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He nodded and walked towards the door he’d fallen through earlier.
Kitt followed. “Where are you living and how long have you been here?”
“Two weeks and I’m at Crown Pointe Condominiums. Unit 309.”
A condo? GQ. Top of the line tennis shoes and name brand shirt and jeans. She couldn’t help but wonder. “What are—?”
“You ask too many questions. Like I said, I have to go.”
She was going to inquire about his employment but maybe he sensed that. He must do something to make a living. Was he ashamed of the way he made his money? She hoped it wasn’t illegal.
Flashing his dimples, Rob kissed her on the lips, fast but with tongue. His moods and manner changed like quicksilver. He flirted, grew intimate, then when she did in return, he backed away.
“Your aunt said she expected you to stay around for a while so I sought out real estate.” He widened his stance and his grin.
“Real estate? You bought?” Because of me? She was afraid to ask but her heart pounded and her hopes rose.
“Leased. Buying is too permanent. Leasing is a bigger commitment than I usually make.”
She could believe that. “Should I ask the length of your lease?”
“You should not.” Grinning and lowering his thick lashes, he tipped her chin with his forefinger and looked into her eyes. “I do remember your name, by the way. It’s Kitt.”
He’d heard Auntie and her talking. Had he faked the whole drunk-and-passed-out thing? She planted her hands on my hips. “You—”
“Kitt is a nickname for Katherine, but you’re my Kitten.”
He remembered. ‘Kitten’ was what he called her when they were alone. She smiled.
He opened the door and looked out and she followed his gaze.
The first morning light shown on a shiny black sports car parked behind hers. He used to drive a rusted-out brown bomber he found at the junkyard and got running. Another big change for Rob Harrison.
“Nice wheels,” she said.
“Thanks.” He tapped a fist to her chin. “See you.” He jogged down the walk.
See me? She could barely keep herself from calling out, “When?”
He blew the horn—an ahooga sound that no doubt woke Aunt Sug, Mrs. Jones, and the rest of the world. Who, but Rob Harrison, would put one of those outrageous horns on a gorgeous, expensive car? Kitt had told him he hadn’t changed, and he was still outrageous, adorable, and unbearably sexy, but he’d sure come up in the world.
One way. Or another? She had to know how.
Kitt poured two cups of coffee and, lacing one with sugar and cream, she sighed. Rob said he came by Auntie’s last night because he knew she’d arrived. And he’d leased a condo because of her. Or so he said. Was he feeding her a mile-thick line of crap or had he actually harboured a long-time interest in her? Kitt’s heart raced with hope and her body ached with desire.
She was about to serve the sweet creamy cup of java to Sug in bed when she appeared in her blue and white, eat-in kitchen, fully dressed.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll take a piece of wheat toast and honey with that, Kitt.”
“You’re mighty perky this morning,” she replied, dropping a piece of bread in the toaster. “I thought you were supposed to stay in bed.”
“I didn’t say that. You did. Anyway, I got a good night’s rest. I’ll get bed sores if I spend all my time lying down.”
Sug was still snoring or pretending to after the horn incident and Kitt, thankful not to be questioned, had fallen into bed and a deep sleep. Sexual satisfaction must have been just what she needed. Lord, that man was good at what he did. Now, if she could just get him into the sack for the real thing. She’d love to see his penis. Stroke it. The closest she’d ever gotten was groping his hard-on through his pants before he’d brushed her hand away.
She’d often dreamed about its solid length beneath her fingers as she traced the cording and fingered the smooth, solid head. She’d like to touch that tiny opening and coax a drop of his fluid from it.
“If you start purring, I’m going to throw cold water on you,” Sug said, tapping her knife against her coffee cup. “My toast is ready, my coffee’s cold, and I’m getting older by the minute.”
