Epilogue
One Year Later
CASSIE LIFTED HER fingers to adjust the blindfold and felt a large, warm hand hold her back.
“Don’t touch it.”
Despite the warm night, she shivered at the rough whisper. “Then tell me where you’re taking me.”
“You’ll know it soon enough. Nervous, Cassie?”
Her body was tingling in awareness. Not fear, but arousal. “No,” she decided, and felt a stroke of work-roughened fingers over her jaw as a reward.
“Almost there,” Tag said, and tugged on her hand, making her stumble against him. Taking full advantage of that, his hands molded her body under the guise of supporting her. Her legs trembled—a direct result of his hands dallying on her breasts and between her thighs. Her surrendering sigh was swallowed by his mouth.
Long moments passed until they both came up for air, panting like a pair of hormonal teenagers. Then Tag lifted her, carried her for a moment before setting her down.
On sand.
He pulled off the blindfold. She stood on the beach—their beach—by the lake, lit only by the barest of moons.
“Today is exactly one year since you told everyone you were marrying me,” he said, tugging her down, laying her back, towering over her as he covered her body with his. Gathering her hands in his, he lifted them over her head and held her still. “But since you haven’t done that yet, I thought…”
“You thought…” She was breathless already. And dying for him. She’d have imagined this would have gotten old after one long year together but they still came together every single night as if they couldn’t get enough.
She had the feeling she would never be able to get enough.
“I thought it was time,” he said. “To set a date.”
Her entire body, straining for release only a moment before, jerked with shock.
Taking advantage of her pinned hands, he unbuttoned her sundress until she was bared to him. With a groan, he bent to a breast, worshipped a nipple. “How about Labor Day weekend? I have some time coming—”
“Tag.” Unable to think with his mouth on her, she bucked beneath him until he lifted his head. “Tag.”
“I know.” He kissed her so gently, so tenderly on the mouth it brought tears to her eyes. “It seems silly to need the paper. But I do. I need it, Cassie.” He stripped off his shirt, shoved down his jeans. Swept aside her panties.
And entered her. Then went absolutely still as he stared down into her face with so much emotion, her throat closed. “I love you, Cassie. I always dreamed of this, of asking my fantasy woman to be mine forever—”
“Don’t tell me I’m your fantasy woman.” She gasped when he stroked once, nearly begged for another one. “We…both know I’m not.”
“That’s what makes this so perfect. You’re better than my fantasy woman could ever be.” He stroked again and they both let out a helpless hum. “Oh, yeah, so much better.”
“Tag…” To make sure he wouldn’t stop again, she grabbed his butt and pulled him closer. “Keep going.”
“If you say it.”
“Tag…”
“Say it.”
“Okay.” Her eyes nearly drifted shut when he rewarded her with another thrust, but she forced them to stay open. She didn’t want to miss this. “I never wanted anyone in my heart, but somehow you wormed your way— Ouch!” She laughed when he bit her lower lip. “Okay, I let you in. I wanted you in. I love you. And yes, it’s time. I want to be your wife. Marry me, Tag.”
“Right now?”
“Yes. But…finish me first!”
His grin was full of both love and wickedness as he rubbed his jaw to hers. “As your heart desires.”
“My heart desires!”
Beneath the stars and in tune to the lake’s water gently hitting the shores at their feet, he did just that. Gave her everything her heart desired.
Leslie Kelly
NATURALLY NAUGHTY
To Jill Shalvis—a great critique partner, an even greater friend.
Thanks for always being there.
And, as always, to Bruce.
Thanks for the Christmas gifts/tax write-offs.
Research has never been more fun.
Prologue
Ten Years Ago
HOLDING HER PINK taffeta dress up to her knees, Kate Jones trudged toward home wishing the ground would open up and swallow her. Live burial seemed better than spending one more night in Pleasantville, Ohio. Her cousin’s favorite expression came to mind—This town’s about as pleasant as a yeast infection.
Without a doubt, this evening would have a place on Kate’s list of all-time worst experiences. No, it wasn’t nearly as bad as when her dad had died, or when her mom had brought her here to live, a town where their family was treated like dirt. In terms of teenage experiences, however, tonight was bad. Kate had been resoundingly dumped. On prom night no less.
You should have stayed, a voice whispered in her brain.
Kate snorted. “Stayed? After being jilted by Darren McIntyre for Angela Winfield, wickedest witch on earth? Right!”
