Family Skeletons Page 8

“Ryan wanted to visit again when he had more time. Now that we’ve got the TV, I was thinking about inviting him up for Sunday football. He could stay over for the Monday night game, and he could help get those heavier pieces down from the attic. Does that sound all right to you?”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you want to call him, or should I?”

  Her laugh made her feel normal again. “If I invited him up here to watch football, he’d think I was delirious and get worried.”

  “I don’t have an objection to him inviting Marcus if he wants to. But I don’t know how to tell him that.”

  Sunny leaned against the wall, folded her arms and grinned up at him. “Same way you just put it to me should work.”

  A slow, sheepish smile spread across his face. “Yes. We do build our own mountains out of mole hills, don’t we?”

  When he started back to his chores, she remained on the stairs, and he turned back and gave her a questioning look. “Something else?”

  “Just wondering about dinner. I’ve got a package of ground round, but I don’t know what I want to do with it.”

  “I like meat loaf.”

  She looked up. “Baked potato? Mashed?”

  “Mashed.”

  “Vegetable preference?”

  “Peas are good.”

  “Thank you, Jonathan. It’s a treat cooking for someone who knows what he wants.”

  At the bottom of the stairs she realized what she’d said, and she broke into a smile that lasted all the way to the kitchen. She’d once thrown their breakfast into the garbage because he’d known what he wanted and had told her. But if he’d also noticed the contradiction between then and now, he’d said nothing about it.

  Smart man.

  And one hell of a kisser.

  Stop it, Sunny.

  * * *

  The next morning Sunny sat alone at the kitchen table and stared with growing irritation at the skillet on the stove, nothing in it but a dab of margarine. She was making an omelet, one big one they’d split between them, but she couldn’t pour the egg mixture into the pan until Jonathan was up. And, instead of staying warm in the oven, the hash browns were well on their way to drying out in there.

  Yesterday’s search had left the attic in a mess. She wanted to get back up there, but half the workforce was still in his bed, and apparently he’d grown immune to the sound of her voice. Repeated hollering of his name had gained her nothing but a tired throat.

  She got up, walked the hall and mounted the stairs. His snores grew louder as she neared his room. She opened the door without bothering to knock. He was flat on his back, eyes closed and mouth open. She dashed to the bed, jumped on it and straddled him, gripped his shoulders and shook. His mouth closed and his eyes snapped open. She hopped off the bed as quickly as she’d hopped on.

  “Breakfast is ready.”

  No longer irritated, she walked unhurriedly out of the room and down the stairs.

  The omelet slid neatly out of the pan onto a plate the same moment he entered the kitchen. When she looked up she caught annoyance in his eyes and the set of his shoulders. She also detected challenge, which made her study him for an extra second. And he was unshaven, which made her realize she liked him with beard stubble. Hmm.

  “I hope you appreciate my restraint,” she said with a straight face. She replaced the skillet on the stove, walked around to her chair, sat down and put the platter on the table. “I thought about adding cheese to the eggs, but wasn’t sure you’d like it.” She helped herself to potatoes, cut away a third of the omelet and put it on her plate, then half rose out of her chair to put the platter next to his place setting. “Do you like cheese omelets?”

  He sat down without answering.

  “As you’ll note, there’s no butter on your toast.” She picked up her knife and proceeded to butter hers. “And we need to go shopping. This is the last of the potatoes. We’re also out of bacon and I’d like to get some sausage links. Do you like sausage?”

  No answer. He picked up the egg platter.

  She tested the omelet, found it a little plain, but not bad.

  “Sunny?”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s only fair to warn you.” He appeared to have worked through his annoyance because his voice held a casual note. His manner was precise, but not stiff, as he slid the remainder of omelet onto his plate. “If you ever do that again, jump on top of me in bed, you need to understand you will not be getting out of that bed until I’m ready to let you go.”

