My Man Pendleton (43 page)

And although his eyes never left hers, he called over his shoulder, "Yo, Dad!"

Axel looked up, clearly surprised by the summons. "Yeah?"

"How're those ribs coming?"

His father glanced down briefly, then back up again. "Just about done."

Pendleton nodded and continued to look at Kit, but his words were still clearly intended for his father. "How long has it been since you and Mom had dinner with the Robys next door?"

"'Bout a week. Why?"

"Why don't you and mom and Carny treat Mr. and Mrs. Roby to a nice rib dinner tonight?"

Axel smiled knowingly. "You know, Sonny, I was just thinkin' that exact same thing. You remember how much Denise Roby likes her ribs."

Pendleton nodded. "Yeah, I remember."

"And Dick Roby, well
…
foggiddabbuddit."

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Think you could collect Mom and Carny and get lost for a couple hours?"

"Sure thing, Rocky. Just gimme five minutes."

Chapter 19

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T
hey were five minutes that Kit and Pendleton spent standing at the foot of the back porch, staring at each other in silence. And as each one of those minutes passed, all he could think was that he'd never seen her looking more beautiful, more lovable. Why Kit couldn't envision herself the same way, Pendleton couldn't imagine. But somehow, some way, he'd make her understand exactly what kind of woman she was. And what he had up his sleeve right now—literally—was going to go a long way toward proving to her just how important she was.

Only when the other Pendletons had waved goodbye and closed the gate behind them did she finally break the silence. "I can't believe your family does what you ask them to do. You have them trained so well."

He shrugged. "They only want what's best for me."

She eyed him thoughtfully. "And what would be best for you, Pendleton?"

Hey, that was an easy one. "You."

Kit started to shake her head, but he tugged on her arm and led her toward the back door.

"Come on," he repeated.

"Why?" she asked. "What is it you need to show me?"

"Just come on," he said again, weaving his fingers snugly with hers. "You'll see."

He thought she was going to balk, but after only a small hesitation, she swept the hand that wasn't holding his forward, indicating he should precede her through the back door. Then, her footsteps dragging only a little bit, she followed him into the house. Then through the kitchen. Then through the dining room. Then down the hall.

Pendleton didn't stop moving forward until he reached his old bedroom, which his parents had changed not one bit since he'd moved out of it to go to college almost fifteen years before. The walls were still decorated with faded blue race car wallpaper, and the twin bed was still covered with a red chenille bedspread. The windowsill played host to a half-dozen models of World War II tanks, the bookcases were overflowing with Hardy Boys mysteries and back issues of
Road and Track,
and his desk was virtually obscured by an elaborate HO setup.

Man, he'd always loved this room. And having Kit here with him now fulfilled an adolescent dream of his that he'd never thought would be reality. He closed the door behind them, so that fantasy wouldn't be disturbed.

"Sit down," he told her as he released her hand. She watched him warily for a moment, then began to make her way to the chair by his desk.

"Not there," he said. "On the bed."

She whipped around to face him. "Oh, I don't
think
so."

He held up his hands, chest high, palms out, in a gesture of surrender. "I have no intention of taking advantage of you," he told her. Then, after a meaningful pause, he qualified, "Until you tell me to."

She lifted her chin defiantly. "That's not going to happen."

He smiled indulgently. "We'll see. Sit."

Miraculously, she did as he asked without further argument, perching on the side of his bed near the foot. But instead of sitting still, she lifted the bedspread and reached between the mattress and box springs, feeling around as if searching for something.

"Oh, by the way," she said, "my first night here, while I was searching your room, I found something that belongs to you."

"You searched my room?" he asked, wondering why he was surprised. "You violated my boyhood domain?"

She kept feeling around beneath the mattress, but met his gaze with an expression that clearly stated,
Well, duh.
"Ah-ha," she said before Pendleton could comment. Her hand ceased its movement, then, with one swift gesture, she withdrew a battered, dog-eared glossy magazine, turned to the middle of it, and unfolded the naked woman dwelling within. "In addition to eighty-seven cents in change and a fossilized Milky Way that was stuck behind one of your bookcases, I found this."

Pendleton smiled wistfully. "Miss January 1979."

She arched her eyebrows in surprise. "You remember?"

"Oh, you bet."

"This is your idea of the perfect woman, I suppose."

He shook his head. "Nah. That was my idea of the perfect woman when I was thirteen. I was an idiot then."

"I see."

"But until you came along, she was the only woman I ever brought to this bed."

Kit quickly refolded the centerfold and stuffed the magazine back under the mattress. "I don't want to know."

"Aw, come on. Sure you do. Because you're about to take Miss January's place. In my bed. In my heart. In my life."

"In your dreams."

"Yeah, there too."

She narrowed her eyes at him, but said nothing more. So Pendleton reached behind himself with one hand and bunched his sweatshirt in his fist, pausing only long enough to make his intentions perfectly clear. Evidently, he succeeded, because Kit's eyes widened to the size of silver dollars.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

He hesitated, but didn't release his shirt, making it obvious that he intended to snatch the garment over his head. Still, just in case she didn't understand, he told her, "I'm taking my shirt off."

"Oh, no, you're not," she said.

