Keeping Kennedy (11 page)

While she wasn’t looking, he snapped a few
photos of her deep in concentration. Her blond hair was swept into
a loose bun, displaying the profile that nearly took his breath.
Her long, slender neck made him want to touch her there. He licked
his lips, then let out a long breath to slow his hurtle toward
arousal. The way her clothes clung to her body did strange things
to his ability to draw in his next breath. But Kennedy Malone
belonged to no man. Could he make her his?

The question shook Drake hard. This high
school reunion was one of her spins. On Sunday they would go back
to D.C. and everything would return to normal. Kennedy would be his
neighbor, his friend again. That thought shook him even harder. He
looked away from her. He didn’t need this frustration. Kennedy
wasn’t interested in a guy like him. They were polar opposites. She
would marry some government bureaucrat or political ham. She only
tolerated Drake.

“I’m” he gestured toward the gym door when
Kennedy glanced up from her work “going to take a walk.”

“Okay.” She smiled.

Drake’s heart lurched. He shifted his
attention to the exit sign above the gym doors and strode toward it
as swiftly as possible without breaking onto a run. He had royally
screwed up this time, probably because he’d just spent three weeks
alone, save for a couple of male, non-English speaking guides, in
the African desert. Obviously, his need for a woman’s touch was
overwhelming his good sense. Kennedy was not the ideal woman, the
keeper, his rebellious thoughts had been dwelling on of late. She
was his friend, his buddy. A powerful, career-oriented woman who
had no time for physical relationships, much less love.

Love?

Damn. There was that word again.

A strange sensation twisted through him.
Double damn. He couldn’t seem to shake himself out of this funk. He
had to—

A sound from the far end of the corridor
captured his attention. A woman turned the corner, the sound of her
high heels reaching Drake’s ears, her image not quite clear in the
semi-darkness. A door a few feet in front of her suddenly burst
open and a man dressed all in black flew out of it. It took about
two seconds for Drake’s brain to assimilate that this was the
kissing bandit. His camera came up and he began clicking off shot
after shot without conscious thought. Then the man in black was
gone and the woman screamed for all she was worth.

~*~

“After thirty years,” the mayor was saying,
“I can’t believe you actually caught the bandit on film.” He took
another sip of his beer and clunked the sweating can back down on
the table.

Drake tried to decipher the mayor’s seemingly
contradictory reactions. Martin kept saying how glad he was that
after all this time they might finally have a clue, but the look on
his face belied his words. Worry glimmered in those tawny eyes that
looked so much like Kennedy’s. Not to mention the way the man had
insisted that he take Drake and Kennedy out for a drink to
celebrate Drake’s quick thinking. He’d herded them away from the
growing crowd at the gym as if he feared some disastrous event
might occur. Drake still wondered how the man showed up so fast,
even before the police arrived at the gym.

“I caught him all right,” Drake confirmed. “I
have his profile, approximate height and weight, at least.”

He carried both a film camera and a digital.
He just happened to be using the film camera when the event
occurred. There had been no time to retrieve the digital camera.
The local drugstore had one-hour developing but it wasn’t open all
night. Martin, like the few who knew he had gotten the shots, would
simply have to wait. The mayor looked as if he might not survive
the wait. Drake’s suspicions were growing by leaps and bounds. “Who
knows,” he added just to see the man’s reaction? “Sometimes I catch
more than I expect.” Before he could analyze the look in Martin’s
eyes, Kennedy interrupted.

“Personally,” Kennedy announced, her voice
slightly slurred, “I can’t wait to find out who he is. Thirty years
is too long for a mystery to remain unsolved.”

“Would you folks like anything else?” the
waitress asked, hovering near the mayor’s elbow.

Drake shook his head. “Nothing else for me.”
He hadn’t even finished the first beer.

“I’ll have another, Lisa,” the mayor said
with a weary smile. “How about you, Kennedy?”

Kennedy lifted one shoulder in an attempt at
a shrug and grinned in a lopsided sort of way. “Why not? This is
great stuff.” She fingered the stem of her glass.

Drake frowned. He knew Kennedy wasn’t much of
a drinker. The only thing he had ever seen her indulge in was wine.
He leaned close and whispered, “Hey, those Long Island Teas are a
little stronger than you might realize.”

