Kimberly Raye - Restless

“I needed some exercise. Say, Dolores, is that a new hairdo?”

Her curiosity faded into a sheepish expression. She touched a hand to her hair. “Why, yes. I mean, it’s still the same style, but I had a new color job done just this past week.”

“My compliments to your colorist.” He tipped his hat and Dolores actually blushed.

Paige blinked just to make sure she was actually seeing correctly. Dolores Guiness never blushed. She made other people blush all the time with her know-it-all attitude and her all-seeing eyes, but never succumbed to turning red herself. Paige blinked a second time just for good measure. Sure enough, there was no mistaking the stain pinking Dolores’ chubby cheeks.

“It’s a shame you’re out in all this heat, though.”

“What?”

“I mean, a pretty hairdo like that won’t stand up for long in this. Is it always this hot?”

“My, my.” She clicked the button on her fan. “It is hot.”

“What happened to bearable?” Paige arched an eyebrow.

“I can’t very well go to the ladies’ auxiliary tea with wilted hair, now can I?” Dolores gathered up her purse and her notes. “I’ll just finish these notes up downstairs in the diner where it’s cool.”

“Sounds like a good idea.” He winked and Dolores blushed again before heading out the doorway.

“You’re related, all right.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The only other person who’s ever made Dolores turn that shade of red would be your brother Jimmy.”

“What can I say?” He shrugged. “It’s a gift.”

A few moments of silence ticked by before Paige finally found her voice. “So why are you here?”

“I was returning my tux.”

“I mean here, here.”

“You forgot this last night.” He held up his hand and for the first time, she noted the battered bridal bouquet that he held.

“Thanks. I’d forgotten all about it.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“What? That I’m having memory loss?”

He grinned. “That you were so shaken up after our dance that you couldn’t think straight.”

“You think so?”

“Darlin’, I know so. You wanted to kiss me.”

“You wanted me to kiss you. If I had wanted to kiss you, I would have.” She glanced at her watch. “I have to get going. I’ve got an SAT meeting over at the activity center.” She gathered up her purse and notebook.

“I’ll show you the way.”

“I know the way.”

“Then you can show me the way. I don’t think I’ve seen the new activity center. When was that built? Last year?”

“About five years ago.”

“I don’t get around town much when I’m home.”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“What?” he asked, as he followed her down the steps.

“Following me.”

“Maybe I’ve always wanted to go to a SAT meeting.”

“Do you even know what SAT stands for?” When he grinned, she shook her head, then elaborated. “It stands for Sick and Tired.”

“That’s just what I was going to say.” He fell into step beside her. “Sick and tired of what?”

She smiled at him. Maybe it was a good thing he was following her. If he was so determined to make a nuisance of himself, the next half hour would undoubtedly change his mind. “You’ll see.”

“I don’t know if I like the tone of your voice.”

“Too late to chicken out now. Come on.” She took his arm and tugged him down the street.

“SO I TOLD HIM,” Harriet Miller said, “I would really like dessert.” She shook her head. “Do you really need that dessert? Harvey asks me.” She frowned. “So I said, I want that dessert. I deserve it, Harvey. I deserve it.” Her words met with a round of applause from the other women seated around the circle of chairs that comprised Sick and Tired, the women’s empowerment group Paige had been hosting for the past month.

“That’s wonderful,” Paige told the woman, desperately trying to ignore the man who leaned against the wall just inside the doorway, his arms folded as he watched her.

She’d expected him to run the other way the minute he discovered the nature of the group. Not many men felt comfortable in a group of venting women, but he’d simply smiled, said hello to several of the ladies he knew, and propped himself inside the doorway.

“So what did you have?” Louisa Jenkins asked. “The brownie or the apple pie?”

“The apple pie,” Harriet declared with a smile. “With a double scoop of ice cream and caramel sauce.”

“Atta girl!”

“You go, honey!”

“Score one for women everywhere.”

“Thank you, Harriett,” Paige told the woman, determined to ignore the way her skin flushed hot and cold every time she glanced at Jack. She was making it a point to avoid glancing at him or even thinking about him. She’d made it twenty-five minutes already. She could handle a few more. “That was a wonderful example of exercising your empowerment. Does anyone else have anything they would like to share? A moment when you realized you needed to speak up for yourself and did. Or maybe you simply realized it, but haven’t yet had the courage to make the stand. Either way, we’re here to listen.” Paige glanced around the group, careful not to let her gaze linger too long on Jenny Turnover, the newest addition to Sick and Tired.

Most of the group was comprised of women rebelling against their husbands, but Paige had the feeling that Jenny had more bothering her than a spouse nagging her to lose five pounds, or one that wanted his beer brought to him in a glass rather than a can. There was a glimmer of fear in Jenny’s eyes that Paige recognized all too well.

“Anyone? Remember, we’re here to help each other. To encourage and listen.” The group remained silent and Paige clapped her hands. “Well, then, let’s end today’s session with a few words of encouragement. As women, we need to speak up for ourselves and do what we think is right. We don’t have to fit into the mold that society has shaped for us. I hope you all remember that. And don’t forget, you are special. You’re entitled to the best things in life. Until next week, ladies.”

After a little chitchat, the group disbursed and Paige turned to gather up her notes.

She paused, every nerve in her body going on instant alert when she felt Jack’s hand on her arm. She turned toward him.

“Now I know what’s wrong with you. This,” he fluffed her ruffled sleeve, “is just a disguise. You’re really a man-hater.”

“I do not hate men. Just because I’m a capable woman and I encourage other women to be capable, doesn’t mean I don’t like the opposite sex.”

“You don’t like me.” He seemed proud of the fact.

“I don’t dislike you. You’re just not my type.”

“But you want me anyway.”

“I do not.”

“Oh really?” He fingered her nipple through the thin fabric of her dress.

She stepped back from his touch. “That’s just physical.”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” And before she could say a word, his lips covered hers.

His mouth moved against hers, his tongue sweeping her bottom lip, begging her to open up and let him inside, and for a split second, she couldn’t think or even breathe. Her heart all but stopped beating and she just stood there, feeling him against her, coaxing her, seducing her.

His arms pulled her close and his body pressed the length of hers, his heat overwhelming her until her knees actually went limp. His tongue teased and his lips nibbled and she couldn’t stop her mouth from opening. He swept inside, tasting and stroking and stealing her common sense for a long, heart-pounding moment.

When he finally pulled away and stared down at her, she simply stared up at him.