The Girl Most Likely To... (21 page)

Fine. She backed away and gestured him inside, then stooped to pick up last week's Sunday Baltimore /Sun/, which she'd left scattered on the rug before she went to the Caymans. Obviously, I wasn't expecting company.

Riley stepped inside and she closed the door behind him. Have a seat.

She pointed to the armchair. Would you like some hot cocoa? Tea?

No, thanks. I'm good.

She watched Riley enter her home and stroll around the room, taking in the combination of secondhand and self-assembled furniture that made up the main room of her apartment. His first stop was the set of bookcases that took up the whole far wall. He ran his fingers along the spines of the books.

Eastern philosophy, archaeology, astronomy, Greek tragedies. He laughed softly. I see you're still a bookworm.

Next, Riley stopped at the fireplace mantel to examine a series of photos of Aidan, from babyhood on up. Riley picked up a framed snapshot of their son at the zoo as a three-year-old. He's so incredible, Riley whispered, placing the photo back where he found it and moving on to the next, and then the next.

We can get copies made of all the photos, Kat offered from the kitchen doorway.

That would be great. Riley moved toward the old chair where she'd been reading, the books scattered under the lamp on a side table. He selected the title on top, which Kat had left open, and flipped it over. A small piece of cardboard fluttered to the carpet.

Repressed memory? Riley frowned at her, then bent down to retrieve what had fallen. He read the print and his scowl deepened. Is Jeff someone you're dating?

No. He's just a friend. Kat decided to skip the teaand the small talkand just get this over with. She left the kitchen and plopped down on the couch. Riley, you shouldn't be here and you know it.

Riley returned Jeff's business card to between the pages and put down the book, but not before picking up the one underneath and reading the title aloud. /The Blunt Truth: How to Bust Your Life Wide Open with Honesty/. Hmm.

Riley set the paperback on the table and made himself comfortable in the armchair. Getting your degree in psychology?

Just getting my shit together. Kat told herself she would be all business with Riley, and in order to do that, she'd have to avoid looking at him, because every time she looked at him, her blood went hot and all she could think about was the hours they had spent tangled in the bed-and-breakfast sheets, his hard cock claiming its territorywhich was her. She took just a quick peekGod, that man looked good in a pair of jeans and a simple button-down shirt. Kat cleared her throat. So how's Aidan? He's still not talking to me.

Riley smiled thoughtfully, continuing to check out her small apartment from his seat. He's a wonderful young man, Kat. You should never have kept him from me, but you clearly were a good mom to him, and I thank you.

The sincerity in his voice made Kat soften. He was correctshe'd done many things right, and it was satisfying to hear him acknowledge it.

Thanks, Riley.

Now, let's just get to the point. Exactly why is it that I shouldn't be here? Riley rested his elbows on his knees and leaned in Kat's direction. Because you started this, Scout. You rolled into Persuasion last week, fucked my brains out, made me remember what it feels like to be alive, then just disappeared without a word.

Any softness inside her just hardened up again. What kind of lowlife would be acting like he wasn't engaged? What had happened to Riley's decency? Waitmaybe it was the same old storydespite appearances, Riley Bohland didn't have any decency.

And then you come back here to Baltimore and get so snooty that you won't even return my calls. You can't do that to people, Kat. You can't do that to /me/. And I don't know how far along you've gotten in this book right here, but we both know there isn't a speck of honesty in that bullshit, and I don't deserve it.

She stared blankly, not believing his audacity. Oh, reeeally?

Really.

Kat produced a sweet little smile. And what about your fiancйe? I'm sorry, but I didn't catch her name.

Riley's face froze for an instant, and all Kat could think was, /Gotcha/.

He breathed hard through his nose a few times. My /who/? he whispered.

The woman you're supposed to marry on Christmas Eve. That who.

Riley sat perfectly still, nothing moving but his Adam's apple.

C'mon now, Riley. You're a very smart manhaving gone through medical school and alland I bet if you try hard enough, you can remember your betrothed's name.

Kat watched Riley's spine stiffen. After a moment, he collapsed back into the chair and crossed his legs. An expression of disgust washed over his face. Where'd you get that information?

