Just a Little Bit Guilty (6 page)

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Back at Jake's apartments, Roberto drank three glasses of milk, ate a huge bowl of vegetable soup, and downed two tuna-salad sandwiches. Then he went into Jake's living room with a pillow and an armful of hand-made quilts that had been in the Coltrane family for half a century, and promptly went to sleep on the couch, snoring softly. Jake shut the double doors to the living room, crossed a narrow hallway, entered the kitchen, and sat down by Vivian at a massive oak dining table. Vivian smiled at him between sips of coffee.

"This is a terrific place. You've done an excellent job on it."

"Thank you. I'm clean, but not much for decoratin'." She eyed all the careful work that had restored the high ceilings and cabinets. Colorful, braided rugs adorned the wood floors. The kitchen appliances were old but functional. 51

Just a little Bit Guilty

by Deborah Smith

Family portraits in gilded frames decorated the pale beige walls.

"Where are the bedrooms?"

She had meant it without innuendo, but realized too late that it was a strange question to blurt out. "I mean, how many are there?"

"Three," he said just as awkwardly. "Two little ones, one big one. I have the big one."They looked at each other with wide eyes. Pink stained the ruddy tan on his cheeks. Vivian burst into laughter.

"I'm go glad for you," she sputtered. He laughed then, too, rubbed his jaw as if to coax the blush away, and then propped his chin on his hand. "You swear that Roberto knows carpentry?"

"Yes, I swear." Vivian grinned at him. "He used to work part-time at one of the city shelters. That's where he and I met. He'll work hard if you treat him with respect."

"You know, Viv, I thought all homeless people were ... I don't know..."

"Panhandling bums or addicts or mentally ill bag lades," she finished, nodding. "But they're not. A lot of them are people like Roberto—good people, down on their luck, who just don't fit in easily but will work hard if given the chance."

"And you want me to believe you're hard-hearted." He made a chiding sound in his throat. "You're just a little ol'

Moon Pie."

"I'm not old," she retorted playfully.

"No, ma'am, you're prime."

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Just a little Bit Guilty

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"A Moon Pie, huh? Damn. Hard on the outside, soft on the inside?"

"Are you talkin' dirty to me?"

She suddenly focused her attention on her coffee mug, aware that every part of her anatomy even vaguely related to male-female functions had just gone on alert; her nipples felt hard against the lace of her bra. She held up the heavy pottery mug, studying it and trying to think of a way to change the subject. She felt Jake's eyes on her.

"I love anything that's made by hand," she ventured. He guffawed.

"Look!" she exclaimed, squaring her shoulders and affecting a placid face as she continued to hold the mug aloft,

"My Statue of Liberty impression." They both laughed, the tension broken.

"Tough Stuff, I can't remember when I've had such a good time," he told her. He took the empty mug from her and set it down. His blue eyes captured the soft light of an old lamp perched on the kitchen counter nearby. Vivian thought of a vivid blue ocean, an ocean that drew her hypnotically, an ocean where drowning would be a sweet adventure. Jake raised one broad hand and touched her cheek gently.

"You make me laugh at myself," he murmured. His fingers stroked her cheekbone with a feather-light touch, then moved down her jaw. She looked at him transfixed, and her hands trembled as she put them in her lap. "You make me fight back, Viv. You make me feel mad and confused and crazy and happy. You make me feel better than I have in a long, long time."

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Just a little Bit Guilty

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"I can cook," she replied blankly. Vivian barely knew what she was saying. His forefinger grazed her mouth and she kissed it, then his thumb, then his palm, her lips damp and agile as she sampled his callused skin. Their eyes remained locked. He placed his finger tips against her neck, stroking her pulse. His thumb rested lightly on the corner of her mouth, drawing tiny circles.

"Why, that's real nice to know," he quipped softly, seductively.

"I make great cannelloni," she continued with languid tones. "I ... I have a collection of Tony Bennett albums. I work out with weights three times a week at the YMCA. I love the
Ice Age
movies. I sleep late on the weekends..." Her next words were lost, caught in a moan as he leaned forward, his chair creaking, and kissed her deeply. She tilted her head at one angle and then another, making exciting little discoveries about his taste and feel as their tongues curled in and out, playing a sensual game of tag.

