C's Comeuppance: A Bone Cold--Alive novel (21 page)

“No.” Mandy pouted and stuck out her lower lip.

Did all these females look alike? C could trace that stuck out lower lip through three generations, and the sigh that fell from Mandy’s lips could have been made by any of the Lovelace women.

Mandy scuffed her tennis shoes on the vinyl flooring. “Are you going to come Friday?”

She looked right at him and C met her with a blank stare. “Come where?” He knitted his brows and stared back at her. “Is your head okay?”

“Her head’s fine.” Jemma stood behind her niece and kneaded her shoulders gently. “I haven’t had a chance to ask him yet.”

“Ask me what?” C straightened in his chair, the smell of a cover-up perking his senses. “What’s Friday?”

“Are you going to ask him?” Mandy turned accusatory eyes on her aunt. “You said you would.”

“Ask me what?”

“I haven’t had a chance.”

“Well, what have you been doing all this time?”

“Yeah, Jemma, what have we been doing?” He raised his eyebrows. “Ask me what? And I could use a shoulder rub when you finish with her.” He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck bones. Jessie shivered at the sound.

“You sound like a stuck record.”

“Ask me—”

“Mandy wanted to know if you’d—”

“I mean,” the girl took over the conversation, “I thought it was only right if I was going to bump my head from fainting when I see Aunt Jemma and you kissing like that—oops! sorry, Grandma.” She stole a look at the older woman whose lips seemed to be set in a permanent straight line. “I thought it only
fair
that you make it up to me by coming to the homecoming dance Friday night and dancing with the queen and the court. Aunt Jemma was supposed to ask you.”

C smiled at her. “And are you part of the court?”

“Well, now that you mention it…” her voice trailed off, “but I won’t be queen because I’m not a senior.”

“But I could start by dancing with you?”

“Charles, you’d really consider it?”

“Sounds like a hoot!” He reached over and picked up Mandy’s hand. “But only if I can dance with you first.”

Jemma caught her as she slid out of the chair.

***

“Pleasure to have met you, Mrs. Lovelace. See you, Manda-bear.”

Jemma pushed on C’s back and steered him out the kitchen door. Under normal circumstances, the chilled night air would have made her shiver, but not tonight, not with her temper rising in direct proportion to his idea of fun-and-games.

“What’s wrong?” He laughed at her and caught her right hand as she pulled the kitchen door to with her left.

“What’s wrong? They’ll have to double the guard once it’s known that Eddie C’s going to a high school homecoming dance.”

“Well, I didn’t go to any of my own. Just making up for lost time. I might be able to talk T into coming and we could jam with the band. Or do they just have deejays?”

“You are very close to impossible.”

“I’d rather just be close to you.” He turned from his head start down the steps and faced her. She saw his eyes flit to the kitchen window above the sink. “We have an audience.”

He stood a step below her and their noses were almost even. Jemma could feel his breath on her upper lip. “Mother and Mandy are spying, in other words.”

“In other words, it’ll look real strange if you don’t put your arms around my neck.” He settled his arms loosely around her waist and drew her nearer. It was either have her arms trapped at her sides or put them around his neck. She scooted her hands up his arms and across his shoulders, let her fingers wander up the sides of his neck, let them outline the edges of his ears before settling there. Two could play this game.

He caught his breath. “Promise me you’ll let your tongue do that some day.”

“I only have to find you un-charming for five more days, and after the kitchen table performance you just gave, that may not be as difficult as you believe.”

“You think you’re made of sterner stuff than you really are.”

“You have no idea of my stern stuff.”

He looked down at her. “Nor you of mine.”

“Okay, so it’s a draw. I believe it’s time to say goodnight, Charles.”

“Yes, it is.” He tightened his hold on her. “And our audience is going to be sincerely disappointed if you don’t kiss me goodnight.”

“At the moment, I do not want nor need a kiss from you. Our position is sufficient for our audience, half of whom is outraged by the fact that I’m still out here and the other half of whom has too much libido for her own good anyhow.”

“I beg to differ.” His right hand began a slow ascent up her back. “Consider this a freebie. For the cause. Trust me, I wouldn’t do it just for my own pleasure.” His lips touched hers. “Or yours.”

