Her Perfect Man (12 page)

“Most of our friends will be here, and it would look very strange if you weren’t.”

Though she should have known better, Kim felt a wave of disappointment. Her parents only wanted her at this party so things wouldn’t look
strange
to their guests.

“We’ll have cocktails, then dinner. And people will be dressing.”

Kim rolled her eyes.
Dressing. Oh really? And here I planned to show up naked.

“Do you have anything appropriate to wear? I know you like those sloppy clothes and second hand items.”

“I have a few dresses, mother. I’m sure I can put together something.” She ground her teeth.

“Well, I can send you a few dollars if you need to buy something. Your father doesn’t have to know.”

Kim knew her mother was not motivated by generosity, but by fear that her younger daughter would show up in raggedy-ass jeans and a spandex tube top.

“I’ll be fine.” She bit off the words.

“Well, fine then. I’ll see you then. And Kimberly, remember your father’s colleagues will be there.

Please try to be on your best behavior.”

Sure, Mom. I’ll try not to pick my nose, burp, or scratch my ass in front of your fancy party guests.

Kim hung up without another word. She couldn’t speak because she shook with rage.

Only her parents could do that to her. Make her feel so angry and worthless. So helpless.

And because she knew how powerless she was to punish them for that, she focused on someone she could punish. Who lived right below her. Charlie.

But the minute she stood in his doorway and saw his face, her anger vanished. She didn’t want to fight, didn’t want Charlie to hate her. She felt beaten, exhausted, empty.

Before Charlie said a word, Kim told him “I didn’t have sex with Adam last night.”

Charlie’s eyebrows winged up and his breath caught. With relief?
Don’t go there, Kim.

“I didn’t know he was going to show up at my place. I felt sorry for him and let him in. Then he drank too much and I couldn’t let him drive home. I let him sleep on the futon. End of story.”

She waited as silence hung between them.

Charlie stared at her, blinking. Damn those blue eyes of his. “You didn’t sleep with him.”

He didn’t believe her? Her temper was a hair’s breadth from triggering. “I told you,
no
. And if my word’s not good enough or you, then—”

Charlie grabbed her forearm and pulled her through the doorway. “Get in here.” Before Kim could think, he smushed her against his chest and kissed her for all she was worth. His hungry lips sealed the words in her mouth.

She gripped his shoulders, loving the feel of them, so warm and strong. Lost in his kiss, the room tilted and she swayed when he let her go. Charlie looked pretty disoriented himself.

“I’m glad you told me.”

“Yeah, well…” She still felt wobbly.

“Listen Kim, we better have this out right now.

You and I have been
intimate
. Now, I don’t know how you feel about it, but I take that seriously. It means something to me.”

“Well, it means something to me, too.” Oh shit.

What had she just admitted to? “I mean—”

He held up his hand. “Take it easy. I’m not going down on one knee. I just mean…” He shook his head in frustration. “Hell, I’m not into sharing, all right?

So if you’re still hung up on this Vostek guy, say the word and I’ll back off. But if not, then…”

This was a tantalizing prospect. “Then what?”

He looked at her. “Then you’re with me. And Adam or whatever his name is can go to hell.”

She could have gone off on him then for getting so high-handed, trying to lay claim to her. As though she were a parcel of land or a piece of meat.

But in truth, his words gave her a secret shiver of delight. No man had ever wanted to stake a claim before, had ever wanted her to be
just his
. No man had ever cared enough.

Forget all the creeps and losers you knew before.

They’re history. You’re with me now.

“I’m not hung up on him,” she confessed, her voice soft. “I care about him, I guess, as a friend, but I’m not—”

Charlie snatched her close again and crushed his lips against hers. “I don’t want to hear about him,” he muttered when they came up for air. “Come on.” He lifted her into his arms and headed down the hall. In the living room, he stumbled into the sofa and Kim fell onto the cushions, laughing. “Hey, watch it.”

“Sorry. They make it look so easy in the movies.

Let’s try it this way.” He picked her up in a fireman’s carry, bent over his shoulder.

“Real romantic, Keller,” she complained as she jounced against him. “This is
not
how Rhett carried Scarlett.”

“I can’t help it. You’re too heavy.”

