Overheated Read online

  “It’s me, Amber.” Crystal stepped out to where her sister could see her. “Where’ve you been?”

  Amber’s expression turned defiant. She sauntered the rest of the way into the apartment, dropping a jeweled purse on the tattered table beside the door. A man appeared behind her, and Larry held his gaze for a long second.

  He was thin and long limbed. His hair could have used a cut, and he sported a straggly goatee on pale, sallow skin. His eyes had the glaze of liquor and recreational drugs.

  Neither of them spoke.

  “Well?” Larry prompted. “Crystal’s wondering where you’ve been.”

  “Out,” said Amber, plopping down on the couch. “The Flambé Bar, the Harold Club. Oh, and the Buzz Bomb. That was a blast.” She turned to Zane. “Wasn’t it, baby?”

  The man gave a slow, slick smile. “A blast.”

  Crystal elbowed her way past Larry. His instinct was to stop her, but he didn’t want to overstep his bounds.

  “You told Lisa you’d be home by ten.”

  Amber’s fuzzy eyes narrowed in puzzlement, then they opened wider in comprehension. “Oh. You mean the babysitter?”

  “Jennifer called me,” said Crystal.

  Amber waved a dismissive hand. “We were only a little bit late.”

  Zane moved forward. “Yeah. What’s the big deal?”

  Larry stepped forward, too, positioning himself behind Crystal. He placed his hands on her shoulders and stared at Zane. “Time for you to say good night.”

  Zane opened his mouth, but then apparently thought better of it. He leaned down to give Amber a slack kiss. “Later, babe.”

  She whirled her head around to look at him. “Will you call tomorrow?”

  Larry felt Crystal tense beneath his hands.

  “Yeah. Sure. Got some business to take care of in the morning.” Zane shot Larry a smug look that said he was a freewheeling, high roller of an entrepreneur.

  Larry took in his sad manicure and bargain basement shoes, and remained completely unimpressed.

  Zane made a gun out of his thumb and forefinger, aiming it in Larry’s direction before pulling the trigger. Larry supposed it was meant to intimidate, but Zane was the one walking away, so it came off as desperate and pathetic.

  The door shut behind Zane, and Crystal immediately confronted her sister.

  “You can’t do this, Amber,” she warned.

  “Do what? Have a little fun? Party with my husband? I got a frickin’ babysitter, didn’t I?”

  “You were almost three hours late coming home.”

  Amber sighed, and tipped her head back on the couch. “The band was awesome.” Then she started humming a song.

  “You want me to take the kids home with me?” asked Crystal.

  Amber’s head snapped up. “No. I don’t want you to take my kids home with you. I’m here now.”

  “Will you feel like getting up in the morning?” Crystal tried.

  “I’ll be fine. The school is having sports day tomorrow, and David’s going to a birthday party after that.”

  “Did you remember to buy a present?”

  “Of course I remembered to buy a present. Who the hell died and made you the lifestyle police?”

  “Crystal,” Larry interrupted. “Didn’t you promise Jennifer you’d say good night?”

  Crystal stared at him for a moment, as if she’d just remembered he was there. Then she gave a nod and rose from her chair. “I’ll be right back.”

  Larry waited until Crystal disappeared down the hall. Then perched on the edge of the chair she had abandoned.

  “I’m Larry,” he said, holding out his hand.

  “Amber,” Amber responded, suspiciously.

  Larry nodded, glancing around thoughtfully. “Struggling to hold it all together, are you?”

  She shrugged. “Been busy lately.”

  “With Zane?”

  “Yes. With Zane.”

  Larry nodded again.

  “What?” she asked sharply.

  Larry decided there was no percentage in beating around the bush. Crystal did enough of that for both of them. He was going for broke.

  “You can do better than him.”

  “Better than Zane?”

  “A lot better. You have two kids to think about.”

  “Zane’s their father.”

  “That doesn’t mean he’s good for you.”

  “How would you know? What makes you an expert on what’s right for my kids? Two parents getting back together, that’s what’s right for my kids.”

  “Keeping you out three hours late isn’t right.”

  “How do you know I didn’t keep him out?” She plunked a throw pillow into her lap. “Maybe I don’t want to be Mommy twenty-four seven. You have any kids?”

  “I have a son.”

  She glanced pointedly at her watch. “Where is he now?”

  “He’s an adult.”

  “Where’s his mother?”

  Larry kept his voice even. This wasn’t about him. “She died.”

  Crystal reappeared, and Amber glanced from Larry to Crystal and back again. “What’s the story with you two?”

  Crystal looked startled. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, why are you together at one in the morning?”

  “We were on a date,” said Larry.

  “You don’t think he’s a little old?”

  “Amber!”

  Amber gestured at Larry. “Well, he’s out here giving me a lecture on how I can do better than Zane. Maybe I think you can do better than Larry.”

  “I’m quite sure she can,” Larry said quietly.

  “I can’t,” said Crystal. “And I don’t want to. And how the hell did this get to be any of your business?”

  “You’re in my house, talking about my relationship.”

  Crystal took a deep breath. “You’ll get the kids to school tomorrow?”

