Kiss Me Crazy (25 page)

***

Kara stepped out of house to find a shirtless Baron on the boat. He was tinkering with something, a greasy cloth tucked in his back pocket. For a moment, she watched him, marveling at the sheer perfection of his back muscles. She walked down the path to the pier. The sound of her sandals on the wooden surface drew his attention and he looked up. He had a grease smudge on his cheek.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

“Nah, the engine needed an oil change.” He puled the cloth from his back pocket, wiped his hands, and stepped off the boat. “I took care of it.”

She couldn’t help herself. She cupped his face and kissed him, not caring about her white skirt and mostly white top when his greasy hand lopped around her waist and puled her closer. Nothing else mattered except his mouth, the way his hand reached down to cup her butt and press her against the steel jut of his erection.

“We’re not going to make it to breakfast,” he warned in a rugged voice when he leaned back.

She wasn’t hungry for food anymore. Reaching up, she whispered in his ear, “I’ve had breakfast for the last five years. I want you.”

His mouth came down on hers, hard and demanding. He scooped her up and started for the house, their lips stil locked. The kiss slowed down, grew deeper. Kara gave herself to it, taking his tongue, probing his mouth with hers, making it the center of her universe.

Somehow, they made it into the bedroom. He lowered her down his masculine hard chest, his arousal evident, eager to be free.

Kara went for his belt and yanked at it. Without puling it off, she fumbled with the button, pushed his shorts and underwear down to his thighs. His erection stood proud and thick from a tuft of hair.

Echoing her urgency, he grasped the hem of her shirt and puled it over her head, flung it aside. Her skirt and panties folowed. A moment later, he was kissing her, lifting her, and centering her in the middle of the unmade bed.

She watched him rol on a condom through glazed eyes then welcomed him back into her arms. Their lovemaking was intense, exhilarating. He might have five years to make up for, as he’d told her the night before, but she was accumulating mileage for a future without him. When he left to go to the bathroom for condom duty, Kara stared at the ceiling and grinned. Baron Fitzgerald was addictive. She might never recover from these two weeks, but the memories…they’d be treasured.

“That smile suits you,” Baron said.

“What smile?” She turned to watch him walk toward her, totaly comfortable in his nakedness.

He stretched beside her, puled her into his arms, and dropped a kiss on her temple. “The satisfied and thoroughly loved smirk.”

He realy was arrogant. “If it’s anything like the one on your face then I’m proud to wear it.”

“You, Kara Michaels, are ful of surprises. I love it.” She nestled on his shoulder, reached across to play with his chest hair, and reveled in the moment. Her energy spent, senses languid, she listened to him talk about what he had planned for the next two days. She wondered if he was aware of her body responding to his lazy exploration. He was circling her nipple, not realy touching the sensitive nub, driving her crazy.

Somewhere in the house, a door opened and closed. Kara tensed.

“Mrs. Frisk,” Baron explained.

Kara’s gaze flew to the watch on her wrist. It was almost noon. She started to sit up. “She might walk in on us and…”

“She won’t, but we can take the boat out and have lunch in town.” He roled out of bed and stretched, begging her eyes to explore.

So she did, taking her time. When their gazes met, he was grinning smugly. Shameless man.

Kara refused to be embarrassed. “Lunch in town sounds wonderful.”

“Then shower with me.” He offered her his hand.

***

That evening after dinner, Baron watched firelight iluminate the gentle slopes of Kara’s beautiful face. Temperatures were moderate in the panhandle during early summer and dropped even faster after dark. Earlier on the patio while they ate dinner, she’d puled on a sweater. It was now scrunched up on the couch adjacent to the sofa.

She looked up and gave him a hazy, languid smile of a tired, ultra-relaxed woman.

“I wondered about that case.” She put aside her glass of wine and sat up.

Baron set down the guitar case by the sofa. “I dub a little.” Her smile widened. “Are you going to play something for me?”

“It depends.” He leaned forward and captured her smile with his lips, stroked one cheek. “Do you sing?”

“Like a frog.”

He chuckled, then removed the classical guitar from its case, looped the strand around his neck, and cradled it. He’d tuned it days ago. “What do you want to hear?”

“Anything. I had no idea you played.”

“Chase and I took lessons when we were kids. Guitar, piano, drums… You name it we tried it, until we switched to basketbal in high school.” He plucked at the strings and started to play, gazing into her eyes as the lyrics roled from his lips. From the way they widened, she hadn’t expected a love song. When he finished, he hugged the guitar, cocked his brow, and waited for her verdict.

