Bare Essentials

4


IF THERE HAD EVER BEEN a time in Jack’s life when he needed a bed, this was it. He wanted nothing more than to pull her body tightly against his, curl around her and languorously come back to earth after their pounding, exciting interlude. Instead he kept his hands on either side of her, holding himself above her, still connected below the waist. “You okay?”

Below him, Kate lay panting, with her eyes closed and her skin still flushed with pleasure. A sultry smile curved her lips, and he watched her pink tongue dart out to moisten them as she nodded. Though he couldn’t imagine possibly having anything left in his body after exploding into hers a few minutes before, he felt a definite stirring of interest. God, she was glorious.

“Is that a gun in your condom or are you just happy to see me?”

She opened one eye and glanced down at their joined bodies.

He chuckled, again delighted by her wicked wit. “I can’t seem to get enough of you. But, oh, I could use a bed. Or even a comfortable chair.”

“Chaise longue,” she said, a purr in her voice. “No sides.”



Her suggestion definitely brought to mind some enticing images. Her, on top of him, straddling him and taking as much pleasure as she wanted. He held on to the mental picture, determined to one day make it a reality.

She wriggled beneath him, tightening herself deep inside and wringing a moan from him. “As flattering as this is, I don’t think those things are reusable,” she said, biting the corner of her kiss-swollen lip, trying unsuccessfully to hide a grin.

He gently pulled out of her. What he really wanted to do was grab another condom and go right back in. Make love to her slowly. Erotically. For hours. But this wasn’t the time, place or soft flat surface for slow, sultry sex. Chicago.

“Any suggestions on where to, uh, dispose of the evidence?”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” she said with a giggle.

He chuckled, too. “It’s been a long time since my teenage years in the back seats of cars, when this was a real issue.”

“Teenage? Tsk, tsk. Don’t tell me you were a bad boy.”

“Actually, I was the golden boy,” he replied, making no effort to hide his own disgust. “Which is why whenever I dated a girl, we’d have to go out of town if we didn’t want a full report on our activities phoned in to our parents before our 1:00 a.m. curfew.” Not wanting to get into a conversation about his family, he looked around backstage. “Now, I really should…”

“There.” She nodded toward the workman’s ladder standing in front of the partially drawn curtain. Jack followed her stare, seeing the big trash can standing nearby. Tugging his pants up to his hips, he said, “I’ll be right back.” He gave her a quick kiss on the lips before he walked away.

By the time he returned, after burying the used condom amid the remains of plastic, paint-speckled drop cloths and food wrappers, she was sitting up on the table, buttoning her blouse.



“So, wanna go see a movie sometime? I’m sure we could find something to do while we hide in the bathroom to sneak into the second show,” he said with a grin.

She laughed again, not appearing at all nervous, having no second thoughts or regrets. He liked that, since he felt exactly the same way. Tonight was only the beginning. And he didn’t regret one damn minute of it.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to go into a theater again without thinking of this,” she admitted, looking up from her buttoning to fix her brown-eyed stare on him. “I think we definitely made a memory tonight.”

“Do you like making memories?”

She nodded. “I guess that’s what my impromptu rock concert was all about. Throughout my childhood I’d wanted to get up on this stage. I always hoped somebody would buy it, forget about showing movies here and get down to business putting on some great plays in which I could be the star.”

“Hopefully not musicals.”

She responded with a light punch on his upper arm.

“I’m kidding,” he said. “So, did that have something to do with why you decided to, uh, go for it with me? Not just a memory—but living out some childhood fantasy?”

“I don’t know what kind of childhood you had, but I did not spend my third-grade year wanting to be stark naked, having the hottest sex of my life, on the stage of the Rialto.”

He raised a brow. “Hottest of your life, huh?”

She looked away to reach for her skirt. “Well, hottest in the past year at least.”

He crossed his arms. “Admit it. You haven’t had sex in the past year. Have you?”

Her face flushed. “How could you possibly know?”

“Let’s call it a lucky guess.”

“Well, what about you?” she asked as she hopped down from the table and slid her feet into her shoes. “Can I hazard a guess and say it’s been a while for you, too?”

“I guess it was over pretty fast.”

She laughed, low and sultry. “It was perfect. Exactly the way I needed it. One to blow off steam…”

“And the next one?”

