How to Knit a Wild Bikini (15 page)

A smile flashed over Nikki’s face. “Makes you wonder what she would have done if you were born a boy.”

The knitting needles started clicking. Cassandra bent her head and Jay studied her profile, blinking. There was something…

“I wondered for a long time if I had a brother,” she said.

“What?” Nikki glanced over her shoulder at the other woman. “Your mother had another—”

“No. The sperm donor. When I was a kid, I often wondered if one of my classmates, or maybe a little kid I saw being pushed on a playground swing was really my half-sibling, because another woman had also used that same donor.”

“I used to imagine I was the princess of an exotic country who’d been adopted by my parents in order to save me from a dastardly plot to overthrow the royal court. There was more than one long summer afternoon when I expected an envoy to come and retrieve me to my rightful throne.”

Cassandra laughed a little. “I see. So, you didn’t feel you entirely…belonged with your mom and dad?”

Nikki’s shoulders gave a little shrug. “Doesn’t every kid at some time or another? After my mom died, well, my dad wasn’t very demonstrative and I took a short but self-destructive path, hoping to belong to someone—anyone. Bad mistake. After that I learned to be in de pen dent. Parents, siblings, who needs ’em? I have myself, my cooking, my fish.”

Her plastic fish. Jay tightened his grip on the sofa. She was doing it again. Killing him. He knew all about her need to belong and how hellishly that had worked out for her.

His Nikki, so in de pen dent because who she should have been able to count on had not been there for her. His Nikki, who didn’t even know that she needed…she needed…

Not him.

She wasn’t “his.”

What had happened last night, he reminded himself, was nothing more meaningful than dozens of other nights he’d experienced. She was not any more special than other women with whom he’d scratched that same particular itch.

He hoped to God Nikki understood that, but if she wanted to turn it into something bigger and brighter, well, he had practice in making clear it had been nothing more than Wally Weasel’s drive for nonspecific-woman sex.

Even if that meant he was destined to lose out on that morning repeat he’d been hankering for. Striding for the kitchen, he was determined to set things straight.

“…I’m not the only one curious about possible brothers and sisters,” Cassandra was saying. “Donor sibling registries are cropping up on the Internet, and it’s not that hard, with a little digging, to discover—”

She broke off as Jay rounded the breakfast bar.

“Ladies. Good morning.” His voice sounded clipped and he kept his eye on the prize—Nikki. He steeled himself for her reaction. If she cuddled up to him, he was going to be firm and set very certain boundaries.

Her swift glance at his face revealed nothing. Neither did her silent move toward the coffeemaker. In seconds, he had a mug of coffee in hand.

And she was back to her mango. “I’m sorry, Cassandra. You were saying…?”

“Um…” The other woman rose to her feet, sending Jay an odd look. “I think I’d better be going.”

“Oh. Okay,” Nikki said. “I’ll walk you to the door.” Strolling past him, she followed Cassandra toward the entry.

Leaving him barefoot, barely caffeinated, and alone with his morning-after anxiety.

Nikki wasn’t cuddling up to him.

Nikki wasn’t making more out of the oh-good-God wasn’t-it-incredible they’d done together last night.

Nikki wasn’t doing a single thing that set his alarm bells ringing.

And the fact that it bugged the shit out of him that she didn’t made them finally start to clamor.

Nikki dawdled on her way back to the kitchen. Maybe by the time she returned to her half-made fruit salad, the bachelor by the coffeemaker would have taken himself away.

But there he was, looking more golden and gorgeous than one man had a right to be. His hair hung over his brow as he frowned down at his coffee.

“Careful, handsome,” she said, breezing past him. “Your face might get stuck in that ugly expression.”

The legs of one of the bar stools scraped against the floor as he seated himself. She sliced through the middle of a cantaloupe and gutted it onto a paper towel. Then, taking a breath, she turned to face him.

Leaning against the counter, she gripped it with both hands. “I could go for balls this morning. What do you think?”