Kennedy cocked her head and stared at him,
aghast. Damn, it was too late, he realized. She was past the point
of caring.

“I bed…your pardon,” she retorted
thickly.

The waitress returned then and placed another
tall glass before Kennedy and the beer next to Martin’s empty can.
She thanked the mayor for his generous tip and moved on to the next
table.

“She’ll be fine,” Martin assured Drake.
“You’ll take good care of her. It’s not often than Kennedy lets her
hair down. Leave her be.”

Kennedy nodded once. “That’s right, Drake.
You let your hair down all the time. I can’t keep count of the
women coming and going at your apartment.” She shook a finger at
him. “What’s good for the goose—I mean the gander—is good for me.”
She hiccupped faintly.

The look Martin shot Drake was nothing short
of startled, which quickly turned openly accusing. Damn. He had to
get Kennedy out of here before she blew the spin to hell and
back.

“Sweetpea, you know better than to say things
like that,” Drake put in quickly, his eyes attempting to relay to
her the magnitude of her faux pas. “A photographer’s work is never
done.”

After a long drink, Kennedy sighed loudly,
then flipped her silky hair over her shoulders. “I don’t care about
your women, Drake, as long as you keep that thing away from me.”
Kennedy shuddered visibly. “The last time it was between my legs—”
She hiccupped again. “Well, anyway, just remember that I’m not
going to be a slave to that thing again. The maid might do it, but
I won’t anymore.”

Iggy. She was talking about his pet iguana.
One look at her uncle’s face and Drake knew that the man had formed
an entirely different theory. Anything Drake said at this point
would only make things worse. Kennedy’s advice to Larry rang in his
ears.
Do not deny. Evade.

He shot out of his seat, almost knocking the
chair over in his haste. “Time to call it a night, Kennedy,” he
offered the best smile he could manage.

“But I’m not finished with my tea,” she
resisted.

“Oh, yes you are.” Drake pulled Kennedy to
her feet and wrapped one arm around her waist. “Thanks, Martin, for
the drinks.” Drake ignored the questioning expression on the man’s
face. “We’ll see you tomorrow.” The mayor’s and several other
patrons’ goodbyes were called to their retreating backs.

It wasn’t until Drake parked in the Malone
driveway that he realized he left his camera on the table at the
pub. He shot a cross look at Kennedy, who was already climbing out
the passenger door. No way could he go back for it and risk leaving
her alone with her parents. She might say something they would both
regret. Drake would just have to trust Martin to take care of the
camera for him. At the moment he had his hands full, he decided as
he emerged from the vehicle.

“Oh my God, would you look at those stars!”
Kennedy enthused from her position on the ground. Drake did a
double take. She lay flat on her back staring up at the heavens. He
couldn’t take his eyes off the woman for a second.

“Everything looks more interesting when
you’re a little tipsy,” he explained as he helped her to her
feet.

Kennedy threw her arms around his neck and
sagged against him. She made a pleasant sound in her throat. “I
never noticed how good you smell before, Drake.” She pressed her
face to this throat and he tensed. “Really nice,” she murmured.
“Good enough to eat.” She giggled.

“Let’s get you inside,” he suggested and
propelled her toward the door.

“You’re the most handsome man I know,” she
told him as they made an unsteady journey up the steps and across
the porch. “And I know plenty.”

“Thanks, Kennedy. I’ll remind you of that
tomorrow and see if you still fell the same way.” Drake opened the
door and then closed it behind him once he had Kennedy through it.
He could just imagine hoe appalled Kennedy would feel at her
actions come morning.

“D.D.! Sweetpea!” Chuck met them in the
foyer, decked out in love beads and a Nehru jacket. “We’re about to
start a bonfire out back and have our mini Woodstock. Would you two
like to join us?”

“I think we’re going to call it a night,”
Drake said quickly, hoping Kennedy wouldn’t protest.

She giggled. “You really look cool,
Daddy.”

Chuck deposited a kiss on his daughter’s
forehead, then headed back toward the kitchen as if nothing were
amiss. “See you kids later.”

Weak with relief, Drake ushered Kennedy
toward the stairs. She stalled before they took their first step
up. He glowered at her. If she wanted to go outside and join the
Woodstock re-enactors, he would simply have to throw her over his
shoulder and carry her upstairs.

“We have to do something right now, Drake,”
she whispered conspiratorially. “Aliens have invaded my parents’
bodies.”

