Shine Your Love on Me (15 page)

“I’ll be exhausted. Have to clean up.”

Pres snorted and threw a disgusted look her
way. “You have more excuses… I think you just don’t want to.”

Brooke raised her green eyes, looking at him
through thick lashes before she pulled his mouth to hers for a
breath-stealing kiss. She ran her forefinger down his cheek and
gazed up, making eye contact. “Does that tell you what I want?”

“Hell, yeah. And if the park was empty,
well—”

She lowered her gaze. “I think you’re well—
anyway.” She hid a chuckle behind her hand. The pugs returned to
her side and flopped down, panting. Brooke opened her mini backpack
and pulled out a small plastic cup and a bottle of water. She
filled the dish and watched the dogs drink.

“You always remember these things. You’re so
buttoned up.”

“We’ll share with Buddy,” she said, moving
the water toward Pres’s dog. “I’m corporate, remember.”

“Not anymore.”

She flashed a frightened look at him. “Bite
your tongue! I haven’t given up looking.”

“Good luck with that. When I sell a pilot,
I’ll have money, and you can come live with me.”

“And be your mistress.”

“Maybe. Maybe more.”

A tingle shot through her. Warmth in her
heart brought a smile to her face. “You’re the nicest man
ever.”

“Nice? Ouch. You know how to hurt a guy.” He
grimaced.

“What do you want to be called? Mean?
Bad?”

“Maybe, bad-ass, sexy, irresistible, sexy,
amazing, sexy, spectacular, sexy…”

She laughed. “I get it.”

He grinned at her. “Guess I’ll have to settle
for nice.”

Brooke glanced at her watch. “Yep. Well,
maybe nice and sexy. Time to go. Gotta make the pie.”

Pres raised his eyebrows. “We’re having
homemade pie?”

“Oops. Damn! I wasn’t going to tell you.”

“What kind?”

“It’s a secret.”

Pres jumped up and extended his hand to her,
called to the pugs, and they headed for home. “You’ve whetted my
appetite. I’m going to starve myself until dinner. Maybe I can have
my pie in bed with you?”

Brooke slapped his shoulder. “You’re not the
only guest tonight.”

“So, leave with me.”

“Sorry. You’ll have to bunk in with
Buddy.”

He drew her close for a mind-blowing kiss.
“Don’t want you to forget.”

“I could never forget you.”
What did I
just say?

Brooke brought the dogs upstairs. She fed
them and began baking, listening to P!nk while she peeled apples.
Freddy and Ginger curled up on the sofa. Nan was at the center
playing bridge.

Working with her hands coupled with the smell
of the fresh apples relaxed her. She danced a bit with the music as
she sliced the fruit and placed the pieces in the pastry shell. She
slipped the pie in the oven then gathered the ingredients for the
chili. Within ten minutes, the aroma of the pie had perfumed the
apartment.

Brooke took a deep breath. The scent of the
apples cooking brought forgotten memories back into focus. She sat
down at the table and sipped tea as her mind flooded with the
images of days long ago in the kitchen with her mom. Snippets of
their conversations returned. She smiled at the vision of her
mother’s gentle hands rolling and folding dough for a crust.

Impatience while the pies cooked had always
gripped young Brooke. She had checked the oven a hundred times,
waiting for the apple pies to be ready. Excitement again flowed
through her at the recollection of her mother removing two, or even
three, pies from their large oven. Her mom had sometimes sold one
or two to bring in extra money. She had taught Brooke how to make a
perfect pie, but the memories had been locked away until now.

As she browned meat, chopped onions, and
opened cans of beans for the chili, she recalled her mother’s sweet
ways—how she’d cry at sad movies and stop to befriend homeless
dogs. Mary Lou Felson had been known in the neighborhood for
feeding stray cats. Some of her neighbors had objected, citing too
many cats came around, meowing for hand-outs, and hunting in the
fields and woods for mice.

But Mary Lou had countered that no one had a
mouse or rat problem. She had laughed with her husband, Simon, and
Brooke about her method of ridding the house of pesky mice. She had
called her cat friends “nature’s mousetraps.”

They had lived on a small farm in Pine Grove,
a rural community.. Mary Lou had a large garden. Simon had planted
apple and pear trees and they had sold fruit and vegetables at a
roadside stand in the summer and fall. Brooke had grown flowers in
her patch of Earth. Simon had helped her buy marigold and zinnia
seeds and together they had planted and weeded. She could hardly
wait for her flowers to bloom. Brooke thought back on it now with a
mixture of contentment and longing.

