Moonlight, Motorcycles, and Bad Boys Page 4

  “Woohoo!” Her shout shattered the quiet. “Touchdown!”

  Grinning, Reiner closed his eyes and rested his head against the leather seat. “You got that right.”

  Gina whipped into his drive, braking mere inches from the garage door.

  “Ever see the nose of one of these babies crumple?” Reiner muttered.

  “Nope.”

  “Get much closer to anything before you hit those brakes, and you’ll get a chance.” He opened his car door and tumbled out.

  “Party pooper,” she pouted. Grabbing his hand, she said, “So show me your house.”

  “Let’s take a swim first.” He tugged at her and led her around to the back.

  “I didn’t bring a suit.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing. Last one in’s a rotten egg.” In two seconds flat, she’d stripped and dove cleanly into the pool, surfacing to see Reiner still on the pool-deck. “Come on, big boy. Get a move on.”

  Too much to drink and too little sleep had turned Reiner’s usually nimble body into leaden clay. He managed to toe off his shoes and tug his shirt over his head. When his jeans stuck on one foot, he collapsed on the edge of the pool to remove them.

  “Hell with it.” Still in his boxers, he joined Gina in the pool.

  “No fair,” she cried. “Foul.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I am feelin’ foul.” He swam to the ladder, hoisted himself out, and dripped over to a double chaise.

  Sprawled on it, he patted a spot beside him. “Come here.”

  Gina didn’t need a second invitation. Naked as a jaybird, she climbed out of the pool and snuggled into him, giggling when, eyes closed, he pulled her close to nuzzle her neck.

  “God, I’ve missed you, Katie Sara.”

  He dropped off to sleep.

  Chapter Six

  His head hurt. His mouth tasted like the bottom of a birdcage, his eyes felt like two burned-out light sockets, and his ears! They rang like the bells of Notre Dame!

  No. Not his ears. The doorbell. Someone with a death wish was leaning on it. Reiner peeled one eye open a crack and found himself squinting into full sunlight. Pain shot to the back of his eyeball, and he snapped the lid shut.

  Reptilian-like, his eyes opened to mere slits as he raised his head. He was outside, on the chaise, in his boxers. Dropping his head back onto the cushion, he groaned. Ridges imprinted the side of his face, and he had no feeling whatsoever in his left arm. He must have lain on it all night.

  The doorbell rang again. He flinched and covered his ears.

  His blood-shot eyes passed over, stopped, returned to the scrap of candy-apple-red lace on the bottom of his pool. Thong undies.

  Even in his muddle-headedness, he recognized trouble. Slowly, painfully, bits and pieces of the night before returned. Katie Sara... Gina. Oh, boy! He raked his fingers through his hair, head throbbing as the doorbell pealed again...and again...and again.

  “All right! Keep your pants on, would you?” He winced. Bad choice of words. Very bad choice. “I’m comin’!”

  He opened the slider into the great room and headed toward the offending noise, vowing to rip the head off whoever was there. Catching sight of himself in a mirror the designer had hung in the foyer, he backtracked and swiped some sort of throw-thing from the back of the sofa, wrapping it around himself and tucking in the end. It looked like a damn kilt.

  Well, whoever’d come snooping around could just take him as he was. Served them right for waking him up.

  Jeez, his head hurt. How many beers had he had last night?

  Worse, had he and Gina done the deed? Argh. This was not like him. Despite the reputation he’d garnered, he was actually very careful. Darnedest thing, though. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember much more than the fact that he’d felt half-sick by the time he got home.

  He jerked open the door, almost tearing it off its hinges. “What do you want?”

  Auntie Belham’s mouth dropped open, and her diamond-and-platinum-adorned finger stilled over the doorbell. Ivan the Terrible, the white Maltese prancing around her feet, started yapping.

  “And they think I’m a freak.” This came from the creature beside her, dressed entirely in black, ears and nose pierced, her short, spiked hair flaming red with a swath of vivid violet down one side. From her hand swung a cage containing a hideous, hairy, white-and-black creature.

  “Oh, shit.”

