Keeping Kennedy Page 9

  Kennedy threw her arms around his neck and sagged against him. She made a pleasant sound in her throat. “I never noticed how good you smell before, Drake.” She pressed her face to this throat and he tensed. “Really nice,” she murmured. “Good enough to eat.” She giggled.

  “Let’s get you inside,” he suggested and propelled her toward the door.

  “You’re the most handsome man I know,” she told him as they made an unsteady journey up the steps and across the porch. “And I know plenty.”

  “Thanks, Kennedy. I’ll remind you of that tomorrow and see if you still fell the same way.” Drake opened the door and then closed it behind him once he had Kennedy through it. He could just imagine hoe appalled Kennedy would feel at her actions come morning.

  “D.D.! Sweetpea!” Chuck met them in the foyer, decked out in love beads and a Nehru jacket. “We’re about to start a bonfire out back and have our mini Woodstock. Would you two like to join us?”

  “I think we’re going to call it a night,” Drake said quickly, hoping Kennedy wouldn’t protest.

  She giggled. “You really look cool, Daddy.”

  Chuck deposited a kiss on his daughter’s forehead, then headed back toward the kitchen as if nothing were amiss. “See you kids later.”

  Weak with relief, Drake ushered Kennedy toward the stairs. She stalled before they took their first step up. He glowered at her. If she wanted to go outside and join the Woodstock re-enactors, he would simply have to throw her over his shoulder and carry her upstairs.

  “We have to do something right now, Drake,” she whispered conspiratorially. “Aliens have invaded my parents’ bodies.”

  She looked so serious. Drake chucked her beneath the chin and smiled. “Don’t worry, sweetpea. They’ll be back to normal come Sunday.” As would the rest of the town, he didn’t add. Everywhere they looked people were wearing one retro look or the other.

  The rest of the journey to Kennedy’s bedroom was uneventful. Drake was grateful she didn’t put up a fuss. He would bet his next paycheck she had never been drunk before in her entire prim and proper life. Once he had her settled on the end of the bed, he knelt in front of her and removed her shoes.

  “Drake, you’re amazing. Did you know that?”

  He set the second shoe aside and looked up hesitantly. Kennedy wore a dreamy expression that seriously unsettled his equilibrium.

  “Thanks.” He stood, uncertain of what to do next. The lacy canopy draping Kennedy’s bed served as a reminder that she was not only his friend, but inexperienced and vulnerable.

  She stood on shaky legs. “In fact,” she said suggestively, “I’ve been thinking about nothing but you for days and days.” She started to unbutton her blouse. “It’s become like an ob-obsession.”

  Drake’s throat constricted, making speech impossible. He felt more than a little shaken himself.

  The blouse drifted to the floor. She loosened the tie at waist of her pants and they puddled around her ankles. Kennedy stepped out of them and closer to him. She reached up and started to unbutton his shirt then.

  “I’m certain there must be something wrong with me.” She sighed as she fussed with one particularly resistant button. “You act like you want me, but you never do anything about it.” She pushed the shirt open so she could touch his chest. Drake tensed. “I must be unappealing to you in some significant way.”

  “Whoa, Kennedy.” He encircled her wrists with his fingers and halted her exploring hands. “You’re getting a little carried away here.”

  “I rest my case,” she concluded. Those wide, expressive brown eyes peered up at him. “When you look at me, Drake, what do you see?”

  He had been trying really hard not to look at her. The moment she stepped out of those pants he had struggled not to look. “You don’t know what you’re doing—”

  “Look at me, Drake,” she demanded in a surprisingly steady voice.

  He clenched his jaw and obeyed. The breath rushed out of his lungs when his gaze roved over the slender yet intriguing curves of her body. A lacy lavender bra displayed rather than covered her small, firm breasts. French-cut matching panties just barely concealed her feminine treasure. Drake tried to swallow but the muscles of his throat still would not cooperate.

  “Don’t you see anything you like?” she prodded, doing a little suggestive shimmy.