Jemma tried to ignore the feelings that coursed through her body, the heat that rose from some forgotten place and finally found release through her hands. Before she knew it, the traitorous appendages had wound themselves into his hair and her mouth had opened to his and if they hadn’t had the kitchen sink audience, she felt her entire body would have opened to him. He brought feelings and emotions back to her she’d thought dormant if not dead.

The kiss ended with them both searching for breath. A hand circled her neck and one rode between her shoulders. “Damn, Jemma, we’d better be alone when you finally cash that marker for a kiss.”

“Charles, I’m sorry—”

He put his hands on her cheeks and held her ever so gently away from him. “Don’t ever apologize for what you feel, Jemma. Not to me.” He kissed her eyelids. “If I’d felt like this with someone two months ago, I’d have had her flat on her back already. But with you, and God help me I don’t know why, with you, it’s different.”

Chapter Nineteen

T
he knock on her bedroom door was light. Jemma looked up from her book as Mandy poked her head in.

“Can I come in, Aunt Jemma?”

“Sure, sweetie.” Jemma glanced quickly at her alarm clock; it was past midnight. She usually had little trouble going to sleep, but tonight she couldn’t turn off her mind. Her body was on its own special little rampage, heating up each time she thought of C’s kiss. She scooted higher in the bed, plumping the pillows at her back. “Is something wrong with Granddaddy?”

“Oh, no, I just couldn’t sleep and I wanted to talk to you. Can I get in bed?”

“Sure. Did your mom and dad call from San Antonio?” Jemma held the covers back on the other side of her childhood double bed and Mandy hopped beneath the antique quilt.

“Yeah, but Daddy was upset ’cause Mama made him detour to some decorating place in Salado. She’s already working on ideas for Lyla’s staircase next Christmas.” She punched at the pillows and piled them under her head, lying on her back and crossing her arms over her breasts.

“Next Christmas? A year from now?” As Mandy nodded, Jemma remembered a snatch of conversation from earlier in the evening. “Not the spiral staircase from the Brady place? Lyla has that?” Of course, that would explain how C knew all about it.

“Daddy said they practically stole it. But then he says his bank would never have been caught holding that property.”

“I’m sure. So, what’s up?”

She turned abruptly toward Jemma and propped her head up on one arm, took a conspiratorial tone. “I want to know about you and Eddie C. Have you done it yet?”

Jemma raised her eyebrows. “Done what, Miss Nosey?”

“C’mon, Aunt Jemma, you know what I mean. The deed! The horizontal dance of love.” She lowered her voice.

Jemma’s mouth dropped open. “Mandy, you’re asking me it I’ve had intercourse with a man I met less than two weeks ago who has a reputation as a womanizer and profligate?”
“Player, Aunt Jemma. The word is player. Anyway, don’t be so shocked! It’s not like you shook his hand tonight. I can read body language. You were really into that kiss.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ve slept with him.”

A smile tweaked Mandy’s lips. “Sleep? Aunt Jemma, women don’t sleep with Eddie C, they make love all night long.”

“What do they print in those magazines you read?”

“Well, not that. I mean,
that’s
common knowledge. You can just see it on their faces. They’re always so happy and he’s hugging them and they’re holding so close…”

“And the next week there’s another woman and another short-lived relationship. Read my lips: commitment. Look at your parents. Look at Grandma and Granddaddy.”

“Why would you have to be a short-lived relationship? Lyla isn’t. Look at her and Eddie T. Don’t you think they’re committed?”

“Yes, I believe they’re committed to each other and their family. So what are you concerned about? That I’m,” she ticked the points off on her fingers, “going to have an affair? That I’m not? That I’ll get hurt? That I can’t protect myself from that? That I’ll find a committed relationship with a man who can barely commit from one week to the next? That I won’t?”

“Well, it just seems so strange, y’know, Aunt Jemma? All these years and you’ve never had a boyfriend that I know of and nobody seems to try and fix you up any more, although Daddy said once they did, but no man was ever good enough. Mama says if she didn’t know better, she’d think you were a lesbian. I’ve always wanted to know how she knows better.” Mandy lowered her eyes and picked at the quilt top, traced the outline of the double wedding ring pattern. “You’re not, are you? I mean, you can’t be, the way you were kissing Eddie C and he was kissing you. I thought Grandma was going to go down the kitchen drain!”

