Hot & Bothered. Kate Hoffmann

how he was quite…confident with the ladies.”

      “Enough!” Libby shouted. She hurried to the window and grabbed the lace curtain from Sarah’s fingers, dragging it back into place over the kitchen window. The very last thing Libby needed rattling around her head was talk about Trey Marbury’s sexual prowess. She’d experienced that firsthand.

      Her friend arched her eyebrow at Libby. “You’re blushing. Why, after all these years, does Trey Marbury still have the power to get you all hot and bothered?”

      “I’m not hot,” Libby muttered. “Just bothered. And you know exactly why.”

      “Because he had the high nerve to move in next door to you? You and the Throckmorton sisters have been complaining about the falling-down condition of that house for three years now. You should be happy someone has moved in and started fixing it up.”

      “You know that’s not why I’m bothered,” Libby said.

      Sarah’s eyes rolled up and she groaned. “Oh, please, must we talk about that silly feud again? It’s over. His daddy’s passed on, your daddy’s moved to Palm Beach and the rest of us in this sleepy little town have all but forgotten why the feud ever started in the first place.”

      “I’m not talking about the feud.” Libby paused. “I can’t believe you don’t remember. It was only the most humiliating experience in my young life.”

      “Oh, the kiss heard ‘round the world.” Sarah grinned. “The kiss that changed your life. The kiss that—”

      “I am holding a rolling pin,” Libby warned. “And in my experienced hands, it could be considered a lethal weapon.”

      “You threw yourself at him and he couldn’t resist your charms. Then he left town, never to be heard from again.”

      “And then, I was stupid enough to write him a letter and profess my adoration for him. Not just a few pages of ‘Hi, how are you?’, but a ten-page dissertation on my feelings. I actually thought we were the modern-day equivalent of Romeo and Juliet.” Libby moaned. “Oh, God, I quoted Shakespeare and Elizabeth Barrett Browning.”

      “You never told me about the letter,” Sarah said.

      “He never wrote back. And he never came back to Belfort. I hear he spent his vacations working construction in Atlanta. He was probably too terrified to set foot in the town where I was living.”

      “It was just a kiss. A high school kiss. How good could it have been?”

      Libby felt her cheeks warm. She’d been carrying the secret around for so long. Maybe it was time to tell Sarah. “It was more than a kiss. I lost my virginity to Trey Marbury that night.”

      Sarah gasped. “What? You and Trey Marbury—wait a second. How come you never told me this?”

      “I wanted to. But after it happened I needed to think about it for a while. And then, when he didn’t write back, I was embarrassed. I never was very confident with the boys and that certainly didn’t help.”

      “And now you blame Trey Marbury for your lack of a social life?”

      “No,” Libby said. “I blame my busy career and living in a small town and the lack of eligible men in Belfort.”

      “Your career? Honey, you’re every man’s wet dream. You’re beautiful, you make a lot of money and you cook. All that’s missing is a short career as a stripper.”

      “Oh, right. Just the other day I saw a bunch of handsome single guys hanging out watching Julia Child. They were all saying how she was really hot and they wished they could see her naked.” She slowly shook her head and sighed. “Sometimes I wonder how I ended up with this life. Why didn’t I ever get out of this town? I’m living in my parents’ old house, I spend my days stirring and slicing and sautéing. My idea of an exciting evening is writing grocery lists and reading old cookbooks. When did I turn into my mother?”

      “Why didn’t you get out of town?” Sarah asked.

      Libby shrugged. “This is going to sound pathetic but I guess I always hoped he’d come back someday. At least that’s what kept me here during college. And now, I have this house and I feel safe here.” She sighed. “Maybe I should move. I could buy a place in Charleston and get out of Belfort for good.”

      Sarah watched Libby from across the kitchen, her expression filled with concern. “Or maybe you ought to just face him and put the past in the past. Bake some cookies, wander over into his yard and reintroduce yourself to your new neighbor.” Sarah crossed the kitchen and grabbed Libby’s hand, dragging her to the window. “Look at that,” she ordered. “If you still want that man, you’d better make a move, because every other single woman in town is eyeing him up. Including me.”

      Suddenly, Libby didn’t care about her biscuit recipe. She pushed the curtain aside and searched the yard for the subject of their discussion. “Why did he have to buy the house next door? It’s like he just wanted to get under my skin.”

      “He probably doesn’t even remember you live here,” Sarah said.

      “Believe me, he knows I live here. And I think that’s why he bought the house. I—” Suddenly, Trey Marbury came back into view and her words died in her throat. Libby held her breath as she watched him walk the length of the side lawn. Sweat glistened on his bare chest and his finely muscled arms strained against the push mower. As he passed, her gaze didn’t waver. His dark hair clung damply to the nape of his neck and Libby’s eyes dropped lower, to the small of his back, revealed by the low-riding shorts. Sarah had been right. If his shorts dropped any lower, she’d enjoy a full appreciation of his backside.

      He turned and started back in the opposite direction, Libby’s gaze now taking in a deeply tanned torso, marked by paler skin above the waist of his shorts and a line of hair that ran from his belly to beneath the faded fabric. She lingered over the view for a moment longer, then realized she’d forgotten to breathe. “He’s changed,” she murmured.

      “It’s been twelve years,” Sarah said as she began to gather up her papers from the table. “We’ve all changed.”

      Libby looked over her shoulder with a rueful expression. “I guess we have.” But Trey Marbury had become a man in those years, a man who seemed to exude power and strength, even in the simple act of mowing his lawn. Libby swallowed hard, memories of their night together flooding her brain.

      A girl’s first experience was supposed to be awkward and painful. But that wasn’t how Libby remembered it. He’d been so gentle and sweet to her, taking her places she’d never been before. Libby couldn’t help but wonder what twelve years had done to his abilities in the bedroom.

      “I wonder why he came back,” Libby murmured.

      “He’s not really back,” Sarah replied. “Wanda Van Pelt sold him the house and she says that he’s taking care of his daddy’s business concerns in the area and just renovating the house as an investment. He’s been living in Chicago and has some big career up there.” Sarah turned away from the window and wandered over to the recipes they had spread across the table, finally resigned to getting back to the job at hand.

      “He probably doesn’t even remember the letter you sent him,” Sarah murmured. “And you could use a few more male prospects besides Carlisle Whitby, Bobby Ray Talbert and Wiley Boone.”

      “Carlisle is my mailman,” Libby said. “And Bobby Ray is our police chief. And I barely know Wiley Boone.”

      “He’s the city building inspector and Flora down at the drugstore says that Wiley was inquiring about you the other day. I think he plans to ask you out. And Carlisle always gives you the extra coupon flyers and he hangs around on your porch after he delivers your mail, just hoping you’ll come outside. And Bobby Ray asks you out every New Year’s Eve and every Fourth of July, regular as clockwork. So which would you prefer—one of those three besotted fools or Trey Marbury?” She raised her eyebrow.