Kissing Cousins Page 11

  “Swaggart,” Whitney began.

  “See you later, Whitney,” Swaggart said. “Poppy will be right behind you.”

  Poppy didn’t look at Swaggart, but she did lean over, looking around him to Whitney.

  Whitney shrugged, helplessly shaking her head.

  “Whitney?” Poppy pleaded.

  “Good night, Whit,” Swaggart said. “Let me talk to her for just a minute, okay?”

  Again, Whitney shrugged.

  Poppy gasped as her friend started to leave. “Whitney Dexter!” Poppy exclaimed. She tried to struggle free, but Swaggart’s powerful hands now gripped her arms just above her elbows.

  Poppy’s eyes widened as Whitney smiled at her then, gestured a check mark in the air, and mouthed, “Check it off!”

  “What?” Poppy mouthed.

  As Whitney turned and started for the back door to the restaurant, Poppy called, “Whitney! Whitney Dexter, you come back here this minute!” But she didn’t, and in the next moment, Poppy was alone with Swaggart Moretti.

  Poppy felt the color drain from her face. Humiliation rose in her like a painful sickness. He’d seen it! Swaggart had seen her Dreams to Do list. He knew—Swaggart Moretti now knew Poppy Amore’s one unfulfilled dream had been to kiss him!

  “Why didn’t you tell me, Poppy?” he asked. She could feel his gaze boring into the top of her head like a hot branding iron. “All you had to do was ask.”

  Entirely stunned by the remark, Poppy finally dared to look up at him.

  “What?” she breathed. Swaggart was a flirt and a tease, but he was never cruel. She was surprised he would mock her about it.

  “I’m serious,” he said. He wasn’t smiling. In fact, he appeared to be speaking the truth. “Why didn’t you just ask me?” he asked. “I would’ve been more than willing. I mean, apparently you talked your parents into driving all the way to Astoria, Oregon, just to see The Goonies house—but you never found a way to ask me to kiss you?”

  Poppy didn’t answer, only silently cursed the tears begging to spill from her eyes. She began to tremble, her body now unable to flee because of pure, realized defeat.

  “So ask me now,” Swaggart said. His voice was deep, lowered, coaxing.

  “What?” Poppy asked, still unable to believe what was happening was actually happening.

  Swaggart smiled, shrugged his shoulders, and said, “We can check it off that list right now. What do you say?”

  Poppy had never in her life known the kind of hurt filling her bosom at that moment. How could he be so cruel? As the first tear escaped one eye, she began to struggle again. She had to escape him—had to run away and drown in humiliation.

  “Hey, hey, hey,” he said. He lightly squeezed her arms, but she couldn’t face him. How could she ever face him again? “Come on, Poppy,” he said.

  “I don’t feel like being made fun of,” she said, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “It’s been a long day, and I’m tired, and I don’t want—”

  “But I’m not making fun of you,” he said. “I’m offering to help you check that last thing off your list.”

  Poppy swallowed hard as he continued.

  “Come on, Poppy—don’t be mad at me,” he said. “It’s nothing to be upset about. It was like…seven years ago. I know you were a kid. Come on—don’t be mad at me. Besides, you owed me a secret—remember?”

  “I’m not mad at you,” Poppy said, wishing he would release her. His touch was too unsettling to her senses. In truth, she wanted nothing more than to throw herself against him and beg him to go ahead and fulfill her ridiculous, adolescent Dreams to Do list. “It’s just embarrassing, that’s all,” she said, fighting back more tears of humiliation.

  “No, it’s not,” he said. “It’s cool. I’m flattered. I think my self-esteem just improved a little.”

  Poppy rolled her eyes. Yet, if there was one thing the incredibly attractive Swaggart Moretti did need for some reason, it was better self-esteem. She’d never quite been able to figure why his was so low, but it was.

  “Come on, Poppy,” he said again. “Don’t be mad at me—and don’t be mad at Grandpa.” She still couldn’t look him square in the eye, but she did glance up to see him smiling at her—the warm brown of his eyes sparkling with delight and the pure mischief she so adored in him.

  “Whitney had the worst crush on my cousin Greg at that same time,” Poppy said, suddenly babbling as if a random explanation of Whitney’s list items would somehow lessen her own embarrassment.