  Well. That kind of plain speaking, from a man as reserved as Jonathan, required some thought, especially because of the unexpected yet undeniable dare. She took a bite of toast and chewed it as she watched him. As composed and unruffled as ever, he cut into his omelet and watched her right back.

  Not once in her life had Sunny not responded to a challenge.

  “Oh, yeah?” she said, quite originally.

  “Yes,” he said politely. “Consider that a promise.”

  Chapter Ten

  September seemed determined to leave an impression. When the temperature gauge that seldom rose to eighty climbed toward ninety, Sunny and Jonathan were forced out of the attic and to the beach.

  Quite willingly, Sunny left grisly discoveries and guilty confessions behind her. But she found that memories of comforting gestures that went straight to the sexual gut were more difficult to leave behind. And, although Jonathan Corday had a stuffy side, she was now aware that no one wore soapsuds better than he did.

  They wore nothing more revealing than shorts and tank tops as they played on the beach, however. And the physical, sexy horseplay one might expect between two attractive and healthy people of opposite sexes—which could lead to sexy play of a heavier nature—never became an issue. Not because they consciously avoided it, but simply because Jonathan wasn’t the kind of man who was inclined to toss a woman over his shoulder and then into the ocean. Sunny found she appreciated that. She was able to enjoy his company without male slash female sparring.

  Well, almost none, she thought as she washed dinner dishes. That speech of his after she’d jumped on top of him to wake him up a couple of mornings ago was as suggestive as it was challenging. It’d been as uncharacteristic for him—and she’d thought she had a handle on him—as it was unusual for her to be backing off. And backing off she was, though she didn’t like admitting it. They’d changed roles, it appeared, which was as surprising to her as her recently found prudence. Maybe Mavis was right. Had Sunny met her match?

  Sunny frowned at the dishwater. Then decisively she upended the pan and finished up so she could go run a bath and wash the day’s heat and sand off herself like she’d washed food off the plates. Too bad her nagging musings couldn’t also be scrubbed off in the bath and disappear down the drain.

  The next day was another warm one, and Sunny chased shade around the house while she worked in the geranium beds. Though she’d had little experience in gardening, she was discovering that the smell of freshly turned earth and the vanquishing of weeds was an excellent way to soothe one’s soul. It compared quite well with meditation—was even superior to it because she’d never been able to sit still long enough to meditate.

  Cat kept trying to dig a hole, and Sunny kept brushing her away while she tilled around the stalks Langley Bowers had killed. Hopefully the joint of a healthy plant would root itself and fill in. Gorgeous colors: rich reds, purples and plums, and a delicate strawberry pink she took extra time with. As she worked, she realized she’d gone beyond the deal she’d made with her mother to clean out the old Victorian and prepare it for sale. By tending the flowers, she was nurturing the place.

  She paused, wrinkling her forehead as she caught an unpleasant smell. Cat had managed to dig her hole after all and now sat above it in a natural, unmistakable pose.

  “Oh, shit, you stinky cat. You had to do that? Right now, right there?”

  When she started to rise, she became aware that Jonathan was behind her. He gra
sped her elbow, and she allowed him to assist her to her feet.

  “Yes, it appears she has to do that, right now and right there.” He slanted an amused, fond look at the half-grown cat and its regal pose. Then he directed the same easy look at Sunny. “Some things never change. I became aware the first time I met you that you had a mouth on you, and this still holds true.”

  Her brow furrowed as she tried to remember what she’d said. She had good recall of her language—which she didn’t think was that bad—during his unfortunate encounter as opposed to her fender bender, but what had she just said...oh. Okay.

  “Yes,” she said in the prim, professional tone reserved for schoolteachers and octogenarians. “I used a very crude name to refer to a perfectly natural substance. How rude of me. Do you think you can find it in your heart to let it go this time?”

  His gaze moved to her lips and stayed there. “Yes, quite a mouth,” he said softly, then lowered his to hers and claimed it.

