Romance on Mountain View Road

by Sheila Roberts

  “I meant to,” she said, still leafing through the book. “You know, I would have noticed all this water damage. It looks like someone dropped it in a sink or something.”

  Or something. “Jules, you’ve got to back stuff up,” Jonathan said, steering the conversation back into safer territory.

  “But you can recover it, right?”

  “Probably,” he admitted. “Still, you should make a habit of backing up anything you don’t want to lose.”

  “I know. And I will from now on,” she promised, pulling up a chair next to him. “It’s funny about this book,” she said as he began his computer detective work. “It was on top of the pile last week, and then I went to read it and it wasn’t.”

  “You should put your books away.” Oh, man. Why couldn’t she drop the subject already?

  “What, or Neil will get into them?” A moment of silence was followed by, “Those were my library sale books.”

  He shrugged and kept his gaze glued to her computer screen. He could feel sweat beading on his brow.

  “You were over here for dinner the day after the book sale.”

  “Jules, I’m trying to concentrate here.”

  “And then, just a few days after that, I went to get this off the pile and it was gone,” she finished thoughtfully.

  He could feel her eyes burning into him.

  “Did you take my book?”

  He cast about desperately for some plausible answer.

  Before he could come up with one, she pointed an accusing finger at him. “You did!”

  “No,” he lied, searching for his poker face.

  “Oh, yes, you did, and after all that talk about how dumb romance novels are.”

  “I—” He stopped there. How to explain this?

  “Why were you reading my book?”

  “I just thought I’d check it out. Okay?”

  “I’m not buying that.”

  “I’m trying to get your file here,” he said. And I can’t lie and find your lost file at the same time.

  “Jonathan, you may as well tell me. I’m gonna bug you until you do.”

  “There’s nothing to tell.” At least not to his sister.

  “Well, could you tell me what happened to it?”

  He frowned. “I accidentally dropped it.”

  “In the sink?”

  “Uh, in the toilet.”

  “Eew.” She let go of the book and this time the tycoon landed on carpet.

  “Don’t worry. It doesn’t have any germs on it.”

  “I doubt that,” she said, disgusted.

  “I’ll buy you a new one,” he promised. If he’d done that in the first place, he might’ve gotten away clean with no one the wiser. Dumb, Jonathan. How could he be so good at math and computers and so stupid at...life?

  She was silent again, but only for a few seconds. “Why would you be interested in romance novels all of a sudden?” she mused.

  “I’m not. I just thought I’d give one a try. That’s all...” ...you need to know.

  “You could’ve asked me. I’d have lent it to you. In fact, if you want to read a good story, let me give you the Vanessa Valentine I got.”

  “I already checked it out.” Crap! Had he really said that? “Jules, I can’t concentrate on retrieving your file with you talking.”

  “Never mind the file. What’s going on?”

  He frowned at her. “I’m doing some research. Okay?”

  “Research on what? Are you going to write a romance novel?”

  “No,” he said testily.

  “Then what?”

  “I just... Never mind.”

  She fell silent. Of course, that didn’t mean she’d abandoned the subject. It only meant she was thinking of a new way to wrangle the information out of him.

  “Okay, got it,” he said.

  “Thank you. You’re amazing.”

  “That’s me,” he agreed. And now he was going to beat it before Juliet began another round of twenty questions. He started to get up.

  She grabbed his arm. “Not so fast. Tell me what’s going on. I’ll find out, anyway.”

  “There’s nothing going on,” he insisted. “Come on, Jules, let go of my arm.”

  “Uh-uh. Tell me.”

  He glared at her. “Stop being so damned nosy.”

  “I’m your sister. I’m supposed to be nosy. If you don’t ’fess up I’ll tell everyone you’re reading my romance novels.”

  She would have, back when they were kids. Now that they were grown-ups, it was nothing more than an empty threat because she’d never deliberately embarrass him. “Go ahead.”

  She dropped her hand. “You know I won’t. I just wish you’d fill me in on what’s going on. I tell you everything.”

  “That’s because you’re a woman. Guys don’t talk about stuff.”

  “Maybe you should. Maybe I could help with...whatever. Did you ever stop to think of that?”

  She was going to bug him until she drove him insane. “It’s no big deal. I just thought—” Oh, this was so pathetic and awkward. “I thought it would be interesting to see how women think.” There. Surely that would be enough information to satisfy her.

  “I could have told you that.”

  “Some things a guy doesn’t need to ask his little sister.”

  “And why this sudden need to know how women think?” She gasped in delight. “You’re seeing someone!” She snapped her fingers. “That cute new librarian.”

  Great. Now they were going to play twenty questions about his love life. “No.”

  “Then why— Wait a minute. I ran into Tina Swift at Bavarian Brews the other day. You have a high school reunion coming up, don’t you?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “So does that have anything to do with you snitching my book?”

  “Not unless I’m a tycoon.”