His head jerked up. His gaze slammed into hers. “Huh?”

“Balls? I’m in the mood.”

“
What?
”

She snickered, doing her best to be that tough babe she only wanted him to see. “
Melon
balls. Get your mind out of the gutter, dude.”

“That’s not where my mind’s been playing, cookie,” he retorted, his eyes narrowing. His thumb gestured over his shoulder, toward the sofa. “It hasn’t had to go that far.”

The blush crawling up her neck was
not
allowed to make it as far as her face. “Oh? Well then, I’ll go ahead and give you good marks on your performance. Thanks and all that.”

He stared at her. “‘Thanks and all that?’ That’s it? That’s what you have to say?”

Putting one hand on her hip, she heaved a big sigh. Okay, so he’d given her the first orgasm of her life, but she couldn’t let him see how deeply the memory of it was imprinted on her brain. He wouldn’t want to know the brand he’d left on her and how she savored even the faint soreness between her legs.

“You’re not one of those, are you?” she asked. “A re-hasher?”

When he didn’t answer, she continued on, babbling as if she knew what she was talking about. “Fine. I’ll play Monday morning quarterback with you. That’s what all your
NYFM
readers would call this, right? Sure, some of the plays could have gone more smoothly and the defense didn’t do their job until late in the eleventh inning, but the offense was a well-practiced machine, showing the benefit of its many years of experience in the big leagues and deserving of its stellar reputation and many Super Bowl pennants.”

He sipped at his coffee. “I hope you recorded all that for posterity in your diary, cookie. I might want to go over it again—you know, for those days when my ego needs to be stroked by such a sports expert as you.”

“Oh, no. Sorry, but diaries are reserved for the diarist only—and her BFF, of course.”

“Don’t tell me—”

“Best Friend Forever.” She whipped back around to go to work on the melon.

He was so annoyingly quiet that she didn’t realize he’d moved until she felt his hands mold her hips. “Who is your BFF?” he said. His warm breath stirred the small hairs at her temple that had escaped her bandanna. “Who do you let get that close?”

“You shouldn’t sneak up on a woman wielding a knife,” she warned, willing her feet to root in the floor and her spine to stay as straight as steel. It was difficult, when everything female he’d found so deep inside of her now flared again and was insisting that she move back and nestle against the comfort of his body and heat of his sex. “As a matter of fact, why don’t you go about what it is you usually go about doing and I’ll call you when your breakfast is ready.”

“I don’t have anything that needs to be done.”

“Yeah? Well then, Narcissus, your reflection is probably lonely. Go give your mirror some company.”

His fingers slid up to her waist. “Narcissus? Wasn’t he cursed to fall in love with his own beauty because of his callousness toward his lovers?”

Nikki couldn’t keep still any longer. She slid away from Jay’s hands and edged toward the refrigerator. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“What did you mean it like then?” He grabbed her elbow and turned her, pushing her back against the brushed steel of the appliance and pushing his hips against hers. He was aroused, his erection pressing against the pad of her sex.

Immediately, she softened everywhere, getting warm, too warm. The skin south of her navel started to throb. But they’d had their one-night stand! She was supposed to be back in her metaphoric combat boots this morning. She pressed her palms to his chest, struggling to think, and to think of something to make him back away. “You’re…you’re scaring me.”

“Liar.” He crowded closer, his gaze dropping from her mouth to her throat. “I can see your pulse racing, cookie.”

She could
feel
her pulse racing, driving the urge for another round of sex through every cell of her body. Last night she’d insisted on doing it because she couldn’t bear him viewing her as a victim.
Never let them think you’re weak.
But this desire presented different dangers.

“Hef, honey—”

“Stop that.” His eyes narrowed. “Don’t make it like that.”

“Like what?” She was desperate here, desperate to remember that last night’s intimacy didn’t connect them in any way that she couldn’t easily break. “Like what was it to you?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Took a breath, then backed away. “Damn it,” he muttered.

