The Kiss on Castle Road (A Lavender Island Novel) (11 page)

“Colonel, really,” Elliott said.

“When’s the last time you kissed a girl good night at her door?” the Colonel barked.

Elliott thought that over.

“Just as I suspected,” the Colonel said. “What’s the last time you got a telling good-night kiss?” he asked Natalie.

Caught off guard, she scrambled to think of her answer.
A telling good-night kiss?
She thought of all her biker dates, and the MMA fighters, and the football player she “hung out” with for a week, and couldn’t think of any first kiss that wasn’t just part of trying to get her into bed. “Um . . .”

“Oh, good heavens. Have you
ever
received a good-night kiss at your door?” The Colonel sounded angry.

“I don’t think I have.”

He blew out an exasperated breath. “You young people today are ruining dating, you know that? There’s an
art
to it. The good-bye kiss is part of the
art
. It tells you how interested you are and how interested you want to be. Now here.” He positioned Elliott and Natalie closer together. “If you’re not that interested when the date’s over, just give her a polite kiss on the cheek and say thank you right afterward. She’ll know that you’re sincerely thankful—and
you’d better be, young man
—but that you’re not interested in moving much beyond that. Here, try it.”

“Colonel, I don’t think I need to practice. I can just—”

“Try it.”

Elliott looked startled, but he stepped forward and kissed Natalie lightly on the cheek. “Thank you,” he said right into her eyes. His thanks seemed to be more about enduring this coaching than anything.

“Good!” the Colonel said. “I bought that. Now if you
are
interested, what will you do?”

Elliott swallowed hard. “Well, I would kiss her better.”

“BETTER?”
the Colonel barked. “
More thoroughly
is the answer. Kiss her
more thoroughly
. Natalie, do you mind if our friend Elliott practices on you?”

“Colonel!” Elliott seemed irritated now. “This isn’t necessary.”

“He can practice on me!” Doris piped up.

“Or me.” Marie smiled.

Natalie grinned and shook her head. “I don’t mind.”

Four sets of eyebrows raised.

“There you go,” the Colonel said. “Now, first—and Natalie, you correct me if I’m wrong—but first, I think you want to reach out and put your hand in her hair. Yes? Marie? Doris?”

The two women bobbed their updos.

“Natalie, do you like it when men put their hands in your hair?”

Another heated blush chased up Natalie’s face. “Yes.”

“Show Elliott where to put his hand.”

Elliott still looked a little startled, but he finally lifted his hand near her ear. Natalie moved it slightly—he was almost right.

He stepped closer. “Here?” he whispered in a voice only she could hear.

She nodded. Her breathing picked up at his nearness, at his masculine scent, at the feel of his forearm, which flexed when she dragged her hand across it after positioning his. She could feel his breath across her temple, his fingers in her hairline. His eyes darted around her face, as if asking if this was okay. It suddenly didn’t feel like playacting anymore.

“Now kiss her like you’re never going to be able to kiss another woman for as long as you live. That’s how we kissed during the war,” the Colonel said.

Natalie meant to smile but couldn’t. She couldn’t seem to muster any frivolity right now. All she could concentrate on was how good Elliott smelled and the crazy pounding of her heart.

“Can I get him off my back and show him I know how to do this?” he whispered.

She simply nodded, staring up into his long eyelashes.

The feel of his lips surprised her—velvety, soft, cautious. She didn’t remember ever feeling lips so soft before. But she also had never been kissed this way before. Elliott wasn’t being aggressive, pushy, moving things along so he could get to the better part, like most of her dates did. He was kissing her thoroughly, carefully, trying to please with just this kiss. His lips moved languidly across hers; then he sucked hard on her bottom lip until her toes curled. Tingles shot out through every one of her extremities. Slowly he backed away.

“That was
great
!” The Colonel’s bald head popped up almost between them. “You’ve got it in you, boy.” He slapped Elliott on the shoulder. “I was worried there for a minute, but I think you’ve got this down. Now, where are you going to take this date of yours? What’s her name? Stephanie?”

Elliott didn’t seem to hear the question at first, concentrating instead on Natalie’s face. But finally he broke the gaze, removed his hand from her hair, and stepped away. “Yes.” He cleared his throat.