Cassie wouldn’t have run away. No, her cousin would have popped Angela one, kicked Darren where it counted, and told them to stick it where the sun didn’t shine. Too bad she’d left early.
She passed another dark house. Its inhabitants were probably cozy in their beds, reflecting on their pleasant days. They wouldn’t think twice about her trudging in the street. Who’d expect anything else from a trashy Tremaine? Her last name might be Jones, but no one let her forget her mother’s maiden name. In spite of being a straight-A student who’d never gotten into any real trouble, people here believed Kate must have hit every no-good branch on her way down the Tremaine family tree.
Turning off Petunia onto Pansy Lane, Kate grimaced for the half-millionth time at the dumb street names. I’d love a giant bottle of Weed-B-Gone. She could think of a creeping pest she’d like to zap. Darren.
“Darren’s a conceited jerk.” Kate knew she shouldn’t have gone with him, especially since his mother hated her. But just for one night she’d wanted to be part of the in crowd. She’d wanted to be cool and popular, instead of the nice, quiet girl who tried to disguise her family’s poverty by getting good grades and working harder than anyone ever expected.
Tonight at the prom Angela had pawed all over Darren, urging him to ditch Kate and leave with her instead. The whole school knew Angela put out. And despite being a trashy Tremaine, Kate did not. Hmm, such a tough choice for Darren—Angela the tramp from the most respected family in town? Or Kate the pure, from the trashiest one? What was a horny eighteen-year-old boy to do?
He’d left so fast Kate’s head had spun.
Kate was nearly home when the rain started. “What did I do to deserve this?” she said as drops hit her face. She was long past the point of caring about her panty hose. Nor did she worry about her makeup smearing—her tears had accomplished that.
The rain was just one more insult in a rotten night.
Spying her family’s duplex, she prayed her mother was asleep, and Cassie home in the adjoining unit where she and Aunt Flo lived. If Cassie was home, Kate would knock on her bedroom wall, which butted right against Cassie’s in the next unit. They’d communicated by knocking on it since they were little girls. She’d signal her to sneak out back for one of their late-night gab sessions and fill her in about her lousy prom night.
Then she noticed a parked car out front. When her mother emerged from it, Kate wondered who Edie could have been out with so late. As a man exited she said, “Mayor Winfield?”
Yes, Angela’s father. Rich, jolly John Winfield who kept her mother busy cleaning his fancy house on Lilac Hill. Once again the mayor thought nothing of working Edie late in the night, as if she didn’t already spend forty hours a week scrubbing other people’s toilets. Kate raised a brow as the mayor played gentleman and walked her mother to the door.
Walk away, her inner voice said. But she couldn’t. Moving closer, she’d reached the steps when they began to kiss.
Kate moaned. Her gentle mother was having an affair with the very married mayor? John Winfield was the patriarch of the town, a family man, father of Angela and of town golden boy, J.J., who’d gone away to college years ago and hadn’t returned.
After their kiss Winfield said, “I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’ve made life bearable for me all these years.”
Years? Mr. Mayor, the pure saintly leader of Pleasantville, has been having an affair with his cleaning woman for years?
“Here,” Winfield continued, reaching into his pocket. “Your paycheck. I’m sorry it’s so late, sugar, you know how she is.”
A sweet smile softened her mother’s face. “I’m okay, John. If she’s overspent again and you’re in need, I can wait a bit.”
Kate shook her head in shock. The phone bill hadn’t been paid. They’d had canned soup and tuna sandwiches for dinner all week. And her mother was giving back her paycheck to the richest man in town? Worse…the son of a bitch took it.
Blinking away tears as she acknowledged her respectable, much-loved mother was the willing mistress of a married man, she darted around back. Kate instinctively headed toward the ramshackle tree house where she and Cassie had played as kids, seeking comfort like a child would seek her mother’s arms. Kate whimpered as she realized she no longer had that option. Her mother wasn’t the person she’d always thought she was.
Looking up as she approached, she saw a glow of light from within and the burning red tip of a cigarette.
Cassie. Kate paused. She simply could not tell her cousin what she’d witnessed in front of the house. Cassie and Kate had long ago accepted the truth about their mothers. Cassie’s mom, Flo, was the wild charmer who’d let them have makeup parties at age seven, and bought them their first six-pack. They loved her, no matter what the town thought of her outrageous clothes and numerous affairs. But Edie had been the real nurturing mother figure, the kind one who’d dried their tears and encouraged their dreams.
