by Nancy Bush
“Can you feel anything yet?”
“Just the wall.”
“No, I mean, on your body. Have you got any feeling back?”
His breath blew hot against her wet hair. “Not much,” she admitted, a frisson slipping down her spine.
“Do you remember the rain on the tree house?” he asked suddenly, unexpectedly.
Sherry didn’t know how to answer. She could hear his even breathing and as time passed, her eyes began to adjust to the dim light. There was light beneath a doorway at the end of the hall, but J.J., standing beside her, seemed tall and huge and inordinately male.
“Yes,” she whispered.
The music rose to a crescendo, then faded away. A woman’s voice, pure and sweet, took its place as she sang a hymn of joy.
And J.J. did the unthinkable. He leaned forward, his right hand softly groping on the slant of her jaw. Sherry shrank backward, but it was no use. J.J.’s mouth touched down on hers, as cool as silk. Startled, Sherry simply froze, letting the contours of his lips mold to hers.
His tongue sought hers, softly, questioningly. Sherry was breathless. She hadn’t kissed a man in years and never with the same passion she’d once kissed J.J. She couldn’t have this, but she wanted it, she realized vaguely. Wanted it so badly it was all she could do to keep from wrapping herself around him in the intimate little hallway.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he drew back. His breath fanned her face, uneven and warm. The singer’s voice reached a peak, ran back down the scale, then returned to another high. Sherry ached for J.J. to kiss her again. Her lips remained parted. Desire danced in her head.
“You taste like rain,” his voice murmured.
“So do you.”
“I want to see you,” he stated harshly, as if he were mad at himself for the admission. “While you’re here,” he said, “I want to see you.”
He kissed her again before she could protest, turning her knees to water. Her hands climbed over his shoulder, her wanton body quivered. He pulled her close, molding her to him, his mouth possessing hers. Sherry moaned low in her throat, unable to stop herself.
“After the wedding,” she whispered when his lips relinquished hers. Slowly, she pulled off his jacket and handed it back to him.
A low groan escaped his lips as he quickly put it back on, then his hand held hers tightly as he led her the rest of the way down the hallway and into the lighted rooms behind the door.
VALENTINE’S CHILD — NANCY BUSH
Chapter Eight
She didn’t remember the wedding ceremony. She sat in the back row, wet and silent, but inside she was heated by her own churning thoughts. Roxanne and the rest of the wedding party had greeted her and J.J.’s arrival with cries of worry and surprise, then she’d been led to a restroom where she’d stripped off her ruined nylons and was toweled off by, of all people, Summer, who’d grown fat and happy, but no less wise.
“Still with J.J.,” she declared, rubbing down Sherry’s hair. “My God, I thought you’d escaped this dreary hamlet.”
Sherry couldn’t explain. There was no time. She was hustled right out again and directed back to the dark hallway then outside onto the covered porch and finally through the front door to sneak into a pew at the rear of the church. J.J. appeared moments later with the other groomsmen, his hair still wet but combed into place. His suit was soaked, however, and the crowd murmured in amusement as he stood near the altar, his back to the audience.
Roxanne made a beautiful bride, her hair bound up and adorned with tiny white flowers; her dress a flowing, lacy mermaid style with a long train. Red tulips and roses abounded.
With a jolt Sherry realized that J.J. had kissed her on Valentine’s Day. Coincidence. Symmetry.
Her gaze was reserved for only him. Throughout the ceremony it was his broad shoulders Sherry watched; the back of his black hair, the hem of his waterlogged jacket. It was there — this thing she had for him — alive and beating still. One kiss and she remembered all those luscious feelings from high school. It was like an addictive drug, dangerous and upsetting and wrong, yet tempting beyond belief.
It was why she was here. No. she reminded herself. She was here for Mandy. Only Mandy. J.J. hadn’t loved her when she was seventeen; he didn’t love her now.
And he would hate her when he learned the truth.
Shivering, she closed her eyes. Emotions swarmed, scorching her like hot lava. I want him.
