around her. Even with the dark clouds overhead, the neighborhood felt warm and friendly. Pretty.
Classy, too.
There was an outdoor basketball court at the end of the street, and beyond that a small green area and tiny park with a set of swings and a slide and a few benches. And beyond that, woods, lots and lots of woods.
She got out of her car, and her heart knocking against her ribs again, she knocked.
Thunder cracked, making her jerk. She knocked again.
But no one answered, and as the sun began to dip into the sky her aloneness settled into her gut, along with the realization that she had no money and nowhere else to go.
Inside her house, Mia let out a long breath and moved through the wide space. Her own haven. In her bedroom she removed all her protective layers—her Michael Kors, her Prada, her makeup—and when she was stripped bare, she showered.
And then, not looking at her missing eyebrow or the angry red welt/burn above it, she wrapped herself in her French silk robe and padded barefoot through the living room to stand in front of her huge picture windows. The storm had moved in and rain slashed down with a soothing sound.
Her hair fell straight and wet to her shoulders, dripping into the silk and cooling her still-heated skin. Beneath her robe, her body seemed different.
Anticipatory. Hopeful. Tight and achy.
It made no sense. She’d gotten off just last night. And as Kevin knew what he was doing in that department, she’d have thought the effects would last her a while.
And yet, truthfully, it wasn’t mindless sex she yearned for…
But familiarity. Someone who knew her. Someone to smile at her and tell her she was fine.
Since that was a discomforting thought, she moved to her liquor cabinet and poured herself a glass of wine, trying not to think about Kevin at home right now, possibly also fresh from a shower, stretched out naked on his bed, big and lean and gorgeous. Sipping her drink, she moved through her living room, enjoying the smooth, shiny hardwood floors beneath her feet, the lovely silence.
The doorbell rang, shattering that silence, making her jump and nearly spill her wine. Then, before she could recover or even react, a heavy knock followed.
“Coming,” she muttered and moved toward the door. On tiptoes, she put her eye to the peephole, then went still.
Kevin stood there, his face very close to the opening as he waved.
She looked down at herself. Silk robe and nothing else. Bare feet. Wet hair.
No makeup.
She wished she’d taken a shot of whiskey instead of the glass of wine she still held, because her body wanted to let him in. Everywhere. Luckily, her brain held back. Good, brain. “I’m a little busy,” she said through the door.
“This isn’t about you, Mia. Open up. It’s raining like a mother.”
She took another peek. He’d stepped back a bit and was already drenched. He’d changed, too, into a pair of Levi’s and that leather jacket, and with the porch light glaring on his face, thrusting it into bold relief, she could see he had one hell of a shiner blooming along his right eye, and that that eye was no longer looking at her with heat and lust.
He’d been riding his bike.
He wasn’t alone, she saw now, but whoever was with him had their face averted.
In fact, it appeared that Kevin was gripping the back of that person’s jacket, holding them against their will.
What the hell?
She opened the door. Kevin was indeed holding on to the back of the person next to him, a small, thin teenage girl dressed in black from head to toe, with various studs and belts and chains. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“Nothing much,” he said, tightening his grip when the Goth girl tried to sidestep away. “Just catching snoopy intruders in my bedroom. Listen, next time you want to spy on me, do it yourself, all right? She’s just a damn kid.”
The “damn kid” raised her face, which was pale and streaked with anger, sullenness, and undeniable
Classy, too.
There was an outdoor basketball court at the end of the street, and beyond that a small green area and tiny park with a set of swings and a slide and a few benches. And beyond that, woods, lots and lots of woods.
She got out of her car, and her heart knocking against her ribs again, she knocked.
Thunder cracked, making her jerk. She knocked again.
But no one answered, and as the sun began to dip into the sky her aloneness settled into her gut, along with the realization that she had no money and nowhere else to go.
Inside her house, Mia let out a long breath and moved through the wide space. Her own haven. In her bedroom she removed all her protective layers—her Michael Kors, her Prada, her makeup—and when she was stripped bare, she showered.
And then, not looking at her missing eyebrow or the angry red welt/burn above it, she wrapped herself in her French silk robe and padded barefoot through the living room to stand in front of her huge picture windows. The storm had moved in and rain slashed down with a soothing sound.
Her hair fell straight and wet to her shoulders, dripping into the silk and cooling her still-heated skin. Beneath her robe, her body seemed different.
Anticipatory. Hopeful. Tight and achy.
It made no sense. She’d gotten off just last night. And as Kevin knew what he was doing in that department, she’d have thought the effects would last her a while.
And yet, truthfully, it wasn’t mindless sex she yearned for…
But familiarity. Someone who knew her. Someone to smile at her and tell her she was fine.
Since that was a discomforting thought, she moved to her liquor cabinet and poured herself a glass of wine, trying not to think about Kevin at home right now, possibly also fresh from a shower, stretched out naked on his bed, big and lean and gorgeous. Sipping her drink, she moved through her living room, enjoying the smooth, shiny hardwood floors beneath her feet, the lovely silence.
The doorbell rang, shattering that silence, making her jump and nearly spill her wine. Then, before she could recover or even react, a heavy knock followed.
“Coming,” she muttered and moved toward the door. On tiptoes, she put her eye to the peephole, then went still.
Kevin stood there, his face very close to the opening as he waved.
She looked down at herself. Silk robe and nothing else. Bare feet. Wet hair.
No makeup.
She wished she’d taken a shot of whiskey instead of the glass of wine she still held, because her body wanted to let him in. Everywhere. Luckily, her brain held back. Good, brain. “I’m a little busy,” she said through the door.
“This isn’t about you, Mia. Open up. It’s raining like a mother.”
She took another peek. He’d stepped back a bit and was already drenched. He’d changed, too, into a pair of Levi’s and that leather jacket, and with the porch light glaring on his face, thrusting it into bold relief, she could see he had one hell of a shiner blooming along his right eye, and that that eye was no longer looking at her with heat and lust.
He’d been riding his bike.
He wasn’t alone, she saw now, but whoever was with him had their face averted.
In fact, it appeared that Kevin was gripping the back of that person’s jacket, holding them against their will.
What the hell?
She opened the door. Kevin was indeed holding on to the back of the person next to him, a small, thin teenage girl dressed in black from head to toe, with various studs and belts and chains. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“Nothing much,” he said, tightening his grip when the Goth girl tried to sidestep away. “Just catching snoopy intruders in my bedroom. Listen, next time you want to spy on me, do it yourself, all right? She’s just a damn kid.”
The “damn kid” raised her face, which was pale and streaked with anger, sullenness, and undeniable
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