Family Skeletons (10 page)

Not once in her life had Sunny not responded to a
challenge.

“Oh, yeah?” she said, quite originally.

“Yes,” he said politely. “Consider that a promise.”

Chapter Ten

September seemed determined to leave an impression.
When the temperature gauge that seldom rose to eighty climbed toward ninety,
Sunny and Jonathan were forced out of the attic and to the beach.

Quite willingly, Sunny left grisly discoveries and
guilty confessions behind her. But she found that memories of comforting
gestures that went straight to the sexual gut were more difficult to leave
behind. And, although Jonathan Corday had a stuffy side, she was now aware that
no one wore soapsuds better than he did.

They wore nothing more revealing than shorts and
tank tops as they played on the beach, however. And the physical, sexy
horseplay one might expect between two attractive and healthy people of
opposite sexes—which could lead to sexy play of a heavier nature—never became
an issue. Not because they consciously avoided it, but simply because Jonathan
wasn’t the kind of man who was inclined to toss a woman over his shoulder and then
into the ocean. Sunny found she appreciated that. She was able to enjoy his
company without male slash female sparring.

Well, almost none, she thought as she washed dinner
dishes. That speech of his after she’d jumped on top of him to wake him up a
couple of mornings ago was as suggestive as it was challenging. It’d been as
uncharacteristic for him—and she’d thought she had a handle on him—as it was
unusual for her to be backing off. And backing off she was, though she didn’t
like admitting it. They’d changed roles, it appeared, which was as surprising
to her as her recently found prudence. Maybe Mavis was right. Had Sunny met her
match?

Sunny frowned at the dishwater. Then decisively she
upended the pan and finished up so she could go run a bath and wash the day’s
heat and sand off herself like she’d washed food off the plates. Too bad her
nagging musings couldn’t also be scrubbed off in the bath and disappear down
the drain.

The next day was another warm one, and Sunny chased
shade around the house while she worked in the geranium beds. Though she’d had
little experience in gardening, she was discovering that the smell of freshly
turned earth and the vanquishing of weeds was an excellent way to soothe one’s
soul. It compared quite well with meditation—was even superior to it because
she’d never been able to sit still long enough to meditate.

Cat kept trying to dig a hole, and Sunny kept
brushing her away while she tilled around the stalks Langley Bowers had killed.
Hopefully the joint of a healthy plant would root itself and fill in. Gorgeous
colors: rich reds, purples and plums, and a delicate strawberry pink she took
extra time with. As she worked, she realized she’d gone beyond the deal she’d
made with her mother to clean out the old Victorian and prepare it for sale. By
tending the flowers, she was nurturing the place.

She paused, wrinkling her forehead as she caught an
unpleasant smell. Cat had managed to dig her hole after all and now sat above
it in a natural, unmistakable pose.

“Oh, shit, you stinky cat. You had to do that? Right
now, right there?”

When she started to rise, she became aware that
Jonathan was behind her. He grasped her elbow, and she allowed him to assist
her to her feet.

“Yes, it appears she has to do that, right now and
right there.” He slanted an amused, fond look at the half-grown cat and its
regal pose. Then he directed the same easy look at Sunny. “Some things never
change. I became aware the first time I met you that you had a mouth on you,
and this still holds true.”

Her brow furrowed as she tried to remember what
she’d said. She had good recall of her language—which she didn’t think was that
bad—during his unfortunate encounter as opposed to her fender bender, but what
had she just said...oh. Okay.

“Yes,” she said in the prim, professional tone
reserved for schoolteachers and octogenarians. “I used a very crude name to
refer to a perfectly natural substance. How rude of me. Do you think you can
find it in your heart to let it go this time?”

His gaze moved to her lips and stayed there. “Yes,
quite a mouth,” he said softly, then lowered his to hers and claimed it.

She’d seen the kiss coming, met it and him halfway,
and then she let the heat build—liking it, savoring it, and giving it right
back. To hell with prudence. When he drew away she noted his bemused
expression. If he’d been testing her, he now had more questions than before
he’d kissed her.

Sunny peeled her gloves off, patted them against her
leg. “We’ve been dancing around that for quite some time now,” she said
conversationally. She knew how to be cool, too.

He waited a beat. “And?”

His eyes weren’t just green; they were the color of
the greenest grass. “Well, if you’re going to be staid, then be staid,” she
said. “If you’re going to be sexy, then be sexy.”

“Staid,” he echoed. His lips pursed as he thought
that over, his gaze going off to the side. She noted that was the only
adjective he was questioning. He looked back. “I believe I heard two unspoken
words in that speech. Predictable. And unpredictable.”

