Keeping Kennedy (12 page)

“Hurry, Drake,” she murmured, her eyes closed
with the unbearable anticipation he himself felt.

Her chest rose and fell with each breath she
took, drawing his gaze to her perfect breasts. He touched her there
and she moved restlessly, repeating her last plea a little more
desperately. Slowly, with painstaking thoroughness, he removed her
bra and tortured her as she had done him minutes ago. She moaned
when his mouth closed over her breast. His arousal ached fiercely.
He couldn’t hold out long. He closed his eyes against the tiny
voice of protest still lingering in the back of his mind. His
fingers moved down to remove the last barrier, her panties.

For one long moment he could only look at
her. Sudden and unbidden, a protective feeling so strong rose in
him that he could not deny it. No matter how much he wanted her—his
whole body ached, throbbed for her—he couldn’t do this. He
rationalized his decision by insisting their friendship meant too
much to him to compromise it. Drake pressed a final kiss between
her breasts, and a dreamy sigh whispered past her lips.

Lying alongside her again, he struggled
several moments to regain control of his body. When he could speak
without his voice shaking, he said, “Kennedy, no matter how much I
want you, it wouldn’t be right like this.”

She didn’t say anything.

Damn. She was upset. He couldn’t believe he
was doing this. It was a first. “I hope you understand that you’ll
thank me in the morning.”

She still didn’t say anything.

Frowning, he shook her gently. “Kennedy.”

A soft snore was his only response.

~*~

Slowly, with tremendous effort, Kennedy
opened her eyes. The room came into focus at an even slower rate.
Pain radiated through her head, searing through her brain. Even her
scalp hurt. What had happened to her? Kennedy groaned loudly when
she rolled onto her back and stared at the canopy overhead. She
licked her lips and grimaced at the bad taste in her mouth.

Image and voices suddenly rushed through her
head like a DVR on fast forward. One too many Long Island Teas,
kissing Drake, asking him to make love to her. Kennedy froze. Her
eyes widened in horror. She lifted the cover and stared down at
herself.

She was naked.

Oh, God.

Drake had seduced her. She stilled, and
clutched the sheet to her chin. No, that wasn’t right. She suddenly
remembered quite clearly that she had insisted that he make love to
her. The air evaporated in her lungs. Christ, what had she done?
Not once in her entire adult life had she met a man who made her
want to move a relationship to that level. And what had she done?
Dragged Drake kicking and screaming into bed.

Oh, God.

She had to…to…

Kennedy bolted upright. The room spun wildly.
She closed her eyes until she regained her balance. She had to talk
to him. To explain that she’d had too much to drink. She hadn’t
meant for it to happen.

It was a mistake.

Kennedy paused to steady herself, when she
got to her feet and thought about the last conclusion. Maybe it had
been a mistake, but she would be lying to herself if she didn’t
admit just how much she wanted Drake, then and now. Kennedy blinked
away the confusing thoughts that accompanied that admission. She
didn’t know what to make of all these feelings. And right now, she
didn’t have time. She had to set him straight and get to the gym.
Celia was counting on their help with decorating today.

After donning a robe, Kennedy went in search
of her faux fiancé. The sound of him whistling captured her
sluggish attention. She cringed. Had what happened last night made
him feel like whistling this morning? She couldn’t even remember
hearing Drake whistle. Feeling as if her head might explode at any
moment, Kennedy slowly made her way to the bathroom door. After
several seconds of delay to gather her courage, she rapped softly
on the door.

The whistling stopped. “Yeah?”

Kennedy swallowed the seemingly fuzzy lump at
the back of her throat, and closed her eyes to block the pain
inside her head. “Drake, I need to speak with you.”

“Come on in. It’s not locked. I’m almost
finished shaving,” came his deep, masculine response. The image of
that chiseled jaw covered in shaving lather, and him wearing
nothing but a towel suddenly appeared behind her closed lids.

Kennedy snapped her eyes open and gently
shook her aching head. “No, that’s okay. I’ll just say what I have
to say from here.”

“Suit yourself.”

