Love Handles (28 page)

“Bev’s coming over?”

The eagerness in his voice made Liam cringe, in part from recognition. Liam was just as pathetic, but better at hiding it. Glad Bev couldn’t see him, Liam grabbed the bowl of Cheetos and scooped a handful into his mouth. “And her sister. And her mother.” He peered down at an open suitcase on the floor overflowing with t-shirts and boxers and jeans. He was pretty sure the sour smell he was inhaling was coming from there. “Got anything to wear that doesn’t stink? You’ll spoil my dinner.” Then again, he wouldn’t have to worry about Bev finding him attractive.

“Sister?” he asked. “Is she as nice as Bev?”

Liam hesitated only for a moment before smiling. “Nicer, even.”

Mark clicked off his monitor and spun around in his seat. “Do I have time to shave?”

“Time before what?”

“Before they get here.”

“Oh, they’re already here, drinking the new Shiraz.”

The visible anxiety in his brother’s face never failed to amaze Liam. Mark was a good-looking guy, brilliant, and when he was relaxed, totally charming. But his self-confidence was crippled. Their father had given what little patience he had with children to Liam, and only then when he showed signs of paying him back for some of the effort, like a business investment. Mark had simply never paid out.

“I’ll sit next to you if you want.” Liam slapped Mark on the shoulder.

Mark bent over and picked a t-shirt out of the pile. Sniffed it, frowned, chose another. He tore off the shirt he was wearing and dropped it into the suitcase, then turned his attention to his pants. “Jeans okay?”

“They’ve got stains all down the front.”

“It’s just coffee.”

“Still, a stickler might suggest a fresh pair.”

“Ah.” He unbuttoned the fly and let them drop.

Trixie flew into the room. “Liam! Where did you go?” Bev was right behind her. At least, until she saw Mark and ducked back into the hallway. “Oh, nice of you to change for dinner, honey,” Trixie added.

“Mom!” Mark pulled his pants back up, his chest and face flushing red. He looked like he might be sick.

Trixie said, “I wanted Bev to see the fog rolling in. This room has the best view.”

Liam frowned at his her, suspicious. “Her house next door points in the same direction. I imagine she’s seen it.”

“No reason to be shy,” Trixie told Mark in a stage whisper. “You have a lovely body.”

Mark turned his anguished eyes on Liam, who felt a little guilty for laughing. “Go ahead,” Liam said. “Lose the pants too. You’re lovely.”

“Trixie?” Bev called from the hallway. “Who made these monoprints? They’re amazing!”

“Do you really think so?” Trixie left her sons and joined Bev in the hallway. “I made those ages ago at the art cent—”

Liam strode over and pulled the door shut, slipped the lock he’d installed in high school, laughing. “You can count on Bev.”

Mark was staring at him. “You’ve got a thing for her.” He found an indistinguishable replacement t-shirt in the suitcase and pulled it over his head. “Don’t you?”

Liam laughter trailed off. “Yes.”

“Does she—forget it. Of course she does.”

“I slept with her. I’m trying to repeat the experience.”

Mark crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you love her?”

Liam laughed. “Jesus, Mark. I only met her a few weeks ago.”

“That’s long enough. I would know.”

Unfortunately Mark fell in love as often as Liam fell in bed. “You need to protect yourself better.”

“I don’t understand you,” Mark said. “The one thing I want and don’t have a clue how to get, and you—you have to fight it off with a stick. Like it’s a disease you don’t want to catch.”

“Not a disease. More like exposure to a virus that once you’ve got the antibodies, you test positive for the rest of your life. I’m just—delaying that particular inoculation.”

“It’s not fair,” Mark said. He walked over to the mirror on the back of the closet door and scowled at himself, turning this way and that, licking his palm and smoothing down his hair. “I’m such a catch.”

Liam walked over and tucked the label of his brother’s t-shirt out of sight. Smiling, he rested his hands on his shoulders and squeezed. “Especially when you don’t do your laundry for months. And spend all your time online. Chicks really dig that.”

Mark jerked his elbow back to jab him in the ribs, then walked over to the door. “You said the sister’s nice?”

“That’s what I said.” Liam followed him out into the hall, which his mother had already emptied to regroup for her next attack, and walked down the stairs thinking about viruses.

L
iam’s mouth was at her ear. “Want another drink to deaden the pain?”

