Perfecting the Odds (38 page)

By six that morning
she had squashed those little tinges of disappointment with a heavy session of medicinal baking; she probably froze damn near four dozen cupcakes and made four batches of buttercream. By eight, she was showered and dressed in. Because Michael seemed to think her just-rolled-out-of-bed look was the thing wet dreams were made of, she decided to tease the asshat a bit and go all-out temptress. She chose a deep purple cowl neck silk blouse, her signature style. It dipped low toward her cleavage but not too indecently for a family dinner.  Her khaki-colored pencil skirt hit right at her knees, hugging her hips and pronouncing her curvy behind. She cinched a thick silver chain belt just below her waist, accentuating her classic hour glass figure...that she worked damn hard to maintain. Her nude two-inch heals finished the outfit like icing does a cake. In fact, standing in front of the mirror, she’d spent a significant amount of time defining her look. She laughed quietly during the solo wordsmith banter with her reflection. Understated immodesty… modest promiscuity…Sophisticated licentiousness. All fit and all conveyed one fact: she was undeniably enticing, ready to serve herself up on a silver platter without throwing herself to the wolves…or one wolf in particular.

B
y nine-thirty, she was tapping out nervous beats on the soft wood of her kitchen table, waiting for ten-thirty when she and the kids would leave to pick up Eve before the two hour drive to Mrs. Finn’s. But about ten, the doorbell rang. She swung open the door to find her best friend aside Scott, one hand clutching his, the other her cane, the last phase in her ankle recovery.

“I was about to come and get you,
Eve. I didn’t know you were bringing...a guest.” Karis smiled nervously at Scott as she gestured them into her house. Both were dressed impeccably, more than presentable in their church-like attire. Make-up easily covered Eve’s cuts and bruises now.  She wore a royal blue sheath dress that hit just above her knees. A chunky silver necklace circled her throat and matching hoops dangled from her ears. The only non-Eve part of the outfit was her Nikes, supportive and necessary for the injured ankle. Equally as dapper, Scott’s ivory half-zip sweater fit his lean chest well and gave his camel-colored khakis a dressier look.

Don’t they look like the all-American couple. Gag.

Scott winked
and followed it with a pleasant smile. “I always attend the Finn Family Thanksgiving Dinner. I just thought I’d escort Eve this year.”

“Well then, that’s just
perfect
,” Karis drawled and gesture for them to enter. She couldn’t help the sarcasm hinging on her words, and Eve laughed and squeezed his hand, a harmless gesture reminding Karis of how torturous today would be. Two groping lovers at a table with Mr. Sex-god-who-wants-me-back
.
It was a given that those two would sit together at the table. And surely Michael’s mother would place her next to him, opening up a huge steamy can of groping, stroking, and teasing, all hidden underneath a festive table cloth. Just frickin’ great!

Scott excused
then himself, and Karis turned to Eve in frantic desperation. “I can’t do this, Eve.”

Eve
gripped her shoulders and came within inches of her face.
Yes
, Karis, thought.
Eve will help. She’s always been by my side. She would never allow me to be swallowed into the black hole of panic and punishment
.

“You sure a
s shit can. And you will. You’re Karis-fucking-McKenna.” Karis furrowed her brow. Maiden name? Weird. “You look amazing, by the way. I’m not sure of your game plan with that outfit, you sex kitten you, but don’t you dare let that hot, intelligent, kind-hearted sex beast get the best of you.”

Karis
’s mouth gaped in horror. “Thanks, coach! I thought you were on my side! And what’s with the maiden name all of a sudden?”

“I am
on your side, you crazy bitch. That’s why I’m rooting for Michael. Come on. You and the kids get in the car. As soon as Scott gets out of the bathroom, we’ll leave.” Karis shut her mouth with an audible click of teeth, and all her bitch for a best friend did was snicker. A fucking snicker! That bitch hasn’t snickered a day in her life! What the fuck is going on? Karis huffed a breath.