Kennedy took a deep breath and released it
slowly. She clutched the doorframe for support. “I just wanted to
ask if…” She couldn’t say it. Kennedy pressed her forehead against
the cool painted surface of the door. How could she ask him if what
she thought had happened actually had?

“If what?” His low, gentle voice was just on
the other side of the door. The thought of only that thin slab of
wood standing between them sent a warm glow rushing through her.
How had this happened so fast?

“If we…we did what I think we…did?” she
stammered. God, she wanted to curl up and die.

The long pause almost did in the last of her
resolve. How would she ever face him again? She would have to move.
It was that simple. She couldn’t possibly live next door to him
after…after…

“You want to know if we made love last
night.”

Was it her imagination or had his voice
dropped to an even deeper, huskier level? She closed her eyes tight
and imagined his forehead pressed to the other side of the door.
She imagined his full lips parting as he spoke his next words.

“Never fear, Kennedy,” he murmured. “Your
virginity is safe with me.”

Chapter Seven

Drake waited outside Martin’s front door for
what seemed like forever before the man answered. The mayor’s call
this morning had been no surprise. Drake had pretty much figured
out the reason for this clandestine meeting. The wary expression
the older man wore when he answered the door only confirmed Drake’s
suspicions.

“Come in.” Martin stepped aside for him to
enter. “I’m glad you could come right over.”

“You have a nice home.” Drake scanned the
living room as he crossed to a chair. “Pretty cozy for a confirmed
bachelor,” he added cryptically.

Martin sat down on the sofa directly across
from him. The camera lay on the coffee table between them. Drake
automatically picked it up and checked the settings to make sure
nothing was changed.

“I didn’t remove the film,” Martin assured
him.

Drake paused and looked up. “I didn’t think
you did.” He set the camera aside. “Checking my equipment is as
much a part of my natural reflexes as breathing.”

Martin sighed and leaned forward, bracing his
forearms on his knees. He eyed Drake for a long moment before he
spoke. “I don’t want you to develop that film. Not until you’re
back in D.C, anyway.”

Drake relaxed into his chair and considered
the man’s request. “Why?” He wasn’t asking why he shouldn’t develop
the film. He already knew the answer to that.

“For the same reason I suspect you’re
pretending to be Kennedy’s fiancé.”

That got Drake’s attention. He raised an
inquisitive eyebrow. “What tipped you off?”

Martin smiled, a slow, knowing gesture. “I
know my niece. She’s too much like me. Not the marrying kind.”

“Then why the elaborate ruse?”

“That, my boy, is a long story.” Martin’s
gaze took on a distant look, clouded with memories from his
past.

“I don’t have to be at the gym for a while
yet,” Drake suggested.

Martin studied his hands for a moment, then
began. “Thirty-some years ago I was madly in love with a woman, but
I was too busy with my aspiring law career to pay her any notice.
By the time I got around to it, she was seeing someone else.”
Martin shrugged. “I decided I needed something big to sweep her off
her feet.”

“And the Friendly Corners’ kissing bandit was
born,” Drake added. “I guess that explains where Kennedy got her
creative ability.”

A smile played about Martin’s lips. “The
whole town was in an uproar.” He chuckled softly. “I guess you
could say it was my fifteen minutes of fame, except no one knew it
but me.” The mayor lapsed into silence for a time.

“What happened to the woman?” Drake prodded
when it seemed Martin might not go on. According to Kennedy her
uncle had never married.

“I played the part for all it was worth.
Then, the last kiss I stole was to be hers, and, of course, I would
propose while she was still swooning.” He dragged a hand down his
face. “The night before my big coming-out she eloped with her
attentive boyfriend.”

Drake winced. “Tough break.”

Martin searched Drake’s face for several
seconds before he continued. “I made a mistake. Are you going to
make the same one?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Drake
hedged.

“I know Kennedy. She’s determined to make a
big splash career-wise.” He shook his graying head. “Just like I
was, pushing everything else aside—including love. She won’t
realize it until it’s too late.”

If Martin only knew just how much Kennedy had
already pushed aside. “She loves her work,” Drake offered by the
way of explanation on Kennedy’s behalf. “She’s still young.”

“And what about you?”