  Amber glared at her.

  “Okay,” said Crystal, moving toward the door.

  Larry rose to go with her.

  “You and Zane are your own business,” Crystal conceded. “But if you go out with him again, you call me. I’ll babysit. Anytime.”

  The anger went out of Amber’s expression. “Thanks, sis.”

  “You’ll call?”

  “Of course.” Her laughter tinkled lightly. “Why would I say no to free babysitting?”

  Crystal glanced at Larry, knowing he was the one who had paid Lisa tonight. He gave her a subtle shake of his head. He had no desire to make an issue of it. Jennifer and David were great kids. He had no objection at all to kicking in for their care.

  He and Crystal walked silently down the stairs and out onto the sidewalk where Rufus waited in the car.

  “I really don’t know what to say,” she finally offered.

  He hit the unlock button on the car, heading for the passenger side to open her door. “Neither do I,” he told her honestly. “The weekend didn’t exactly end the way I’d expected.”

  She coughed out a laugh. “It didn’t turn out anything like I’d expected.”

  Larry smiled in return as he opened the door.

  She paused partway in. “Want to do it again sometime?”

  “All of it?” he asked, not bothering to mask the hope in his voice.

  “Any and all,” she replied.

  “You busy next weekend?”

  “Nope.”

  “You busy tomorrow night?”

  She shook her head.

  “What about now? You busy right now?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut for a second. “I really have to sleep.”

  He smoothed back her hair. “Of course you do.” It was one o’clock. And there was no good place for them to sleep together. He didn’t want to take her to a motel.

  Maybe he’d rearrange his house tomorrow, move his old bed into the guest room and buy a brand new one. He was single now, and it was time for him to make the space his own.

  He shifted
his hand so it was cupping her cheek, leaning down to give her a gentle kiss on the mouth. “Dinner at my place tomorrow?”

  She drew back, giving him a questioning look.

  “I want you to see it,” he told her.

  There were so many things he wanted to show her, to tell her, to discuss with her. He knew his emotions were running way too hot, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. He was a revving engine, and she was nitrous oxide.

  “Tomorrow,” he promised.

  “Love it,” she responded with a smile.

  CHAPTER NINE

  A S C RYSTAL MUNCHED HER WAY through her morning cereal, she couldn’t decide which to put on the top of her worry list: her sister, her niece and nephew, or her burgeoning feelings for Larry.

  She’d spent the weekend with a man.

  She’d made love with him, and she’d have done it again had the date not ended abruptly. He was fun and funny, attractive and intelligent. And his sex appeal was off the charts. The men in her future were going to have one heck of a time measuring up.

  If there were any men in her future.

  At the moment, she couldn’t imagine herself with anyone other than Larry. Which led to an interesting question. Where did they go from here?

  Since her disaster of a marriage with Simon, she hadn’t thought much about the future with any individual man. She’d had a generic fantasy in the back of her mind of a husband and children, a picket fence and a dog.

  Her gaze strayed to Rufus where he was snoring on the living-room mat. He wasn’t what she’d pictured for the dog, but he was growing on her. And now she, astonishingly, had trouble imagining any other dog.

  Just like she had trouble imagining any other man.

  But Larry might not want more children. She knew Dean was in his late forties, so Larry must be fairly close to the same age. She hadn’t asked, because asking made it seem like it mattered, and it really didn’t. Except when it came to the tricky question of children.

  Steve was completely grown up. He had a great career. He was engaged and about to embark on his own life. Heck, Larry could become a grandfather in the next few years. Why would he want to become a new father?

  And, really, why on earth was she obsessing about this? They’d slept together one time. They’d had, technically, three dates. And here she was planning their happily ever after. Larry would probably break out in hives if he had the slightest inkling of the direction her thoughts were taking.

  There was a shuffling noise on her porch as somebody reached the top of the stairs.

  Rufus’s ears perked up, and Crystal rose in anticipation of a knock. Maybe it was Larry. And maybe she should wipe this stupid, dreamy expression off her face and behave like an adult.

  “Crystal?” her mother called through the closed door.

  “Hey, Mom.” She quickly wiped the expression off as her mother turned the knob to enter.

  “You coming down to work today?” her mother asked without preamble.

  Crystal nodded. “Sure. Something going on?”

  Stella closed the door behind her. She was dressed in no-nonsense charcoal slacks with a pale-blue, Softco Machine Works collared shirt tucked into the waistband. She’d always tended toward stocky, but she was solid and healthy and still full of energy, even though she was in her fifties.

  “Just the usual,” she said. Then her gaze went to Rufus, and she wrinkled her nose. “I came up on Saturday, but it looked like you were away.”

  “I went to the race at Dover.” No sense beating around the bush. Amber had met Larry last night, and word would be out in the family by the end of the week. “With Larry Grosso.”

  Her mother’s expression tightened. “I thought he was helping you with your cookbook.”

  “We’re also friends.”

  “Friends?”

  “We like each other. We enjoy each other’s company.”

  Stella’s face pinched in suspicion, but she didn’t voice the obvious question. “Your father and I wanted to talk to you.”

