she was.

Truth was, she was damn lucky.

She didn’t feel lucky. She felt foolish. Hard to remember
she ran a successful business when she’d recently been weeping with fear on the
roof. Hard to imagine she had any sense at all.

Kim was standing with his brother and a cop wearing shorts.
Kim’s lip was swollen around the split. A small butterfly bandage was white
amidst the purpling splendor of his left cheekbone near his eye. His white
dress shirt was smudged from rolling around on the roof. She could see little
starbursts of wrinkles where she had grabbed him, punched him, cried on him
while he told her he loved her.

And what had she said in return? Shut up.

She was an idiot. No wonder he was leaving.

She made herself look at Kerry. He wore no bandages, but his
white shirtfront was bloodstained. The fall from the rooftop—a fall she thought
would be fatal—had hardly even slowed him down. By the time the police arrived,
he’d bound Steven’s hands with his belt. He was as much a hero as Kim,
especially considering she’d never met the man before.

“I’m so sorry for the trouble, Mr. Glassner. I’ll pay for
the cleaning, of course, and your time if you’ll let me. This has been such a
disaster. I’m sorry you got mixed up in it.”

He and Kim exchanged a look she didn’t understand.

The police officer touched the brim of his ball cap and
withdrew, Kim calling “thanks” after him. Isabelle would swear the cop was
younger than she was. He’d arrived on a bicycle, one of the city cops who still
did that in spite of the risks.

There had been lots of police here, but they’d taken Steven
in a squad car and Bob in an ambulance and gone. The young blond on the bike
seemed to be the last to leave. Even the neighborhood kids had taken their
curiosities elsewhere. Isabelle’s yard was quiet again.

She was exhausted, scooped out, drained. She didn’t want to
say goodbye to Kim here, certainly not while his didn’t-want-to-call-him
brother looked on. She’d rather never say goodbye at all.

And here she was, thinking about herself again, protecting
herself again—and doing it while men to whom she owed a great deal stood here,
themselves dropping from exhaustion.

She might not know what to do, but the hostess within had no
question. “Please come in and rest a minute,” she said. “Have something to
drink.”

Kim pointed to his swollen eye. “Wouldn’t say no to another
Shiner.”

She smiled and let them into the house.

Kim didn’t drink the beer, merely holding the cold bottle
against his face. She fixed him an ice pack to use instead and started a pot of
coffee for the three of them. Kerry excused himself to look up a tow
provider…leaving her alone with Kim in the kitchen. She looked at him, injured
because of her bad judgment, and ached.

“This is where I came in,” Kim said.

“What?”

“The night of your party. This is where we first started
pretending.” He sounded bitter. Mostly, though, he sounded tired. She may not
have been the one to bruise his face, but she’d hurt him, that was clear.

The ache became a pain. She could not let him leave like
this. “This is where I first used you. This is where I thought, ‘Oh, good, a
way to make Steven sorry.’ I wasn’t thinking of you as a real person. I figured
a man as good looking as you would be as skilled a game-player as Steven and
that you wouldn’t mind.

“I should have realized my mistake when you kissed me.”

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he agreed.

“That’s not what I meant.”

The way Kim was leaning against the edge of the kitchen
island suggested he’d be happier sitting down. Maybe lying down. “Would you be
more comfortable in the other room?”

“What did you mean?” he asked.

She swallowed. She’d just braved a rooftop. This
conversation was nothing in comparison. “When you kissed me, I knew you were
different than Steven. I knew you were no manipulator, no game-player. I even
knew
you
knew you shouldn’t have kissed me.” She blushed, but he’d more
than earned her honesty. “I just wouldn’t believe it. It was easier to think
all men were pigs. It was easier to use you, at least at first.”

He nodded, winced and picked up the ice pack again.

“And you agreed to come with me and Stacey and…that man…and
I knew it was awfully nice of you but Steven could be nice too, and Steven
always wanted something, so it was easy for me to pretend that sooner or later
you’d push for whatever it was you wanted and I could get mad and I’d have been
right about you.

