The Last First Kiss (Harlequin Special Edition) (6 page)

It was a struggle for her to ignore the effect of his warm breath along not just her neck but other parts of her body, as well. Instead, she forced herself to focus on what he’d just said. “I forgot how you could overthink things.”

“The other side of that is that you
under-
think them,” he pointed out.

“There’s no such word,” she pointed out, the wide smile on her lips for everyone else’s benefit so that the people at the party would think they were just indulging in lovers’ talk.

Dave snorted. “Maybe not, but in your world, there should be.”

Reaching the kitchen, she crossed to the refrigerator and opened it. The beverages she was interested in—diet soda—were lined up on the bottom shelf. She bent over to look at the various labels.

“What’s your pleasure?” she asked, turning around various cans and bottles to examine their names.

Dave watched, almost against his will, as the back of the narrow skirt of her sundress hiked up to a new, mesmerizing height, stopping just at the tops of the back of her thighs and managing to tantalize him.

You.

The word flashed through his mind in response to her question, surprising him probably more than it would her had he said it out loud.

Dave smothered both the word and the feeling as quickly as if it were a sudden spark in a tinder-dry forest.

Hearing no answer, Kara, still bent over the shelf, looked at him over her shoulder. “Dave?” she prodded.

“Anything,” he said quickly, looking away as if someone had called to him. “I don’t care.”

“Okay.” Taking a can of a popular brand of diet cola in each hand, she stood up, turned around and handed one to him. “Anything, it is.”

The paper cups were on the counter directly behind Dave, and Kara brushed against him as she reached for one for herself. The unexpected jolt of electricity that raced through him had him convinced that this, coming here with her, was a bad idea. Definitely a very bad idea.

Served him right for listening to her, he upbraided himself.

As he heard several people enter the room, he saw Kara tense ever so slightly. He didn’t have to turn around to know why, but he did anyway. Just in time to see Kara’s mother crossing to them. Or perhaps it was the refrigerator that was the object of her focus.

Rather than greet her daughter, the petite woman turned her attention and remarkable blue eyes exclusively on him. The smile on her lips lit up her whole face, and her eyes crinkled as she took his hand and shook it.

“Dave,” she cried warmly. “It’s so nice to see you again. Your mother’s been telling me all good things about you.”

He knew how much his mother liked to brag about him. Though he loved her dearly, it made him uncomfortable. Dave shrugged in response. “She likes to exaggerate.”

“Oh, I doubt that, Dave,” Paulette assured him, still not looking at Kara. “I’ve known your mother a very long time. Exaggeration isn’t in her nature. Why, thank you,” she said as he handed her the can of soda Kara had just given him a moment earlier. Briefly, her eyes shifted toward Kara, then back to him. Popping the top of the can, she picked up a paper cup and filled it halfway before asking, “Who’s your friend?”

This, Kara knew, was a not-too-veiled comment on the fact that, according to her mother, they didn’t see each other nearly enough. Working overtime at the company meant she had enough time to go to and from work, then crash as she tried to eat a very late dinner. It left no time for visiting.

“Very funny, Mom.”

“Mom,”
Paulette repeated as if she were tasting the word for flavor and then turning it over in her mind. “I seem to remember knowing someone who used to call me that,” she told Dave. “But for the life of me, I can’t seem to recall who. I just have this vague feeling that I haven’t seen that person in ages.”

“And you might not,” Kara warned, “if you keep this up. And you—” she turned toward Dave “—stop smirking. It’s only encouraging her, and God knows she doesn’t need any encouragement.”

Paulette patted Dave’s arm and offered him a very conspiratorial smile. “Her bark has always been worse than her bite, Dave,” she assured him. “Kara might seem rather prickly, but on the inside, she’s really a softie. You just have to be patient. Sometimes it takes longer to surface.”

He doubted if there was that much patience in the world, but he kept that to himself. Instead, he said dutifully, “Yes, ma’am.”

Paulette smiled. It was obvious that she was allowing herself a moment to dream. And by her expression, Kara had a sneaking suspicion she knew exactly what her mother was dreaming.

