Naughty Neighbors (5 page)

“She’s my best friend.”

“Best, hell.” He pulled up a stool and sat next to her. “Honey, if that’s a best friend, you might want to consider running around with your enemies.”

Five

Room service wasn’t the culprit. In the midst of self-pleasure, Carly found her interruption much more intrusive than a knock upon their door. Somewhere between sticking her fingers inside her pussy and arching her back, Kemper’s phone buzzed in his shirt pocket. Maybe he wanted to taunt her by acting uninterested in her performance or perhaps he was just downright curious, but either way, he looked at his cell.

Right in the middle of her escalating climatic moment, he said, “Oh my God. No.”

Needless to say, the moment was ruined. “What is it?”

He thinned his lips and shook his head. Not the reaction she had wanted, all things considered. His expression made her think of football. Only football could make him so unresponsive. In about two seconds flat, he made her feel like she’d been caught with her finger in the pudding.

“We’ve gotta call Kara.”

“Now?” she asked, slightly irritated.

“Yes, now,” he replied. He hit a button and lifted the phone to his ear.

Carly’s sexual prowess took a nap and she immediately rose from the bed. She snatched her robe from the nearby settee and waited, watching for some sort of reaction as he frantically tried to call Kara once more. “She’s not picking up.”

“Do you mind telling me what this is about?” What started out as an inconvenient disruption rapidly turned into some sort of frenzy.

Kemper was clearly distraught. And if something was the matter with Kara, Carly would be the first to panic.

He held up his finger. “It’s going straight to voice mail.”

“Kemper. What is going on?”

He hurried to the television and turned on the news. “Some damn reporter in Cincinnati apparently made an announcement. You and I are getting married.”

“What?”

He shook his head and flipped through the channels. “A local entertainment reporter.”

“Stacy Stevenson,” Carly whispered.

“You know her?”

“I know
of
her and she’s been trying to get a scoop from Kara for nearly a year. We went to high school with her but I don’t remember her. Apparently she calls Kara all the time hounding her for news about you, asking her if there are wedding bells in her future, that sort of thing. She’s only interested in tabloid gossip.”

“Why didn’t Kara mention it?” Fury settled in his expression. “Why didn’t
you
say something about it?”

“Think about that for a minute, why don’t you.” She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. “We’ve been playing by your rules here since the very beginning. You’re the one who suggested we needed to keep our friendship and love life separate.”

“I—”

“You?” Carly cocked her head.

“Damn it.” He dragged his fingers through his hair and still came up empty-handed in the unfolding argument.

About that time, a photograph from Culina’s filled the screen. A headline splashed across the image like a banner running from one corner to the next. Carly blinked at the red bold font: Longhorns Quarterback Kemper Kapertone says I do!

“Holy shit,” Kemper mumbled.

Carly stared at the television, completely speechless. “Apparently the newswire picked up particles of information. Not only are we set for matrimonial bliss, but apparently we’ve already said our proverbial vows and we’re honeymoon bound!”

A heavy knock landed on the door then. Kemper tossed her the phone and said, “Keep trying Kara. She needs to hear the truth from us.”

As Kemper went to retrieve their dinner, Carly hid behind closed doors, frantically trying to reach Kara. In recent months, Kara had begun to show her insecurities. They’d shared Kemper for nearly two years, agreeing to the arrangement after Kemper signed with the Longhorns and Carly moved to Seattle.

Sharing Kemper between them was the perfect arrangement, or so they’d thought. They both had busy lives. They were career-driven and their relationship worked for their short-term goals.
Short-term
was the real humdinger. Now, Carly wondered why they hadn’t thought of this sort of scandal. They should’ve discussed how to handle the press.

For some reason, media counteraction never occurred to Carly. Then again, Kara had met Kemper first. Carly never graduated beyond her gratitude to discuss any potential what-ifs.

Kemper slipped inside the bedroom a few moments later. “Frank told me to give you his congratulations.”

“What?” Carly stared at him in disbelief.

“Don’t worry, I set him straight.”

