her keyboard, and forced herself to concentrate.
At five she heard him leave the house. By seven "Making Out—How Far to Go?" was nearly done. Unfortunately, the subject had left her edgy and more than a little aroused. She called Janine, but her friend wasn't home, so she went down-stairs and stared at herself in the small kitchen mirror. It was too late for the stores to be open, or she could have run out for hair color. Maybe she'd just cut it. That crew cut a few years ago hadn't been so bad.
She was lying to herself. It had been horrible.
She grabbed a Lean Cuisine instead of the scissors and ate at the kitchen counter. Afterward she dug the marshmallows out of a carton of Rocky Road ice cream. Finally she grabbed her drawing pad and settled in front of the fireplace to sketch. But she hadn't slept well, and before long her lids grew heavy. Kevin's arrival sometime after midnight made her bolt up.
"Hey, Daphne."
She rubbed her eyes. "Hello, Karl."
He hung his coat on the back of a chair. It reeked of perfume. "This thing needs to air out."
"I'll say." Jealousy gnawed at her. While she'd been drooling over Kevin's body and obsessing about her own hangups, she'd ignored one important fact: He hadn't shown the slightest interest in her. "You must have been busy," she said. "It smells like more than one brand. All of them domestic, or did you find an au pair somewhere?"
"I wasn't that lucky. The women were unfortunately American, and they all talked too much." His pointed look said she did, too.
"And I'll bet lots of the words had more than one syllable, so you probably have a headache." She needed to stop this. He wasn't nearly as dumb as she wanted him to be, and if she didn't watch herself, he was going to figure out exactly how much interest she took in his personal life.
He looked more aggravated than angry. "I happen to like to relax when I'm on a date. I don't want to debate world politics or discuss global warming or be forced to listen to people with unpredictable personal hygiene recite bad poetry."
"Gee, and those are all my favorite things."
He shook his head, then rose and stretched, lengthening that lean body vertebra by vertebra. He was already bored with her. Probably because she hadn't entertained him by reciting his career statistics.
"I'd better turn in," he said. "I'm taking off first thing tomorrow, so if I don't see you, thanks for the hospitality."
She managed a yawn. " Ciao , babycakes." She knew he had to get back for practice, but that didn't ease her disappointment.
He smiled. "Night, Daphne."
She watched him mount the stairs, the denim tightening around those lean legs, molding his narrow hips, muscles rippling beneath his T-shirt.
Oh, God, she was drooling! And she was Phi Beta Kappa!
She was also aching and restless, blazingly dissatisfied with everything in her life.
"Damn it!" She knocked her sketch pad to the floor, jumped to her feet, and made a beeline for the bathroom to stare at her hair. She was going to shave it off!
No! She didn't want to be bald, and this time she wouldn't let herself act crazy.
She moved purposefully to the video center and pulled out the remake of The Parent Trap . Her inner child loved watching the twins get their parents back together, and her outer child loved Dennis Quaid's smile.
Kevin had that same crooked smile.
Resolutely, she took his game film from the VCR, put in The Parent Trap , and settled back to watch.
By two o'clock in the morning, Hallie and Annie had reunited their parents, but Molly was more restless than ever. She began surfing through old movies and infomercials, only to pause as she heard the familiar theme song of the old show, Lace, Inc .
"Lace is on the case, oh yeah… Lace can solve the case, oh yeah …" Two beautiful women ran across the screen, the sexy detectives Sable Drake and Ginger Hill.
Lace, Inc . had been one of Molly's favorite shows as a child. She'd wanted to be Sable, the smart brunette, played by