Not in a million years, Mom. Sorry.

“I always liked you, Dave,” Paulette told him with feeling. She sifted her eyes toward her daughter. The smile cooled a little. “You, I’m not so sure about.” Picking up both the paper cup and the can of soda, her eyes swept over both of them. “Carry on, you two,” she urged as she left the room. “And I mean that from the bottom of my heart.”

Kara rolled her eyes, refusing to look in Dave’s direction. There had been train wrecks that were subtler than her mother, she thought in dismay.

Chapter Six

D
espite the carefully mapped-out placement of the balloons and the elaborately decorated patio and family room, which fairly sang of Ryan’s affection for all things Kalico Kid, the party was really a rather informal one. There were a number of adults milling around, either catching up with one another or exchanging the kind of pleasantries that were involved when strangers attempted to become acquaintances. All the voices were raised in varying degrees in order to compete with the joyful din created by approximately ten children, each of whom sounded not unlike a small army of his or her own.

Consequently, midway through the celebration, Kara found herself the less-than-proud owner of a really raw throat. This was more shouting than she was used to, even though the people she worked with had a tendency to yell across the room to communicate.

By the time she joined in singing “Happy Birthday” with the others, she felt as if she were literally gargling with sand. Once the off-key rendition of the traditional birthday song was mercifully put out of its misery, Ryan got to make the first cut on his cake. With an eye toward saving all ten of his digits—and the fingers of those close to him—his mother quickly took over. She deftly sliced the cake, which she’d baked in the shape of the aforementioned Kalico Kid.

“Lucky thing I could get my hands on the game,” Kara commented to Dave’s back. Since he’d somehow managed to get in front of her and stood between her and the cake, she was about to ask him to pass her a slice when he turned around and handed her the paper plate he’d picked up.

Stunned at his thoughtfulness, she discovered that she’d temporarily lost the ability to speak. Instead, she stared. At the cake, at him.

Amused, he bent over and whispered into her ear, “Took your thunder away, didn’t I?”

She wished either that he’d stop doing that, or, at the very least, that the sensation of his warm breath gliding along her skin would stop affecting her this way. “Something like that,” she finally murmured.

He hadn’t moved back yet. His face remained just inches away, and looking into his eyes was doing some very unexpected things to her. Things she was having a great deal of difficulty reconciling with the all-but-glaring fact that this was
Davy,
someone she’d once found irritating and annoying. Someone she’d enjoyed torturing whenever the opportunity arose—which had been often.

Unable to hear her because of the noise level, he cocked his head, pretended to cup his ear for her benefit and said, “What?”

Kara began to repeat her answer, but then, not trusting her voice to remain intact if she allowed herself to utter more than a single word, she finally gave up and merely said, “Yes.”

Just then, Ryan drew all attention in his direction when, untouched cake plate in hand, he looked up plaintively toward his parents, specifically toward his mother, who, Kara had already assessed, was clearly the reigning disciplinarian of the duo.

Ryan’s appeal confirmed it the next moment. “Please, Mom?”

It was obvious that Melissa had wanted to establish a little order within the chaos, or at least generate a small eye within the hurricane that was her son’s birthday party. But it was equally obvious that Ryan had been drooling over his pile of gifts and wanted only to tear into the wrapping paper to unearth the treasures hidden beneath.

Melissa sighed. Her ultimate decision was never in doubt. “Okay, you can open your presents. But remember to go easy.”

Kara laughed, shaking her head. “He probably didn’t hear a single word she said after ‘okay.’”

Kara had half expected Dave not to hear, but the look he gave her as he glanced over his shoulder was almost conspiratorial and showed her that he had and was in agreement.

Now, there’s a first, she couldn’t help thinking. She and Dave in agreement—and there’d been no choking involved. Would wonders never cease?

“I think he was off and running when she started to nod her head.” A great deal of fondness flooded his eyes as he glanced back at Ryan. “You’re only eight once.”

