Forgotten Honeymoon (13 page)

She grinned mischievously. He didn’t stand a
chance.

For a moment, Kelly wished her mother was
home so she could get some last minute advice, but that was just
nervousness on her part. She’d been watching her mother throw
dinner parties for years; she knew what to do.

She spent an hour setting the table, getting
the tablecloth just right and arranging the china and crystal.

She checked the salad and the cheesecake in
the refrigerator. Both perfect. She put two large curlers in the
top of her hair and was flat ironing the sides when it was time to
put the curried chicken casserole in the oven. She ran down stairs,
took care of that, and hurried back upstairs to finish getting
dressed.

She was all dressed in a sheath made of
pastel silk, when she realized that the dress was too tight across
her stomach. She did not want to look fat tonight -- even if she
was. She looked nervously at the clock. Guests were due to arrive
in forty five minutes.

She’d have to find something else to
wear.

She stripped out of the dress and threw it on
her bed. She pulled out one of her looser skirts. Needed to be
ironed. It joined the dress on her bed.

Another skirt. It fit fine, but the blouse
that went with it needed to be washed.

Another skirt. Black three tiered skirt with
an ornately beaded hem. It looked fine. There was a black knit top
to match, but then she remembered that the table’s centerpiece was
all pale yellow and pink roses to match the silk dress she had
intended to wear.

She nearly swore with frustration. Her mother
made it look so easy. She always dressed to compliment rather than
clash with the table setting.

Kelly hurried downstairs to the dining room.
The roses would definitely have to go, but what could she use
instead?

She remembered the little black pots that
held her make-up and skin care lotions in the bathroom. Those would
make pretty candle holders, especially if she arranged them with
the red scarf she sometimes wore in her hair. She ran back upstairs
and down, and was breathlessly putting the finishing touches on the
centerpiece when Lars opened the front door.

“Kelly honey, I’m home,” he called.

How husbandly that sounded, she thought
happily, and turned to face him with a smile.

Lars stood with another gentleman and his
wife. Lars frowned. “I guess you need a few more minutes to get
ready,” he said, staring at her hair.

Kelly put her hand to her head. The curlers.
She’d forgotten to take them out, and now she’d have bush hair. How
embarrassing.
Every party has its little mishaps
, her mother
used to say.
The important thing is to be calm and flexible
.
“Excuse me,” Kelly said with what she hoped was a gracious smile.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

She hurried upstairs, and came back down,
fifteen minutes later, without the curlers.
Think calm
, she
told herself as she forced herself to walk slowly.
Think
elegant. Think poised.

Lars looked calm, elegant and poised in his
navy pinstripe suit. But then he always looked that way. He smiled
as she approached and put his arm around her waist. “And this
lovely woman is my wife,” he said proudly.

Kelly was duly introduced to a banker, a set
of married attorneys, and a man with such large eyebrows that she
didn’t catch his profession. The banker’s wife said, “You have a
beautiful home.”

“Thank you.” There was no need to tell her
that the accent pillows for the couch and the carved wooden flowers
on the coffee table had been delivered that morning. It all looked
fine now.

“Do you need any help in the kitchen?” one of
the other women asked.

“No, I’ll just check on the casserole,” she
said, and walked in the kitchen. Strange, she couldn’t smell
anything. She opened the oven door, and the casserole was still
cool. Room temperature. She checked the controls. She’d set the
temperature, but had forgotten to turn the oven on.

Damn.

The casserole took more than an hour to cook,
and she wasn’t sure how safe it would be to cook it now since it
had been sitting out so long. She didn’t want to give everyone food
poisoning.

Kelly looked in the refrigerator. Other than
the salad and dessert, she didn’t have enough of anything to feed
eight people.

She was definitely not her mother.

She sat down on one of the kitchen stools and
started to laugh. Lars glanced in. “What’s so funny?” he asked.

“How does pizza sound?”

#

It was a good thing she had changed clothes,
Kelly decided, because the banker’s wife was wearing the exact same
dress she had planned to wear. She looked better in it, too, with a
bigger bust and a flatter stomach. She was beautifully dressed: not
a hair out of place and perfectly manicured nails. She was also
spending a lot of time talking to Lars, resting her graceful hand
on his arm. They looked like the ideal couple and could easily pose
for the cover of FORBES magazine.