She thought over his statement, nodded. “Okay. That,
too.”

“You’re about as unpredictable as unpredictable can
get. That might be one of the few things we have in common.”

“Might be.”

He waited a longer beat. “I’m thinking some
exploration might be in order.”

Not wanting to let him know he’d thrown her, she
tried not to let her eyes narrow or her brow to wrinkle. He was doing it again.
Another provocative statement from a person from whom she did not expect
provocative statements. Romantic exploration was in order?

Then with his eyes and a nod of his head, he
indicated the grove of trees across the grassy field. “I want to explore over
there. Would you like to join me?”

Exactly...what...did he want to explore over there?
He was inviting her.

Was he too innocent, or was she too suspicious?

Okay, until further notice, take him literally.

She looked down at the row of geraniums, one end
neat and the other not, and she decided to think about his guilelessness—or
lack thereof—and her skepticism later. “Thanks, but I want to finish up here.”

He walked away in that precise, straight-backed
stride, and Cat followed. As she watched him, she pursed her lips. Maybe it
hadn’t appeared so at first, but that man had more than his share of sex
appeal.

So, Sunny, what are you going to do
about that?

She pulled her gloves back on, knelt, and got back
to work.

Finish this flowerbed, that’s what.

* * *

The sun’s heat finally let up the next day. Sunny
rose early, let Cat out, and then she couldn’t resist letting herself out as
well. The day was brisk, clear sky, no fog. Sweatshirt weather—at least for
another hour or two. She ran upstairs to get it and pulled it on over her white
tee. Halfway back down the stairs, she paused and looked up. Cupping her hands
around her mouth, she hollered, “Good morning. I’m going for a walk. You’ve got
a half-hour. Tops.”

She continued down the stairs, out the door, and then
on to the beach. Cat caught up and then led. The kitten kept her distance from
the water, but the rest of the beach was her private playground. Sunny didn’t
keep her distance from the surf; that was her playground.

Once she was back home, she kicked the sneakers off
and rinsed her feet and shoes with the backyard hose. She entered the kitchen, went
to the hall and again cupped her hands to her mouth to yell, “I’m back. If
you’re not up, get up.”

She pulled the sweatshirt off, started coffee, and
decided on oatmeal and cantaloupe for breakfast. The cereal was ready before he
showed so she turned the flame off, put a lid on the pot, yelled again, poured
more coffee and sat down to wait. After that unorthodox awakening he’d been
subjected to last week he’d been tuned to the sound of her voice. He’d show any
minute.

She gave the red-checked oilcloth a critical look.
This
has gotta go. A peachy print would be pretty, just simple cotton, nothing
fancy.

She eyed the faded yellow cabinets.
A deep peach
there, off-white walls, and—

Catching herself, she smiled. No way. The new owners
could do their own decorating.

Then the smile vanished. Enough time had passed that
she gave the empty hallway an irritated scowl. “Jonathan! Get down here or go
hungry!”

Silence. She drew in a breath, blew it out, and
drained the last of her coffee.

Pour a cup for him, take it upstairs and
douse him with it.

But she walked the hallway empty-handed and climbed
the stairs. No snoring this time. She knocked, got no response, so went ahead
and opened his door. His mouth was closed as well as his eyes. Covers were
pulled up to his chin.

Don’t even think about it. He wasn’t
bluffing
.

She remained in the doorway.

No, Sunny.

She didn’t budge.

Okay, you’re not a coward. But you are
an idiot. An absolute idiot.

She moved fast, but his arms closed around her the
instant her knee touched the mattress. She didn’t have a chance to straddle him
as she had before, so he helped her into position. She was on top, but he was
in control. His green eyes were smiling and smug.

“You weren’t asleep,” she accused.

“And you knew it.”

“You set me up.”

“And you knew it.”

His face was too angular to be storybook handsome,
but he was easy on the eyes. His hands moved lightly up and down her waist,
then slipped beneath her t-shirt. Her skin tingled. She wondered if he noticed,
and then he smiled. He’d noticed.

He was bare-chested. She guessed the rest of him was
just as bare. Her breathing speeded up a notch.

“You’re not struggling,” he observed.

“No, I’m not,” she agreed. With her palms resting on
either side of his pillow she leaned down and kissed each eyelid.

He made a groaning sound. “Are you sure about this,
Sunny?”

No, I’m not. But I’m gonna do it anyway
.

Beneath her cotton tee, his hands teased their way
up her back. She kissed his lips, chin, neck, then returned to his mouth for a
longer time. His response made her wonder who was kissing and who was
responding. She felt fingers playing with her bra strap.

When she realized his facial skin was smooth, she
raised her head. “How did you manage to shave without my knowing it?”

