I snorted with the way he spit out the word like it was a disease. I didn't owe him any explanations, but I did owe it to him to tell him the truth. I'd been tiptoeing around Martin for months now. When I'd first met him, he was kind to me, even though I'd just been dumped on my wedding day.Again.
The second time, he was also kind and a little confused about my sudden raging desire to fix my home. The third time he saw me, I was completely totaled on my couch and...he was still kind. But annoyed. As he should have been. He'd overlooked my craziness, moved his schedule for me twice, gave me advice, kept quiet sometimes, too, appreciated my food, took a werewolf down by barely batting an eye. Plus he made salad without complaining aboutit.
Kristoff was kind, handsome and funny, but his kiss lacked passion or honestly, any enthusiasm. He was like a smore to a campfire.Comfort.
But I wanted something more than comfort. I wanted to feel totally confused and like I was coming out of my skin withsomeone.
Like I did withMartin.
Kristoff adjusted his unnecessary glasses and shook his head again. "Is there anything I can say to change yourmind?"
I offered him a soft smile. "I'm sorry,Kristoff."
With a nod and a deep sigh, he stood. "Very well, then." He held his arms out and I walked into them. He rested his chin on my head. "Punch the lucky bastard in the liver for me, wouldyou?"
I laughed against his chest. "No."
"Figures." He dropped a kiss on the top of my head, grabbed his bag, and left the house, only pausing to wavegoodbye.
I shut the door, and leaned against it, wondering what the hell I was going todo.
Twenty minutes later, the idea hit me like abrick.
I was going to give Martin a taste of his ownmedicine.
24
It was obscenely earlythe next morning when I got up and carefully dressed. I wore a pair of loose fitting jogger pants and a crop top which exposed my tan abs which still looked pretty good, but had somewhat atrophied over the last few months. Still, not too shabby. I prided myself more on muscles than slimness, but my stomach had gone from a six pack to more like a four pack. I brushed my hair until it shone like black silk, then put it into a messy braid. I stepped out from my bedroom barefoot, padded into the living room and turned on the DVD I hadn't used since before mywedding.
And then I waited for Martin to showup.
As soon as I heard the key enter the door, I began the slow, seductive movements everyone in my family knew like the back of their hand. Hip bump right, right, left. Hip bump left, left, right. I turned only to see Martin standing a few feet away slackjawed.
I timed the beat of my hips to the music and belly danced for him, never breaking eye contact. My hair began to slip out of its braid as moisture began to form on myforehead.
Belly dancing was not easy, especially if you had neglected your form forawhile.
After a couple of moments, Martin came back to himself. "What are you doing?" he askedhoarsely.
I gave him a slow grin. "Dancing. It's greatexercise."
"This early in themorning?"
"It's the best time. Before breakfast, before the day really begins." I didn't stop for a second and I noted the struggle Martin was having keeping his eyes on myface.
"Do you want to join in?" I asked, keeping my expressioninnocent.
He made a strangled noise. "No." He briskly walked to the back of the house, but I saw him loose a shudderingbreath.
A wide grin stretched my face as I finished up theDVD.
An hour later,I'd stepped out of the shower and again chose my clothes carefully. A strappy red sundress minus the cardigan exposed my bare shoulders and decolletage. I let my hair dry naturally and knew when it dried it would form soft curls around my face. I added a double layer of mascara and slid on a pair of jeweled sandals. When I stepped out, Martin was waiting for me in the kitchen. I saw his chest hitch when he sawme.
"What are you doing,Katie?"
"Nothing." I brushed past him to get a mug, but he stepped behind me, looming over me. My heart began to beat rapidly at hisproximity.
He lifted my damp hair from the back of my neck. "Are yousure?"
