A Little Bit of Déjà Vu

by Laurie Kellogg

  But inasmuch as he could forgive her for rejecting him in favor of Dan Bradford, he still hated her for aborting their baby. At least Roxanne had been worried about birth defects. How could he feel such tenderness toward a woman who’d rid herself of his child for no good reason?

  Was it possible he was falling in love with Maggie?

  God, no. He couldn’t let that happen.

  ~~~

  Just after dawn, Margie snuggled deeper into the strong arms holding her and breathed in their masculine scent. Masculine—as in male?

  She popped her eyes open and stared at Jake. Snapping them closed again, she rolled to her back and flung her forearm over her face, moaning. “I don’t believe this.”

  He pulled her closer and mumbled, “You don’t believe what?”

  “That I slept with you.”

  Stretching through a wide yawn, he opened his eyes. “We didn’t just sleep, Rosebud.” He rolled onto his stomach and leaned on his forearms. “Or don’t you remember making love with me? We didn’t have that much to drink last ni—”

  “Yes, unfortunately I do recall it.” Every detail. Her cheeks flamed. “If I didn’t, I could claim temporary insanity or mental incompetence.”

  “Then you should also remember how much you enjoyed it. Both times.”

  She’d liked it so much it scared her. She’d always thought booze was supposed to deaden the senses, not heightened them. If a few drinks could make sex feel like that for her, she was in serious danger of becoming an alcoholic.

  “Oh? Did I enjoy it?” she asked in an indifferent tone.

  Grabbing her by the chin, he stared into her eyes. “You know damn well you did, so don’t try to deny it. Otherwise....” His mouth curled in a slow grin. “I may have to quote a few lines from the rave reviews I got or, better still, refresh your memory.” He twirled a strand of her hair around one of his fingers and chuckled. “I guarantee I’ll have you ready to faint again in seconds.”

  Her hand itched to slap the smug smile off his face. “You can’t believe everything a person says when they’ve been drinking.”

  “Maybe not. But those five rather loud orgasms you had support my claim.”

  “You are such an egotist. The champagne was what did it for me—not you. You could’ve simply shaken the bed, and I would’ve come. I’m just sorry I never realized the kind of effect that alcohol has on my sex life while Dan was alive. I would’ve taken up drinking.”

  “You think a few glasses of champagne did that?” He sputtered and moved over her. “Would you like me to prove otherwise now that you’re completely sober?”

  “Forget it.” She shoved him away. “Now please turn your back while I get up.”

  He leaned back against the pillows and crossed his arms. “Why should I? I had an up-close, very intimate view of your, uhh....feminine charms last night. In fact, I did a lot more than just look at them.”

  The man was insufferable.

  Sliding off the bed, she dragged the sheet off him and wound it around herself. Seeing his magnificent naked body stretched out in all its glory at full mast was worse than if she’d let him get a gander of her.

  She kept her gaze averted and wandered through the house, gathering up her clothing. After locking herself inside the bathroom, she stared at her shredded underpants and swallowed hard. She’d forgotten he’d ripped them off her and how much his impatience had aroused her.

  When she returned to the bedroom, Jake was pulling on a pair of boxer briefs. He glanced at the torn panties in her hand and took them from her. “I’m sorry about these.”

  “I just want to forget last night ever happened, okay?” She snatched her underwear back.

  “If you think you can.” He moistened his lips, and his slumberous gaze dropped to her mouth and lingered. “I know I sure as hell won’t be able to.”

  He wasn’t the only one.

  “As long as our kids are married, we’re stuck with each other,” she said. “So let’s try to make the best of things.”

  “I thought that was what we’d been doing.” He smirked.

  “You are the most obnoxious man I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing.” She huffed. “Would you please take me home now?”

  He dragged on his jeans and tugged a black T-shirt over his head. “Don’t you want some breakfast first? I may not be much of a chef at dinnertime, but my son thinks my pancakes and omelets are topnotch. And when it comes to flapjacks, Alex is a connoisseur.”

  The thought of piping hot pancakes drenched with melted butter and thick warm syrup started her belly grumbling as loudly as a mob of sugar-addicts on the Atkin’s diet. He glanced down at her traitorous stomach and lifted one of his cocky eyebrows. “It sounds as if your belly would like to stay.”

  She’d rather starve than sit across the table from Jake’s smug, I’m-a-stud-and-you-know-it smile. “My stomach hasn’t a lick of sense. The rest of me wants to go home.”

  “Really?” He cupped her breast in one hand while slipping the other one under her skirt and caressing her bare bottom. “I think a few of your other parts might disagree, too.”

  The previous night proved the body parts in question had even worse judgment than her stomach. “Too bad.” She shoved his hands away. “In this case, the feet rule.”

  “Okay.” He chuckled. “Would it help if I throw in a foot massage?”