  “Watch your mouth.” Auntie Belham, five-foot-three and slightly overweight, was herself a sight straight off Blackwell’s worst-dressed list in a flowery skirt and a blue and white striped pullover. She’d pinned a huge blue crystal starfish-looking thing to the top. Red high heels and belt completed her fashion statement.

  A nightmare.

  She bulldozed her way past him.

  Panicked, he stepped in front of her. “I thought you were coming this afternoon.”

  She ignored him. “Come along, Felicity. Uncle Reiner will bring your things in later.”

  “Wait.” Reiner held out his hands, his mind racing. “I haven’t had time to shop yet.” He shot them a lopsided grin. “The cupboard’s bare. How about I treat you two beautiful ladies to breakfast? Why don’t you go on ahead to the Egg Basket, give me a few minutes to, ah, get dressed, and I’ll meet you there.”

  Auntie Belham tipped her head, then narrowed her eyes. She leaned toward him, but quickly backed up, holding her breath. “Out with the boys last night? I assume Tim and Rocco took part in this. Did the three of you leave any alcohol in the bars, or is Paradox now a dry town?”

  He opened his mouth.

  She shook her head. “Felicity, I think I left my keys in the car. Would you go check, please?”

  “Sure. I’ll leave Shiner here.” With a glare toward her uncle, she set down the cage. “And he’s a hamster, not a rat.”

  “Same difference,” Reiner muttered.

  “Is not,” she answered as she started down the walk. A few steps away, his niece pivoted and threw Reiner a devilish grin. “Boy, are you in for it.”

  He scowled at her.

  “The keys are a ploy to get rid of me while she nails you to the wall. Believe you me, she’s good at it. I ought to know.”

  Hands on her hips, the girl’s great-aunt turned toward her, and Felicity scooted down the walk as though shot from a cannon.

  The minute she was out of earshot, Auntie Belham rounded on him. “Do you have a woman in this house, Reiner Hewett Broderick?”

  “No!” Jeez, did he? He honestly wasn’t sure. Sweat trickled between his shoulder blades and down his bare back. He had a pair of red panties in his pool. Had Gina gone home without them, or was she somewhere in the house?

  His eyes must have given him away.

  “You do!”

  “I...”

  She stood in the middle of the great room and called out, “Ollie, ollie oxen free. Come out, come out, wherever you are. Playtime’s over, Sleeping Beauty.”

  With a moan, Reiner dropped onto a loveseat and covered his head with his hands. “Master bedroom’s to the left.”

  “Don’t be cute.”

  “Just tryin’ to be helpful.”

  He listened as she disappeared in the direction of his bedroom, the room he certainly hadn’t slept in last night. He held his breath. What would she find in there?

  When she came out empty-handed, he exhaled loudly. “The only other bedroom is Felicity’s. Off the kitchen to the right.” He nodded his head in that direction, grabbed it quickly and groaned.

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “No, I wouldn’t, and I didn’t.” He could only pray Gina hadn’t.

  Belhamina stormed off to look anyway.

  When she returned to stand over him, he asked, “Wanna check the basement?”

  “No, I do not. I’m too old for this.”

  He snorted. “Admit it. You love it! They ought to send you over to the Middle East. If they put you in charge of things, the war’d be over in a
day. Two, max. You’d have both sides runnin’ for cover.”

  Refusing to be diverted, Auntie Belham tapped her foot. “Where is she?”

  Reiner didn’t get up, didn’t even raise his head. Instead, he stared at the open toes of his aunt’s red shoes and the toenails she’d painted the same shade.

  “Who?” he asked.

  “I don’t suppose it was Katie Sara.”

  “Unh!” He knuckled his eyes. “For God’s sake, I’m tired. I’m hung over. My head aches.”

  “Who was she?”

  Ivan, his Atlanta Braves ball cap askew, jumped up and licked Reiner’s face, exhaling doggie breath at close range, and he fought with his stomach.

  “Ahhh.” He swiped at his cheek. “Go away, Ivan. Bad dog.”

  “He’s not a bad dog. He is, however, showing considerably bad taste concerning with whom he chooses to consort at the moment.”

  “Consort?” His head jerked up. “Jeez,” he grumbled, “You make it sound like—”

  “What? Like you might ask him to spend the night next? Jocks!” Ignoring his look of outrage, she repeated, “Who was she?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “I probably don’t. But she’s gone?”

