Her Something Impetuous Read online

  “So, typical kids?”

  “Totally normal.” She felt a pang for them, for what they were going through. They’d each retreated to their own corners during what Terri kept referring to as their ‘adjustment period,’ and Karen hated that. She wanted to be able to talk to them, to discuss what was going on, to reassure them that everything would be okay. And neither of them would give her the time of day. For Cait, that wasn’t so unusual. But she and Pam…they used to be close. Until three months before she left for college, they’d talked about everything. She’d known Pam like she’d known herself.

  And now…now Pam was as bad as Cait. They were both unreasonable little snits, but still…they were her unreasonable little snits. They were her heart. “What about you? Any kids?”

  He shook his head. “No, none for me.”

  She felt a little sorry for him for not having kids. Then again, sometimes she felt sorry for herself for having them.

  “What do you do, besides get tattoos and embarrass your daughter?”

  “I own a pet store on Thirty-Fourth. That keeps me busy, of course. And I’m in a few civic groups. The Piedmont Women’s Guild, and the Rockridge Neighborhood Association.” She took another bite of coconut cream. “Holy cow. I sound so boring.”

  “Not at all. You sound normal.”

  “Same thing. Want to know the most pressing thing in my life right now? I mean, besides the whole divorce, kids-won’t-talk-to-me, where-is-my-life-going-and-how-do-I-really-feel-about-dying-old-bitter-and-alone thing?”

  “There’s something else?”

  “Yeah. Hallelujah muffins.”

  “Hallelujah muffins.”

  “Yes. The neighborhood association has this big fundraiser every year called The Box Lunch. It’s a throwback straight from the past, where the women made a picnic lunch and the men bid on their sweetheart’s. So now the wives cook all this…” She waved a hand. “All this crap, and then the husbands come and bid on it, spending ridiculous amounts of money on food their wives make every day for free – or some of them do, I never was much of a cook – and all the women blush and preen and I swear to God it’s like something straight out of the fifties, it’s like something out of frigging Stepford or something, and every year I hate it but this year it’s absolute torture.”

  “Because you don’t have anyone to bid on your muffins.”

  “Exactly. It’s like being the last one picked for the team, times a thousand. Already the inevitable humiliation is keeping me up at night. And so Midge, the chairperson of the auction – and the one to reinstate the whole Box Lunch nightmare ten years ago – suggested I make the Hallelujah muffins because it’s her secret family recipe and they’re supposed to be charmed or some nonsense, everyone who makes them has some kind of good fortune, conceives a baby, gets a promotion, whatever. So in a moment of panic I agreed to make them this year, and now it’s driving me crazy because there’s all this pressure. Not only is everyone talking about my divorce and how sad I must be – I mean, is there any possibility other than that I would be devastated that Michael has left me? – and to top it off everyone’s going to be watching to make sure my muffins are snatched up by some unknown prince, riding in to save the day like a male Mother Teresa on a white horse, and what’s really going to happen is either A: -” She poked her fork into her pie. “They’ll be bid on by some greasy creep like Walter Powers whose wife left him a year and a half ago because he pokes his keys in his ears and then wipes it on his recliner, or B: they’ll sit there, a sad, sweating plate of muffins wrapped in color-coordinated plastic wrap, until someone else’s husband puts in a pity bid, and there will be jokes about ‘watch out for your man’, ‘Karen’s single again’, ha ha ha, when everyone will know it was all done just to keep me from looking like a complete loser. It’s all just too…” She looked up at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  The corner of his mouth tipped up. “I was just wondering what you taste like.”

  She choked on her pie.

  He rose and helpfully pounded her on the back. She tossed down a gulp of coffee and burned her tongue. Will called for a glass of water while she wheezed and gasped.

  “Sorry,” he said, when she’d quieted down enough for him to be heard. His grin told her he wasn’t sorry in the least. “I should have been more subtle.”