  “Kennedy, I—”

  She shushed him with her lips. Her arms went around his neck, her body pressed firmly against his. All that bare, silky skin felt smooth and hot against his chest. Arousal was instantaneous. Despite his best intentions, Drake’s arms slid around her waist. Fire raged through his veins.

  “Make love to me, Drake,” she murmured between kisses. Her hips instinctively arched against his.

  “Kennedy,” he ground out. “You should go to bed now.”

  “Only if you go, too.” She planted a row of sweet kisses along the column of his throat.

  Using every ounce of his resolve, Drake set her away from him. He told himself again that this was his friend. None of what was happening between them was real. Kennedy wasn’t thinking straight right now.

  She was a virgin.

  No way in hell was he going to…

  “Don’t you dare say no.” She leaned forward and nipped his chin with her wicked teeth. “You’ve had me hot and bothered for two days. I want to know what all the fuss is about.”

  She captured his nipple in that hot little mouth then. Drake groaned as she licked, then kissed him there. His fingers tightened on her satiny skin, drawing her even closer to him.

  “You’d hate me tomorrow,” he managed when she moved to the left nipple.

  “Don’t talk, Drake,” she whispered against his skin as she pushed her shirt down and off his shoulders.

  He pulled his hands free of his shirt and allowed it to fall to the floor. Beyond reasoning with himself any longer, he kicked off his shoes, lifted her against him and carried her to the bed. Her long, silky hair fanned over the pillow as he laid her there and drew back to shed his jeans and briefs. She was more beautiful that any woman he had ever known. Soft and sweet and untouched. That last thought sent savage desire roaring inside him. He wanted her more than he wanted to take his next breath. He aligned his body with hers and looked down at her angelic face. His fingers trailed along her throat and she shivered.

  “Hurry, Drake,” she murmured, her eyes closed with the unbearable anticipation he himself felt.

  Her chest rose and fell with each breath she took, drawing his gaze to her perfect breasts. He touched her there and she moved restlessly, repeating her last plea a little more desperately. Slowly, with painstaking thoroughness, he removed her bra and tortured her as she had done him minutes ago. She moaned when his mouth closed over her breast. His arousal ached fiercely. He couldn’t hold out long. He closed his eyes against the tiny voice of protest still lingering in the back of his mind. His fingers moved down to remove the last barrier, her panties.

  For one long moment he could only look at her. Sudden and unbidden, a protective feeling so strong rose in him that he could not deny it. No matter how much he wanted her—his whole body ached, throbbed for her—he couldn’t do this. He rationalized his decision by insisting their friendship meant too much to him to compromise it. Drake pressed a final kiss between her breasts, and a dreamy sigh whispered past her lips.

  Lying alongside her again, he struggled several moments to regain control of his body. When he could speak without his voice shaking, he said, “Kennedy, no matter how much I want you, it wouldn’t be right like this.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  Damn. She was upset. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. It was a first. “I hope you understand that you’ll thank me in the morning.”

  She still didn’t say anything.

  Frowning, he shook her gently. “Kennedy.”

  A soft snore was his only response.

  ~*~

  Slowly, with tremendous effort, K
ennedy opened her eyes. The room came into focus at an even slower rate. Pain radiated through her head, searing through her brain. Even her scalp hurt. What had happened to her? Kennedy groaned loudly when she rolled onto her back and stared at the canopy overhead. She licked her lips and grimaced at the bad taste in her mouth.

  Image and voices suddenly rushed through her head like a DVR on fast forward. One too many Long Island Teas, kissing Drake, asking him to make love to her. Kennedy froze. Her eyes widened in horror. She lifted the cover and stared down at herself.

  She was naked.

  Oh, God.

  Drake had seduced her. She stilled, and clutched the sheet to her chin. No, that wasn’t right. She suddenly remembered quite clearly that she had insisted that he make love to her. The air evaporated in her lungs. Christ, what had she done? Not once in her entire adult life had she met a man who made her want to move a relationship to that level. And what had she done? Dragged Drake kicking and screaming into bed.

