Her Perfect Man (21 page)

Her comfy, ratty old robe hung on a hook at the back of the door. He helped her into it and tied it snugly around her middle.

What happened now? She wanted him to stay. “I still have that wine. From the night of the Art Show.

Do you want some?”

“Yeah. That’d be good. Thanks.”

He moved to the futon in the living room while she fetched the bottle in the kitchen. Groucho padded in from somewhere, hopped to his favorite seat on the armchair, and gazed at them as if he expected some wine, too.

“Hold on.” Kim returned to the kitchen and came back with a corkscrew. With a smile, she handed it to Charlie.

“That’s new,” he remarked.

“Yeah. It’s not the only new thing around here.”

Charlie scanned the room as though trying to spot what else she might be talking about. He uncorked the wine and poured them each a glass, then patted his lap. Kim gladly took him up on the invitation and settled against him. He handed her a glass, took his own. He startled her by tossing his drink down his throat before she took her first sip.

“Kim.”

“Uh-huh?” She snuggled into him.

“I pushed your mother into the pool.”

“I know.”

He went still. “You’re not upset?”

“No. You stood up for me.”

But Charlie shook his head as though he couldn’t quite believe her. “When I saw you fall in, I just…and the way she just stood there, like she had nothing to do with it.” He poured himself another drink and gulped it down. “I lost it.”

“It’s all right.” She straightened up and gazed at him. “You’re my hero.”

He snorted. “Some hero.”

“Really,” she insisted. “You stood up for me. The only one who ever has.”

“I can’t stand bullies. I see too many of them at school.”

“Well, I hope you don’t push
them
into pools.”

“No.” He cracked a grin. “Though a few of them could use a good dunking.” Placing his glass on the coffee table, he settled both arms firmly around her.

“You know all that crap your mother said, that has nothing to do with you. That’s all her.”

“Yeah. I’ve finally figured that out.”

“Bullies always try to boost themselves by picking on someone else. Your mother’s a sad, pathetic soul. A pitiful drunk.” He paused. “Who I pushed into the pool.” He paused again. His forehead crinkled in puzzlement. “And I’m not sorry.”

His expression couldn’t hide his inner struggle.

What he’d done was completely out of character, yet he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. “I lost control.”

Kim thought about Charlie’s description of her mother. Not a monster. Not the Wicked Witch of the West. Nothing more than a sad and lonely drunk. So humiliated by her husband’s lack of interest, she needed a scapegoat.

Kim gazed at Charlie. He’d helped her so much, and now it was her turn to help him. “You lost control, big deal. You didn’t shoot up a building or drive off a cliff. Don’t beat yourself up about it.” She turned his face in her direction. “You don’t always have to be in control, you know. You don’t have to be perfect. Especially not with me. Just be Charlie.”

She drilled him in the chest with her index finger. “I happen to know he’s a real good guy.”

Those gorgeous blue eyes of his lit up as he took her finger, her whole hand, and held it. “You’re an incredible woman, Kim.”

She drew back her head in surprise. “I think
you must be drunk.”

“You survived that household and became a beautiful person with a big heart. You care about your friends, kids, even straggly street cats.” They both glanced at Groucho, snoring in the armchair.

“And you’d never do to anyone what your mother did to you this evening.”

Kim was speechless with amazement. All she could come up with was “Wow.” He’d just given her the most amazing compliment she had ever received.

And she didn’t know how to handle it. She was too used to disparagement—if not from others, then certainly from herself.

Charlie pulled her closer. “Can you ever forgive me?” “Huh?”

“I’m a sanctimonious, self-righteous prig. And an arrogant, condescending, all-around pain in the ass.” “Whoa, hold on a minute.” At last Kim found herself capable of coherent speech. “Hold on. You lost me. First of all, I don’t understand what half those words mean—”

“Stop that,” he growled. “Stop pretending you’re stupid.”

“Secondly, I don’t get where this is all coming from.”

“It’s coming from me being an idiot. Thinking I had any right to tell you how to fix your life. That your life needs fixing. Who am I to tell you anything
?”