Something in his voice piqued her interest. Kara slanted a glance toward Dave even as she watched Ryan tearing into his gifts with the innocent gusto only an eight-year-old could display.

“You actually remember being eight?” she asked him, curious.

“Vaguely,” he admitted. Then he looked at her, his expression becoming more animated. “I remember you at eight.”

She wasn’t expecting that. Surprised, she asked, “You do? Why?”

That, as he recalled, was the year she really went to town on him. The year that she seemed determined to drive him insane. “Because you made my life a living hell that year.”

Maybe she had been a little too forceful, but only because he seemed so intent on ignoring her. She’d already felt like an ugly duckling, and his treatment of her—acting as if she were invisible—was the precursor to her exacting revenge on him.

She’d implemented a lot of pranks that year. And he’d deserved every one of them, she added silently. Out loud, she apologized. But the words lacked heart.

“Sorry about that.”

“No, you’re not,” he told her, turning to face her now. “You’re grinning.”

She did her best to dial it back a little, but she could feel that she was still grinning. And really enjoying herself. Her mind cast about for a good cover—and she found one.

“Just happy to be here, watching what is actually my core audience getting ecstatic over the games the company’s been producing this last year,” she said. To prove her point, she motioned toward Ryan.

When Dave turned around to look, he saw that his cousin’s son was surrounded by a flurry of wrapping paper. The expression on the boy’s face could only be described as pure rapture. The object of all this unbound excitement was now in his hands, and, Kara noted with deep satisfaction, it was the game that had initially started this particular complex ball rolling.

“Looks like our game is a hit,” she murmured more to herself than to Dave.

But Dave did manage to hear her. Moreover, he looked very pleased, whether with her or himself, it wasn’t clear. But he gave her shoulder a quick, reinforcing squeeze, saying, “Thanks for getting it. The look on his face is absolutely priceless.”

His cousin was in obvious agreement because she seemed to be in her element, filming her son and his joyous unwrapping frenzy.

Glancing over toward him and Kara, Melissa mouthed, “Thank you,” to both of them.

Kara suddenly realized that Dave had misunderstood her use of the word
our.
She’d said it referring to herself and the team she’d headed up that had done the testing and retesting of the game until they all but hated the mere mention of the title. He, obviously, had taken it on a far more personal level, which was fine for the charade they were undertaking, but not so fine if he began to believe it.

It was a problem inasmuch as she had no plans of ever being attached to anyone. She’d learned early on that the consequences of using her heart for anything other than pumping blood were daunting and came with a dark promise of being hurtful somewhere down the line. She didn’t need that.
Ever.

So instead, she concentrated strictly on Dave’s cousin and smiled in response to the silent thanks, mouthing back, “Don’t mention it.”

Melissa’s happiness at her son’s joy was utterly obvious. Kara couldn’t help wondering, just for a second, what that had to feel like. What was it like, having someone you’d given birth to, someone created out of a surge of love, and then nurturing that little being until it was all knees and elbows and someone you would gladly give your life for?

No point wondering, Kara told herself sternly.

Sorry, Mom,
she thought, glancing in her mother’s direction.
No kids for me, no grandkids for you.
She felt guilty that her mother, suddenly aware of the eye contact, smiled at her.

“Thank you, Uncle Dave!” Ryan cried as the last of the wrapping paper fell away. He dashed over and, still clutching the prized video game, threw his arms around Dave’s waist.

Dave put his arms around the boy, momentarily relishing the hug before saying, “Don’t thank me, Ryan. Kara’s the one who actually got her hands on the video game to bring it to you.”

The fact that he was actually willing to share the glory surprised Kara. But the fact that, within less than a heartbeat, Ryan shifted his assault and threw his arms around her waist, crying, “Thank you, Aunt Kara!” surprised her even more.

She assumed that Ryan called Dave “Uncle” as a term of endearment and because there was no official title to describe their actual relationship. But calling her “Aunt” had a whole different meaning in this context. It bound her to Dave. Her natural reaction was quick and firm: deny.

