Reagan held up a hand making the OK sign, and continued on her way with a measuring tape and painter’s tape, marking off the set-up for the crew in the morning.
The match was the next evening, and according to Reagan, their dingy little gym would somehow be magically turned into an arena for spectators, mimicking the grandeur of a legitimate tournament. In the morning, hours before anyone would be admitted to the gym, a maintenance crew would come in and set up a ring, the bleachers and more. Since Reagan would have been setting up alone, Marianne had volunteered to stay and help, and called in Kara to complete the trio. Zach, to his disgruntlement, was at home with the babysitter.
“Plus, with us having the whole gym lit up like a Roman candle, I can’t imagine anyone would want to come in here and stir up trouble tonight. It’s obvious they’d be caught.” Her friend ripped the end of the caution tape off and used a piece of duct tape to secure it to the top of the banister. “And now we do the other side.”
“It’s nice, having you guys help. Have I said thank you?” Reagan called from below.
“You’re welcome!” Kara and Marianne said in tandem.
“Kara, I owe you a night of babysitting.”
“No you—”
“She sure does,” Marianne cut Kara off, glaring. “You paid for tonight’s sitter, when you could have put that money toward an attorney. So yes, she can babysit for you another time.”
“Only fair,” Reagan agreed.
“I’m coming tomorrow, and bringing Zach,” Kara said cautiously.
“Fun,” Marianne said absently, winding the tape around the starting post. “He’ll like it. He loves the guys.”
“Yeah, he does.” One particular Marine more than the others, it was turning out. Despite being in deep shit for his runaway stunt, Zach couldn’t stop talking about the evening he’d spent with Graham. How the man had let him order dinner so he got the right food, how he’d not even complained once about the weird food Zach had ordered, that they’d watched a movie Kara likely wouldn’t have allowed in her house, but also wouldn’t object to, and that Graham had given him hell about running off like that, but in a cool way. A man’s way.
It was like he was slipping out of her fingers, one month at a time. His need for a strong, healthy, positive male role model was becoming more apparent by the day. But she couldn’t ask Graham to be his role model, not when the man had feelings for her. It sent the wrong signal. Plus, Zach would get attached and then Graham would be gone. Not because he was the kind of man to drift out of someone’s life, but because he simply had no choice. He went where the Marine Corps sent him. And they had no option to follow, even if she wanted to.
But oh, after that kiss . . . she wanted to. Or at least, she wanted the option to. His hands had found all the right places, and he’d shown such restraint in the face of an unholy temptation. He would have been amazing in bed. All that golden tan skin, hardened by the workouts they went through daily, with that unflappable control and powerful need . . .
“Earth to Kara.” Marianne poked her in the side. “Where’d you go? Daydreaming about something?”
Kara blinked. “Huh?”
Marianne sat back on her heels, cocking her head a little. “Your face is flushed, your eyes are glazed over and you look like you just left a very sexy man’s bed.” Her friend’s mouth opened on a little O. “You were having a sex daydream.”
“Was not.” Her face heated, and she pressed a cool hand to one side.
“You were! You daydream slut! Tell me.”
“Wow, when you put it like that, of course I’ll tell you all my deep, dark secrets,” Kara said dryly, then yelped when a hand settled on her back. She looked over her shoulder to find Reagan standing there, looking confused. “You scared me.’
“She’s still in a sex haze,” Marianne explained to an obviously confused Reagan.
“You had sex?” Reagan asked, sitting down on the bottom stair with a thud that didn’t go along with her beautiful business suit. Her legs splayed out over the hardwood, and her feet tapped restlessly in their furry blue slippers. “With who?”
“With nobody. Calm down, I didn’t have sex with anyone.”
“She was having mental sex,” Marianne clarified. “Daydream sex. And I know just the Marine who was starring front and center.” When Kara glared, she shrugged. “You can’t seriously think we both haven’t realized you and Graham are dancing around the issue.”
“He kissed me,” she admitted softly. “The other day, when Zach ran off to his house. I came to pick Zach up, he was asleep, so we talked. And then we weren’t talking, and then we were kissing, and . . .” She covered her eyes with her fingers, resting her hot cheek against the cool metal of the hand rail. “This is horrible. I’m such an idiot.”
“Still missing the ‘idiot’ part. Unless you did it wrong.” Reagan gave her a sympathetic pat on the knee. “Did you do it wrong?”