Читать книгу The Pregnancy Pact - Kandy Shepherd, Cara Colter - Страница 23
ОглавлениеJESSIE LEANED TOWARD HIM, looking at him with heavy-lidded eyes.
Pretty woman...walking down the street... The music seemed to explode into the small dressing room and waiting area. Jessica gasped and put her hand to her throat, wobbled on the high heels.
Kade was in front of her instantly, looking down at her with concern.
“Sorry,” she said. “I keep startling from loud noises.”
He cocked his head at her. The room flooded with Roy Orbison’s distinctive vocals. Kade took one step closer to her. He held out his hand, and she didn’t hesitate, not for one second. She took his hand. Kade drew her to him and rocked her against him.
And then, as if they had planned it, as if they had never stopped dancing with each other, they were moving together. Even though the tempo of the song was fast, they did not dance that way.
They slow danced around the waiting area, their bodies clinging to each other, their gazes locked. The music faded, but they didn’t let go, but stood very still, drinking each other in, as if they could make up for a whole year lost.
Holly burst in. “How cool was that, that I found—” She stopped. “Whoa. You two are hot.”
Kade’s arms slid away from Jessica. He stepped back. He swept a hand through his hair. “We’ll take it,” he said.
“That dress?” Holly said.
“No. Everything. Every single thing she tried on.”
Jessica’s mouth opened, but the protest was stuck somewhere in her throat, and not a single sound came out. She turned and went back into the change cubicle.
“Wear this one,” Holly suggested, following her in. She dug through the pile of clothing to the very first outfit Jessica had tired on, the jade top and skirt.
But she didn’t want to wear that one. Her world felt totally rattled by what had just happened, by how spontaneously she and Kade had gone into each other’s arms. She wanted to feel safe again.
“Where’s the dress I came in here with?”
Holly giggled. “He told me to throw it away.”
“What?”
“Yeah, he said to grab it at my first opportunity and dispose of it.”
“And you just listened to him? That’s outrageous.”
“He’s very masterful,” Holly said with an unapologetic sigh. “Besides—” she winked “—he’s the one with the credit card.”
Jessica thought of the frank male appreciation in his eyes as she had modeled her new outfits, and she contemplated how she was feeling right now.
Alive. One hundred percent in the land of the living, the life force tingling along the surface of her skin. Did she really want to go back to safety? To reclaim that familiar wooden feeling she had lived with for so long?
Why not, just for today, embrace this? That she was alive? And that her life was alight with the unexpected element of fun? And with the unexpected sizzle of attraction between her and the man she had married.
They left the store with Kade’s arms loaded with parcels, and with her feeling fresh and flirty and like a breath of spring in the first outfit she had tried on. He had paid for everything.
“I’ll pay you back,” she said. He had insisted on buying every single thing she had donned, even the evening gown.
Since the theme of the day was fun, she’d given in. But buying the gown? That was just silly. She had nowhere to wear an evening gown. Her future plans did not involve anything that would require formal wear. In fact, she needed to be stocking up on comfy pants and sweatshirts that could hold up to baby puke and other fluids associated with the delights of motherhood.
But she had been so caught up in the moment, and the dress had made her feel so uncharacteristically glamorous—sexy, even—that she had actually wanted to be silly. She had wanted to purchase that piece of silk and gossamer that had made her feel better than a movie star.
She should have protested more—she knew that when the bill was totaled—but the look in his eyes when he had seen her had sold every single outfit to her. She’d had a ridiculous sense of needing those clothes, though in her heart, she knew what she wanted was the look in his eyes. “Once we sell the house, I’ll pay you back,” she said firmly.
“Whatever. Hey, this stuff is already heavy. Look. There’s one of those rickshaw things being pulled by a bike. Have you ever been in one of those?”
“No.”
He juggled the packages to his left arm, put his two fingers to his lips and let out a piercing whistle. The driver, a fit-looking twentysomething guy, pulled over.
“Where to?”
“Ah, we aren’t sure yet. I think we need you for the day. Have you got a day rate?”
“I do now!”
Jessica knew she should have protested when the driver named his rate, but somehow she just couldn’t. She and Kade piled into the narrow seat of the rickshaw, squished together, all their packages bunched in with them.
“Where to?”
“We need a picnic lunch,” Kade decided. “And a bottle of wine. And a forest. Maybe Yan’s for the lunch. Do you feel like Szechuan?”
She thought of all those menus she had sorted through yesterday, each one representing a memory. She loved Szechuan-style Chinese food. “Two orders of ginger beef,” she reminded him.
Their driver took off across the downtown, darting in and out of traffic, getting them honked at, shaking his fist and yelling obscenities at drivers of vehicles.