“I’m talented.”

“And well-planned. And devious.”

“Thank you.”

Her bra became unfastened. The palms of his hands
smoothed her back, spreading until his thumbs rested feather light at the
outside swell of her breasts.

“Think about this, Sunny.” His voice was husky, eyes
smoky. “It’s not too late yet, but we’re getting there.”

“Looks like you’re the one who’s struggling.” She
continued to play around his mouth with hers.

Fingers trailed down to the hem of her shirt,
teasing her skin as they moved. He bunched the fabric in his hands.

“I’m sure,” he whispered. “But I also want you to be
sure. I don’t enter relationships lightly.”

That gave her pause. She didn’t pull away, but her
hesitance must have communicated itself because his hands moved to her waist
again, a safer positioning, yet still holding her in place.

“I didn’t say that because I wanted to talk you out
of it,” he said softly. “I don’t want you to change your mind.”

She leaned down. With her lips touching his, she
whispered, “I don’t want to change my mind either.” Then she straightened and
allowed him to pull the t-shirt off over her head. The bra went with it.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

She swallowed hard. “I already got a pretty good
look at you once. And I kinda liked what I saw, too.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he murmured, and
changed their positions in order to help her out of her jeans.

Chapter Eleven

Sunny and Jonathan went out for breakfast. Congealed
oatmeal and dried-out cantaloupe lacked appeal. At a nod from her, he guided
the SUV into the parking lot of the first restaurant they came to on the
outskirts of Castleton. As Sunny alighted from the truck with a bounce in her
step, she realized that for the first time in a long time her mood actually
matched her name.

The hostess led them to a table, and Jonathan pulled
a chair out for Sunny. She sat, looked up at him, and then down at her hand
resting comfortably on his larger one on the arm of the chair. She liked the
way it looked there.

The hostess smiled. “Newlyweds?”

“Huh?” Sunny’s head jerked up. Holding the smile,
the woman walked away.

Jonathan grinned as he sat down. “It shows.”

Her face warmed. “Something shows.” She buried
herself in the menu.

“My dear Sunny, I do believe I’m seeing a side of
you I never saw before.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“I suggest you get used to the feeling, because the
activity which caused it might be happening again from time to time.”

His words gave her such a delicious—and
impish—feeling that she gave him a look over the top of the menu that made his
face go slack. He hitched in a breath. “Eat fast.”

They ordered waffles. His was plain and hers was
smothered in enough strawberries and whipped cream that she had to search for
the waffle.

Sated, in more ways than one, Jonathan pushed his
empty plate aside. Sunny had finished a long time ago, having barely made a
dent in the plate’s contents. His gaze moved to something beyond her, and his
eyes dulled. “Great. How far do we have to go to get away from the good
citizens of Chester?”

Sunny turned in her chair. “Oh, hi, Tom. Aren’t you
out of your jurisdiction?”

Tom pulled out a chair and sat down without being
invited. “Still my eating jurisdiction. They make good chili here.”

“For breakfast?” Jonathan looked appalled.

“It’s almost noon.” Tom gave him a curious look.

“Oh.” The younger man appeared slightly nonplused.
“Of course it is.” He rested his left elbow on the arm of the chair and managed
a surreptitious glance at his watch.

Tom directed his attention to Sunny. “Glad I ran
into you. I got the report back on that baseball bat, and the blood type isn’t
the same as your—oh, hi, Millie.”

“You ready yet, Tom?” The waitress put one check
face down in the middle of the table, and then poised her pencil above her
ordering pad.

“Your biggest bowl of chili, nuke it with cheddar
and onions, and bring me a box of crackers to go along with it. And a glass of
water and ice, leave the pitcher.”

“I could write this one on my own and bring it with
me. But if I did, you’re just ornery enough to order something else.”

Tom guffawed.

Although her gaze was on Millie as she walked away,
Sunny spoke to Tom. “You were saying the blood type isn’t Franklin’s.”

“Nope. Isn’t.”

Once Millie rounded the cashier’s station, she was
out of sight, but Sunny’s gaze remained on the corner of the stand. She asked,
“Then whose?”

“Now that is the question. A really good question.
All indications point to the fact that the bat walloped somebody real good. And
the prints on the base—there were two good ones—don’t belong to old Franklin
either. He was neither the victim nor the one wielding the weapon, but it was
found in his attic. When you figure that one out, you let me know.”

“Then someone else is missing besides Franklin,”
Jonathan reasoned. “Somebody’s going to have to go digging.”

Tom hesitated, gave him a squinted, are-you-serious
kind of look. Sunny had also caught what was most likely an unintended pun, but
she was too preoccupied to respond to it.

