Passionate Pleasures (22 page)

“You are something else, Kathy St. John,” he groaned.

“I’m going to have to start eating my spinach if I’m going to keep up with you. But I will, ’cause I love fucking you!”

H
e loved fucking her. She loved fucking him. Suddenly she wondered if he liked her too. But he must. They were suddenly becoming a couple. Dinner, movies, and even lunch now and again in her office. If all he wanted to do was get in her pants he wouldn’t bother with all the rest, would he? God! She sounded like a teenager in one of those YA novels. But then why did she care? She wasn’t looking for anything more than a discreet sex partner. Or was she? Why this confusion? She wasn’t one of those wishy-washy females who couldn’t live without a man.

They both fell asleep, and she realized he was holding her hand as she drifted off.

When she awoke in the morning, Tim was gone, and Rowdy was lying on the bed next to her. She could have sworn the dog grinned at her.

Then Tim stepped from what was obviously the bathroom, clad only in a towel. “Morning, love,” he greeted her. “I’ve put towels out for you, and I’m off to make us breakfast. Rowdy, down!”

The dog reluctantly jumped off the bed, looking up at Tim with accusing eyes.

“Fixing breakfast like that?” Kathryn teased him.

He dropped the towel mischievously and leered at her.

She laughed. “Get dressed, big boy,” she told him. God! What a hunk. He looked so tame in his clothes, but without them he was six feet four inches of well-toned body. His butt was so tight she could have probably bounced a quarter off of it. His smooth chest and muscled arms brought back memories of last night. And that big cock of his hanging long and lean now between his thighs. Kathryn sighed. She needed a cold shower for sure. Getting out of the bed, she walked naked to the bathroom. She might be forty-eight, but she still had a good body.

What breasts!
he thought to himself as he watched her go. And that ass of hers was perfect. He’d love to get his dick between those perfectly symmetrical cheeks. She’d be hot and tight. It would feel really good. Jesus, what the hell was the matter with him? He was acting like some kid who just had his first fuck. But Kathy St. John was one hot woman. It was difficult to believe she was five years older than he was. Still, what did age matter, when they were so compatible?

He stopped, surprised. They
were
compatible, and not just in the sack either. She was as well educated as he was. She was clever, quick, and funny. And they seemed to like a lot of the same things. Was this woman going to mean more to him than just a sex partner? It suddenly dawned on him that maybe he would like that. His family was gone, and he had no one but Rowdy who cared if he lived or he died. There was nothing left for him in the city. Egret Pointe, it seemed, was a whole new beginning. Pulling on a pair of sweats he walked barefooted to the kitchen to begin preparing them breakfast.

When Kathryn had showered and dressed, she joined him to discover homemade cinnamon French toast, little sausage links, juice, and freshly brewed coffee. “Oh yum!” she said, delighted. “French toast is my favorite. How did you know?”

“It’s my favorite too,” he told her. “Sit! Three syrups too,” Tim said.

“What kind?” she asked.

“Raspberry, blueberry, and maple,” he replied.

“I’m a traditionalist,” Kathryn answered. “Pass the maple!”

“Maple is good,” he agreed, “but blueberry ain’t bad, love.”

“This is such a treat,” Kathryn told him. “I rarely eat breakfast.”

“Why not?” he wanted to know. “It’s the most important meal of the day.”

“Oh, I have a yogurt, but I don’t cook except Sunday dinner now and again. But I do love to eat,” Kathryn admitted to him. “Sometimes one of the library staff brings something unsuitably sweet and gooey in, and we all share.”

“I love to cook,” he said. “My folks had a housekeeper who did it all. She was a terrific cook, and taught me how. I started collecting cookbooks. Fanny Farmer,
Good Housekeeping
, Julia Child, Paula Deen. Cooking is relaxing and creative for me.”

“I never knew a man who cooked,” Kathryn remarked. She cut a piece of her French toast and ate it. “Oh God! This is delicious,” she said excitedly. “What is in it, Tim?” Swallowing, she popped another piece in her mouth.