It was hysterically funny, and she could not stop laughing. That wondrous feeling of being alive continued to tingle along the surface of her skin.
“You’re going to get us killed,” she said with a laugh as a cab they had cut off laid on the horn. She clung to Kade’s arm as the rickshaw swayed violently, and then their driver bumped up on a curb. “Or get my other arm broken.”
He twirled an imaginary moustache. “Ah, getting you right where I want you. Helpless. And then I can ply my lethal charms against you.”
* * *
Kade flopped down on the blanket that he had purchased. The driver had found them a quiet spot on Prince’s Island, and had managed to make himself scarce while Kade and Jessica enjoyed their picnic under a leafy tree, with the sound of the river in the background. Now, after too much food, and most of a bottle of wine, Kade felt sleepy and relaxed.
“Two orders of ginger beef,” he moaned. “It’s masochistic.”
“Nobody was forcing you to eat it.”
“You know why we always have to buy two, though.” Always, as if there was not a yearlong blank spot in their relationship, as if they could just pick up where they had left off. He considered where they had left off, and thought, despite his current level of comfort with Jessica, why would they want to?
“Yes, we always have to buy two because you eat the first one by yourself, and most of the second one.”
“Guilty,” he moaned. “My tummy hurts, Jessie.”
“And three spring rolls,” she reminded him. “And most of the sizzling rice.” Despite the sternness in her tone, when he opened one eye, she was smiling. She looked as utterly content as he could remember her looking in a long, long time.
He lifted up his shirt and showed her his tummy. She sighed, and scooted over beside him, that teeny-tiny skirt hitching way up her legs, and rubbed his stomach with gentle hands.
“Ah,” he said, and closed his eyes. Maybe it was because he had not slept well last night, or maybe it was because he had eaten too much, or maybe it was because his world felt right for the first time in over a year, but with a sigh of contentment, he went to sleep.
When he woke up, she was sleeping curled up beside him. He slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side, being careful of her arm.
“Did we fall asleep?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Is our driver still here? Or did he take off with all my new stuff?”
Kade got up on one elbow. He could see the rickshaw over by the riverbank. When he craned his head, he could see the driver tapping earnestly at his phone with his thumbs.
“I haven’t paid him yet. He’s not going anywhere.” He slid his own phone out of his pocket and checked the time. “Holy, it’s four o’clock already.”
“It’s been a perfect day,” she said.
“Agreed. What was the best part for you? The shopping? I love the long dress.”
“I don’t have a single place to wear a dress like that,” she said. “I shouldn’t have bought it.”
“Yes, you should have. I want you to accept it as a gift from me. You can pay me back for the rest of that stuff if you insist—”
“Which I do!”
“But I want to buy that dress.”
“Why do you want to buy me a dress that I probably will never wear?”
“Wear it around the house. Put a movie on, and wear it to watch it. Eat popcorn in it.”
She laughed. “That seems eccentric and foolhardy. What if I got butter on it?”
“That’s what I liked about it. You know what it reminded me of, Jess?”
“No. What?” She held her breath.
“It reminded me of those paintings you used to do, the ones that were all swirling colors and amazing motion.”
“I haven’t thought about those for years,” she said.
“Save the dress and wear it to the unveiling of your first art show.”
She laughed a little nervously. “I’m not having a first art show.”
“But that’s what I’ve always wondered. Where did that part of you go?”
“I paint murals,” she said. “That’s my creative outlet.”
“I don’t think bunnies on walls do justice to your gifts,” he said.
“I don’t care what you think!” she snapped. “Sorry. Let’s not ruin the moment with you telling me how to live my life.”
She was right. This was not any of his business, not anymore. Maybe it never had been.
“Is there any ginger beef left?” he asked wistfully.
“No.”
“How about sizzling rice?”
And then the moment of tension was gone, and she laughed and passed him the container. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to go home to his place together. And then to say good-night with unnatural formality and to go to their separate bedrooms.
The next morning, they both got up. He ordered croissants again. She came out to eat one in the too-large shirt.
“I guess I should have been shopping for pajamas instead of evening dresses,” she said.
What kind of kettle of worms would it open up, he wondered, if he said he liked what she had on—his shirt—way better than pajamas?
“Are you coming back here after you’ve finished work?” he asked her. He was holding his breath waiting for her reply.
“I guess,” she said, and he heard in her voice the very same things he was feeling. What were they reopening, exactly, by living under the same roof? What were they moving toward? Were they putting a framework in place for their future relationship? Was it possible they could be one of those rare amicably divorced couples who were friends?
He hoped things would become clear in the next few days, because he did not like uncertainty. And at the moment, his future seemed murky, like looking into a most uncooperative crystal ball.