“But I wasn’t right about you,” she said. “I’ve never been
right about you. I know that now. I’ve known it since that first time you
kissed me, but I’m, well…”

“A proud woman?” Kim suggested.

“I was going to say ‘stubborn’,” she said, smiling. He
smiled in return. It was still a great smile, swollen lip and all. She started
to tear up again, a hitch in her chest.

“And now it’s too late,” she said.

“Too late for what?”

“To love you,” she said, tears spilling over her cheeks. “I
love you.”

“No,” he said. “No, Isabelle, it’s not.” He wiped her tears
with rough fingertips. “Please don’t cry. You should never cry. If I had my
way, you’d be proud—sorry, stubborn—Isabelle every day of your life. Of course,
in my way, you’d be stubborn in the opinion I was—how did you put
it?—drool-worthy.”

She sniffled. “Thoughtful.”

“A great kisser?”

She smiled, though she knew tears would rip her apart again
later. “The best. You’re perfect.”

“Would you mind repeating that when Kerry gets back?”

Kerry cleared his throat. “No need,” he said. He was
standing in the doorway between kitchen and dining room, clearly uncomfortable
to have intruded on their privacy. “Tow truck is on its way.”

Isabelle backed away from Kim, wiping her eyes. “Oh, good.
Coffee is ready. Do you take cream?”

“Ah, no. I think maybe I’ll just take a walk.” He slipped
away before she could insist. She heard the front door open and Kerry called,
“If you don’t kiss her now, bro, no place in Texas will be far enough to save
you.” The door shut.

Kim shook his head. “Bastard. Always one-upping me.”

Isabelle laughed.

Kim set down the ice pack and reached for her. She put her
arms around him, knowing it’d be small comfort later when she was alone, and
not caring. His left eye was no less intense for seeming smaller within his
swollen face. She tentatively touched his lip.

“I’m so sorry, Kim.”

The corners of his mouth turned up. “What are you talking
about? Bob? You dropped him. You’re my hero.” He pantomimed knocking the side
of her head with his fist. His hands were taped, like a boxer’s. She thought
about the many scars on his body and hoped she hadn’t given him new ones today
with her foolish pride.

She shivered.

He kissed her. His lip slid over hers and she felt the split
and worried, but she wanted it too much to pull away. Maybe it wasn’t as agile
as his other kisses. It certainly wasn’t pressurized steam, inviting her to
throw him on the bed and have her way with him. It was soft and sweet and
lingering.

It felt like goodbye. It would be, if she didn’t let go of
her stubbornness, her obsessive need for control.

She laid her head on his star-wrinkled chest. “So we will
see each other on weekends? Take turns?”

His silence had her wondering if he could feel her heart
hammering. He kissed the top of her head. “You’d do that?” he asked.

“I’d try.” Hardest words she’d ever spoken. They felt as
dangerous as climbing off the edge of the roof.

He squeezed her tight. His breath cycled unevenly—strong,
sharp intake, long slow exhalation. And while the warmth of his body was balm
to her overtaxed nerves, it was some time before his embrace softened and his
posture lost its rigidity.

A big moment for him too, she guessed. That was okay. He was
good at managing risk. He’d help both of them through it. She was in good
hands. Something deep in her gut unknotted. Maybe this is what “getting over
it” felt like. Unbent. Free.

And yet, still terrified.

“Maybe we could make a deal that I’m the only one buying you
cologne?”

“You got it. We can deal on anything you like. Name it.”

“I’d like if you didn’t go at all,” she whispered.

His taped hand played with her curls. “Then I won’t.”

Fresh tears spilled to dampen his shirt. It sounded so easy.
Like something Glib Steven might say. “I don’t mean the tow truck,” she said,
not looking at him.

“I know.”

