Her Sexiest Mistake (8 page)

Shut up and listen. I need help at the teen center.

Mike’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.
I thought the teen center’s up for sale, and that once the building sells, the teen center is goners.

Right. But until that happens, I need someone.

I don’t want a pity job.

Ah, come on. You know damn well there’s no such thing as a “pity” job. A pity fuck, maybe, but not a pity job.

Mike wouldn’t take the job. He wouldn’t, because deep down, Kevin was convinced, Mike liked being unemployed, liked the handouts, the free ride.

The pity.

But it was just as hard to turn his back on the guy now as it had been when Mike was a little kid, not hearing the shouted warning of some danger coming from behind…

I have no experience,
Mike pointed out.

It’s organizing sports and events. Easy stuff.

Mike let out a snort that didn’t have any humor in it and shoved his fingers through his hair.

Kevin waited.

When Mike finally nodded, he looked extremely defenseless.

So you’ll do it? You’ll interview?

I’ll think about it.
Mike pushed Kevin clear of the front door and opened it.

Kevin held him back.
You’ll interview?
he repeated.

Jesus, you don’t need to shout.
Mike smiled at his own joke, showing a shadow of his old self.
I said I’ll think about it.

Four o’clock. I’ll have the board members come. Be there.

Nodding, he turned to the door, then looked back.
You have a potato chip in your ear.

And then he was gone.

Kevin shook his head and more chips fell. He gathered his keys and helmet and headed out, too.

The rap was still booming. The house immediately to his left was Mr. and Mrs. Dickenson. They were a couple in their fifties who enjoyed cruises to Mexico, morning walks through the hills, and opera. Not rap.

“Turn that crap down!” boomed a female voice through the morning air.

He felt the grin split his face, and he eyed the
second
house on his left.

Mia’s.

Seems she and Hope were at least communicating. He headed down the walk toward his bike, then stopped when he heard the
click-click-clicking
of heels. This was accompanied by a low grumbling in one Mia Appleby’s soft, silky voice as she walked to her car.

More like strutted. She was dressed to the hilt in some soft blue silky business suit and do-me heels, muttering, “I’m going to kill myself if I have to listen to that track one more time.” At the sight of him, she stopped.

Before his eyes, she drew herself up to her full height, summoning a smile that didn’t come even close to her eyes. “Hey.”

“Wow,” he said. “I’ve now seen more fake smiles this morning than I have all week long.”

Her smile congealed, then vanished altogether. She pressed a finger to her eye. “Twitching again. Damn it.”

“Going well in there, huh?” He nodded back toward her house, from which the ear-splitting rap still came.

“Define ‘well.’”

“In this case, I’d say that it meant no one had been murdered.”

“Well, then, yes, it’s going well. Have you ever actually lived with a teenager? They’re like—”

“Aliens?” he suggested helpfully, thinking of his brother.

“Exactly.” She opened her car door, tossed in her briefcase, then glanced back at the house.

The music still blared from the cracks.

With a gritting of her teeth, she stalked halfway back up the walk, put her hands around her mouth, and yelled, “Your two minutes are gone! Now get your—”

The music shut off.

Mia huffed and adjusted her jacket. In her gravity-defying, towering heels, she whirled back to her car. “Have a good day,” she said tightly and got behind the wheel, sliding on mirrored sunglasses that looked as expensive as the rest of her.

“You, too,” he said to one of the biggest mistakes he’d ever made, straddling his bike, not missing the fact that she watched him do so.

He drove off, still feeling her gaze on him. He wasn’t sure what to do with that, or with the fact that it turned him on, though his erection shriveled quick enough when he got to the school and Mrs. Stacy looked at him over her spectacles as if he was a bug on her windshield.

“You have a visitor,” she said in her snooty, holier-than-thou voice. “A…” She consulted the sign-in-clipboard. “A Beth Moore.”

Ah, hell. Just what he didn’t need, Beth chewing him out this early in the morning. They’d been married once, for a whole week, and he still cringed when he thought of it. Maybe it wasn’t too late to sneak out, maybe—

“Kevin,” Beth said behind him.

With a grimace, he turned and faced another of his biggest mistakes.