“What’s next, Tom?” she asked. “What do we do now?”

“Check the missing person’s file,” he paused and
gave Jonathan another squinty look. “And try to date the, uh, tissue on the
bat. But I don’t mind sayin’ we got more questions right now than answers.”

“But as far as we’re concerned,” Jonathan said,
“it’s...”

“Yep. Business as usual. Whatever that is.” He gave
each of them a thoughtful look. “Whatever that is,” he repeated. “Anything
going on I should know about? Something different about you, both of you, but I
can’t put my finger on it.”

Sunny stared at him.
No way can it show that we
just got out of the same bed. No way, no how.

Then she reached for the check the same moment
Jonathan did. The touch of his hand on hers ignited sparks, and she drew back.
A defensive reaction, under the circumstances, and he must’ve caught it because
his mouth turned up at the corners as he put bills down to cover the check.

She stood. “Bye, Tom. See you around.” She managed
not to give the deputy sheriff a direct look along with her farewell.

Jonathan walked beside her on their way out, and she
also refused to look at him.
You laugh, and I’ll kill you. I swear it.

But once they’d climbed into the SUV, Jonathan sat
behind the wheel without inserting the key for a long enough time that she had
to look at him. When she did, she broke up, and they laughed until they had to
wipe tears of glee from their eyes. Sure, they had some thorny problems, like a
bloody bat and a missing and unidentified body, but hey, they were only human.

* * *

Later that week, the phone rang when Sunny was
halfway up the stairs with a basket of clean laundry.
Criminy. It never
fails.

Carefully she balanced the basket on a stair, hoping
it wouldn’t tip and spill sheets and pillowcases out to cascade down the steps,
and she raced to the parlor.

“Hi, doll,” said the voice at the other end.

“Ryan.” She perched on the arm of the sofa and
cradled the phone at her ear. “Hi.”

“When Jonathan called, I told him that we couldn’t
make it up there until next week. But Marcus finagled the time off, I just
cleared my calendar, and we’ve got the weekend free until Tuesday. We can be
there Saturday for dinner if you’ll cook it.”

“You’re on.”

“Speaking of such, Marcus wanted me to tell you how
much he likes that chicken dish you make with mushrooms and tomatoes and rice.”

“He did, huh?”

“If you’ll cook the chicken, I’ll bring the wine.
And dessert.”

“Deal.”

“Bye, doll.”

She hung up, still smiling, then tracked Jonathan
down in the backyard where he was toweling dry his truck. Cat sat at a safe
distance from the dripping vehicle. She groomed herself, watched a while, then
groomed herself some more.

“Company’s coming,” Sunny announced. “Day after
tomorrow. I’ve gotta go shopping. Wanna go with me?”

He seemed pleased to be invited. She made a list
while he finished the car. Since she was the cook, she was also the shopper and
she paid the bill. But he snagged the receipts and split every one right down
the middle. She figured anyone that precise needed to be that precise, so she
let him handle it his way without argument.

Pushing a grocery cart down the aisle with Jonathan
at her side felt almost like an intimate act. Though twice married, she’d never
before shared this chore, and suddenly it wasn’t a chore. As she added a six-pack
of Sprite to the cart, she eyed the wine section across the aisle.

She tapped a bottle of Korbel Brut with her
fingertip and slanted a look at him. “We could take this and a blanket down to
the beach tonight and catch the sunset. What do you think?”

In response, she got a slow smile.

She returned it. “I promise not to let the ocean
ambush you again.”

“Have you ever seen that classic with Burt Lancaster
and Deborah Kerr? Maybe we could let the water catch us on purpose.”

A bored, middle-aged woman who looked tired checked
their groceries. Jonathan was reading the
TV Guide
that had already
passed over the price check scanner. The clerk came to the champagne and held
it up. “ID?”

“Oh, yeah,” Sunny said. She fumbled in her oversized
shoulder bag. Whatever she wanted was always at the bottom, and she looked up
apologetically. The woman smothered a yawn while she waited to ring up the
total.

“Never mind. I’ve got it,” Jonathan said.

The clerk shook her head. “She initiated the sale,
she concludes it. She doesn’t have the ID, the bottle goes back on the shelf.”

“But if I pay for it—”

“Can it, Jonathan. You’re being stuffy again. Here.
I found it.”

The woman looked at the license, then back up in
surprise. “Twenty-six? You sure don’t look it, Ms. Corday.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before.” She reached for the
license, but Jonathan snatched it out of the clerk’s hand. Startled, Sunny
stared at him. Then she recalled the woman’s words.

“Oh,” she said. There was nothing else to say. “Oh.”