“But…”

He shushed her and drew her against him again. Hope
struggled for life in her chest. She had a hundred questions, but Kim was dead
on his feet. He’d said he wouldn’t leave. She could give him some time before
he spelled out what that meant for her. For them.

For once, she could let him explain.

She held him until her arms cramped and her tears dried and
Kim’s brother returned.

“Tow truck is here,” Kerry said.

“Kim told me you were good at your work,” she said as Kim
eased away from her, looking as much like a sleepwalker as she felt. Kerry was back
in his vest and suit coat, only the stain on his shirt where a tie should be to
suggest he’d played any kind of role in the rooftop showdown, let alone such an
important one. “I am in awe, and so grateful to you. Do all master jewelers
make house calls?”

“Technically, it was a garage call,” Kim said.

“Only for family,” his brother said at the same time. After
a beat of silence, Kerry smiled. “Garage call. Good one, Kim.”

Kim’s arm lay across her shoulders. He nodded toward Kerry.
“She’s right, bro. You were great.”

Surprise passed over Kerry’s face. Isabelle guessed he
didn’t often hear anything nice from the man who’d so struggled to define
himself on his own terms. She gave Kim a little sideways hug.

“Of course, you’ve got the climbing skill of a piece of
lumber,” Kim added, even his speech slower than usual. She was glad the
paramedics had ruled out concussion.

Kerry smiled. “Maybe someday, you’ll help me do something
about that.”

Kim shook his head, laughing. “I don’t envy Jules the task,
but I’ll bet the kids are natural monkeys. It’ll be fun, climbing with you all,
as a family. I look forward to it.” The brothers might not look much like each
other, but Isabelle saw these strong, resilient men shared a sense of humor. It
gave her hope Kim could come to enjoy his big brother. If fighting side by side
on her behalf helped that happen, so much the better.

They made their way outside. Kerry told her he’d be in touch
when he knew more about the ring and climbed into the tow truck’s cab. Kim’s
Jeep was already fully rigged for towing, the truck’s engine idling.

“It’s not his car,” Kim said. She knew he meant Kerry, that
he couldn’t leave his brother to clean up the details.

“He did an amazing thing today,” Isabelle agreed, but her
fingers twined through Kim’s belt loops. She didn’t want to let him go. He’d
been there for her when she was at her worst, nearly psychotic with fright and
hurt—a horrifying state she would never have allowed him or any man to see if
she’d had a thing to say about it. But he wasn’t any man, was he? He was much,
much more. “I don’t want to say goodbye,” she whispered.

Kim kissed her eyebrow and nuzzled her temple. “Then say
you’ll call me later. You know, just to sleep with me.”

At the reminder of how she’d treated him, tears spilled over
her cheeks again. Kim tried to catch them with his taped up hands. “I’m
joking,” he said. “‘Belle, I’m sorry.”

She nodded, but couldn’t stop the tears. Damn it, she was
just too tired to behave rationally. “Big day,” she sniffed. “First time for buildering.”

“Really? I’d never had guessed.” His smile made her knees
wobbly. He was proud of her? She’d all but wet herself and he was proud of her?
His smile turned shy, and he said, “First time for telling a woman I loved
her.”

Isabelle’s lungs emptied and refused to refill. Her mouth
worked but nothing came out. The man who’d dated hordes of women had never
before?

He kissed her, a kiss of truth and promise that made her
forget to cry, forget to worry, forget to even start breathing again.

“I love you, ‘Belle,” he murmured. “Don’t give up on me.”

Speechless, she watched him slide into the cab beside his
brother and pull the door shut.

Only after she’d waved goodbye did she remember she had a
debt to someone besides Kim and his didn’t-want-to-call-him brother. Even so,
she rested before calling Stacey, who had already been contacted by the police.
She went over to Stacey’s house, helped her friend get drunk enough to cry
about it, then spent the night on Stacey’s sofa where she found herself finally
done with tears. Steven’s scheme had run its course, justice was in motion and
Kim Martin had said he loved her. What more could she ask? Well, plenty,
actually, but she let it go. If she trusted Kim, that’s all she needed.

