Time Off for Good Behavior (20 page)

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Authors: Lani Diane Rich

BOOK: Time Off for Good Behavior
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One day I packed all her stuff up in a rental truck and hauled it down to storage. I haven

t been there since.

He took a sip of his wine and then gestured with his glass toward the pictures on the mantel.

Those are mostly of my sis
ter and her kids.

I nodded, trying to think of an appropriate comment, something that showed my sensitive side. I drew a big fat blank.

Walter looked up on my silence and smiled. My heart lurched in my chest at the sight of him in the firelight, loose ti
e and rolled-up sleeves giving him that sexy disheveled look. Damn Elizabeth and her damn self-awareness. Let

s talk about your
feelings,
Wanda.
Pjfjft.
I took a sip of wine.


Let

s move on to something more interesting than my sob story,

he said, bringin
g me back into the moment. He popped a grape into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully for a few moments.

Let

s talk about that day in your apartment.


Hmmm?

I said, wincing as a few drops of wine cut through my throat. I choked briefly, then looked up at
Walter through misty eyes.


You okay?

he asked.


Yeah,

I croaked.

Wrong pipe.


Ahhh.

He looked down at his glass, then back at me.

If you don

t want to talk about it, then...


No,

I said, recovering.

We can talk about it. I

m just not sure what th
ere is to say.

His eyes flickered at me.

You

re not?


No. I mean, I kissed you, and then I thought we were going to have sex, but you kinda freaked out, and then I grabbed your crotch, and you screamed like a girl



I
know
what happened,

he said, hold
ing up a hand to shut me up.

Any chance we can wipe that

screamed like a girl

thing off the record?

I smiled and shook my head.

I don

t think so.


Fine. Look, we both know what happened. What I want to talk about is...

He paused, huffed a short laug
h at whatever was going through his mind, and stared into the fire as he went on.

I just think we should talk about
why
it happened.


You wanna talk about why?

He met my eye. He was dead serious.

Yeah. Why did you kiss me?

My throat tightened, and my
breathing kicked up a notch.

I don

t know. I thought you were cute, I

d had a few drinks...


I see,

he said with a brief nod.


Dammit,

I said.

I didn

t mean that it was just because I

d been drinking. I meant... ugh!

I slammed my fist down on the sof
a cushions.

Why are you asking me this?

He sat forward, put both of our glasses on the coffee table, and took my hands in his. My entire body buzzed at his touch, and my jury was out on whether I was going to jump him or run screaming from the room.


I t
hink it

s time we talked about it.

He brought his eyes up to meet mine and smiled his crooked smile. Made of kryptonite, that smile.

I think there

s a thing going on here between us. I just want to make sure it

s mutual before...


Before...?

I knew wha
t he was going to say, but I had to draw it out. It had to be on paper before I

d believe it.

He held my gaze.

Before I act on it.

I dropped my eyes, felt my cheeks blazing.

So you think we

ve got a thing?

He let go of my hands.

You don

t?

I shook my
head and lied through my stupid lying teeth.

No.

He looked at me, reading me. He had to know I was lying.

Please, Walter,
I thought,
cant you just save us both the pain and see through me?

He stood up, picking up our wineglasses.

Okay. My mistake, then.

I watched him retreat to the kitchen and listened as he washed the glasses. I stood up and backed away from the sofa, as though my total mess of a life was all the fault of cream-colored leather. I stopped when the frigid window shocked my back, and I f
roze against it, grateful for the harsh reality of the chilling cold.

Walter returned a minute later and leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the living room from me. He looked good, backlit by the light coming through the kitchen door, a small
white towel draped over his shoulder. My breathing went shallow.

He wanted me. He

d put it on paper. And yet there I was, pressing my back against a freezing-cold window, trying to fend off the one thing I really wanted. It

s a good thing I

d been getting
chummy with a therapist. I

d never be able to afford all the help I needed if I had to pay for it.

He gave a small smile and I felt a rush. He was seeing through me, doing all the work for me.

Is there something you want to talk about?

I shook my head.

No.

He took a step forward.

You seem a little... disturbed.


That

s not unusual for me.

He continued moving toward me, tossing the kitchen towel on the coffee table as he passed. I pushed my back into the glass. A moment later he was standing so close
that I could inhale the sweet wine on his breath.


What

s disturbing you?

he asked.


I don

t know.

He leaned one hand against the window, then pulled it back quickly.


Jesus, that

s cold.

He put his hands on my shoulders and guided me back to the sofa.
He sat next to me, one leg curled toward me, one arm casually draped over the back, his fingers lightly grazing my shoulder and sending snapping currents of electricity down my spine.


You

re shivering,

he said.


The window. It was cold.

I stiffened as h
is hand moved from the sofa to rub my shoulder.


You okay?

he asked, backing away a little.


Yes,

I said.

I mean, no.


Wanda, what

s going on here?

I closed my eyes and let the wine speak.


I

m afraid you

re going to kiss me.

Oh. God. Take me now. A
lightning bolt would be great, but an aneurysm will do.


And would that be a bad thing?

he asked.

I opened my eyes and let out a stuttering breath.

No.

He smiled.

Are you sure?


No,

I said.

He laughed and reached to push a strand of hair away from my
eyes.

You are so... strange.


Well, there

s some sweet talk for you.

I gave one of those high-pitched, self-conscious laughs and put my head in my hands. Walter

s hand slid down to my back. I jumped up off the sofa, still hiding my face.


Wanda?

I hea
rd him get up, felt him take my arms, pulling my hands away from my face. One finger hooked under my chin and lifted it. Our eyes met. My blood was pumping, my breathing erratic. I focused on his eyes, running down my face, over my chin, landing on my lip
s
.

I can

t figure you out.


Hang on,

I said.

I

ve got a manual in the trunk of my car.

He laughed.

I might need that. You practically jump me in your apartment, and now...

He traced one finger down the side of my face.
Hoo-wah.

I guess I just don

t
understand.


Well,

I stammered,

back then, we hardly knew each other. And now...

I couldn

t finish the sentence. He leaned in closer.

And now what?

I looked away, trying to concentrate on my feet rather than Walter

s breath fluttering against my chee
k.

And now I know you.


Ah,

he said.

Well, that makes sense.

I shrugged.

Does to me.

He nodded, more serious.

Could you pretend I

m a stranger, then? Because if I don

t kiss you soon, I

m going to have to leave the room.


Do you always announce wh
en you

re going to kiss someone?

I asked, trying to be funny, but my delivery was thrown off by my shortness of breath.

He shook his head.

No.

He put his hand in my hair, running his fingers through it and making my body surge with heat. I leaned my fac
e into the warmth of his palm, and he moved closer, his cheek almost touching mine, his breathing rough against my ear.


I

m going to explode if you don

t say it

s okay for me to kiss you soon,

he said, his voice quiet and raw.

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