You’re the man I love.

Whoa. Where had
that
come from? She hadn’t said it out loud, had she?

No, because Charlie was still berating himself, not staring at her like she’d lost her damn mind.

“You’re my friend. Everything you told me was the truth. I knew it, too. That’s why I went off on you the night I was supposed to make dinner.” Kim gulped her wine, needing the extra bit of courage it provided. “I needed to hear it, all right? So don’t back down now. You cared enough to give me the kick in the ass I needed. Hold on. Where’s my purse?

I want to show you something.”

The purse had been tossed on her bed before she undressed. She took out her wallet and brought it back to Charlie, plunking beside him on the futon.

“Here.” She flipped the wallet open to show him a card.

He looked at it, then at her. “A college I.D.”

“Yep. Just community college, but I’ve got to start somewhere, right?”

“Kim. That’s awesome.”

“I know I messed up twice before, but this time I’m sticking with it. I’m not doing it to please somebody else. This time it’s strictly for me.” She set the wallet aside. “I’m going to put in more hours at the coffee-shop to help pay the tuition.”

She’d been more serious about her job lately and Jodie—the manager formerly known as Snotface—had taken notice. She might not love working at Cool Beans, but she needed the income if she was going back to school. No more hopping from job to job.

Another milestone on her path to maturity.

Jesus. She’d better watch herself. She was in danger of becoming sickeningly responsible.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she told him, her voice soft.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah, you did. You pissed me off. You challenged me. You told me the truth and made me look at myself for real. I
was
scared to change my life. You were the only one who thought I could. You had faith in me.”

She leaned against his shoulder. “Time for me to grow up, you know? I’m tired of living my life just to piss off my parents. Sick of being jealous of my sister. I just want to live my own life and be happy.”

He took her hand and kissed it. “Do you think you could be happy with a self-righteous know-it-all?” Her breath caught. What was he saying? But her excitement was quickly undercut by suspicion.

“Are you saying that because you feel sorry for the poor girl from the dysfunctional family?”

“Listen, I wanted you long before I met your family. Ever since that crazy cat of yours got stuck in the tree.”

Doubt flitted across her mind. “But the night of the Art Show you said—”

“Kim. I was scared. I’d fallen for you, and I just didn’t want to get hurt.”

He’d fallen for her
. That meant more than
I want you
. A lot more.

“Wow. I should fall into pools more often.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, you’re here with me, telling me you’ve fallen for me, and I’m in love with you—”

“Wait. Hold on. Did you just say you’re in love with me?”

“Yes, I did.” Her heart felt as if it were filled with helium.

He pulled her close for a kiss, and Kim melted against him.

When at last they pulled apart, she spoke. “So yeah, I can be happy with a—what’d you say? A self-righteous know-it-all? Could you be happy with a bitchy, self-centered brat?”

“Just give me a chance,” Charlie told her. “You know how I love a challenge.”

About the Author

became hooked on romances when

she first picked up "The Flame and the Flower" by Kathleen Woodiwiss (and she's not telling how long ago that was). Romances may have changed since then, but her love for a good love story has not. She's been writing off and on for years, but it was only when she joined the Central New York Romance Writers Association that she finally gained the support and confidence she needed to complete a manuscript.

Nona lives in upstate New York with her many pets and is currently working on her next novel. A former librarian, she enjoys reading books of all genres and discussing them with others. She is thrilled to finally be able to call herself an author.

Visit Nona at

www.nonaraines.com

To chat with and other Wild Rose Press authors of erotic romance, join us at www.groups.yahoo.com/group/thewilderroses.

Also Available

Take This Man

by

The biggest mistake of Elyse Zemanski's life was falling in love with Adam. When a night of sexual fantasy went too far, she was crushed and couldn't leave town fast enough.

The biggest mistake of Adam Vostek's life was letting Elyse go. He'd been afraid of the love she promised and pushed her away—into another man's arms...and bed.

