Girl Gear 5: Wicked Games (21 page)

"Maybe he doesn't know why," Poe suggested, waving Kinsey toward the bedroom's vanity dresser.

Kinsey settled onto the padded bench while Poe pulled up the room's desk chair before returning to the bed for the train case. "I'm beginning to wonder if he does. Whatever it is, he's a master at avoidance and denial."

"Most men are."

"And then there's the way he manages to change the subject so fast and so seamlessly that
it's
thirty minutes later before I even realize we're talking about something totally inconsequential."

"Don't let it happen tonight. Tonight, you're in charge."

"Well, that sounds good in theory."

"And it works in practice. Once we have you ready to go, you won't forget. That's why we're here, remember. This costuming session is all about making sure Doug doesn't know what hit him."

"So, what did you bring me to wear?"

"I only picked out two outfits. We seem to be about the same size, and I have both of these left from shoots I did months ago." Walking back to the closet, Poe pulled out garments on hangers, holding the first outfit in one hand, the second in the other. She cocked her head to one side, then the other. "Think back to junior high, since that is tonight's theme."

"I'd rather not," Kinsey said, though her interest was definitely piqued.

"Exactly. Now, what I do with your face and your hair will depend on your image, so…"

She offered one outfit first. "Do you want to be every guy's girl?" And then she offered the second. "Or do you want to be an unattainable, off-limits adolescent fantasy?"

Kinsey felt her face break into a grin. "Oh, Poe. How perfectly, wickedly clever of you. The adolescent fantasy, definitely. Doug won't be able to resist."

"My point exactly. What are men if not overgrown adolescents?"

Chapter 10

«
^
»

D
oug stood behind the curved bar in Anton and Lauren's spacious living room, the main room of their home seeming even larger due to the ceiling that reached to the second floor.

Anton had bought the warehouse in the Heights near downtown
Houston
and converted it into a showplace that had Doug envying both the living space and his partner's awesome artistic vision.

Not a lot of the architects he'd known and worked with could've imagined and pulled off such a conversion feat. The fact that he and Anton shared such a talent meant that Neville and
Storey's
reputation was beginning to reach beyond
Texas
's borders.

And that was the very reason the Warren Sill Group had come calling.

Doug stared down into his drink, swirled the slivers of ice around in the aged Scotch. He had to admit he enjoyed being wooed and wanted. He equated the experience to a major league scout finding a player on a neighborhood sandlot. The kid's life would never be the same, and he'd been doing the very thing he most loved.

Doug loved what he did at Neville and Storey, loved his client base, took pride in his completed projects,
anticipated
future ones. He would never have gone looking for a major league scout, but the scout had come looking for him. So here he was.

It was a damn heady feeling, being wanted by the big boys. And it went a long way to feeding an ego that had been busted now for quite a few years.

Oh, sure. He'd had his successes; he'd built his name. He'd gone on with the plans he'd made with Anton even after his plans with Gwen had hit the skids in a very big way.

Did he still have feelings for her? Hell, no. He was long over that resentment. Especially seeing how happy his brother was. And now the couple was expecting their first child. He was going to be Uncle Doug … instead of being Daddy.

And that was what was getting to him, getting to him in ways he never would've expected. Especially now that Kinsey had entered the picture, tempting him in ways that made the associates at Warren Sill
look
like amateurs.

When the hell had he become so dissatisfied with his life and, more importantly, why? There was absolutely no reason he could come up with for his restlessness of late. And it was driving him crazy, this need to always want more, the looking ahead, his inability to find the sense of accomplishment he'd once known in the here and now.

"Dude, you've been staring at your drink now for five minutes. You got a thing for watching ice melt?"

At Anton's jibe, Doug lifted his glass and drained it of Scotch. "That better?"

"Depending on whether or not
you're wanting
a refill or if you want to be able to drive home."

"A refill, definitely. Are you kidding? How many of Macy's
gAME
nights have you made it through sober?"

"I heard that," Macy said, walking by in bare feet and blue jeans, a lingerie top that sure didn't do anything for her flat chest, and her hair wound into dread-locks.

"Hey, Macy. Nice tattoo," Doug said, nodding toward the intricate red-brown patterns decorating her feet.

"It's a
Mehndi
design, not a tattoo."

"Uh-huh," Anton said, echoing Doug's own
cluelessness
.

Macy rolled her eyes. "It's not permanent." She held out her hands, the backs of which were similarly stained with dots and swirls. "See? It's done with henna." She turned them this way and that. "It's a compromise."

"Compromise?" Doug asked.

"Leo said no more permanent ink," she said then headed toward the front door with her party invitations in hand.

Doug just shook his head. "Leo's a braver man than I am."

"Get real, Doug. Leo knows what counts." Anton returned the crystal stopper to the decanter of Scotch. "You got a woman you want, you compromise."

Doug glanced toward the door, wondering what the hell was taking Kinsey so long. He hadn't seen her since the night in his shower when she'd told him she loved him. That hadn't even been a week ago, yet it seemed like forever.

The thought of Kinsey loving him had his gut clenching like a fist around a golf club grip. The thought of the compromises he'd have to make to keep her… "I thought it was Macy doing the compromising."

"Macy gave up the permanence. Leo gave in to the ink." Anton grabbed
another bottled
ale from the bar's
minifridge
. "You're going to need some serious relationship instruction if you decide to pursue this thing with Kinsey."

"What thing with Kinsey?"

