Love Handles (27 page)

He heard her sigh behind him. He grinned all the way back to his office, anticipating.

Chapter 17

“C
an you help me move this over by the window?” Bev bent over to pick up one end of the sofa.

“Put that down,” Kate said. “I know you're stressed, but that's no way to work it out. It's Friday night. Sit down and make some of this tea for yourself. It's loaded with calming herbs. Then we'll go for a run.”

“Forget it. I barely recovered from the last time.”

“Which was all that tool's fault for trying to break into my car,” she said. “I can't believe you haven't fired him yet.”

Luckily for Bev's peace of mind, Kate was too self-absorbed to guess what Bev had done with the tool a few days earlier. She bent over to drag the sofa herself, but it slipped and thudded onto the floor at an asymmetrical angle. “Come on, just help me get it over there.”

“You had it over there ten minutes ago. I'm not letting myself get pulled into some psychotic break.” Kate sat on the sofa in question. “What happened to you, anyway? All week you've been hiding in your room, and now you're rearranging furniture. I'd say it was some guy, but it could hardly be that, this soon and with you working all the time. And what's the point with that? It's not like you can get fired.”

Bev tried to tip her sister out of the sofa but gave up, plopping down at the other end. She stretched out her legs and used Kate's lap as a footrest. “I'm trying to keep Fite from going out of business.” She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “Thanks for your support.”

Kate made a rude noise. “I'm here, aren't I? He hasn't broken in once since I got here.”

Bev sighed. “He didn't even before you got here.”

“Face it, Bev. You're stupid when it comes to really built guys. He's got means and motive. It's the only explanation.”

“Aunt Ellen—”

“I'll let Mom explain why it isn't Ellen. You assumed it was her, which is one reason I can excuse you for falling for another Rand clone. He's even got the same beady little eyes. Like raisins.”

Rand was the last good-looking guy she swore off. But he was easy to forget, not like—she gritted her teeth. “He's nothing like Rand. Nothing.” Beady little eyes—hardly. Liam’s were like deep pools of melted chocolate. Pushing aside that image, she sat upright with a start. “What do you mean, you'll let Mom explain?”

“When she gets here.” Kate looked at her watch. “She left after the morning rush, so I'm guessing any minute we'll be seeing her sunny Botoxed face. And don't look like that. If I'd told you, imagine how stressed you would have been, and it wouldn't have done any good because she was totally coming, like it or not. Ever since Ellen called her last week she's been all freaking out about getting in touch with her youth and shit.”

Mouth dry, Bev slipped her feet off her sister's lap and stood up. “Since Ellen called?” she asked. “Any minute? And you didn't tell me?”

“Well, look at you freaking out. Totally my point.”

Bev sucked in a deep breath. At least she'd be too busy to think about Liam. “I have to clean the bathroom. No, the kitchen. You clean the bathroom and tell me everything Mom said about Ellen.” Bev took Kate's mug out of her hands and jerked her to her feet. “The Bon Ami is under the sink with the sponge.”

“I am so not getting between you and Mom and Ellen. If you want the gory details you can ask her when she gets here. Something about having a baby.” Kate pulled her blond hair up on top of her head and slipped the rubber band around her wrist down to make a floppy ponytail while she walked into the bathroom. “Get us each a beer, why don't you? And crank up the tunes.”

Baby?
Bev followed Kate into the bathroom. “Who's having a baby?” Ellen was younger than Gail by a couple years, but was in her late forties. Still, stranger things had happened. “Ellen is having a baby?”

“Well, it's not me.” Kate squatted down below the sink for the cleaning supplies. “Seriously though, get me a beer. Nobody should have their head in a toilet when they're sober.”

Her mother would be there soon. She wasn't nice, but at least she was coherent. Giving up on Kate, she went into the kitchen, got her sister a beer—and after a second thought, one for herself—and tackled the pile of dishes in the sink.

While the water ran she sucked down two swallows of beer and squirted dish soap over the dishes. Where was her mother going to sleep? How the hell long was she going to stay? Kate came in, threw her empty bottle in the recycling can, and got another beer out of the fridge.

“I hear a car,” she said. “Just thought you should know.”

“This is good,” Bev said. “Having Mom and Ellen talking to each other is good. It's why I came up here in the first place.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” Kate washed her hands and opened a cupboard. “What's for dinner, anyway? Mom will want something when she gets here.”