“The usual,” he answered. “Egg, half-and-half, a little bit of sugar, a smidge of vanilla, ounce of Jack Daniel’s. And I cook only with butter.”

“That must be it, along with the bourbon,” Kathryn said chuckling. “I never thought about putting whiskey in French toast.”

“It’s not even a tablespoon, Kathy, but it flavors it perfectly,” he said.

“Uh-huh!” she agreed. Then she proceeded to eat five pieces along with four links of sausage. She was stuffed, but it was a good stuffed.

When they had finished they carried their plates to the sink, where Tim rinsed them and put them in the dishwasher. Then, taking mugs of coffee, he led them to the living room, where a bright fire was burning.

“I’ve got some paperwork from school in my study,” he said. “Do you mind if I get it done? It won’t take long.”

“Go ahead,” Kathryn told him. “I’ll take a book from your bookcase and read. This is such a cozy room with the fire, and a cup of coffee.” She pulled the book she wanted from the shelf and curled up on the couch. To her surprise Rowdy came and put his head on the cushion next to her.

“You’ve made a friend,” Tim said with a smile. Then he went off to do his paperwork.

Kathryn opened the book and read a few pages, but then she set the book aside and sipped her coffee, her other hand absently scratching Rowdy’s silky head. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been so relaxed and content. A night of wild sex, a good breakfast, and a quiet house. It was absolutely perfect. She glanced out the living room’s bay window, and saw it was raining a gentle rain. Now it was beyond perfect, she decided. Then the cell in her pocket rang. Instinctively she picked it up without looking and answered. “Kathryn St. John.”

“I stopped at the library with the children, Kathryn,” her brother’s voice said. “I wasn’t aware you weren’t working today. Shouldn’t you take another day other than a Saturday when the library is so busy?”

Oh God! “We alternate Saturdays, Hallock. I would have thought after all these years you knew that. You brought the children to the library?”

“Debora is a bit under the weather. You aren’t home either,” he noted.

Oh God! Think! Think! “No, I’m not,” she admitted. Where was she? He probably checked her little garage at the far edge of the library grounds. Once it had been a barn housing her predecessor’s horse and buggy. “I’m shopping in the village, Hallock. I see no reason to take the car, waste gas, and contribute to the ozone layer when I shop in the village, brother. God gave me two good legs. I utilize them.”

“I’m pleased to see that you are so responsible, Kathryn. Sorry we missed you. I’ll see you on Thursday next then. Good-bye.”

She closed her phone. Note to self. Check to see who’s calling before answering.

“Did I hear you talking to someone?” Tim asked, coming into the room.

“My brother. I didn’t look before I picked it up. He knows I’m not in the library, or at home,” she said. “I told him I was shopping on foot in the village.”

“Will he attempt to find you there?” Tim wondered.

“No, but I’ll speak with Ashley Mulcahy of
Lacy Nothings,
so if he asks she’ll swear I was in the dressing room of her shop trying on naughty underwear. Hallock will back off immediately.”

“Do you have naughty underwear?” he asked mischievously.

“No gentleman would ever ask a lady if she had naughty underwear,” Kathryn replied, pretending outrage.

“You haven’t answered the question,” he said.

“No, I haven’t, have I?” she responded. “Have you finished your paperwork?”

“Almost,” he said.

“Up for a ride afterwards? It’s raining a little, but it’s not bad out.”

“A ride on a rainy day? It actually sounds nice,” he agreed. “I’ll finish my work.”

“I’ll treat you to lunch at the old inn on the bay,” Kathryn said.

“I like an equal-opportunity woman,” he replied.

Kathryn picked up her cell and called Ashley Kimborough Mulcahy, her cousin.

Ashley’s assistant, Nina, answered the shop phone. “
Lacy Nothings.
How may I help you?”

“Nina, is Ashley there? It’s Kathy St. John.”

“Hang on,” Nina said.

“Kathy? What can I do for you?” Ashley asked.

“Lie,” Kathryn responded. “Look, if Hallock asks, say I was in your shop this morning, okay? And make sure Nina says it too.”

“Why Kathy,” Ashley said softly, “are you being a bad girl?”

