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Authors: Deborah Smith
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but I need to talk to Viv upstairs," Jake answered. Vivian swung around and looked at him in dull surprise. "Will you get your things and come upstairs a minute?" he asked.
"Sure."
Once inside his apartment, he pointed her toward the living room. "How about a shot of Jack Daniels?"
"I'll take it," she mumbled, as he switched on an old floor lamp with a fringed shade. His living room looked like a museum for 1940's furniture. The couch and chairs were upholstered in a quaint, fading flower print. The coffee table was heavy and ornate, scarred with moisture rings and little nicks. A massive roll top desk dominated one wall, and plain, unpainted bookshelves covered another. The shelves were filled with horticulture and veterinary books. A white-brick fireplace angled across one corner of the room.
"What do you want with your bourbon, Viv?"
"What are you having?"
"I drink my bourbon straight."
"Well ... so do I."
Jake, who had knelt in front of the fireplace to arrange fresh wood, twisted around to stare at her. He chuckled ruefully, goaded a steady little kindling fire under the logs, and went to the kitchen shaking his head. A minute later, he came back with a bottle and two shot glasses full of bourbon, which he set on the coffee table. He handed her a glass and sat down a comfortable distance from her on the couch. He held his glass aloft, and she followed suit. 73
Just a little Bit Guilty
by Deborah Smith
"Here's to closin' spaces," Jake said softly. Vivian hesitated, then clinked her glass with his. Jake tossed the amber liquid down in one swallow, grimaced slightly, and set his glass on the table. "Sometimes that's the best way to drink it," he began, "but you'd better sip—" She gulped her drink. Her face perfectly composed, she thumped her glass down.
"Viv! I'm a lot bigger than you are. You can't match me drink for drink."
"Try me."
He poured them both another shot. Vivian held her glass up. "An apology," she said quietly. "I've been a pain. You're a good guy."
"Why, thank you, darlin'," he answered in a distracted voice, watching as she swallowed her second shot of bourbon. He drank his, and it sprinted warmly through his veins. Jake blinked several times, rapidly. She looked at him with her head tilted to one side and a cocky expression on her face. Jake decided that his pride was at stake. "Is this a challenge?" he asked jauntily, his eyes tight on hers. In answer, one corner of her mouth crooked up, and she poured them another drink. They clicked the glasses together a little harder than before.
"Here's to finding out which one of us is the boss in this twosome," she told him with narrowed eyes.
"Ah-hah. I see where this is headin'." They sat there a minute, just staring at each other, then polished off another round. This time they set down their 74
Just a little Bit Guilty
by Deborah Smith
glasses in unison. Hers rattled as she let go it, and his eyes flew to her unsteady hand.
"You lose," he said huskily. "Enough of this."
"No!" She grabbed the Jack Daniels. With just as much stubbornness, he took the bottle away from her, capped it, and stood up. "Let's call it a draw." He turned on his heel, walked toward the kitchen slowly, his back straight and almost made it all the way out the double doors before he bumped into one of them.
"I win," she called.
"No way," he called back. "I meant to hit that door." When he returned, she had gone to stand in the deep shadows by a window. He saw her slumped shoulders and lowered head, and his heart twisted. He crossed the dimly lit room and took her arm.
"Would you come on over here and sit down?" he asked gently. "I've got things to say to you." With a grim look, she sidled over to the couch. She settled on one end of the flowery cushions and stared morosely into space.
He sat down within arm's reach.
"Look here, Viv, I want to tell you somethin'. But first, can I..." He nodded at her hands.
"Give me a manicure?" she supplied drily.
"Hold your
"Sure."
Once inside his apartment, he pointed her toward the living room. "How about a shot of Jack Daniels?"
"I'll take it," she mumbled, as he switched on an old floor lamp with a fringed shade. His living room looked like a museum for 1940's furniture. The couch and chairs were upholstered in a quaint, fading flower print. The coffee table was heavy and ornate, scarred with moisture rings and little nicks. A massive roll top desk dominated one wall, and plain, unpainted bookshelves covered another. The shelves were filled with horticulture and veterinary books. A white-brick fireplace angled across one corner of the room.
"What do you want with your bourbon, Viv?"
"What are you having?"
"I drink my bourbon straight."
"Well ... so do I."
Jake, who had knelt in front of the fireplace to arrange fresh wood, twisted around to stare at her. He chuckled ruefully, goaded a steady little kindling fire under the logs, and went to the kitchen shaking his head. A minute later, he came back with a bottle and two shot glasses full of bourbon, which he set on the coffee table. He handed her a glass and sat down a comfortable distance from her on the couch. He held his glass aloft, and she followed suit. 73
Just a little Bit Guilty
by Deborah Smith
"Here's to closin' spaces," Jake said softly. Vivian hesitated, then clinked her glass with his. Jake tossed the amber liquid down in one swallow, grimaced slightly, and set his glass on the table. "Sometimes that's the best way to drink it," he began, "but you'd better sip—" She gulped her drink. Her face perfectly composed, she thumped her glass down.
"Viv! I'm a lot bigger than you are. You can't match me drink for drink."
"Try me."
He poured them both another shot. Vivian held her glass up. "An apology," she said quietly. "I've been a pain. You're a good guy."
"Why, thank you, darlin'," he answered in a distracted voice, watching as she swallowed her second shot of bourbon. He drank his, and it sprinted warmly through his veins. Jake blinked several times, rapidly. She looked at him with her head tilted to one side and a cocky expression on her face. Jake decided that his pride was at stake. "Is this a challenge?" he asked jauntily, his eyes tight on hers. In answer, one corner of her mouth crooked up, and she poured them another drink. They clicked the glasses together a little harder than before.
"Here's to finding out which one of us is the boss in this twosome," she told him with narrowed eyes.
"Ah-hah. I see where this is headin'." They sat there a minute, just staring at each other, then polished off another round. This time they set down their 74
Just a little Bit Guilty
by Deborah Smith
glasses in unison. Hers rattled as she let go it, and his eyes flew to her unsteady hand.
"You lose," he said huskily. "Enough of this."
"No!" She grabbed the Jack Daniels. With just as much stubbornness, he took the bottle away from her, capped it, and stood up. "Let's call it a draw." He turned on his heel, walked toward the kitchen slowly, his back straight and almost made it all the way out the double doors before he bumped into one of them.
"I win," she called.
"No way," he called back. "I meant to hit that door." When he returned, she had gone to stand in the deep shadows by a window. He saw her slumped shoulders and lowered head, and his heart twisted. He crossed the dimly lit room and took her arm.
"Would you come on over here and sit down?" he asked gently. "I've got things to say to you." With a grim look, she sidled over to the couch. She settled on one end of the flowery cushions and stared morosely into space.
He sat down within arm's reach.
"Look here, Viv, I want to tell you somethin'. But first, can I..." He nodded at her hands.
"Give me a manicure?" she supplied drily.
"Hold your
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