~ Dangerous Curves ~

by

Jina Bacarr

She craned her neck, daring herself to take a peek at him. It was more than a peek. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Holt Astin was sitting at her table, his open-collar, white silk shirt setting off his rugged features, a hint of his Apache heritage sculpting his high cheekbones, straight nose, and his proud chin. He was wearing a gray, pin-striped suit, she noticed, but no amount of expensive Beverly Hills tailoring could hide his broad shoulders.

"I’ll cook up his order for you, Kasey," Sylvia offered, butting into her thoughts and looking at her grimly. She’s waiting to see if I’m going to fall apart, Kasey thought.

"No, Sylvia, I’ll take care of him," Kasey answered in a suggestive tone that promised more than scrambled eggs was on the menu. She shrugged her shoulders, pulled in her stomach, and wiped the perspiration off her face. "Refill his coffee, Juanita, and tell him his order is coming right up," she said, grabbing two fresh eggs from the frig, then sliding her fingers over their cold, smooth shells.

"Sì, Señora Kasey," the young Mexican girl answered, grabbing the steaming coffee pot off the burner.

"What are you going to do, Kasey?" Sylvia asked, her eyes teeming with questions at the sight of the raw eggs.

"The man wants fresh eggs," Kasey said easily, smiling. "And fresh eggs he’s going to get."

She was surprised when Sylvia winked at her with a twinkle in her eye. Kasey smiled back. Obviously the diner owner approved of whatever scheme was hatching in her brain. Sylvia knew all too well the story of how Holt Astin had charmed young Kasey Mitchell into his bed, than abandoned her when she wrote to tell him she was pregnant.

Kasey blew out a big breath. Now he was going to pay.

Biting her lower lip, she pulled down her uniform, tugging at the little, white scalloped collar Sylvia insisted gave her a cute, perky look. Kasey pulled it off and stuffed the collar into her pocket. It was choking her pride as well as her neck.

For all her good intentions, though, her feet were glued to the floor. What was stopping her? Was she scared about what would happen when Holt recognized her? Then what would she say to him? Good to see you again, Holt. Why haven’t you written to me for ten years?

She had to get up her courage. Kasey kicked up the gritty, wooden specks on the sawdust floor and scraped her toe on a nearby table leg, as if she were challenging Holt to say something to her. It was a natural action for her. She was a born fighter. Hadn’t she always been strong? She’d had to be strong when her folks died during her first year in college, when Holt left town suddenly, when Logan was born and she found herself a single parent.

Kasey decided to be strong now, pushing aside the deep embarrassment she felt, knowing she wasn’t the tall, thin kid she was ten years ago when she said good-bye to Holt in the shadow of the Apache sacred site near the Black Hill Mine. That wasn’t what was bothering her. She was comfortable with who she was, proud of her size. She lacked what Allie called style, and that bugged her.

She wished she had paid more attention to her appearance. Her waist-long brown hair was desert blonde now, clipped to her shoulders, her darkened roots emphasized by the pins pushing her hair away from her face. She felt her tortoise shell glasses sliding down the shiny film of perspiration on her nose. She didn’t wear glasses back then. She wore them now to help her tired eyes, though her eye doctor insisted she didn’t need them.

I’ve got to face him, she thought, sucking in her pride and raising up her bustline. Or I’ll always regret it.

Forcing a smile with great effort, she walked over to Holt and took a deep breath.

"Angelo’s off today, so I’ll be cooking up your order--" she said slowly, carefully saying the words, biting back the urge to say his name just to hear the sound of it again. Why was she feeling like this? She hated him.

"Thanks, Miss. And don’t forget the extra, extra onions," Holt answered, glancing up at her from the papers spread out in front of him. He smiled at her in a friendly manner and Kasey almost backed down. No, she decided, his charm wasn’t going to work on her this time. She stared at him a moment longer, daring him to say something. He didn’t. Then it hit her.

He doesn’t recognize me.

Kasey took a step back. That bothered her more than if he had put out his hand for her to shake it. Her feminine ego had been bruised, she realized, hidden under her out-of-fashion uniform, but very much alive and kicking. That only made her more determined to go through with her scheme to make him pay for what he had done to her. And to Logan.

"We aim to please at the Denmore Diner," Kasey said, feeling the cool, hard eggshells in her hand, the heat of her palm warming them up to just the right temperature. She should turn away and head for the kitchen, but instead she continued to stare at him, which was easy for her to do. It scared her to think that she might weaken. Wouldn’t. Not on her life, she wouldn’t. And the sight of his handsome face and muscular bare chest outlined under his white silk shirt wasn’t going to tempt her. No way. She pushed aside the memories of the days when they sat in the back booth of the diner, munching on French fries and double chocolate shakes. Pushed them to the back of her mind for keeps this time, she vowed.

"I’m sorry I missed seeing Angelo," Holt said, skimming through what she perceived to be a mess of legal documents. "Where is he?"

Damn, she thought, did he have to be so friendly?

"Why don’t you ask me where I’ve been, Holt?" Kasey said, not answering his question. "It’s been a long time since we were kids together."

Kasey felt her fingers tighten around the warming eggs, but not tight enough to crush them. Not yet. She was beginning to feel her courage coming back. Shaky, lopsided courage, but courage nonetheless.

"Do I know you?" Holt said, his mouth curling up in that lazy-S smile of his she loved so much, a warmth flooding his rich voice she hadn’t detected before this moment. Oh, he was horrible, doing this to her. Acting as if he didn’t know who she was. Kasey wouldn’t back down.

The words came fast in her mind and even quicker off her tongue. "I’ve waited a long time for this day, Holt Astin, when I could tell you what I thought of you. Tell you how I cried myself to sleep every night, how I never gave up hope that you would write to me but you didn’t--"

Holt looked up at her and all those lonely nights were shoved to the back of her brain. Something was wrong, she thought. He didn’t look repentant or even smug. He was looking at her, but he wasn’t seeing her. She knew that by the distant look in his gray eyes.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," he said, staring at her, confusion clouding his eyes.

"Your order’s up," she said quickly, too quickly, going through with her crazy scheme whether she wanted to or not. "And it’s my pleasure to serve it to you."

Kasey slid her fingers over the cold, raw eggs, exerting just enough pressure to crack the shells before raising her arm up high, then with as much ceremony as she could muster, she dumped the runny, yellow yolks into his lap. Stuttering, mumbling, sniffling like a kid, she said, "Bon appétit, Mr. Astin."