Drake averted his gaze. Thirty-three and
alone. This wasn’t the first time he’s considered his single
status. “I’ll admit that I have some regrets.” His gaze connected
with the mayor’s once more. “But nothing earth-shattering.”

Another of those knowing grins spread across
Martin’s face. “Until now.”

Drake blew out a breath. “Yeah, well, it
doesn’t matter, does it? Kennedy isn’t interested.” Emotions he
couldn’t begin to analyze whirled inside him. How could he be
feeling all this now? And with a woman who wouldn’t dream of
returning those feelings?

“Kennedy’s a stubborn young woman, there’s no
denying it, but she’s no fool. You just have to make her see that
there’s more to life than her career.”

Drake laughed dryly. “I’d have a better
chance of finding my way out of a South American jungle blindfolded
and with my hands tied behind my back.”

“It’s never over until it’s over.”

Drake’s brow creased in puzzlement. He’d
heard that before. It was one of Kennedy’s favorite mottos.

“That’s what Kennedy said to me at the
reception when I told her I was glad she hadn’t waited until it was
too late like I did. She looked me dead in the eye and said, ‘It’s
never too late as long as you’re still breathing.’ She was right,
you know.”

The smile sneaked up on Drake just as
realization did. “And Zorro was reborn?”

Martin nodded. “My lady’s husband died two
years ago. I’ve waited all this time. Now I have a second chance.
Thanks to Kennedy’s advice, I’m going to take it.”

“Anyone I know?”

“Celia,” Martin said reverently.

Which reminded Drake that he was expected at
the gym. He glanced at his watch, then picked up his camera.
“Sounds like you’ve got a plan.” He stood. Kennedy would be
wondering where he was. “Celia’s a terrific lady.”

“Yes, she is.” Martin pushed to his feet.
“And what about you? Do you have a plan?”

Drake shrugged halfheartedly. “Nope.” He
smiled. “But then I’ve always been an improvisational kind of
guy.”

Martin followed him to the door. “So, you’ll
hold on to the film.”

“I’ll send you copies when I get back to
D.C.” Drake hesitated before turning away. “When’s the
unmasking?”

A mischievous look twinkled in Martin’s eyes.
“At the masquerade ball, of course.”

“Let me guess,” Drake said. “You’re going as
Zorro.”

“Who else?”

~*~

Kennedy stood in the middle of the gymnasium
and turned all the way around to admire the decorating job they had
done. The place looked fantastic. The historical and contemporary
themes somehow meshed to present the perfect eclectic atmosphere.
The gym was much larger than the country club’s ballroom. With five
generations of graduates attending tomorrow night’s ball, it had to
be here. It had taken a lot of hard work and camouflaging, but they
had managed. The place looked every bit as glamorous as it had the
night of her senior prom, maybe more so. But this time, things
would be different, wouldn’t they?

“Ready?”

Startled back to reality, Kennedy looked up
into the mesmerizing gray eyes of Douglas Drake. He had driven
Celia home. Kennedy blinked. She hadn’t expected him back so
quickly. Maybe she had lost track of time. Just another fall out of
character for Kennedy Malone. She never allowed time to slip away
from her.

“Sure, I’ll just need to turn out the
lights.”

Drake caught her by the elbow when she would
have turned away. She looked up at him, a question in her eyes.
That same heat that always shimmered between them kindled to life.
How could he make her feel this way with just a look? What was it
about him that drew her so? Made her yearn for things she’d never
before missed?

“You did a hell of a job, Kennedy.” He
surveyed the room, then settled that disturbing gaze back on hers.
“I hope you realize that.”

She attempted a nonchalant shrug. “Cassandra
was unavailable. I just pitched in where I was needed. So did
you.”

Drake grinned in that way that sent
butterflies to flight in Kennedy’s stomach. “So how are our
ballroom dancers coming along?”

“I checked in with Trisha this morning. She
said Larry has almost gotten it. By tomorrow night she expects him
to be gliding across the floor.” Kennedy tucked a handful of hair
behind her ear. “Let’s just hope Cassandra falls for it.” Back in
D.C. she would never have second-guessed herself like this. What
was it about returning to her hometown that sucked away all her
hard-earned self-confidence?