“Fine. Kids
! Let’s go! It’s a long drive to Hell!” Eve laughed loudly. Karis’s rarely cursed when her children were within ear shot. Holding the box filled with her pies, Karis filed in behind her children and strode the line on her own personal green mile.

T-minus
two hours. Two hours of thinking. Two hours of what-ifs. Two hours of panic. Happy-frickin-Thanksgiving to me.

***

“Knock, Karis,” Eve urged.

“
Shush. I will. Just give me a minute.” Karis stood just outside Michael’s family home, staring at the bright red door that could just as well been the gateway to Hell. Her children pillared on each side of her, a less than formidable front.

As soon as they had
pulled up to the gorgeous beach front Carolina Coastal home a few minutes earlier, her children gasped simultaneously. “Wow, mom, look at this place,” Robby said, his eyes saucer big. Indeed, look at it. Pale blue with white trim and shrouded with misty fog, the house looked like it fell from heaven. Stilted on brick garages, it was the quintessential beach house: window on top of window, balcony after balcony.

“
It’s like a vacation home, mom. You may need to marry this one.”

Karis
spun in her seat. “Robert Edward Bennett, what has gotten into you!” Not waiting for his response, Karis groaned as she opened her door and slammed it shut.

Robby stepped by her side
and shrugged. “I’m just sayin’. It’s definitely a perk.”

She slapped his arm haphazardly.
“Stop talking like Michael’s a benefits package. Unbuckle your sister and carry the box of pies.” She heard Robby’s chuckle as he retrieved both his sister and the pies.

She soon felt Grace
tug at her skirt. “Mommy, can we go sailing?” Could Grace’s blue eyes grow any larger? Christ.

“No, Grace, we can’t go sailing. I don’t even know how to sail
,” Karis bit out, clearly the only one
not
thrilled to be here.

“Michael does.” Scott’s voice
hammered in her ear like a nagging headache. She turned toward him and Eve, hand in hand again.
Did they ride the whole way like that?

“Well, thank you
for bringing up yet another quality for Mr. Perfect. I’ll be sure to update my spreadsheet,” she hissed before storming up the steps.

Scott
chuckled then turned to Eve and smiled nervously. “This isn’t going to be good, is it?”

Eve
shrugged. “Eh, but it’ll be so damn entertaining.”

“Enough’s, enough, Karis. Knock.”

“Jeez,
Eve, I--I have a thing with red doors. Just give me a minute.”

“A thing wit
h what--Oh, cheese and rice, Karis! Knock already. It’s not exactly warm. Still a cripple, here,” she said, tapping her cane.

Karis
spun around to hedge again when the front door creaked open. She quickly shut her eyes. Bless me Father for I have sinned.
What! Why am I starting a confessional? I’m not even Catholic for godssake, I mean goodness sake. This must be my Come-to-Jesus moment. Yes. Either that, or I’m dying. Convenient. Right outside this damn devil-red door.

But,
have mercy
, she begged inwardly. His heat and aroma mingled with the autumn air and surrounded her, beckoning her out of her foggy, fucked-up existence. She was on the brink of insanity, and now all she was thinking about was sex, and not just any sex, Michael Sex. Yes, sex with Michael Finn should be a goddamn proper noun.

“Turn around,
Karis.” She opened her eyes and stared wide-eyed at Eve. Nope, that voice did not exit her brash mouth. Definitely not. It was a deep, velvety intonation that ribboned around her body, sending heat straight to her soul. That deep timbre came out of
his
mouth with
those
lips and
that
tongue. The voice that whispered naughty prospects, sweet praises, and dammit, empty promises. And God help her, her traitorous nipples chose this moment to respond to it all on their own, and she’d worn a silk shirt… with a lace demi-bra.

Damn it all to
the-place-that-lies-behind-that-frickin’-red door!

But what had her feet
firmly glued to the porch floor was not his tone sodden with sexual promise. No. Karis knew…because up until a few weeks ago, that same voice had lifted her feet from the ground and had her floating through life. Who would want to face an adversary like that?

