Blushing Pink Page 3

  "The guy is desperate," she muttered.

  "I take your word on that," Michael said, nodding.

  "So what's this book about? The one that you're writing?"

  "Oh... it's... well, it's sort of tedious."

  Amiably, her father said, "Don't worry; I'm resilient. Let's hear it."

  "Well, let's see... the basic thesis of Kimble's book is that history teaches people what they can learn about the discovery of the past."

  Michael furrowed his eyebrows, confused—as well he should've been—and said, "I don't think I follow."

  "Yeah, it's probably best not to try."

  "Isn't that sort of the definition of history?"

  "Uh, pretty much."

  He squinted, still perplexed, and Reese shook her head. "I know, Dad. Believe me, I know."

  "So is that his whole 'argument'?" Michael snorted. "Well, what are you supposed to do with that?"

  She shrugged. "I don't know, this and that. Whatever fills the page, usually. But it's not all me. Professor Kimble usually gives me some notes or tapes of dictation, stuff like that."

  "But what notes? I mean, what sources is the man using?"

  "Oh, you'd be surprised how many books there are to misappropriate passages from." A small laugh burst suddenly from her throat, and then her father cracked up, too. When you really think about it, hell, it is ridiculous. Sort of like my life.

  Michael chuckled a little more. He shook his head, puffed his dried-cherry pipe twice, and stated, "As I said, sweetheart, I don't like this guy."

  Chapter 3

  Reese reached for a towel and screamed. "Jeez, you startled the hell out of me!" she said on a breath, and scrambled to cover up her dripping, naked body.

  "I'm sorry," Ally said, propping herself cross-legged on the toilet lid. "I knocked, but there was no answer. I wanted to catch you before you put your pajamas on."

  "How'd you know I was gonna do that?" Reese asked, stepping out onto the fuzzy, peach-colored bath rug.

  "Because I know your style," Ally replied.

  "I have a style?" Reese said sarcastically.

  Ally hopped to her feet. "Come on."

  "Come on where?"

  "Come on out with me and Ben," she said, gently pushing Reese out of the bathroom and down the hall.

  "But I thought you'd already been out with Ben," Reese said over her still-damp shoulder.

  "Yeah, we were skating at the pond. He's downstairs now, waiting for me." She steered Reese to the right and over the threshold of her bedroom. "We're all supposed to meet Lane and her new boyfriend out."

  Reese came to a dead halt. "Forget it," she said firmly. "There is no way I'm gonna be the fifth-wheel single loser when I could be home watching television. Uh-uh, no way."

  Ally laughed. "Come on; it's gonna be fun." Briskly she moved past her and went to Reese's closet. "Anyway, you've gotta come; everyone's expecting you."

  "You liar."

  "Now, would I lie to you?" Ally called out disingenuously, while rooting loudly through hangers and garments. "Let's see what we've got here... hmm, what can you wear?"

  Reese ambled across the room, while Ally continued mumbling from the closet. As Reese took out a clean pair of underwear she said casually, "Um, just so you know, I haven't worn anything in that closet since I was nineteen. I brought my clothes with me." Keeping her towel clutched to her breasts, she pulled a pair of flannel pajama pants from her duffel bag.

  Ally let out a sharp whistle from the closet doorway. "Stop right there—what do you think you're doing?"

  "Um—"

  "Reese, it's your first night home. Aren't you even gonna hang out with me and Ben?"

  "But—"

  Abruptly Ally softened her tone—going from indignation to soulful lament in 0.5 seconds. "Reese, we're sisters, and we never even hang out anymore."

  She lowered her eyes and shook her head. "It's sad, really."

  Reese let out a laugh. "Oh, please. Does Ben know this manipulative side of you?"

  Ally grinned up at her. "Uh-uh... I've manipulated him into blind submission. Now come on." Reese realized that she would have to relent, despite the fact that she was tired and did not want to go out with two couples, and especially did not want to go out with Lane McBride and her latest guido.

  Still, Ally was right. Reese hadn't spent much time with her in the last couple of months because she had been so swamped with school. Anyway, her little sister might be maddeningly uncompromising, but it was fabulous to see her again.