She paused. Then, lowering her voice, she said, “I wish there could be a next one.”

Her honesty did not surprise him. No coyness, no shyness, no flirtation, just fabulous, forthright, honest Kate. No question, she was the most intoxicating woman he’d met in years.

She bent to hook her sandals, her hair brushing Jack’s naked stomach. He heaved in a breath.

“Unfortunately,” she continued, apparently not noticing his sudden inability to think a coherent thought, “there can’t.”

That woke him up and he bent to look at her. “Why can’t there?”

She straightened immediately, almost cracking the top of her head into his chin. “You want there to be?”

Seeing the look of uncertainty in her rich brown eyes, Jack immediately took her into his arms. “Yeah. I definitely want there to be. And you’re right, I haven’t been involved with anyone for several months. I guess you and I met each other at precisely the right moment for volcanic sexual eruption.”

She raised a brow. “Lucky us.”

“By the way, the movie idea, and my dinner invitation, were very real. I want to see you again, beyond more of…this.”


She hesitated, leading him to wonder if she really was out for sex and nothing else. For some reason that thought didn’t hold as much appeal as it usually would for Jack. Sex and no strings had seemed fine for him up until a few months ago.

Hell, up until today. When he’d met her eyes across a nearly deserted street.



“We’d better go,” she said softly. “The workman who left this stuff might remember he forgot to lock up and come back.”

Sensing her desire to change the subject, Jack let it go. The subject of what they each were looking for in a relationship could be left for another time. Kate was unlike other women he’d known. She obviously knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid—nor apologetic—about going after it. Her cool exterior and calm demeanor hid a passionate woman with a naughty streak.

“Hope he didn’t come back a while ago and quietly watch.”

A decidedly wicked grin curved the corners of her lips up. “Well, what’s a stage for, if there’s no audience?”

Yes, a definite naughty streak. He could hardly wait to get to know her better.

After they dressed, they left the theater and stood outside, next to her SUV. Jack hated to see her leave, though he knew he’d see her soon. “So you’ll get home sometime tomorrow?”

She nodded. “And you fly home late tonight.”

He wished he didn’t have to go back to his mother’s house to pack. The simple solution to his regret at parting from this amazing woman was to drive back to Chicago with her. But he didn’t suggest it. He sensed Kate wanted some time alone to sort things out. He didn’t need any alone time. He had not one single doubt about what had happened. He was fully prepared to ride out this incredible wave to see what might happen next.

“I’ll call you the day after tomorrow,” he assured her.

“We’ll see.” She turned away, looking down the silent, shadowed street. “You don’t have to, you know. You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to. So there should be no guilt.”

“I’m not feeling guilty.” He brushed a strand of hair off her brow, wishing the streetlights around here worked so she could see the sincerity in his eyes. “I’m missing you already.”

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 was.

“I don’t really care, because for the first time in forever, we’re talking about your sex life, not mine!”

“No, we’re not talking about it.” She walked past him onto the sales floor. The overhead lights were on, though they wouldn’t open for an hour. Pretending she needed to check the bondage section, she busied herself counting leather masks and handcuffs. Big sellers, particularly around the holidays.

“Kate, stop pretending you don’t care this guy didn’t call. You’ve been moping for ten days, ever since you got home from Tortureville. Track the bastard down and confront him about it.”

“I can’t. The last words I said to him were there’s no guilt, no regret, and he didn’t have to call.”

Armand rolled his eyes in disgust. “Well, of course, but you didn’t mean it. Darling, all men—including the heterosexual ones—know that speech is complete bullshit.”

She ignored him. “Besides, I don’t know his last name.”


“Stranger sex. I still can’t believe you went for it.”



She wished she’d never told him. But Armand was a sexual bloodhound. He could smell naughty secrets, even days later.

“So, you see, I can’t track him down, even if I wanted to.”

Which she didn’t. Jack’s silence in the past ten days spoke volumes. He knew where to find her and he hadn’t looked. She’d cared at first. Too much. Then she’d reminded herself she knew what she was getting into. She could have walked away at any time, but she wanted great sex, with him, then and there. And she got it. So she couldn’t now hate him for not following up on his promise to see her when he got back to Chicago.

“Please, Armand, let it drop,” she said, rubbing a weary hand over her brow. “It was great, now it’s done. I’m over it.”

