Chapter Two
Blood poured from George’s nose. Anna grabbed a dishcloth and handed it to him. “Maybe it isn’t broken.”
Clark half hoped it was. The son of bitch surely had it coming. Even though he hadn’t been in a real fight since he’d clocked Billy West on the playground in fourth grade, he couldn’t stand by and let that bullshit continue. In the heat of the moment, a punch had seemed like the logical way to stop it.
“Oh,” George moaned.
“I hope to hell it’s not broken. It’s the last thing I need,” Anna murmured, half under her breath. She ran her hands through her hair then tugged at one tangled curl. “The only superhero in the universe who makes things worse ends up in my kitchen. Figures.” Anna looked at Clark. “Why did you have to hit him?”
“You should ask him that.” He pointed to the man on the floor.
She narrowed her eyes. “It’s none of your business. I hired you for a birthday party. Not to vanquish villains.”
Redhawk shrugged. “He shouldn’t have crossed the line.”
“I hope the kids didn’t hear any of that.” Anna bit her lower lip. “Our relationship is complicated.”
“It’s not complicated. At all. He had no right to talk to you that way. Period.”
“Is anyone going to help me?” George, nearly forgotten in the corner of the kitchen, asked, his voice muffled through the blood-soaked dishrag.
“I appreciate you sticking up for me, but it’s just that—”
“Will you shut up and help me? Damn. I’m bleeding,” he snapped.
Taylor walked into the kitchen. “What in the fresh hell?” She surveyed the damage and looked at Anna. “Why is the jackass on the floor?” She pointed to George.
“I hit him, and he fell,” Clark said.
Taylor looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “You what? That’s not like my brother at all. This Redhawk thing may be what you’ve needed to break out of your shell. Anna’s needed someone to punch that bastard for a long time.”
“Brother?” Anna asked. Her eyes went wide with shock. “But I thought—”
Their eyes met, and a sizzle of attraction pulsed between them.
It had been so long since he’d felt it, he’d forgotten how nice it was. He wasn’t going to get used to it, though.
Instead of answering the question, Taylor laughed. And laughed. Until tears ran down her cheeks.
Damn it. This favor was quickly moving into the disaster category.
“The kids are demanding to see a superhero. I don’t know what happened here, but I need a Redhawk stat.” Taylor wiped a tear from her eye and immediately started giggling again. “This is not how I envisioned this would turn out.” The door swung closed behind her, leaving Clark and Anna alone, except for George, who was still on the floor moaning.
“I never imagined we’d meet this way,” Clark said.
“Never rescued a damsel in distress before?” Anna smiled, and he realized how beautiful she was.
He shook his head. “Maybe it’s the costume.”
“I can’t believe a man named Clark dressed in spandex just clocked my ex-husband.”
“And just when I thought there was no more irony in the world.”
He wasn’t usually a superhero. As a thirty-year-old architect, he was more comfortable in jeans and a polo than metallic spandex, but when Taylor had told him that the man Anna had hired had bailed, he couldn’t refuse.
He remembered the year his dad had blown his birthday all too well. He’d promised Clark a weekend in Atlanta. They were going to watch the Braves play the Mets, eat at The Varsity, and swim in the hotel pool. Clark had spent the weeks leading up to the big day staring at the tickets. He could still remember the heavy cardstock and the silvery hologram stickers in the top corner. On the morning of his birthday, he woke up to find only the housekeeper downstairs. His parents had decided to go to the beach for the weekend instead.
He’d burned his Braves T-shirt and cap in the fire pit on the back patio.
Clark still had the unused tickets in the back of a dresser drawer. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to toss them into the fire that consumed had his shirt. He’d passionately hated the Braves ever since.
Dressing up and playing Redhawk was the least he could do. Even if the superhero Speedo was likely to give him a diaper rash.
The mom standing in front of him made it even more worthwhile.
Petite, standing only five two or five three, her hair was so black her loose curls shone blue in the sunlight streaming through the bright-green spring leaves. She wore a short denim skirt that showed off her shapely legs. He tried not to wonder what color panties she was wearing.
Her white shirt clung to the delicious curves of her body, and the deep V of the neck showed off the tops of her breasts.
Finally, something tight I can appreciate. Later. When I’m not in spandex.
Her eyes were a deep blue, the same color as ripe blueberries, and she smelled spicy, like cinnamon.
Even though he wasn’t looking for long term, never would be, he could certainly imagine himself spending a night or two with her.
Taylor talked about Anna all the time and had tried to set the two of them up on a date several times. He’d had no idea she looked like this or he would have jumped at the offer.
This was one mom he’d like to—
Too late now. I don’t deserve a second glance from someone like her.
“I need a crash course on Redhawk,” he said. “I’m afraid I’m one of the few people who didn’t see the movie.”
Her face fell. “But you read the comic books, right?”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
Anna chewed on her bottom lip. “Fights for right. Stands up for those without a voice,” she stammered.
“I figured that much. What makes him different?”
“He’s a genius who can fly. He can see not only what we see, but also things in the ultraviolet spectrum. He was changed into Redhawk when he was a teenager. After he left the scene of his parents’ tragic death s, he got lost in a swamp and was saved by an actual black hawk. His archenemy is the Blot. He has a secret tattoo. It’s never been revealed.”
“Where’s the tattoo?”
“No one knows for sure, but in the movie, he hints it’s on the inside of his wrist. It’s just one of the many mysterious things about him,”
“What’s the image?”
“It’s not an image. At least, the movie leaves you believing it’s a date.”
“What does it signify?” he asked.
“Either the date of his parents’ deaths or the date he became Redhawk. But like I said, no one knows for sure. And since he became Redhawk the day after his—”
He pulled back one of his sleeves and turned over his wrist and interrupted her rambling. “Will this work?”
Her eyes went wide. “Is that a real tattoo?”
“Of course it is.”
She shook her head. “There’s no way. It’s just not possible.”
“Why? Lots of people have real tattoos.”
“It’s eerily similar to the one the real Redhawk has. Are you some kind of obsessed fan?”
“Never read a single comic book.”
“It’s perfect. Too perfect” She ran her index finger across the ink and an electric sizzle ran up the length of his arm. “The kids will love it.”
“I’ll focus on it, then.” He tugged his sleeve back down and his gaze met hers. “Anything else?”
She chewed on her bottom lip and he tried to ignore the building attraction. “The main thing is his voice. It’s deep, gravelly. Think Johnny Depp with extra bad boy.”
He cleared his throat and lowered his voice an octave. “Like this?”
With the way she was looking up at him, the bad boy part was going to come easily. They were only inches apart. He watched the rise and fall of her breasts with every breath. She smelled like warm vanilla mixed with cinnamon. Sexy and sweet. It wasn’t easy to resist the urge to reach out and touch her cheek. He wanted to brush a stray curl back from her face and see what his touch did to the rhythm of her breath.
She nodded. “You’re more convincing that the real Redhawk.” Her voice had a flirty edge to it and he liked it.
Don’t start anything. It would only be leading her on.
“Take the gift. It’s supposed to be from you. I’ll take care of him.” Anna picked up a small box and pressed it into his hand. Wrapped in bright red and tied with a black bow, it matched the colors of his costume perfectly. Even through his black gloves, he felt the warmth of the woman’s tiny hand. He noticed her skin looked rough and cracked, but her fingers were beautifully shaped.
“What’s your son’s name?”
“Louie.”
“Don’t worry about the kids. Redhawk is ready.” He held up the gift and winked at her on his way out of the kitchen.