Does it matter? Kat was becoming more annoyed by the second. Was he really going to sit there and deny it? He had become the kind of person she didn't even want to know, let alone be involved with, and she was beginning to regret bringing him into Aidan's life.

Oh, it matters so much you wouldn't believe. It surprised Kat that Riley chose that moment to laugh, then shake his head. So you met Carrie?

I don't know anyone named Carrie, Kat spat out. Madeline Bowman told me about your wedding when I came in from a walk the morning after… after, well, after I fucked your brains out.

Riley looked stunned. Madeline?

Yes. She dropped the bomb on me in the dining room, and… look, this is ridiculous. Kat got up from the couch and moved to the door. What did I expect? I haven't spoken to you in twenty years, and it's not like all that stuff we used to tell each other as kids was /real/ or anything.

You're allowed to have a life. Now you're engaged. That's perfectly normal. I'm sure she's lovely. You don't owe me anything. It's no big deal. End of story.

Kat unlocked the door and cracked it open, then turned to him, suddenly energized. But I'll tell you what is not OK, and that's how it didn't even matter to you that you were engaged! You didn't care about your fiancйe /or/ me that night in that ridiculously huge bed. The only thing you cared about was getting your freak on, as Nola would say, and when I look back, my God… I was so stupid! That's what it's always been about for you, isn't it? Maybe that's how it is with all men. I'm sick of men!

Kat stopped, suddenly aware that Riley had left the chair and was standing near her at the door, glaring down at her. Without a word, he slapped his hand against the door and slammed it shut.

Where's your bedroom? he asked.

Kat couldn't breathe. Her head was spinning. She was so turned on that her legs were shaking. Why did this man turn her into human pudding like this? It wasn't fair.

But Riley grabbed a handful of her hair at the back of her head and calmly planted his lips right over hers, putting an end to whatever it was that she'd wanted to say. Which she couldn't remember now. Because he kissed her like he was entitled to her mouth. He held her in place by her hair like he had every right to do it. With his lips and tongue and teeth he put his brand on her, and through the fog of lust, all Kat could think of was the lyrics to one of those songs she heard at least ten times a week on the Oldies station in the back room radio at the flower shop: If loving you is wrong, I don't want to be right.

Riley removed his lips and smiled down at her.

Kat was dizzy. But not too dizzy to do the right thing, because unlike Riley, she had a conscience. She fumbled for the door handle once more and pulled it open. Good-bye, Riley. Have a happy life.

His smile didn't budge. I'm not engaged. There is no fiancйe.

Kat suddenly felt unsteady on her feet, like she needed to lie down. On her bed. With him. No fiancйe? she whispered.

There was oneCarrie Mathislast year, right before I found out about you and Aidan. He began to brush his fingertips along the side of her face.

She became a little unbalanced when I canceled the wedding and broke up with her. I think she used Madeline to mess with you in a very big way.

Kat felt the hope begin to swell inside her. She could barely speak. Is that the truth?

The blunt truth, Scout. And I'm thinking we're free to bust our lives wide open right about now, if you get my drift.

The bedroom is down the hall to your right, she said.

Carrie didn't think he'd mind. After all, according to Madeline, Virgil Cavanaugh hadn't left his house since his wife died, except for his recent visit to the cardiac unit at Davis Memorial, so it wasn't like Carrie would be interrupting his busy schedule or anything.

She pulled her Volvo into the driveway and took a quick glance around.

The place looked untidy. Obviously, hiring a neighborhood kid to rake up the leaves was not a priority for Mr. Cavanaugh. Then again, the way Madeline described him, maybe he couldn't pay a kid enough to do his yard work. She said the only person who could stand to be in the same room with him was his sister, who'd been doing his shopping and laundry since Mrs. Cavanaugh died.

Carrie smiled to herself as she climbed the front steps, thinking that she could handle one little old nasty hermit. She rang the doorbell.

Nothing.

She rang it again. No sound of movement inside.

Carrie dug her finger into the doorbell and didn't let up. The hospital records indicated he'd been released five days earlier, but maybe he'd infarcted on his kitchen floor. She had just about decided to call 911 when she heard a faint rustling.