If Kelly were the jealous type, she’d scratch
her eyes out.

Lars smiled as he spoke with her.

Kelly wanted to scratch her eyes out.

“Are you all right?” The woman married to
Bushy Eyebrows asked.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Kelly said, smiling at her
guest. Part of being a good hostess was acting as if nothing
bothered you.

“Excuse me,” the woman said. “I don’t mean to
stare, but you have the most interesting earrings. Where did you
get them?”

Kelly reached up to her ears. What pair was
she wearing today? A dangly pair with turquoise and silver beads.
“Oh, these are some a friend of mine made. She makes jewelry.”

The woman pulled out a business card. “I run
an internet business. We sell clothing and some home decorating
items. If your friend would be interested, I would love to meet
her.”

Kelly glanced at the card. Oh, yes, now she
remembered her guest’s name was Sarah. In the confusion of being
late to her own party, she’d forgotten everyone’s name the minute
Lars introduced them.

“Kelly’s an artisan, too,” Lars said, walking
towards them. The banker’s wife followed after him.

“Oh, really?” Sarah asked politely. “What do
you do?”

“She made the pots on the table,” he said.
“And the planters by the foyer.” He pointed. “The vases on the
bookshelves, and the candy dish on the coffee table.”

The banker’s wife said with astonishment,
“You made all these?” in a tone that implied, Why bother?

Kelly had encountered that superior attitude
before. She lifted her chin. “Yes, I’m a potter by trade.”

Lars put his arm around her. “She’s being
modest. She’s more than just a potter. She wove the rug in the
dining room --”

Kelly interrupted. “Shh, you don’t need to
tell them everything I do.”

“Why not?” he said, giving her a quick kiss.
“I think you’re amazing.”

That was nice to hear, but it was
embarrassing, none the less. Kelly noticed that the banker’s wife,
having seen the kiss, wandered off towards the attorney, to sink
her claws into him.

Good for you, Kelly thought cattily as she
laid a possessive hand on Lars’ arm.
Go after someone else’s
husband.

Sarah said, “I don’t know if you’d be willing
to mass produce items, but I’d be interested in seeing more of your
work, too.”

Lars smiled proudly.
See, I told you
so
, his gaze seemed to say.

Kelly didn’t know if he was happy that
someone else liked her work, or pleased that there might be another
market in which to sell it.

Two hours later, Lars stuffed a cardboard
pizza box into a trash bag. “I usually hate dinner parties,” he
confessed, “But that wasn’t so bad. I think everyone had a good
time.”

Kelly had kicked off her shoes and sat at the
kitchen table, head in her hands. “Oh, please, don’t try to cheer
me up. It was a disaster, and you know it.”

“What was so terrible?”

“First of all, I look awful.”

He reached over to touch her hair. “I think
you look cute. Very retro.”

Cute was not what she’d been aiming for
tonight. Sexy, beautiful, elegant. Anything but cute. “I couldn’t
remember anyone’s name.”

He shrugged. “Next time, we’ll wear name
tags.”

How could he be so calm about it? “We ate
pizza on china!”

“I don’t think anyone minded. Everyone was
talking and having fun. And Sarah Crosby was very impressed with
your pots.”

Kelly shook her head. “She was being
polite.”

“It’s a lead worth following.”

She was right. He’d been trying to promote
her business. She changed the subject. “I hope tonight didn’t ruin
your chances of getting the financing you need.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it. Larry Hawkins had
two pieces of cheesecake.”

Kelly remembered that Larry Hawkins was the
banker, twice the age and twice the size of his pretty wife.

Lars smiled. “He went home fat and
happy.”

“Thanks to Mrs. Levine,” she said. “Next
time, I’ll pay her extra to supervise the whole event. I can’t
believe I didn’t turn on the oven. You must think I’m a ditz. “

“You were distracted. It could happen to
anyone.”

“But I wanted tonight to be perfect,” she
wailed dramatically.

