“Ten darts for a nickel.”
A nickel? Why so cheap? The question breezed off her thoughts and drifted away as she picked five pennies from the bottom of her purse. She tossed the coins onto the counter and grabbed the darts from his hand. Anger, meant solely for Jack and his little tart, flushed hot against her cheeks as she aimed the first dart at a cluster of balloons.
A red balloon exploded with a POP, and Izzy jumped, more from excitement than surprise. Bursting the balloon and the thrill that followed felt good. Izzy took aim and prepared to hurl the next dart.
A second balloon erupted. Cool. The prospect of victory stroked and satisfied her ego.
“Guess who’s headed your way?” Jeannie’s cavalier voice whipped past her ear. A barrage of chills stiffened the hairs on the back of Izzy’s neck, then rolled over her shoulders and down her arms.
“Who?” Izzy glanced over her shoulder to see Jeannie pointing off to the side. Her gaze followed her sister’s fingertip and landed on Jack and his floozy heading her way. “Oh, hell no!” She slammed the darts down on the counter and marched off. The need to get away briefly subdued the pain in her ankle and she was able conceal her injury under the guise of a very slight limp.
“Izzy...” Jeannie’s voice chased after her.
Her sister was following her, she knew that, still she refused to stop. Stopping might give Jack the opportunity to catch up to her. Her desire to flee had only provided a temporary relief. Now the pain had returned and was intensifying. Scrambling along, she began to limp but was determined to keep moving.
“What happened to you? Why are you limping?” Jeannie caught up to Izzy.
“I twisted my ankle.” She didn’t stop or look at her sister. If she kept moving, he’d give up, eventually.
“Wait.” Jeannie’s short, sturdy fingers clamped around Izzy’s elbow.
Izzy stopped and fixated on her sister, determined not to look in Jack’s direction. The chartreuse suit complimented her sister’s pale green eyes and her stout build. And Izzy had to wonder why they looked so different. Nothing about them echoed “we’re sisters”. Not their eyes, not their hair and not their stature. She literally had to look down several inches to meet her sister’s gaze.
Maybe they had different fathers? A plausible scenario, but not something she felt comfortable asking.
“Why are you running away?” Jeannie’s green eyes—so different from Izzy’s deep blue ones—asked the question as much as her words.
She cut her eyes briefly in the direction she’d last seen Jack. “I don’t want them to get close enough to me that I have to acknowledge them.”
Izzy had avoided spending too much time looking at Jack. But she saw Jeannie casting a quick, stealthy look his way.
She glanced dismissively back toward Izzy. A devilish grin crossed her face. “Well, if he’s going to flaunt a girl in your face...you know what you have to do.” Jeannie folded her arms across her chest. “What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.”
The suggestion, abrasive and insinuating, stiffened Izzy’s body. “What?”
Jeannie laced her arm around Izzy’s and led her away. “All I’m saying is that you shouldn’t let him get to you.” She paused a moment and patted Izzy’s hand with a patronizing touch. “Another man’ll show him.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” Her voice hardened with distaste. “My husband is overseas. Remember?”
“Yes, I remember Harry is overseas. But we’re not talking about Harry.” Jeannie’s words invaded Izzy’s psyche, sounding average and ordinary. Still, they captivated her attention. “You should give as good as you’re getting. Show him that you’re not sitting around crying over him.”
Ha! “It’ll be a cold day in hell...” Somewhere in the remote corners of her mind, Izzy knew Jeannie’s suggestions were nothing more than high school antics. Even so, she couldn’t help herself. The words breezed off Jeannie’s lips and Izzy felt compelled to comply. She didn’t necessarily understand or agree with her sister’s tactics, but by now she was way beyond the point of reason.
As if in a trance, she followed Jeannie toward a table where Paul, Jeannie’s current date, and George Hadley, the object of Jeannie’s affections only a few days ago, were waiting. Both men rose and dipped their chins courteously as the sisters approached.
With a gentle shove, Jeannie pushed Izzy toward George. His devilishly handsome grin somehow brightened his golden brown eyes. Well, okay...yeah, he’s good-looking.