“You’re such a phony, Katherine Jones,” he replied. Then he stepped closer and took her in his arms, hugging her close. Kate allowed herself to be comforted, burrowing into Armand’s hard, masculine chest the way she would with an older brother.

“It’s really a shame you don’t like women,” Kate said, looking up at him. “You’re funny, loyal and a total hottie.”

Armand smiled, a heart-stopping smile that could make women try to reform him and gay men sit up and beg. “I adore women. I just don’t want to sleep with them. Besides, I wouldn’t want to be one of those men you push away as you close yourself up in your prickly, tough shell, keeping out anyone you think could hurt you. This way we can love each other without any sex or commitment stuff getting in the way.”

“I love you, too,” she said with a gentle smile, not acknowledging his probably all-too-accurate description of Kate’s views on trust, love and relationships.

Before they could get any mushier, the phone rang. Kate answered, smiling as she heard her mom’s voice. The smile faded as Edie told her some bad news about her Pleasantville house.

“Vandalized? How? Did the Keystone Kops do anything?”

“Sheriff Taggart assures me he’ll do everything he can to catch those who did it,” Edie said. “Tag’s a nice young man, you’d like him. He and your cousin have apparently already met.”

Kate snorted, still unable to believe Cassie had gone to Pleasantville. “Yeah, the son of a…I mean, the sheriff, gave her a ticket last night, her first night in town. Sounds like Pleasantville’s as pleasant as ever to the Tremaines.”

“It’s not the whole town, Kate. Only a few bad apples.”

“Enough to fill Mrs. Smith’s pies for a decade.”

Her mother tsked. “Obviously your cousin disagrees with you, since she’s decided to spend the summer there.”

Kate could have told her the real reason Cassie had gone to Pleasantville. But the cousins had agreed not to. Edie and Flo didn’t need to know that Cassie was, in essence, hiding out from a troubling situation. A possibly dangerous situation.

At least Pleasantville is better than dead. Kinda.

“In any case, the real estate agent is having a handyman repaint,” Edie said. “He also tells me he had a call asking if the house was available for short-term rental. What do you think?”

Kate, the accountant-at-heart, nodded. “Good idea. If you can rent it out to cover the mortgage until it sells, then do it.”

After a few minutes’ conversation she hung up and told Armand what had happened to her mother’s house.

“What a horrid little burg,” he said. “Who would paint graffiti on Edie’s door? She’s the nicest soul I know!”

Kate nodded, agreeing. Her mom was genuinely the nicest person she knew. Patient and understanding. Sweet-natured, helpful and modest. All the qualities Kate had wanted as a kid—which she now knew definitely had not swum across that gene pool from mother to daughter. She’d tried to pretend they had, while growing up in Ohio. But the sweet, modest, quiet genes had eluded her. She had to admit it…she liked herself better now that she was free to be herself. Prickly tough shell and all.

“I can’t believe Cassie’s vacationing there. Couldn’t she have gone anywhere else but Nastyville?”

Kate shrugged. Yes, Cassie could have gone somewhere else, but fate and circumstance had pointed her to Pleasantville. There was Cassie’s personal situation. Edie’s departure. Flo’s affair and decision to give Cassie several properties in their hometown—properties left to Flo by some of her more affluent lovers. That had amused Cassie to no end. And the diaries.

Kate had mailed Cassie’s diary to her immediately after her return from Ohio, and the two of them had sat on the phone for two hours one night, talking about them. They’d relived all the slights, the hurts and their infamous prom night. They’d even read over their “revenge lists.” Then and there, Cassie had decided the best place to hide out was in a town that had never really seen her anyway. It made sense, in a sad, twisted way.

* * *

THEIR DIARIES were still on Kate’s mind late that night when her phone rang at home. Cassie, needing a friendly voice. They talked for several minutes about the pricey house on Lilac Hill, which Flo had given Cassie. Then Kate asked the inevitable. “So, did you go by Pansy Lane today?”

When Cassie went silent, Kate sighed. “You saw.”

“Yeah. Your mom called, and I went to see how bad it was.”

“And?” When Cassie hesitated, Kate said, “Come on, Cass, do you think I’ll be shocked by anything the people there do?”