  Ally crossed the room, coming up beside Reese, and pulled out a pair of blue jeans and a soft green sweater from the duffel bag.

  Reese frowned, but took them. "Fine," she said, "I'll go, but don't expect me to make a lot of mind-numbing conversation with Lane. You know she drives me crazy."

  "No problem," Ally said brightly. "Even though she likes you." Reese shot her a sideways look, and Ally held up her hands. "Hey, she does. I'm just letting you know."

  "Mmm-hmm, thanks." Ally had always had a blind spot where Lane was concerned because they'd been friends since they were kids. Although, to the best of Reese's recollection, Lane had been annoying as hell even then. She was gorgeous, with long blond hair that was curly enough to be distinct, but relaxed enough to be "cascading"—and she was stick skinny with a big chest. Yet these were not even her most annoying qualities. The real problem with Lane McBride was her god-awful personality: cooing, cutesy, and fake to the point of nauseating.

  Plus, despite the fact that she came from money and had brand names draped off every appendage, she was a hopeless freeloader. With Ally, who was clueless about money, freeloading was a snap. The bridesmaid dress was just the latest case in point.

  "Did you have fun at the pond?" Reese asked as she zipped up her jeans and started shimmying in place to loosen the fabric's hold on her ass.

  "Yeah, sure," Ally replied, now sitting on the floor, rifling through Reese's bag.

  "Now what are you looking for?"

  She shrugged. "I'm just seeing if there's anything good I can borrow while you're home."

  "By the way, have you seen Angela's haircut yet?"

  "Oh, yeah, it's sooo cute." She looked up from her scavenging. "What's up with Angela, do you know?"

  "What do you mean?" Reese asked, wondering that very thing.

  Ally shrugged. "I don't know; she just seems depressed lately. I don't think she's getting along with Drew."

  "How come you think that?" Reese pressed, bending down to tie her laces.

  "I don't know; it's just a vibe I've been getting when they come over for dinner. Maybe I'm wrong. She hasn't said anything, so—"

  "No, I think you're right. On the phone she didn't sound completely like herself, but she didn't say anything about Drew, so I didn't push it."

  "Hmm. Well, don't worry; we'll get it out of her. Now that you're home, it's probably all gonna come out."

  "Why?" Reese asked.

  "I don't know; you have that effect," Ally said simply, then jumped to her feet. "Ready, cutie?" she asked, smiling.

  "Uh-huh," Reese managed. She was still not too thrilled about going, but she knew she couldn't get out of it. They left her room and headed for the stairs. "By the way," Reese said, as they descended, "where are we meeting Lane and her boyfriend?"

  "Oh, some diner in Clifton. Ben knows which one it is."

  "Oh."

  "Yeah, it's easiest for everyone because Lane's boyfriend lives around there. And it's not too far from the city, so Brian Doren can meet us there with no trouble."

  Reese came to a jarring stop on the fourth step from the bottom. She turned her head slowly. "W-what do you mean?"

  "What?"

  "I thought... I mean..." She licked her lips. "Brian Doren's coming, too?"

  "Oh, yeah. Ben asked if he could meet us."

  "But why?" Reese asked, trying not to sound as panicky as she was. She was definitely not prepared to see Brian again. What would she say? Would he
mention that night they'd met? And if he did, would he say anything about the kiss, just assuming that Reese had told Ally about it long ago. She hadn't told Ally. In fact, she hadn't told a soul, and she wasn't particularly hoping that it would come out tonight.

  Her heart was beating irregularly fast now, and her palms were clamming up.

  "Ben wants to give Brian the rings. He's gonna hold them for us 'cause he's the best man, but Ben's almost lost them four times already, so I told him he has to give them to Brian—like, now."

  Reese swallowed and forced a casual "Oh."

  Okay, she had to get a grip on her nerves—she was definitely making too much of this. So it was one very hot kiss, two long years ago. Brian probably didn't even remember it, much less plan to bring it up in front of everyone. Really, for all she knew, he might not even remember her.

  "Reese, come on; snap out of it," Ally said, tugging on her arm. "Are you ready or what?"