  “Greg was cool,” Swaggart said still smiling. “I could’ve hooked her up.”

  Poppy grinned. He hadn’t meant to be cruel—she understood that now. “Greg’s moving back here to help my dad with his business,” she said. Maybe if she made enough trivial small talk, he’d forget the incident ever happened. Maybe if she made enough trivial small talk, she would forget it ever had.

  But she was not to be so lucky.

  “So,” Swaggart began, “I’m the only thing left to do on your list, huh?”

  Poppy smiled, unnerved by his touch, for he still held her arms. “Well, I was a freshman when I wrote it down. And I was crazy…kiss Swaggart Moretti? It was a tall order,” she said, shaking her head and trying to dispel the goose bumps suddenly breaking over her arms at the knowledge he still held her.

  “Nah,” he said. “I’m not that tall.” Poppy felt her smile broaden for a moment at his wit. She was beginning to relax just a little. After all, this was Swaggart! She’d known him for years—worked with him for two. They were friends. Surely he wouldn’t tease her for much longer.

  Poppy’s smile faded at once, however, when he said, “But I think I’m tall enough to still fill that short order.”

  “What?” Poppy breathed. It almost sounded as if he were implying he would truly be willing to…

  “Only…I think the number one thing on that old list of yours was actually make out with Swaggart Moretti,” he said. “Not just kiss him.”

  “Well…I-I…I changed it,” Poppy stammered. It seemed her humiliation was to be of the mortally wounding nature after all.

  “I noticed that,” he said. “Why did your cross out ‘make out’ and leave it just ‘kiss’?” he asked.

  “I-I knew it was an impossible thing all the way around, and I thought…I thought if I lessened the expectation, a little my chances might be better. You know—statistically,” she explained.

  Swaggart smiled—his eyes warm and somehow inviting. “Never minimize your dreams, Poppy,” he said. “Keep them where you want them.”

  “Okay,” Poppy said, trying once again to move out of his grasp. But again, Swaggart held fast and stayed her.

  “Seriously, though…wouldn’t you like to finally finish that list?” he asked. “You know, check off that last little item?”

  Poppy shook her head and laughed a breathy laugh as she looked up at him. “It’s okay, Swaggart,” she said. “I’m embarrassed, and I admit it. Will you just take pity on me and let it go?”

  “So…you don’t want to kiss me anymore, huh?” he asked.

  “Well, of course! I mean, no! I mean, yes! I mean…I mean…” she stammered. The very thought of kissing Swaggart was sending her thoughts into utter chaos. A vision of Mark Lawson flashed through her mind—she had a date with him on Saturday, didn’t she? She wasn’t sure—all she could comprehend in that moment was the splendor of Swaggart Moretti’s handsome face before her, the feel of being held captive by his powerful hands, the excess moisture flooding her mouth.

  “Well, I wanna do it,” he stated.

  “What?” Poppy breathed.

  “I wanna do it,” he repeated. His smile had faded, and she could tell—he was entirely serious.

  “Why?” she couldn’t help but ask. Even as her body began to quiver at the thought of finally, at long last, being kissed by Swaggart Moretti, she couldn’t fathom why he would be willing to do it. Pity—that could be the only answer. He felt bad for her—for discovering h
er humiliating secret regarding him. Sure, she owed him a secret, but the fact he preferred to cook hamburgers paled by miles in comparison.

  “Because once you thought I was cool enough to want me to,” he said.

  I still want you to, she thought.

  “Swaggart…you don’t have to say that. I know you’re just trying to—” Poppy began.

  She was interrupted, instantly rendered silent and breathless, as he took her face between his strong hands. Her gaze fell to his mouth, to the perfect shape of his lips. The moisture in her mouth increased a hundred times, and as her heart pounded like a hammer on an anvil, she hoped he wasn’t simply taunting and mocking her.

  “I want to check it off that list for you,” he mumbled.

  Poppy couldn’t say a word. It was a struggle to merely breathe! His face was so close to hers she could feel his breath on her lips.

  “It won’t change your life, Poppy,” he said, his voice low and rich like a warm drink laced with molasses. “And it probably won’t be the best kiss you’ll ever have,” he added.