Mr. Cavanaugh? Carrie spoke in a voice loud enough to penetrate the door. May I talk with you for just a moment? I'm Dr. Caroline Mathis, a colleague of Dr. Bohland's.

I don't do house calls, said a scraggly voice from inside.

That made her laugh. This is more of a social call, Mr. Cavanaugh.

Please open up.

I don't do those, either.

Carrie sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. This old geezer was a character. Unfortunately, he was beginning to irritate her.

I'd just like a few minutes of your time.

The dead bolt turned. The wooden door of the tacky rancher opened, and from behind the ragged screen she saw an equally ragged face.

Make it snappy, he said.

Good evening, Mr. Cavanaugh. It's an honor to meet you.

The old man let out a wheeze of a laugh. Charmed, I'm sure. Now what the hell do you want?

Carrie blinked in surprise. No wonder Virgil Cavanaugh didn't have any friends. May I come in?

You may not. Just state your business and then you can leave.

Well… Carrie looked around the unkempt front yard. It's a rather delicate subject. Are you sure you want me to be standing out here in public?

Mr. Cavanaugh craned his neck to look over her shoulder. What public?

What the hell are you talking about?

It has to do with your daughter, Mr. Cavanaugh. I need just a few minutes of your time.

Carrie observed, fascinated, as the old man's demeanor changed. His back straightened and his eyes cleared, like a heat inside him had just burned through the dullness of age, coronary artery disease, and what smelled like a fifth of Stolichnaya. She watched his cheek spasm.

Go around to the back of the house. He slammed the door in her face.

Can I just say how much I appreciate you not wearing a bra? Riley yanked off Kat's T-shirt and buried his face in the heavenly succulence of her breasts.

I'm happy that you're happy. While he kicked aside his shoes and socks, she pulled his pants off, then ripped off his shirt.

Do you always go braless at home? Riley inhaled the sugary aroma of her girl flesh.

Kat giggled, raking her fingertips through Riley's hair and pulling him tighter to her body. I think I'm about to ruin some sort of man fantasy by telling you this, but no. I almost always wear a bra. I was just too depressed to put one on today.

Ah. More blunt truth.

Absolutely. That's all you'll get from me from here on out.

Riley groaned, enjoying how the tingles from his scalp were now shooting all the way through his limbs. He buried his nose deeper, inhaled some more, rubbed into her, then dragged his lips down from her cleavage to her tummy, where he grabbed the waistband of her pants and underwear, and yanked those off, too. He stepped back to stare at the vision in front of himKat Cavanaugh, naked. All pink softness. Real. A real Kat Cavanaugh all pink and naked and sitting on the edge of her bed looking happy to see him.

Riley fell to his knees in front of her. Mind if I worship you?

Kat laughed.

I'm dead serious.

Her laugh died down. She played with his hair as a small smile crept over her face. I wouldn't know what that feels like.

Her response shocked him. He and Kat hadn't talked much that night at Cherry Hill, but from what Aidan said, Riley figured that Kat had had a healthy love life over the years.

How can that be? Riley asked.

She shrugged. Just never found the right man for the job, I guess. She ran a fingertip down the bridge of Riley's nose. And you? How come no woman snapped you up in those moments you happened not to be engaged?

Riley gently pushed her thighs apart. Not wide, but enough that he could see the tight red curls that guarded the entrance to a pussy that was already swelling and wet for him. He looked up at her and was greeted by eyes as warm as honey but shadowed by doubt. It broke his heart.

He wished he could say something profound, something that would satisfy that doubt once and for all. He wanted to wrap up all the pain and loneliness and mistakes and longing of the last twenty years and put all of it behind them. He wanted to wash them both clean, give them both permission to risk everything for another shot at happiness.

But since he didn't have a clue how to do that with words, he decided to rely on touch.

Riley leaned down and kissed the instep of her left foot, then her right. He slowly dragged his tongue along the inside of one of her ankles, then lifted her leg up and out so that he could nibble on the tender skin behind the knee. While he did this, Kat leaned back on her palms and let her head loll, moaning softly.