For Kate, Edie would never be the same. How could she destroy Cassie’s image of Edie, too? In spite of her outward toughness, Kate knew Cassie would be very hurt by this. As hurt as Kate had been. So no, she couldn’t tell her. Not now. Maybe not ever.
“Kitty Kate, you down there?”
Wiping away her tears, she climbed the rope ladder. Inside the tree house, Cassie’s golden hair was haloed by candlelight. “Hi.”
“Hey.” Cassie took another long drag of her cigarette.
“Got another one?” Kate sat next to her cousin, noting the way their dresses filled up nearly every inch of floor space in the tiny house. Hers a boring pink. Cassie’s a sultry black that screamed seduction and showcased her curvy figure.
“Last time you smoked you ralphed all over the bathroom.”
Feeling sick enough already, Kate didn’t risk smoking. “You okay? You skipped out on prom pretty early.”
“Yeah. I’m sure the gold-plated set missed me real bad.”
Kate ignored the sarcasm. “I missed you. What happened?”
Cassie gave a bitter laugh. “Biff said we were going to a party. Turns out he had a two-person, naked party in mind.”
“Perv.”
“Total perv. Then he gets pulled over for drunk driving.”
“You were drinking?” Kate raised a surprised brow, knowing Cassie thought alcohol made guys stupid and mean.
“No. He wanted to get beer, so we stopped at the store before the prom. He said I should buy it since I look older. Friggin’ moron. Like the clerk wouldn’t notice I was wearing a prom dress.”
“What’d you do?”
“I pretended I couldn’t. He found somebody else at the prom who gave him some.” Cassie squashed out her cigarette and leaned her head against the wall. “Look, Katey, I don’t want to talk about this. Why are you here? Shouldn’t you and Darling Darren be celebrating as king and queen of Pea-Ville High right now?”
Kate told her everything, leaving out what had happened when she got home. “Guess we both had disastrous prom nights.”
Cassie took Kate’s hand. “Did I say Darling Darren? I meant Dickless Darren. I hope you told him to eat shit and die.”
“I told him he deserved a girl like Angela, and took off.” Frankly, she liked Cassie’s comeback better. If she’d thought about it long enough, maybe she could have come up with it. But Kate was so used to being the sweeter of the Tremaine cousins, she generally refrained from mouthing off out loud, as she often did in her brain, or when alone with Cassie.
“Good for you.”
Cassie opened an old, dusty Arturo Fuente cigar box in which they hid the stashes of stuff they didn’t want the moms to find. It held candles, diaries, even a Playgirl they’d dug out of Flo’s trash can a few years ago. “I hate this stinking town.”
Remembering the way she’d felt as she watched Mayor Winfield and her mother, Kate completely understood. “Ditto.”
“I’d give anything to get outta here. Make it big, make lots of money, then come back and tell them all to stuff it.”
Kate had the same fantasy. Hours spent in the old Rialto Theater had introduced her to places she wanted to go, people she wanted to meet. Women she wanted to become. Far away from here. “Wouldn’t that be something? The trashy Tremaine cousins coming back and stirring up some serious trouble,” Kate said. “You know what I’d do? I’d open up a shop right next door to Mrs. McIntyre’s Tea Room. And I’d sell…dirty movies!”
Cassie snickered. “Go all out, triple-X porn, baby.”
“And sex toys. Darren’s mom could really use a vibrator.”
“You wouldn’t know a vibrator if it fell in your lap. Turned on. So, first stop in the big city, we buy sex toys.”
Kate giggled. “And when we’re rich and famous, we come back here and shove ’em right up certain people’s noses.”
Cassie reached into the box, grabbing Kate’s diary. “I’ve been sitting here listing all the things I’d do to get even with some people in this town. Why don’t you make one, too?”
“A list?”
“Yep. We each list the things we’ll someday do to the cruddy populace of Pleasantville, if we ever get the chance.”
The idea made perfect sense to Kate. “Publicly humiliate Darren McIntyre and Angela Winfield,” she said as she wrote.
As they wrote Kate watched Cassie’s smile fade as she thought of something else. Kate couldn’t stop her own thoughts from returning to her mother. John Winfield.
She ached, deep within, at the loss of her own childhood beliefs.
Tears blurred her vision as she secretly added one more item to her list. For Mom’s sake, get even with the Winfield family…particularly John Winfield. She didn’t know how, but someday she would do to that family what they’d done to hers…
Cause some serious heartache.