“Yet another reason you should have told me. Jesus.” Bev looked at the bottle in her hand, imagined her mother's face when she learned there wasn't a gourmet meal waiting—let alone TiVo, Indonesian coffee beans, six-hundred-thread-count sheets, or Pilates machines—and decided to tackle the problem through the haze of fermented grains. She threw back her head and chugged the beer, reminding herself Gail Roche Lewis Torres wasn't a bad person—just a bad mother. To Gail, unconditional love was just lazy. To criticize was to care.

Sufficiently buzzed, Bev weaved through the house to the front door, stifled a giggle when she saw the misaligned couch, which made her think of Liam in his sleeping bag, who said he’d see her tonight, when her mother would be here.

She flung open the door, expecting a pretty fifty-year-old woman with Michelle Obama biceps, only to get the big, unpredictable hunk with chocolate eyes.

“Thank God!” She threw her arms around him and pressed her face against his chest. She inhaled his rich, manly smell. He hesitated for a second then put his arms around her and stroked her hair.

“Hi,” he said. His sweater felt like cashmere under her cheek. She squeezed him harder, and he chuckled. “Easy, easy. My ribs are cracking.”

Loosening her hold, she closed the front door to hide from her sister. The evening air was cold, but he was warm and had a way of touching her that soothed and excited her all at the same time. His mouth was so perfect, right there under his nose. She reached up and stroked his lower lip with her thumb, dipping it inside. “You have such cute teeth.”

He rolled his eyes but gave an embarrassed, boyish smile, and she felt her heart swell in her chest. “You have cute teeth too,” he said, and brushed his lips along hers. He slipped his tongue past the seam of her mouth and licked and twisted inside her, and she forgot about her heart and had dark, thoughtless thoughts that began low in her body and ended lower.

“Not here,” he said, voice deep. He tried to move into the house, but she stopped him with another embrace, savoring the sound of his pounding heartbeat, wishing he was somebody else, somebody she could keep.

She sighed and looked past his shoulder. “You better go. My mother will be here any minute.”

Liam buried his face in her hair. “Let’s both ditch our mothers,” he said. “Want to catch a movie?”

“You mean, like a date?”

He lowered his lips to her ear. “Too fast for you? We could have sex first, if you're not ready.”

She slipped her hand down the outside of his jeans until she found the patch pocket and nestled her hand inside, enjoying the curve of his butt. Her head spun and her lips felt dry, so she licked them, noticing how his gaze tracked the motion of her tongue—

Her mother's white Lexus SUV pulled into the driveway, blasting three long, impatient honks.

“Oh, my God,” Bev said, spinning out of Liam's arms. “Go. Go! Before she sees you.”

“Too late,” Liam said roughly. Chest heaving, he moved away from her another step, shoving his hands in his pockets. The driver’s side door popped open, Beyoncé blaring, then the car fell silent. He said under his breath, “So what’s our story? I came over for a cup of sugar?”

“I was kind of wondering that myself.”

He ran his hand through his hair. “I’m your top VP. Make something up.”

Gail walked around the hood, pale hair flowing back behind her head in the wind, and scowled, wrapping her arms around herself. “It’s freezing!” Then, seeing Bev wasn’t alone, she took in Liam’s good looks with a slow, head-to-toe perusal and stopped dead. Bev felt her face turn red.

“Cup of sugar,” Bev muttered. “I’ll go get it.”

“Wait. It gets worse.” He jerked his head to the side. “Here comes another one.”

She glanced over his shoulder and saw Trixie trotting over with a herd of her miniature dogs, waving both hands like windshield wipers in a downpour. “Ahoy there!”

Bev waved back and, unable to think of anything else to do, laughed.

“Really, Bev,” Gail said, coming up the stairs while she smoothed down her hair. Her eyes shifted to Liam again, and her face adopted the toothy, enthusiastic, vaguely sexy expression she used whenever the lens cap came off a nearby camera. “Hello?”

“Mom, this is Liam Johnson, from Fite. His mother lives next door,” Bev paused, covering her mouth to stifle a giggle. “Liam, this is Gail, my mother.”

“Really, Bev.” Gail studied Liam for another long moment before she held out her hand to him, fingers limp.

“Hello.” Liam managed to take her hand in his and release it without making it obvious she had made him do all the work. “Pardon me, I was just leaving. Beverly, thank you for the signature.” Then he patted his chest as though he had tucked an important contract inside.

