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“I’m afraid you’ll be too busy for that.” He gave her a long, lazy look. “Keeping me satisfied in bed’s going to be a full-time job.”
The picture that flashed through her mind was so sizzling that he and his bike were halfway to the barn before she got her voice back. “Hey, Dean.”
He glanced over his shoulder. She shaded her eyes from the sun. “If you’re serious about getting it on again, be sure to give me some advance notice, so I can grab my appointment calendar and block out three minutes.”
He didn’t laugh. Not that she’d exactly expected him to. But neither had she expected to see the way he looked at her, as if the national anthem had just ended and they were starting a brand-new game.
A little later, while Blue was cleaning up the kitchen, she heard Dean drive off. April came in dressed in old clothes and lugging a pile of drop cloths. “Apparently Dean didn’t manage to run down the contractor on Friday,” she said, “because no one has shown up this morning, and I’m not sitting around all day waiting for them to get to this kitchen. I have the paint. Want to help?”
“Sure.”
They’d barely gotten set up before April disappeared to take another of her mysterious phone calls. When she came back, she put on Gwen Stefani, and by the time Gwen belted out “Hollaback Girl,” it had become apparent that April’s dance skills far exceeded her painting experience, so Blue directed the job.
As they finished the prep work, they heard a car, and a few minutes later, Jack Patriot ambled in, wearing worn jeans and a tight-fitting SCORCHED T-shirt from his last tour. Blue hadn’t expected him to come back, and she stumbled on nothing. He grabbed her just as she was about to step into the roller pan. April, who’d been doing some X-rated grinds to “Baby Got Back,” immediately stopped dancing. Jack set Blue on her feet. “Any idea what it might take for you to get past this?” he said.
“I—Yes—I—Oh, God…” She flushed from her roots down. “Sorry. I’m sure a lot of people say they’re your number one fan, but I really am.” She pressed a hand to her hot cheek. “I…well…I had sort of an itinerant childhood, but your songs were always there, no matter where I was or who I was living with.” Now that she’d gotten started, she couldn’t stop herself, even as he drifted toward the coffeepot. “I own every album. All of them, even Outta My Way, which I know the critics trashed, but they’re wrong because it’s wonderful, and ‘Screams’ is one of my favorite songs, like seeing right into my heart the way I was then, and, oh shit, I know I’m babbling like a fool, but in the real world Jack Patriot doesn’t just pop into your life. I mean how is anybody supposed to prepare for this?”
He stirred in a teaspoon of sugar. “Maybe I could autograph your arm.”
“Really?”
He laughed. “No, not really. I don’t think Dean would take it too well.”
“Oh.” She licked her lips. “I guess not.”
He tilted his head toward April. “Help us out here.”
April tossed her hair. “Sleep with him, Blue. That’ll bring you down to earth real fast. He’s a huge disappointment.”
A slow grin curled the corner of his mouth. “I’ll buy the huge part…”
April dropped her eyes to his crotch. “There are some things a man can’t buy, no matter how rich he is.”
He propped one shoulder against the doorjamb and let his eyes play a hot lick down her body. “I still get inspired by sharp-tongued women. Grab a piece of paper for me, April. I feel a song coming on.”
Sex blistered the air between them. They might be in their fifties, but teenage lust simmered in that kitchen. Blue half expected the walls to start sweating, and she began to ease out of the room, only to stumble on the drop cloth.
The movement broke the spell, and April turned away. Jack inspected the ceiling where Blue had cut in the paint. “Let me get my stuff unloaded and I’ll help out.”
“You know how to paint?” Blue said.
“My dad was a carpenter. I did a lot of construction work when I was a kid.”
“I’m going to check on Riley.” April pushed past him and headed for the side door.
Blue gulped. She was getting ready to paint a kitchen with Jack Patriot. Her life got more bizarre by the minute.
Chapter Fourteen
When Dean got back that afternoon, he discovered Jack and April silently painting opposite walls of his kitchen while Coldplay blared in the background. Bright yellow paint splattered April from head to toe, but Jack had only a few smears on his hands. Until yesterday, Dean had never seen the two of them together. Now they were painting his fucking kitchen.
He stalked off to find Blue. On the way, he pulled out his BlackBerry to check his messages. April had sent the latest ten minutes ago.
We only have a gallon of yellow paint left. Go buy more.
He found Blue in the dining room, working on the ceiling. She looked like a pocket-size Bo Peep with a paint roller in her hand. Her splattered green T-shirt hung nearly to her hips, covering up the trim body she was determined to hide from him. Not for long, however. He jabbed his thumb toward the kitchen. “What’s going on in there?”
“Exactly what it looks like.” The plastic drop cloth rustled under her feet as she moved a few steps to the side. “Fortunately, Jack knows his way around a paintbrush, but I’ve had to watch April like a hawk.”
