"I'm going to hold you to that,” he laughed.
She hurried to catch up as he walked towards the restaurant and locked her arm in his. “I have a couple of orifices you haven't thoroughly explored, you know,” she said huskily. “Tonight's the night."
"Kinky,” he laughed. “Are you sure you're hungry?"
She grinned. “I'm starved, but leave off the chocolate pie tonight. I have something else in mind for desert after we get home.
"It's good to see the old Jodi back,” Nate said as they sat down with their fourth plate of fried baby shrimp."
She grinned, dipped a golden brown shrimp in creamy tarter sauce, and replied, “It's good to be back.” She chewed slowly, swallowed and said, “Nate, please put off your trip for a couple of weeks. Now that I finally have the hang of the thing, I can complete this first manual in a week or two. I can then use it as a guide for the others, but I need you to get me through this first one."
Nate dropped his eyes. “I've worked too hard to risk blowing the deal, Jodi. They want to see me first thing Monday morning. I already have my airline ticket and I feel I must be on that plane tomorrow afternoon. I'll be back in a few days, review your work and help any way I can."
Her silence caused Nate to lift his eyes.
"There's something you're not telling me, isn't there? Jodi asked."
"What do you mean?"
"The postmark on the letter from your ex that I looked at was Atlanta. Your real reason for rushing off is to meet her."
Nate popped two more shrimp into his mouth and washed them down with iced tea before answering. “I'm going to Atlanta to close the voiceprint deal. I may call her while I'm there, just to see if she's okay. There—does that make you feel better?"
"Just a few days ago you said you love me. Now you're running off to her arms."
"Her arms are no longer open to me, Jodi. She probably won't even talk with me if I do screw up my courage and call her."
Jodi pushed her plate away. “I lied,” she said.
"About what?"
"I can't eat every shrimp in Mammy's kitchen."
"I've had enough too,” Nate said and he pulled three dollar bills from his pocket and slipped them under his plate.
As they strapped on their seatbelts, Nate smiled wickedly. “It's desert time."
Jodi halfheartedly returned the smile. “A promise is a promise, but Nate..."
"Yes?"
"I'm not ready to go home just yet. You're leaving tomorrow and that makes me sad, but I did have a breakthrough with my manual today. I want to celebrate a little."
"What do you have in mind?"
"I don't know ... yes I do. Let's go dancing."
"Ugh. Dancing is not my forte,” he said.
She sighed. “It doesn't matter. It was just a thought."
"There's a little piano bar on the way home and they do have a dance floor. Want to share a bottle of Champaign and listen to the music?"
"Really—it doesn't matter, Nate. Let's just go home and have desert."
Nate hummed along with the music on the car stereo and pulled into the parking lot of the Starlight Club. He set the parking brake, but before switching off the ignition he looked lovingly at Jodi and said, “They have a very romantic ambience—candles on the table and everything."
"Is it expensive?"
"I don't remember. I've only been here once. It doesn't matter though. You're worth whatever it costs."
"We're not dressed for night-clubbing."
"There is no dress code at the beach."
Jodi grinned and squeezed his thigh. “Maybe for just a few minutes."
Immediately upon entering the dimly lighted club, a tuxedo clad man appeared. “Good evening, folks. Do you have a reservation?"
Nathan cleared his throat while digging for the roll of bills in his pocket. “We decided to stop in on the spur of the moment. I didn't know reservations were required.” Still fumbling in his pocket Nate peeled off what he hopped was a twenty.
"They're not,” the man replied courteously. “It's unusual for this early in the season, but we have no available tables tonight, unless you're willing to share with another couple."
Nathan pulled his empty hand from his pocket. “What do you think, Jodi."
"We're just going to stay a few minutes,” Jodi replied. “If the other couple don't mind, it's okay with me."
They followed the tuxedo through a maze of tables and Jodi's expression lightened at the sound of the five-piece band on the stage. Her eyes widened as they reached the designated table and a tall, extremely handsome man stood and offered his hand to Nate.
