Luck of the Draw (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 1) (25 page)

“What was that all about?” Jim asked.

Grace shrugged. “He said he’d give me fifty bucks if I blew him a kiss and wiggled my booty.”

Jim’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “I’m not even going to ask how you came to that agreement.”

“It’s no big deal.”

“Tell that to Jeff.”

“When are you going to stop teasing him?” Rachel asked. “He’s a good guy. It’s not fair to lead him on like that.”

Grace grabbed the dessert menu and began fanning herself with it. “You know why.”

“Why?” Jim asked. “Jeff’s a decent guy. Plus, he has a job. That’s better than your last boyfriend.”

Grace rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t understand. Jeff Dayton doesn’t ‘date.’ Not like a normal person.”

“What are you talking about? He’s dating someone new every time I turn around.” Jim pulled up a chair next to Kate.

“Maybe he’s only happy on the hunt,” said Doug. “As soon as things get serious, he loses interest. Some guys are like that. They don’t stick around.”

“He never struck me as being like that,” said Jim.

Rachel twirled her wedding ring then set her hands in her lap. “Maybe there’s someone in his past no one else can compare to.”

“I don’t think he even remembers when we were together,” said Grace. “Anyway, it’s all ancient history now.”

Grace and Jeff dated? Kate looked toward Rachel who was rummaging for something in her purse. Doug abruptly excused himself to wash hands.

Kate scooted her chair over to let Doug out as the waitress arrived to take their drink orders. Jim also adjusted his seat, his knee brushing hers lightly and sending electric shocks up her thigh. Kate scooted her chair a respectable distance away again.

A moment later, Jim leaned toward her ear. “So why didn’t
you
, um, flip your skirt and wiggle your booty?”

Kate pressed her lips together, the heat rising in her face
—along with other parts of her body. Jim’s hazel eyes were dark and playful and reminded her of how he’d looked when he’d arrived at the cottage after the fire call the night before last. “It’s only a skort. And maybe I didn’t feel like it.”

“
Hmm
. But, as a float promoting the Gifts for the Greater Good, I would think you’d want to spread goodwill any way you could.”

She couldn’t suppress a smile. “Goodwill, huh?  I suppose I do feel strongly about supporting charities.”

“Indeed.”

“And, it
is
important to bring attention to a worthy cause.”

“You’d get my attention.”

She hid another smile in her napkin then paused as their drinks arrived and they placed their dessert orders.

Jim leaned in again until his mouth was a hairs-breadth from her ear. “So, just to clarify, is a skort one of those skirt-short things?”

She knew her face was more than pink now but didn’t care. Flirting with him felt too good. Easy. This was light and casual, right? “Yes. Why?”

He shrugged and slanted a sly grin at her as he pulled the wrapper off his straw. “Just curious.”

“Do you think I’m the kind of woman who’d consider doing that if I
weren’t
wearing a skort?” she whispered.

His knee slid against her thigh again. She didn’t move away this time. “Well, considering some certain comments about the French Riviera you’ve made in the past, I have to say it does bring it into question...”

“All’s fair in love and war,” she murmured.

“Not that I’m complaining.”

She met his eyes. “You’re not, are you?”

“No way. You can wiggle your booty in my direction anytime you feel like it.”

“Good to know.” She sipped her drink and leaned in to him. The hair at his temple was damp with sweat and very sexy. “Just to clarify, is that with a skort... or without?”

He choked on his iced tea, and Kate patted his back, a wicked part of her enjoying his discomfiture more than she could say.

“Whatever feels right,” he finally managed.

“Would you two stop whispering down there?” Grace demanded. “I can’t hear a thing you’re saying over the A/C.”

“I think that’s the point,” Doug said dryly as he took his seat again.

The waitress arrived with desserts for those who’d ordered them and the conversation moved to more neutral ground. Jim sipped his tea and dug into his fried ice cream with gusto. “Want a bite?” he invited.

Kate shook her head, too aware of his thigh against her knee to think about eating. It felt strangely intimate to be touching under the table, their hands and words perfectly poised and presentable above-board. Intimate. And confusing.

Wasn’t she the one who’d given him the whole speech on just being friends? So what was she doing flirting and touching his knee under the table? Not that he seemed to mind, precisely, but...

“Guess who we ran into at the parade?” Doug asked, stealing a spoonful of Rachel’s dessert.

“
Doug—
” Jim warned.

“Justine. She’s moving. Out of town.”

“Good riddance,” Grace muttered.

“It’s for the best,” Rachel agreed.

“Who’s Justine?” Kate asked.

“Jim’s ex,” Rachel said,
sotto voce
.

“I’m right here, Rach.”

Kate glanced toward him. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he insisted.

“You’re better off without her,” Rachel assured him.

“Didn’t have much choice,” Grace murmured.

“Had you been together long?” Kate asked.

Jim sipped his tea. Toyed with his straw. “Two years.”

“She reunited with her husband over Valentine’s Day,” Rachel informed Kate in a healthy whisper. “Jim was devastated.”

“I wasn’t devastated,” he asserted, still toying with his straw.

“She was married?” Kate asked.

Jim winced.

“They were separated,” Doug interjected.

“He was a jerk,” Grace added. She looked around the table. “I mean her husband! A friend of mine worked for him once. He was always leaving the office at the drop of a hat leaving everyone else to pick up the slack. Totally self-absorbed.”

Jim rubbed his temple as if fighting off a headache.

“Why would she go back with him if he was such a jerk?” Rachel wondered aloud.

