About That Kiss

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“What have you been up to all day?” Diana asked, addressing Nick as soon as he and Joy stepped into the parlor that evening.

“I’ve been running a newspaper.” Nick winked at Joy. “Trying to, anyway. I might have done better if your sister hadn’t forced me to eat anchovies at lunch.”

Joy’s smile was forced. She’d been happily keyed up since they’d had lunch together, but now that he was about to tell Diana that he’d finally settled down, Joy’s spirits flattened right out.

“A newspaper?” Diana questioned, confused.

“The East End Journal,“ Nick responded, giving a glance to the fourth party in the room. There was a young man standing on a stepladder closing a paint can. Nick didn’t think Joy was picking up on it, but the painter was giving her a thorough once-over. Every fiber of Nick’s body went on alert.

“Formerly the Greenport News,” Joy said.

“I don’t get it,” Diana said, as the painter got down from the ladder.

“Hey, Joy,” he said, flashing her a look—a look that Nick was clearly reading as predatory. He wasn’t liking this one bit!

“Hey, yourself, Eddie,” Joy said while Nick watched her smile at the painter. To Nick that smile seemed to have come to her easier than the smile she’d given him moments ago.

“I still don’t get it,” Diana said again.

“I haven’t seen you dress this way for a day at the slave den before,” Eddie said, giving Joy a provokingly sexy grin, then a low whistle.

Nick ground his teeth almost to the point of needing emergency dental treatment.

“Yeah…well,” was Joy’s lackadaisical response while she tried not comparing herself to Diana. Even in humdrum textured slacks and a plain white shirt rolled to her elbows, Diana was a knockout. Joy wouldn’t have traded Diana for any other sister in the entire world. But the three inches of height Diana had over her was aggravating Joy right now. Couldn’t Diana have at least one shortcoming?

Forcing her thoughts away from her sister, Joy asked Eddie. “How’s the rock and roll business?”

“Happening, babe. Happening.”

Nick watched “Mr. Happening” drop his eyes to briefly explore, for a second time, the fit of Joy’s turtleneck top across her pert breasts.

Joy finally turned to Nick. “Oh, Nick…this is Eddie DeMarco. Painter by day. Rock and roll singer by night. Eddie, this is Nick Tremain. My new boss and Kevin’s brother.”

“Your new boss?” Diana asked, still bewildered.

Eddie raised a paint-covered palm toward Nick’s face. “I’d shake hands with you, but—”

“No problem.” Nick ground out a casual smile, taking adversarial note of Eddie DeMarco’s cocky physical characteristics. What did Joy know of Eddie DeMarco’s nights? Did she go for guys with ponytails?

“Will someone please answer me?” Diana looked from Nick to Joy, then back to Nick.

Just then Emily Mackey pushed open the door from the kitchen. “Dinner is ready. Hurry up. All of you. There’s nothing worse than a lukewarm roast. Eddie, haven’t you changed and washed up yet?”

“I’m going right now, ‘Mom,’” Eddie bantered.

“I’m just going to change my clothes,” Joy said.

“Need any help?” Eddie teased Joy as Mrs. Mackey stepped back into the kitchen.