Her Perfect Man (5 page)

“Here.” She pressed the bag carefully to his nose. “Like this. So it doesn’t swell.”

“Mmmphh.” All she could see were his eyes as the rest of his face was hidden. “It’s cold.” His voice was muffled by the bag.

She smiled. “Ya think?” God, his eyes were so blue
. Suddenly Kim became aware of his hand on her back and the hard thighs underneath her.
Oh my God
.
I’m on his lap!

But she didn’t jump off as Groucho had. No, instead, she moved closer, and as she shifted on his lap, something else shifted under her bottom.

Charlie’s eyes narrowed and sparked. Those sparks ignited a flame in Kim, and heat flickered through her, concentrating in her lips, breasts, and pussy.

Slowly, still gazing into his eyes, Kim removed the bag from his face and dropped it on the floor then leaned in and pressed her lips to his wide, mobile mouth. She pulled away for a moment, took note of the surprise in his face, then wiggled closer, crushing her breasts against his chest. Stealing his lips once more and trying to slip her tongue between them, she bumped her nose against his.

Charlie winced.

Kim quickly jerked away. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” He pulled her to him again, his hand warm on her back through the top she wore, his other hand on her hip. This time she was not kissing him. They were kissing each other.

Their lips clung together, and their tongues played and teased. She moaned as his cock hardened under her. Charlie wanted her. It felt so good to be wanted, after her horrible day, after being dumped by Adam.

Charlie wanted her and she wanted him, too.

She flung one arm around his neck while her other hand skated over his cotton polo shirt. Heat zinged through her as she felt his solid chest. He was no Adam Vostek, but neither was Charlie a ninety-eight pound weakling. Her fingers edged down to the waistband of his jeans, and he sucked in his breath, trying to stay her hand.

But she was too quick for him. Maybe not bold enough just yet to unzip him but certainly eager to slip her hand beneath the shirt and feel the warmth and hardness of his chest. Her mouth moved from his lips to his cheek down to his jaw and then his neck.

He grabbed her hand, pulled back. “Kim. We have to stop.”

Stop? Why? She didn’t want to stop.

“No.” She buried her face in the crook of his neck, licked his skin. He tasted soapy and salty. She tried to free the hand caught under his shirt. “Take this off.”

“No.” He pried her off his lap, though she clung like a burr. Gently but firmly, he pushed her onto the futon. “Be good.”

“What?” She blinked at him. “Why?”

“Kim, you’re drunk.”

“No, I’m not,” she lied. She wanted to be touched, she wanted to come, she wanted to feel good
, for God’s sake. Was that so fucking terrible?

“Come on. It’ll be nice.”

Charlie sighed and closed his eyes, and Kim took shameful advantage. She leaned in to stroke the bulge distending the front of his pants. But as soon as she touched him, his hand shot out and grabbed hers. Hard. “Stop.”

“Ow. You’re
hurting
.” Not really, but she made her voice so pathetic that Charlie instantly released her hand.

As he did, he pushed himself out of his chair.

His mouth twisted in pained amusement. “Damn right, I’m hurting.”

Kim smirked.
Haha
. She was right. He
did
want her. Slowly, keeping her eyes pinned on him all the while, she pulled her stretchy black knit top over her head and dropped it beside her. Though small enough to go braless, tonight she’d chosen to wear a black lace demi-bra, and she was glad. It looked more seductive.

Charlie’s ocean-blue gaze drifted down her torso, lingering on the bra. Kim’s nipples peaked in acknowledgment of his appreciation. But the thing that truly turned her on was that his gaze lingered even longer on her face.

Her heart thumped as her tongue flicked the corner of her mouth. “You like?”

A heartbeat. Then, “Gotta go.”

“What? No!” Kim jumped up from the futon.

“Wait a minute.”

He was already at the door. “Good night, Kim.”

“Hold on.” She went for the hard sell, fumbling to unhook the back of her bra, but by the time she succeeded the door had firmly closed.

“Shit.” She ran to the door and pulled it open, the bra now dangling from her arms by its straps.

“Chicken!” He was already down the steps. She gave the door a resounding slam. “Fuck!”

Kim cursed herself as she remembered Mrs.