  I sincerely hope so.

  * * *

  As soon as they entered the Applegate Diner, Reese's senses were hit by the glare of mirrored walls and the synthetic lilting of Lane McBride's laugh. "There she is," Ally said, waving at her friend, who sat in a booth across from a hulking man with short dark hair. She gave a coy but enthusiastic wave back, while her companion merely spared an apathetic glance.

  Ally took Ben's hand and started heading over when Reese said, "I'll meet you guys at the table. I'm gonna go to the bathroom first." Looking from side to side, she quickly spotted large wooden placards designating "ladies" and "gents."

  Once she was inside, her nose burned with the pungent smell of disinfectant. She stopped in front of the large rectangular mirror trimmed with an overlapping diamond pattern. She honestly didn't know why she was lingering on her reflection, because she looked the same as she always looked. But for some reason, at that moment, she felt particularly unenthralled about what she saw in front of her. She sighed. Why was it some days people just looked innately uglier than usual? And why did she even care at the moment?

  She lingered a few more moments, used the facilities, washed her hands, and left the rest room. She made her way down the narrow corridor, around the bend, and into the dining area.

  And that was when she came to a dead halt. Oh, God. She'd known Brian Doren was supposed to meet them there, but apparently she hadn't been prepared for the reality of it—the intense, unsettling anxiousness instantly brought on by the sight of him. He must have arrived while she was staring pathetically at her lackluster reflection.

  He looked different than she'd recalled—much more vivid. She'd remembered that he was about six-one, with soft brown hair and a lightly tanned complexion. And that he had an extremely sexy smile, magnetically dark eyes, and a thick, masculine voice that had made her blood run hot. Still, seeing him now was a jolt to her system.

  Shivers rolled down her spine, and hard pulsations thumped in her chest and between her legs. She couldn't hear his voice in her head now; she only remembered the effect it had had when she'd met him two years ago. Of course that begged the question: Would it have the same effect when she heard it again today?

  He was sitting next to Lane in the booth, and as usual, Ally and Ben were "riding the bus," so the only seat open was the one at the end—right next to Brian.

  As she slid into the booth, her heart raced fast and hard beneath her breasts. Suddenly she was catapulted into a flashback of the night she'd spent two years earlier, when Ally and Ben had dragged her to a New Year's party, and she'd met Brian.

  The party itself was somewhat of a blur. She remembered that she'd been almost immediately attracted to Brian. Tall, dark, handsome—she couldn't figure out why he didn't have girls all over him. Oh, wait, she'd been all over him. But that didn't really count because he'd been so adorable and sweet, and also, she hadn't kissed a man since Pete. And as far as kissing went, Brian's was incredible. Especially compared to every other man Reese had kissed in her life, who all came from the same school of hard mouths, whipping tongues, and biting teeth. Not that she'd kissed all that many people, but still, it was what she'd come to expect. But Brian was different; he'd raised the bar. Well, briefly, anyway. The only person she'd kissed since was Kenneth, who'd dropped the bar. Hell, he'd buried the bar.

  Absently, Reese ran her fingers across her mouth now, remembering that moment—and the way Brian had moved his lips softly on hers, just gently coaxing them open. When he'd slid his tongue inside her mouth, it was slow and scorching. It had felt so unbelievably good that she'd lost control. Much like the boys who'd kissed her too aggressively in the past, Reese had been too excited to slow down.

  Feverishly, she'd grabbed Brian by his sweater and pulled him down, while she stood on tiptoes, crushed her open mouth against his, and crushed him—body to body—against the wall, wildly French-kissing in the deserted hallway of an uptown apartment, at an otherwise overrated New Year's Eve party. She remembered him sliding a palm up to her breast, another over her behind, and lightly squeezing both.

  It was only after the ball dropping excitement quieted, that they pulled apart, lips wet, but still vaguely connected by lingering saliva and unspent longing. Okay, obviously the night wasn't such a blur.

  Reese remembered hearing Ally's voice from the other room asking if anyone had seen her sister. She remembered moving off Brian's body, feeling his hard, enticing groin before they parted, and wishing he hadn't waited until the end of the party to make his move.