"I'm Don Overly and this is my date, Mariah Gentry."
Mariah smiled seductively. “We've met."
Nate shook Don's hand vigorously. “I am Nathan Watson and this is Jodi Swanson."
Jodi politely extended her hand and trembled when Don's hand closed on hers. Oh, my God, Jodi thought as she felt moisture building between her legs. This can't be happening.
Champaign was ordered and served and meaningless conversation flowed as the band played on. Jodi tried, but couldn't keep her eyes off Don. He didn't seem to be flirting with her and, as best she could tell, Mariah wasn't flirting with Nate. As she sipped her third glass of the delicious fluid, she feared she was laughing too loudly at Don's jokes.
"Look, folks,” Nate said jovially, “you don't have to sit here and entertain us. I'm afraid I don't dance. Jodi and I came in to listen to the band."
Under the table, Mariah gently rested her hand on Nathan's knee. “We have that in common.” She turned to her date. “Don, why don't you and Jodi show us how it's done?"
Assuming a formal tone, Don narrowed his green eyes and said, “Miss Jodi, may I have the honor of this dance?"
Jodi hoped the others could not hear her heart thumping. Not trusting her voice, she pushed her chair back from the table. Don rushed to her side and held her chair as she stood.
Jodi resolved to just move with the beat, but Don was such a good dancer that she soon found herself twisting her hips and flailing the air with her arms, causing her breasts to shimmer and shake. At first, she worried about Nate's reaction to her display, but following Don's lead, she soon found herself out of Nate's sight on the opposite side of the crowded dance floor.
One dance led to another and soon Jodi's gyrations covered her body with perspiration, but she knew the moisture on her inner thighs was a different kind of body secretion.
The band switched to a slow tune and Jodi ginned into Don's sensuous face. “Thank goodness,” she said. “I'm exhausted."
He pulled her closer and they began to slowly two-step in time with the music. Jodi rested her head on Don's shoulder, being careful to avoid full body contact. Don's right hand applied pressure to the small of her back and soon she felt his arousal slowly rubbing against her pubic mound. The combination of fatigue and three glasses of Champaign successfully defeated her impulse to resist.
What the heck, she thought. I'll never seem him again. She relaxed and let him feel her firm breasts pressed against his chest.
He whispered in her ear and she trembled. It was not what he said, but the timber of his voice that mesmerized her. She felt his hand slid to her buttocks. She pulled it up to the small of her back. The hand drifted back and this time she simply sighed.
She lifted her head and felt his lips gently touch hers. Their tongues met. She felt his hand on her naked thigh beneath her short skirt. She allowed it to travel north and shivered when a finger forced its way under the elastic leg band of her panties. His tongue danced inside her mouth as his hand moved to the inside of her thigh.
Oh, no, she thought. Now he knows I'm turned on.
He pressed his cheek to hers and whispered. “Let's get rid of Mariah and Nate and meet someplace."
Reality returned to her addled mind and she pushed away.
"At least give me your phone number,” he pleaded.
"Don, I'm sorry. Th
e only thing I'm good at is making mistakes, and this was a big one. I'm truly sorry."
She pushed her way across the dance floor with Don meekly following. She stood behind Nate and kissed him on the cheek. “I've had enough, Buckshot. It's time for desert."
"It's a private joke,” Nate explained as he stood up.
They drove home listening to Tommy Dorsy on the car stereo and, as Jodi opened the car door, Nate said, “Jodi, I lied about something earlier and it's about to drive me nuts."
"I knew it,” she cried. “You do have a tryst set up with your former wife."
He shook his head. “It's worse than that. I lied about your chapter."
Jodi stared at him in disbelief.
He gripped the steering wheel tightly and took a deep breath. “The first three sentences are excellent. The rest is ... well ... unnecessary."
"I can't very well have a chapter consisting of only three sentences, Nate."
"Do you remember when you first read my latest manual?"
"Of course. It was full of errors."