Izzy smiled. “Hi.”
“Would you like to sit?” He gestured toward the seat beside him.
“Sure.” An overwhelming sensation of being intoxicated inundated Izzy. It made no sense, she hadn’t been drinking. That knowledge didn’t lessen the feeling.
Reaching for the chair, her head dizzied and her vision blurred. She lunged into the seat, but was able to disguise her failing by declaring, “geez, it’s good to finally sit down.” Thankfully, no one could see the uncertainty in her eyes—thanks to Jack’s sunglasses.
“Jeannie tells me you’re a singer.” George returned to his seat, and Izzy only nodded in the direction of his voice. “I must confess, I did see you sing a while back...at the Cool Cat.”
“You did?” She knew he’d been there, but chose to keep it to herself.
“I was given the impression you weren’t available for...conversation.” His illusive and suggestive intent escaped in his voice.
“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.” Feeling better now that her head had begun to clear, she rested her hands in her lap and laced her fingers together. “Although, I do want you to know straight away...I am married. My husband is overseas.”
“Well, you know what I always say—” A suggestive implication gleamed in his eyes and curled a less than honorable grin into the corners of his mouth. “—What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
Humph. What you don’t know won’t hurt you, either. He was cute, and she was tempted. But her heart wasn’t in it. She’d momentarily been smitten by George, even though she didn’t understand it. Luckily, she’d come to her senses before she did something she’d end up regretting.
That didn’t change the fact that Jack had moved on, and so quickly and easily, too. Jeannie had a point. If he could do it, so could Izzy. Letting Jack think she didn’t care was the first step to liberating her heart.
“Hey, you guys want to ride the Ferris Wheel?” Jeannie glanced around the table, seeking approval.
Izzy loved the Ferris Wheel. She didn’t know how she knew it. There wasn’t a single memory inside her head of ever riding one. Still, the anticipation cheered her mood. Invaded by the desperate desire to go for a ride, she glimpsed at George. “What do you think?”
“Sure.” He nodded his head slightly, accepting her invitation.
George rose and Izzy followed, with Paul and Jeannie not far behind. The couples strolled toward the carnival rides and claimed a place in the short line for the Ferris Wheel. George and Paul took turns telling jokes while Izzy and Jeannie did their part by laughing to feed their male egos.
Izzy’s escort glanced up the line in front of them. He seemed to ponder it for a moment before turning back to her. “I’ve got to hit the latrine. I don’t think you’ll make the front of the line before I get back.”
“Okay. Sure. Go ahead.” Indifference shrugged Izzy’s shoulders and tilted her head. She didn’t care. The man had to use the bathroom.
Moments passed and the line of anxious riders diminished, nagging at Izzy’s nerves. As the couple ahead of her was escorted to the Ferris Wheel, she guided Jeannie and Paul to the front of the line. When they were led to the next available cart, Izzy’s nerves rocketed to new and scary heights.
There was nothing worse than riding the Ferris Wheel alone. Talk about pitiful. Knowing her turn was coming up quickly, she glanced around looking for George.
“What’s the matter...lose your partner?” Jack’s voice, both teasi
ng and tempting, breezed against her ear.
Izzy flung her head around in Jack’s direction.
Anger swirled furiously behind her blue eyes, as deep as any ocean, and stalled into a savaged glare.
Boy. If looks could kill. Jack didn’t know what had her so irked. But he hoped he’d caught the brunt of her rage. To think it could get worse than this was scary.
Jack was mad, too—at George. He’d told him to stay away from Isabelle, but that order was disregarded the moment George found out she was married. Still, Jack didn’t have to like it.
“Your date seems to have disappeared.” Jack liked that. He wanted George gone.
“No,” she said with deceptive calm, avoiding eye contact. “He’ll be back.”
“Next.” The attendant’s grating command urged the line forward.
Jack slid one hand down her arm, laced her fingers around his and looked at the Ferris Wheel. “Well, it’s either me...or you end up a dreaded single on a couples ride, see.”
“Whatever. You do what you want.” Her tone, courteous yet condescending belted him, chilling his confidence as she passed through the gate.