  Later, she'd felt too stupid to tell her sister. And when Brian had never pursued her afterward, Reese had simply buried the night—remembering it as a hell of a kiss, and a moment of weakness on her part. End of story.

  Or not. Otherwise, why would her memory be stronger and more visceral now than ever? And why couldn't she force her damn feet to move?

  Finally she snapped to attention and traversed the speckled tile, feeling more nauseous with each step. She couldn't begin to explain the jolting reaction she was having to Brian, even to herself. All she could do was pray that no one noticed it.

  "Ooh, Reese, there you are!" Lane cooed, flapping her fingers. Reese's smile hello wavered as she very deliberately kept her eyes off of Brian. But she could avoid acknowledging him for only so long. He was, after all, right beside her. And more to the point, he was in the middle of saying hello himself.

  "Hi, Reese." He was smiling, but he sounded somewhere between friendly and cursory—which kicked up Reese's need to act only vaguely aware of him.

  "Hi," she said quickly, and turned her attention to Lane—always an act of utter desperation. "So, Lane... I haven't seen you for a while," she said. "How have you been?"

  Lane glowed with radiant, Cheshire insincerity. "Ooh, I know—it's been way too long! Reese, I want you to meet Tom," she said, motioning to her companion across the table. "Tom, this is Ally's big sister." She hung on the word "big" a little too long to have been an accident.

  "Hi," Reese said.

  Tom wasn't quite as eloquent. He graced Reese with a quick nod, and went back to sipping his Coke. In that tiny span of time, though, Reese gave him a brief once-over: sculpted upper body outlined by a black spandex T-shirt, hair cemented in place with gel, a quarter-sized gold medallion hanging around his neck. The skin just below his eyebrows was exceptionally shiny, indicating a very recent wax, and his default expression appeared to be cocky-as-hell.

  Yes, this would be what Ally often referred to as "Lane's type."

  Lord, the booth was a tight fit. Reese shifted a little because that was all she could shift. Brian's leg was brushing hers, yet they'd barely said hello. For some reason that struck her as ironic. At the moment, Brian was saying something to Ben, who was across from him, and Lane and Ally were having a conversation diagonally over that.

  Reese, however, was sitting there feeling unbelievably self-conscious and awkward, not to mention ashamed of her rudeness.

  For over a year, she had known that Brian Doren was Ben's best man—she had known t
hat she would see him at the wedding, and she had figured it would be uncomfortable, but nothing she couldn't handle. Remember her brilliant plan? So there was absolutely no excuse for the tailspin she was in, for the nervousness, for the unbelievably strong stirrings of sexual attraction that were fogging her brain.

  God, this was not like her. Her nerves were so frazzled, she was afraid at any second she might throw up in Brian's lap.

  "Reese?"

  "Oh... what?"

  Lane squeal-giggled, and said, "You were a million miles away! I was just saying that your hair looks different than I remembered." Reese automatically touched the back of her head. It felt the same. "Are you growing out a perm?"

  "No," Reese replied, feeling her face fill with heat. "It's just... like this."

  Lane tilted her head, confused, and everyone glanced over at Reese's hairdo. Reese smiled a little sheepishly, as Brian's eyes caught hers, and he smiled warmly back.

  The table was quickly distracted—Ally and Ben by the menu they were sharing, Lane and Tom by some inane conversation. Brian was still looking at Reese—well, more in her direction. It suddenly occurred to her that he might be feeling a little skittish around her, too. The thought alone helped calm her nerves.

  "So..." he began softly, "Ally mentioned that you're still in school."

  "Oh, yeah, I am."

  "Crewlyn, right?"

  "Yes, I—"

  "Ooh, 'scusey, you two," Lane interrupted, lurching forward as she spoke. "I've gotta use the little girls' room."

  "Oh, of course," Brian said quickly and politely, poising himself to slide out. Once Reese shuffled out of the booth, followed by Brian, Lane brushed past both. Brian turned his head and gave Reese a small smile before sitting back down—but then his expression changed. It was as if he had just noticed something odd.