Natalie pressed her lips together to make sure her jaw hadn’t dropped. She tried to get her breathing under control, not sure where to look next. Not at Marie or Doris—both women seemed to be grinning at her giddily.

“Okay, Sherman, you’ve got this.” The Colonel clapped him on the back again. “C’mon ladies—let’s get to work. I see visitors coming in.”

He motioned for them to follow, and all three headed down to the pools to begin their volunteer presentations.

“I should go, too,” Natalie said into the silence they left.

She wanted to say something like, “Where did you learn to kiss like that?” or “Can I have another one of those?” But that would be inappropriate, especially since Elliott was already turning back toward his lab office and looking as if he didn’t know what had just happened either.

“Of course.” He shoved his hands back in his lab coat, staring at the bricks.

“So I might see you tonight at the art walk?” She began stepping backward along the pathway, trying not to think about how her body had just lit on fire because of this nerdy lab-coated man. “Good luck on your date. Although I think you got some great advice there from the Colonel. The flowers would be a nice touch. And I think you’ve got the rest . . . pretty down pat.”

Natalie turned and tore down the brick walkway.

The sea lions all barked—or maybe they were laughing—as she ran to the golf cart.

God, she was a mess.

Some mancation.

CHAPTER 9

The art walk was pretty full. Elliott twisted his shoulders and ushered Stephanie through the doorway of the Kublai Khan Gallery. He’d never been to an art walk before, but everyone on Lavender Island seemed to be at this one. The cobbled sidewalks of Main Street teemed with young and old who walked in and out of the galleries, small paper cups in their hands filled with wine. Quartets played at the backs of some of the galleries, oozing jazz into the night. The scent of mushroom-laced appetizers mingled with wine and perfume, wafting through the galleries on a breeze of ocean air. Local artists were on hand, sitting in directors’ chairs near their pieces and answering questions.

“What’s this piece?” Stephanie wandered deeper into Kublai Khan and peered around the corner at a large sculpture made of tin.

She was pleasant. Elliott could find no fault with her, even though his reaction was lukewarm. He didn’t get to pick her up at the door, as the Colonel had suggested. Nell had said exactly what Natalie had—that Stephanie was among the modern women who preferred to meet blind dates at the date location. Elliott could understand that. You never knew who you were going to get.

But he had tried the flowers. He wasn’t a fan of cut flowers, preferring to keep all organisms living, so he found some potted ones outside the little hardware store on Main Street. He asked the elderly clerk for gerbera daisies, since that’s what Natalie had named, and got some in bright pink. They looked just like Natalie to him. But he tried to ignore that fact and bought a small pot for Stephanie. The clerk had kindly tied a bow around it for him.

Stephanie had seemed shocked when he’d handed them to her—not excited, exactly, but surprised. And now she was sort of wondering what to do with them, he could tell. He probably should have stuck with the cut flowers.

“Do you want me to hold those for you?” he finally asked.

“That’d be great.” She shoved them back into his hands.

The event was a good idea for a date, though. Nell had set up this particular date for Stephanie because she was into art. Elliott followed her obligingly, nodding at the information she gave about each piece. He loved when people had passions, like he had about the ocean. Stephanie escaped behind another gallery wall and crooked her finger at him to follow.

He tried not to look around for Natalie. Knowing she was there, somewhere, among the crowd, was hard. Every time he saw a flash of acorn-colored hair, he found his heart racing and his palms getting sweaty. He really needed to reeducate himself on how to focus. He’d been a straight-A student all through school because of his laser focus, but Natalie was keeping him strangely unbalanced.

And, stranger still, he sort of liked it.

His mind kept drifting to her kiss that afternoon. And the cute way she’d ducked her head during the Colonel’s questions about what she liked on a date. She’d seemed embarrassed to admit her preferences, but Elliott had noted them all with interest. He now knew she would think it was romantic to be picked up at the door; she liked gerbera daisies; she liked a man’s hand in her hair, right underneath her earlobe; she’d never been kissed good-bye at her door; and, damn, she had the softest lips.

