Passionate Pleasures (14 page)

“A date. At my age,” Kathryn St. John said, shaking her head.

“Hey, you look like thirty-five, and besides, forty-eight isn’t the end of the world nowadays. They say fifty is the new thirty.”

“Terrific, and I look like thirty-five,” Kathryn said gloomily.

“You still look fuckable, sweetie,” Mavis said cheerfully.

Kathryn St. John laughed. She knew Mavis was right. She didn’t look her age.

“I’ll expect a full report Saturday morning before eleven,” Mavis told her.

“There’ll be nothing to report on,” Kathryn said. “We’re eating, and seeing an old movie. Nothing more.”

“You don’t think he’ll try to kiss you?” Mavis asked.

“Mavis, for God’s sake, we’re grown-ups, not teenagers!” Her cheeks were hot.

“I’ll bet he at least tries,” Mavis said with certainly.

“You’re scaring me to death,” Kathryn told her. “Now I’ll be watching his every move the whole damned evening.”

“Once you kids start going steady, maybe you can double with Jeremy and me,” Mavis teased wickedly.

“Keep it up and I’m wearing a plaid suit and oxfords,” Kathryn threatened.

Mavis collapsed with laugher on her friend’s bed.

“And horn-rimmed glasses!” Kathryn said.

Mavis said nothing more, because she knew from long experience that if she dared Kathryn, her friend would show up for her date in the plaid suit, the oxfords, and the glasses. Kathryn St. John had never refused a dare in all her life.

“What’s the matter with Miss Kathy?” Caroline asked mid-morning Friday.

“Why should there be anything the matter?” Mavis asked.

“I don’t know. She just snapped at me. She never snaps,” Caroline said.

“Hey, even the perfect Miss Kathy has a bad day every few years,” Mavis replied. She controlled the grin that was threatening to break out on her face.

At four thirty Kathryn called Mavis into her office. “I’m going to leave in a few minutes. I have to shower and dress. You lock up for me, okay?”

“Wear the short black boots,” Mavis said. “They go with the pink sweater and the gray slacks, sweetie.”

“How about a nice white Irish sweater?” Kathryn said.

“Pink!” Mavis responded sternly. “It’s a date, not dinner at my house.”

“But I’m not a pink person,” Kathryn said.

“Tonight you’re a pink person, and wear your hair down,” Mavis told her.

“I’ll pull it back,” came the answer.

“No! Just leave it down,” Mavis said. “Get ahold of yourself, Kathy. Now get out of here. You said he’s picking you up at five thirty. Go!”

Kathryn St. John hurried from the library and across the garden, letting herself into the cottage with her key. She turned a light on in the living room, and saw the front-door light was lit. It would be dark or almost dark by the time he came. Running up the stairs, she peeled her working clothes off, hung them up, and pulled out her gray slacks and black boots from the walk-in closet. Opening a drawer, she lifted the pink sweater out.

God, it was so feminine! She wasn’t used to soft and pink.

Undoing her hair, then tucking it up, she showered, slowly lathering the soap generously, stepping into the water jets to rinse. She was going on a date. Kathryn St. John was going out with a man tonight. She stepped from the shower and dried herself off. Opening her lingerie drawer, she pulled out a pair of white silk panties, a lacy bra and a pair of cashmere socks. She stepped into the briefs and hooked the bra. Next came the pale gray slacks, and finally the pink sweater.

She looked at herself in the mirror. It wasn’t too bad. The wide rolled cowlneck fell in a graceful drape. She wore pink in The Channel as Lady St. John, and it was flattering, she considered. And Lady St. John wore ringlets, Kathryn thought, as she let her hair down and brushed it out. It fell in thick waves about her shoulders. My God!

She was drop-dead sexy, and she couldn’t recall the last time she had thought that about herself. Forty-eight years old, and sexysexysexy tonight. She slipped her feet into her low black suede boots, put her cell and her reading glasses into a matching clutch. Then she went downstairs. Her foot had barely touched the floor when there was a knock on the door. She hurried to open it.

His jaw dropped. He gulped, and grinned foolishly.

“Are you all right?” she asked him as he stepped into the cottage.

“I came to pick up the mousey little town librarian and I get the ghost of Suzy Parker,” Timothy Blair said.

“I have never qualified as mousey,” Kathryn said, taken aback by his reaction.