  Her entire body erupted into goose bumps as his thumb traveled slowly over her lower lip.

  “But I’ll try to make it worth your time—worth having been on that list of yours.”

  “S-Swaggart,” she breathed as his head descended toward hers. Her entire body was tremulous—inside and out! Her mouth was literally watering in anticipation! In her entire life, she’d never wanted anything as desperately as she wanted to feel Swaggart Moretti’s lips pressed to hers in that very moment.

  She thought of Mark, of the kiss they’d shared only days before. Mark’s kiss had not affected her the way the mere anticipation of Swaggart’s was affecting her now! Furthermore, one date did not a steady boyfriend make—there was nothing disloyal about letting Swaggart check the number one thing off the ol’ Dreams to Do list. Right?

  “Only,” he began. His lips hovered a breath above her own. “Only I wanna go for the real deal.”

  “The real deal?” Poppy breathed, certain her knees would give way and find her in a dead faint on the floor at his feet.

  “I want the real item number one…I want the make-out version, Poppy,” he whispered. “Right here, right now.”

  “But…but we can’t. I mean…I mean…” she stammered, her arms and legs feeling as if they’d just turned to pudding.

  “Shhh,” he whispered.

  In the next moment, Poppy was certain she would faint, or at least burst into flames caused by blissful euphoria—for as Dean Martin began crooning “Innamorata” over the sound system, Swaggart Moretti kissed her! Instantly, she was his—without hesitation, without attempting any sort of resistance. She melted against him as he wrapped his powerful arms around her, pulling her against his rock-solid body.

  Administering several slow, sweet, and measured kisses, Swaggart then wasted no time with coyness. Instantaneous passion, immediate fiery fervor erupted between them. Poppy let her arms return his embrace, cared nothing for the fact his five o’clock shadow wore rough against the tender flesh around her mouth. As the warm moisture of Swaggart’s mouth worked to lead Poppy’s in the exchange, she was conscious that their mouths seemed to work together as if they’d been kissing this way their entire lives!

  And he was fabulous! The feel of being in his strong arms, the flavor of his mouth, his pure skill at administering such affection—kissing Swaggart Moretti was even more wonderful than Poppy had ever imagined! And heaven knew she’d spent a very long time imagining it!

  As Poppy grasped his shoulders, gathered the fabric of his t-shirt into her fists endeavoring to pull him closer, her mind whirled! It couldn’t be! Surely she wasn’t really standing in Good Ol’ Days, wrapped in Swaggart Moretti’s arms, kissing him the way she was—surely he wasn’t kissing her the way he was!

  Suddenly, he broke the seal of their lips, releasing her for a moment. As he stood, the tempo of his breathing increased, his eyes narrowed as he looked at her. Poppy grew self-conscious and glanced away for a moment.

  “Oh, don’t you get shy on me now,” he mumbled. His hands at her waist, and he pushed her back against the wall, trailing several moist, lingering kisses over her throat. Poppy’s breathing literally stopped for a moment—she could not believe the effect he was having on her—and so instantly!

  “S-Swaggart,” Poppy breathed.

  Her heart was hammering so hard it hurt! Her mouth was watering for want of his kiss again—it had to stop—she knew she shouldn’t kiss him anymore. What good could possibly come of it? But she was crazy for him! She’d been crazy for him for years and years! She quickly rationalized that if she allowed herself to drown in the pure wonder of finally kissing Swaggart Moretti, then maybe his face wouldn’t pop into her mind every time someone else kissed her good night. Maybe—if she continued to kiss him tonight—maybe it would finally purge her heart and soul of the long secreted crush, the tightly guarded infatuation she’d carried for so long. Maybe—if she continued to kiss him tonight—maybe her mind wouldn’t always answer Swaggart Moretti as the word-association response each time she heard the word love.

  Therefore, when he paused, looking down at her with his warm-syrup eyes and asking, “Are you done with me already?”

  Poppy heard herself answer, “No.”

  Swaggart smiled his dazzling smile, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction as he said, “Good—’cause I’m not finished with you either—and I just happen to have a few hours of free time on my hands just now.”

  “Hours?” Poppy asked, biting her lip as she looked at his mouth. “People don’t kiss for hours, Swaggart.”