Jim dropped his spoon into his bowl with a clatter. “Maybe she loved him. Who the hell knows? I’m done talking about it. Anyone else done?”

Rachel pursed her lips and nodded. “We’re done.”

Jim shoved another spoonful of dessert into his mouth with considerably less enthusiasm than before.

A married woman?
It settled oddly in Kate’s gut to think about Jim with anyone, much less a married woman. Not that she had any claim to him. Not after yesterday morning’s speech. But didn’t this prove how wrong any further involvement would be? She obviously didn’t know a thing about him. Crud, she’d chosen toilet paper with greater care.

Though she didn’t blame him for not wanting to talk about it. Who would want to have their failed relationships paraded around for discussion? Families meant well, but sometimes they didn’t get it.

Besides, knowing his track record in the love department was no better than hers was perversely satisfying. She had been beginning to feel as if he was too good to be true. Poor guy.

She set a tentative hand on his arm. He glanced up.

“I’m sorry,” she mouthed.

He shook his head. “It’s in the past. Over. Enough said.” She let her hand slip away as he stood up. “You know, I hate to break up the party, but I’ve got some stuff to take care of this afternoon before the lumberyard closes. If anyone wants the rest of my ice cream... I think I’ll head out.”

Grace reached forward. “I’ll take it!”

“Jim,” Rachel pleaded, “we didn’t mean
—”

He shook his head as he fished some bills out of his wallet for the tab. “Don’t, Rach. I’m fine. Just done.” He started to leave then turned back again. “Kate? Eight-thirty still okay with you? Fireworks start at nine.”

She watched him, wondering whether any of this was a good idea, figured it probably wasn’t, then nodded anyway. “Eight-thirty is fine.”

“T
HEY HAD BALLOONS! AND AMINALS! And trucks!” Liam said excitedly as he zipped around the cottage’s living room, his dark hair plastered with sweat to his forehead. “An’ I gots ice cream with splinkles!”

Kate narrowly avoided getting knocked over by the whirling dervish that resembled her son and dumped the contents of Jim’s cap onto the kitchen counter. Nana unwrapped a chocolate chew and popped it in her mouth.

“Can I have one, too?” asked Liam.

Kate shooed him away. “You’ve had enough sugar to last you a few more hours. Go run around while I get things cleaned up.”

She pulled out a heat-softened candy from Jim’s hat and snuck it into the trash. “This chocolate will be impossible to clean out.”

“It’s on the inside,” Nana said breezily, “I wouldn’t worry about it.

“I know, but Jim was nice enough to collect it and not just let Liam stuff his face with whatever he could fit in it.” Kate eyed her grandmother. “I thought you were only going for ice cream. How did Liam end up with twelve candy wrappers in his pocket?”

Nana snitched another candy and shrugged. “I told him not to overdo.”

“Right. Like a three year-old is going to exhibit self-control. Nana. Admit it. You’re hopelessly indulgent with him.”

“I’m the only great-grandparent he’s got. Lord knows I won’t be here forever. He ought to enjoy me while he has me.”

Kate ran a sponge under the faucet. “You’re lucky he didn’t throw up on your shoes.”

“Like when Randy was supposedly watching him on Easter?”

Too true. And Kate would have been left to clean up—again. Randy had always treated her like his personal hazmat team. Whatever mess he made, he expected her to swoop in and clean it up. Mend fences. Wipe her brush of vanilla paint over all his garish mistakes and make them right again.

The problem was, somewhere along the line, she’d taken that same vanilla brush and run right over herself.

Kate stopped scrubbing Jim’s cap and looked at the blur of brown on the inside rim. Deliberately squeezing out the sponge, she set the hopelessly stained cap on the dish drainer to dry.

She wasn’t going to make herself Jim’s hazmat crew.

She wasn’t going to be
that
Kate ever again.

“Don’t eat too much candy. I’m going to see if I can settle Liam for his nap.”

A
FTER
N
ANA LEFT AND
L
IAM WAS settled, Kate took a quick, cooling shower, then logged onto the Internet. She checked her e-mail, shot off a couple quick answers to questions posed by other calendar candidates and laughed when she saw Jeff Dayton’s photo. She’d have to tactfully suggest he have someone take a shot that was a tad less... intimidating.

Her chat window popped up.

Jim: 
Hey! Long time no chat.

Kate paused, her pulse leaping, then typed a reply.

Liz: 
Busy. Busy. So many men, so little time... :)

Jim:
 
Something tells me you can handle it.

Liz:
 
Oh, yeah. I’m a regular Liz-of-all-trades.

Jim:
 
Nothing wrong with an independent woman.

Liz:
 
And here I thought men liked saving damsels in distress.

Jim:
 
Only in the movies. In real life? Not so much so.

Liz:
 
You mean
I’ve been marketing myself wrong all these years?Just kidding. What’s up?

Jim:
 
Wondering if you had a chance to look at the photos I sent you?

Liz:
 
Not yet. Sorry. I wasn’t kidding about the other men in my life. LOL

Jim:
 
You’re involved with other men? I’m shocked. And here I thought I was the only one...
 
I’m leaning toward the first one, the one where I’ve got one foot on the sawhorse. You?

Liz:
 
Okay, looking at photos now...

Kate opened up the photos and looked at each.

Liz: 
I like that one, too. Nice smile. I’m also partial to the one with you in the lake.

Jim:
 
Which one?

Liz:
 
The second. The one where your hand is on the dock. I like your expression.

Jim:
 
I’m still wearing a T-shirt. You sure the bare-chested one isn’t better?