But she was an adult, ready to handle this shitball flying toward her just as she dealt with any calamity.
She cleared her throat and slowly turned around. Her mouth went desert dry, and she coughed out her first thought.

“Of course you have to look like that!”
Okay, so maybe she wasn’t quite ready for such a gorgeous piece of shit. Karis threw her hands in the air, spun around and stormed down the steps. Just before reaching the car, completely unsure of her next move considering she’d just abandoned her children, she felt a firm hand grab her upper arm. It halted her, but she didn’t turn around. Strangely, she could hear the crashing waves hit the beach in the distance. But even the cool salty air couldn’t overpower the scent that seized her almost instantly.

“I
will
not
turn around, Michael.”

“Why
?”

“Because I can’t look at you.
I can’t do this.”

“Fine with me. Gives me more time to ogle your stellar ass.
You look stunning, by the way,” he said, all saucy-like. She knew a really turned-on Michael looked like… his darkening eyes, his lashes dropped low, a hint of a smile playing on those lips.

She
spun around, hands plastered over her eyes. “Stand behind me so I can check on my kids,” she demanded.

“What?”

“I said stand behind me. Now, Michael.”  She heard the gravel move as he shifted behind her. She removed her hands from her face.

“Son
-of-a-! My family just left me out here. Alone! With you! Is no one loyal anymore?” She heard Michael’s stifled chuckle from behind her and turned to glare at him. “Don’t you dare laugh, standing there all--all too hot for a family Thanksgiving dinner.” He snorted. She paced toward him, scrapping her heels along the pebbled drive, pointing her finger like a wielded knife. He scooted backward in response, wearing a suggestive grin that guaranteed laughter. The man looked orgasmically sexy. His face bore an even beard shadow that had her hands twitching to run her fingers along his jaw, pull him close, and ravish the smirk right off his damn mouth. A dark red ribbed mock-neck sweater gripped his chest and arms, zippering open just enough to peek at his muscular chest. Did the man look bad in any color? His dark wash jeans hugged the form she defined as god-like. She blushed when she thought about how uncomfortable it must be to restrain the wickedness between his legs in such tight jeans. She growled at her uncontrolled thoughts.

“
You and your dessert eyes and your perfect mouth and your goddamn coconut whatever-it-is and that big frickin’--.” His eyes crinkled, and she shook her head. “You do this on purpose, you know! You’re like a fucking mer-man, drawing women in with your hard body and poetic love notes and thoughtful gifts and then, Bam! Goddamn male version of Medusa.” She paused, out of breath. She whispered, “I wish I could just turn to stone already.” She growled again and covered her eyes. She wouldn’t survive this day…until she swore she could hear him say, “Too late.”

Great
! He’s hard, and I’m literally in the middle of emotional cataclysm. Aren’t we just the iconic advertisement for what differentiates our genders.

“Karis,” he said, amusement dousing his voice.

“Tread lightly, Michael. I feel like I’m losing my goddamn mind
over here.” Yes, definitely losing it and well on her way to some serious waterworks.

“
Look at me.” His tone was soft, laced with a bit of sympathy.

“I can’t,” she whimpered.

“Come on, sweetheart, let’s go inside. It’s cold.”

Karis
opened her eyes but couldn’t look at him. Instinctively, she turned her head toward the gentle sounds of waves crashing.

“Not when you’re around,” she
admitted, her voice trembling despite every effort to steady it. She knitted her fingers together, futilely grasping onto some control. “Your stupid warmth always makes me feel safe and--. Please. I just want to go home,” she pleaded. And there it was, the truth resurrected. She honestly could not handle being around him. It was too much, too painful. And she was just plain pathetic.

“You don’t need my permission to leave, love. But I pro-- …I’ll keep my distance as best as I can.”

She hadn’t missed his almost slip-up to
promise
her. And although he stopped himself, it didn’t stop her mind from recalling his lie. Her nostrils flared.