  She was relentless. “Neil told me you joined the gym.” She studied him, making him squirm. “Getting buff, reading romance novels...”

  He didn’t like the knowing look that landed on her face.

  “Now I get it. This has to do with someone who’s coming to the reunion, doesn’t it?”

  “If you ask me one more question, I’m never working on your computer again.”

  “I don’t need to. I remember who you liked when we were kids.” She regarded him, her expression a mixture of pity and exasperation. “Jonathan, please tell me I’m imagining things.”

  “You’re imagining things.”

  She frowned. “Are you going to stay single all your life just hoping that one day Lissa Castle will fall madly in love with you?”

  That made him sound like such a loser.

  Juliet heaved a long-suffering sigh. “She’s never wanted to be anything more than friends with you, Jonathan.”

  “Thanks for the reminder,” he muttered.

  Juliet laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  “Let me worry about that,” he said grumpily.

  “I thought you were over her.”

  He was. For a while. He shrugged.

  Juliet fell silent again.

  Good. Maybe she’d finally drop the subject.

  It stayed dropped for about ten seconds. Then she picked it up again. “So what are you doing to get ready for the reunion?”

  He was not discussing this with her.

  It didn’t seem to matter because she was discussing it with him. “You need new clothes.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  “And a better haircut.”

  He frowned. “I don’t remember asking your advice.”

  “Big brother, you need it. Let’s go s
hopping next week.”

  “I can do my own shopping.”

  “No, you can’t. Come on. It’ll be fun.”

  Clothes-shopping was only fun for women.

  “So when do you want to go?”

  She was going to annoy him until he caved. It was her modus operandi. “August.” By then he’d need a bigger shirt, and he could probably use some help picking one out.

  “Oh, you’re right,” she said as if she knew what he was thinking. “Everything will be on sale by August. Isn’t that when the reunion is? Tina’s already dieting.”

  Women were always dieting, whether they needed to lose weight or not.

  “Well, when you’re ready, you have to take me with you,” Juliet said. “If you’re going to make an impression, you need someone besides your nerdy friends to help you.”

  She was probably right. He nodded. Okay, this embarrassing discussion was done. He got up and started to leave.

  “What else are you doing to get ready?” she asked, following him down the hallway.

  Or not. “Nothing I need help with.”

  “You have to learn to dance.”

  “Jules,” he protested. Next thing he knew, she’d be offering him a dance lesson.

  “I can teach you.”

  “I am not dancing with my sister,” he growled.

  “Oh, yes, you are. Stay for dinner. Afterward I’ll teach you how to do the nightclub two-step. That’s easy, and it’s impressive.”

  Eating his sister’s cooking and having her teach him how to dance—that would be double torture. “I gotta go. I’ve got stuff to do.”

  “Jonathan,” she said sternly. “If you want to impress a woman you need to know how to dance. Women love to dance, and most men are too lame to even try. If you can look good on the dance floor, you’re already way ahead of your competition.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t believe this.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”

  “Well, we don’t have to. You can just stumble along on your own trying to figure out what women want...or you can get help.”

  He had help. He had Vanessa Valentine. “I’m okay, but thanks for the offer,” he said firmly.

  She frowned but gave up pestering him. “Okay, but when you see Lissa Castle dancing with some other man at the reunion, don’t come crying to me.”

  The thought of Lissa Castle dancing with someone else was enough to make a grown man cry. Rather than do that, Jonathan went home and pulled up the latest romance novel he’d downloaded.

  This was a contemporary tale about a man returning to his hometown. He’d left a loser and returned a success—a famous race car driver with money to impress the girl he’d never forgotten. Jonathan could almost relate.

  Halfway into the book, the hero, who must have known Juliet, got the heroine onto the dance floor.

  Joel held out a hand to Leslie. “Dance with me.”

  She wanted to say no, but the look in his eyes demanded she say yes. “I didn’t know you could dance,” she said as he led her onto the floor.

  He smiled down at her. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

  He was right. This was a different man from the one she remembered—strong, forceful. Sexy.

  He moved them through an intricate step and suddenly they were dancing heart to heart. His breath ruffled her hair and she felt the heat of desire deep in her belly. “I think it’s time we took this relationship to a new level,” he murmured.

  “Oh?” Now her heart was beating like crazy.

  “You want it, I want it. For once, let’s not play games.”

  Jonathan read on as Joel moved Leslie from the dance floor to his bed. Whoa, just one dance led to all that? What if Juliet was right?

  He thought back to high school. He’d avoided school dances like the plague. (Maybe it had something to do with way back in middle school, when Lissa had gone to the eighth-grade dance with Danny Popkee—who knew?) He couldn’t dance. He didn’t have the gene for it.

  That night he went to bed and dreamed he was at the Icicle Falls High reunion. All the attendees were dressed to the nines but him. He’d opted for a pair of purple polka dot boxers. While everyone was shaking their booty out on the dance floor, he was pacing along the edge of the crowd, trying to get Lissa’s attention. She was out in the middle of the floor with Rand. He was dressed like a matador and Lissa wore a slinky black dress and was twining her legs all around him.