How could this be? Sherry couldn’t credit it. For years she’d felt nothing for any male but friendship, or contempt, or just general lack of interest. Her customers at Dee’s Deli had earned her friendship; over-ardent admirers her contempt; and the rest of the lot, her general lack of interest. She’d done nothing — nada — to encourage any man, and the few kisses she’d received since that last time with J.J. had been stolen ones from an over persistent date who had felt it was payment for services rendered. She’d begun to wonder if her sex drive had died with their relationship. High school didn’t count, she’d scolded herself on a regular basis. One was too young at sixteen, seventeen and eighteen to make those decisions. Those years were too wrapped up in anxiety, anyway; worrying about popularity and who was cool and who was doing what to whom. It was exhausting.
Now she realized she’d been kidding herself. Those feelings had been real. They were here now. They’d just been hiding beneath her skin, biding their time, waiting to leap out and expose themselves.
But J.J.? He was the last person in the world she should want. Not now. Not when she’d gotten her life together. Not when Mandy had resurfaced and there was a chance for them to be a real mother and daughter.
Was that it? Sherry asked herself, delving painfully into her own soul. Was it thinking that they could be a family that had brought this on?
“You’re not that stupid,” she whispered.
“Pardon?” The woman in the wide, royal blue hat sitting next to Sherry peered at her from beneath the oval brim.
“Talking to myself,” she reassured her, throwing a glance at J.J.’s wide shoulders and slim hips. She could practically feel the blood rushing lightly through her veins.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” the woman said in an aside.
“Mmm.” Sherry’s gaze wandered to Roxanne and she forced herself to think about her friend instead of her own problems. What would it be like to embark on your own marriage? To plan to share your life with the man you loved?
Tempting thoughts. Ridiculous thoughts. Dangerous thoughts.
As soon as the ceremony was over the wedding party gathered for pictures. Standing toward the back of the church, Sherry could still hear the amused laughter and comments about J.J.’s wet tuxedo. But Roxanne, true to form, merely urged everyone into place and proceeded as if the fact the best man was dripping puddles everywhere was of no consequence, which it wasn’t. “Something to tell the kids,” Roxanne said with a dismissive wave of her hand, her face glowing with rapture. Nothing could spoil her day.
A pang of something like jealousy filled Sherry’s breast and she glanced away, wondering if she should skip out. But Summer was here, and nostalgia was like a long beckoning finger, drawing Sherry forward even while she wanted to melt into the woodwork.
She was as bedraggled as J.J.; worse, really. Lank, wet tendrils of hair were sticking to her neck. Glancing down, she could see her nipples standing at attention through the black sheath. Shivering a little, she crossed her arms.
“The reception’s downstairs,” Ryan said, near her ear.
Startled, Sherry turned, glimpsed Kathy’s closed face, then smiled a thank-you at her friend. “I’ll be right down.”
“We’re all going over to Roxanne’s parents’ place afterward,” he added. “You coming?”
“Uh… I don’t know.”
“If ya don’t, Roxanne and Summer will send a posse,” Ryan predicted.
“We’ll see,” was her noncommittal answer.
“There’s Caroline!” Kathy interjected, leav
ing her husband’s side to meet the cool blonde in the taupe silk dress. Caroline had always possessed the same touch-me-not look, and now, years out of high school, it seemed a hundred times worse.
The memory of J.J.’s hot kiss swept over Sherry again, a wave of excitement that left her slightly breathless. Did he kiss Caroline the same way? Did Caroline possess these feelings?
Kathy and Caroline stood in the center aisle as the church emptied toward the stairways on either side of the main altar. Sherry edged her way to the side aisle and walked quickly downstairs, her skin prickling as she imagined the two women watching her departure.
A cup of punch and I’m out of here.
“Sherry!” Summer caught sight of her just as she reached the stairs. “Wait for me!”