Fogle in the next apartment. But hopefully without her hearing aids the neighbor slept on undisturbed.

Kim tore off the bra and threw it to the floor. By the time she slumped onto the futon, her anger had turned to humiliation. Shit, she’d thrown herself at the man. Chased him to the door, for God’s sake, tearing off her clothes. Didn’t she have any pride, any self-respect whatsoever?

She felt the familiar ache in her eyes, the pressure, the burn of tears. Everything she’d held back all day. She finally had her cry.

Oh God, her head hurt. She had a brain tumor, for sure. Or one of those whatta-you-call aneurysms.

Yeah, she’d die of a stroke and they’d find her months from now, here in bed, mummified. If the cat didn’t eat her first.

Kim groaned in pain, and even that hurt. A heavy weight settled on her chest. Oh, no. A heart attack. She was dying of a heart attack
and
a brain tumor.
Please God take me now. Just stop the suffering.

She waited for the strumming of harp strings or a celestial angel’s chorus, but instead heard something else. And it wasn’t the voice of God. A yowl of complaint sounded above her. She unglued her sticky eyelids. Groucho sat on her chest and glared down at her.

Nope, not a heart attack. Just a fat cat whose expression said,
Where’s my breakfast?

“Oh, get off.” She shoved him away. “Can’t you see I’m dying? Have some sympathy.”

The cat tumbled to the mattress but was not deterred. He swatted her on the cheek with his paw.

Then he did it again.
Feed me first. Then you can die.

“Oh, all right.” She edged her legs off the bed and levered herself, moaning and complaining the whole time. She made a pit stop to the bathroom first, to swallow a couple of Tylenol with a mouthful of water. Good thing she was close to the toilet, because the pills came right up along with the rest of last night’s binge.

“Ugh,” she moaned, on her knees at the porcelain throne, hugging it like it was her new BFF. She felt a little better, though, post-vomit. If only she could empty her brain of memories as easily as she’d emptied her stomach.

A few minutes later, while Groucho stared from the doorway, Kim took two more Tylenol and kept them down. She crawled—literally—to the kitchen and poured some crunchies into the cat’s bowl.

Thank God, he ate kibble. She’d have hurled again if she had to face something that came in a can.

She pulled herself up to the counter and took the bag of broccoli out of the freezer. She’d tossed it back in there last night, before turning in, and thank God she had. Charlie might be too proud to wear frozen vegetables on his face, but she wasn’t.

She whacked the bag on the counter a few times to break it up then stumbled to the futon, where she fell in a sprawl.

Kim lost track of time, lying there with the bag of broccoli on her forehead. At some point, her cell phone rang. She groaned and fumbled for it on the coffee table. “Yeah…”

“Kim.” It was Tommy. “Hey, you tied one on pretty good last night. How’re you feeling?”

“Crappy. I’m never drinking again.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“Well, at least I’m not getting drunk ever again.

I’m too old for this.”

“I take it Charlie got you home just fine.”

Kim’s mouth twisted with embarrassment. “Oh, yeah. He was a perfect gentleman.”

Tommy missed the sour note in her voice. “Well, that’s good. Listen, has Lynnette seemed a little…I don’t know, secretive, lately?”

Kim was in no frame of mind to ponder Lynnette and her moods. “Oh, you know how she gets, Tom.”

“Yeah.” He sounded morose. “I think something’s going on, though.”

“You worry too much.”

They said their goodbyes, and Kim sat up gingerly, dislodging Groucho, who had curled up on her stomach. Physically, she felt better. Her headache had subsided to a dull throb, and her stomach had settled. But now there was nothing to distract her from the humiliating memories of last night.

God. What an ass she’d made of herself.

Drunken floozy almost breaks a guy’s nose, hits on him, then can’t take no for an answer. No wonder Charlie left as fast as he did. Shit, he was probably scared she was about to rape him.

Kim went to the kitchen and made herself some coffee. The saggy, room temperature broccoli bag got tossed into the trash.

What the hell happened to her last night? She’d come on to guys before, sure, but she’d never chased them down. Like a cheetah going after an antelope, or whatever the hell cheetahs went after. Okay, she’d been drunk, but Kim knew it was more than just the alcohol.