  At last they finished and when Jonathan went out on the floor to join them, all the faceless onlookers cheered. “Go, Jon,” someone called.

  He strutted up to Lissa in his polka dot boxers, showing off pecs that would have put the Incredible Hulk to shame. Like the hero in the romance novel, Jonathan held out a hand to her and said, “Dance with me.”

  Instead of cooperating like a proper heroine, she cocked an eyebrow. “Do you know how to tango?”

  “Well, no,” he admitted.

  “West Coast swing?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “East Coast?”

  “No.”

  “Any coast?”

  He shook his head. “My sister offered to teach me, but I didn’t take her up on it.”

  “You should have,” she said. “Now take your polka dots somewhere else. I don’t waste my time on men who can’t dance.”

  Suddenly he was no longer in polka dot boxers. He was wearing a clown suit and had a big red nose. Rand reached over and pinched it. “You always were a clown. That’s why I stopped hanging out with you when we hit middle school. That’s why Lissa doesn’t want you.”

  “And you can’t even dance,” she said. “Your sister offered to teach you but would you let her? Noooo.” She gave his red clown nose a pinch, making it honk.

  “I can dance,” he insisted. Next thing he knew, he was on the roof of Icicle Falls High, tap-dancing in his clown outfit. And his entire class was standing below, watching him.

  “Look at that clown,” called Feron Prince. “He thinks he can dance. He should’ve let his sister give him a lesson.”

  Jonathan tapped all the harder, shuffling away in his big, red clown shoes. But then he tripped over one of them and off the roof he sailed, heading for the pavement below. “Lissa!”

  He woke up with a gasp right before he went splat. “It was only a dream,” he told himself.

  But maybe his subconscious was trying to tell him something.

  If he had any doubts left, the email he got the following morning confirmed what his subconscious had said.

  Hi, Jonathan! I guess we’re supposed to send pictures to you for the class reunion website. (Why am I not surprised you’re in charge of that? You always were a tech genius!) Anyway, here’s mine. It was taken at the hot-air balloon festival in Albuquerque. My hair doesn’t look so good, but hey, what does that matter when you’re having fun? Email back and let me know what you’ve been up to. It feels like forever since I’ve seen you.

  Lissa

  That was encouraging, but the P.S. at the end struck fear into his heart. And you better save me a dance Saturday night!

  A dance. With Lissa. Crap! His sister was right. He grabbed his cell phone and called her. “Is that offer of a dance lesson still good?”

  Chapter Nine

  Adam wasn’t giving up. He and Chelsea could work this out. He’d go over to the house after work. No bribes this time, no so-called romantic gestures, just the two of them having a heart-to-heart talk, getting things straight once and for all.

  He pulled up in front of the place and found her out in the yard once more, this time watering the roses. She was talking to some man Adam had never seen before. The stranger looked like he was somewhere in his fo
rties and was wearing cargo shorts and a

  T-shirt. He was short and wiry with a tan, an average face, thinning hair and Ray-Bans propped on his head. Beady eyes. He had beady eyes. Who was this tool and what was he saying to make Chelsea smile?

  Adam got out of the SUV and walked over to where they stood, making sure he sent off intimidating vibes with every step.

  At the sight of him, Chelsea’s smile disappeared. “Adam.”

  “Hi, Chels.” He gave the stranger a tooth-baring smile. “I’m Adam Edwards.”

  “Dennis McDermott,” the man said, and stuck out his hand.

  Adam took it and squeezed. Firmly.

  His rival grimaced.

  “Dennis just moved in next door,” Chelsea explained.

  “Our new neighbor, huh?” Adam said. “Good to meet you.” Not. “Where’d you move from?”

  “Other side of the mountains, Bellevue.”

  Adam nodded and wished old Dennis had stayed on the other side of the mountains. “It’s a long commute.”

  Dennis shrugged. “I work from home.”

  Which meant old Dennis the Menace would be around all the time, popping over for friendly chats with Chelsea.

  “Makes life easy,” Dennis continued.

  It sure made putting the moves on another man’s wife easy. “Yeah, I’ll bet it does.”

  “I can pretty much set my own schedule,” Dennis added.

  Don’t even think of scheduling in my wife. “You got a family?”

  “Not here. I’m divorced. My kids are in college. I’m pretty much on my own,” Dennis said, and smiled at Chelsea.

  Yeah, well, you’re gonna stay that way, pal. “Chels, I need to talk to you.”

  Chelsea frowned. “Now is not a good time.”

  Her putting him down in front of another man made Adam bristle. “This won’t take long,” he said. “Dennis probably has some unpacking to do, anyway, right?”

  “Oh, sure,” Dennis said reluctantly. “Nice talking with you, Chelsea. I’ll be seeing you.”