“I don’t care about Frank or the millions of people out there who may believe this story!” Carly grabbed her clothes from the closet and slung them at her luggage. “I care about Kara. This news will destroy her!”

“Hang on there a minute,” Kemper said, grabbing her around the waist and holding her close.

Her eyes filled with tears. She put herself in Kara’s shoes and found she couldn’t even try them on for size. There was no way. If she had been on the receiving end of such information, she would’ve locked herself away and sobbed for days.

“Look at me,” Kemper said, lifting her chin to his. “It will be all right. She’s probably sprawled out on her bed, eating handfuls of peanuts while screaming at her new writing program for autocorrecting a word she didn’t want changed.”

“Do you really think so?” Carly dabbed the corners of her eyes and really hoped Kemper knew Kara better than she did because the Kara
she knew
went to bed with the television blaring. Depending on her programming of choice, she may have already heard the news.

“Yes, I do.” He framed her cheeks with his hands and kissed her forehead. “Let’s eat some dinner. We’ll give her a call again after we finish. Knowing Kara, she’s pounding away at the keyboard right now and doesn’t even know we exist.”

“I hope you’re right.” He was wrong. She could feel it.

“Trust me. Kara is a practical woman. Even if she hears this BS, she won’t do anything irrational. She’ll call or text. She’ll see this drama for what it is—the press taking a bunch of photographs, trying to develop a story.

Six

“I’m getting drunk.” Kara reached the decision right after she tapped her glass rim against Zak’s bottle top.

“You’re a cheap drunk,” Zak said. “What is that, two sips or three? If you keep this up, you’ll drink me under the table.”

“Very funny,” she said, carrying her bottle of red wine with her as she marched into the den and sank to the sofa. She set the wine on the coffee table then patted the seat beside her. “Sit down, Zak. We need to get to know one another better.”

Seemingly skeptical, he sat next to her and turned up his beer. “I hate you had to find out about Kapertone like this. That sucks.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” She took another sip of wine. The berry flavor soothed the bitter taste in her mouth so she took another drink. This time, she drank the glass dry.

“Don’t you think you should call him?”

“And say what?” she bellowed. “No, thank you very much. I’ve been humiliated enough for one night.” A beat later she asked, “Are you comfortable?”

“Yes.” Zak remained seated with his legs together and his hands clasped in his lap. “You acted as if you might have suspected that something was going on between your best friend and Kapertone. Did you?”

She poured another glass of wine. “Did I what?”

“Did you know they were foolin’ around?”

“Of course,” she replied, shrugging off the question with the wave of her hand. “Everybody around town knew too.”

“That must’ve been hard. Cincinnati is a big city but it becomes a small town when the rumor mills start churning.”

“Tell me about it,” she said.

“How’d the two of you meet?”

“I was freelancing and ghostwriting for another writer. I stood in for her while she went through a pretty nasty divorce. Anyway, to make a long story short, I was covering a Cincinnati game and the starting QB was hurt in the first play. As it happened, fate had her deceptive little hand in the whole meeting. Kemper went in for Dante Kilroy and had one of the best games of his career.”

“And you interviewed him after the game.” It wasn’t a question. Zak undoubtedly saw where her story was heading.

“I’d like to strangle May Winters right about now.”

“May Winters?”

“The writer who hired me.”

“Ah,” Zak muttered. “So do you still freelance?”

“I have a feeling I’ll never freelance or ghostwrite for another writer again.”

Zak laughed. “You’ll change your mind. Throw yourself into your work and don’t look back.”

“You don’t understand. It wasn’t supposed to end like this.”

“You mean there’s more to the story?”

Zak seemed overly interested, but she had a feeling he was more invested in her than he was in the unraveling Kara and Kemper saga. His wandering eye sort of gave him away, the one he seemingly kept pinned to the neckline of her low-cut shirt.

“You might need another beer for this,” she said, grabbing his empty bottle and returning to the kitchen.

Zak threw his arm over the sofa and watched her. “You know, considering what happened today, maybe you should open the package. Perhaps there’s a note inside.”