Kara grinned, eyes wide. “That was beautiful. Who wrote it?”

“I did for our garage band.”

“You…in a band…when?”

“Middle school. That’s how we met Stu Granger. I was on the guitar, Chase on the keyboard, and Stu behind the mike.” Kara grinned. “What was the name of your group?”

“Manic Voltage.”

“Sounds like a heavy metal name.”

“We were more into rock with a bit of country thrown in, until Lex found out we were ditching basebal practice and caled Mom, who sent us to Uncle Mo and the other uncles for a talk down. Our career crumbled before it even started. Stu became serious about basebal while Chase and I switched to basketbal, but we remained tight until, uh, he went pro.” Until Valerie, but Baron didn’t want to bring her up.

“Play something else,” Kara urged.

Baron started a popular bawdy number about a bar girl with a chrome-plated heart who stole a cowboy’s horse and mule, and ran away with his best friend. Kara laughed and asked for more.

***

Two days without the paintings became four. He kept Kara busy indoors and outdoors, learning personal quirks that were uniquely hers. He discovered she loved swimming but not in the open water, preferred soups and cooked vegetables rather than raw ones, and steered clear of red meat as much as possible. Her tear ducts were wired to her emotions. She cried when she climaxed and at sappy moments in the movies they selected from Bridget’s library. He was even amazed when her eyes watered when he played his guitar and sang more of the lame love songs he wrote during his want-to-be-a-singer days.

By Wednesday, she’d mastered the controls on the boat and the launching process. She was behind the wheel when they took the boat to Sandpoint to observe the transfer of the artwork from the police station.

“How did Jake transport them? The containers are huge,” Kara whispered as they watched the police officers forklift the two crates onto a police truck.

“He probably used the smal forklift we have at the cottage to load them onto his boat. That’s how the police found where he stashed the colection. A neighbor heard a boat engine rev up sometime in the early mornings and mentioned it to the cops. It didn’t take much to find the mariner where he’d rented the boat.” An officer dropped Kara and Baron off at their boat but they reached the house before the truck. “I think we’l accomplish a lot faster if we each took a crate then traded,” Baron said.

“I’l take the living room. It’s wel-lit.”

Baron directed the officer to put one crate in the living room by the fireplace and the other in the den, where he’d left the duffel bag with his photographic paraphernalia. He was setting up the artificial lights in his temporary studio when Kara interrupted him.

“Do you have provenances?” she asked.

Baron retrieved the manila envelope with proof of purchases from his brief case. He’d picked them up from Bridget.

“These are just copies. The originals are in the safe at the galery. I don’t know why Jake thought he could sel the colection without them. No serious colector would pay the market value without a provenance.”

“Unscrupulous ones never care,” Kara mumbled absentmindedly, her attention already on the first piece she’d removed from the crate.

Baron watched her for a few minutes. Her inteligent eyes narrowed and her lower lip at the mercy of her teeth as she checked for scrapes and scratches, the thickness of the patina, missing parts, or anything a buyer needed to know before buying any colectible. Her laptop with a microphone sat on the coffee table, the state-of-the-art speech recognition software opened and ready to translate her words into text.

Aware how quickly she became absorbed in her work to the exclusion of everything else, Baron headed back to the den.

While Kara dissected the imperfections in the pieces, he planned to capture their beauty and uniqueness on film. If he filmed in the mornings, he could upload the pictures onto his laptop in the afternoons. Kara would probably record her work and organize the data as she chose, but he wanted their evenings and nights for personal rendezvous.

***

“Want to swim?”

Kara burrowed on his chest, the hammock swaying gently underneath them. They were at their favorite after-lunch resting place, listening to gentle waves slap the pebbled beach and enjoying the cool breeze from across the lake.

“I don’t feel like moving, and you make such a wonderful pilow.”

He laughed, the sound vibrating though her. “You realy like it here?”

“Hmm-mm.”

“Bridget mentioned planning to sel the house when I was at her place. I want to make her an offer. What do you think?” She would have asked why he needed her opinion, but after sharing personal dreams, idiosyncrasies, likes and dislikes, she knew she could speak freely.

“From the number of buildings we saw going up al over the place, I think buying land here is a good investment.”

“Then I’l let her know we’re interested.”