"Yeah, but you also said it was too wordy—too long. You said game players wanted just the facts so they could get on with playing the game."
She nodded.
"You're writing a manual, Jodi, not a novel."
Her voice was frigid. “What do you suggest I do, Mr. Watson?"
"Delete everything after the first three sentences and move on to chapter two."
"The outline we agreed on has ten points. If I write with the brevity you suggest, the thing will turn out to be only five or ten pages long."
"So? Didn't you once say that if you were doing the writing you would turn my long-winded manuals into pamphlets? Go for it."
Jodi slammed the car door and raced to the house. Nate raised the top of the convertible, walked slowly to the porch, and sat for a long while on the top step. When he entered the house, Jodi had locked herself in the guestroom. He knocked tentatively on the door. “Jodi, I'm sorry."
There was no response. “Honey, I like your story about the Amberdonees. I really do. I think you have a future as a writer of short stories or even novels."
There was still no response. “Maybe you could use the story as a preface or perhaps an appendage to the manual."
"Whatever."
Nate smiled. “Jodi?"
"Yes."
"You, uh, promised me a special desert when we got home and I'm powerful hungry."
"Go to hell, Nathan Watson."
Nate slept fitfully and was grateful when the sun, peeking through his bedroom windows, provided an excuse to get up. He went through his regular morning routine and paused beside the guestroom door. Hearing nothing, he walked alone to the far side of the inlet and back, showered and dressed.
Again, he stood outside the closed guestroom door. He rapped gently and said, “Hey, Sleepyhead, it's time to get up.” Hearing no response he tried the doorknob and was surprised that the door was not locked. The room was empty.
"Jodi?” he shouted. There was no response. He checked her study, the great room and the kitchen. In a panic he raced to the front porch and checked the driveway. The convertible was where he parked it last night. His frantically searching eyes spotted her lone figure, pacing on the beach. He started to go to her, but changed his mind and fixed his own breakfast instead.
After washing the dishes, Nate returned to the porch. She was now sitting cross-legged in the sand and staring out to sea. He wanted desperately to fold her in his arms, but instead went to his study and packed his briefcase. He went back to the porch and checked on her once more. She was now on the pier gazing into the foaming water as it washed against the pilings. He went to his bedroom and carelessly packed a suitcase. In his study, he checked the address book on his computer and made a note of the telephone number for his former wife.
After putting the suitcase and briefcase into the trunk of his red Taurus, Nate returned to his study, checked his email and thoughtfully wrote in longhand a codicil to his will. He placed the one page document in the small metal box in the lower right-hand desk drawer. Jodi's calm voice startled him.
"I fixed you a couple of sandwiches,” she said. “They're on the kitchen table. Have a safe trip,” she said from the study door.
"Jodi, can't we talk about it?"
"There's really nothing to talk about, Nathan."
"Well, look Honey, I'll call you when I get there."
"There's no need of that."
"I ... I'll call anyway. Jodi, I hurt your feelings last night. I'm sorry. I should have told you the truth about your chapter right off the bat, but you were so excited I just couldn't do it."
"Don't worry about it. It's my problem, not yours. I hope everything in Atlanta works out, Nathan."
The resignation in her voice was troubling. “Thanks, Jodi. I appreciate that. I'll be back in a few days. Baby, I noticed on my calendar this morning that Bob Renegar is coming in the morning. I had forgotten about it."
"Who is Bob Renegar?"
"He's a young guy in business for himself—sort of a jack of all trades. He's going to replace the roof on the garage and pier house. They are more exposed than the house and I have to replace those roofs every couple of years. It won't look as good, but Bob is going to put on metal roofs this time. He says they should last at least ten years."
"I hope he can manage without my help. I probably won't be here."
"What?"
"I owe you, Nathan. You saved my life. I know that, but there doesn't seem to be any way to repay you unless you want me to be your house whore."
"Jodi,” he cried, rushing to her.
She stiff-armed him, refusing to allow the embrace.
"Baby, don't do this,” he pleaded.