“Shut up.” She pinched him on the ass.

“Ouch.” He smacked her butt. “Quit that.”

When they reached the bedroom, he flipped her onto the mattress and followed her down, almost bouncing them both off the bed. They laughed and Kim peeled Charlie’s shirt up, laughing again when he momentarily got his head stuck. Once his head popped free, she tore at her own clothing then went to work on the zipper of his jeans.

He stilled her hands. “Wait. Wait a minute.

What’s the rush?”

He pulled back and moved off the bed to stand in front of her. “Let’s take it slow this time. I want to make it last. Savor it.”

Kim licked her lips, her heart thumping as he slowly unzipped his jeans. His gaze sent flames licking through her. He knew how much she enjoyed watching him. Before he let the jeans slide down his legs, he reached into his pocket, extracted a condom, and placed it on the nightstand with a little grin.

Leaving his pants and underwear on the floor, he slid back onto the bed and leaned toward Kim, pressed his lips softly to hers. Her heartbeat spiked as he reached behind her and unfastened her bra. It was a plain white one, a comfy weekend bra, and Kim now wished she’d worn something sexier. But she hadn’t dreamed before coming down here that he would be undressing her.

Charlie seemed to have no problem with her choice of undergarments. He drew off her bra in a leisurely fashion and gently cupped her bare breasts.

Kim stroked the velvety hardness of his cock and caressed the ripe plums of his balls. She touched him greedily, a little too eager.

“Slowly,” he told her. “Slowly.” He lay her back against the pillows and proceeded to kiss down her body—her neck, her shoulders, breasts, belly, thighs, knees, even the arches of her feet. She shivered as though the room were ice cold, even as a hot flush crept up her body. Charlie’s soft warm lips, now moving their way up, sent prickles of need racing through her.

He slipped off her panties, then picked up the packet, tore it open, and rolled the condom down his cock. He slid between her thighs and thrust into her.

Looking down at her, he smiled and those amazing blue eyes of his held her fast. She widened her thighs and sucked in her breath as he pushed in, stretching her, then withdrew. When he moved, she felt him not only between her legs, but through her entire body.

Kim’s chest constricted painfully as she blinked rapidly against the stupid tears stinging her eyes.

Her heart fluttered in fear. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. Sex was one thing. But the way he looked at her now…it was too intimate, too intense.

She wanted to leap off the bed and run away.

Charlie misunderstood the glitter in her eyes.

“Is it good?” His voice was constrained, guttural.

She nodded, her throat too thick to speak. Her hands gripped his arms, and her head fell back as he pumped inside her. She closed her eyes to hide from him. “I’m close.” His voice seemed to come from far away. “Come with me. Can you?”

She lowered her hand to gently massage her clit.

He pumped faster, his breathing rough, until he stiffened. He came hard, his muscles trembling and with a final whisk of her fingers, Kim came, too, her flesh rippling around him.

He collapsed on top of her, momentarily, then rolled to the side, kissing her cheek. Kim kept her eyes closed, pretending to drowse. It was safer.

She felt too exposed, and it had nothing to do with being nude. The only time she could remember feeling this vulnerable was back in high school, when she lost her virginity.

Now, with Charlie, she’d lost her virginity all over again.

****

Charlie padded out of the bedroom, and Kim followed shortly thereafter, making a pit stop in the bathroom. From there she wandered into his living room.

As he rustled around in the kitchen, she took advantage and checked out his place. For an art teacher, his décor was quite plain, the furniture square and functional. Brown upholstery, ecru walls, beige curtains. Inexpensive and ordinary.

And he was messy. Books and papers were scattered on the surfaces around the room along with abandoned cups and drinking glasses.

As she looked around, Kim discovered what Charlie spent his money on. Books.

Specifically, art books. Fat, heavy books that could break a toe if you were unlucky enough to drop one on your foot. Art of the Renaissance, Expressionism, Impressionism, Modern Art. She knew the big names—Michelangelo, Van Gogh, Picasso. Others she didn’t recognize.

“How about a beer?” Charlie called.

“Sure.”

“From the bottle okay? I can’t seem to find any glasses.”

Kim gave a snort. “That’s cause they’re all in here.”