The feel of his breath made her jump. Beer, wine, Liam. She looked up into his warm brown eyes and held up her empty wine glass. “Just water this time, please.” She glanced at her mother at the other end of the table next to Mark. “Your poor brother.”

Liam frowned. “Don’t worry about him.”

“You do.”

“I’m his brother. You can put him out of your mind.”

She heard the jealous edge in his voice and laughed.

Kate walked in with an elfin dog in her hand and a huge grin on her face. “He likes me!”

Trixie smiled and looked over. “He’s a she, sweetheart.” She pointed a serving spoon at the little dog's underside. “No boy parts, see? All right, the chow’s all here. Thank you so much for joining us tonight. I hope you don’t mind if I’ve lit a little memorial candle for your father. We’re not religious, but I did so appreciate what he did for Liam when my husband died. He was a difficult man—my husband I mean, though your father was no saint himself, as you know—and sadly for my kids, a much better husband than a father. So I was very grateful to Ed.” She dug into the casserole, scooped up a mound of steaming tomato sauce and pasta, smiling at Gail. “Lasagna?”

Hiding her amusement at the sight of Gail's strained smile, Bev turned her head to see Mark return with a block of Parmesan. He was trying to get a good look at Kate, who had sat next to Bev and was still devoting every scrap of attention to the dog. “Hi,” he said to her, then cleared his throat. “I'm Mark. Liam's brother.”

Kate flicked her eyes over him once. “Sucks to be you,” she said, returning her attention to the dog. Mark frowned and looked at Liam, who was up to something because he shrugged but looked amused in a bad way.

Gail reached forward and took a teaspoonful of lasagna, studying it in the deliberate way she did all her food so she could record the portions in her online calorie counter. “Thank you. It's funny we should meet so quickly. Ironically, I was just talking about your son—” she tilted her head at Liam but didn't look at him, “—with my sister. Have you met my sister Ellen?”

With both hands outstretched for the salad bowl, Bev froze. “You've been talking to Ellen about
Liam
?” Her voice came out too loud for the table.

“Really, Bev,” Gail said, took a nibble of the lasagna, and smiled politely at Gail. “This is fabulous. Thank you. I knew it was too much to hope that Bev would prepare a decent meal. The only thing I've eaten all day is a BurnBar and Diet Coke.”

Trixie opened her mouth, then glanced at Liam and snapped it shut.

Liam passed her the Parmesan. “How’s Ellen? Her departure was so . . . sudden.”

“She is fantastic.” Eyes bright, Gail brought her hand to her face and looked up at the ceiling. Sighing, she glanced at Bev. “Everything has changed. I told Kate all about it. Johnny’s going to be a father—not married yet, but Ellen will take care of that.” She smiled at Trixie. “Johnny is my nephew, Ellen’s son. Bev, there is so much for us to talk about. You were right about so many things.”

Bev was finding it difficult to swallow her mouthful of lettuce. “I was?”

“Ellen told me how you refused to leave the company to her unless we reunited as a family. She flew to L.A. just to tell me that. At first she just wanted me to get you back home, but then we got to talking and laughing and
crying
—” Gail glanced at Trixie again and rolled her eyes, “and then it was like we were fifteen again. Which is why I've come up now to let you off the hook.” She glanced at Liam. “Both of you. Do you have any sisters, Trixie?”

“I’m afraid not,” Trixie said.

A swirling, sinking whirlpool of dread formed in Bev's stomach. “I am not on a hook. And that’s not what I told—”

Gail put down her wine glass with a thump and caught Trixie’s eye. “Ever since she was little, Bev wanted a different family. I think it’s why she chose to work with children.” She returned her gaze to Bev. “With me and Ellen here, you can go back to where you belong with a clear conscience.”

Not now,
Bev thought, shoving a forkful of lasagna into her mouth, frantically trying to think of how to extract herself and her mother from the table.

But Gail went on. “Now, Kate—Fite would be perfect for you. You're at a perfect point to start a new career.” She slipped the fork into her mouth and shook her head. “My, this is delicious.”

“I belong here,” Bev said. “At Fite. Here. All of it.”

“Really, Bev,” her mother replied.

Teeth clenched, Bev looked around the table at the curious faces hanging on the exchange. Mark seemed unhappy and confused. Trixie was busy keeping the plates moving around the table, trying to communicate something to Liam, who had stopped pretending to eat and sat with both arms crossed over his chest.