She’d had a happy childhood. She reckoned
that her parents spoiled her with too much love. When they died,
the shock of their loss had been great. Brooke had shut down for
months. Gathering their things in her room had comforted her. She
had slept in her mother’s nightgown, even though it was too big,
and had worn her daddy’s red, plaid, flannel shirt around the house
like a dress.

For two years, she had refused to accept they
were gone, secretly waiting for them to return. Maybe that’s why
she still donned her mother’s dresses on Sunday.

The sound of the timer jarred her from her
reveries. The pie was ready. Brooke leaned over and sucked in air,
breathing the delicious scent. She grinned, took it out to cool,
and went back to stirring the chili. After putting the top on the
pot, she lowered the heat.

Now, it was time to make the fabulous salad
from Bess’s private recipe. She opened the refrigerator and pulled
out the ingredients.

Nan returned. “Oh my God, what’s that
wonderful smell?” she asked, putting her purse down on the dining
room table.

“Apple pie and chili.”

“Smells marvelous. Thank you, sweetheart, for
doing all this.” Ruth hugged Brooke.

She put down the red lettuce she was tearing
to face her grandmother. “Remind you of someone?”

A few tears gathered in Ruth’s eyes. She
avoided Brooke’s stare. “I wasn’t going to say anything. But now
that you bring it up, I suppose…yes, to be honest. You do remind me
of Mary Lou.”

“Me, too,” Brooke stepped forward and
embraced Nan again. “I’ve been thinking about her all day. All the
good times we had cooking together.”

“They were good parents.”

“They were.” Brooke sighed, controlling her
emotions.

“At least you have good memories. Some people
only have bad ones.” They clung to each other, blinking back
tears.

The timer went off. “The cornbread.”

“I’ll set the table.”

“When are people coming?”

“Five.”

“Five! Crap! It’s four thirty. Dinner won’t
be ready until six-thirty.”

“They’re used to eating early.”

“How about we give them some salad first?
Maybe even cornbread?”

“What are they going to do?”

Brooke paced the small room. “A movie?”

“A movie?”

“I’ve got a ton of movies.”

“Oh, I don’t think they’ll like any of your
movies. No offense.”

“How about some of my classics?”

“Classics?”

“Nan, I would’ve jumped Cary Grant’s bones in
a heartbeat.”

“You have Cary Grant movies? Perfect!” Ruth
clapped her hands together.

“Do we have some nibbles?”

“I think I’ve got some microwave popcorn in
the cabinet.” Ruth fished around in several before she came up with
two packages.

“Great!” Brooke bounced up on her toes.

“Hmm, what about Pres? I doubt he feels the
same about Cary Grant,” Ruth said.

“I think I can find something to interest
Pres…in my room.”

Ruth laughed. “Of course!”

Pres and Buddy were the first to arrive. Ruth
had already fed Freddy and Ginger. They were lying in two beds in a
post-dinner stupor, snoring away. Buddy jumped up on the couch and
closed his eyes.

“What can I do to help?” Pres asked, rubbing
his hands together.

“Let’s see. Table is set. Popcorn is in the
microwave. Chili is simmering. Hmm.” She ran her hand through her
hair. “Wait! I know. Help me find my videos.” She grabbed his hand
and led him into her room.

Brooke hadn’t unpacked all the boxes and
several were still stacked in the corner. “They’ve got to be in
here, somewhere,” she said.

Pres grabbed one and tossed it on the bed.
Then another. Brooke sat cross-legged and opened the first. He
joined her.

“I’m actually on your bed,” he snickered.

She wiggled her eyebrows at him. “Enjoy
it.”

“What are we looking for?”

“Videos. Classics. Cary Grant.”

They pawed through stacks of movies. Pres
read out some suggestive titles and shot her a flirtatious glance
after each one.

“Is this one?
Houseboat
?”

“Yes! And here.
Mr. Lucky
.”

“How about
His Girl Friday
?” Pres
checked out the front and back of the DVD.

“Yep. I’ve got two more
. Bringing Up
Baby
and
The Awful Truth
.”

“That last one sounds sexy,” Pres said,
inching closer to her. “The awful truth is that I want to jump you
right here, right now.”

