“Right, coach. Can’t interfere with their immortality fantasies.”
“Huh?” Coslick gave Russ a strange look. “Anyway, gotta go. Can’t keep the team waiting.”
Russ stood silently, an island of calm in an ocean of wild celebration as the coach turned and practically ran away from him.
Cynthia’s heart went out to Russ.
Once, he would have been at the center of that storm of action and excitement. Even after he’d graduated, he’d been the star, the hero. Both coaches and athletes had seen him as a mentor, a symbol of the best of the sport, the very best of Shermann.
Because of what he’d lost, he had become an outsider, just as she was a perpetual outsider in the town she loved.
The difference was, Russ was that way by accident. Once he got his feet back under him, he’d be the center again, around which the rest of the town would revolve like comets around the sun, basking in reflected glory. No wonder he was so desperate to recover his memories, to regain the golden-boy status he’d held like it was his due.
She pretended to look the other way, shooting photos of the cheerleader squad cutting down the nets in celebration of their first victory in years over the much larger and usually dominant St. Charles team.
“Cynthia. I need to talk to you.”
So much for that plan.
She turned to face him. “What could we possibly have to talk about?”
He looked like he’d been slapped. “Right. I’ve already apologized for my attack on you last night. If you want to file charges with the police, I certainly won’t fight it.”
File charges? For not continuing to kiss her? For stopping when she had been ready to open herself to him? She suspected that they would need to have a lot more female lawmakers before ignoring a girl with a crush would be ruled a crime.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I accept your apology. Now, if there isn’t anything else, I’ve got to get ready for the Cochran Fashion Show.”
“That’s what I need to talk to you about.”
Of course. Heather was smart enough to know that no woman would say no to Russ. She’d sent him to make sure her department store would get the coverage she wanted.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be there with bells on. You can run back to Heather and tell her not to worry about me.”
“You’re going? Oh. Are you one of the models?”
As if. “Of course not. I’m covering it for the Advertiser.”
He said something but the band started looping through the team fight song, each time louder and each time faster.
“Let’s go outside,” she shouted. “I can’t hear you.”
He nodded but she saw the flicker of doubt in his eyes. Did he think she was going to throw herself on him again?
“I’ve just got to—“
A trombone blasted in her ear and she winced.
“Oh, hell. Come on.” He took her arm and guided her out.
Without him, she would have had to fight her way through the crowd, but then she was used to being ignored. Nobody ignored Russ. A few people patted him on the back, spoke a quiet word to him, but most of them simply stepped out of his way.
“Guess it must have been a big game,” he said when they’d finally cleared the crowd and stood in the school parking lot.
“The biggest. We haven’t beaten St. Charles since you were on the team.”
He shook his head slowly. "It’s funny. I know high school is a big deal, even to people who graduated years before, but for me, that’s just knowledge. I have a hard time understanding it, or grasping the emotional content behind it. I mean, these are just kids. Who cares whether they win a game or not?”
“Come on, Russ, think about it. It’s no secret. High school is when your hormones run wild: when you get your first kiss, your first real boyfriend, your big date to the prom. High school is where you form your first semi-adult friendships. In a town like this, it’s also something that everyone shares. Even people who moved here from somewhere else go to the games and cheer for the Shermann Snakes.”
“Is that when you got your first kiss, Cynthia?”
“None of your—“
“Because my first kiss was last night. Maybe that’s why I’m so confused.”
“I’m glad I could take care of that little service for you. Now I’ve got work to do.” She tried to pull away but he didn’t let go of her arm.
“Speaking of last night…” he paused.
Cynthia struggled to breathe, feeling as if heavy weights had been laid on her chest. Did he want to continue what they’d started? Had his night been as sleepless as her own? Or had he simply picked up where they’d left off, continuing on with Heather? She could hardly credit his claim that she was his first kiss. He’d been back for two weeks. She’d seen him out with Heather half a dozen times. Surely the two had kissed, and done more.
“I don’t want to hear it,” she protested.
“Sorry. But I’m going to need my jacket back. You didn’t throw it away, did you?”
He wanted his jacket? She’d spent the night reliving every moment of their brief contact, and he was simply curious about what had happened to his precious clothing. She was halfway tempted to tell him she’d sent it to the dump or handed it to the nearest homeless person, but she wouldn’t lower herself to his level.
“It’s back at my apartment. Do you want to swing by there and pick it up?”
“Uh—“
She’d been aware of his body, of course. How could she not? The way his long legs were cut with muscle and deeply bronzed from his days in the deserts of the Middle East—so unlike the winter-white she hadn’t been able to escape. But now she noticed his clothes--T-shirt, gym shorts, running shoes. He hadn’t driven; he was jogging.
“I can give you a ride.”
He nodded, then walked over to her car. “Andrew tells me you made me out to be a saint in the article you wrote.”
“Andrew was jerking your chain.”
“Any idea why he doesn’t like me?”
“It’s hard to believe there’s anyone in Shermann who doesn’t like you, isn’t it, Russ?”
“I suppose I deserved that sarcasm. Still, if you’d like to answer the question.”