Kara frowned. Did he realize he’d said “we” not I? Should she ask him what he meant? Or maybe it was merely a slip of tongue and she’d be making a big deal out of nothing, especialy after they’d had such a fabulous week and a half.

She sat up and the hammock rocked. “Okay. Swim it is.” Baron ran his knuckles up and down her arm. “You know if you weren’t such a worrywart, I wouldn’t be asking.”

“I know.” He’d scared her to death the first time he went swimming and took forever to come back. She’d thought he had a cramp or something. Since then, she either joined him or watched him from the boat.

“Come on. Let’s go.” She slid off the hammock and stepped inside the bedroom.
I hope at least one of my swimsuits
is dry
. They’d taken to swimming first thing in the morning and did other water sports in the afternoons when it was hotter—boating, kayaking or just lounging on water floatation devices tethered to the pier. She stil hadn’t mastered water sking. But her favorite time was when he played his guitar and sang to her. The songs were raw but he had a beautiful voice. Too bad he hadn’t pursued singing as a career.

Several hours later, they watched the sunset together from the boat in the middle of the lake. Baron stood behind her, holding her loosely.

“Let’s take tomorrow off,” he said.

She shook her head. “You’re done and can afford to. I can’t.”

“We stil have four more days.”

“Give me one day and I’m al yours.” She felt him grin on her temple. “You know what I mean.”

After the sun dipped behind the horizon, a chily, light breeze blew in from the west. Baron started the engine and headed back toward the house. Mrs. Frisk did it again with sautéed asparagus tips, lentil soup, baked chicken breasts, and baked red potatoes. The woman was an amazing cook.

Baron sat back on his chair and sipped his wine, but his eyes didn’t shift from Kara’s face. The first time he studied her this intently, she’d told him it was rude.

“You fascinate me,” had been his answer. Then he’d gone on to list why—everything she did interested him. She never knew she’d welcome and enjoy being the focus of a man’s attention this much. It was a good think he fascinated her too.

She reached up and traced the scar under his chin. “How did you get it?”

He laughed a tad self-consciously. “Scuffle in high school.”

“There’s a story behind it, isn’t it?”

His eyes narrowed as though debating whether to answer then he nodded. “Jade skipped a few grades and entered high school early, so she was realy awkward and unprepared for the cruelty of stupid, immature morons, who thought it was okay to pick on girls like her. You know about her heart condition?” Kara nodded.

“She was also on meds to control it, so she was very self-conscious about many things. But when one of the jerks, Denton Holiday, decided to make her his next target and crossed the line, Chase and I decided to deal with it.” He chuckled. “Unfortunately, he had his posse. The three of us—me, Chase, and Eddie… I don’t know if you’ve met my cousin, but he has a short fuse and he hates bulies.” Baron picked up her hand and sandwiched it with his larger ones. “By the time security arrived, we were bloodied. I didn’t realize it was my blood, couldn’t recal who knifed me, but Denton and his friends learned to never pick on one of us again.” How heroic. Kara brought their linked hands to her lips and kissed the back of his. “Did you get in trouble?”

“Oh, yeah, two weeks suspension. You should have seen Mom. She was so disappointed in us she brought in the uncles to drum some sense into us. We got an earful about the use of violence in resolving disputes, but as soon as she left the room,” he shook his head and grinned, “they congratulated us on continuing the Fitzgerald’s tradition.”

Kara laughed. “Beating people up?”

“Defending our own.”

“Not honor or respect for people’s personal space?” she teased.

He chuckled. “Personal space be damned. You come after one of our own, we take you down. Family comes first is our motto. What do you think?”

Kara got up, dropped a kiss on his lips, and said, “It’s a wonderful motto.”

She left Baron perusing the local paper Mrs. Frisk brought with her everyday and headed to the bathroom. She tossed in some of the bath salt she’d brought from home and turned the water on.

When the water was high enough, she turned on the jets and removed her swimsuit. She was about to step into the oversized tub when Baron appeared in the doorway.

“We need to talk.” He grabbed her hand.

“Whoa, just a second. I’ve been looking forward to this the whole week.”

“It can wait. This can’t.” He waved the newspaper he’d been reading, his expression hard to decipher.

Frowning, Kara reached for her robe. “What can’t wait?”

“The news about Stu, Valerie, and their daughter. Come on.” He barely gave her a moment to shrug on the robe before he dragged her to the living room.

