Leanne Banks - Hot Stuff

“It’s hard to tell for sure from here, but it looks to me like the house two doors down also has a red door,” Cate softly called to Kellen.

Kellen silently moved from the stoop to Cate’s side and looked down the street. “I guess red is a popular color for doors.”

Kellen had no luck with the second door he tried, but the lock tumbled on the door to the third house. The third red door belonged to one of the smaller houses on the block. The house was in deep shadow, receiving little light from the gaslight-type streetlight at the curb, and only scattered moonlight filtered through the shade tree in the minuscule front yard.

“Okay, so we know this is the house,” Cate said. “Now what?”

“Now we hope he isn’t home,” Kellen said. And he put his finger on the doorbell and pushed. “He doesn’t know me. If he answers the door I can pretend to be drunk and lost. I suggest you hide in the bushes.”

Cate scooted close to the building, crouched behind an azalea, and held her breath.

Kellen rang the bell again. And again.

“Nobody home,” Kellen said. He opened the door and stepped inside, motioning Cate to follow.

Cate scrambled out of the bush and into the house. She stood in the dark foyer and listened to something beeping. “What’s that?” Cate asked.

“Alarm,” Kellen said, taking her hand. “It’s ready to go off. Don’t get scared. It’s going to be noisy.”

The alarm started to wail, and Kellen wrapped his arms around Cate and held her close. He had his mouth to her ear.

“I can feel your heart racing,” he said.

“The police are going to come in and take us to jail.”

“Probably not. They’ll try the front and back doors and find them locked. They’ll shine their flashlights in the windows and see that everything is okay and that there are no signs of forced entry. And they’ll leave. The alarm company will alert someone, most likely Marty, but it’ll be a while before he’ll arrive to check things out. If ever. We’ll be gone by then.”

“You’ve done this before.”

“Nothing I’d admit to.

Somewhere in the house a phone was ringing.

“That’s the alarm company,” Kellen said. “When no one answers they’ll send the police.” He opened the coat closet door and pushed Cate in. “Stay here and keep the door closed until I come for you. I can go through the house faster if I’m alone.”

There were two coats hanging in the closet, and Cate recognized Marty’s cologne on them. This was his house, and they’d broken into it. Okay, so they had a key, but they’d sort of stolen the key. She slipped behind the coats and tried to stay calm. Her heart was still banging in her chest. I’m not cut out for this, she thought. I never wanted to be James Bond. I always wanted to be Mr. Rogers. The phone was no longer ringing, but the alarm continued to wail. It was pitch-black in the closet. Too dark for Cate to read the dial on her watch. And then the alarm stopped and the silence was crushing.

Cate took shallow breaths and listened. She could hear someone try the front door. Her heart was stuck in her throat. She was going to throw up and faint, she thought. And when she regained consciousness she was never going to talk to Kellen again. What the heck was he thinking? Normal people just didn’t do this stuff. This was burglar stuff. This was crazy.

The door rattling stopped and Cate stayed statue still. She felt her pulse normalize a little, and she slumped against the closet wall and waited. And then without warning the alarm came back on. She heard footsteps on the stairs, the closet door was yanked open, and Kellen reached in for her.

“We’re leaving,” Kellen said. “We’re going to use the kitchen door. It’ll let us out into the alley behind the house.”

“It’s totally black in here. How can you see?”

“Penlight,” Kellen said, flicking his hand.

Cate looked down and saw the point of light on the floor. She was so scared she hadn’t picked it up on her own.

Kellen tugged her down the center hall, quickly moving her through the house. They were in the kitchen, out the kitchen door, crossing a small enclosed patio, out the patio door, and standing in a one-lane, very dark alley that ran behind all the houses. They were two houses from Gloucester Street. Cate could see the streetlight at the end of the alley. Kellen still had her hand, pulling her along. He broke into a run. They were in sneakers, and they made almost no noise as they ran for Gloucester. They crossed the street at Gloucester and headed for Prudential Center and, beyond that, the South End.

They’d just reached Boylston when Cate saw the police cruiser. It was moving toward them fast, lights flashing, no siren. Kellen stepped into the shadow of a doorway and pulled Cate hard against him. He kissed her, and the cruiser slowed but didn’t stop as it rolled past. Not the world’s most romantic kiss, both of them with eyes wide open, watching the cruiser.

“I’d like to stay and do a better job of kissing you,” Kellen said, “but we need to keep moving.”

“What happened back there?”

Kellen silently cursed himself for not being more careful and endangering Cate. “The alarm reset itself, and I tripped the motion sensors. It would have been nice to have a little more time, but I found out what I needed to know.”

They were walking down Boylston, holding hands and talking, looking like a couple on their way home from a late date. They turned at Dartmouth and walked toward Columbus and Tremont, and Cate finally began to relax.

“Marty has been using the house,” Kellen said, “but I think it’s a stopover, as opposed to a second home. I didn’t see any expensive artwork, and the furniture doesn’t reflect Marty’s taste. He has some clothes there, but not a lot. Bare essentials in the bathroom. No condoms that I could see, so I’m guessing he doesn’t use the house for fun. It didn’t seem like he shared it with anyone. Nothing in the refrigerator. There was a wall safe upstairs, but it was open and empty. He had a suitcase on the bed. It was partially unpacked. I think Marty was snatched, and so far hasn’t been returned.”

“Snatched by Kitty Bergman?”

“That’s my best guess. And I bet when I check the tax records I find Bergman owns that townhouse.”

“I don’t get it. I don’t understand any of this. What on earth is Kitty Bergman’s involvement? She’s rich, and she’s a social powerhouse. I knew she and Marty were friends, but I thought they just shopped for dresses together.”

“Maybe charity is boring.”