Y
ou always keep your clients waiting?” Beth asked coolly as she followed Kevin out of the school to the teen center, where he’d left his lesson plan for the day.

“Clients?” He shook his head. “You’re not my client.”

“My daughter is.”

“Amber’s a kid, Beth. And, no, I don’t keep the kids waiting.”

She followed him into his office, which was the size of a postage stamp and held a beat-up old desk and a file cabinet with drawers that didn’t shut all the way.

Beth tapped her foot, dressed to kill in a bloodred suit that showed off her assets, which had only improved with time and her surgeon’s help. Deciding to display those assets, she perched prettily on the corner of his desk, crossing her legs to optimize the effect of their length.

Once upon a time he’d loved those legs, but he was eighteen and extremely stupid. “What do you need?” he asked.

“Amber’s going to be here for a few weeks.” She patted her perfectly coiffed blond hair and pulled out a small compact from her pocket to check her makeup, also perfect. But Kevin knew beneath that cool exterior beat a self-aware, needy, high-maintenance heart.

“God knows why, but the girl loves you,” she said, sounding a little baffled.

Amber was Beth’s daughter from her third—or was it fourth?—marriage. A Beth clone, Amber often found trouble simply because she felt lost in the shuffle.

“Just a warning—keep her away from the boys. She’s smitten.”

“By who?”

“By all of them.” Beth pushed away from the desk and sauntered close, running a finger over a pec. “You’re looking good, Kevin. Why is it men age so fine and women sag?”

He wasn’t going to touch that with a ten-foot pole.

“Want to come over tonight?”

“So you can have my ass kicked again?”

“Oh, honestly.” She huffed out a breath and waved a hand. “You’ve got to let bygones be bygones. I no longer have Daddy’s bodyguards looking for your blood. I fight my own battles now.”

“Uh huh.” He rubbed the phantom ache in his ribs from that long-ago beating. “You got a cool mil out of husband number two, right? Or was that husband number three?”

“It was four, if you’re counting.” She batted her lashes at him.

“Then don’t sell the teen center.”

“It’s too much trouble.”

“What trouble?”

“The pipes are failing.”

“I’ll fix the pipes, I’ll—”

“Oh, no,” she said with a low laugh. “If you want to discuss it, come over.” She smiled. “For old times’ sake.”

“Old times’ sake.” He put his hands on her arms and held her back from him. “Would that have been when you married me simply to piss off your father, or when you took what little savings I had and ran off to Paris for a shopping trip with your sister?”

At that moment Mike poked his head in the door. When he saw Beth, his eyes went flat.

“Well, look at you,” Beth purred at him, cocking her head. “Haven’t seen you in years.”

Mike smiled grimly, relating in that one small gesture how well he read lips.
It’s been a pleasure to go so long without seeing you,
he signed.

Beth shrugged and looked away, the ultimate rude gesture to the hearing-challenged. “Sorry,
no comprendo.
”

Mike waited until she looked at him again, and then gave her a sign no one could misunderstand.

Beth’s eyes went to ice as she stepped toward him.

Kevin quickly stepped between them. “Stop.”

Beth laughed. “Still protecting him from the real world?”

“You’ve dropped Amber off, now go.”

Yeah, go back to the rock you crawled out from beneath,
Mike signed.

Unable to catch the meaning, Beth narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing here anyway? You need more money from your brother? Or is it just that it’s too early to be hitting the bars and you’re wasting the time checking out cute underage girls?”

Kevin had to plant a hand in the middle of Mike’s chest to hold him back. He wrapped his other hand around Beth’s upper arm and escorted her to the door. “If you’re late to pick up Amber, I’m going to charge you by the minute.”

“Oooh.” She shivered, making sure to brush up against him. “You know I love it when you talk tough.” Before he knew what she meant to do, she slid her fingers in his hair, tugged his face forward, and planted her lips on his. “Mmm,” she purred when he jerked free. She licked her lips slowly and suggestively. “Still know how to kiss. Come on, have a drink with me tonight. For old times.”

He’d rather plow his bike into a cement freeway divider. “Six o’clock.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Actually, it’s a hell no.”

