You’re a nice man.”
Nice? Perfect. Just perfect.
“Fine. I’m nice. But the next guy won’t be.”
“I don’t want the next guy. You’re my best shot at being bad.”
“What?”
She shrugged and nearly toppled onto her back. He shot out a hand to steady her.
“You’re nice but you’re bad, too.” She lowered her voice. “I can tell. I want to be bad.” She leaned in close to him. “Don’t you want to help me?”
What he wanted was to know what he’d done to deserve this.
She shifted on the bed, suddenly moving closer. Too close. Her gaze settled on his mouth again.
“Don’t you want to kiss me?” she asked, sounding mournful. “I’d like you to, but I don’t know if I’m very good at it. I’ve always wondered. But how do you ask? I mean, is anyone going to tell the truth? Would you tell me?”
He had no idea what they were talking about. Despite the ugly dress and her crazy, trusting personality and the fact that if he even thought about touching her he would be zapped by lightning, he suddenly wanted to kiss her.
He wanted to know what she would taste like and how she would respond. He wanted—
She suddenly turned from him. Her legs bumped against his as she struggled to get away. He stood, pushing the chair back, and she bolted for the bathroom. The door slammed behind her, the toilet seat went up with a clatter and two seconds later came the sounds of her being violently sick.
Kevin winced in sympathy. He was guessing this was the first time she’d been drunk, so it was probably the first time she’d been sick with alcohol. Not a fun way to end the day.
He glanced at the door, then hesitated as the need to do the right thing warred with his desire to bolt for freedom.
He compromised by deciding to stay until he knew that she was all right. At least he no longer had to worry about his virtue. There was nothing like barfing one’s guts out to break the romantic mood.
Twenty minutes later it was all over but the moaning. Kevin walked to the bathroom door and knocked softly.
“Tell me you’re still alive,” he said.
A groan came in response.
He pushed the door open and found Haley curled up on the bathroom floor. Her eyes were closed, her skin the color of fog. The soft strands of blond hair now lay plastered against her forehead.
“I’m dying,” she gasped.
“It only feels that way.”
She shook her head, then groaned again.
“Come on,” he said, crouching next to her. “Get up and take a shower. You’ll feel better.”
She opened one eye. “I’m never going to feel better.”
“Hot water works wonders.”
Her eyelids fluttered shut.
“Come on, little one,” he said, slipping his arm around her and pulling her into a sitting position.
She kept her eyes closed until she was upright, then opened them slowly.
“Is the world still spinning?” he asked.
“A little. It’s not as fun as it was before.”
“I’ll bet.” He shifted so he could unbuckle her ugly shoes. “You’re probably done throwing up.”
“So now I can pass away in peace?”
“Not on my watch.” He pulled her up until she was sitting on the edge of the tub. “How about a change of clothes for after your shower? Do you have a robe or something?”
“I have a nightgown in the top drawer.”
“Stay here. I’ll go get it.”
Kevin walked into the bedroom. He wasn’t sure what he expected when he slid open the drawer, but any visions of lace and satin were quickly squelched when he saw the high-necked, long-sleeved, cotton granny gown.
He returned to find her sitting right where he’d left her.
“Can you stand?” he asked.
“Why would I want to?” He chuckled.
She glared. “You should have a little more respect for the dying.”
“Death is a long way off, Haley. You only wish it wasn’t.”
He pulled her to her feet. She swayed a little. He shifted so she had a clear line to the toilet, but she didn’t bolt, so he figured they were both safe.
After pulling the plastic curtain halfway closed, he turned on the water until it was steaming hot, then adjusted the temperature to just below scalding and pulled the knob to start the spray.
He stepped back. Haley didn’t budge. He gave her a little push toward the water.
“You can get in dressed or undressed,” he said. “Your choice.”
One hand fluttered behind her before falling back to her side. He sighed heavily, then pulled down the zipper of her dress. As he did so, he was careful not to look at anything more interesting than the sink he could see over her shoulder. He stepped back and headed for the door.
“Holler if you need anything.”
“Okay.”
He heard her dress hit the floor. His imagination supplied a perfect picture of everything he hadn’t seen. He had a feeling the real thing would be even better. “Kevin?”
He made the mistake of turning around before he realized the potential for disaster. Haley stood facing him, now clutching her dress to herself, but behind her was the small mirror. It reflected a slender back, narrow waist and gentle curving hips. Cream-colored perfection.
He made himself look only at her eyes. “What?”
She swallowed. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
He retreated to the bedroom where he was tortured by the sounds of her in the shower. Reminding himself that she had just been sick, and probably felt less appealing than a fur ball, didn’t help.
He paced restlessly for ten minutes, then forced himself to sit on the edge of the bed and click channels until he found the ball game. It was tied in the eighth inning and damned if he didn’t care at all.
The shower finally went off. There were more sounds he couldn’t identify, then the bathroom door opened.
Haley stood dwarfed by
