"My high school boyfriends used to call it the make-out rug."
"Were they speaking from experience or are these the same guys you were meeting in the bathroom?" Tony eyes seemed to brighten as he watched the corners of Kim's lip turn up in a smile.
"These would be the bathroom guys," she said.
He grinned as he turned back toward the portrait over the mantle. "Is that you?"
Kim shut the closet door and picked up the bouquet. "Me when I was five. And my mother and fathe
r."
Tony stepped down into the living room and walked in front of the portrait for a better look. "Your mother was beautiful."
"Yes. Yes, she was."
"And look at you," he said, admiring the portrait. "You've always been beautiful, haven't you?"
Kim rolled her eyes. "Thanks."
"You are, you know."
For some reason, Kim always responded to flattery as though she was still an adolescent. And this time was no different. "Are you hungry?" she asked, changing the subject,
"Is that dinner I smell?" he responded, surprised and pleased.
Kim nodded. "Since you were running late, I thought we'd just eat here. I hope you don't mind."
"Mind? I love it! So you can cook, too," he said teasingly.
"As a matter of fact," she replied, "we're having my specialty," she said, heading to the kitchen to find a vase for her flowers.
After they had eaten and put the dishes in the dishwasher, Kim gave Tony a tour of the downstairs.
"You have a pool back there?"
Kim nodded. "My father does. Yes."
"You should take the cover off. It would make a great rink."
"Oh, sure," she said and laughed, certain that he was joking. "Right"
"No, I'm serious."
"I'll mention it to my dad. I'm sure he'll get right on it. I can just envision him doing a few pirouettes in the middle there."
Tony laughed. "Your father needs to start exercising. He's thin, but he's in terrible condition."
"So tell him."
"Harkavey's already told him," he said. "Your father can be very stubborn—a trait he's passed on to someone else I know." He smiled. Holding on to his glass of wine, he stepped into the den and pointed to a canvas that sat on the easel "Is that yours?"
She nodded.
"Can I take a look?"
"Sure," she said. "It's almost finished." She turned on the light and nodded toward the painting. "It's a Christmas present. For my father."
He moved closer to the painting, visibly affected by the stunning impact of colors and shapes. A rich deep purple now twisted around the strong red lines. Clouds of a light, ethereal yellow lifted out of the dark green background. "It's wonderrul"