He’d been embarrassed when the Colonel set up the little “practice” for the two of them. Especially for
kissing
. That was the
one
thing Elliott felt confident about when it came to women. Every other element about what women wanted—touching, sex, foreplay—sort of baffled him, but kissing was fun. Maybe because he’d actually been told in high school that he was a good kisser. Twice. Despite his geeky status. So the Colonel had rattled him to no end this afternoon. But once he’d had his hands in Natalie’s hair and was staring into her eyes, he couldn’t resist going through with the “practice” anyway. There was no one in the world he’d wanted to practice on so badly.

And those lips of hers had not disappointed. One bit. He’d already been partly turned on with the Colonel’s ridiculous questions that made him think about dating Natalie for real. But when their lips met, and all her beauty and promise unfolded right before him, he’d gone hard in an instant. Thank God for lab coats.

“Elliott, come look!”

Stephanie. Yes.
He needed to focus.

He had to think about Stephanie right now and how to make her happy on this date. Natalie was not part of the bargain. She’d made it clear last night with her mancation story that she had no interest in dating. Which meant no interest in dating
him
, he was pretty sure. So he needed to get her out of his mind and enjoy the one he was with. He’d make this work out for Nell. Stephanie was one of Nell’s better friends.

He focused on Stephanie’s well-toned body, on her short hair that made her look sort of playful, and on her glasses, which he usually liked on women. He wished she smiled more, but he could maybe get into that. He concentrated on her intelligence, her passion for art, her seriousness—

“Dr. Sherman?” he heard behind him.

The voice—which he instantly recognized—sent a quiver into his stomach. Joy. Nervousness. Anticipation. It all funneled forward in a heady feeling he didn’t remember ever experiencing before.

“Natalie! Hello.”

She had on another one of her hats tonight—this one a feminine thing, though. Sort of a 1920s-looking bucket hat with a flower on one side that for some reason made her brown eyes look even more huge and beautiful. It was a soft berry color—the same color as her lips, which he couldn’t stop staring at now—the same color as the ice plants on the side of his house that led down to the ocean. She had on a dress that also made him think of 1920s flappers, but she filled hers out better. A lot better. Only a healthy dose of fear and years of his granddad’s reprimands kept his eyes off her breasts.

“Where is she?” Natalie whispered, glancing around.

It took him a second to jolt his mind back to reality and make the connection. “Right around that corner.”

“How’s it going?”

“It’s going okay.”

“You went with live flowers?” She eyed the pot.

“Was that a bad move?” He smiled. “I just like things to stay alive.”

“I feel the same way. The cut ones die so quickly. Potted ones you can enjoy for some time.”

“Exactly.”

“Why do you still have them?”

He lifted them lamely. “She didn’t want to hold them, I guess.”

A disapproving frown crinkled Natalie’s face. “Do you like her?”

“I, uh . . .” He tore his gaze away and looked in Stephanie’s direction. “Yeah, she’s okay. I like her well enough.”

“Do you need any help?”

“Help? I—no. I think it’s going okay.”

Natalie looked over his shoulder, her eyes widening just enough after a second that he knew Stephanie was coming their way.

“Stephanie, this is a friend of mine, Natalie Grant. Natalie, this is Stephanie.”

The women nodded politely at each other. Elliott faced both—his new date and his new crush—and wondered what the hell kind of universe he was in right now.

“Are you having fun?” Natalie asked her.

Dr. Sherman’s date was cute and small. She had short dark hair, layered into a pixie cut that shimmered as she bobbed her answer yes. Her smile was reluctant, almost invisible. Maybe shy. She had glasses on that made her look especially smart.

“Yes. I love the art walk. I come every month if I can,” Stephanie said.

Natalie nodded and stepped back, suddenly feeling as if she was looming over this tiny thing. Natalie had admittedly dressed a little more feminine tonight, but she still felt masculine standing next to Tinker Bell there. Or, scratch that, she’d dressed a
lot
more feminine. Paige had been laughing at her since six o’clock, saying she couldn’t remember Natalie wearing a dress since second grade. But Natalie had simply been feeling so comfortable on the island that she’d wanted to shed some of her usual layers. The dress felt light and fun. And knowing she was only going to be among friends tonight, she thought she’d try this one that Olivia had in her closet.

“So you’re a good docent for Dr. Sherman tonight,” Natalie said from a foot away.

“Elliott,”
he whispered so only she could hear. He followed the reminder up with a private wink.

“I hope so.” Stephanie looked around at the art.