She looked so serious. Drake chucked her
beneath the chin and smiled. “Don’t worry, sweetpea. They’ll be
back to normal come Sunday.” As would the rest of the town, he
didn’t add. Everywhere they looked people were wearing one retro
look or the other.

The rest of the journey to Kennedy’s bedroom
was uneventful. Drake was grateful she didn’t put up a fuss. He
would bet his next paycheck she had never been drunk before in her
entire prim and proper life. Once he had her settled on the end of
the bed, he knelt in front of her and removed her shoes.

“Drake, you’re amazing. Did you know
that?”

He set the second shoe aside and looked up
hesitantly. Kennedy wore a dreamy expression that seriously
unsettled his equilibrium.

“Thanks.” He stood, uncertain of what to do
next. The lacy canopy draping Kennedy’s bed served as a reminder
that she was not only his friend, but inexperienced and
vulnerable.

She stood on shaky legs. “In fact,” she said
suggestively, “I’ve been thinking about nothing but you for days
and days.” She started to unbutton her blouse. “It’s become like an
ob-obsession.”

Drake’s throat constricted, making speech
impossible. He felt more than a little shaken himself.

The blouse drifted to the floor. She loosened
the tie at waist of her pants and they puddled around her ankles.
Kennedy stepped out of them and closer to him. She reached up and
started to unbutton his shirt then.

“I’m certain there must be something wrong
with me.” She sighed as she fussed with one particularly resistant
button. “You act like you want me, but you never do anything about
it.” She pushed the shirt open so she could touch his chest. Drake
tensed. “I must be unappealing to you in some significant way.”

“Whoa, Kennedy.” He encircled her wrists with
his fingers and halted her exploring hands. “You’re getting a
little carried away here.”

“I rest my case,” she concluded. Those wide,
expressive brown eyes peered up at him. “When you look at me,
Drake, what do you see?”

He had been trying really hard not to look at
her. The moment she stepped out of those pants he had struggled not
to look. “You don’t know what you’re doing—”

“Look at me, Drake,” she demanded in a
surprisingly steady voice.

He clenched his jaw and obeyed. The breath
rushed out of his lungs when his gaze roved over the slender yet
intriguing curves of her body. A lacy lavender bra displayed rather
than covered her small, firm breasts. French-cut matching panties
just barely concealed her feminine treasure. Drake tried to swallow
but the muscles of his throat still would not cooperate.

“Don’t you see anything you like?” she
prodded, doing a little suggestive shimmy.

“Kennedy, I—”

She shushed him with her lips. Her arms went
around his neck, her body pressed firmly against his. All that
bare, silky skin felt smooth and hot against his chest. Arousal was
instantaneous. Despite his best intentions, Drake’s arms slid
around her waist. Fire raged through his veins.

“Make love to me, Drake,” she murmured
between kisses. Her hips instinctively arched against his.

“Kennedy,” he ground out. “You should go to
bed now.”

“Only if you go, too.” She planted a row of
sweet kisses along the column of his throat.

Using every ounce of his resolve, Drake set
her away from him. He told himself again that this was his friend.
None of what was happening between them was real. Kennedy wasn’t
thinking straight right now.

She was a virgin.

No way in hell was he going to…

“Don’t you dare say no.” She leaned forward
and nipped his chin with her wicked teeth. “You’ve had me hot and
bothered for two days. I want to know what all the fuss is
about.”

She captured his nipple in that hot little
mouth then. Drake groaned as she licked, then kissed him there. His
fingers tightened on her satiny skin, drawing her even closer to
him.

“You’d hate me tomorrow,” he managed when she
moved to the left nipple.

“Don’t talk, Drake,” she whispered against
his skin as she pushed her shirt down and off his shoulders.

He pulled his hands free of his shirt and
allowed it to fall to the floor. Beyond reasoning with himself any
longer, he kicked off his shoes, lifted her against him and carried
her to the bed. Her long, silky hair fanned over the pillow as he
laid her there and drew back to shed his jeans and briefs. She was
more beautiful that any woman he had ever known. Soft and sweet and
untouched. That last thought sent savage desire roaring inside him.
He wanted her more than he wanted to take his next breath. He
aligned his body with hers and looked down at her angelic face. His
fingers trailed along her throat and she shivered.