“Do you think we should try to rescue Marty?”

“I’m not in rescue. I’m in retrieval. Marty’s on his own… at least for tonight.”

Kellen was hands on hips in an oversized gray T-shirt and navy boxers. The boxers looked new and had little green-and-yellow palm trees on them. “What the heck are you wearing?” he asked Cate. “You look like you’re ready for Alaska.”

They were standing beside Cate’s bed, and Cate was wearing socks and sweatpants and a hooded sweatshirt. The twenty-first-century equivalent to a chastity belt.

“This is what I wear to bed,” Cate said. In January. And when I’m sleeping with a man I’m not ready to sleep with.

Kellen grinned. “You can run, but you can’t hide.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kellen slipped under the covers. “It means you can avoid a relationship with me for a while but eventually I’m going to win.”

Kellen didn’t want to alarm Cate, but after an evening of breaking and entering, dinner with her family, and a morning picnic where he watched her feed her giant dog breakfast sandwiches, Kellen was having thoughts of happily ever after. Yes, sir, Kellen thought, he wasn’t just going for the sheet time. He wanted the whole enchilada. Kellen was thinking marriage. How weird was that?

The air-conditioning was on, but Cate was starting to sweat. And it wasn’t sweat from passion. Cate was sweating from fleece.

“Tell me again why you have to sleep in my bed.”

“I tried sleeping on the leather couch but it was too slippery. I kept sliding off. And we agreed that I shouldn’t sleep in Marty’s room again because if he figured it out he wouldn’t think we were a couple. And the truth is, that’s all a lot of bullshit. I’m in your bed because I want to be in your bed.”

“Whatever,” Cate said, “but you’re on my side. Could you at least move over?”

“I can’t move over. Your dog is sleeping there.”

Beast was stretched out with his head on the pillow, sound asleep. Cate tried to roll him to the edge, and he opened an eye and growled.

“He didn’t mean that in a threatening way,” Cate said.

“Uh-huh.”

“Beast,” Cate said in his ear. “Wake up. You have to move over.”

Beast half opened his eyes.

“Poor baby is sleepy,” Cate said.

“I’m sleepy too,” Kellen said. “I wish you would get into bed.”

“Okay, fine, perfect!” Cate said. And she climbed over Kellen and wedged herself in between him and Beast.

“Comfy?” Kellen asked.

“Yes. And you?”

“Yep.” And he turned the light off.

Truth was, Cate wasn’t comfy. Cate was roasting. Sweat was rolling down the side of her face. She tried to move to find some cool sheet but there was no open space.

“Now what?” Kellen said.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re thrashing around like a fish out of water.”

“I’m trapped in here. I can’t breathe.”

Kellen turned the light on and looked at her. “You can’t breathe because you’re in this stupid sweat suit. What have you got under it?”

“Tank top and underwear.” Actually the underwear was a pink lace thong, but she thought it best not to share that information with Kellen.

“This is ridiculous. You look like you’re going to have heat stroke,” Kellen said. He grabbed the sweatshirt by the bottom ribbing and in two seconds it was over Cate’s head and lying on the floor. “Better?” he asked.

“Yes, but…”

“Now get rid of the socks and the sweatpants.”

“No way!”

“Do I have to wrestle you out of them?”

“Good grief,” Cate said, shucking the sweatpants and socks. “How did I get myself into this dilemma?”

“For starters, you chose the wrong roommate.”

“He seemed like such a nice guy.”

“Just because he steals jewelry doesn’t mean he isn’t a nice guy.”

Cate settled in between Kellen and Beast, Kellen turned the light off for the second time, and everyone lay motionless and rigid for two minutes. Finally Kellen blew out a sigh.

“This bed is too small,” he said. “Now you’ve got everything pressed against me.”

“And?”

“And you’re all smooth and silky and warm and soft. And I’m really uncomfortable.”

“It wasn’t my idea to sleep in the same bed. And it wasn’t my idea to remove the sweat suit.”

“Okay, how about this. How about if we get engaged.”

“Engaged? Are you insane? I hardly know you.”

“Honey, in a couple minutes you’re going to know me pretty well.”

“Have you ever been married?” Cate asked.

“No.”

“Do you have any children?”

“No.”

“Diseases?”

“No. And I’ve got all my teeth. I don’t have a criminal record. And my cholesterol is perfect.”

“All good things to know,” Cate said. “How do you stand on the flat tax?”

“Oh hell,” Kellen said, turning to Cate, draping his leg over hers, and wrapping her in his arms.

“And what about birth control?” she asked him.

“I’ve got it covered,” Kellen said.

Cate slid her hand down Kellen’s flat stomach, her thumb dipping into the waistband of his boxers, and a nervous giggle escaped from her lips. It seemed like a lot to cover.

Kellen moved against her, and his hands found their way under her T-shirt, skimming over places that were soft and sensitive, his mouth following close behind his fingertips. He slid his hand under the little pink satin thong, sliding it down Cate’s legs, over her perfect feet, and onto the floor at the end of the bed.

Beast’s head shot up and within half a second he was on the floor, pink thong in mouth.

All romantic activity stopped dead, and Cate sat up and gaped at Beast, frozen in horror. There was a little strap of elastic band hanging out from his lips like dental floss.

Kellen pointed at Beast. “Drop it!”

Gulp. Gone.

“He ate my underwear! My favorite thong. What do we do now? He might choke. Do you know the Heimlich maneuver? Should we take him to a vet? Does the Angell Memorial Hospital send ambulances?”

“Don’t worry. He’ll be fine. I sympathize with the favorite thong part, but that scrap of fabric you call underwear was hardly enough to choke a hundred-twenty-pound dog. It was barely a snack.”