lifted her chin. “Do you intend to rape me, Sir?”
The captain pulled off his shirt as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “Since you now share my name, I intend to consummate our marriage.”
She kept her gaze on his face, too nervous to glance lower at his body, afraid if she did he might see the excitement in her eyes when she looked up again. “And if I refuse you, Captain?”
He chuckled, his smile quick and heart-stopping. Then he reached for the buckle on his belt and moved closer to the bed.
Penelope could no longer refrain. She glanced at his broad chest, then lower still, down his flat, muscle-corded belly to the thin line of dark hair that trailed to the top of his breeches. Her breath caught, her stomach tightened involuntarily and a warm, sweet ache spread like heated honey through her limbs. To her shame, she yearned to touch him, yearned for him to touch her in all the places no man ever had, or should.
“Dear Lady,” he said, his voice a deep, arousing caress, “you won’t refuse me.”
“Well, hell,” I mutter, closing the book. Penelope isn’t the only one with a warm, sweet ache.
First Bert, then Mother, now Erin.
Maybe the person who came up with the old saying, “if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em,” knew what he or she was talking about.
Tucking Penelope’s Passion beneath my arm, I leave Erin’s room. At the end of the hallway, I poke my head around the corner into the den where Mother sits knitting and watching TV, with Maxwell snoring on the rug at her feet. The knitting needles click out a rhythmic beat.
“I think I’ll turn in early and catch up on some reading.” Mother’s needles pause. The clicking stops. She looks up at me. “I hope for once you’re reading for pleasure instead of for work.”
The corner of my mouth spasms as I think of Penelope’s captain. “Purely for pleasure tonight, Mother. You have my word.”
CHAPTER 2
From: [email protected]
Date: 11/1 Saturday
Subject: Tonight
Hey. Meet me at the mall at 11:30. We’ll eat, then shop for something to wear out tonight to The Beat. You’re going. No excuses.
I look at the outfit spread across Suzanna’s bed and wish I’d never checked my e-mail this morning. The skintight, one-sleeved red-and-black striped top will leave one shoulder completely bare, while the pleated black pinstriped miniskirt is barely long enough to cover my scrawny butt. But the worst of it all sits in an open box; a pair of ankle-high, pointy-toed red boots with buckles on the sides and short spiked heels.
This afternoon at the mall, I gave into Suzanna’s arm-twisting and bought it all. It seemed like a good idea at the time. The outfit was great for laughs in the dressing room. But the thought of actually wearing it in public makes me want to puke up Nana’s fried chicken.
My stuff has been in the trunk of my car since I left the mall. It’s bad enough having Mom to deal with, but now I have Nana, too. It’s not like I don’t want her to live with us; I do. But I’m afraid if the two of them saw these clothes, Mom would go ballistic and Nana might have a heart attack. And two against one makes it that much harder to defend yourself. I’m sure Mom didn’t have this sort of outfit in mind for my concert. Which, now that I think of it, I totally forgot to shop for. The concert, that is.
“This all goes back,” I say, shaking my head and turning to face my friend. “It’s not me at all. It’s more like something you’d wear.”
Suz grabs the top and holds it up in front of me. “Oh, get over it. You’re just nervous. You’re gonna look amazing.”
“I’ll feel like a skank.”
“Are you saying I dress like a skank?”
“No. I’m saying that you can pull off wearing slutty things without looking skanky. I can’t.”
Suzanna tosses the satiny top in my face. “That’s just stupid.”
I catch the shirt and start to refold it. “It doesn’t matter what I wear tonight. If I’m with you no guy’s going to notice me anyway.” Not that they pay me much attention when Suz isn’t around. It’s just worse when she is.
“That’s only because you’re so quiet. They probably think you don’t want to hook up.”
“Okay.” I sit at the edge of her bed, wishing she’d turn off the rap music, which I hate. “Then explain why it is that guys who’ve never met me, guys who don’t know I’m quiet or that you’re outgoing, completely look past me whenever you and I are together? Even before we ever open our mouths?”
Suz rolls her eyes. “As if.”
“It’s true.”
“If it is true, which it isn’t, then maybe it’s because…” She pauses to nibble her lower lip. “Well, I hate to say this, but maybe it’s because you dress like an orchestra member.”
“I am an orchestra member.”
“Exactly.” Suzanna flips back her long blond hair.
“Playing the cello doesn’t have anything to do with the way I dress. Lot’s of girls who aren’t in orchestra dress like me.”
“They probably can’t hook up, either.”
“What’s wrong with my clothes?” I glance down at my jeans and T-shirt, bought last week, though they aren’t my style. “I’m showing skin.” I point at my belly button. “See?”
Suz eyes my jeans. “At least they aren’t your usual. Baggy, khaki or black.”
“Samantha Carter dresses like a nun and she has boyfriends. My clothes aren’t the problem.”
“Then what?”
I lay the folded skank-top on the bed beside me, cross my arms and stare straight at her chest. “Remember yesterday after school when you ran up to me in the parking lot while I was talking to Todd Blackburn about our science project?”
She nods. “What about it?”
“When he saw you coming, he forgot I existed. At first I thought it was your bouncing ponytail that threw him into a trance. Then I realized your hair wasn’t the only thing bouncing.”
Her eyes widen. “Shut up! I wasn’t bouncing!”
“Yes you were! And Todd wasn’t the only guy in the parking lot who noticed. Instead of ‘follow the bouncing ball,’ it was ‘follow the bouncing boobs.’”
“That’s disgusting.” Suzanna’s face flushes, which is a total surprise since nothing much embarrasses her.
“Well,