  She’d seen the kiss coming, met it and him halfway, and then she let the heat build—liking it, savoring it, and giving it right back. To hell with prudence. When he drew away she noted his bemused expression. If he’d been testing her, he now had more questions than before he’d kissed her.

  Sunny peeled her gloves off, patted them against her leg. “We’ve been dancing around that for quite some time now,” she said conversationally. She knew how to be cool, too.

  He waited a beat. “And?”

  His eyes weren’t just green; they were the color of the greenest grass. “Well, if you’re going to be staid, then be staid,” she said. “If you’re going to be sexy, then be sexy.”

  “Staid,” he echoed. His lips pursed as he thought that over, his gaze going off to the side. She noted that was the only adjective he was questioning. He looked back. “I believe I heard two unspoken words in that speech. Predictable. And unpredictable.”

  She thought over his statement, nodded. “Okay. That, too.”

  “You’re about as unpredictable as unpredictable can get. That might be one of the few things we have in common.”

  “Might be.”

  He waited a longer beat. “I’m thinking some exploration might be in order.”

  Not wanting to let him know he’d thrown her, she tried not to let her eyes narrow or her brow to wrinkle. He was doing it again. Another provocative statement from a person from whom she did not expect provocative statements. Romantic exploration was in order?

  Then with his eyes and a nod of his head, he indicated the grove of trees across the grassy field. “I want to explore over there. Would you like to join me?”

  Exactly...what...did he want to explore over there? He was inviting her.

  Was he too innocent, or was she too suspicious?

  Okay, until further notice, take him literally.

  She looked down at the row of geraniums, one end neat and the other not, and she decided to think about his guilelessness—or lack thereof—and her skepticism later. “Thanks, but I want to finish up here.”

  He walked away in that precise, straight-backed stride, and Cat followed. As she watched him, she pursed her lips. Maybe it hadn’t appeared so at first, but that man had more than his share of sex appeal.

  So, Sunny, what are you going to do about that?

  She pulled her gloves back on, knelt, and got back to work.

  Finish this flowerbed, that’s what.

  * * *

  The sun’s heat finally let up the next day. Sunny rose early, let Cat out, and then she couldn’t resist letting herself out as well. The day was brisk, clear sky, no fog. Sweatshirt weather—at least for another hour or two. She ran upstairs to get it and pulled it on over her white tee. Halfway back down the stairs, she paused and looked up. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she hollered, “Good morning. I’m going for a walk. You’ve got a half-hour. Tops.”

  She continued down the stairs, out the door, and then on to the beach. Cat caught up and then led. The kitten kept her distance from the water, but the rest of the beach was her private playground. Sunny didn’t keep her distance from the surf; that was her playground.

  Once she was back home, she kicked the sneakers off and rinsed her feet and shoes with the backyard hose. She entered the kitchen, went to the hall and again cupped her hands to her mouth to yell, “I’m back. If you’re not up, get up.”

  She pulled the sweatshirt off, started coffee, and decided on oatmeal and cantaloupe for breakfast. The cereal was ready before he showed so she turned the flame off, put a lid on the pot, yelled again, poured more coffee and sat down to wait. After that unorthodox awakening he’d been subjected to last week he’d been tuned to the sound of her voice. He’d show any minute.

  She gave the red-checked oilcloth a critical look. This has gotta go. A peachy print would be pretty, just simple cotton, nothing fancy.

  She eyed the faded yellow cabinets. A deep peach there, off-white walls, and—

  Catching herself, she smiled. No way. The new owners could do their own decorating.

  Then the smile vanished. Enough time had passed that she gave the empty hallway an irritated scowl. “Jonathan! Get down here or go hungry!”

  Silence. She drew in a breath, blew it out, and drained the last of her coffee.

  Pour a cup for him, take it upstairs and douse him with it.

  But she walked the hallway empty-handed and climbed the stairs. No snoring this time. She knocked, got no response, so went ahead and opened his door. His mouth was closed as well as his eyes. Covers were pulled up to his chin.