  Oh, God.

  She had to…to…

  Kennedy bolted upright. The room spun wildly. She closed her eyes until she regained her balance. She had to talk to him. To explain that she’d had too much to drink. She hadn’t meant for it to happen.

  It was a mistake.

  Kennedy paused to steady herself, when she got to her feet and thought about the last conclusion. Maybe it had been a mistake, but she would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit just how much she wanted Drake, then and now. Kennedy blinked away the confusing thoughts that accompanied that admission. She didn’t know what to make of all these feelings. And right now, she didn’t have time. She had to set him straight and get to the gym. Celia was counting on their help with decorating today.

  After donning a robe, Kennedy went in search of her faux fiancé. The sound of him whistling captured her sluggish attention. She cringed. Had what happened last night made him feel like whistling this morning? She couldn’t even remember hearing Drake whistle. Feeling as if her head might explode at any moment, Kennedy slowly made her way to the bathroom door. After several seconds of delay to gather her courage, she rapped softly on the door.

  The whistling stopped. “Yeah?”

  Kennedy swallowed the seemingly fuzzy lump at the back of her throat, and closed her eyes to block the pain inside her head. “Drake, I need to speak with you.”

  “Come on in. It’s not locked. I’m almost finished shaving,” came his deep, masculine response. The image of that chiseled jaw covered in shaving lather, and him wearing nothing but a towel suddenly appeared behind her closed lids.

  Kennedy snapped her eyes open and gently shook her aching head. “No, that’s okay. I’ll just say what I have to say from here.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  Kennedy took a deep breath and released it slowly. She clutched the doorframe for support. “I just wanted to ask if…” She couldn’t say it. Kennedy pressed her forehead against the cool painted surface of the door. How could she ask him if what she thought had happened actually had?

  “If what?” His low, gentle voice was just on the other side of the door. The thought of only that thin slab of wood standing between them sent a warm glow rushing through her. How had this happened so fast?

  “If we…we did what I think we…did?” she stammered. God, she wanted to curl up and die.

  The long pause almost did in the last of her resolve. How would she ever face him again? She would have to move. It was that simple. She couldn’t possibly live next door to him after…after…

  “You want to know if we made love last night.”

  Was it her imagination or had his voice dropped to an even deeper, huskier level? She closed her eyes tight and imagined his forehead pressed to the other side of the door. She imagined his full lips parting as he spoke his next words.

  “Never fear, Kennedy,” he murmured. “Your virginity is safe with me.”

  Chapter Seven

  Drake waited outside Martin’s front door for what seemed like forever before the man answered. The mayor’s call this morning had been no surprise. Drake had pretty much figured out the reason for this clandestine meeting. The wary expression the older man wore when he answered the door only confirmed Drake’s suspicions.

  “Come in.” Martin stepped aside for him to enter. “I’m glad you could come right over.”

  “You have a nice home.” Drake scanned the living room as he crossed to a chair. “Pretty cozy for a confirmed bachelor,” he added cryptically.

  Martin sat down on the sofa directly across from him. The camera lay on the coffee table between them. Drake automatically picked it up and checked the settings to make sure nothing was changed.

  “I didn’t remove the film,” Martin assured him.

  Drake paused and looked up. “I didn’t think you did.” He set the camera aside. “Checking my equipment is as much a part of my natural reflexes as breathing.”

  Martin sighed and leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees. He eyed Drake for a long moment before he spoke. “I don’t want you to develop that film. Not until you’re back in D.C, anyway.”

  Drake relaxed into his chair and considered the man’s request. “Why?” He wasn’t asking why he shouldn’t develop the film. He already knew the answer to that.

  “For the same reason I suspect you’re pretending to be Kennedy’s fiancé.”

  That got Drake’s attention. He raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “What tipped you off?”

  Martin smiled, a slow, knowing gesture. “I know my niece. She’s too much like me. Not the marrying kind.”

