catfish for dinner.”That was the sort of voice Jake had used. A catfish-catching voice.
Berry made an effort to swallow the panic that was rising in her chest. “Miss Gaspich and Bill left early, and I stayed around to tidy up.”
His hands were at her neck, massaging little circles. “You feel tense.”
You bet I’m tense, she thought. I’m not as dumb as that ol’ catfish. I know when I’m about to get reeled in.
She felt his breath whisper through her hair while his hands slid over her shoulders and nestled against the fullness of her breasts. It was an act of gentle possession. As was the taking of her mouth: a silent affirmation of the power he held over her. His tongue touched hers in confident intimacy, and she felt his arousal stir against her belly. She placed both hands against his chest and pushed away. “Lord, you’re probably murder on catfish, too.”
Even in the dark she could see the look of astonishment on his face. “Catfish?” He rested his head against the refrigerator and groaned. “Do you hear someone at the front door?”
“Miss Gaspich?”
The door opened, and Bill’s voice drifted through the dark house in a stage whisper. “Mildred, I had a great time tonight.”
Miss Gaspich’s answer was low and indiscernible. There was a prolonged silence.
“Holy smoke,” Berry said, “you don’t suppose they’re…”
“Sounds to me like he’s got a more cooperative partner than I do.”
Berry and Jake cringed at the unmistakable thump, thump, thump of Mrs. Dugan thundering down the hall, stomping down the stairs. A light flashed on in the living room.
“Mmmmmmmildred!” Mrs. Dugan pronounced it like a drum roll.
“This is Bill Kozinski,” Miss Gaspich said. “We were just saying good night.”
“He has a tattoo.”
“It’s an anchor. He was in the navy.”
A car door slammed in the driveway, and Mrs. Fitz and Harry joined the party.
“What the devil is this?” Mrs. Fitz demanded. “Why isn’t everyone asleep?”
Mrs. Dugan stood her ground. “You’d likethat. You’d like to have the living room all to yourself, I suppose.”
“Darn right. How’re we supposed to neck with you standing there gawking at us?”
Bill put his arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Time to leave.”
They made a quick exit.
Mrs. Fitz glared at Mrs. Dugan. “See what you’ve done. You made them go away.”
Mrs. Dugan shook her finger at Mrs. Fitz. “You’ll never catch a man that way. Everyone knows men don’t buy what they can get for free.”
“Well, that’s fine with me ’cause I don’t want to be bought.”
“Me either.” Miss Gaspich giggled. “I don’t want to be bought, but I might be persuaded to give it away for free.”
Mrs. Dugan and Mrs. Fitz instantly turned scarlet. “Mildred!”
“I think we should all go into the kitchen and make a nice pot of tea.” Miss Gaspich smiled pleasantly. “I’m just dying to tell someone about Bill.”
Chapter 7
Berry sipped her orange juice and watched Jake from the corner of her eye. He was clearly lost in his own thoughts. He glanced at the clock while he unconsciously drank his coffee. An air of brooding expectancy gave his dark eyebrows an ominous slant. She’d successfully avoided him since the kitchen encounter, trying with little success to sort out her feelings. It was like playing the game of plucking petals off a daisy. Keep The Plan. Junk The Plan. Keep The Plan. Junk The Plan.
In the beginning it had been her body that wanted to junk The Plan, but more and more, it was her mind that wanted to love Jake Sawyer. Oddly enough, he carried a sense of order and security with him. His lifestyle was a little extravagant, what with one-of-a-kind cars and explodingcereal, but his house was a home. That was the part that really scared her. Was she still looking for someone to take care of her mittens? Was she still looking for someone to fill in the blanks in her personality? Jake Sawyer was the man every
Berry made an effort to swallow the panic that was rising in her chest. “Miss Gaspich and Bill left early, and I stayed around to tidy up.”
His hands were at her neck, massaging little circles. “You feel tense.”
You bet I’m tense, she thought. I’m not as dumb as that ol’ catfish. I know when I’m about to get reeled in.
She felt his breath whisper through her hair while his hands slid over her shoulders and nestled against the fullness of her breasts. It was an act of gentle possession. As was the taking of her mouth: a silent affirmation of the power he held over her. His tongue touched hers in confident intimacy, and she felt his arousal stir against her belly. She placed both hands against his chest and pushed away. “Lord, you’re probably murder on catfish, too.”
Even in the dark she could see the look of astonishment on his face. “Catfish?” He rested his head against the refrigerator and groaned. “Do you hear someone at the front door?”
“Miss Gaspich?”
The door opened, and Bill’s voice drifted through the dark house in a stage whisper. “Mildred, I had a great time tonight.”
Miss Gaspich’s answer was low and indiscernible. There was a prolonged silence.
“Holy smoke,” Berry said, “you don’t suppose they’re…”
“Sounds to me like he’s got a more cooperative partner than I do.”
Berry and Jake cringed at the unmistakable thump, thump, thump of Mrs. Dugan thundering down the hall, stomping down the stairs. A light flashed on in the living room.
“Mmmmmmmildred!” Mrs. Dugan pronounced it like a drum roll.
“This is Bill Kozinski,” Miss Gaspich said. “We were just saying good night.”
“He has a tattoo.”
“It’s an anchor. He was in the navy.”
A car door slammed in the driveway, and Mrs. Fitz and Harry joined the party.
“What the devil is this?” Mrs. Fitz demanded. “Why isn’t everyone asleep?”
Mrs. Dugan stood her ground. “You’d likethat. You’d like to have the living room all to yourself, I suppose.”
“Darn right. How’re we supposed to neck with you standing there gawking at us?”
Bill put his arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Time to leave.”
They made a quick exit.
Mrs. Fitz glared at Mrs. Dugan. “See what you’ve done. You made them go away.”
Mrs. Dugan shook her finger at Mrs. Fitz. “You’ll never catch a man that way. Everyone knows men don’t buy what they can get for free.”
“Well, that’s fine with me ’cause I don’t want to be bought.”
“Me either.” Miss Gaspich giggled. “I don’t want to be bought, but I might be persuaded to give it away for free.”
Mrs. Dugan and Mrs. Fitz instantly turned scarlet. “Mildred!”
“I think we should all go into the kitchen and make a nice pot of tea.” Miss Gaspich smiled pleasantly. “I’m just dying to tell someone about Bill.”
Chapter 7
Berry sipped her orange juice and watched Jake from the corner of her eye. He was clearly lost in his own thoughts. He glanced at the clock while he unconsciously drank his coffee. An air of brooding expectancy gave his dark eyebrows an ominous slant. She’d successfully avoided him since the kitchen encounter, trying with little success to sort out her feelings. It was like playing the game of plucking petals off a daisy. Keep The Plan. Junk The Plan. Keep The Plan. Junk The Plan.
In the beginning it had been her body that wanted to junk The Plan, but more and more, it was her mind that wanted to love Jake Sawyer. Oddly enough, he carried a sense of order and security with him. His lifestyle was a little extravagant, what with one-of-a-kind cars and explodingcereal, but his house was a home. That was the part that really scared her. Was she still looking for someone to take care of her mittens? Was she still looking for someone to fill in the blanks in her personality? Jake Sawyer was the man every
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