  “No, no, it wasn’t that. Men say that to me all the time. I must have just swallowed a coconut bone. Then I burned my tongue.”

  He laughed at her. Funny, it usually bothered her to be laughed at.

  He slid into the booth beside her. “How did a tight-ass like Michael end up with a woman like you?” He ran his thumb over her lower lip, and it was all she could do to keep from drooling.

  “I thought you understood that part. He knocked me up.”

  He laughed again and scooted closer. Oh, good Lord. His knee brushed against hers and for a wild moment she pictured the two of them having wild monkey sex right there on top of the Formica table, scattering plates and pie everywhere.

  “It’s just coffee, you know. You can quit looking so guilty.”

  “I’m not guilty. I mean…I look guilty?” If he knew what she’d been thinking…

  “Don’t ever take up poker.”

  Karen sighed and sat back against the booth. “I've been married for a long time. Half my life.” Was that all? Right now it felt like she'd been born married to Michael. She certainly couldn't remember thinking about slipping her hand into the waistband of any other man’s jeans, not like she was thinking about Will’s right now. “It feels weird, sitting here with someone else.”

  “You’ll get used to it.”

  She couldn’t seem to get past his eyes, focused on her as if everything about her fascinated him.

  “I’m sorry you didn’t get your tat,” he said

  “My what?” Had he just said something lewd?

  “Your tattoo.”

  “Oh, of course. Tattoo.”

  “I can see how that would have been an important symbol for you, with all you’re going through. If you want to come back tomorrow, I’ll do it on the house.”

  “Sure.” Although, after everything that had happened tonight, she wasn’t so sure a tattoo was what she needed. Maybe a new hairstyle instead.

  She leaned back in the booth and breathed deeply, feeling stuffed. “It would be horribly unladylike for me to unbutton my jeans, wouldn’t it?”

  He shrugged. “You’ve already unbuttoned them once tonight.”

  She laughed, too loud, then looked around the diner. “Is it really almost one-thirty?” she said when she spotted a clock. “You’ve got to be kidding me. No wonder I’m so exhausted.”

  He scooted to the edge of the bench. “It is late, even for me. I’ll walk you to your car.”

  The alley where her car was parked was dark, and a bit creepy. “Hmmm,” Karen said, talking over her sudden case of jitters. “This looks like a crime scene out of CSI, without the yellow tape and chalk.”

  Will put a hand on the small of her back and she felt somewhat better.

  “Don’t worry. I’m personal friends with all the derelicts in this part of town.”

  “Then maybe I ought to be worried about you.” She pulled her keys out of her jacket pocket when they reached her car. “I drive a Volvo, for crying out loud. I told you I was a yawner.”

  “At least it's a nice color.”

  “This color would look better on a Corvette. I'm trading it in tomorrow.”

  “Don't do anything rash.”

  “Like get a tattoo and get arrested?”

  “Yeah, all that crazy stuff people do when they get divorced.”

  She cocked her head and smiled. “Thanks for tonight.”

  “For which part? Not giving you the tattoo, or not getting you arrested?”

  “All of it. It was fun.”

  He stepped close. “Lady, you need to get out more.”

  “No argument here. Thanks for reminding me
that there's a whole world out there.”

  His eyes narrowed and she felt his gaze on her mouth. “How's your tongue?”

  “Still sore. I burned my lip, too.”

  She started to say something else, but stopped when she realized he was staring at her mouth with definite intention in his eyes. “Uhhh…”

  He cupped her jaw. His hand was big and warm and it felt so bizarre, having a man touch her who wasn't Michael, that she almost got hysterical and started to laugh again. She would have, if she'd been able to breathe.

  This is it! her mind screamed. This is it, a guy is going to kiss you, a guy you're not married to is going to kiss you, and what are you going to do about it?

  Apparently she was going to kiss him back. She raised her head and leaned toward him. His lips were strong and soft all at once, firm on hers as he enveloped her. She could not stop a small moan as he nuzzled her lips apart with his.