“Leave me out of it,” Kate said. “I've decided to work with dogs.”

Gail reached over and squeezed her hand. “But you could do both. Oh—I've got it! Fite doesn't have a pet line yet, does it?”

“No, and there never will be,” Liam said.

Gail turned and gave him an icy stare. “That’s up to the owners to decide.”

“No, it’s up to the market,” he said. “Dog clothes would ruin us.”

“Management is going to have to think outside the box for a change,” Gail said.

“Management is going to do a lot of things, none of them involving domesticated animals.”

Kate tapped Bev on the shoulder. “By the way, I think Ball might be sick. Right before I came over here I noticed her spitting up her dinner.”

Torn between concern for her elderly cat and the hostilities unfolding at the table, Bev nodded at her sister and tried to catch her mother’s eye.

Gail was too busy staring at Liam to notice. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want all your hard work to go to waste. That kind of old thinking has led the company into bankruptcy.” Then she seemed to remember where she was, turning to Trixie with an apologetic smile. “So sorry to talk business. I’m sure we can continue this conversation at the office on Monday.”

Bev’s hands closed into fists. “At the office?”

“And who is Ball, honey?” Trixie asked, passing the green beans. “Some kind of pet?”

“My cat,” Bev said, the whirlpool in her stomach churning faster. Her mother wanted to get involved with Fite. With Ellen. And swap Bev for Kate. But worse, her mother was insulting Liam and his work at Fite, a company she had loathed and avoided her entire life—in front of his own family.

Liam
. He was arrogant and difficult and pig-headed and domineering, but—

She stood up so quickly the chair tipped over and clattered against the sideboard. Everyone, even the little dog, turned their heads to stare. “Leave Liam alone. He's the best thing Fite's got.”

Trixie’s eyes got wide, watching her. Then slowly she reached for the pepper grinder. “Liam, do go get us another bottle of the Shiraz. We've run dry.”

“And while I'm glad you're talking to Ellen,” Bev went on, eyes fixed on her mother, “know that I'll do everything in my power to see to it she never sets foot at Fite again. We’ve just started to clean up the mess she left behind. And have you forgotten why Kate had to drive up here? I didn't sleep for two days after she broke into the house—”

“Really, Bev!” Gail gaped at her, not used to having Bev ever argue with her, let alone at a dinner table with strangers. “Sit down.”

Liam caught Bev's gaze and held it, an intense look in his eyes she couldn’t read. She wished she could touch him, have him touch her, make everyone else go away.

“Come help me pick out the wine.” He pushed back his chair and stood up.

“You’d better take Norma back with you.” Trixie pointed a finger at the handful of fur in Kate's lap. “Sorry, honey. People food gives her a rash.”

Bev watched Liam pick up the dog and stride away, feeling the unsatisfied anger swirling in her gut. Without an apology to the table, she got up and strode after him.

He was in the walled in porch off the back of the kitchen, surrounded by the little animals, bending over and petting palm-sized beige heads. Her heart clenched, seeing his everyday gentleness, but her temper was still flying high from the scene behind her.

“I could get used to this hero complex of yours,” she said, “but it’s probably too late. I’ve already spoiled the meal and I’ll have to find a way to make it up to your mother somehow.”

Before she could brace herself, he turned around and grabbed her. “I wasn’t being a hero.”

His mouth came down on hers, hungry and demanding, surprising her out of her anger. Heat flared in her body, already worked up from the tension at the table, and she met his kiss with fierce, urgent need of her own. He leaned back against the wall and her body stretched up against his, shoulder to belly to thigh, each inch where they touched coming alive.

“I’m the best thing, huh?” His voice was low and rough in her ear. His hand came up her back and around her waist to cup her breast. “Is that your professional opinion?” he asked, teasing her nipple into a hard point, “or just your hormones talking?”

She licked her way down his throat to his collarbone, worked his shirt apart with her teeth, kissing lower. “Purely professional, of course.”

He groaned. “Oh, God. Keep doing that.”

She took a strand of chest hair in her teeth and nibbled, shocked by how she enjoyed the sound of his indrawn breath, how badly she wanted to get rough, jump him right there on the floor next to the dogs.

She pulled away. “I think I’m too angry to do this right now. I’m not myself.”