Long Slow Burn (7 page)

She caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror in the entranceway. Cheeks flushed by wine, eyes snapping with excitement… She looked radiant. But plain. Her eyes could use definition. Her hair could use shaping.

Marie was right. Kim wouldn't be changing, not really. Though by agreeing to sign up for Milwaukeedates.com she was already changing. Finding the courage to date a guy like Troy, to flirt with a man like Dale. So maybe rather than a Band-Aid to help her feel better about herself, a makeover could be another step in that evolution. She'd certainly been feeling differently lately on the inside. Why not see if she could show something different on the outside, too?

Because she'd feel like a phony. On those introvert days when she didn't want to leave her house or talk to anyone, where she'd disappear into her world of design to escape having to put effort into human interaction. The haircut and makeup wouldn't fit that woman.

“Hi, ladies. Welcome.” The receptionist had makeup so lush she resembled a painting of a woman.

There was no way Kim could do that to herself.

They were led to dressing rooms to change into robes and slippers, then offered snacks and bottled water. First, they got hot stone massages: heated, oiled stones used to smooth out kinked muscles. Facials second: steamed, scrubbed, moisturized. Showers third: Swedish stalls with a luxurious embarrassment of showerheads. Shampoos fourth, then Kim sat in the chair looking at herself in the mirror, hair a sodden tangle, skin tingling from the treatments, muscles relaxed, head still buzzing pleasantly from the wine.

This was the life.

“Hi, I'm Jenny. What would you like to do today, Kim?”

“I just want a trim?” She hadn't meant to make it a question. “Or…I don't know.”

The woman held up a length of her hair and gazed into the mirror. “That's it?”

“Oh. Well…maybe more?”

“If I could suggest something.”

Kim had a feeling Marie and Candy had put her up to this. “Okay.”

“You need a shorter length with a bang to bring out those dynamite eyes and those incredible cheekbones. They're lost in this length. Minimal makeup. Your skin is gorgeous on its own. Women would kill to have your pores.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Kim tried to look pleased. She was very glad she had never thought to worry about her pores, and doubly glad to know now that she wouldn't need to worry about them in the future.

“Will you let me try? I think you'll be pleased with the result.”

The Kim parade began again in her mind. Sexy cut, sexy outfit, sexy Kim. Troy, Dale, Tony…

And again, Nathan, holding Sexy Kim's wrists above her head in the dark room, his wide body hovering over hers.

She met the stylist's eyes in the mirror and gave a firm nod, lips pressed tightly together.

“Do it.”

K
IM TOOK THE ELEVATOR
up to the third floor in her building, grateful it was empty and that Nathan would be tending bar at the Hi Hat Lounge. She was anxious to get inside her apartment without anyone seeing her, to have private time to take in her new look.

What had seemed exciting and right while she sat in the chair had turned exciting and right and scary as long clumps of her hair succumbed to the scissors. She'd ended up with a deftly highlighted, chin-length bob with slanted bangs. The makeup, which she insisted be applied with a light hand, emphasized her eyes and cheekbones, and colored her lips into sensual splendor.

She looked great. And very different. Older. More sophisticated. Sexier. To her embarrassment, Marie and Candy had squealed loudly when she'd emerged into the lavish lobby all done up. Then they'd carted her off to roughly twenty million stores—at least it felt like that many—to find the fabled outfit that would make men fall at her feet.

They'd found it. Or rather, Marie and Candy found it—and insisted on buying—a low-cut white cashmere sweater and a clingy, deep rose skirt. With matching shoes. Another couple of pieces Kim bought for herself with their approval. They'd insisted she keep on the purple scoop-neck minidress with an Empire waistline that did flattering things to her
figure and image, and the black pumps they declared gave her legs enough punch to knock guys out. Kim wasn't sure. On the way back she'd passed several men and not one had keeled over.

She giggled, blaming the wine. After the shopping, Marie had insisted another drink was in order. Kim would probably be hungover before dinner. Nice.

The elevator doors opened and she walked down the shabby hall to her door in the unfamiliar heels, which hadn't tripped her yet, but she was sure it was only a matter of time. Her key hit the lock and turned. Whew. Safe haven. She scurried inside and froze, one hand clutching the doorknob.

Nathan. Not at work. Standing in their living room. Wearing nothing but a towel.

Oh, my God. He had the body of an Olympic diver. He had hair on his chest. He was a
man.
A real one.

Oh, my God.

“Kim.” He was staring as if he'd never seen her before, either. “You look incredible.”

She had no idea what to do or what to say. The heat in his eyes was unmistakable. He hadn't fallen at her feet yet, but he looked as if he might.

Or maybe kneel there. Put his arms around her thighs and press his face to—

Kim, get a grip.

Letting go of the doorknob was a good first step. Next, she put down her packages, which contained her old clothes and the rest of the new, including a little black dress very much like the one in her parade-in-front-of-men fantasy. She couldn't imagine when she'd wear it, but once Marie and Candy saw it on her, that was that.