It was the least he deserved.

The rooftop abrasions on her skin had nearly healed and
still Isabelle waited. Kim called—every day in fact—but he was evasive about
Austin and his promise. “I’ve got a couple more things to work out,” he’d say.
“I want to surprise you.” She kept busy with her business, bringing Stacey on
every client visit and installation, at first because she was concerned about
her friend’s emotional health, and then because it turned out Stacey was really
good at it. Then Kim’s brother called to tell her to expect a large check in
the mail—he’d been right about the ring, and the museum was offering a finder’s
fee. Isabelle contacted her corporate lawyer about creating the Space Craft
franchise Stacey had teased her about. Take a little risk. It seemed it was
finally time.

When she tried to cancel the second Monday-night dinner
party in a row, she got flak from friends who seemed to think she needed the
same kind of cheering up that Stacey did. She gave in, inviting the usual group
including the tentatively reconciled Charlie and Gina. And of course, Stacey,
who told Isabelle she was coming as Isabelle’s date. Stacey had actually pushed
for a “no men” policy at the party. She seemed to have picked up Isabelle’s
recently discarded “men suck” campaign and taken it for her own.

Too bad. Isabelle wasn’t going to entertain without inviting
Kim, but his cryptic reply was, “Almost ready. I’ll be there for the party if I
can.” She tried not to be disappointed.

She laid out a build-your-own-nachos buffet and chopped the
veggies for Stacey’s spinach dip and was happily surprised when Lemley turned
up with a bouquet of daffodils…and the neighbor who grew them. They made a cute
couple.

Kim was the only missing guest when the doorbell rang.
Isabelle flew to open the door, her heart pounding with expectation, only to
find the blond bike-riding cop who’d helped out taking Steven and Bob into
custody. She stepped out on the porch to speak to him rather than disrupt the
party.

“The man calling himself Bob Lewis is part of a local drug
ring,” he told her. “We’ve been able to trace his activities back and discover
the identities of several of his accomplices. I thought you’d want to know.” In
his ball cap and uniform shorts, he should have looked like a hip UPS guy, but
the radio on his shoulder, the bulletproof vest, the handcuffs and weapons
bristling at his belt, all said this was serious business.

“Drugs? What about the ruby? How did it get in my house?”

“Steven Yaeger agreed to hold some stolen merchandise for
this group as part of a loan renegotiation.”

Steven owed Bob money. Isabelle had understood that much,
but she couldn’t close the loop on what the officer was trying to tell her.
“I’m sorry, they deal in drugs and stolen jewelry?”

“No ma’am.” He smiled, apparently realizing he’d lost her,
and relaxed his stance, his body language becoming more approachable without
losing its authority. “A group like this may acquire and hold a cache of stolen
merchandise that’s compact in size but high in value, the ruby ring for example,
and other pieces like it. It makes for convenient collateral when setting up a
deal. When Mr. Yaeger couldn’t produce the ring on demand, his associate took
matters into his own hands.”

“But Bob, or whatever his name really is, didn’t count on me
being such an unforgiving woman.”

He grinned. “No ma’am, I imagine he didn’t. You’ve helped
put a dangerous group out of business.” He had an endearing dimple in his chin.
Just Stacey’s type. At least for the first date.

“I had the help of good friends and family. We’re having a
little get-together tonight.” She gestured toward the house. “You and the other
officers are invited to stop by when you’re off duty.”

Charlie leaned out the front door. He’d been sticking close
tonight, only leaving her vicinity to lavish attention on Gina, who had seemed
remarkably okay with Charlie’s straying. She’d even thanked Isabelle for
counseling Charlie to be honest about it. She could live with his roving eye
and harmless BSing, she’d said. She just needed to believe she was getting the
best Charlie had to give.

It took all kinds, she supposed.

“You okay out here, Isabelle?” her brother asked.

