Until There Was You(47)

And maybe…maybe he did like her. Oh, crap, she sounded like she was fifteen again. Not good. Not good at all.

“Okay, your hair’s…well, it’s fine. It’s good.” Jon stood back and looked at her hair, frowning. “You don’t have any hair glue, do you?”

“I don’t even know what that is,” she said. “And what happened to not trying too hard?”

“What are you wearing?” he asked. Henry checked his messages.

“Just jeans and a sweater,” Posey said.

“Which jeans? Which sweater? We are doing makeup, aren’t we? Come, child, look up. By all that’s holy, how old is this eye shadow?”

“Old,” Posey admitted. “Bush administration.”

“Herbert Walker, or just Walker? Well, if it’s bad, you’ll be the first to know. Blink.”

“Don’t make me look like a child prostitute, okay?”

“You sure?” Jon said, rolling his eyes. “Honey, please. Don’t forget who dressed up as Kate Moss for Halloween and looked like her twin.”

“Damn, I missed a shattered elbow,” Henry muttered, staring at his iPhone. “I love shattered elbows.” He glanced up. “So, Jon and I are thinking about adopting a baby,” he said, and Posey bolted out of her chair.

“Guys!” she said. “That’s great! Oh, my gosh, I’m gonna be an aunt! At last!”

“You sound just like Mom,” Henry said, grinning. “Well, we’ve just started looking around at different agencies and stuff. But we’re ready. Right, Jon?”

“Totally ready,” he said. “Sit back down, Posey. So, yeah, we’re thinking it doesn’t have to be newborn, right? But let me ask you, because Henry here doesn’t have normal feelings…do you ever feel adopted?”

“I am adopted,” she said.

“Right. But…I don’t know. Do you wonder about your birth parents?” he asked.

“I don’t,” Henry said.

“I know you don’t. I’ve been married to you for ten years. Do you, Posey?”

“Yeah, I think about them,” she said. “Sometimes I see someone who might look like me, and I wonder if it’s a long-lost cousin or something. I wish I knew the circumstances, you know? Henry at least knows that.”

“The tragic orphan, yes.”

“Right. So it would’ve been nice to know why my birth mother chose adoption. But otherwise, no. Max and Stacia are my parents.”

“Are you done interrogating my sister?” Henry asked. “There’s a call for an amputation, and I’d really hate to miss it.”

Jon sighed. “Another night alone with a gourmet dinner and Dexter on DVD.”

“Sounds like heaven to me,” Posey said.

“Nonsense. You’ll have so much fun on this date.” He kissed her cheek and attempted one last time to flatten the cowlick on the back of her head. “Call me later, I’ll be up. And dog, don’t even look at me. Do you know how much these pants cost?”

“And take down that bell, Pose,” Henry added as they left. “It’s gonna kill you someday.”

The bell was, in fact, Posey’s prized possession. But she wasn’t sure it wouldn’t fall off, no matter what she told her family, all of whom viewed her house as riddled with opportunities to die. Still, the clock had lasted for more than a hundred years. Chances were it would last a little longer.

The makeup was starting to sting. Guess that three-month warning meant something after all. She went upstairs and washed it off, then took a long look in the mirror.

She would never be fat, that was true. Her roomy 32-A had become a 32-B somewhere in her twenties, and she was grateful. She wasn’t unattractive, though she wished her hair would behave a little better. She kept it short, because it tended to curl when it grew, making her head look huge and giving her an overall lollipop appearance. But on a scale of one to ten, she was—maybe—a six, six and a half.

Gretchen was a ten.

Liam was a forty-nine.

Why had he asked her out? No one dated anymore, did they? They filled out computer forms, met and either moved on or got married. And Liam Murphy…he just didn’t seem the type to date. He seemed like the type to press a woman against a wall, kiss the bejesus out of her and shag her into the middle of next week, though. Uh-huh. Oh, yeah.

At that very moment, the doorbell rang, and Posey jumped.

The doorbell was the only thing that seemed to hit her dog’s protective instincts, and he barreled down the stairs, baying his hollow, echoing bark, then hurled himself against the door like a narcotics agent on a bust.

“Shilo! Down! Down, boy! Easy!”

Shilo took this as an invitation to jump against her, which caused Posey to stagger. “Down!” She managed to wrestle her dog off her, adjusted her shirt, and opened the door.

There he was, Hottie McSin. The details didn’t matter—in fact, her vision was already blurry with lust—but the overall picture said Do me. Shilo seemed to agree, flopping on his back, paws stretching over his head. “Hi,” Liam said, and she practically came on the spot. There was a wall right there, for heaven’s sake. Just in case he wanted to push her up against it and—

Shilo whined, his tail whacking against her foot. Aware that she should greet her guest, Posey opened her mouth. “Yes. Hello.” Her voice was husky, and she was positive he could read her mind. She swallowed hard. “Want to come in?”