He tugged once, hard, and pulled the garment over his head. "Oops," he countered easily. "Guess you were wrong. Guess I am taking my shirt off." He jostled his arms so that the sweatshirt scrunched down, revealing the T-shirt he wore beneath. Then he scooted it down over his hands, wadded it up in a ball, and turned halfway around to toss it toward a basketball hoop that hung on the back of his bedroom door. It fell through easily, scoring a two-pointer quite nicely.

"Ye-esss,"
he murmured as he turned back around to Kit.

"Well, don't you dare take your other shirt off," she commanded.

In response to her edict, Pendleton reached behind himself again, this time bunching his T-shirt in his fist.

"Pendleton…"
she said, her voice laced with warning. "Don't
…
you
…
dare."

In one smooth move, he removed his T-shirt, too, pausing with it wrapped around his upper arms, obscuring his naked chest. "Oops," he said again, smiling. "Guess you were wrong about that one, too."

Kit stood, both hands clenched into fists at her sides, clearly intending to bolt.

"Sit," Pendleton instructed her.

She shook her head. "If you're not going to do what I tell you to do, then I don't have to do what you tell me to do."

"You're not going anywhere until I've shown you what I need to show you."

Her cheeks suddenly stained with a blush of pink that Pendleton found very becoming. "Thanks, but I've already seen it," she said.

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Not like this, you haven't."

"Pendleton would you just—"

He shed his T-shirt completely then, tossing it aside, and Kit's mouth immediately quit running. It didn't close, but it did stop running. And then she only gaped at him, her gaze fixed intently on his chest. A specific part of his chest, as a matter of fact. The part where kids put their hands when
they say the Pledge of Allegiance to the flag. Right where his new tattoo was.

"Oh, my God," she whispered. "Is that real?"

He rotated his left arm slowly, working out some of the faint achiness he still felt in the muscles beneath the spot where the week-old decoration lay. "Yeah. It's real."

Kit only shook her head in silence as she approached him, her gaze never leaving the illustration of not one, but
two
big ol' nasty cherubs hovering on each side of a heart. As she drew nearer, she lifted her hand toward the tattoo, her fingers curled gingerly in preparation of touching it. At the last minute, though, she halted, turning her gaze up to meet his.

"Is it okay?" she asked. "If I touch it, I mean?"

"Why, Miss McClellan," he said with a smile. "I thought you'd never ask."

With a shaky smile of her own in return, she extended her hand and traced her fingertips gently over the words inscribed within the heart. Not Kit. Not Katherine. What Pendleton had had the tattoo artist inscribe was
Katherine Atherton McClellan Pendleton.

"Oh, Pendleton," she murmured, her eyes filling up to brimming with tears. "I can't believe you did this."

"The pain factor was
enormous,"
he told her. "It hurt like a mother. Not to mention the fact that they had to shave my chest to put it there. Do you know what it's like for a man who's entering the hair-loss phase of his life to watch while someone shaves his chest?"

She shook her head, laughing softly. "No. I have no idea what that's like." A single, fat tear spilled from each of her eyes, tumbling down her face in a slow stream. "But I do know what it's like to have someone fall in love with me. Pendleton
…"
Gingerly, she brushed her fingers over the tattoo again. Then, very, very quietly, she repeated, "I can't believe you did this. I can't believe you
…"

As her words trailed off, he brushed his thumbs over each of her cheeks, wiping away her tears. Immediately, however, two more took their place. "What can I say?" he asked softly. "Love makes a guy do crazy things."

She smiled. "You really do love me. You love
me."

The fact that she said the words as a statement, and not a question, indicated that Kit had come a long, long way in her view of things. He cupped her jaw with his hand and dipped his head forward, brushing his lips tenderly over her cheek. "Yeah," he said quietly when he pulled back to gaze upon her face, "I really do love you."

She swallowed hard, her eyes never leaving his. Then, in a soft murmur, she said, "Pendleton?"

"Yeah?"

"Take advantage of me."

He smiled. "Well, okay. If that's what it takes to make you happy."

As if she couldn't wait for him, Kit pushed herself up on tiptoe and covered his mouth with hers, scooping her fingers into his hair, urging his head down for a more complete taste of him. Where their previous joining had been slow, leisurely and tentative, Pendleton found himself wanting a union this time that was fast, intense, and decisive. And considering the demand in Kit's kiss, not to mention the wanting inside him that came with more than a week's separation between them, he felt pretty certain that that was exactly what they were going to have.

Evidently, Kit was pretty certain of that, too, because she removed her hands from his hair long enough to cross her arms over her torso and grab the hem of her sweater. Unfortunately, she seemed less willing to remove her mouth from his, and once her sweater was over her arms, it only made it as far as her neck. No matter, Pendleton thought as he moved his hands behind her back to deftly unhook her brassiere. They could work around this. They could.

She pulled her arms from the straps of her bra, and that, at least, fell to the floor. Then, as she went to work on the buttons of his fly, he lowered the zipper on hers. Awkwardly, they undressed each other as well as they could, then finally, finally, Kit pulled away long enough to drag her sweater over her head and toss it to the floor. Pendleton started to move in for another mating of the mouths, when Kit lifted a hand, index finger extended upward, to stop him.