“I can’t share Andrew’s secrets with you.”
“Of course. Forget I asked.”
She dweeped her car unlocked, then climbed in the drivers side.
Russ opened the passenger door and sat, apparently unconcerned that he was going to be driven around town by a woman. The old Russell would never have stood for that. He’d had a need to be in charge and to be seen to be in charge, just as he’d needed to star in sports and date the most beautiful woman. The new Russ seemed more serene, confident. She’d found the old Russell sexy. She found the new one almost irresistible.
The car’s interior had always seemed amply spacious to her before, but now, she was acutely aware of its diminutive dimensions. When she went to put the key in the ignition, her hand brushed against Russ’s naked knee. When she shifted into reverse, her knuckle slid along the length of his thigh.
His scent, a combination of soap, a spicy aftershave that had been distinctly Russ since they’d been in high school together, along with something else—something purely sexual, crept through the vehicle like a thief, unseen but definitely not unnoticed.
She rolled down her window in a futile attempt to cool off.
“I hear you’re running in a 15 K this weekend.”
Okay, Russ, she thought. Just make conversation like nothing ever happened between us.
“Yeah. So?”
“Andrew thinks you’re pretty fast.”
Uh-oh. He was back on why Andrew didn’t like him. “I’ve won a couple of races.”
“Just thought I’d warn you that we’ve got a little bet going. He thinks you can beat me.”
She pulled over. “Look, Russ, I know you were a sports star in high school and I was a dweeb, but that’s over. I’ve been traini
ng for years now. I regularly beat guys from the high school track team and if I remember right, you were always a sprinter, never ran long distance. So, if you want my advice, I’d suggest going back to Andrew and backing out of the bet while you still can.”
Russ laughed. “A sprinter, huh? Boy, that puts me in my place.”
She blushed, then cranked down the window the rest of the way. She wasn’t going to run her air conditioner on a cool March day, but she was torn between savoring every moment she could spend with Russ and wishing that he would vanish from her life so she could get on with her attempt to fit in, to be part of the town.
It figured that Russ would take whatever she said sexually. It should be a reminder to her of the kind of guy he was. He’d been dating Heather off and on for years, but that hadn’t kept him from sexual affairs with other women, although she had to admit she hadn’t heard of any since Heather had announced their engagement. Of course, that had been shortly after his National Guard unit had been sent to the Middle East, and Cynthia wouldn’t have heard stories about whatever Russ was up to in a foreign country thousands of miles away from his fiancée.
Still, she couldn’t help being annoyed that he had taken her incompetence for granted. He’d lost his memory, for goodness sake. Couldn’t he have forgotten that she’d once been a dumpy exercise-allergic teen?
“Tell you what. Whatever you bet Andrew, I’ll double it. Because I’m going to run your rear into the ground.”
“I’ll think about it,” he said. He stared at her, unembarrassed by the frankness of his gaze, the way he studied her body. “I don’t think I’m interested in taking your money. But maybe we could come up with stakes that make the bet really interesting—for both of us.”
She shoved down the clutch, yanked the shifter into first, and peeled rubber down Third Street. The sooner she could get out of the car and get Russ his jacket, the better. Because a part of her wanted to take his bet, to make her body the stakes. Make him continue what he’d started the previous night, once she’d beaten him and put him in his place.
But the rest of her knew what that kind of bet would mean.
Russ would soon be forgiven for stepping out on Heather. His guy buddies would slap him on the back and compliment him for getting a bit of bonus action before marrying Heather, and the single women of Shermann would wish he’d thought of them instead.
Heather would be angry, but Russ wouldn’t be the target. Heather would know that Cynthia was at fault and would make her pay, even after Russ returned to Heather’s side like a dog to its master. Having Russ, even for a single night, would destroy everything Cynthia wanted, everything she’d devoted her life to creating.
Chapter 5
He hadn’t known they would be modeling underwear.
Russ had patiently judged the businesswear and sportswear categories, making sure he gave high marks to the hardworking locals who mostly looked lost and confused among the professional models Heather had hired to fill out the program.
He did his best to school his gaze, to keep his attention focused on the women parading the latest fashions in front of him and the other judges. It wasn’t easy, though. He found his attention wandering back to Cynthia, trying to figure out why she’d been so angry when he’d suggested doubling his bet with Andrew.
Sure she might be pissed that he thought he had a chance against her, but he didn’t think that was it. After all, she could rub his nose in his arrogance in just a couple of days—or she could try. It had to be something else—but he had no idea what.
He was surprised, at first, that Heather was not among the judges. But he soon realized why. She might have abandoned her lucrative career as a fashion model, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t use her talents if doing so could help her store. And with her looks and reputation as a former Miss Missouri, she certainly could help the store more as a model than as a judge. In addition to Cynthia and Andrew, there were reporters from all over Missouri, and as far away as Oklahoma, Kansas, even Chicago.
A black evening dress with dramatic cutouts on her thighs, abdomen, and breasts showed off Heather’s perfect body, made her stand out from the other models like a racehorse being pastured with children’s ponies.
The women’s lingerie showing came last.