Jack followed Isabelle and climbed inside her cart. He laid his arm behind her and purposefully grazed his fingers along her back. The attendant slammed the bar in place across their laps, locking the compartment.
“So, Isabelle, I’m a little curious...” He snuggled her closer as the Ferris Wheel began to move upward.
She cut her eyes, examining him cautiously. “Choose your words wisely, Jack,” she said, as if she knew the thoughts running through his mind.
“I just don’t want to see you do something you’ll end up regretting.”
“It’s a little late for that.” Hurt flashed in her eyes. The cart crested at the highest point and stopped.
“So what are you saying? You regret us?” he asked through gritted teeth. She wasn’t supposed to say that. She was supposed to prefer leaving her husband to losing him.
“No...” She paused, the hurt that had darkened her eyes moments before gave way to sadness. The Ferris Wheel began to move faster and she grabbed the bar. “I can’t do this anymore, Jack.” A pleading trait shook her voice. “I know, ideally we should be able to put our feelings aside and just be friends.”
There was a ‘but’ in there somewhere struggling to get out. As encouraging as that seemed, it wasn’t going to do him any good. “Sometimes, that’s easier said than done, see.”
The ride whirled round and round and inched her closer to him. Okay. He’d take what he could get. She chewed on her upper lip and stole a glance at him. He smiled and had meant it in a comforting way, but he couldn’t be sure that’s the way it transpired.
Awkwardly, she cleared her throat. “I just didn’t realize that seeing you with another woman was going to be so hard.”
What? Where had that come from? “Another woman?” he said out loud, trying to figure out when and where that might have happened.
“How quickly you forget.” Isabelle’s despair turned to doubt, and her suspicion stung his ego.
Then it hit. “You mean Margaret?” He couldn’t stop the urge to laugh, so he let his bitterness seep out too. “Is that why you’re sporting George Hadley around like a new coat?”
“Excuse me?” She gave him a hostile glare. “I’m not the one making a spectacle of myself.”
“Well, that’s a matter of opinion, see.” He didn’t like the idea of a pairing between them and he wasn’t going to pretend otherwise.
Her lips thinned with anger. “I’m not the one that’s running around with someone who looks like they’re barely out of diapers.”
The ride slowed and came to a halt, their cart just inches from the ground. The attendant strode toward them and released the locked bar. Jack climbed out, and like a gentleman offered Isabelle his hand.
“You got a minute?” he asked, as she took his hand and climbed out. “I want you to meet my date.”
The chill in her stare rippled through him. “I think it’s probably best if you and I agree right now...from this moment forward, we will treat each other as casual and indifferent acquaintances.” She paused, taking a couple of steps back. “And Jack, I have no desire to meet your date.”
Her hostile words and aloof behavior sliced through him. Yet, he hadn’t tried to stop her as she walked away. Why? Every ounce of romanticism in him wanted to chase after her, but his dignity pulled rank on his desire.
His eyes hung on her rigid frame as she limped away. Curiosity crossed his mind over what happened to her. Jack considered chasing after Isabelle and sweeping her off her feet. Obviously, the girl was hurt. Sadly though, he could not be her hero. He knew it and she knew it.
She may be off limits but still, she hadn’t liked seeing him with another woman.
Imagine...she was jealous of Margaret. It appeared that a nice big, fat slice of crow was in order for Isabelle. With a chuckle, Jack slid his hands inside his trouser pockets and backed away a step or two before turning and striding off.
CHAPTER 17
IZZY HATED the doctor appointments. After a multitude of tests, the hospital staff had found nothing wrong with her, physically anyway, and she’d been turned over—although ‘dumped on’ was a more accurate depiction of how she’d ended up under the care of a psychiatrist. But weekly engagements with a shrink didn’t set well. It made Izzy feel like she was crazy.
Maybe she was. She couldn’t remember a thing past the last month. And, as if that wasn’t bad enough, she was seeing people who weren’t there. It mostly happened when she came to the hospital. She finally concluded that she might be seeing dead people, and she was starting to feel like that kid in the Sixth Sense. She didn’t have fluid memories of the movie. Only that one snippet of information, the premise—a kid who saw dead people.