“Sure,” Sherry agreed. Her eyes met J.J.’s for one brief millisecond, but it was enough to send her pulse skyrocketing. She knew he was thinking about the kiss, too; she could read it in his tense expression.
Inwardly groaning, she took a deep breath and fought hard to tamp down these feelings — feelings she shouldn’t have for Caroline Newsmiths’s fiancé. Feelings she shouldn’t have — period.
Downstairs, she suffered through endless small talk until the wedding party joined the group. The ritual cake cutting and reception line felt like an excruciating wait. Twisting the handle on her cup of punch and trying, unsuccessfully, to look inconspicuous, she nearly choked when J.J. detached himself from the group and walked straight toward her.
“Matt’s got studded tires. He said he’d drop us off at my place and we can figure out how to rescue our cars.”
“Shouldn’t we wait by the cars?” Sherry suggested.
“And freeze to death?”
“What about — Caroline?”
“What about her?”
Sherry shot him a cool look.
“She came by cab, and she’s going back with Ryan and Kathy.” J.J. clearly didn’t want to talk about her. It bothered Sherry deeply, because she felt that old, familiar sensation of somehow being the “other woman,” the secret affair, the “not good enough” girl.
But who was she kidding? She needed time alone with him to have their “talk,” and this was her opportunity. What Caroline would think of it was not Sherry’s problem. As soon as J.J. learned he had a daughter, the situation would be so incredibly different that no one would give a damn about who’d left with whom anyway.
“All right,” Sherry murmured with a taut swallow. He nodded a goodbye then, to return to his best-man duties. At the same moment Summer grabbed her arm and Sherry was introduced to her husband and two bright, redheaded children. One, a boy, was just a few years younger than Mandy. His grin was huge and he shook Sherry’s hand vehemently, as if the harder the shake, the better the greeting. Summer’s little daughter had no front teeth, and she smiled as widely as her brother. A pang shot through Sherry as she thought about Mandy’s sober, almost angry persona.
But I have a chance now to make things better for both of us. A real chance.
“So, what’s the deal with you and J.J.?” Summer asked.
“What do you mean?”
“He can’t take his eyes off you, and you’re just as bad.”
“That’s not true.” Sherry inwardly squirmed with embarrassment.
“Oh, come on. Clue me in. I’ve only got a few hours to catch up on all this stuff, then we’ve got to hit the road for home. I deserve all the dirt.”
“There is no dirt.”
“Bullshit. There’s dirt. You just happened to appear back in town a few weeks before Rox’s wedding, looking like a million bucks, I might add. Except you’re kinda wet right now,” she added. “Like J.J. What’s up between you two?”
“I haven’t seen him since I left school. And it’s ‘Jake’ now, or so I’ve been told.”
“Whatever his name is, he can’t help staring at you every free moment. See that? He’s looking out of the corner of his eye right now.”
“Stop!” Sherry laughed.
“Everybody’s thinking it. I just say it.”
“I came to town to set some things right,” Sherry said. “One of those things that needs to be set right has to do with J.J. — Jake.”
“Hmm.” Summer looked thoughtful. “I always thought you really loved him.”
“I was a teenager,” she stressed.
“Do you know the things we find attractive in a person never change? I read this article about it. The reasons you’re drawn to someone are the same throughout your life. So, someone you loved in high school is someone you’re likely to love when you’re older.”
“High school romances don’t last.”
“Some do.”
“People mature. They change. It doesn’t last.”
“Who’re you trying to convince?”
“I know I was attracted to J.J. because he was such a big deal. Mr. Quarterback, Mr. Popularity, Mr. Everything. I was shallow, I admit it.”
Summer threw her head back and laughed. Eyes twinkling, she declared, “That wasn’t why you liked him. You liked him in spite of all that! This is Summer you’re talking to. I know you.”
Sherry was about to refute everything she’d said but the words shriveled in her throat when Caroline suddenly broke from her tight group of friends and approached Summer. Sherry stepped slightly away, but it was Sherry Caroline apparently had her in her line of sight because she ignored Summer completely, her clear blue eyes cautious but determined. Summer’s red brows lifted and she gave Sherry an “Uh-oh” look from behind Caroline’s right shoulder.