The hometown models giggled and displayed relatively modest dressing robes and full-length nightgowns. The professional models knew no such limitations. They displayed their long slender bodies to the max, parading in filmy, shimmery scraps of fabric that left little to the imagination.
Heather was in her element.
He admired the glow that Heather projected, the energy that flowed from her through the crowd, and the elegant lines of her body. She had calculated the show precisely, letting the models from town feel special and sexy, but unthreatened. Because their peers were among the models, the women in the audience could imagine that they too could become sex goddesses like those on the runway, if only they did all of their shopping at Cochran’s Department Store. Of course the newspaper reporters salivated over a story that included a member of Shermann’s social elite prancing around in next to nothing.
Keeping his eyes on Heather shouldn’t have been difficult. He admired Heather, respected her, and liked her. Heather was every man’s dream. That should be enough to build a solid relationship on, shouldn’t it?
He caught a glimpse of Andrew Sexton and had to suppress a chuckle. The man practically had his tongue hanging out as he forgot the camera around his neck and simply stared at Heather.
He should have been as turned on as Andrew, as the other men watching the show. But he felt nothing. His heart rate only accelerated when he happened to glance over at Cynthia. Which didn’t make any sense at all since Cynthia was wearing a bulky photographer’s vest and a pair of baggy jeans.
“Scores up, please, judges.” Bart Cochran, Heather’s father, had flown up from retirement in Florida to host the show and was serving the role of senior judge.
Russ completed his evaluations. It didn’t seem right to give Heather a row of zeros, since she had been the most accomplished model on the runway, but she had been adamant with him before the show. Winning the competition would mean nothing to her. For one of the volunteer models, the temporary fame would translate into incredible and long-lasting goodwill for the store.
Russ helped gather up the judges’ scorepads, then, on Bart’s firm signal, accompanied him to a private room where they could add up the scores undisturbed by overanxious models.
“That Heather is quite a girl, isn’t she?” Bart demanded.
“Incredible,” Russ agreed.
“You know our sales are up, but did you know she’s also increased our margins? The funny thing is, she actually bumped up worker payscales across the board. I don’t know how she can do it.”
Russ hadn’t known that. In too much of small-town Missouri, jobs were scarce and pay rates low. Which was one reason so many kids left town once they’d graduated from high school, heading for the richer opportunities of St. Louis or Kansas City, or even out of state. Raising wages had been a brave decision for Heather and had risked the anger of the other businessmen in town who could hardly afford to match them.
“She’s got a great business head,” Russ said.
“I figure between the two of you, you’ve got the majority of the business sense in this town. Now that I’ve moved to Florida, anyway.” Bart’s laughter turned to a croaking cough.
“We should finish adding up these scores. The audience and models will be wanting to know the results.”
“Maybe. But I want something from you, first.”
“Yeah?”
“When are you going to set the date, son? I’m not getting any younger. Heather’s mom died last year, while you were out of the country. I hold you responsible for the fact she never got to meet her grandchildren.”
Russ tread carefully. He didn't want to anger his future father-in-law, but the man needed to understand. “You kno
w about my memory.”
“Who cares about your memory, son? You’ve got eyes, don’t you? You think you’re going to do better than Heather? And we already agreed she’s got a head for business. Brains and beauty—you can’t beat that.”
“You’re right, sir. Heather is a unique woman. Any man would be lucky to have her at his side.”
“But—“
Russ shrugged. “But why should she be interested in having me? People tell me I was the star of every high school team we fielded. All right, that’s wonderful. But that was a decade ago. Since then, I’ve made some money in investments. Big deal. What does that say much about who I am as a person? Nothing. And that’s the point. I don’t know who I am. How do I dare suggest that Heather marry me if I don’t know who I am?”
Bart blew out his cheeks, moved his lips in an attempt to respond, then pulled a calculator from his shirt pocket and added up a row of scores. “Looks like Heather won.”
“Can’t be, sir. She told us to give her zeros.”
“Guess some of the other judges didn’t go along. What do you suggest we do?”
Heather deserved the win. But winning would defeat the purpose of the entire fashion show. So, she had to lose.
“I’m afraid we’re going to have to disqualify her,” Russ said. “Did you know that she attempted to unfairly influence the judges by becoming a daughter to one and a fiancée to another?”
“But we gave her zeros.”
“The disqualification stands.”
Bart considered, then unleashed another of his choking laughs. “You’re all right, son. And I won’t bother you about setting a date.”
“Really.”
“Really. Not for another whole week.”
“What happens in a week?”
“You don’t set a date by then, I’ll do it for you.”
* * *
Cynthia shot photos of the stand-in models who mingled with the crowd dressed in their favorites of the clothing they’d modeled. All of them were waiting expectantly, hopefully, for the final judging. Even Millicent Wanks, who had never won anything and was married to one of the town’s biggest creeps, stared big-eyed at the judges waiting, Cynthia guessed, for another confirmation that she was a loser, that she didn’t deserve more than what she’d gotten. Unfortunately, since she was competing against Heather Cochran, Millicent was setting herself up for another blow.
Hometown Hero Page 7