“Yep,” Kathryn admitted, “I am, and at my age too. I’m being discreet, but you know my brother. Mr. Glass-half-empty.”

“It’s the new Middle School principal, isn’t it?” Ashley whispered.

“I’m not going into details, Cousin Ashley,” Kathryn said firmly.

“It has to be,” Ashley continued. “You’ve been seen out with him a lot in the last month. You go, girl! He’s cute. Is he good in the sack?”

“How would I possibly know such a thing?” Kathryn tried to sound offended.

“Because you’ve got Kimborough genes, Cousin Kathy, and Kimborough women always have active libidos. Whoops, gotta go. The Carstairs bride has just arrived. Bye, Cousin Kathy.”

Kathryn smiled. Ashley was right. Kimborough women had always been hot to trot. And St. Johns and Kimboroughs had been intermarrying since they helped found the town in the 1700s. Her paternal grandmother had been a Kimborough. In Egret Pointe many of the old families were related.

“I’ve gotten my work done,” Tim said, coming back into the living room.

“And I’ve set up an alibi should Hallock check up on me,” Kathryn said. “Ridiculous but necessary.”

“Actually, I like your brother, but I know it would upset him no end to learn I had spent last night fucking his sister to a standstill,” Tim responded. “Getting him to accept us as a couple will ease his mind somewhat.”

“We’re a couple now?” Kathryn said softly.

“I told you the first time that this wasn’t a one-night stand, Kathy. I’d like us to be a couple unless you don’t want to be,” Tim answered her.

“I’ve never been in a couple’s relationship. Not publicly. Jonathan Curtis and I had to be ultra discreet,” Kathryn replied.

“You were kids,” Tim said. “We’re not kids. I really like you, Kathy, and I want to be able to go out with you without your brother worrying.”

“I don’t know why he persists in worrying at this point in time,” Kathryn said.

“He will always worry about how his family appears to all and sundry. It’s in his gene structure,” Tim told her. “It’s rather charming of him to be so old-fashioned.”

Genes again, Kathryn thought. “I suppose you’re right,” she agreed.

“So let’s make Hallock happy about our relationship. He doesn’t have to know any more than we’re a couple, and are dating.”

“I would hope not,” Kathryn responded. “My brother has to fuck like a rabbit to have sired all those kids, but the thought of me having sex gives him an attack of the vapors. It’s like dealing with your Victorian auntie.”

Tim laughed. “Don’t be so hard on him, Kathy. He’s a guy raised with a sense of great self-importance by his family, and he’s scared to death he doesn’t measure up. Attempting to be controlling is a defense mechanism for him.”

“I don’t know how Debora stands it,” Kathryn said.

“She has to love him very much,” Tim replied.

Kathryn was silent for a long moment, and then she said, “I guess she does.”

He went to the garage first, and then seeing no one on the street, beckoned to her.

There was no one out in the rain to see them drive down Wood’s End Way. Then Kathryn directed him to the coast road. They drove the winding highway for about an hour while Kathryn explained that it was first a dirt path, and then at last, in the 1930s, it was paved. They finally stopped at an overlook, and sat briefly looking out over the bay. The sky was gray and the water dark.

“See that big flat-topped boulder offshore? That’s called Seals Rest. On a sunny February day you’ll see the harbor seals sunning themselves on it. And in the summer there are lots of boats. And if Easter is in late April, we have a sunrise service on the beach near the village.”

“You love it here, don’t you?” he said.

“I’ve lived here my whole life,” Kathryn told him. “Oh, I’ve traveled all over the world, Tim. I love to travel, but Egret Pointe is home. I couldn’t, wouldn’t, live anyplace else but here.”

“I thought I couldn’t live anyplace but the city. I was born and grew up there. But after Dad died, well, it just didn’t seem like I belonged,” he said. “I could have remained in the family apartment, and Kensington Academy would have been happy to have me until I was ready to retire. But it just wasn’t right anymore. When the opportunity came for this job, I was skeptical at first, but I’ve been here a little over three months now, and I love it,” Tim said.