  He sighed. “I think so. You checked the bedrooms.”

  “You don’t—Reiner, even for you that’s—”

  “I agree.” He held up his hands in surrender and met her eyes, knowing she read him like a book. She always had. “Look, last night was... Let’s just say it wasn’t a good night. Katie Sara and I—”

  “So, it was her?”

  “No.”

  She frowned. “But you saw her?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “And?”

  “Lots of thunder and lightnin’. It didn’t quite come to fisticuffs, but it was one hell...sorry, one heck of a storm. A few angry words, some nasty insults hurled at each other. She warned me to stay away from her, and if I’m smart, I’ll do exactly that.” A muscle twitched in his jaw.

  “You drowned your sorrow in a keg and another woman.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” he lied.

  “Can I come in yet?” Felicity called from the front door.

  “No,” they answered in unison.

  Ivan the Terrible ran to her, dancing in circles, and she scooped him up.

  “Well, then, can I go around back? Check out the pool?”

  “No!” Reiner spurted off the couch. “Absolutely not!”

  Head angled, Auntie Belham studied him.

  “They’re, ah, still finishing a couple things back there. It might not be safe. The workers should, ah, finish up this afternoon.”

  Belhamina started for the pool, her heels clicking on the hard wood floor.

  “Auntie Belham, no! Wait!” He grabbed for her arm, but no running back had ever better outmaneuvered a linebacker.

  Three steps onto the pool deck, she stopped, staring into the cool blue water at the miniscule piece of lingerie.

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “You’re a mind reader now?”

  Heat suffused his face. One hand on his afghan-covered hip, he ran the other through his hair. “I stopped for a beer after my run-in with Katie Sara, okay? A game of pool. Figured it would cool me off. Rocco and Tim came in while I was there.”

  “Don’t tell me Rocco was here. Not with that sweet wife and baby. I’ll skin him alive.”

  “Rocco?” Horrified, Reiner denied it quickly. “Absolutely not. They went home. Both of them. To their credit, they tried to talk me out of...” He waved toward the pool. “But—my car!”

  Gripping the throw with one hand to keep it from sliding off, he ran, barefoot, around the side of the house. No shiny red Corvette parked in the driveway. He held up a hand to block the sun and peered through the garage windows. Empty.

  He swore a blue streak. A pair of red panties in exchange for a brand new red ’Vette.

  He’d only been in Paradox one day. Just imagine what he could do in two.

  Felicity rounded the corner from the backyard, pool net in hand. “Hey, Uncle Reiner, look what I found in the bottom of your pool.”

  Chapter Seven

  “I need some furniture. Cheap.” Katie Sara relaxed in one of the mismatched chairs pulled up to Rhonda’s maple-veneer table and grinned at the drawing of Cinderella meets Spiderman. Tucking the flaps of a Fruit Loops box, she slid it alongside the Flintstones vitamins. Not much doubt two munchkins lived here.

  A tiny fist of pain clutched her heart. Someday, she thought. Someday, she’d have this. A family of her own. Well, maybe. Her best and oldest friend didn’t quite have it all, but she had the children—minus the jerk who’d fathered them. And bully to her for that.

  “There’s a great little shop outside of town,” Rhonda said. “Winds of Change. It’s a big old barn that would make an extraordinary house. Ruth Dilbert owns it, and she gets stuff in from all over the place. Sometimes there’s nothing, but...” She shrugged.

  “Let’s do it, then.” Katie Sara grabbed her purse and keys from the counter. “It’s sure nice of your mom to keep Krista so that you can go with me today.”

  “She loves it. To be honest, I don’t know what I’d do without Mom. Raisin’ kids is tough. After doing battle with Nicole last night, I finally agreed to let her go with some friends today to a water park in Atlanta. Casey’s mom is taking them. Eleven, as Nicole informed me, is plenty old to do that.” Rhonda blew out her breath. “Keep your fingers crossed.”

  She scooped up her purse. “I need to run by the beauty shop to pick up a brush Gina ordered for me.” Rhonda ran a hand through her mass of shoulder-length, reddish-blond curls. “She promises it’ll help tame this mess.”