She collected five dirty drinking vessels and gave them to him as he handed her the beer. “I didn’t know you were such a slob.”

“It’s an organized mess.”

“Yeah, whatever. Hey.” She lifted a book she’d uncovered from the jumble. “Who’s this?”

“Grant Wood. You know him.” Charlie disappeared into the kitchen and called back, “
American Gothic
.”

“Huh?”

He came back with a broom in one hand.

“
American Gothic
.” He turned the broom upside down. “Pretend it’s a pitchfork.” Then he posed, going stiff, making his mouth a thin line.

Kim laughed. “Oh, I get it. Okay. The farmer and his wife.” She flipped through the pages. “Here it is.”

Charlie broke the pose. “They were supposed to be father and daughter. But the models were actually the artist’s sister and his dentist.”

As he returned to the kitchen, Kim spotted another empty cup on the coffee table. “Oh, you forgot one.” Near the cup were a large drawing pad and several pencils. “Hey, you draw?”

She touched the pad, her fingers itching to flip through the pages. But without his permission, it didn’t seem right to look. It would be like peeking through someone’s dresser drawers. Not that she was above doing that.

Charlie reappeared in a wink. “I forgot I left that out.” He picked up the pad, but Kim still held one of its corners.

She gave him her best puppy eyes. “Can I see?

Please?”

He shook his head, firmly drawing the pad out of her grasp. “Nope. Sorry.”

“Aww…”

“You’re not missing anything, trust me. I don’t draw, I just doodle.”

“I read in the paper the Community Center’s having an Art Show next month. You should enter something.”

“You don’t even know if I’m any good.”

“Well, show me, then,” Kim said, being sneaky.

“I’ll tell you what I think.”

“Ha. Nice try.” He whisked the tablet away, probably to hide it somewhere. She folded her arms over her chest.

“Fine. Be that way.”

She wandered to the shelf along the wall. More books, including biographies and recent bestsellers.

At the end of one shelf sat a small framed photograph. Kim picked it up. She spotted Charlie, though he looked a lot younger in the photo, posed with an older couple and another man who looked to be in his twenties. There was no mistaking the resemblance between the two younger men.

“My brother Kevin.”

Charlie’s sudden reappearance so startled her, she almost dropped the picture. “And my parents. And me, of course.”

“Yeah, I—” Flustered that he’d caught her snooping, she set the photograph back in its place.

“Hey, where’s your pitchfork?” she joked, to cover her embarrassment.

“Had to put it back in the barn.” He clinked his beer bottle to hers. “To us.”

Her cheeks heated at the toast. Were they an us
? She looked away. “Cheers.”

They seated themselves on the sofa while they drank, but the silence suddenly became too intimate for Kim. She fumbled for something to say. “Is your brother a teacher, too?”

Charlie hesitated, licked his lips and took a swallow of his beer. Kim’s stomach turned over.

Without meaning to, she’d stepped in it. Quickly she tried to backpedal. “I, uh, I mean if it’s not something—”

“Kev died three years ago of a drug overdose.”

Kim’s mouth went dry and her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Charlie. Oh, shit.” She wished she could bite off her tongue. “I’m sorry. My stupid mouth. I mean—”

“No, you’re right,” he said quietly. “You’re absolutely right. It is shitty. He was only thirty-three years old.”

“I am so sorry.”

“Yeah, me, too. I miss him like hell. Do you think that’s strange? I mean, he’s been gone three years.”

“What’s that got to do with it? He was your brother. Your older brother, right?”

“Yeah, eight years older than me. When I was little, I idolized him. He was awesome—handsome, funny, smart as hell. So smart. He could’ve done anything, accomplished anything—if it weren’t for the drugs. They changed him.”

Kim’s heart thumped anxiously. She so wanted to comfort Charlie, to say or do something to ease his sadness. She slid closer to him on the sofa and placed her hand in his.

He squeezed her hand, and the breath whooshed out of him. “I say he died, but in a way, he killed himself. It just took a long time for him to do it. He got involved when he was fourteen, and after that it all went to hell.”

When Kevin was fourteen, Charlie would have been six. He would have seen the big brother he so admired turn into an addict. That must have made a huge impression on him.