“Why aren't you at work?”

“Traded shifts. I'm going later. What did you do to yourself?” He hadn't stopped staring. She didn't think he'd even blinked.

“I went to a salon. With friends. And then shopping.” She
dragged her eyes away from his muscled chest and arms and from his predatory gaze, but they dragged themselves back.

He was handsome. Not just cute. Handsome in a more real way than Troy's dark perfection. His brown hair was still wet, and bits of it stood on end all over his head, making him look sexily disheveled. His jaw was smooth-shaven. The scents of soap and aftershave even made inhaling in the same room arousing.

Nathan was
hot.

He walked toward her, stopped six feet away when she put up her hand, warding off the unknown.

“Kim.” His voice was deep, husky. “You look like a completely different woman.”

“No. No, no. I'm not.” Immediately, she wanted her long hair back, wanted to run to the bathroom and wash off the new face. She did not want to look like one of the women Nathan collected. She didn't want him attracted to her for that reason.

Wait, she didn't want him attracted to her for
any
reason.

“Hey, hey. No. Of course you're not.” He was speaking uncharacteristically slowly, as if the sight of her had run down his brain. Blood draining somewhere else? She glanced at his towel; she couldn't help it. No, thank goodness, nothing that obvious. “I just said you look different. You look incredible.”

So do you.

She couldn't say that. Up close his body was even more beautiful and even more disconcerting. His skin looked soft and touchable, the muscle tough and sensually masculine.

“Thank you. You look very…” She gestured vaguely to his torso, eyes down somewhere by his knees. “Clean.”

When he didn't respond, she lifted her eyes and immediately wished she hadn't, because his gaze gripped hers and held on. She'd seen men's bodies before, had admired men's bodies before, but had never wanted to touch and taste like this. Was it the wine? The makeup? The outfit? Was
she going to turn into someone as shallow in pursuit of the opposite sex as Nathan?

Look at him, practically drooling just because she'd changed her appearance. What about last night? She wasn't worth drooling over then?

He'd pressed her to the wall, leaned close, but no, not drooling; it was all a big ha-ha joke on her. Good thing she hadn't known what that body looked like under his clothes or she would have been even more tempted, and then humiliated by the
gotcha.

She had to break this crazy spell.

“I'm going to change and wash this stuff off. You hungry? I assume you're going to want to put something on besides a towel for dinner?”

He blinked, as if she'd woken him from a trance, and gestured to his lack of outfit. “Yeah, I was in the shower and remembered I don't have any…clean underwear.”

The look on his face was so boyishly sheepish that she was able to forget the body. Yup. Still Nathan. So, fine. They'd had a weird connection on some other level than they were used to, that was all. For a few seconds they'd been attractive strangers to each other. Now back to normal.

“Go commando then. Stir-fry tonight? I found a recipe for orange-beef with broccoli that sounds great. I could use help if you feel like it.” She walked past him, aware she was babbling. “You finished in the bathroom?”

“It's all yours.”

She spun around and eyed him like a disapproving school-teacher. “In this bathroom that you are all finished with, will I find dirty clothes on the floor and the bath mat not put back?”

“Um…” He made a beeline for the bathroom door, holding her off with an outstretched hand. “Be right out. I, uh, forgot to shave twice.”

Kim laughed, completely back on track. After he came out with an armload of his clothes, she went into the bathroom, which was humid and fresh, and filled with the same scent
she'd smelled on Nathan, but which she would now and forever after ignore. She washed the makeup off, glad when the mirror showed her drippy familiar reflection, though with the new hair. She dried her face and went back to her room to change into her sweats and sweater.

The sweats went on, baggy sweater went on. She stood for a moment in the old, comfortable clothes, then went to her full-length mirror for a long look.

Impulsively, she changed the sweats for jeans, pulled the sweater back off and dug in her bureau drawer until she found a soft blue cardigan, which she paired with a white, scoop-neck shirt. Another look in the mirror. Her cheeks glowed from their scrubbing, her eyes matched the sweater—but they'd lost their vivid shape.

She strode to the bed, where she'd thrown the bag of overpriced cosmetics, bought under the careful scrutiny of Marie, Candy and the lady at Macy's whose makeup, Kim thought privately, made her look like the bride of Dracula. She grabbed the soft brown eye liner, smudged on the barest amount, then curled her lashes and darkened the tips with mascara.

Back to the mirror. Turning this way, that way, touching her new shorter hair, making sure she didn't look as if she'd made herself up to look sexy for Nathan, because she was doing this only for herself. And for Dale and any guys she'd be dating in the future.

Feeling a little giddy, she made for the kitchen and started getting out ingredients: knives and cutting boards, steak, broccoli, an orange, scallions, garlic, soy sauce and sesame oil, cornstarch for coating the beef, and rice, which she put on to cook so it would be ready when they were.