Kara was baffled. Stu and Valerie Granger were the two people Baron avoided talking about since they got here. The only time Stu’s name had come up was the evening Baron played his guitar for the first time.

“What’s going on?” Kara asked, but Baron planted her in front of his laptop, opened to an internet article. He pushed the laptop aside.

“It’s the same article. Read this one,” he pushed the newspaper in her hand, “and tel me I’m not mistaken.” The story title,
Slugger, Baseball Bad Boy Dies in
Accident
caught her attention. She quickly read the story. Stu Granger was dead. Valerie and their child had sustained extensive injuries.

Kara looked up at Baron. “I’m sorry about Stu, Baron.”

“So am I. But this is not about Stu. Reread the last sentence.”

She read aloud, “Valerie and their four year old daughter survived but have extensive injuries.” Kara stil wasn’t getting it.

Was this about Valerie? Was he stil in love with her? Kara put the paper aside. “I’m happy they’re alive, Baron. Realy.”

“So am I but do you realize what this means? I’ve got to go to her. First thing in the morning.” His eyes shone with excitement and his voice rose with elation.

Something squeezed Kara’s chest until it hurt to breathe.

How could he stil love that woman after the way she’d betrayed him?

“I’l stay here and finish the work we started…” her voice broke. Her stomach felt funny and eyes smarted. Why couldn’t he love her the way he loved Valerie? “And pack everything for shipping.”

Baron gripped her upper arms and peered at her face.

“Come with me.”

“No, thanks.” Kara extricated herself from his hands and stepped back.

“Come on, Kara. I need you.”

Kara took a deep breath and glared at him. “How can you be so insensitive? Can you possibly expect me to go with you to the bedside of that woman? What am I supposed to do? Hold your hand while you moon over her? Do I look like a complete idiot?” She was yeling by the time she finished speaking.

He reached for her. “Whoa, Kara—”

“Don’t touch me. You want to go and have your grand happy reunion with Valerie, be my guest. Just leave me out of it.” She started toward the bedroom, tears streaming down her face.

He said something but she didn’t stop to listen. Two steps from the halway and Baron’s arm circled her waist and puled her against him. She wiggled. “Let me go.”

He held her tight. “I’m not going to see Valerie. It’s the little girl injured with her. My daughter, Kara. I think she’s my daughter.” His words finaly filtered through the surge of pain crashing through her senses, and Kara went stil.

“Your daughter?” she whispered.

“Sandra.” Baron held Kara close, his face pressed against the side of her head. “Before Valerie left me, she told me she had an abortion, that there was no room in her life for either me or my child. I might not have loved her but I was wiling to be a faithful husband and a doting father. She took that from me.” His voice shook as he spoke. His child? Al these years and he hadn’t known? How could that woman be so cruel? Kara didn’t know what to say to ease his pain.

“Valerie was about six weeks pregnant. The article said Sandra celebrated her birthday three weeks ago, the same month my daughter would have been born.”

“I had no idea.” She turned in his arms to face him. She’d never seen so much hope in a person’s eyes. If that child turned out not to be his, he’d be so devastated.

“I thought you knew,” Baron said. “You were at my place and I kept talking about it.”

“Not to me.” She rubbed his back, her heart breaking for him.

“It’s something I’d tried to forget. That she murdered my child. It’s been eating me up ever since, but this means she didn’t have an abortion. My daughter is alive.”

If Sandra was his, he’d need to focus on making sure she got the best treatment for her injuries. “You must go to her, Baron.”

“First thing tomorrow morning. Come with me.”

“No, I’l be useless. That little girl needs you, her father.” He looked ready to argue. “I’l be home in a few days anyway.

Meanwhile, I can wind things up here.”

He cupped her face, his gaze intense. “Are you sure?” She attempted to smile but failed miserably. She wasn’t sure. If that girl was truly his, he’d have to deal with Valerie. Kara had seen enough men caught in messy custody battles with their exes to know it could be an endless battle.

“Yes.” She caressed his cheek, kissed him, and nodded.

“Take care of your daughter.”

He gave her a long kiss, but he was distracted.

“She’l need the best treatment.” He turned from her, sat in front of the computer, and started typing.

For a moment, Kara watched him. Her two weeks love-fest had ended prematurely and there was nothing she could do about it. She never even got around to teling Baron she loved him or that she wanted to continue seeing him once they left Idaho.

There was no hurry. They’d have their time later. She’d make sure of that.