She’d also wager that no one else had ever heard of the film.
Between the ghostly images and the inclinations about movies that didn’t exist, Izzy had begun to legitimately question her sanity. Fearing the doctors would too, she decided to keep quiet about the things that seemed out of the ordinary.
Doc Beal, the shrink assigned to her case, thought she’d suffered some traumatic episode, which her mind had chosen to block out. During her weekly sessions, she spent an hour trying to convince him, if that were true, she had no way of knowing it. The doctor constantly suggested hypnosis, but for some reason Izzy wasn’t comfortable with that option. The session always ended the same—with her not knowing anything more than she did when they started.
After each visit, on her way out, she’d almost always run into someone she’d recently met. Usually someone who new Jack. Today it was Mickey Fitch. She’d seen him with Jack a couple of times and took them for good friends.
“Isabelle.” He smiled and tipped his cap.
“Mickey, hello.” She returned his friendly greeting and paused, acknowledging her readiness to initiate a conversation.
“What a pleasant surprise,” he said. “How do you like Margaret? She’s a sweet girl, isn’t she?”
“Excuse me?” Confused and insulted, she saw no reason to suppress the rush of energized emotions.
“Jack’s sister?” Mickey’s confidence diminished, he wrinkled his brow and narrowed his eyes.
“Huh?” She didn’t recall Jack having a sister and couldn’t remember meeting one.
“The girl at the picnic.” Mickey seemed determined to talk about the girl. Maybe it was different for guys, but that didn’t mean Izzy had to oblige.
But being rude wasn’t in her, not when the prospective recipient wasn’t deserving. “Oh, yes. Yes, of course,” she said with cordial consideration. Then the realization slammed against her head.
That was Jack’s sister? Why didn’t he tell her? He knew how rattled she’d been over him showing up with another woman. But instead of easing her fears, he’d all but laughed at her, and enjoyed watching her squirm.
A bit of relief calmed
Izzy and soothed her temper, but it was nothing compared to the agony she felt toward Jack for letting her rant and rave and act like a fool.
Jeannie hated the outdoors, but the park was the safest and most secure way to ensure that no one interfered with her plans. Claiming a run-into here was much easier to explain away than coming up with excuses about why she was at a restaurant, or some other place indoors, with George Hadley. A couple of weeks ago, it would have been okay. But not now. Not after George and Izzy had had that semi-date.
“I don’t know, Jeannie...” George’s words trailed off in doubt. “...She didn’t seem too all-fired interested in me at the picnic the other day.”
“Oh, my dear, sweet George.” Jeannie’s words dripped with sweet persuasion. “The thing that you have to understand about my sister is...she likes to play games. She thinks men enjoy the catch a bit more when they have to put forth a little effort in the chase.”
“Well—” George chuckled. “—She may be on to something there.”
“It turns her on when she’s pursued relentlessly.” She let out a deep, throaty, suggestive moan. “My little sister becomes a wildcat. Or so I’m told.” She dragged her fingernails through his hair in slow, sensuous strokes down to the nape of his neck.
George remained quiet. He didn’t move. He just stared forward. She sensed the wheels turning inside his head. He was on the verge of relenting, but he still had reservations. “Are you sure?” He faced her, and judging by the smile that had curled at the corners of his mouth, Jeannie knew he’d found what he thought was a viable excuse. “What about her husband?”
Jeannie raked her nails over his chest and snuck inside the opening between the buttons on his shirt. “Since when have you let a little thing like that get in your way?” she asked, moving her hand south.
The smile in his eyes blazed with a sensuous flame and Jeannie knew he was contemplating having sex with just about anybody right now.
Izzy, she’s the one. She directed her silent command, scarcely discernible, into George’s mind where it could consume his thoughts.
“Well, if anybody knows your sister’s idiosyncrasies, it’d be you.” His carefree demeanor told Jeannie that she’d gotten to him, just that easily. Good, she hadn’t lost her touch.
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