Naturally Naughty - Leslie Kelly [69]
“So why are you asking about it?”
“It’s some kind of dice game. I’ve been invited to come over to play with some of the women tomorrow night. I don’t know much about it. The friends I hang out with in Chicago are more into lunch dates, shopping trips and cocktail parties than Tupperware gatherings or Bunko nights.”
Her mention of cocktail parties reminded him of something. Knowing it was a long shot, given Kate’s dislike of the Lilac Hill set in town, he asked anyway. “Speaking of parties, I’ve been asked to attend one at city hall Saturday night. A welcome reception for the new mayor.”
She stiffened in his arms.
“I’d like you to come with me, Kate.”
He could have predicted her answer. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“Come on, what’s the big deal? You’re obviously getting involved with some of the townspeople, anyway. With your big Bunko orgy and all.”
She laughed, probably in spite of herself. “It’s not the same thing. Those are not the same type of townspeople.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Oh, so you’re a snob? You choose to associate only with your kind of people?”
When fire flashed in her eyes, he knew he’d said just the right thing. He prodded further. “Come on, you know you’re every bit as good as any other person here. You’re probably worth more than anyone who lives on Lilac Hill. Don’t let childhood hurts affect the decisions you make today.”
She sucked in a deep breath, staring at his face. He saw a variety of expressions rush across her face…hurt, confusion, then acceptance. “You’re right,” she whispered.
“That’s my girl. The party is at eight.”
“I’m sure I have something in my closet I could wear.”
“Crotchless tights?” he asked hopefully.
She lightly bit the skin just above his nipple. “It’s a little hot for that.” As he sighed in disappointment, she whispered, “But probably perfect for crotchless panties.”
THE NEXT AFTERNOON, as she stood in front of her closet trying to figure out what one wore to a Bunko night, Kate’s cell phone rang. When she heard Cassie’s voice, she told her about her plans for the evening.
“Are you sure it’s a game, and not some swinging women’s party with male strippers and livestock?”
Kate snorted. “Why, would you like to come?”
“Nah, can’t do it. I’m on my way outta town.”
Pausing with a jean skirt and a red peasant blouse in her hand, Kate said, “Where do you think you’re going?”
When Cassie explained she was making a quick weekend trip to New York for her agent’s birthday, Kate tried to talk her out of it. Cassie was not to be dissuaded. She was sick of hiding out like a victim. She was going. Period.
“All right, Cass, but please promise me you’ll be careful. And call me when you’re leaving Sunday afternoon so I can drive up to the airport to get you.”
Kate cut the connection before she remembered to tell Cassie about tomorrow night’s cocktail party. Just as well. She still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to go, and wasn’t sure she could make Cassie understand why.
Hell, she barely understood why herself. She only knew something had changed within her. Somehow, from the time she’d seen Mrs. McIntyre outside the Tea Room the day before, Kate had been unable to stop thinking about everything that had happened.
She’d been angry for years because Mrs. McIntyre hated her without reason. Now she wondered—was she any different? Darren’s mother hated the Tremaine family because her husband had taken up with Flo. Kate had hated the Winfields because John Winfield had strung her mother along for two decades.
Yes, she had reason to resent Angela because of Darren, and prom night. But, really, who the hell cared what had happened in high school, ten years ago? No, she and Angela would never be friends, but there wasn’t any reason they should be enemies, either. John Winfield was dead. His family wasn’t responsible for his sins…they didn’t even know about them! So what kind of hypocrite would she be to keep blaming them?
The thought rankled.
“And Jack.” She had no reason to