“It’s pretty bad. Horrible, ugly words, spray-painted across the front of your mom’s house.” Cassie gave a humorless chuckle. “And a few for Flo’s house, just for good measure.”



Kate muttered an obscenity. “I’m thinking Pleasantville could really use a High Plains Drifter,” she muttered. “Mom says the agent’s going to have the damage fixed. Let’s talk about something else. Tell me how it’s going for you.”

Cassie chuckled. “Did I tell you about the other building Flo gave me? It was Mr. McIntyre’s shop on Magnolia.”

Kate gasped. “McIntyre’s? No way! I never knew Flo was involved with Darren’s father. No wonder Mrs. McIntyre hated us. I guess that’s why the men’s shop closed down.”

Kate should have expected what came next. Cassie had come up with the crazy idea to give Kate the building to open a store, a Bare Essentials, in Pleasantville! She laughed, loudly, as her cousin launched into reasons why it was a good idea.

They lightheartedly argued about it for a few minutes then Cassie said, “And besides, it’s right downtown. Right next door to the Tea Room. Are you following me here?”

While they kept discussing it, Kate’s mind was somewhere else. Thinking of Edie. Of the vicious words that day in the Tea Room. Of the spite. Of the silly Clint Eastwood poster. Of the big overstock she had piling up in the backroom of her store, because of the going-out-of-business sale of a sex toy supplier from Texas. Of a big empty building and storefront, which, Cassie said, needed only a little elbow grease to get it ready to open. Which Cassie wanted to provide, if only to keep from going crazy with boredom. She thought of the cute girl she’d met in the nail salon, who’d longed for something to happen.

Mostly, she thought of Cassie. Alone, a sitting duck, in a town that didn’t care a rat’s ass for any of them and wouldn’t lift a finger to help if her trouble followed her to Ohio.


Cassie urged, “Come on, Kate. Opening a porn shop in Pleasantville. It doesn’t get better than that.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “Bare Essentials is not a porn shop. But you’re right, it sure would cross number one off my revenge list, wouldn’t it?” Then she chuckled. “And some of the Winfields are still in town to get even with, right?”

Cassie obviously understood. She knew what had happened on prom night, just as Kate knew what had happened to Cassie. They’d shared their most anguished secrets one night a few years ago over a bottle of cheap tequila and an entire key lime cheesecake. Then Cassie gasped. “Oh, I can’t believe I forgot. Did your mom tell you someone wants to rent her house?”

“Yeah. I guess if I come back to town, I’d better ask her not to so I’ll have someplace to stay.”

“Don’t be silly. You can stay with me. It’s too late, anyway, your mom told me she heard from the renter today. It’s J. J. Winfield. He’s renting her place in a couple of weeks.”

Kate reeled. J. J. Winfield was going to be living in her mother’s house? Why would he stay on the seedy side of town when his family lived on the sunny one? “Impossible!”

“Swear to God. Your mom seemed really touched by it.”

Kate wasn’t surprised her mother hadn’t called her back to tell her. Kate had never admitted knowing about her affair, but Edie knew she couldn’t stand the Winfields, anyway.

Kate suddenly saw an opportunity. Mayor John Winfield was gone, but there would soon be another John Winfield in Pleasantville. Could she possibly get vengeance on the late Mayor Winfield through his son? Seduce him, break his heart, get some serious payback on behalf of the Tremaine women?

She wondered if she could really go through with it. Physically, yes. Kate wasn’t vain. But she knew something about sex and seduction. It was her stock in trade. So yes, she could do it. It was the emotional part she worried about.

But men did that kind of thing every day, didn’t they? Look at what had happened to her in good old Pea-Ville ten days before. A man had taken what he wanted—admittedly giving her some pleasure, too—and walked away without a single word since. Hurting her. Though, damn it, she’d never admit that to anyone!

Her decision was easy. With a few shipments of goods, and some vacation time this summer, she could look out for Cassie, give a major screw-you to the old guard in Pleasantville…and seduce and break the heart of the son of the man who’d broken her mother’s. Throw in a humiliating moment for Darren and Angela, and she’d make all her teenage dreams come true.

“Cassie,” she finally said, knowing her cousin awaited her decision. “Do you think Flo would let me stay in her old place?”





Jill Shalvis, Leslie Kelly's books