  Crystal’s first thought was about Amber. Or maybe it was Larry. Then she had the horrible thought that one of her parents could be ill.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Pretty much,” said Stella.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I want to talk to you later, with your father and Amber.”

  “Mom.”

  “You’ll just have to be patient. This curiosity of yours has always been a problem.”

  “I’m not curious.”

  Her mother frowned at her.

  Crystal wanted to press further, but Stella was as stubborn as they came. Stella wanted a family conference, and she’d wanted to pique Crystal’s interest. She had.

  “What time?”

  “Six.”

  “For dinner?”

  “Of course for dinner.”

  So much for her date with Larry. “Did Amber say yes?” On the bright side, at least it would keep Amber away from Zane tonight.

  Then Crystal had another thought. “Are the kids coming?” She didn’t want any more marginal babysitting situations.

  “I haven’t talked to Amber yet.”

  “Make sure she brings them.”

  Stella stared at her with a probing curiosity. But Crystal wasn’t about to crack. She could play things equally close to the chest.

  After her mother left, Crystal went straight to the phone, dialing Larry’s number, which had mysteriously lodged itself in her brain. Funny, it usually took her weeks or months to memorize a number.

  “Larry Grosso,” came his clipped greeting.

  “Larry, it’s Crystal.”

  His tone immediately softened. “Hey, Crystal.”

  “Sorry to bother you.”

  “What makes you think it’s a bother?”

  She found herself unaccountably nervous. “Well, you weren’t expecting me to call…”

  “I love it when you call.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. What’s up?”

  She cleared her throat. “My mother just invited me for dinner tonight.”

  Silence.

  “It’s some kind of family conference. Something big, or at least big in her mind. Amber’s invited, too.”

  “Then our date is off.”

  She sighed. “Afraid so.”

  He was silent again.

  “I’m sorry,” she quickly told him, putting all the sincerity she could muster into her voice. “Really sorry.”

  “How late will it go?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Call me after?”

  “Yeah?” She couldn’t help the almost breathless tone of anticipation.

  “Yeah,” he assured her. “Call me as soon as you’re done.”

  LARRY DIDN’T BELIEVE IN LUCK. He believed in hard, cold facts as proven out millions of times a day through the laws of physics and mathematics. But it sure seemed like fate was throwing a lot of roadblocks in his way when it came to Crystal. Given how anxious he was to spend time with her, and how interested she seemed in spending time with him, the law of averages said they should have gotten together more times than they’d managed so far.

  If he was a superstitious man, he might be getting a little worried. But he wasn’t, and he wouldn’t, and he was going to finish redecorating the bedroom.

  As usual, he’d been up since four. He’d hauled the guest bed down to the basement, moved Libby’s brass bed into the guest room, and was busy reallocating her touches to the living room and dining room.

  She’d loved watercolors, where he preferred oils. The mauve and pink floral painting that had hung above their bed was now at one end of the formal dining room. He’d taken a pair of seascapes from the living room and put them on the wall of the bedroom. He’d found a massive, dark oak four-poster in an Internet catalogue this morning. It was being delivered from a local store at noon.

  Libby had chosen a French provincial loveseat for their b
ay window alcove. Larry was replacing it with a pair of hunter-green leather armchairs. The dressers were fine, but the doilies and cut glass perfume bottles could be put away. And right now, he was heading for the hardware store to find a light fixture that would suit his new vision of the room.

  “Dad?” Steve’s voice drifted up from the downstairs entry, and there was the sound of the front door closing behind him.

  Larry quickly headed out of the master bedroom, hit with a sudden flash of guilt.

  “On my way down,” he called over the railing.

  He trotted down the stairs to see his son in the entry hall in a blue golf shirt and a pair of navy slacks.

  “Where’s Heidi?” he asked, surprised to find Steve alone so soon after their romantic reunion.

  “She’s at the vet clinic.” Steve frowned. “What’s this I’m hearing about you and Crystal Hayes?”

  Larry slowed to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. “What is it you’re hearing?”

  “That you spent this past weekend together.”

  “Where are you hearing that?”

  Steve took a step forward. “What does it matter?”

  “It matters a great deal. I don’t like people gossiping about her.”

  “About her? That’s what you’re worried about? What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Are you having a midlife crisis?”

  “What the hell kind of a question is that?”

  “You want a sports car, Dad? Because I can get you a sports car.”

  “I don’t want a sports car,” Larry growled. He hated that his own son could write off his feelings as nothing more than some statistical hormone grasp at youth.

  “You do know she’s younger than I am,” Steve accused.

  No. Larry hadn’t known that. Quite frankly, he’d been afraid to ask. It shouldn’t surprise him. It didn’t surprise him. But, damn, it would have been nice if she was a respectable thirty-five.

  “I want to know who’s gossiping about her,” he told his son.

  “Everybody.”

  “Well, everybody ought to get a life. We’re friends. We’ve been on two or three dates.”

  “Dates?” Steve snorted his disbelief. “Uncle Dean thinks you’re sleeping with her.”

  “My personal life is none of Uncle Dean’s business.”