Real Women Don't Wear Size 2 (37 page)

“Where did you get this thing?” Ethan asked, indicating the vehicle that was currently trying its best to go from zero to a hundred before they exited the parking lot, thanks to the wild woman behind the wheel. What had he been thinking agreeing to let her drive?

“I’m kind of in a hurry to see my sister,” Babette informed, using a hand-over-hand maneuver to peel onto the street at a ninety-degree angle and toss Ethan’s shoulder against his door in the process.

“You can’t be more anxious to see her than I am. But hell, I’d like to get there in one piece.” His head still reeled from last night’s tangle with Jägermeister, and this woman’s driving “skills” weren’t helping. Not to mention the fact that his stomach was in knots at the thought of seeing Clarise—and having her turn him down. The past two nights had been near unbearable, a powerful hunger to touch her again, hear her voice, hold her in his arms. Ethan thought of those big brown eyes widening when she realized how desirable she was and how the mere beginnings of her smile brought him to a near-combustible state of arousal, and not merely because of her sexual appeal, but because—she was Clarise. His Clarise. He hoped.

“I bought it from a junkyard.” Babette took his attention off his apprehension when she screeched to a halt at a red light. “Perpetual college students don’t have a lot of spare cash.”

Ethan decided to try to keep his mind off of the looming interaction with the woman he loved. With Babette’s driving, and the state of her “vehicle,” he had plenty of other items to consider in the interim. Such as staying alive. As she punched the gas once more, he analyzed the car, which had provided a stark contrast to the storefront of Eubanks Elegant Apparel. The body on the driver’s side was pale purple. From what he could tell of the passenger’s side, it was pure Bondo. The hood was shiny royal blue with a hot pink swirling flame that looked like something off
Pimp My Ride.

Babette cranked the window down, and cold air immediately whipped in. “Sorry,” she said, “but this will help me stay alert to think clearly when I see Clarise. Strange, it didn’t seem that cold when we were standing in front of the store. Anyway, I didn’t sleep at all last night, and I sure don’t want to botch this.”

Ethan chose not to point out that he hadn’t slept in
two
nights, or that it didn’t seem that cold outside the store because they weren’t doing 110 miles per hour on I-59.

“I never meant to hurt Clarise,” she continued. “Sometimes I say things that don’t come out right, but I really do love my sister. I just tend to act first and think later.” Before Ethan could speak, she added, “And I don’t need any comments about it from you. It’s difficult enough trying to see you after what you did.”

“After what
I
did?” Ethan shot, unwilling to hold his tongue on this particular matter. Babette Robinson’s ability to act first and think later had damn nearly cost him a chance with the woman he loved. In fact, depending on how Clarise reacted when she heard the truth, Babette still could have done him in with her impulsiveness. No way was he taking the blame on this one. “What
I
did?” he repeated.

“Listen, we don’t need to argue about this now,” she instructed, as though she hadn’t been the one to open this can of worms. “Let me tell you about the car.” Then she barreled into another discussion without so much as apologizing for her insinuation that last year’s fiasco was Ethan’s fault.

He held back on the urge to throttle her.
“Marry the girl, marry her family.”
Wasn’t that the old saying? He shot a glance at Babette, driving like Jeff Gordon and talking ninety-to-nothing in the process, and not one of those words accepted any blame for last year. Then he thought of Granny Gert, playing watchdog over Clarise’s phone and even her answering machine, since she’d informed him she’d deleted his messages. Marrying this family would be interesting, Ethan realized. A swift surge of excitement pulsed through his chest. Marrying Clarise—and her family—was something he wanted very much, interesting or not. God, he hoped the woman in the driver’s seat didn’t say the wrong thing when they got wherever they were going.

Babette didn’t even break her stride in solo conversation. “The teenager in the apartment next to mine is a vo-tech student,” she rattled on. “I let him and his classmates practice on Sylvia”—she patted the dash—“that’s what I call her. Problem is, giving them that kind of free rein means I have no say in how she looks, so she’s eclectic, wouldn’t you say?” she asked, as though Ethan could get a word in. Damn, how long till they got to Clarise? Babette took the next exit by storm, rushing through the yellow light at the base of the ramp.