“Fine, Charlie. This is one of the officers who hauled the
trash off my lawn last week.”

“Excellent!” Charlie saluted him with the longneck he was
holding. Stacey stood behind him, peering out toward the porch. Isabelle knew
that look. She’d noticed the dimple.

The officer had apparently done some noticing right back.
“That’s a kind offer, ma’am. I’m actually off duty, just stopping by on my way
home.”

“Call me Isabelle.”

The party got even more man-heavy after that, as off-duty
cops dropped in to say hello. Stacey seemed to enjoy the attention of Officer
Biscuit, as Isabelle privately thought of the young man named Brett. Isabelle
suspected there had even been a bit of smooching in the laundry room, but she
wasn’t going to push. One would hope a police officer wouldn’t turn out to be a
snake like Bob, but Isabelle could respect her friend’s need to proceed with
caution. Not every man could be Kim.

Kim, who hadn’t made it to the party.

Isabelle smoothed the cling wrap over the sides of the bowl
and offered Stacey the leftover spinach dip.

“Keep it,” her friend said. “If I take it, I’ll just pig out
at home.”

The way she said it suggested Isabelle would rather pig out
herself. Had Stacey hung around after everyone else had gone, helping with
dishes, putting away food, gossiping about Lemley and about Charlie, just so
Isabelle wouldn’t be alone?

Couple of weeks ago, she’d been fine being alone. Now…

“I thought the nacho bar worked well,” she said.

Stacey nodded. “Put out anything with cheese as a main
feature and you know the men will love it.”

Isabelle smiled. Stacey had indeed let go of “men suck”. How
had she missed learning from her friend’s resilience all these years?

“Take the dip. Really.”

Stacey failed to protest a second time. Maybe she was
already planning to invite Brett for another round of appetizers.

Within minutes, her friend was on her way home and
Isabelle’s house was quiet. She turned off the lights, took off her shoes and
sat on the sofa to admire her living room by candlelight, the family pictures
once more lined up on the bookcase and mantel, the hats in place on their
display stands. It was as if nothing had ever been broken or pushed out of
shape. Restful. Structured. Predictable. Safe.

Maybe even dull.

There was a knock at the door. Probably Stacey, forgetting
her purse or something. She opened the door. The man on the porch was tall and
lean as a whip. Cleft chin, every-which-way hair and the most incredible eyes,
dark rings around pale irises. He held an armload of tissue-wrapped
flowers—beautiful yellow-rimmed orange tulips.

“Am I late?” he asked.

Isabelle’s center of gravity dropped, her internal organs
melting together with happiness.

“Kim.”

“You didn’t think I’d forget,” he asked, grinning. The
swelling was gone—nothing interfered with the power of his smile. It made her
heart rumba and she hadn’t even known it could dance.

She laughed. She had to. Nothing besides delighted laughter
could possibly make her feel better than opening the door and finding Kim
Martin on her porch looking at her the way he did. She opened the door wider
and he came inside. He wore navy slacks and a fitted dress shirt of exactly the
same shade together with the mahogany leather coat from their date. She put her
arms around his neck. He threw the flowers in the direction of the sofa and
wrapped his arms around her.

Kissing. Soft tease of breath and warm caress of lips. An
unmistakable call to adventure.

Absolute perfection.

“‘Belle, ‘Belle, ‘Belle,” he murmured, his lips moving over
her neck, against her ear, through her hair, across her cheek. “God, I’ve
missed you.”

He lifted her off her feet and set her back down again and
she laughed and held on and kissed him and kissed him and kissed him again.

Laughter had nothing on Kim’s kisses. The combination
positively made her drunk.

“Where have you been?” she asked.

“I
am
late,” he said.

“By days and days,” she said and kissed him some more.

After a time, she noticed a cramp in her neck and stepped up
onto Kim’s feet, the way he’d invited her to, an age ago on the night of the
shattered glass.

“Good idea,” he said. And it was. She figured she was just
enough higher to be able to kiss him for hours without getting tired.

