Second Chance for Romance полностью

“Are you decent? You mind if I get my stuff real quick?”

She opened the door and a cloud of steam escaped. She was wrapped in a towel. Her chest and face were pink from the heat.

“Well, now I know where all the hot water went.”

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think…”

“It’s okay. I’m used to cold showers.”

Her eyebrows rose with a question.

“Not for the reason you’re thinking.”

“And what was I thinking?”

“You know,” I said. “Now, can I get my stuff real quick?”

“Don’t be silly. There’s room for both of us. I’m used to it.”

“Used to it?”

“Mmm hmm. Laurence and I shared a bathroom in our house in Japan.”

She moved closer to the sink and motioned me behind her. She was short enough that I could easily see over her.

“Works for me,” I said.

She grinned at me over her shoulder. “This is how Laurie and I used to do it.”

“I’ve never heard you call him that.”

“What?”

“‘Laurie.’ You just called him Laurie.”

Her eyes misted with tears. She wiped them and forced a smile. “I guess I was thinking of him.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“No. Stay. Please. I’d… like it.”

Wren yelled at us from downstairs.

“We’d better get a move on,” Christy said.

“Yep. Chop-chop.”

She laughed. “My dad says that too.”

“Must be a Navy thing.”

“Probably.”

“Christy! Paul!” Wren yelled again, even louder. “Are you coming or what?”

“We’ll be right down!” I shouted back. “Fifteen minutes.”

“We’ll have guests in fifteen minutes.”

“Then send ’em up and they can help stuff my shorts!”

Christy giggled. “She’s probably right,” she said after a moment. “We’d better hurry.”

“Yeah. So no more foolin’ around. Got it?”

“Yes, sir, captain, sir!”

My costume was so simple that I was dressed and downstairs long before Christy.

Wren had been right, we did have guests already. They were friends from Trip’s management class.

Leave it to Business majors to show up early for a meeting, I thought.

Their costumes were pretty basic (variations on corporate executive), but at least they’d tried. I introduced myself and offered to fix them drinks.

They’d brought a bottle of Bacardi, so we started with rum and Coke.

Trip came through from the kitchen. He greeted his friends in passing and continued toward the octagon room, where he started his first mix tape. The eerie sound effects from “Thriller” filled the house a moment later. Just like him, I thought. He knew the perfect music for every occasion. He returned to the dining room and I excused myself to answer the doorbell.

Freddie DeFeo and a couple of people from design class came in. He was dressed like a mob boss. The others were a cowboy, a ghost, and Tinker Bell (a mousy girl named Rosemary, who had a much nicer body than any of us had realized). I welcomed them to the party, told them the drinks and food were in the dining room, and sent them on their way.

I closed the front door and glanced toward the stairs. Christy stood on the landing. In the background Duran Duran’s “Hungry Like the Wolf” started with the woman’s laugh, and I had to suppress a smile at the timing. She grinned like the song had been cued for her.

She had rolled her wheat-gold hair and added a baby blue bow. Her Alice dress was shorter than I remembered from the store. The ruffled organza

petticoat ended at mid-thigh, and I could see several inches of skin between it and her over-the-knee stockings. They were white, with little blue bows at the top, and she definitely hadn’t bought them at the department store.

I slid my sunglasses down my nose and looked over them. “Wow. You look amazing.”

She blushed and lowered her eyes.

“And now I see what you meant about the shoes.”

“You like ’em?”

“They’re perfect. The stockings too. The dress. Your hair. Everything.

Perfect.”

Her blush deepened.

I pushed my sunglasses into place and held up a hand.

She descended the stairs and took it. She did a little turn when she reached the floor.

The doorbell rang.

“You’re kidding,” I griped. I smiled down at her. “Hold that thought.”

I opened the door.

“Is this the party?” a Wall Street wannabe asked.

“No, I normally dress like this.”

“Oh, right. So where are the hookers?”

I thought he was serious at first. Then I remembered my costume.

“You’re on your own with the ladies,” I said. “’Fraid you’ll have to get by on charm and good looks. Food and drinks are that way.” I ushered him and his friends inside. I started to close the door, but another group was walking up the sidewalk.

Christy materialized by my side. “You want me to fix you a drink?”

“Please. I might be here for a while.”

“What do you want?”

“Whatever you’re drinking.”

“Are you sure you can handle it?”

“Are you kidding? You’re a hundred pounds soaking wet. You said so yourself. If you can handle it, I can handle it.”

“Okay,” she said with a mischievous grin. “Just remember, you asked for it.”

I welcomed the newcomers, who were Wren’s friends from a communications class. We chatted for a moment about costumes and then I sent them toward the dining room.