  “People pay a fortune trying to duplicate that hair, pal.”

  “Yeah?” She narrowed her light blue eyes. “Well, they’re more than welcome to mine. Unfortunately, Krista and Nicole both inherited their hair from me, poor darlin’s. It would have been the one nice thing Woody could have done for them, given them his beautiful straight blond hair.” She shrugged. “Should have known he wouldn’t have the decency to do even that.”

  Katie Sara’d barely begun to squeeze her Mustang into the tight parking space in front of Gina’s Hair Salon when Rhonda jerked upright and slid sideways in her seat, blocking her side view.

  “You know what? Forget the brush! Duh! I’m sure it isn’t in yet. Stupid me!” She slapped herself upside the head. “She said next week, not this week!”

  Katie Sara craned her neck to peer around her friend. “Rhonda, I can’t see to park.”

  “It doesn’t matter. We don’t have to stop.”

  When Katie Sara stared at her normally calm, collected friend suddenly turned manic, Rhonda started waving her hands in a shooing motion. “Go! Go!”

  “What in the world is wrong with you?”

  Rhonda smiled weakly. “I don’t want someone else grabbing the best buys. Some of those older women...” She shook her head. “They practically camp outside Ruth’s barn, waiting for the doors to open.”

  Katie Sara’s brows drew together, then shot skyward when she saw what her pal had already spotted. Had tried to hide. Half in, half out of the parking space, she sat, Mustang idling, temper racing.

  “T-O-P-D-A-W-G,” she muttered. Only one red ’Vette with that personalized plate...and there it sat, bold as crabgrass in a manicured lawn. It was parked in Gina’s own private parking slot, a trophy on display. “TOP DAWG, my foot. Scum-sucking bottom-feeder is more like it!”

  The despicable jerk had certainly suffered last night, hadn’t he? While she’d lain awake late into the night, replaying the way he’d looked, that dark hair, those midnight-blue eyes, remembering his touch on her arm, their argument, he’d—well, she wouldn’t think what he’d done. And with Gina Altenburg.

  TOP DAWG. He was a dog, all right. A mangy, flea-bitten hound dog.

  To think that when she’d driven into Paradox Sunday
morning, she’d sat in front of her new home, picturing how perfect it all was. How everything had come together. Karma. Hah! Karma, my eye! The joke was on her. Things had come together, but more along the lines of the Bermuda Triangle, and everything was sinking fast.

  Her heart refused to listen to her mind. It would not shut out the image of Reiner and Gina. And it hurt. Far worse than she’d ever imagined it could. Of course there’d been other women in his life. She wasn’t a fool! Reiner Broderick was a red-hot, all-American male. Make that scorching red-hot!

  But those women had been pictures in magazines. In tabloids. Phantoms. This was real. This was the other woman in flesh-and-blood. Twerpy, scatter-brained Gina, and Reiner had slept with her!

  Memories rushed over Katie Sara. The touch of Reiner’s hands on her skin, the brush of his fingers over her breasts. The frantic need for more, always more. And his kisses! God, they’d sent her over the edge. It had been heaven on earth in his arms, and she’d given in, gone all the way with Bad Boy Broderick.

  The pulse point at her neck jackhammered in time with her heart, even all these years later.

  Despite everything that had followed, she’d cherished those memories, memories she’d finally managed to tuck away like a well-worn but still seductive forget-me-not. She had never regretted a moment. Until now, when Reiner and Gina had shared that same intimacy practically under her nose.

  “Let’s go, Katie Sara.”

  “No. Let’s pick up that brush. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Gina.”

  Rhonda trotted up the walk behind Katie Sara. “I honestly think you should reconsider. Bargin’ into Gina’s isn’t one of your better ideas.”

  “Why, I’m not bargin’, Rhonda. I’m payin’ a social call,” she drawled, all sweet Southern belle. “It’s been a dog’s age since I’ve seen her. Seems only neighborly to drop by now that I’m going to be living here.”

  Rhonda snorted.

  Katie Sara shrugged. “Think what you will.”

  Staring at the bungalow with its slightly tilted steps and listing porch, she took a second to catch her breath and reclaim her equilibrium.