“Fine.” Her eyes frosted over. “You’re still impossible.” She straightened her purse on her shoulder, gave one last glare to Mike, who rolled his eyes, and stalked out.

What the fuck?
Mike signed.

Ignore her.

I mean you. Why didn’t you kick her ass out of here?

Were you not watching? That’s what I just did.

Mike shook his head.
You kept Amber for her.

Amber is a kid dealt a crappy set of parents. I’m not going to penalize her for her mother being the queen of bitches.

Mike looked at him, shook his head, but let out a low sound that was meant to be a laugh.
Whatever.

Why are you here this early?
Kevin signed.

Thought I’d check things out. See how things run.

You’ve given the job a lot of thought then.
Kevin felt a surge of hope. Dealing with Mike was tricky, like dealing with his teens. If Kevin appeared too eager, Mike would blow him off.

But Mike surprised him.
Yeah, and you’d better get to it before I wise up to the low pay and nonexistent benefits and get the hell out of here.

Kevin bit back his impatient reply. That Mike was here was good. It showed promise. He needed to leave it at that.

But, damn, he was getting really tired of coercing the people in his life to live up to their potential.

Hope resented like hell being treated like a stupid little kid. Granted, she’d acted the part earlier, cranking the stereo to headbanging rap for the pleasure of watching Aunt Apple’s blood boil. She’d kept the music cranked as she applied her black eyeliner and lipstick. She’d actually not worn makeup until this year, when her best friend Amy-Ann dumped her for Sally, and then she was accused of stealing that lip gloss she hadn’t stolen, and then her mother started acting like she was such a burden…

Everyone treated her as the black sheep. So she’d decided to dress the part.

Mia balked at the makeup. “Whatever look you were going for,” she’d said earlier, “you missed.”

“If you’re worried I’m going to embarrass you,” Hope had responded, “I could just stay here.”

“I don’t think so.”

That burned, Hope admitted. Yet again being treated like a piranha or, worse, a common thief.

But truth was truth. She wasn’t wanted here any more than she’d been wanted anywhere else. The thought brought a heavy weight to her shoulders and a despair that might have been assuaged by chocolate donuts, but there weren’t any. There wasn’t any breakfast at all except coffee and dry toast—
ick
—but Aunt Apple had promised to buy her whatever she wanted at the grocery store, and Hope was going to hold her to that.

They passed by the Diplomat, and Hope gave a tire a kick. It wouldn’t start, but Kevin was going to look at it. She hoped he meant it.

She slid into Mia’s fancy car, then struggled to act cool when she nearly drooled. The leather seats were soft, squishy,
wonderful.
They made an expensive-sounding noise, and she tried not to gawk over how great they felt compared to her own ripped seats, which scratched her skin.

Mia pulled out. Hope felt her glancing over, and finally she rolled her eyes. “
What?
Am I breathing wrong or something?”

“I thought teenagers were supposed to talk nonstop.”

“And I thought adults weren’t.”

Mia sighed and slid on her fancy sunglasses, and they drove in silence until they pulled up to the biggest high school Hope had ever seen. The teen center was next to it, a building that looked like a fast-food joint without any signs.

“It used to be a drive-through burger place,” Mia said. “Then an ice cream shop. But the students kept ripping the place off, and both folded. It’s a teen center now, at least until the building sells again.”

They got out of the car. Hope suddenly felt like dragging her feet. It was one thing to go to her school and stick out like a sore thumb. Another entirely to do it in front of countless strangers.

“What’s the matter?” Mia asked.

What if the kids didn’t like her here either? “Nothing.”

“Well, then pick it up. I’m late—Damn it!” One of her fancy high heels got caught on the asphalt and she nearly fell on her ass.

Hope’s mouth twitched.

Mia straightened and glared at her. “I’m ruining my Manolos.”

Hope glanced down at the admittedly gorgeous four-inch, strappy, satin-cork wedges and secretly drooled. “I’d be more worried about your ankles.” Someday she was going to wear shoes just like that, in black, ankles be damned.

“I’ve been walking in heels for years, my ankles are—
Argh!
” She nearly went down again, but this time when she straightened she was lopsided.

She’d broken off the heel.
“Shit.”

“I hope you got those on sale,” Hope said.