  Her heart bounced around in her rib cage and she felt lightheaded. She also felt good. Hey, I remember this. This is the good kind of kissing.

  It was a far cry from the pecks she and Michael had reduced themselves to over the last years of their marriage. This was kissing with a capital K that was an art all unto itself, kissing that actually led to something.

  She tilted her head and slid her hand around Will's back, exploring the feel of him under her palm. Yes, a voice in her head screamed that she was wrong wrong wrong to be kissing this man, she was still married and even if the divorce had been final it was trashy to be making out with some guy she’d just met.

  That voice droned on and on while the rest of her went about its merry way enjoying the hell out of this kiss.

  Will shifted until he had her leaning against the car door. He slid his hands to her waist, his thumbs resting just under her breasts, rubbing back and forth as his mouth worked magic on hers.

  She was going to stop, of course. She was. In just a second. She wasn't a complete idiot. She knew it was too soon to get involved with anyone. She shouldn’t be standing here with her nipples at attention, silently wishing he’d slide those hands just a little to the north. She was going to pull away and tell him she had to go home. Any second now…

  He stepped closer, and since she had nowhere to go he pushed closer into her. She felt him, warm and hard against her hip, and that voice that had been nagging her gasped, scandalized.

  She remembered that, too. That was lust. That was getting hot and bothered. It was all coming back to her now. Big time.

  She was going to pull away, but instead she palmed his back pockets and pulled him closer, feeling an itch she hadn't felt in a long time. His hands rose higher up on her ribs, and she mashed her chest against his, suddenly aching for the pressure.

  He moaned and ground against her, his need evident in the thick heat of his groin, the intensity of his kiss.

  She felt powerful, hot and alive. Need pulsed through her as she stroked his back and arms, indulging herself in the muscular feel. Michael who?

  Will lifted his head and looked around, then looked toward the back seat of her car. Oh my. Was he really...

  Why not? Michael had done it. Michael was probably doing it right now. He was actually living with someone else. And she wanted those hands on her, didn't she?

  Oh yeah. She wanted those hands on her.

  Still, when one of those hands slid up her ribs to cup the underside of her breast, her heart did a double time thump, and it wasn't all because of the thrill of it.

  What was she doing? Was this really what she wanted?

  Well, it was definitely what parts of her wanted, no doubt about that. That part was breathing heavy as she leaned into Will and opened her mouth to him.

  The rest of her, the part that had reminded her for nineteen years that she had vowed before God and man to love, honor and cherish, and she wasn't exactly honoring Michael by getting felt up under a streetlight by a guy she'd just met.

  But it feels so good. And I haven't felt good in months. Maybe years.

  You're still married. Even if it's a terminally ill marriage, even if it sucks great big spotted frogs, it's still a marriage.

  I'm a grown woman. I can make my own decisions.

  You're a mother!

  That did it. She cringed to think what she'd say if Pam or Cait could see her now. She ran through a list of excuses she could give Will for stopping things now, while she enjoyed just a few more seconds of this heaven.

  “Damn it!” Will pulled back suddenly, his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched.

  Karen stared, open-mouthed. “I didn’t even say anything yet.”

  Will shook his head and stepped back. “I can’t do it.”

  “Umm.” Karen felt herself blushing and looked pointedly at his crotch. “I thought you were doing pretty well.”

  “I can’t go through with this.” He ran a hand through his hair, making it stand out. “Look, I’m sorry. When I found out Michael was your husband, I thought I’d…” He heaved a great sigh.

  Karen crossed her arms over her chest, aware that she was still breathing like a porn star. Well. The situation had certainly taken a turn for the bizarre. She gritted her teeth, feeling like a fool. “I’m listening.”

  “When you said Michael was your husband, I thought…” His voice drifted off and he shrugged, looking embarrassed. “What a good way to get one over on him. I boink his wife and then tell him about it.”

  “Boink his wife?” Good Lord. She had been on the verge of being boinked.