  Swaggart chuckled—the low, resonate sound of it causing Poppy’s body to tremble with delight. “Don’t they?” he whispered a moment before the warmth of his mouth took hers once more.

  *

  And what magical hours they were! There, in the warm, inviting atmosphere of the Good Ol’ Days restaurant, Poppy lived a dream—kissing Swaggart Moretti for hour after hour! He kissed her near the front door, talked with her at table one for awhile, before pulling her into his lap and kissing her again. He led her to the kitchen for a glass of water—pushed her back against the order counter and kissed her more! They stood in the alcove talking for a long time, until Swaggart reached out, pulling her into his arms and further endeavoring to keep the butterflies afloat in her stomach.

  After a time, she became conscious of the way he caressed her before he kissed her—if he planned to kiss her cheek, he caressed it with the back of his hand first. If he planned to kiss her neck, he caressed the area with his fingertips before pressing his mouth to her skin. As for Poppy—she couldn’t seem to satisfy her need to feel the softness of his hair. Whenever he’d pull her body flush with his, wrap her tightly in his arms, she couldn’t resist letting her hands travel over his shoulders, to the back of his neck, and up through the dark softness of his hair.

  “You know,” he whispered as they stood in the kitchen two hours later, enjoying a bowl of ice cream. Two spoons and one bowl—Poppy thought the gesture sweetly romantic!

  “What?” she asked.

  “Poppy seeds really can contain or carry opium alkaloids,” Swaggart said.

  “Really? I thought that was just an urban legend,” Poppy said, taking a bite of ice cream.

  “Well, eating a poppy seed muffin probably won’t find you failing a drug test,” he said. “But ingest a ridiculous, unhealthy amount of the seeds, and you might be able to skew one.”

  “Really?” she asked.

  He shrugged his massive shoulders and said, “Or so a botanist once told me.”

  As Dean Martin began to sing “Innamorata” once more, Poppy frowned.

  “Hey, how come this song always plays twice during this loop?” she asked.

  “I think it’s programmed in there twice,” Swaggart answered. “I think Grandpa really likes it.”

  “So…is it a city in Italy?” Poppy asked.

  “What?” Swaggart
said as he finished the last bite of ice cream.

  “Amorata,” Poppy said. “You know, a city. He says something about their lips meeting in Amorata,” she explained as Dean sang.

  Swaggart chuckled. “It’s not ‘in Amorata.’ It’s ‘inamorata’—the word inamorata,” he said.

  “Oh,” Poppy said, smiling at her own ignorance. “I get it—it’s an Italian word.”

  “Yep,” he said, putting the bowl and spoons in the sink.

  “Do you know what it means?”

  “It means sweetheart,” he told her. “In other words…if our lips should meet, sweetheart,” he said.

  “Wow,” Poppy giggled. “All this time I thought it was a place.”

  Swaggart leaned against the sink and smiled at her.

  “Either way…it’s a good song.”

  “It is,” he agreed. “Even at two o’clock in the morning.”

  “Oh, my heck!” Poppy exclaimed. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Nope,” he said.

  “I’m so sorry, Swaggart,” she said, suddenly feeling ridiculous.

  “For what?” he asked, walking to her and letting his hands tighten around her waist.

  “For…for everything!” Poppy stammered. The humiliation she’d begun to feel when she’d realized Swaggart had seen her Dreams to Do list began to return. “For keeping you up so late, for one thing! I mean…I mean you were tired at six tonight, and here I’ve…”

  “Shhh,” he breathed, his head descending toward hers.

  “Swaggart,” she whispered. “You don’t have…you don’t have to…”

  “Baby, don’t go all bashful on me now,” he said, smiling at her.

  As he placed one hand against her cheek, Poppy reached up covering it with her own. She still couldn’t believe he was touching her, that he’d held her, kissed her.

  “I really am at heaven’s door,” he whispered in reference to the song Dean was singing. He kissed her lightly on the lips, and she was instantly at ease. He continued to whisper, sing the romantic song lyrics in unison with Dean a moment before he kissed her more firmly. All at once he gathered her into his arms, kissing her with such a passion’s fire she feared it might melt her bones.