“A note?” Kara balked at that. “What on earth could he possibly say to take away this kind of humiliation?” She returned and quickly passed off his beer. Reality struck her then. She was embarrassed. Not hurt exactly, but humiliated.

She should’ve seen this coming.

Dropping to the sofa again, she made a point to scoot one cushion over. On a five-cushion arrangement, she was only three squares away from sitting on her neighbor’s lap.

Another drink and she might consider it, she mused, picking up her glass and taking a drink. She glanced at Zak and he appeared unmoved. Apparently he hadn’t noticed how she’d taken the opportunity to casually close the distance between them.

“You were saying there was more to the story?”

“Far more than meets the eye.” She looked at him dead on. “We had an understood arrangement.”

“I see,” he said, clearing his throat. “A lot of couples do that nowadays. Open relationships work well for some.”

“Apparently better for some than others.”

“I’m sorry.” Sincerity oozed.

Or...was it pity? God, she hoped not.

“Back to summarizing that long story,” Kara continued. “Kemper and I started dating. We saw one another for about a year and everything was perfect, actually. His schedule meshed with mine and mine with his. Still, I began to feel pressured. I recently turned twenty-two. We started dating when I was three months shy of my nineteenth birthday.”

“You are young,” Zak said.

“You aren’t over-the-hill,” she pointed out, but quickly noticed his salt and pepper hair along with the light lines highlighting his spectacular eyes.

“I’m forty-nine so yes, I’m over the hump.” A smile crept across his lips. “But continue. I have a feeling the best is yet to come.”

“Oh yes, you would say that.” She leaned forward and dropped her head and eyes in a conspiratorial fashion. For whatever reason, telling Zak about her romance with Kemper eased the pain. “The open part? That was for Kemper. Me? I was expected to be loyal.”

“Were you?”

“Absolutely.” She consumed more alcohol and sat there thoughtfully. Scooting over another cushion she added, “One time though, I did look at your ass.”

“You did?” He threw his head back and laughed. “Damn, I wish I’d caught you.”

Zak seemingly loosened up and Kara was grateful. She needed a shoulder and he looked as if he could bear her weight.

“So your friend and Kemper hooked up and you arranged it?”

“Something like that.” She leaned back and crossed her arms. “It seems so trivial now. All these emotions he stirred inside me were like...well, it was like being run over by a freight train in the middle of the night. There were no warning bells, no caution lights. There wasn’t even a long white board to fall in front of the tracks and ward off the approach.

“First, we’re on the field and I’m conducting the interview of my career—an interview that later cost May her job, no doubt, given the fact I was hired as a ghostwriter—but still, the newness of a first romance, the commendations for the interview, the notoriety that comes with landing such a writing gig...well, all of it was just spectacular.

“The connection, our chemistry, all of it was just so...well now I can put a name on it. It was a whirlwind romance. I had a really difficult time processing the idea that this handsome, charming professional football player was interested in little old me.”

“Why would that be so hard for you to process?” he asked, walking to the mantel and picking up a framed eight by ten. “Is this you back then?”

A dozen emotions rolled over her and all the old feelings came to the fore. Trying to keep her tears at bay by reminding herself that she had long since tired of the “Sharing Kemper” game, she cleared her throat and said, “I was nineteen there. That was taken right before his spring training began.” She rose and walked to the fireplace. Picking up another photograph, she quickly added, “And this is after spring training.” She thrust her arm forward, placing the frame in Zak’s hands.

“This is your friend here?” He pointed at Carly.

Kara glared at the picture and resisted the urge to scream out at that young, stupid girl and the best friend and boyfriend on either side of her. “Yes, Carly Diamond. My
best
friend since childhood.”

“She’s definitely hot,” Zak said.

Kara snorted at that. They’d been at the lake that day. Both of them were clad in bikinis yet Zak said Carly was hot. “Yep. That’s what Kemper had said when he first spotted her, too.” And while she was pissed, she didn’t exactly regret the day she’d introduced them. Why, she wondered, wasn’t she second guessing that decision when she was clearly the woman left behind in all of this?