"Oh, man. Your problem's bigger than I thought." Anton laughed, shaking his head. "What thing with Kinsey, my ass. Last I heard, the two of you were only having dinner, and now Lauren can't shut up about what a great couple you two are going to make."

Doug huffed, hoping the other man wasn't picking up on the fear that he didn't know shit about being part of a couple. He ran a hand over his forehead to wipe away the sweat. "I don't do long distance. You know that."

Anton turned to face him and stared until Doug acknowledged that his partner wasn't going to go away, even after Doug had flipped him the bird and told him to bug off. God, but he did not want to hear another rendition of Anton's "Gwen" lecture.

But Anton being Anton, Doug's threat didn't do a bit of good. "Man, you have got to get over this idea that you screwed up. You and Gwen were kids. You left home. You grew up. You followed through on your goals, and she didn't stick around to see you through it."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

Anton lowered his bottle after swallowing a quarter of the contents. "Doug, don't be an ass. You think if you'd stayed and gone to school in
Abilene
you would've had half the success you've had so far?"

Doug blew out a snort. "Is that what it's all about? Success?"

"You tell me. You're the one climbing the ladder, straight out of our partnership."

That pissed Doug off. "So this conversation isn't about Kinsey or Gwen at all, is it? It's about the business and my bailing."

But Anton's attention had been drawn to the foyer and the front door. "Well, dude. It would be if we had time. But your number just came up."

It didn't take but one jab of Anton's elbow for Doug to turn. Holy sweet poker chips, but he was going to stroke out where he stood if his pulse was any indication. And damn if he hadn't drained his second drink way too soon.

Kinsey stood at the edge of the room looking like the naive
ingenue
every depraved teen
horndog
he'd ever known would've given a left nut to debauch.

She wore penny loafers and
kneesocks
, white ones to match her plain white button-down uniform top. Beneath that she wore a pleated green-and-blue-plaid schoolgirl skirt.

But the skirt was a length no schoolgirl would have ever been allowed to wear. Goddamn, but she had legs. And the blouse… Sweet mother, her tits were about to burst the buttons free from their holes.

He finally managed to make his way from her body to her face, and that was when he was done for, done in, done to a crackly, unsalvageable crunch.

She wore tiny barrettes just above her temples. They held her long blond hair off her face. And, oh, her face.

He knew nothing about makeup except to know it looked as if she wasn't wearing any. But she had to be. He'd seen her at the office; he'd seen her in bed.

And he'd never seen her looking like purity embodied, like her innocence was the only thing with the power to save him from himself. He turned back to the bottle of Scotch before his heart completely tore a hole in his chest. He splashed another ounce over ice with a shaking hand and lifted the glass.

That was when he stopped. Swallowing wasn't going to be happening with his throat closed up this tight.

Having her tell him that she loved him had been bad enough.

But knowing that he loved her?

He would never be the same again.

* * *

Kinsey glanced down at the sheet of lined notebook paper on which Macy's party invitation had been scrawled, and laughed.

It looked exactly like a note she would've passed to a friend during geometry. And the wording… "My parents are gone for the weekend! Let's party!!!" Oh, yeah. Macy knew her stuff when it came to party planning. She went all out with every one of her thematic concepts.

The
gAME
night itinerary had Kinsey chuckling more—Spin the Bottle, Chase and Tackle, the Dirty Closet Thirty. Truth or Dare. Oh, yeah. Junior high revisited. And then there
was
the Bangles, Culture Club, Foreigner and Wham music mix blaring through the
Nevilles
' sound system.

This was going to be such a blast.

Or as much of a blast as she could manage feeling so out of her element in Poe's schoolgirl uniform. The rest of the party-goers could have easily been groupies in a Jon Bon
Jovi
or Madonna music video.

Junior high had been Kinsey's first exposure to cliques and popularity and the always imperative need to stand out while fitting in. She'd grown up and attended school with the same core group of friends—the ones whose parents hadn't been displaced by the bottoming out of
Houston
's oil industry.

The name Kinsey Gray had been on rosters for the drill team and the cheerleading squad and the student council, as well as on the list of officers for both academic and social clubs.

Playing the part of an innocent was going to be a stretch of her acting ability. Especially since she already felt the intensity of Doug's gaze as he stared from the bar on the far side of the room.

Still, she gave it a shot, rubbing the toe of one shoe over her sock-clad calf, and catching the tip of her tongue between her teeth while she glanced around the room from beneath lowered lashes.

After being handed Macy's invitation, Poe had abandoned Kinsey in the foyer entrance and headed into the heart of the party wearing the second, more traditional junior high era outfit:
snazzily
buckled and zippered jeans along with a sparkly,
spangly
skin-hugging top. She'd even managed to work with hot rollers and mousse to give
herself
big hair.

Kinsey couldn't help but grin as she studied her fashion coordinator. Standing at the French doors to the patio next to a similarly dressed
Sydney
, Poe looked as out of place as Kinsey felt. Interesting contrast, that.

"Ooh, girl. If you don't look like the epitome of my adolescence," Izzy said with a laugh. She gave Kinsey a head-to-toe once-over before going on, lips pursed, head shaking. "I take that back. You look like what I would've given a million bucks to have looked like back then."

Kinsey laughed in turn. "Wouldn't you just die to live those years again knowing what we know now?"

"Are you kidding? Knowing what I know now I would never go back."

"Well, I think it would be a blast," Lauren said, joining the conversation. She reached out and tugged on Kinsey's buttoned placket. "The boobs are what I wish I'd had. The girls with boobs were invited to all the parties."