Free Be My Baby Tonight by Kasey Michaels Page B

couldn’t get through
those doors.
    He fished in his pocket for the key, then
opened one of the doors, waved Suzanna in ahead of him, then waited
for her reaction.
    He liked his house, really liked it. Liked
all the dark wood, the dark colors on the walls. Those things Keely
had called “accent sconces” that were on the walls. The place might
be almost new, but it looked as if it had been here forever.
    “Keely decorated the place, top to bottom,”
he told Suzanna as he pointed toward the rear of the house and the
kitchen. “She’s really good.”
    Suzanna nodded, and kept on walking. “It
suits you, Tim. Like a great big cozy den for Tim the Tiger.” She
stopped halfway down the hall. “Oh, wow, is that a real tapestry,
or a reproduction?”
    Tim looked at the wall hanging that stood at
least eight feet high in the two-story foyer and fifteen feet wide.
It was one of his favorite things in the whole house, and it
pleased him that Suzanna had noticed it. “Keely got it from some
place in New York. An auction house.”
    “Sotheby’s?” Suzanna asked, her eyes wide as
she looked at him. “You’re kidding.”
    “No, I think that’s the place. I saw it in a
catalog she had at the house, and told her I wanted it. All those
great faces, all those people. The castle in the distance? I don’t
know. I just liked it.”
    “This from the man who had posters of Vanna
White on his ceiling,” Suzanna said, shaking her head. “And the
poster of that guy with the green tongue.”
    “You remember that? That was during my
professional wrestling fan phase. What were we? Ten, twelve years
old? What was that guy’s name again? Oh, yeah. George ‘the Animal’
Steele. Hairy shoulders, green tongue and all. Remember the time
Jack and I took you and Jan Overly to the Allentown Fairgrounds to
see the wrestlers?”
    Suzanna shuddered. “I remember sitting in the
first row, wondering how flat I’d be if that Andre the Giant guy
fell out of the ring and landed on me.”
    Tim laughed, putting an arm around Suzanna’s
shoulders. “So that’s why you and Jan spent most of the night in
the ladies’ room?”
    “You got it. It’s also why I practically fell
on your dad’s neck in thanks when he showed up to drive us all home
again,” she said, smiling with him. “Hey, we’re wasting time.
Where’s the kitchen?”
    “Back through here,” he told her, guiding
her, “but don’t look. Keely really outdoes herself with kitchens,
and if you’re anything like any other woman who’s seen this
place—meaning Aunt Sadie and Mrs. Butterworth—you’ll start ooh ing and ahh ing, and Sam will have a breakdown
waiting for me.”
    “Um, Tim?” Suzanna said as they walked
through the huge kitchen—complete with fireplace—and out the back
door. “Remember what a great cook my mom was?”
    “Buttermilk pancakes with blueberries?
Chocolate cake that was so moist it was almost black? Sunday
afternoon and roast beef, mashed potatoes, and gravy? Oh, yeah,
Suze, I remember.”
    “Well, hold that thought, Tim. Because I
can’t cook.” Tim stopped on the wide brick patio and stared at her.
“Your mom never taught you?”
    “Nope,” she said, shaking her head. “I have
all her recipes, packed away somewhere, but I’ve never tried any of
them. I... I eat out. Or microwave stuff.”
    Tim rubbed a hand over his chin. “Do you want to know how to cook? Because Keely’s a great cook, and
if she had your mom’s recipes, she could, you know, teach you?”
    One thing about Suzanna Trent, now Suzanna
Trehan, that Tim remembered well. When she got mad, you knew
it.
    He knew it now.
    It was simple, really. When they had been
little, she’d punch him in the gut. When she got older, grew out of
that punching business, she’d just tell him to go to hell.
    She said it now: “Go to hell, Jack.”
    “Knew it,” he said, tagging after her as she
walked toward the large three-car garage, still carrying Margo.
    They were doing all