Naturally Naughty - Leslie Kelly [27]
She shrugged, appearing unconvinced. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to hers. Her hands snaked around his neck, and she deepened the kiss, as if making one of her memories—this time, the feel of him in her arms. He made one, too.
“I will call. So can you give me your number and save me from having to dig through my neighbor’s recycling bins, trying to find a month-old newspaper with your name and store address?”
She chuckled. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a small pink card and handed it to him. He palmed it. “Thanks.”
She got into her car, then lowered the window. “I had a great time tonight, Jack. Thanks to you, from now on when I think of Pleasantville, I’ll have much more pleasant memories.”
He leaned in to kiss her one more time. “I’ll see you in two days. I promise.” He watched as she drove away.
Still holding the business card in his hand, he headed back to his mother’s house. He hadn’t even closed the door behind him when she waylaid him in the foyer. “Where have you been? And who were you kissing? Elmira Finley called this afternoon and said you and some stranger made a spectacle of yourselves outside the Tea Room!” She paused only long enough to take a long sip of her drink. Her favorite cocktail—a glass of vodka with a thimbleful of orange juice to turn the thing a murky peach color.
He walked past her. “I wouldn’t call it a spectacle.”
“How could you? And who was she? Nobody recognized her.”
His sister Angela entered from the living room and gave him an amused look. “So, the golden boy gets a turn as black sheep.”
“Who, J.J.?” his mother stressed, ignoring Angela.
Jack glanced at the business card, which he’d tucked into his pocket. Jones. Katherine Jones. Of course. Her thick, long, dark hair and name had made him think of Catherine Zeta-Jones when he saw the picture in the paper. “Her name’s Kate Jones.”
The glass slid from his mother’s fingers and crashed to the tile floor, shattering into several sharp pieces.
“Mother?”
She shook her head, saying nothing. Angela, however, didn’t remain silent. “You’ve got to be kidding. Kate Jones is back here? I can’t believe she’d show her face in town now.”
He narrowed his eyes and stared at his sister.
“You know who she is, Jack. For heaven’s sake, she’s one of those trashy Tremaine women.”
Jack clenched his teeth. “I don’t care what her connection is to this town. She doesn’t live here now, and neither do I.”
“You can’t mean to see her again,” his mother said, sounding on the verge of tears. “Edie, her mother…”
He instantly understood. Kate was Edie’s daughter. He’d forgotten all about the fact that Edie had moved home to Pleasantville as a widow with a little girl so many years ago. He’d been only a kid of eleven or twelve himself.
His instant connection to Kate sure made sense. Edie was one of the nicest people he’d ever known. “Mother, it’s fine. Kate’s wonderful, honest and open, like Edie. You’d like her.”
Angela stepped over the broken glass until she stood next to him. “Honest? Open? Get real. How can you call the woman who’d been banging our father for twenty years honest and open?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re on dangerous ground, Ang.”
“Come on, Jack, the whole town knows it,” Angela said. “Including Mom, who, if I’m not mistaken, was happy about it. Free maid service because Edie felt so guilty, plus you got to avoid any icky sex with Dad. Isn’t that what you said, Mom?”
Jack looked at his mother, waiting for her to deny it. He expected her to faint, cry or yell. She did none of these. In fact, there was only one way to describe her expression.
Guilty as sin.
“SO, HE STILL hasn’t called?”
Kate looked up from her office computer screen and frowned at Armand. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
He waved an airy hand. “Remember who you’re talking to.”
Kate smirked. “Your sexual preference is showing.” Armand hated to be thought of as flaming, though he occasionally