Brooke grinned at him and stacked the DVD’s
on the nightstand. When she turned from him, he wrestled her down
on the bed. Trapping her wrists with his hands, he loomed over
her.

“Ah, just the way I want you,” he said,
before lowering his mouth to kiss her.

Brooke opened for him and arched her back.
Her breasts brushed his chest, and her nipples hardened. Pres took
her mouth, first nibbling on her lips, then sweeping his tongue in
to dance with hers. She melted. He released her hands. She wound
them around his chest, drawing him to her. He propped up on his
knees, raising his head to attack her neck. His fingers closed over
her breast.

“Umm. You smell good.”

“Like apple pie?”

“Yeah. I could eat you up.” She giggled,
raising her knees on either side of his thighs.

“I could take you right here,” he
whispered.

A brisk knock on the door caused the lovers
to jump apart. After a few seconds, it opened. Brooke was
frantically combing her hair with her fingers while Pres used a box
to hide his erection.

“Oh dear. I’m so sorry to…uh…interrupt. The
guests have started arriving.”

“Let me guess. Harry is here, and he’s
hungry.”

“Bingo.” Ruth closed the door again.

Brooke slid off the bed and smoothed her
skirt down. Pres drew her to him. He ran his hands up her back. “Do
I get a raincheck?”

“Absolutely,” she said, staring into blue
eyes darkened with desire. She trailed her forefinger down his
smooth cheek. “Hmm. You even shaved.”

“Which do you prefer—smooth or scruffy?”

She took his face in her hands. “Any way I
can get it.” She kissed him. “Come on.”

He blushed. “Give me a sec.”

“Oops, sorry. Meet me in the living room.”
She plucked the DVD’s off the table and left.

When Brooke entered the room, Harry was
arranging a few chairs in front of the television.

“Dinner and a movie? Great idea!” He smiled
at her as he lined up the last seat. “You’ve inherited brains along
with beauty from your grandmother.”

“Flattery will not get you a bigger piece of
pie, Harry,” Brooke said, her eyes smiling.

“Pie? I had no idea,” he said, licking his
lips.

“No idea? You faker! You can smell it the
minute you walk in.” Brooke laughed.

“So, that’s what I smelled…”

“Harry!” Brooke hooted.

“You’re right. It smells divine. How glorious
of you to bake for us.” He took her hand and kissed it.

“Watch it, Harry. I’ve got my eye on you,”
Pres said, shaking his finger at the older man.

“Damn! He caught me!” Harry feigned fear and
surprise, raising his palms in surrender. Before he could continue,
Mary came in, followed by Betty and John. Brooke attended to the
chili while Pres distributed small bowls of popcorn.

“What are we seeing?” Betty asked.

“It’s Cary Grant night. You have a choice,”
Ruth said, sifting through the stack of half a dozen DVD’s.

“Rattle ’em off,” Harry suggested.

Ruth read the titles.

“I vote for
Houseboat
. Gotta have
something for the men. Sofia Loren.”

“She’s certainly something,” John said.

“A lotta something,” Harry snickered.

“I vote for
Mr. Lucky
. God, he was so
sexy in that one,” Mary put in.

The discussion continued. Once they all had
popcorn, Brooke clapped her hands and got their attention. “Since
this is Ruth’s party, I think she should choose.”

“Oh, no, really. Let someone else.’

“That’s a good idea,” Harry piped up.

“Okay, okay. I’ll pick.
His Girl
Friday
. Because it’s so fast, and Roz Russell is so
fabulous.”

Pres put the DVD in the machine, hit play,
and adjusted the sound up to where everyone could hear it. Ruth
took the seat Harry was saving next to him and the group was quiet
for a bit.

Pres joined Brooke in the kitchen where she
was putting together the salad. He came up behind her and snaked
his arm around her waist. She tossed the greens as he began kissing
her neck.

“If you do that, I’m never gonna get this
dressed.”

“Maybe not. But perhaps I can get you
undressed.”

“Did you take horny pills today?”

“I’m always like this when you’re
around.”

“Not in the park.”

“I hide it well.”

She turned in his arms to face him. His lusty
eyes locked with hers.
Does he care, or is it just sex?
Brooke rested her palms on his chest. His broad shoulders stole her
attention. Her fingertips itched to glide up through the soft hair.
She wanted to kiss his neck, his pecs, and below.