Natalie watched as Elliott looked down at Stephanie—just a quick glance, filled with no clues whatsoever—and yet Natalie felt a twinge of jealousy. She pictured him giving Stephanie those gerbera daisies tonight. Maybe they’d look for a place at her house to plant them . . . Maybe Elliott’s hand would find its way into Stephanie’s short, shimmery hair. Maybe he’d lean down slowly, watching her eyes, and kiss her at her door with one of those amazing kisses.

Natalie looked around desperately for the exit. She needed air. And wine. Wine would be good.

“Which way are you headed?” Elliott asked. “We’re heading north. I think next up is—”

“South!”
Natalie all but shouted. “I’m heading south. I’m going to go now, in fact. I have to find . . .” She waved her hand to let them fill in whatever they wanted, but really she had to go find her sanity and rational behavior. And that wine.

Her face heated up as she fled toward the door; a jazz saxophone wail seemed to follow her as she squeezed through the crowd. Her low shoes made quick time as she snaked across the cement floor, where she joined a cluster of art-walkers around the front table and waited patiently for her Dixie cup of wine, taking deep inhalations of the ocean breeze that came through the front windows.

Damn.
What was wrong with her?

She was not the type to feel jealous. She couldn’t remember ever having those kinds of feelings sweep over her. But, she consoled herself, it wasn’t the man she wanted; it was just the
kiss
. Somehow that made her feel better, although she knew she shouldn’t examine her logic too closely.

She snatched a cup off the card table and downed it in one gulp. As she crushed the paper in her hands in a very unladylike way, she caught a glimpse of John-O and Doris across the gallery. In seconds, she was at John-O’s side, laughing at something he was saying, touching Doris’s shoulder, offering thanks for their compliments on her outfit tonight, gazing up at the Kublai Khan art, and hoping to avoid seeing Elliott and cute Stephanie exit together. She felt bad that she wasn’t helping him on his date as she’d promised, but he’d said he was fine. And with that mouth of his . . . She shook the image off and tried not to imagine his lips.

He’d be
fine
.

As soon as she thought the coast was clear, she exited Kublai Khan and headed south.

She truly had been going north, but she could head down to her bicycle and leave now. She didn’t need to stay.

Although she hated the idea that she was letting a man chase her away from a good time.

She forced herself back into a few more galleries she’d been in already and ran into a surprising number of people she knew. Olivia hadn’t come tonight, of course, but Natalie recognized a lot of Olivia’s friends. Plus, she ran into Steve Stegner, George, Sugar, Marie, and even Mrs. Conner from the post office, who was dancing to some techno tunes in the Futuroso Gallery. Paige came late and finally introduced her to Tag
Tagalieri
. He was cute, but Natalie simply shot Paige a warning look and mouthed “the bet” at her.

As the night wound down, Natalie peeled off her shoes and wandered toward her beach-cruiser bicycle in the lower parking lot. She inhaled the salty, familiar scent of the cool ocean air as it tossed tendrils of hair across her cheeks and blew her dress around her legs.

As she threw her shoes and purse into the front basket, a figure sitting out in the sand caught her eye.
Is that . . . ?
She squinted harder through the dark and headed in that direction. The sand was cold beneath her bare feet as she drew closer.

“Elliott?”

The wind swept his hair in front of his eyes as he turned his head. “Natalie! We keep running into each other.”

“What are you doing here? Where’s Stephanie?”

“We saw her ex in the Kokopelli Gallery and they . . . uh . . . rekindled, I guess. Behind one of the Chinese tapestries.” The moonlight bounced off the ocean and illuminated his sad smile.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She bent her legs beneath her and sank into the sand beside him. “That sucks.”

“It’s okay. I wasn’t very interested in her anyway.” He threw a piece of driftwood out toward the water. “Maybe I’m off the hook.”

The waves crashed wildly in front of them. Natalie glanced at the ocean. The beach was always peaceful at this time of night, the water so dark it seemed a black hole for secrets that you might want to whisper and be absolved of by morning. The only sounds to interrupt were the waves rolling forward and hissing back, and some crickets chirping in the distance, up by the sidewalk.

She swept some of the sand to the side and relaxed beside him. He had his arms wrapped around his knees, his ankles crossed. His shoes sat in the sand. The pot of daisies lay pathetically nearby, getting sand blown into them.