In the course of testing her theory, she managed to drop his
jacket to the coffee table and untuck his shirt. He laughed and began walking
with her still standing on his feet. It forced her to hold on to him rather
than undress him, but the best way to keep her balance seemed to be bending and
spreading her knees, which had its own rewards.

Except he was walking toward the kitchen.

“Bedroom is that way,” she said, indicating the direction
with her eyes.

“Don’t I know it,” he said, “but there’s a few things we
should talk about and I can’t trust myself to do it in there.”

Oh.

He had a point. Her own focus had frayed as their kisses had
become less flirt and more promise, from wondering where he’d been, to
wondering what she might next uncover and touch, kiss, taste…

Kitchen.

“Good idea,” she said. Then she realized he’d said things
they should talk about, not things they should talk about
first
.

“It is good, isn’t it?”

Kim lifted her and set her on her just-wiped-down kitchen
island. “That depends.” He fidgeted, smoothing her skirt over the island’s
surface while Isabelle’s stomach knotted with anticipation.

“Don’t you make me beg. I’m a proud woman, you know.”

“I’ve heard that,” he said, smiling. “Isabelle, I’ve sold my
condo.”

“Oh.” It wasn’t good. He was going after all. Theirs would
become a long-distance relationship, and even sooner than she’d feared. She
swallowed.

“I had a solid offer made in good faith and I took it. I’ll
be looking for another place.”

He rubbed the fabric of her skirt between two fingers, and
though his eyes were tracking it, his expression said he didn’t realize he was
doing it. As carefully as Isabelle was studying his face, she would have seen
any such indication.

“I’ve also accepted an offer to buy my plumbing business.”

He’d sold home and business. They needed to talk. Isabelle’s
efforts to give Kim time to talk warred with her rising need to panic.

“I’m not sure how you’ll feel about my new line of work.”

She caught his chin with her hand and forced him to look at
her. “Stop scaring me and talk.”

His grin seemed apologetic. He pulled a business card from
his back pocket and offered it to her “Let me know whether this helps or hurts
in that department.”

She released her grip and took the card.
Rock On, Indoor
Climbing Gym. Offering Recreation, Professional Training and Group Excursions.
Kim Martin, Owner.

Kim watched her read it. “Rock On, formerly known as Wall
Werx.”

She couldn’t process it. “You bought Wall Werx?”

“Someone had to—Damon was running it into the ground.”

“You bought Wall Werx?”

“You’re surprised.”

“Here, in Dallas?”

He shrugged. “Technically, yes. I’ve got some improvements
in mind I hope will expand its draw.”

“What about Austin? You’d give that up, just because I said
so?” She didn’t want to rob him of things he thought were important. That
wasn’t what partners did.

He smiled. “If you’d
told
me to, I’d know we didn’t
have a shot. But that’s not what happened. My mighty lioness was willing to
bend. How could I resist that?

“Besides…” He pointed to the business card. “Group
excursions.”

“You bought Wall Werx?”

He laughed. “Now you’re scaring me. I hoped you would be
happy.”

“You’re staying,” she said. The logjam in her heart jostled
as her frozen blood dared begin to thaw.
He thought they had a shot.

“I need you to clear up one thing for me first.”

“Kim.” If he made her suffer another minute…

“Are we or are we not—and this had better be a yes—dating?”

He’d tortured for that? She wanted to slap him. She wanted
to kiss him. She shoved him to show her frustration while wrapping her legs
around him so he couldn’t go anywhere. Just exactly the way she wanted it.

Kim laughed and put his arms around her. “What do you say,
‘Belle?”

“Why do you call me that?”

“You hate it.”

“I love it. I love you.”

“Is that a yes?”

Those eyes. That smile. This dangerous, wonderful man.

“That’s a yes, Kim Martin,” she said as her heart leapt to a
fearless new level and prepared to enjoy the view. “That’s a whole bucket of
yes.”