“I didn’t really get a chance to talk to you the other day,” Caroline began. “It’s been such a long time.”
“Years,” Sherry agreed.
“I think having you around has thrown Patrice for a loop,” Caroline said, smiling. “But she’s always overreacted where Jake’s concerned. I tried to assure her that this wasn’t high school, and there’s no need to worry so much. Jake’s a man now. He makes his own decisions.”
Sherry nodded, wondering where this was going.
“So, how is it, working at Crawfish Delish?” Caroline asked, apparently not as focused as Sherry had originally thought.
“Yesterday was my last day.”
“Oh?” She looked surprised. “Didn’t it work out?”
“It was fine. I’m just almost ready to leave Oceantides.” Sherry didn’t want to talk to her. Caroline’s comment about Patrice had turned up her stress level, reminding Sherry how tenuous her relationship with J.J. was — and how she foolishly wanted it to be stronger.
“You make it sound like you have an agenda.” Caroline lightly touched her lips with her fingertips. Did she know about Mandy now? Sherry wondered. Had Patrice told her? And how would Patrice have done it without throwing herself in a bad light?
“I’ve got to straighten some things out, then I’m history.”
“With Jake?” Caroline asked quickly.
“Umm… yeah,” she admitted, tired of all the deception.
Caroline’s expression changed to one of anxiety if not out-and-out fear. Sherry almost felt sorry for her.
Behind Caroline, Summer cleared her throat and started signaling Sherry frantically. But it was too late. From somewhere behind Sherry’s right shoulder, J.J.’s familiar voice drawled, “So, are you ready to go and get our cars?”
“Cars?” Caroline asked, thinking he was talking to her.
“Sherry and I each drove off the road trying to get here,” Jake explained. “Matt’s ready to take us before he goes to Roxanne’s parents’ house for the reception. Unless you wanted to go there first …?” he asked, turning to Sherry.
“No,” Sherry said instantly, as Caroline drew a sharp breath.
“Well, I’ll see you at the reception later, then,” Caroline told him in a voice that brooked no argument, but the look on J.J.’s face suggested she might not see him there at all.
In the front seat of the tow truck, the radio blasting a
way as the driver whistled tunelessly, Sherry glued her eyes to the companion tow truck leading the way, the one that had dragged J.J.’s car from the ditch and would be hauling it into town. Matt had driven her and J.J. to their vehicles to wait for the tow trucks, and now the two truck drivers were taking she and J.J. to his condo before hauling their cars to the auto body shop.
Through the truck’s window, Sherry could see J.J.’s shoulders and the back of his head. She knew without a doubt that neither one of them would make the reception. This was the time for her revelation.
As the two trucks and their sad-looking fender-mangled cargo headed toward J.J.’s beach condo, Sherry made another decision: no more kisses; no more fleeting dreams; no more nostalgia.
Just the truth. It was all she could afford to give.
But once she and J.J. were both unloaded and the twin trucks had headed away, she found that she was as tongue-tied as when he had confronted her at the wedding reception.
“You look like you could use a drink,” he said thoughtfully, leading the way inside.
She walked on legs that felt loose and unattached as she followed him through the front door and down a short, wood paneled hall to a room with thick cream carpet and a fir-beamed ceiling. A river-rock fireplace climbed up one wall and Japanese glass floats in shades of aquamarine and royal blue filled a wicker basket on the hearth. Treasures from J.J.’s youth, Sherry thought with a pang. She walked straight to them and cradled one between her palms.
Her heart beat heavily. She heard the clink of a bottle against glass and then J.J. was offering a goblet of dark red Burgundy that glinted seductively in the soft lamplight.
Sherry reluctantly accepted the drink, took a swallow, then held her breath for as long as she could. J.J. stood nearby, neither moving away nor coming any closer. With an effort, she lifted her chin.