  “I know, it sounds bad.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and suddenly looked twelve years old. “I’m sorry.”

  “You were going to boink me, but you couldn’t force yourself to go through with it?” Didn’t that make her feel all fluttery inside.

  “No. Everything was going fine, until you started talking about your kids, and you made me laugh with your muffins, and I realized you were someone I could really enjoy getting to know, someone I already liked. I can’t believe you’re married to that – to him.”

  “Sometimes I can’t quite believe it, either. Well, I’d better get going then, if we’re not going to boink or anything.” She turned and reached for the door handle.

  “Wait. Seriously.” He put a hand on her elbow. “I’m sorry.”

  “No problem. Don’t think a thing of it. I was just about to tell you to get your filthy hands off me anyway.” She shrugged his hand away and inserted the key in the lock, then turned back to him, her hand on her hip. “This – this is just –” She was sputtering. She closed her eyes and counted to three. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

  “I’m making no sense, I know. I just started to feel… sleazy.”

  “That’s kind of the point of making out in a back alley!”

  “Not that kind of sleazy. Bad sleazy. Like a creep. And you’re nice. You deserve better.”

  “Well thanks. I don’t think I have ever been so insulted and so flattered in all my life. Can this night get any weirder?”

  “God, I hope not. Look. Maybe we could meet for drinks sometime. Start over -- “ He stopped and looked at her. “What?”

  Karen bent double, laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe. She looked up at him, but his confused expression only served to throw her into a fresh fit of giggles. “You want to have drinks sometime? Okay, sure, we’ll have drinks sometime. No problem.”

  He chewed his bottom lip. “I can see that you're upset.”

  “Upset?!? Do I look upset?” she shrieked. Did this situation call for a kick in the balls? She thought it just might.

  “Just a little!” he shouted back, his voice bouncing off the brick walls of the alley. “Look, I can't tell you how sorry I am. Like I told you at the police station, Michael has it in for me and he's been making my life hell. When I found out you were his wife, I seized on the first thought that came to mind.”

  “Oh yeah. The boinking idea.”

  He put his finger over her mouth. “Stop. I already
feel like a jerk.”

  “You sound like a jerk. A jerk in the ninth grade. Boink?”

  “I know.” He stepped back and frowned. “I'd like a chance to show you that it was an aberration. I've really enjoyed the evening. I'd like to spend more time with you. Boinkless time, I promise.” He held his palms up.

  She wanted to slap him. But he looked sincerely remorseful. Of course, she'd been married to Michael for nineteen years. She wouldn’t recognize genuineness if it walked up and spit on her. But still… “Not many ninth-graders use words like aberration,” she said grudgingly.

  “Is it possible to get a do-over on this?”

  “You've seen my naked butt and felt my breast. I don't think we can pretend that never happened.”

  “There were two other women in the room when I saw your butt. And I felt your breast through your shirt and bra. That hardly counts.”

  She raised an eyebrow. It had counted to her. He rubbed his palm against the leg of his jeans, as if he still felt her there.

  Karen sighed and cocked her head. “Michael would have been furious.”

  “I know.”

  “It would have been the perfect revenge.”

  “I know that too.”

  “So why did you change your mind?”

  He stepped a foot closer, and the streetlight caught the burnished gold tints in his hair and limned his profile. “Because somewhere along the way it became less about Michael and more about you.”

  Her heart turned over in her chest. Idiot, she thought. You're too quick to forgive. “You're making it difficult for me to maintain my righteous indignation.”

  “Oh, you can be righteously indignant.” He tilted his head and his gaze roamed over her face, looking endearingly vulnerable. “Just say you'll see me again.”

  She blew her breath out in a gust and lifted her chin. “I don't know about that. But I have decided not to kick you in the balls.”

  He blinked. “Well, that's a start.”

  She slumped against the car and rubbed a hand over her eyes. “I am exhausted.”

  “It’s late.”

  “I have to go home.”