Part 14 (1/2)

But she . . . yeah, she looked like she'd been smashed with a mal et.

”You can't be serious,” she said, her breath ragged.

”Yeah,” he told her. ”I can.”

”We've never even kissed.”

”I've noticed,” he said sourly. ”But we'l make up for that real soon.”

”I'm never getting married. I couldn't even make my engagement work, remember?” There was a definite note of panic in her voice now. ”And you're divorced, so you shouldn't take this so lightly either.”

He knew what she was doing: throwing out excuse after excuse, whatever she could think of, as if she could talk him out of loving her. Like he'd say, Yeah, good point-I don't want to marry you after all.

She was wasting her time.

”Here's the thing, Lisa,” he said, unable to keep the fervency out of his voice even though, judging by her platter- sized eyes, he was scaring her more by the second. ”That guy wasn't right for you and I'd never've gotten married if you were available. You should've waited for me. You know that in your gut, don't you?”

”I don't know anything-”

She broke off and looked wildly over her shoulder down the hal , where the rubberized sound of approaching wheels on the hardwood floors was growing.

”Oh, G.o.d, here comes Keenan again. Please, please, Cruz, I'm begging you-can we talk about this tomorrow?”

For one beat-two, maybe-Cruz felt guilty for pressing her like this, but he kept his eyes on the prize and the momentary weakness pa.s.sed. ”It's not going to be easier tomorrow, Lisita.”

Lisa went absolutely stil . ”Don't cal me that-”

”Shhh. ” Temptation got the better of him, or maybe it was just that he was tired of fighting it after so many years.

Aware of Keenan's imminent arrival and knowing, but not caring, that this wasn't the right time, Cruz leaned in, irresistibly drawn to those lips.

Just a taste, he told himself. What could it hurt?

She made a smal peep of surprise but didn't pul back, so he took that as permission. No, more than that-it was an invitation, especial y when he saw the smoldering heat in her eyes as they slipped to half-mast.

”Querida, ” he murmured.

By now he was almost shaking with the force of his desire and excitement. Keeping his eyes open so he didn't miss one detail of her reaction, he licked her. Ran his tongue slowly . . . slowly . . . across her mouth and savored the faint traces of wine and the sweetness that was purely Lisa. And then he pressed one gentle, lingering kiss on her dewy-soft mouth to brand her as his for al time.

She knew it, too. A crooning whimper rose up out of her throat and she surged closer, as desperate for him as he was for her. But then she seemed to realize what she was doing, or maybe the flaming contact between them was too much. The reason real y didn't matter.

Al that mattered was that for the second time that night she jerked away from him. Lunging to her feet, she hurried to the ar moire just as Keenan rol ed back into the room.

The interruption nearly kil ed Cruz. He cursed and flung himself back against the sofa cus.h.i.+ons, his body screaming b.l.o.o.d.y murder at the loss of her. His skin felt tight, his muscles rigid, his blood boiling hot. He pressed his palms to his temples, praying for control, but G.o.d only laughed at him.

Lisa fidgeted with the stack of CDs, looking as agitated as he felt, and that sure didn't help him with his control issue.

Lisa.

He pressed his fingers to his lips to hold her kiss there and imprint it deeper into his flesh. He would make her his or happily die trying.

”What's going on?” said Keenan into the heavy silence.

Judging by the suspicious note in his voice and the hard edge in his expression as he looked to Cruz for an answer, Keenan knew exactly what was going on. It could hardly be a surprise; though he'd never openly discussed his feelings for Lisa, Cruz sure hadn't hidden them either.

”We need to talk, man,” Cruz told him.

Lisa rushed over, two bright patches of color on her cheeks. ”No you don't.” Flas.h.i.+ng a quel ing glare at Cruz, she smiled at Keenan and held out an arm for Atticus, who happily climbed up to her shoulder. ”There's nothing to talk about, and Atticus wants to change the music, don't you?”

Atticus chittered with excitement.

”Let's go.” Lisa turned back to the stereo, selected a CD and let Atticus put it in while Keenan studied Cruz with the open distrust he'd probably use on a bridge salesman. The new music started-Santana now, one of Lisa's favorites- and Lisa and Atticus came back.

”Atticus wants to open his present.” Resuming her seat on the sofa, she reached out to scratch the thick black thatch of bad-toupee hair atop the monkey's head. ”Don't you, buddy?”

Atticus resumed his seat on Keenan's lap and grinned at her, revealing sharp yel ow teeth.

”Lisa,” Cruz began.

”Not now,” she said pleasantly, not looking at him.

Keenan was stil staring at Cruz. Actual y it was now a ful -blown I'm going to kill you first chance I get glare, and Cruz waited for him to hurl an accusation or two, but he didn't. Instead, Keenan handed a rainbow-striped gift bag to Atticus.

”Here you go, buddy,” he said. ”Open. Open.”

Manic with excitement, Atticus chattered as he yanked the red tissue paper out, threw it to the floor, and withdrew a box he tried without success to open. He looked to Keenan for help, whining.

”Uh-oh.” Keenan's nostrils flared. He fumbled with the box, trying to get his clumsy fingers to slide under the flaps, but no dice.

Cruz s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably, prepared to give Keenan a minute and see how he fared, but Lisa moved to help him.

Cruz put a staying hand on her arm just as Keenan shot her an annoyed look.

”I can manage,” Keenan snapped, red-faced and deep into one of his flashes of frustrated anger. ”I don't need you rescuing me al the time.”

Abashed, Lisa held her hands up and backed off. ”Okay, okay.”

At last Keenan got the box open and Atticus went wild.

Screeching and delighted, as though he'd received a lifetime's supply of marshmal ows, the monkey went to work extracting his gift. It was a toddler's tool kit, the wooden hammer, wrench, screw driver, and screws painted in bright colors to match the tool box.

Atticus knew exactly what to do with it, too; he stuck one of the screws in its hole in the side of the tool box, turned it a time or two with the screwdriver, and looked around to make sure they'd al observed his bril iant accomplishment.

”Eeeee-eeeee-eeeee!” Atticus screeched. ”Eeeee- eeeee-eeeee!”

The three humans, having been through this dril before, clapped and cheered. ”Good job, Atticus,” Lisa said. ”Good job.”

Atticus rewarded her with another wide grin and then picked up the hammer and started banging it against the box's handle.

”Maybe now you two can tel me,” Keenan said, low, his color returning to normal now that his brief bout of frustration was behind him, ”what the hel is going on.”