“But they also work on engines,” she continued. “And by the way, we’re nearly at Lowery. Hope she’s okay, and I hope you’re ready for this. Goodness knows I’m not. Two minutes until we’re there,” she concluded, pushing the gas pedal to the floor.

“Lowery State? The college?” Ethan yelled over the frigid wind rushing around his ears.

“You want to see Clarise, right?” she screamed. She glanced at Ethan as they entered the campus. “Oh Lord,” she said, whipping into a parking space in front of a big brick building.

“What?” he asked.

“She didn’t want you to know about her classes, did she?” Then Babette looked up and gasped. “Oh, no.”

Ethan followed her line of sight—and saw Clarise. She’d evidently been walking toward the building’s entrance and had stopped to view the car screeching into the parking area. Her hair was twisted up in some fashionable knot; it was the same style she always wore to work. Funny, he’d never looked at it back then and immediately thought of nuzzling her neck. He did now. He’d also never noticed how intriguing she looked in the long black leather coat that was her winter staple. He did now. He’d also never seen the look of disappointment, and then quickly of disgust, that turned her features from a combination of sweet and sexy to a definite expression of ready to kill.

“Oh no,” Babette repeated. “I should have thought of how this would look.”

Chapter 23

C
larise knew the owner of the rumbling muffler before she turned to verify that her sister’s car was making its way on campus. She squinted to see Babette, whose window was down and whose hair was—black? She sighed. Wild and sassy and feisty Babette. No wonder Ethan, like most men, had been captivated by her charm. A hint of sunlight filtered through the cloudy sky, and Clarise saw the car more clearly and noticed that Babette wasn’t the only passenger.

“Oh my,” she whispered. She’d known this confrontation would come, had even suspected it would happen today, but still, seeing Ethan in the car with Babette had a strange effect on her senses. A strange, green effect, and she so wanted to be done with her petty jealousy of her sister. But here it was, rearing its ugly head again. Clarise stopped and stared at them as Babette whirled into a parking space. Then she watched her sister jump out and run up the sidewalk, her stiletto boots clicking wildly and her very black hair bobbing frantically.

Ethan’s door opened, and he also climbed out of the car. White dress shirt. Black slacks. A damn fine handsome man, and a man she thought would be hers. He looked at Clarise and gave her a rueful smile. Then he followed in Babette’s wake, but at a much slower, much more controlled, and incredibly sexy pace.

“Clarise, it wasn’t his fault!” Babette blurted. She placed a hand to her chest, her red leather-covered chest, and pounded at her heart. “It wasn’t,” she repeated breathlessly. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know,” Clarise said, while Ethan made his way up the sidewalk, then stopped between the two sisters. He wasn’t standing close enough for her to feel his body heat, or so Clarise thought, but she sure was feeling something, and looking at his questioning blue eyes didn’t help it go away. No. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—get lost in those captivating eyes now. She looked at Babette.

“You know?” her sister asked.

“Yes,” Clarise said, taking a deep breath and gaining the composure she’d need to tell them the rest. “It wasn’t your fault, Ethan,” she said, stealing a quick glance at the man she had loved. Who was she kidding? The man she
still loved.

“You know what happened?” Ethan asked.

Clarise nodded, then forced her attention away from that face, those eyes, that mouth. Standing this close was way too tempting, particularly when she’d made up her mind.

“Who told you?” Babette asked. She folded her arms beneath her chest, which was covered in a short-waisted red leather jacket with a silver zipper up the center and made her look extremely sexy. It was an outfit Clarise could never pull off, thanks to her Robinson Treasures.

“Jake,” Clarise said simply. “And I wanted to talk to both of you individually, but this way is better. I’ll only have to say it once. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the two of you sleeping together last year—”

“Wait a minute,” Ethan started, but Clarise put up her hand.

“Let me finish,” she said, and the two of them exchanged odd glances.

“Okay,” Babette said. “Go ahead, we’re listening.”

Clarise wished Babette’s linking of herself with Ethan in that statement didn’t sting so much, but even so, she’d tell them the truth. “Babette, you probably didn’t even realize that I felt, you know, that way about Ethan.”

“I didn’t,” Babette verified.

Clarise swallowed, nodded. Man, this was tough. “And Ethan, you and I were merely friends, so naturally, you could have been with Babette, or anyone else, at that time if you wanted.”