A chill rushed across her skin at the loss of his heat. She turned to open the refrigerator and then stared at the shelves, trying to remember what she was after.

Peace. That’s what she wanted. A little peace and space to absorb the fact that she wasn’t necessarily a frigid freak, doomed to fake orgasms for the rest of her sorry life. The truth was, she wanted to fling herself into Jay’s arms and kiss his face a thousand times for giving her something no other man had…and that she’d never been able to give herself.

It didn’t take a genius to determine why sex had been a struggle in the past…but knowing the source of her hang-ups and overcoming them were two separate things. However, she couldn’t let gratitude fool her into imagining a bond neither of them wanted.

So just to be on the safe side, she planned on never touching him again.

“Nikki—”

“Go away, Jay.” There was little fight left in her right now.

From behind her, she felt the air move and then he was playing with her hair. Goose bumps rolled down her neck as he twisted a piece around his finger—ominous image, that. Nikki pressed a forearm over her tightening nipples, desperate for him not to see how sexually defenseless she was to him.

“Nikki…”

Weak Nikki. Weak Nikki who turned into his body and lifted her face. It was an invitation to a kiss, she knew that, he knew that. His hand slid to the small of her back and pulled her closer as his mouth came down—

—and the telephone sitting on the nearby countertop rang.

The brash sound brought common sense crashing back. Nikki made to move from his hold, but his hand tightened on her even as the other reached for the receiver. “We’re not through,” he said.

But they were! They were!

He held the phone to his ear. “Hello?” As he listened, his hand slipped off her back.

Relieved of his touch, Nikki quickly stepped away.

“She’s not? You’re sure? When?”

At the sharp note in Jay’s voice, Nikki stepped back to him, reaching out to grasp his forearm. “What? Who?”

He was off the phone after two more terse sentences. “Damn it,” he said. “That was Marie’s mom. Fern isn’t there. According to Marie, she left last night and didn’t return.”

Nikki’s stomach twisted, images of the beach party un-spooling in her mind. “Do you think she went back to Zuma?”

“Doubt it. I guarantee the cops were on their way to breaking that up.”

“Oh, God.
Jay
. What could have happened? Where could she be?”

“You’re white as a ghost.” He pulled her into his arms and she rested her cheek against the steady thump of his heart. “Don’t think the worst.”

“There was booze at that party. She could have been drinking.”

His arms tightened on her. “Fern wouldn’t do that.”

“What if Jenner wanted her to?” Nikki knew her voice was rising, but she couldn’t seem to calm herself. “What if he handed her the drinks in order to loosen her up? Some of that stuff, you have to know, Jay, some of that stuff is tasteless. They mix it with Gatorade or fruit juice and then…”

“Fuck.” Jay pushed her away and looked down into her face.

Nikki could see he didn’t want to believe her. “I know what it’s like. I know how a girl can get caught up trying to please the boy who makes her feel like someone special.”

“
Fuck
.” His fingers tightened on her upper arms, stopping just short of pain as his voice rose. “Damn it, Nikki, is that how it started? Is that what happened to…to your ‘friend’? Her Romeo got her drunk as his idea of fore-play?”

“It doesn’t matter what happened then. Fern matters now.”

“Both of you matter. Then. Now.” He spun away from her and shoved his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know what ‘this’ is.”

Nikki ran a soothing hand down his back and tried calming her own concern. “It’s worry over Fern. Let’s think—”

“Worry over me, why?” Fern’s voice.

“
Fern
.” Both Nikki and Jay whipped around to face the teenager. Wearing a pair of baggy pajama bottoms printed with smiling seashells and a matching short-sleeved tee, she was staring at them, her hair pillow-tousled.

She blinked, then headed for the counter where she nabbed a piece of mango to pop into her mouth. “What’s the matter with you guys?”

“You were supposed to spend the night at Marie’s,” Jay ground out, the muscles beneath Nikki’s hand tight.

“I came back.”

“Without telling Marie or her mom.”

Fern shrugged. “Whoops.”