Adam’s rejection had hit her hard. Though giving him a sub sandwich beat-down momentarily soothed the sting, she couldn’t deny the fact that she was the dumpee, not the dumper.

Last night Charlie wanted her, and that had felt so good. She could still make a guy hot and hard.

Validation that she wasn’t a complete loser.

Her cell phone rang again and she hurried to pick up. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Lynnette said. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. What’s up with you? What happened last night? You were having fun and then—”

“Oh, it…well, I had plans to hook up with somebody last night, but he bailed on me. It ticked me off. That’s all.”

“So when you made that call—”

“I was trying to get hold of my man. But he never answered his fucking phone.”

“Your man.”

“
What
?” Lynnette’s tone was belligerent.

“Nothing. I just didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”

“Well, I am.” A pause. “If I tell you something do you
swear
to keep it to yourself?”

Uh-oh.
But God knew she had confided in Lynnette more times than she could count. Wasn’t that what friends were for? “Yeah. I’ll keep my mouth shut. What is it?”

“Well, I’ve been seeing this guy. He’s just awesome. I mean, he’s got it all. Looks, great job.

When we go out to eat, it’s not some cheap little dump, you know? It’s a really nice restaurant, with waiters and everything. And he’s un-fucking-believable in bed.”

“Sounds great,” Kim said, knowing any minute the other shoe would drop.
Wait for it
…

“Yeah,” Lynnette sighed. “It is. He is. Except there’s one problem.”

Yep, how’d I know?
“Yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s married.”

“Oh, shit. Come on, Lynnette.”

“
What?
Look, they’re separated.”

“You know that for sure, or is that what he
told you?”

“Why are you so fucking suspicious, huh? I’m telling you, his wife’s out of the picture. We’ve been dating a couple months now.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. ” Lynnette mocked Kim’s deadpan tone.

“Geez, could you try sounding happy for me? He’s a great guy, he’s terrific with T.J.—”

“You’ve brought him around T.J.?”

“What’s wrong with that? I want him to get to

know my son.”

Kim stroked the cat, who’d hopped back onto the futon. “All I’m saying is T.J. could get hurt if he gets attached to this guy and things don’t work out.”

“Why the hell shouldn’t they work out? Christ, Kim, do you have to be such a downer?”

“I don’t want either one of you to get hurt. Look, these guys hardly ever leave their wives.”

“Says who?” Lynnette asked defiantly. “You’re a hell of a one to be doling out advice, considering your track record.”

Kim’s temper spiked. She sat up so abruptly she startled the cat. “Yeah, my record sucks. But at least I never hooked up with a married dude.”

“Oh, and that makes you so special you can tell me how to raise
my
kid. When you never even
had yours.”

Kim blinked and stared at the phone, her mind blank with shock. Had Lynnette— her friend? —really said that? After disbelief came rage, so much rage it nearly choked her. Unable to speak, she shut the phone without another word.

She fought the overwhelming impulse to throw it across the room. But she couldn’t afford to replace a broken cell phone. She had to satisfy herself with smacking it down on the coffee table.

Kim was enraged by her friend and disgusted with herself. Why did she put up with Lynnette’s bullshit? One minute the girl was her bestie, the next minute she clawed at Kim like an outraged cat.

Since Lynnette knew her so well, she’d zero in on Kim’s sore spots with uncanny accuracy.

And she’d delivered the ultimate low blow only moments ago.

So why hang on to a friendship that was still stuck in high school? Maybe that was the very reason. She and Lynnette went back so far.

Hell, maybe the girl had a point. What right did

Kim have giving anyone advice? Her life was no success story.

And she had no one to blame but her own damn self.

****

After a shower, Kim felt almost human. By then it was nearly two o’clock and to her surprise, she felt hungry. While she rummaged around in her cupboard, someone knocked at her door.

Crap. She hoped it wasn’t Tommy come to quiz her more about Lynnette, or worse yet, Lynnette herself wanting to get in her face. Kim needed a break from all the drama.

She stomped to the door in her bare feet and peered through the peephole. She let out a groan of disgust. Shit, shit, shit.

It was Charlie. She knew she’d have to face him at some point, but did it have to be now? She looked like hell, in a worn old camisole and yoga pants, her hair damp and stringy from the shower.