“I’m not—” she began to protest, but her voice was partially drowned out by the excited squeals of Ryan’s friends, who were dying to try out the game with Ryan, and partially cut off because, for such a little guy, Ryan squeezed as tightly as any metal-shop vise. He completely stole her breath away.

“Ryan, there’s more,” Dave coaxed, peeling back the boy’s arms from around Kara’s waist.

Kara tried not to be too obvious as she sucked in her first lungful of air. Dave’s grin didn’t help matters too much.

“Not as super as this!” the boy cried with the unabashed certainty of the very young.

“I wouldn’t go betting on that, big guy,” Dave warned him, a secretive smile on his face.

She looked at Dave, puzzled. Leaning into him so he could hear her, she asked Dave, “How do you know that he’ll think they’re cool? I mean, I know, but you don’t even know what I brought,” she pointed out.

He looked at her as if he was just humoring her by answering. “You work for Dynamic Video Games, don’t you?” It was a rhetorical question. Or at least, it would have been, had it come from anyone but Dave.

“Yes, but how would you know if he’ll even like the video games I picked for him? I mean, like I said, I know,” she repeated with a casual certainty, “but isn’t this a little out of your sphere of knowledge?”

Not in her wildest dreams would she have ever imagined Dave even knowing how to take a video game out of its box, much less playing one or knowing which game was the current rage. Not without help.

“Why?” he wanted to know. “Doctors play video games, too, Kara.” He saw the dubious look on her face. “What, you think all I do is go to the hospital and then come home? I work in the E.R., which means that my shift can either be incredibly boring or so tense and frantic I don’t get a chance to draw two breaths in succession and hope to God I made the right judgment call in a time frame where most people just have lunch.” A smile played on his lips. “After a day like that, how do you think I unwind?”

“By lying in your crypt and having electrodes recharge you?” she asked innocently, keeping a straight face.

He disregarded her sarcastic reply. “I play video games.”

He was serious. This was going to require a little bit of mental readjusting on her part, she decided. Kara looked at him as if she’d never met him before. Because, she thought as she took the first bite of the birthday cake he’d handed her previously, maybe she really hadn’t. Apparently some people could change if they wanted to.

He could feel her eyes scrutinizing him. Delving into him as if to burrow down beneath his top layers. “Something wrong?” he wanted to know.

She shook her head, lowering her eyes back to the quickly disappearing piece of cake. “Nothing’s wrong. Just trying to figure out if you’re pulling my leg or not.”

He took his time responding, choosing instead to let his eyes do the initial talking for him. He knew that silence, that pretending to study her, would drive her crazy.

Finally he said, “Don’t worry, when I’m misaligning any part of your body, I promise that you’ll be the first to know it.” And then his smile widened. “Or maybe the second, but definitely one of those two numbers.”

Why did that sound more like foreshadowing than a glib comment? she wondered. And why did she feel as if she’d just been placed on notice? Something hot jumped over her spine. She congratulated herself for not reacting, at least not noticeably.

Rather than answer him, she pretended to be utterly taken with the last of her slice of birthday cake and also with Ryan’s revelry. He was still ripping the wrapping paper off the video games she’d bought at the company store at the last minute.

His friends cheered with each unveiling. The discovery of the Holy Grail could not have been greeted with more enthusiasm than this pint-size crowd had for these games. The shouts of encouragement and urgings to “play one of them already” were all but deafening.

Almost loud enough to drown out the special feeling growing inside of her. Unfortunately, the latter was rather overwhelming and all her attempts to ignore it were proving to be futile and useless. But she went on trying nonetheless, giving it her best shot.

Her best didn’t feel nearly good enough.

Several hours later, the party began to peter out and guests left with thanks ringing in their ears and doggie bags comprised of warm leftovers placed in their hands. Kara had been elected to safeguard theirs.

Something had been weaving its way in and out of Dave’s thoughts for a good part of the evening, plaguing him. He found that the answer wasn’t easy and it had pushed him to teeter on a fence.