  Don’t even think about it. He wasn’t bluffing.

  She remained in the doorway.

  No, Sunny.

  She didn’t budge.

  Okay, you’re not a coward. But you are an idiot. An absolute idiot.

  She moved fast, but his arms closed around her the instant her knee touched the mattress. She didn’t have a chance to straddle him as she had before, so he helped her into position. She was on top, but he was in control. His green eyes were smiling and smug.

  “You weren’t asleep,” she accused.

  “And you knew it.”

  “You set me up.”

  “And you knew it.”

  His face was too angular to be storybook handsome, but he was easy on the eyes. His hands moved lightly up and down her waist, then slipped beneath her t-shirt. Her skin tingled. She wondered if he noticed, and then he smiled. He’d noticed.

  He was bare-chested. She guessed the rest of him was just as bare. Her breathing speeded up a notch.

  “You’re not struggling,” he observed.

  “No, I’m not,” she agreed. With her palms resting on either side of his pillow she leaned down and kissed each eyelid.

  He made a groaning sound. “Are you sure about this, Sunny?”

  No, I’m not. But I’m gonna do it anyway.

  Beneath her cotton tee, his hands teased their way up her back. She kissed his lips, chin, neck, then returned to his mouth for a longer time. His response made her wonder who was kissing and who was responding. She felt fingers playing with her bra strap.

  When she realized his facial skin was smooth, she raised her head. “How did you manage to shave without my knowing it?”

  “I’m talented.”

  “And well-planned. And devious.”

  “Thank you.”

  Her bra became unfastened. The palms of his hands smoothed her back, spreading until his thumbs rested feather light at the outside swell of her breasts.

  “Think about this, Sunny.” His voice was husky, eyes smoky. “It’s not too late yet, but we’re getting there.”

  “Looks like you’re the one who’s struggling.” She continued to play around his mouth with hers.

  Fingers trailed down to the hem of her shirt, teasing her skin as they moved. He bunched the fabric in his hands.

  “I’m sure,” he whispered. “But I also want you to be sure. I don’t enter relationships lightly.”

&
nbsp; That gave her pause. She didn’t pull away, but her hesitance must have communicated itself because his hands moved to her waist again, a safer positioning, yet still holding her in place.

  “I didn’t say that because I wanted to talk you out of it,” he said softly. “I don’t want you to change your mind.”

  She leaned down. With her lips touching his, she whispered, “I don’t want to change my mind either.” Then she straightened and allowed him to pull the t-shirt off over her head. The bra went with it.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

  She swallowed hard. “I already got a pretty good look at you once. And I kinda liked what I saw, too.”

  “You haven’t seen anything yet,” he murmured, and changed their positions in order to help her out of her jeans.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sunny and Jonathan went out for breakfast. Congealed oatmeal and dried-out cantaloupe lacked appeal. At a nod from her, he guided the SUV into the parking lot of the first restaurant they came to on the outskirts of Castleton. As Sunny alighted from the truck with a bounce in her step, she realized that for the first time in a long time her mood actually matched her name.

  The hostess led them to a table, and Jonathan pulled a chair out for Sunny. She sat, looked up at him, and then down at her hand resting comfortably on his larger one on the arm of the chair. She liked the way it looked there.

  The hostess smiled. “Newlyweds?”

  “Huh?” Sunny’s head jerked up. Holding the smile, the woman walked away.

  Jonathan grinned as he sat down. “It shows.”

  Her face warmed. “Something shows.” She buried herself in the menu.

  “My dear Sunny, I do believe I’m seeing a side of you I never saw before.”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  “I suggest you get used to the feeling, because the activity which caused it might be happening again from time to time.”

  His words gave her such a delicious—and impish—feeling that she gave him a look over the top of the menu that made his face go slack. He hitched in a breath. “Eat fast.”

  They ordered waffles. His was plain and hers was smothered in enough strawberries and whipped cream that she had to search for the waffle.