Jay’s spine snapped straighter. “‘Whoops?’ That’s all you have to say? And how’d you get here in the middle of the night anyway?”

“You’re not my father.” The teenager focused on the cutting board and scooped up another piece of fruit.

Her cousin’s voice lowered and lost any semblance of its usual laid-back style. “But I’m in charge of you and I won’t hesitate to call Uncle George if necessary. I don’t care that your parents are on their anniversary cruise with mine. Got that? You answer my questions or I will call your father.”

Fern’s gaze jumped to Jay’s. “You wouldn’t—”

“I will.” His face was grim. “How’d you get here?”

After a tense moment, her eyes dropped and her shoulders slumped. “Jenner, okay? He picked me up at Marie’s and then brought me here.”

“I’m going to talk to that kid—”

“Don’t.” Fern looked more desperate than defiant now. “Please. I’m not seeing him anymore. We broke up last night.”

“Oh, Fern.” Nikki’s hand slid away from Jay as she took a step toward the teen. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” She turned to open a cabinet and pull out a mug. “Even better if you’ll show me how to make one of your famous mochas.”

Nikki stared at the bruise just peeking from beneath the sleeve of the girl’s shirt, her stomach clenching. But Jenner was out of Fern’s life now, she told herself, so she swallowed her concern and moved to start the drink.

Scowling, Jay stayed planted in the middle of the kitchen, his arms crossed over his chest, necessitating that the two of them walk around him. Finally, Fern slanted him a glance. “Get out of the way, Jay. And what’s with all the third degree, anyhow?”

“Somebody’s got to be the adult.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be you,” Fern scoffed.

“Gee, thanks.”

“Admit it,” the girl continued. “You’re the family’s Peter Pan.”

He jerked back. “What?”

Fern spooned whipped cream on top of her mocha. “You heard me. The boy who never grew up.”

Nikki busied herself with the rinds of fruit, though she couldn’t miss the curse he muttered under his breath as he strode for the back door. The slider slammed behind him.

Four seconds later he was back, his feet shoved in a pair of ratty deck shoes that usually spent their day on the back porch. “I’m outta here.” He grabbed his car keys from the abalone shell on the counter.

“But breakfast—”

“Don’t worry about it. This morning I’ll be getting mine in Neverland.”

Then he was gone again. Fern wandered away shortly after that. Nikki stood alone in the kitchen, breathing in the quiet.

She was supposed to be glad, she thought. She’d wanted to be alone this morning. Except the two cousins had left her with a half-prepared breakfast and enough emotional leftovers that guaranteed her anything but peace.

Jay realized speeding
off in a huff didn’t make him appear any more adult, but for God’s sake, the women in his house were making him nuts. They’d turned his comfortable bachelor pad on Billionaire’s Beach into an active minefield of indecipherable reactions and insulting accusations.

Peter Fucking Pan.

He noticed that Nikki hadn’t leaped to his defense. No, sir. She’d just stood there, her crazy-making eyes glued to the countertop while his cousin—his teenaged cousin—stripped the skin off his bones.

No wonder he’d made his escape to Neverland…uh, farther north in Malibu. But hell, it wasn’t so much different from that imaginary world, when he thought about it. The near-fantasy natural surroundings, the surfers who were obvious stand-ins for both the Pirates and the Lost Boys, the dozens of Mermaids wandering the beaches in their bikinis and flip-flops.

He rolled down his window and let the salty breeze mix with the air-conditioning, his head bursting with all that had happened in his first hour of the morning.

Nikki’s nonreaction to their night before.

Their fleeting concern over the missing Fern.

His chef delivering a blow to his heart: “Some of that stuff, you have to know, Jay, some of that stuff is tasteless. They mix it with Gatorade or fruit juice and then…”

His snot of a cousin finishing him off: “You’re the family’s Peter Pan.”

Christ. No wonder he was desperate to escape that house. More caffeine and male companionship were what he required to restore order back to his life. To regain the simplicity he craved.