“
Now
what am I supposed to do?”

Hope lifted her heavy-soled black boots. “Payless specials, $15.99,” she said, but truthfully they didn’t look anywhere as sweet as the Manolos. “Want to borrow ’em?”

“No, thank you.” Mia grated her teeth and hobbled into the building.

Hope followed more reluctantly. The inside of the building had been painted a different primary color on each wall, each with tons of Polaroids of the kids tacked up. In the front room, clearly once a dining area, were two huge L-shaped couches, a Ping-Pong table, and a TV with PlayStation 2 running.

There was an older girl, maybe a college student, running the show, checking kids in, assigning them to stations like Ping-Pong, PlayStation, basketball, etc. It must have been someone’s birthday, because there was a balloon bouquet on the counter and confetti everywhere.

Watching Apple limp up to the sign-in area was fun. There was something to be said for Aunt Mia’s confidence. Her shoulders never slumped, her chin was always high, and her clothes screamed
I paid a fortune so back off, sucker.

Hope wanted to be just like her when she grew up.

The girl at the counter was reading an
Us Weekly
magazine with Paris Hilton on the cover, who wore some silly pink froufrou dress and was hoisting up her tiny little dog, who wore a matching outfit. The girl didn’t even look at Mia.

“Excuse me,” Mia said.

The girl kept reading but lifted a sign that said
FULL TODAY
.

“I’d like to get my niece into the program for this week,” Mia said.

Still reading, the girl shook her head. “Sorry.” She waved the sign. “Full today. It’s horseback riding day, and we fill up fast.”

Hope had no problem missing the horseback riding.

Mia opened her mouth, probably to blast the girl, but Hope tapped her aunt on the shoulder. “Um, I can go with you to work.”

“No.” Still looking cool as rain despite the early-morning heat and the fact that she’d broken her sandal, Mia shook her head. “You cannot come with me to work. Listen,” she said to the college girl. “Where’s Kevin McKnight?”

“He’s in his office, but—”

“Great. I’ll talk to him.”

“He’s getting ready to head over to the high school. He’s teaching—”

Mia simply walked around the counter, pulling Hope along with her.

“Hey,” the girl called. “You can’t—”

“Watch me,” Mia muttered.

Hope sure did. She watched Mia look like a woman on a mission, watched the younger woman cave, watched Mia get what she wanted.

God, to be like that.

They entered a hallway. There was a huge kitchen on the right, empty. The first door on the left opened wide and a woman sauntered out. She had perfect hair, perfect makeup, a perfect bright red suit and looked like she belonged on TV with a microphone, talking about an incoming tornado or something. Hope stared at her thinking
Wow, a Mia double,
except Mia was prettier and had nicer makeup. Were all the women in California totally put together and perfect?

And where did she sign up for being-perfect lessons?

The woman narrowed her eyes at Hope. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you it’s rude to stare?”

Mia stopped on the spot, one heel and all, drawing herself up even taller as she put her hand on Hope’s arm. “And didn’t your momma ever teach you it’s rude to talk to a kid that way?”

Hope stopped staring at Barbie Doll and looked in shock at Mia. Had she just heard that right? Had Mia just…
stood up for her?

Blondie looked Mia up and down, clearly assessing the clothes, the shoes, the one heel. A smirk crossed her face, but before she could put words with it, the office door opened again and out poked a head. Dark hair, matching dark eyes.

He looked just like Kevin.

He immediately turned to someone behind him and made a series of motions with his hands in an oddly graceful, beautiful way, signifying he was deaf.

Before Hope could digest that, Kevin appeared. Apparently possessing that adult ability to take in an entire situation with one glance, he sighed the sigh of a man greatly vexed. “Perfect,” she thought she heard him mutter.

In Hope’s world, a tense man meant things were going to start flying, so she took a big step back.

The Kevin look-alike joined them all in the hallway, smiling, though Hope had no idea what was so funny.

“If you charged all the people in designer clothes extra to babysit their brats,” Blondie said to Kevin, “you’d be able to buy this place yourself.”

“Six o’clock,” Kevin said to her.

“Yeah, yeah.” Blondie moved off, brushing her shoulder against Hope’s as she went, knocking her back a few feet.