When Elyse returns to Summit to help a friend, Adam wants a second chance to prove he’s worthy—in and out of the bedroom. She claims she's over him, but one look from those smoldering dark eyes, and she throws caution to the wind. Elyse offers him seven days of wild sex, hoping to get him out of her system. Adam's good to go on the sex. But will a week be enough to win back Elyse's love and trust?

She felt the bed shift as he eased out of it, nude, and padded across the room. Elyse turned to her side, watching through her lashes as he picked up the clothing he’d draped over a chair and slipped into the bathroom. She closed her eyes for a moment, listening to the water run. Then she slid from beneath the sheet.

Once her feet hit the floor, Elyse gathered her own garments, scattered around the cheap carpet of the motel room—panties, short flirty skirt, and glittery top. When she put them on last night, she thought they were sexy. Now they looked sleazy. She wriggled into them and looked for her shoes. No hose. Since it was summer, she’d gone bare legged.

She scanned the floor for her gold strappy sandals with the high heels. Fuck-me shoes. Right.

One lay near the dresser, but Elyse couldn’t locate the other. Screw it. If she had to, she’d go barefoot.

She needed to get out of here.

She crept to the bathroom door in her bare feet, and softly knocked. Opening the door, she noted the grungy tiles on the wall and the faded shower curtain. Jason stood at the sink, toweling the water off his face. His pants were on, his chest bare.

Earlier that evening, Elyse had been struck by his movie-star good looks—the dark wavy hair, square jaw, and intensely blue eyes. Even now, after all their sexual hi-jinx, he looked like he’d just stepped off the cover of GQ.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and winced. Unlike Jason, she was a mess. Her blonde hair was a rat’s nest, her makeup so smeared she resembled a ghoul.

Jason’s eyes were still sleepy. “Need to use it?”

“No. I—can you give me a ride home?”

The sleepy blue eyes widened a bit in surprise.

“You’re leaving now?”

“Yes, can you take me? Please?” She hated adding that please, hated how needy it sounded.

“All right.” He draped the towel over his shoulder. “Sure.”

“Thanks.” Her throat was tight, her eyes stung.

“I’ll wait for you outside.”

She longed to use the shower, to stand under the hot water and let the sweat and stickiness wash away. How long would it take to make her feel clean again? An hour? A week? A hundred years?

At the bedroom door, Elyse spotted her other sandal, under the bed. She hesitated. It was bad enough to make the walk of shame to Jason’s car in her hootchie outfit. Despite her earlier bravado, she didn’t want to do it barefoot as well.

Eyeing the bed nervously, she crept over and hunkered down to grab her shoe. She gave one last look toward the bed—and the man sleeping in it—then hurried out the door.

****

Adam Vostek lay alone on the bed in the no-tell motel. He’d pretended to sleep as Elyse left with Jason. Adam’s insides were as twisted as the sheets he lay beneath.

This whole threesome thing had been his bright idea, his set-up. He’d pushed for it, telling himself it was just a lark, a little fun. He’d be giving Elyse every woman’s fantasy, two men devoted to her pleasure. Nobody would get hurt.

Yeah, right.

Vostek, you’re a lying sack of shit. And a cowardly son of a bitch, besides.

If it was such a good idea, why had Elyse looked like she might burst into tears when he suggested it?

If it was so much fun, why had his guts churned as he watched Jason touch her? Why had Adam wanted to pull her out of the other man’s arms and snarl, “She’s mine”?

But they’d both gone through with it. And Elyse had chosen to leave with a man she only met tonight, rather than stay with him.

He should have stopped her from leaving. Even now, Adam knew he should get out of bed, get dressed, and go after her. Make it better somehow.

Ask for forgiveness. Tell her how much he loved her.

But he wouldn’t. For the same reason he’d maneuvered the others into the whole ménage game.

Because he had to make Elyse let him go. And the only way to do that was to make her hate him.

****

Elyse stared out the passenger’s window of Jason’s sports car. She didn’t know a Mustang from a Maserati, but she recognized expensive when she saw it. “Nice car.”

“Thanks.”

Well, that exhausted her store of conversation.