Trixie led the dogs up onto the sidewalk and marched up the driveway, not hesitating as she maneuvered around the Lexus and trotted up the steps to the porch to join them. “How wonderful. More mouths to feed.”

Bev heard a low, pained grunt coming from Liam’s direction.

“Signature?” Gail asked. “For what? And why are we all standing out here in the cold? Is there another problem with the locks?”

Giving the dogs the pleasure of sniffing at everyone’s ankles, Trixie came up to Liam’s side and beamed at Bev’s mother. “You must be Gail Roche. Here I told your daughter you were dead. Obviously not! My goodness, you look fifteen.” She held up her hands to her neck and pinched the flap of skin under her chin. “I call this my turkey wattle. Without it I’d look twenty years younger, but still not as pretty as you. My goodness.”

Liam’s eyes were closed, and Bev saw the muscles in his jaw twitch. Gail, softened by the compliment, smiled at Trixie then grabbed the handle on the front door and pushed it open.

“Please excuse me,” Gail said. “I’ve been on the road all day and my blood sugar is low. Beverly?”

“But that’s why I came over,” Trixie said. “I didn’t know you were here, of course—that’s quite a shock, actually, since in all these years I’ve never met you. But Liam disappeared again and I didn’t want them to think I didn’t know what was going on. Not that I’m going to make a fuss, but I hate secrets. Don’t you, Gail? Such a waste of energy, and ultimately so destructive.”

Twisting around in the doorway, Gail frowned at her and Bev. “Really, Beverly,” she said, annoyed but uncomprehending. She smiled tightly and looked into the house. “Isn’t Kate here? Kate!”

“We’ll be going now.” Liam took his mother’s arm and tried to lead her down the steps.

“Not without insisting everyone comes over for dinner. Are you a vegetarian, Gail?”

“No, but—”

“Then you must come over for my famous chicken lasagna. Your daughter has become like family to us. Both of my sons are crazy about her, though of course I’m not supposed to talk about that sort of thing. Sorry, honey.” She smiled at Bev.

“Oh, I’m fine,” Bev assured her, feeling wobbly during her out-of-body experience.

Kate appeared in the doorway. “Oh, my God! Those are frickin’ awesome dogs!” She fell down to the ground and held out her hands. “Are these the little guys I hear next door?”

“This must be your other daughter. What beautiful girls,” Trixie said. Her smile grew crafty. “I’ve got more pups back at the house, and they love to make new friends.”

Liam muttered something unintelligible under his breath, then, more loudly, “Mother, please. Let’s leave them to their reunion in private.”

“How do you care for so many dogs at a time?” Kate asked.

“Oh, I work with a rescue group. I shouldn’t have so many at once, but soon a few of them will have new homes.”

“Oh, oh!” Kate said, eyes lighting up. “What do I have to do to get one?”

Gail stared at Liam as though she’d just realized who he was. “You’re the Olympic swimmer. My father’s protégé.”

He paused. “Yes. I worked for your father for many years.”

“And now for us,” Gail said.

“Us?” Bev snorted, then swallowed it when her mother grabbed her arm and squeezed the tendons above her elbow.

Her smile not betraying the pain she was inflicting upon her child, Gail beamed at Trixie. “Fite has always been a family business. I’m very glad to meet your famous son—and so much sooner than I’d hoped.”

“Can I come over and see the other puppies?” Kate asked.

Bev jumped in, alarm bells ringing. “Mom, you’ve been on the road all day, you must be tired—”

“Mark just came back to the nest for a while,” Trixie said. “Which is why I made such a feast, but my boys don’t eat like they used to, and I’d really appreciate your help—all of you—in helping us put it away.”

“It would be our pleasure,” Gail said. “We’ll be over in a few minutes.”

Bev and Liam’s eyes met in shared pain.

Chapter 18

“H
eads up, Mark.” Liam strode into his brother’s bedroom and flicked on the overhead light. He was plugged into a computer in the corner with his headphones on and bowl of neon-red Cheetos at his side, and blinked up at Liam like a child coming out of a dream.

“Was there an earthquake?” He took off his headphones.

“More like an invasion. Mom’s invited the neighbors, and they’re all female.” Liam looked him over, shaking his head at the sight. “Thought I’d give you a chance to freshen up.”