“Clarise, we—”

“Please, Ethan, let me go on. This is hard enough as it is.”

He resignedly nodded.

“But I’ve got to tell you that these past few days were more to me than a chance to check items off my sex list.”

“You have a sex list?” Babette interjected. “Get out!”

“Babette,” Clarise warned.

“Sorry,” Babette said, grinning.

Grinning!
Clarise’s mind reverted to their childhood days, when the two girls had heated disagreements and dang nearly pulled each other’s hair out by the roots. Literally. Then she also recalled how quickly after those fights that they would hug and make up and go back to normal, like they would do today, when all of this craziness subsided. And when Ethan Eubanks was out of her life for good.

“Stop smiling,” Clarise cautioned her sister. “I can still get a good grip on your hair if need be, whether it’s short and black, or long and red.”

Babette’s dark eyes popped open, and she smiled more broadly. “Yes, ma’am.”

Clarise glared. Babette’s smile disappeared.

“Clarise, I love you.” Ethan’s statement caused her heart to still in her chest. She’d planned this out so well, what she would say, what she would do, how she would feel. And Ethan pronouncing his love in the middle of it hadn’t been factored in. At all.

“What?” she asked.

“I love you. I was planning to tell you Tuesday morning in bed over breakfast, but I’m not going to miss another opportunity to let you know. I love you. With all of my heart, I swear I do.”

“Awwww,” Babette crooned, which earned her another glare from Clarise. “Well, it’s sweet,” she defended.

“Ethan,” Clarise said, her insides quivering from emotion. He loved her? Really, truly loved her? But how could she forget . . .

“Yes,” he said, stepping closer and consequently, making her thighs clench in anticipation. Have mercy.

“I love you too,” she admitted, and watched his face transform into a brilliant smile. “But,” she quickly added, “I can’t have a relationship with someone who slept with my sister. I know both of you were perfectly free to do
that
together, but I won’t be able to be with you without thinking about it. I know I won’t. And I, well, I’m not willing to have a relationship like that.” Her lip quivered, throat clenched, eyes began to water.

“He saw me naked,” Babette said, while Ethan’s mouth fell open.

“I really don’t want details,” Clarise said, and she meant it.

“No,” Babette continued. “He saw me naked—and he didn’t care.”

Clarise blinked. “What do you mean?”

“It was a misunderstanding,” Ethan said, but Babette shook her head.

“No, Ethan, it wasn’t, and it’s about time I owned up to what I did. I swear, though, I didn’t know you had a thing for him, or I’d never have tried to get him to sleep with me. As it was, though, he wasn’t interested. Jake saw me leave Ethan’s room, but it wasn’t because he slept with me. It was because he kicked me out.”

“I wouldn’t put it like that,” Ethan said. “As I recall, I suggested you’d enjoy yourself more in your own room.”

“And I hated him for that,” Babette said. “It was the first, and only, refusal I’ve ever received. It rather hurt.” She let her lower lip pucker, but got no sympathy from Clarise, or Ethan.

“You didn’t sleep together?” Clarise asked, baffled.

“I went to his room in a fur coat and nothing else,” Babette said, as though this was a regular run-of-the-mill occurrence in her daily life. “Dropped that baby to the floor and stood there in all my glory, and he asked me to leave. Trust me, it wasn’t one of the finer moments in my life.”

Clarise looked at Ethan. Ethan looked at Clarise and moved even closer. Close enough to kiss.

“I’m going to go check out the new sound system the boys installed in my car,” Babette said, turning and clicking away, while a couple of male college students whistled from the parking lot. Babette tossed her hair, then called back, “I bet they wouldn’t send me away.” She then sashayed toward her car, her hips swaying as though the sidewalk was a Paris runway, and she was the star attraction.

“You turned her down?” Clarise asked.

“Doesn’t look as though it hurt her confidence any,” he said, while Babette whistled back at her new admirers.

“No, it doesn’t,” Clarise agreed. “But it may very well help mine.”

Ethan smiled easily. “How’s that?”

“Why did you turn her down?”

“She wasn’t the Robinson sister I wanted,” he said.

“Uh-uh. You and I were no more than friends then, and you know it,” Clarise said, moving toward him and placing a finger against his chest. She felt the strong, steady thud of his heart, and her breathing quickened.