“It’s a rule. All town librarians are mousey,” Tim told her. “When did you get so gorgeous? That sweater is delicious. You look terrific, and I love your hair down.”

“Before you declare your undying devotion to me,” Kathryn said caustically, “I’ll get my cape, and we’ll go. Your car parked out front of the library?”

He laughed. “Okay, you’re not mousey, even in the library, but you really do look terrific tonight, Kathy. Better than I deserve.” He took the pale gray cape from her and draped it around her shoulders. “Yeah, I’m out front.”

She slipped her keys into the cape pocket as she turned the front door to lock and pulled it shut.

“Question?” he said.

“As long as it’s not about my choice of clothing,” she said.

“Why is the town all decorated? The trees have cornstalks tied to them with orange ribbon. There are pumpkins, gourds, baskets of apples. Is this some weird country thing?” Timothy Blair said.

“Didn’t you see the banner across the main street?” Kathryn replied. “It’s our annual fall festival. We have it at the end of October every year. It’s a benefit for the hospital. It’s tomorrow and Sunday. Didn’t you hear about it at school? Then before Christmas we have a fair to benefit the library. It’s small-town America, Tim.”

“I’ve been too busy implementing some new ideas to listen to gossip,” he answered her.

“Mavis can tell you that in a small town, gossip is how we know what’s happening,” Kathryn said, and she smiled. He really was a city kid. Would he ever get used to living in Egret Pointe?

He helped her into his car, and they headed for the mall outside of the village.

“Italian okay with you?” he asked. “The movie starts at seven thirty.”

“Fine with me. I’ll eat almost anything except fish,” she told him.

The front of the restaurant was a pizzeria. The dining room was in the rear. It was early, and so they got a table almost immediately. He ordered spaghetti with meat sauce and meatballs with a salad. She ordered meat ravioli and a salad. The waiter brought a basket of hot garlic bread and a tub of sweet butter, along with two glasses of the house red wine.

“Hey, don’t eat all the bread,” he complained as she reached for her third piece.

“I can’t help it,” Kathryn said. “It’s too yummy.” Oh God! Did she just say
yummy
? It was the damned pink sweater. It was enchanted, and it was making her say silly, cutesy things.

But he just grinned. “I like a woman with a good appetite. My fiancée liked to eat too, and she was a little thing, but she never gained a pound.”

“You were engaged?” she pretended ignorance.

“Yeah. She was killed before the wedding. Accident. Funny. I haven’t spoken about it in years,” Tim remarked.

“I’m sorry,” Kathryn replied. What else did you say to something like that?

“Look,” Tim said, “if I’m a bit awkward tonight, put it down to the fact I haven’t been out on a real date since Phoebe died a couple of years ago.”

“You’ve been out on not-real dates? What’s a not-real date?” she asked, humorously attempting to alleviate the situation.

He laughed now. “A not-real date is the assistant headmaster escorting one of the widowed or single older teachers to school functions,” Tim told her.

“Ahhh,” she said, enlightened. “Well, I haven’t been out on a real date in so long I can’t even remember the last time. There aren’t too many gentlemen callers for the town librarian. Actually there aren’t too many single men in my age group available.”

“I’m forty-three,” he said. “Last February.”

“I’m older,” she told him.

“Yeah, I know. You’re five years older than I am. I guess that qualifies you as a cougar,” he teased.

“A cougar?” Kathryn St. John looked puzzled. “Obviously I’ve missed something. This has got to be a new colloquialism, right?”

“Right. A cougar is an older woman who dates a younger man,” he told her.

“Ohh, I actually like that,” she replied. “Much nicer than ‘cradle robber.’ And how the hell did you know how old I was?”

“Gossip, m’dear.” He grinned wickedly.

She laughed, suddenly realizing she wasn’t uncomfortable with him any longer. He was funny, and he was fun. And Kathryn St. John was a cougar on the prowl tonight.

Their meal came and they both ate with gusto, enjoying the well-cooked, well-seasoned food on their plates.

“Tiramisu?” their waiter asked when they had finished.

“We have time,” Tim said. “Make it two!”

He put his arm around her in the movie, and while startled at first, she found she felt comfortable enough with him now to let it be. She cried when the Suzy Parker character, Gregg, was killed falling off of a firescape. She always cried at that part of the movie. She reached for her handkerchief and discovered she had forgotten to put it in her clutch. Tim handed her his. It was big and smelled of sandalwood.