Vivian drew back and smiled at him warily, catching her breath. "I'm not much for casual hook ups."

"Me, neither."

"Jake..." Another kiss stopped her. When he finally let her draw a shaky breath, she continued. "You're trouble."

"Yep." He pulled her out of her chair and onto his lap. With a gruff sound, he pressed his mouth against her neck. Vivian nearly burst with pleasure as he fervently kissed the tender skin under her jaw.

She nuzzled the side of his head and hugged him. They were both trembling.

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Just a little Bit Guilty

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He began to chuckle, and rested his forehead against her shoulder. He patted her back with one broad hand. She gripped his shoulder, and when he looked up she gave him a serious once-over that went beyond joking. Vivian urged quietly, "Tell the truth. How many women are regular visitors here at your corn crib?"

Jake gave her a wicked grin. "If I told you I love the jealous glint in your eyes, would you hit me?"

"Right in the teeth."

He planted a loud, smacking kiss on the straight line of her lips.

"The last time I even came close to have female company of the sort you mean was back in the fall," he related solemnly. "An old girlfriend drove down from Tennessee to help me move in here. She took one look at this place and got back in her pick-up truck and left."—

It was Vivian's turn to laugh. She saw defensive pride flow into his handsome face, flattening his brows into a frown. She shook her head before it became more intense.

"Jake, I'm laughing because I'm in shock, that's all."

"Oh." A sheepish smile replaced his grim expression. He waved a nonchalant hand, and his voice became comically nostalgic. "She was a right bossy heifer, but good-hearted. I've known her since we were in grade school. Once when we were about, oh, eight years old, she caught me at the playground and pulled my pants down. I learned to do an Olympic sprint with my dungarees around my ankles that day."

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Just a little Bit Guilty

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"Stop, stop," Vivian commanded, thumping his shoulders and laughing. She settled her arms cozily around his neck, and he bounced her once on his knee. His laughter joined hers. "Was that typical of your romances in Tuna Creek?

Come on, confess."

His rumbling laughter faded like distant spring thunder. Now his eyes were pensive.

"I never dated a woman I couldn't live without." He shrugged. "One told me I was gettin' set in my ways and wouldn't ever find anybody." His voice dropped "I guess I got pretty borin' in the years after my wife left. I sort of withdrew."

"Wife?" Her smile faded.

"I got married right out of college. Three years later she packed up and left for Nashville. She wanted to be a singer."

"Did she make it?"

"Yeah, she did pretty well. She sings backup for some big names, does commercials, that sort of thing. She remarried, had kids. I'm proud of her."

Vivian frowned. "Do you find good things to say about everybody?"

"Try it. It keeps your blood pressure down. When somebody hurts you real bad, find a way to forgive. It cleans your soul. We were just kids when we got married. Looking back on it, I think what we had together just bottomed out." They head the mournful howl of a dog coming from a back bedroom. Vivian climbed off his lap before he could hold her still. She was still processing the wife story. 56

Just a little Bit Guilty

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Jake sighed and stood up. "Phoebe probably pushed Chester off the bed."

She busied herself grabbing her coat. "I'll leave you to your threesome. Well, your foursome, if you count Roberto."

"I don't sleep with my dogs. They got their own bed. They hog the covers."

He took her hand. Vivian avoided the inquiring blue gaze he beamed down on her. "Will you go out with me this weekend, Viv? I'll buy pizza and take you to a movie."

"I'm flying down to Florida in the morning to spend the weekend with my brother, Frank, and his family." He looked crest-fallen. "What about one night next week, Viv?"

"I'm a member of the mayor's committee on midtown crime. I have meetings every night through Thursday."

"Well, at least I know you're not faking me out. That's the most boring excuse I've ever heard."

"Why don't you give me a call next week sometime," she allowed, "and we'll see."

"Viv, tell me the truth." He looked straight into her eyes.

"Are you givin' me the heave-ho?"