“I'm no longer indecent.”

Nathan's voice made her jump. For heaven's sake, she had to stay comfortable with him or she'd never survive the next few months. “Well, that's good.”

“But you are still beautiful.”

She scowled at him. “What, you want to borrow money or something?”

“Actually.” He stood next to her at the counter, too close. “I am short for rent this month.”

“Really?” Her mouth went dry; the wine rebelled in her stomach. Nathan sent her a look that made her cringe in shame. “Sorry, right, sorry. You were kidding.”

“Geez, Kim. It's great to know you have such a high opinion of me.” He nudged her to show he was teasing. “Put me to work.”

“Can you slice the steak?”

“How do you want it?” He reached across her; his upper arm brushed her collarbone; Kim jerked back, then was annoyed at herself for reacting. “Thin slices?”

“Yes.” She stepped away from the counter, peered at her recipe, taking a minute to calm down.

“Want a beer?” He opened the refrigerator.

Maybe that would relax her, though she wasn't sure she needed any more alcohol today. “Okay.”

“Coming up.” Nathan popped the tops off of two St. Pauli Girls and handed her one. “To your health.”

“Thank you.” She clinked bottles without looking at him, took a long sip. “Mmm, that hits the spot.”

“Uh-huh.” He took his place at the kitchen table with a cutting board, knife and steak, and started slicing. “Tell me something I don't know about you, Kim.”

“Huh? Why?” She put her beer on the counter, opened a drawer for the Microplane grater and went to work on the orange rind.

“Why not? Tell me your best childhood memory.”

Kim set the orange down and twisted to look at him. This wasn't the type of conversation she'd come to expect from Nathan. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I'm serious. Why shouldn't I be?”

“I don't know.” While she thought how to answer, she piled fragrant rind onto a saucer, picked up a scallion and
stripped off a wilted outer leaf. “Okay, I can think of two favorite memories.”

“Tell me.”

“We-ell.” She felt shy sharing with him, and wasn't sure why. “The first is when I was eight, my dad made me a dollhouse for my birthday, an incredible one. Three stories, taller than me. It was fully furnished, too, electric lights that worked, and a little doll family in residence. It was the most magical thing I'd ever seen. I played with it constantly.”

“What happened to it?”

“When I went to college Mom sold it.” Kim's voice thickened with nostalgia. She reached for her beer and took a long slug.

“Without
asking
you?”

“She told me she was doing it.” Kim began chopping the scallions into half-inch lengths. “It was around the time of the divorce, my sophomore year. She was moving into a smaller place. I didn't have the heart to insist she keep something she had no room for and which I'd never play with again. It was some other girl's turn to enjoy it.”

“I'm sorry.”

Kim shrugged, surprised at how the memory moved her. “We all have to grow up sometime.”

“Ha.
I
never bothered.”

Laughter caught her. She turned and found Nathan behind her with a board of neatly sliced steak. “Meat's done. What's next, boss?”

“Coat it with cornstarch?”

Nathan frowned dubiously. “Um…”

“Put cornstarch in a plastic bag, add the slices and shake.”

“That sounds like serious fun.”

She laughed at his enthusiasm, feeling at ease again. He seemed able to rattle her and smooth her out within a very few minutes. Nice little roller coaster.

“You said there were two childhood memories.” He
reached for the yellow box of cornstarch, poured some into a plastic bread bag. “What was the second?”

“Are you going to tell me yours afterward?”

“Are you kidding me?” He interrupted a swallow of beer to stare scornfully. “I don't share anything with women but body fluids.”

“Nathan!”

He grinned. “I will tell you whatever you want to know, Kim. Finish yours first.”

“Hmph. But okay.” She scraped the chopped scallions onto a plate, pulled the broccoli toward her. “My second favorite memory was the first time my dad took me to the ballet.”

“Your
dad
went to the ballet?”

Kim rolled her eyes, then caught the twinkle in his. “Why do you pretend to be such a boor?”

He seemed caught off guard. “I don't know what you mean.”

“More of a boor than you really are, I mean.”

He grinned, easy and in control again, and shrugged. “Habit.”

“Bad one.”

“Could be.” He added meat slices to the bag of cornstarch. “Your dad sounds like a cool guy.”

“Great dad. Dismal husband.” She gave the broccoli a particularly vicious whack with the knife. “He didn't do much to keep the home fires burning. In fact, he was out lighting them everywhere else.”

Nathan stopped shaking the bag. “Kim, I'm sorry.”

“Thanks.” She whacked off another floret, not sure why she'd told him. She hadn't told many people. Her best friend in high school. Boyfriends. Marie. And now Nathan.

“But he took you to the ballet.”

“He did. The
Nutcracker
at Christmas. I was about seven. Mom wasn't into that kind of cultural experience, but he felt it was important. I loved the dancing so much I begged to take lessons.”