"I've made so many bad decisions in my lifetime, Nate, that I'm not going to rush into this, but unless I change my mind, I'm going to move on. It just isn't working out."
"Jodi, let's talk about this. Please, honey. I'll ... I'll cancel my trip. We'll spend some quality time together. We can..."
"I need time alone, Nate.” She turned and rushed down the hall.
Nathan heard the lock trip on the guestroom door and brushed moisture from his eyes.
Chapter Ten
Nate parked his Taurus in the secured area of the Municipal Airport parking lot, hooked the strap of the computer carrying case over his shoulder and lugged his suitcase and briefcase a half mile across the asphalt to the terminal. He paused, looking for the Blue Sky ticket booth, and pushed his way through the milling crowd. As he approached the airline agency, he recognized a loud, agitated feminine voice. He smiled as he approached the gesticulating pharmacist.
"Something wrong, Mariah?"
Her eyes blazed as she whirled away from the bewildered clerk. “This bitch won't sell me a ticket."
"Ma'am, I'm sorry,” the clerk apologized. “There's nothing I can do. The flight is booked."
"Where are you headed, Mariah?” Nate asked, pretending to look at her face instead of her heaving breasts.
"Atlanta! I must be there by eight tonight and the next direct flight is tomorrow morning. Can you believe that?"
Nate glanced at the clerk. “Is flight number 1296 on schedule?"
"Yes, sir. It departs at one o'clock."
"I have a reservation—Nathan Watson.” As the clerk searched for his ticket, Nate returned his attention to Mariah. “The next flight won't help me either, sexy lady. I must be in Atlanta at nine in the morning, but you take my ticket anyway. I have a fear of flying and this will be a good excuse for me to drive down there."
"You mean it?"
He nodded and turned back to the clerk who was holding his ticket package. “Just change the name to Mariah, uh ... I'm sorry, Mariah. I've forgotten your last name."
"Gentry,” she said, the fury gone from her eyes, “but hold on a minute. How long does it take to drive to Atlanta?"
"Five, maybe six hours."
"That's a long trip to make b
y yourself. Want some company?"
Nate smiled at the exasperated clerk. “Looks like the flight is not completely booked after all. Please credit my charge card account.” Turning back to Mariah, he asked, “Where's your luggage?"
She nodded towards a green pushcart containing a half dozen bags.
"My God, woman! How long do you plan to stay?” he laughed, adding his suitcase, briefcase and laptop computer to the cart.
Mariah fell in step beside him as he pushed the cart towards the exit. “The conference concludes with a banquet Friday night, so I guess I'll come back Saturday."
"I suppose the conference has something to do with your profession."
She nodded. “In order to keep our licenses current we must successfully complete twenty hours of additional training each year. What takes you to Atlanta, you handsome hunk?"
Nate grinned. “I'll explain on the way down. Do you have a hotel reservation?"
She looked sheepish as she wagged her head. “I didn't do a very good job of planning ahead, did I?"
"Maybe it's fate. I have a motel reservation and I'm sure the room has a double bed."
Mariah grinned and looped her arm around Nate's waist. “What your sweetie doesn't know won't hurt her, will it? I've been wanting to get you between the sheets since the first time I saw you."
"I guess my sweetie isn't my sweetie anymore. We broke up last night."
Mariah smiled wickedly and sarcastically replied, “I'm so sorry, but I'm not surprised. From what I dug out of Don last night, he practically humped her on the dance floor. Hey, I thought you guys were living together."
Nate nodded, Mariah's words stabbing his heart. “We are ... or were. She said she'd be gone by the time I got back from Atlanta. I guess now I know why."
"What a pity,” Mariah laughed as she slid her hand from his waist to his right buttock.
* * * *
Jodi spread the newspaper on the kitchen table and searched the classified section, circling in pencil the rooms and apartments for rent in which she thought she might be interested. She spent the afternoon looking at them. Several had possibilities, but none matched Nate's palace overlooking the inlet.
Sintown Chronicles III: In Dark Corners Page 39