“Mandy, you’re giving me a headache.” Jemma closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the four-poster headboard.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“C’mon, Aunt Jemma, you can’t just stop the conversation there. Answer!”

Jemma rolled her head to look at her niece. “Mandy, I am not a lesbian. In your brief lifetime, I’ve just not found a man I want to do the dance of love with. Just because I seem on the verge of senility at the ripe old age of thirty-seven does not mean my fires cannot still be stoked!” Mandy snickered and Jemma pulled a strand of her hair in reply.

“Mama’ll just die! She leaves town and you take a lover!”

“Mandy, I swear—”

“Oh, Aunt Jemma, you don’t have to pretend to get so upset!” Mandy threw the covers off and slipped out of bed. “It’s not like I was asking for details!” She walked primly to the bedroom door and turned back to Jemma, pulled herself into her best imitation of her grandmother. “I only want what’s best for you. That’s all any of us want, Daddy or Mama, Grandma. I mean, you act like I was—” she sought the word “—prying!” She clicked the door closed behind her.

Pretend? Who was pretending? Jemma found herself caught between anger and embarrassment for her foolishness in even attempting a conversation with the child. And Mandy—acting like an inquisitor queen! Shades of Doree! Shades of Jessie!

She turned the light off and stacked the pillows around the hollow she’d created for herself in the old mattress. As she got warm, she drifted off to sleep. She knew it was only her imagination, but somewhere in the early morning hours, she swore she could feel his kiss again through her dreams.

***

The smoke drifted lazily upward, rising to the top of the sagging porch before dispersing to a point of invisibility. C took another deep draw on the cigarette he held pinched between thumb and forefinger and exhaled through his nose. Some vices were just too good to be banished altogether.

“Why, you ol’ son of a gun, caught you smoking!” The kitchen screen door scraped open as Norm came out on the porch. “Thought you gave that vice up, boy. Made for a pretty speech, I’ll give you that.”

“Didn’t mean to wake you up, old man. But now that you are, have a seat. Have a smoke. Have a drink.” C indicated the rocker beside his. He leaned forward, his elbows balanced on his knees, the cigarette never more than an inch from his lips, the crystal tumbler between his feet, the bottle of whiskey between the chairs.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Norm settled into the old rocker and reached for the bottle. “Gentleman Jack. Well, you do buy good stuff, boy. And using real glasses. Where did you come up with these?” He held up the tumbler, eyed it. “Oh, yeah, Edna brought these back from one of those East European countries she and Bertie invaded before the Curtain fell. Used to be four of them, I think. Or six. When I broke a couple, she hid the rest.”

C nodded. “Had to dig deep in that far cupboard, but the Gentleman, he don’t get drunk out of plastic cups.”

“But he do get drunk neat.” Norm laughed low in his throat and nudged the discarded pack of cigarettes with his foot. “Either we like the same brand or you’re borrowing.”

“Couldn’t very well buy a pack after bragging I gave them up. And I did break the habit, honest. But ever once in a while, the need is so great.” He took a deep draw, savored the last of it, flicked the butt onto the gravel drive. “I’ll replace them next time I’m in—”

“No need, no need. We’ll call it even.” He sipped the whiskey and rocked back in the chair. “It’s after midnight. Don’t suppose you’re going to tell me about the kind of evening you’ve had that’s driven you to drink and smoke.” He watched C reach for the pack, dig out the last cigarette. “Usually if I’m taking a vice back up, it’s because I’ve been frustrated somewheres else. You get my drift?”

“Loud and clear.” He struck the match on the porch rail and watched the flame burn down until it touched his fingers. Tossing it the way of the discarded butt, he put the unlit cigarette back in the pack. “Now that you’re awake, I can say good-bye to that vice again.” He reached down beside the rocker and retrieved a clarinet. “Look what I found behind the tumblers.”

Norm’s eyes narrowed. “Wondered where Edna’d hidden that. She probably had to get on a ladder to roll it to the back of a cupboard.”

C nodded. “It was a reach for me. I take it it’s yours, then?” He put the instrument to his lips, blew a sweet, soft note. “Do you mind if I take my frustrations out with music and not smoke? I got to meet Miz Lovelace tonight. Didn’t get permission to call her Jessie.”