  “Then why the elaborate ruse?”

  “That, my boy, is a long story.” Martin’s gaze took on a distant look, clouded with memories from his past.

  “I don’t have to be at the gym for a while yet,” Drake suggested.

  Martin studied his hands for a moment, then began. “Thirty-some years ago I was madly in love with a woman, but I was too busy with my aspiring law career to pay her any notice. By the time I got around to it, she was seeing someone else.” Martin shrugged. “I decided I needed something big to sweep her off her feet.”

  “And the Friendly Corners’ kissing bandit was born,” Drake added. “I guess that explains where Kennedy got her creative ability.”

  A smile played about Martin’s lips. “The whole town was in an uproar.” He chuckled softly. “I guess you could say it was my fifteen minutes of fame, except no one knew it but me.” The mayor lapsed into silence for a time.

  “What happened to the woman?” Drake prodded when it seemed Martin might not go on. According to Kennedy her uncle had never married.

  “I played the part for all it was worth. Then, the last kiss I stole was to be hers, and, of course, I would propose while she was still swooning.” He dragged a hand down his face. “The night before my big coming-out she eloped with her attentive boyfriend.”

  Drake winced. “Tough break.”

  Martin searched Drake’s face for several seconds before he continued. “I made a mistake. Are you going to make the same one?”

  “I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Drake hedged.

  “I know Kennedy. She’s determined to make a big splash career-wise.” He shook his graying head. “Just like I was, pushing everything else aside—including love. She won’t realize it until it’s too late.”

  If Martin only knew just how much Kennedy had already pushed aside. “She loves her work,” Drake offered by the way of explanation on Kennedy’s behalf. “She’s still young.”

  “And what about you?”

  Drake averted his gaze. Thirty-three and alone. This wasn’t the first time he’s considered his single status. “I’ll admit that I have some regrets.” His gaze connected with the mayor’s once more. “But nothing earth-shattering.”

  Another of those knowing grins spread across Martin’s face. “Until now.”

  Drake blew out a breath. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter, does it? Kennedy isn’t i
nterested.” Emotions he couldn’t begin to analyze whirled inside him. How could he be feeling all this now? And with a woman who wouldn’t dream of returning those feelings?

  “Kennedy’s a stubborn young woman, there’s no denying it, but she’s no fool. You just have to make her see that there’s more to life than her career.”

  Drake laughed dryly. “I’d have a better chance of finding my way out of a South American jungle blindfolded and with my hands tied behind my back.”

  “It’s never over until it’s over.”

  Drake’s brow creased in puzzlement. He’d heard that before. It was one of Kennedy’s favorite mottos.

  “That’s what Kennedy said to me at the reception when I told her I was glad she hadn’t waited until it was too late like I did. She looked me dead in the eye and said, ‘It’s never too late as long as you’re still breathing.’ She was right, you know.”

  The smile sneaked up on Drake just as realization did. “And Zorro was reborn?”

  Martin nodded. “My lady’s husband died two years ago. I’ve waited all this time. Now I have a second chance. Thanks to Kennedy’s advice, I’m going to take it.”

  “Anyone I know?”

  “Celia,” Martin said reverently.

  Which reminded Drake that he was expected at the gym. He glanced at his watch, then picked up his camera. “Sounds like you’ve got a plan.” He stood. Kennedy would be wondering where he was. “Celia’s a terrific lady.”

  “Yes, she is.” Martin pushed to his feet. “And what about you? Do you have a plan?”

  Drake shrugged halfheartedly. “Nope.” He smiled. “But then I’ve always been an improvisational kind of guy.”

  Martin followed him to the door. “So, you’ll hold on to the film.”

  “I’ll send you copies when I get back to D.C.” Drake hesitated before turning away. “When’s the unmasking?”

  A mischievous look twinkled in Martin’s eyes. “At the masquerade ball, of course.”

  “Let me guess,” Drake said. “You’re going as Zorro.”