“Why?”

She took a deep breath. “I wanted to make you
proud of me.”

“I am proud of you.”

“But I’m not the right wife for the President
of Rawlins Lighting.”

“Ah, so that’s the problem. Tell me, what is
the right wife like?”

She ticked off the qualifications on her
fingers. “A perfect hostess. Wears the right clothes, remembers
people’s names. Gets her nails done.”

He took her hands in his. Her fingernails
were short; her palm and fingers calloused from her work. He said,
“You have very nice hands. These are working hands, creative
hands.” He kissed her fingers.

She jerked them away. “You’re just trying to
make me feel better.”

He shook his head. “Kelly, if I’d wanted to
marry your mother, I wouldn’t have married you.”

“So why did you marry me?” she asked. “I
still don’t understand.”

He cupped her face with his hands. “I’ll give
you a hint,” he said, and brought his lips to hers.

Mmmmm, this was what she’d been waiting for.
Kelly sighed and drew closer, wrapping her arms around his waist.
He felt so warm and strong and male. Lars groaned and deepened the
kiss.

Kelly felt as if she’d stuck her finger in an
electric socket. Her entire body sizzled and she didn’t want to let
go. This was definitely the time to give up the shy routine. She
smiled against his lips, briefly breaking contact.

He pulled back for a second, his blue eyes
questioning her. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know about you, but I think we are
both wearing too many clothes.” She untucked his dress shirt and
slid her hands up against his muscled flesh.

Lars caught her hands. “Kelly, do you know
what you’re doing?” he asked in a husky voice.

She laughed recklessly. “No, but I’m going to
find out.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss his chin, his neck, his ear,
whatever she could reach.

Lars backed away, but she caught his tie.
“I’ve got you now. You’re not going anywhere,” she teased.

His eyes narrowed. “The last time we started
doing this, I ended up on the wrong side of a locked door.”

“Coward. Where’s your sense of --”

In a sudden move, Lars grabbed her around her
legs and lifted her up over his shoulder.

“--adventure?” She gasped. “Lars, what are
you doing?”

He growled. “Carrying you up to bed. Do you
have a problem with that?”

Kelly giggled. “No, no problem at all.”

He carried her upstairs, kicked open the door
to the master bedroom and dropped her on the bed. “What’s all this
mess?” he asked, as he loosened his tie and pulled it off over his
head.

In the rush to get ready for the party, she’d
left clothes, shoes and curlers strewn over the bed. “Don’t worry
about it,” she said and pushed the offending articles onto the
floor. “I’ll put it away later.”

“Good idea,” he said, and tossed his tie onto
the pile.

She should be more nervous, Kelly thought as
she watched him slip off his shoes and socks and start undoing the
buttons on his shirt. But all she could think was that this big
beautiful Viking was her husband.

He was hers, and she intended to keep
him.

He reached for the light switch. “On or off?”
he asked.

“I’m a Rawlins, what do you think?”

He smiled. “On it is.”

CHAPTER NINE

Good heavens, Kelly thought when it was all
over, and her heart stopped racing and she could breathe normally.
How could I have forgotten that?

She looked at Lars who lay beside her,
smiling. He ran a finger lazily across her bare shoulder and down
her arm.

“Wow,” she said weakly.

He laughed and kissed her leisurely. “How
I’ve missed you, Kelly.”

She snuggled closer, resting her head on his
gently rising chest. She felt so safe and secure, so completely
comfortable with this big, gentle man. Together she and Lars shared
more than passion. Their friendship had grown into something
infinitely more precious.
How blind I’ve been
, she realized,
and whispered, “I love you, Lars.”

She felt him stiffen.

She noticed that he wasn’t saying, “I love
you, too.”

She asked, “Do the words make you
uncomfortable?”

His voice was flat, expressionless. “Only
because I’ve heard it before.”

“From me.”

He nodded.

On their honeymoon, no doubt
. She
never would have said it if she hadn’t meant it, so that meant
she’d loved Lars when she married him. That made her feel a little
better about their quickie wedding. “Then why did I want to get a
divorce? There must be something you aren’t telling me.”