"I'm giving you my schedule. If I were giving you the heave-ho, I'd be a lot more direct, dude."

"Okay, then." He lifted her like a delicate china doll and planted a happy kiss on her startled mouth, then set her down. Vivian wobbled with shaky knees to the door that led to the stair landing above the courtyard, and he slid her blue coat onto her arms.

"I'll walk you to your car."

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"You don't have to do that, Jake."

"Yes, I do. What kind of men are you used to, who let you go traipsin' around city streets by yourself after a date?"

"I can take care of myself."

"By whacking thugs with a shoulder bag full of law books?" he teased, following her as she went down the outside stairs to the courtyard.

"My street name is Sistah B Bad." They shared a laugh.

"You know, that fellow I caught said his partner skipped town." Jake's voice turned deadly serious.

"Good. I don't want you playing policeman any more. Those guys are sociopaths. You could get killed."

"Huh. If that second guy ever shows his face around her again, I'll be the ruthless one."

Vivian stopped, threw her arms around Jake's neck, and hugged him so tightly that he coughed. She pulled away quickly, ducked her head to hide the tears in her eyes, and walked on.

This time she didn't pull away when he tucked his big hand firmly under her elbow as they went down the concrete steps to the sidewalk. They stopped in front of her tiny silver hybrid. He chortled. "This must fit real good on your kitchen counter. I bet you plug it in right next to the charger for your cell phone."

She snorted as she retrieved the keys from her purse, and Jake immediately took them from her hand. She looked up at him in mild rebuke. He didn't say a word as he unlocked and then opened her door. He politely returned her keys. 58

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She arched a brow. "You think all this mannerly crap will make me kiss you again?"

He put his hands on his lean hips. "Yeah."

"You're right." She slid her arms around his neck. He drew her into his arms, bent his head over hers, and bestowed a long, intimate kiss on her parted lips. She kissed him back hungrily, and her body edged closer to his. They held each other for a long moment, in which Vivian analyzed her tangled emotions and found equal measures of love at first sight and fear that he was too good to be true.

"G'night," she said breathlessly, and pushed him away. As she slid behind the wheel of her car, her eyes never left Jake's face.

"Y'all come back now, you hear?" he said with a grand drawl, grinning crookedly.

She gave him a pensive half-smile that made no promises.

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Vivian's office was small and cramped, overflowing with law books and memorabilia from three years as a public defender and two years as a judge. She cleared a valley in the mountains of paperwork and began tugging at the plastic shell around her standard lunch—a vending machine package of peanut-butter crackers. She sighed with fatigue, having had enough burglary, prostitution, and assault cases to last a whole week—and it was only Monday. A hearty knock interrupted her wrestling efforts to open her lunch.

"Come in, and bring a shovel," she ordered loudly. She put a corner of the little package between her short, strong teeth 59

Just a little Bit Guilty

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and gave a sharp jerk. The door opened and Jake stepped inside, a wicker basket in his arms. Her package ripped open, and crackers flew everywhere.

"Nice to see you, too," he said happily. "Have a nice weekend in Florida?" He kicked the door shut with the heel of his work boot. Vivian distractedly rounded up crackers, thinking that he looked, if possible, even more attractive than ever. His reddish hair was windblown, and his sheepskin coat sat on his wide shoulders as though it were tailor-made. Despite herself, she felt as giddy and flustered.

"Look at my lunch!" she protested weakly. "Get that cracker from under the bookcase over there!"

"That's not lunch, that's parrot food." He settled the basked on the edge of her cluttered desk. "Look here. I thought I'd surprise you. If I'm acting like a stalker, kick me out. Blame Barney Washington—he's the one who got me through security up here to your office. He's a big ol'

romantic, that man."

"Jake, I don't do lunch dates..."

"This isn't a date. See, I'm not stayin'. I'm just deliverin'." He quickly set out plastic containers and a single plate. She scowled and spluttered, waving her hands. "What ... you can't leave all this food here ... where are you ... you're not really leaving..."

"Yep. Me and Roberto got a meeting with a plumber. Trying to get all the commodes running." He grinned and tipped an invisible hat to her as he backed out of her office. 60