My Man Pendleton(81)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

Even feeling the way she did, there was no way she could deny him. Feebly, she started to lift her hand, and Pendleton reached out to meet her more than halfway. He curled his fingers around hers capably, possessively, lovingly. Then he pushed himself to his feet and pulled Kit up with him.

Although his eyes never left hers, he called over his shoulder, “Yo, Dad!”

Axel looked up, clearly surprised by the summons. “Yeah?”

“How’re those ribs coming?”

His father glanced down briefly, then back up again. “Just about done.”

Pendleton nodded and continued to look at Kit, but his words were still clearly intended for his father. “How long has it been since you and Mom had dinner with the Robys next door?”

“’Bout a week. Why?”

“Why don’t you and mom and Carny treat Mr. and Mrs. Roby to a nice rib dinner tonight?”

Axel smiled knowingly. “You know, Sonny, I was just thinkin’ that exact same thing. You remember how much Denise Roby likes her ribs.”

Pendleton nodded. “Yeah, I remember.”

“And Dick Roby, well…foggiddabbuddit.”

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Think you could collect Mom and Carny and get lost for a couple hours?”

“Sure thing, Rocky. Just gimme five minutes.”

Chapter 19

They were five minutes that Kit and Pendleton spent standing at the foot of the back porch, staring at each other. As each one of those minutes passed, all he could think was that he’d never seen her looking more beautiful, more lovable. Why Kit couldn’t envision herself the same way, Pendleton couldn’t imagine. But somehow, some way, he’d make her understand exactly what kind of woman she was. And what he had up his sleeve right now—literally—was going to go a long way toward proving to her just how important she was to him.

Only after the other Pendletons waved goodbye and closed the gate behind them did Kit finally break the silence. “I can’t believe your family does what you ask them to do. You have them trained so well.”

He shrugged. “They only want what’s best for me.”

She eyed him thoughtfully. “And what would be best for you, Pendleton?”

Hey, that was an easy one. “You.”

Kit started to shake her head, but he tugged on her arm and led her toward the back door. “Come on,” he repeated.

“Why?” she asked. “What is it you need to show me?”

“Just come on,” he said again, weaving his fingers snugly with hers. “You’ll see.”

He thought she was going to balk, but after only a small hesitation, she swept the hand that wasn’t holding his forward, indicating he should precede her through the back door. Her footsteps dragging only a little bit, she followed him into the house. Through the kitchen. Through the dining room. Down the hall.

Pendleton didn’t stop moving forward until he reached his old bedroom, which his parents had changed not one bit since he moved out of it to go to college. The walls were still decorated with faded blue race car wallpaper, and the twin bed was still covered with a red chenille bedspread. The windowsill played host to a half-dozen models of World War II tanks, the bookcases were overflowing with Hardy Boys mysteries and back issues of Road and Track, and his desk was virtually obscured by an elaborate HO setup.

He’d always loved this room. And having Kit here with him now fulfilled an adolescent dream of his he never thought would be reality. He closed the door behind them, so that fantasy wouldn’t be disturbed.

“Sit down,” he told her as he released her hand. She watched him warily for a moment, then began to make her way to the chair by his desk.

“Not there,” he said. “On the bed.”

She whipped around to face him. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

He held up his hands, chest high, palms out, in a gesture of surrender. “I have no intention of taking advantage of you,” he told her. Then, after a meaningful pause, he qualified, “Until you tell me to.”

She lifted her chin defiantly. “That’s not going to happen.”

He smiled indulgently. “We’ll see. Sit.”

Miraculously, she did as he asked without further argument, perching on the side of his bed near the foot. But instead of sitting still, she lifted the bedspread and reached between the mattress and box springs, feeling around as if searching for something.

“Oh, by the way,” she said, “my first night here, while I was searching your room, I found something that belongs to you.”

“You searched my room?” he asked, wondering why he was surprised. “You violated my boyhood domain?”

She kept feeling around beneath the mattress, but met his gaze with an expression that clearly stated, Well, duh. “Ah-ha,” she said before Pendleton could comment. Her hand ceased its movement, then, with one swift gesture, she withdrew a battered, dog-eared glossy magazine, turned to the middle of it, and unfolded the na**d woman dwelling within.

“In addition to eighty-seven cents in change and a fossilized Milky Way that was stuck behind one of your bookcases, I found this.”

Pendleton smiled wistfully. “Miss January 1989.”

She arched her eyebrows in surprise. “You remember?”

“Oh, you bet.”

“This is your idea of the perfect woman, I suppose.”

He shook his head. “Nah. That was my idea of the perfect woman when I was thirteen. I was an idiot then.”

“I see.”

“But until you came along, she was the only woman I ever brought to this bed.”

Kit quickly refolded the centerfold and stuffed the magazine back under the mattress. “I don’t want to know.”

“Aw, come on. Sure you do. Because you’re about to take Miss January’s place. In my bed. In my heart. In my life.”

“In your dreams.”

“Yeah, there too.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but said nothing more. So Pendleton reached behind himself with one hand and bunched his sweatshirt in his fist, pausing only long enough to make his intentions perfectly clear. Evidently, he succeeded, because Kit’s eyes widened to the size of silver dollars.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

He hesitated, but didn’t release his shirt, making it obvious he intended to snatch the garment over his head. Still, just in case she didn’t understand, he told her, “I’m taking my shirt off.”