“Thank you.” She sniffled. “I’ll have Mrs. Bills wash it and return it to you.”

“That’s okay,” he said. “Force of habit. I always carry two. Phoebe used to cry in movies also.”

Later, as they left the movie, she told him, “I always thought Suzy Parker was underrated as an actress by Hollywood. That was a pretty meaty role, and she nailed it. But all they ever saw was the first of the beautiful super-models. Pity.”

“Is she still alive?” he asked her.

“No. She died a few years back.”

“Want to stop for ice cream?” he tempted her. “Walt’s is open late on Friday and Saturday nights, I’m told.”

“We’ve already had dessert,” Kathryn said.

“Is there a law in Egret Pointe that says you can only have one dessert a day?” Tim teased. “I’m hungry again.” He pulled into a space in front of Walt’s ice-cream parlor. “If you’re watching your figure, I’ll get something to go.”

“Get two to go, and we’ll eat it back at my place,” Kathryn invited him. “Strawberry with hot fudge, please.”

“Don’t want to be seen with me?” he teased her.

“We’ve already been seen, Tim. There were at least three couples in the restaurant I recognized, and who recognized me. And the movie was full of Jeremy’s Books into Movies class. Let’s keep the town guessing for a while, okay?”

He grinned at her. “Do your friends know what a really bad girl you are?” Tim asked. “I like you, Kathy St. John. I think we could be friends.” Then he exited the car, and went into Walt’s for their ice cream.

Well, that was interesting, Kathryn thought to herself. Did she want to be friends with Timothy Blair? And what kind of friends would they be? Movie buddies? Friends with benefits? Boyfriend/girlfriend? There was a host of possibilities available to her.

He liked her. The truth was that she liked him too. If only he would stop showing up in her fantasies. That was the only thing making her uncomfortable about him. She missed The Channel, but having all the men she had sex with there look like Timothy Blair was more than disconcerting.

On the other hand there could be an advantage to it, Kathryn thought for the first time. She could fuck Tim all she wanted in The Channel, and no one would ever know it.

He would never know it. She would remain the town’s chaste St. John librarian, and Hallock wouldn’t be on her case once he realized her friendship with the Middle School principal was just that. A simple and innocent friendship. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? The men in The Channel didn’t really exist. So what did it matter what they looked like? She knew Tim Blair enough now not to be embarrassed when she saw him or dealt with him. No matter his appearance, he wasn’t the man in The Channel. Obviously she had a little crush on him. It would pass.

“You’re deep in thought,” Tim said, climbing back into the car and handing her the bag. “Two sundaes. One strawberry with hot fudge, and the other dulce de leche with caramel sauce. Let’s get them back to your place before they melt.”

Five minutes later they were in the living room of the cottage. Kathryn walked over to the fireplace, and suddenly a cheerful blaze sprang up. “Gas,” she said. “I’m not a purist like Mavis and Jeremy. And I never have to clean the fireplace out of ash and soot. Or rather Mrs. Bills doesn’t.”

He chuckled as they settled down on the couch opposite the fire to eat their sundaes. “She’s a marvel, isn’t she? I owe Doris Kirk big-time for putting us in touch.”

Her cheeks were pink, and her green eyes sparkled as she ate her sundae. He didn’t think.

Kathy didn’t look forty-eight at all. She was one sexy lady. He would love to pull her into his arms and kiss her. He hadn’t kissed a woman since Phoebe, and wondered if he still knew how to kiss. But Kathryn St. John had given him no indication that she was interested in kissing him, and he wasn’t a man to push the issue. He wanted to get to know her better, and if it was right then the time would come.

“I had fun tonight,” Kathryn said.

“Enough fun to do it again?” he asked softly.

She was startled by the request, and blushed. “Sure,” she finally said. “Call me anytime, Tim.”

“How about tomorrow?” he asked. “I get the feeling the new Middle School principal should show up sometime at the Harvest Festival. I don’t want to look unfriendly, after all.”

“Actually, that would be a very smart thing to do. You want to look like you’re making an effort to blend into the town and town life. You know my brother is on the school board, and he can be very influential. If you really plan to make your home here, then that would really be a good start for you. If you like, I’ll take you to the festival and introduce you around.”