  ~~~

  Fifteen minutes later, Margie breathed a sigh of relief after Jake swung the Aston Martin into the parking space in front of her condo. She flung the door open before the car came to a full stop. He reached across the console and grabbed her wrist, preventing her from getting out. “Would you like to come for dinner on Tuesday and welcome the kids home?”

  “I don’t think that’s such a great idea. Why don’t you just ask them to stop by and see me for a while?”

  His mouth tightened into a thin line as he released her arm. “Okay. It’s probably better if we see as little of each other as possible since I seem to have so much trouble keeping my hands off you.”

  It might not feel better, but at least her heart wouldn’t get broken. And after witnessing the tenderness between Jake and his ex-wife, there wasn’t a doubt that his relationship with Margie was all about sex, and he’d eventually hurt her again.

  After a hot shower and a bowl of cereal, she spent the afternoon cleaning the condo and preparing lessons for Simon. He was scheduled to start his tutoring sessions with her on Monday. By seven o’clock that evening, she swore she’d go mad from the deafening quiet. Who would’ve thought she’d ever miss Emma’s stereo blasting?

  To drown out the silence, Margie flipped on the television and scarfed down an entire box of Thin Mint Girl Scout cookies for dinner. When she caught herself doing the newspaper’s crossword puzzle, she threw the pencil down. The next thing she knew, she’d be four hundred pounds, adopting a litter of kittens, and taking up frustrating hobbies like jigsaw puzzles or embroidery. She had to find something that would give her future some meaning.

  At ten o’clock, she climbed into bed and snapped off the light. As she snuggled into her pillow, the phone rang.

  “Hi, Maggie.” Her heart fluttered at the sound of Jake’s voice. “Before I took you home this morning, I meant to ask you if you wanted some of the leftovers the caterer stuck in the fridge. There’s quite a bit of food left.”

  Even as fattening as the chicken cordon bleu or manicotti were, they still would’ve been better for her than the box of cookies she’d inhaled.

  “As a matter of fact, if you have more than you can eat, I wouldn’t mind some.” She hated to cook for just herself.

  “I’ll drop some off tomorrow. Will you be home in the afternoon?”

  “Yes, Simon’s coming then.”

  The line went silent for several moments before Jake spoke again in a raw husky voice. “I know you regret what happened, but I don’t. You gave me a lot of pleasure. Thank you.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and
swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I’m glad I could be of service.”

  “Maggie, please don’t do that. I didn’t treat you like a whore, and I don’t appreciate you insinuating I did.”

  No, he hadn’t. He’d held her in his arms and whispered sweet words in her ear, and she’d woken up and treated him as if he’d attacked her. “I’m sorry. I was really depressed after Emma and Alex left. Thank you for being there for me.”

  “Anytime, Rosebud. Call me whenever you get lonely.”

  “Thanks, but I think I’ll get a couple of cats first.” She hung up the phone and buried her face in her pillow, letting her tears flow. What a fool she’d been to sleep with him. She’d just made things harder for herself.

  Chapter 14

  The following afternoon, Simon arrived at Margie’s right on time. They sat at her dining room table to work. At four o’clock, she closed the book they were reading. “I think you’ve had about enough today. You’re finally making some progress.”

  Simon grinned. “I’m really trying, Mrs. B. Coach says if I don’t work on this at home, he won’t consider me for the varsity team this fall—even if I’m good enough to make the cut.”

  “That’s because he knows it’s more important for you to be able to read than to throw a football. If you ever want to get anywhere in the sport, Simon, you have to be able to handle college level courses. The NFL doesn’t draft out of high schools.”

  The doorbell rang, and she discovered Jake waiting on the step with a full grocery bag.

  “Thanks. Come on in.” She took the brown paper sack and waved toward her pupil. “Simon’s reading is really starting to improve. He’s handling his diphthongs much better.”

  Jake shook his head in confusion. “Dip-what?”

  “Diphthong. It’s a speech glide that begins with one vowel and gradually changes to another vowel within the same syllable, such as the oi in boil.”

  His mouth formed an O as he nodded.

  She hauled the bulging grocery bag into the kitchen. It felt as if Jake had brought enough food to feed her for two weeks. She’d have to freeze some of it.

  On top of the food was another smaller bag from Victoria’s Secret. She pulled out five pair of skimpy panties in silk, satin, and lace and let out an irritated huff as she shoved them back in the bag.

  Once she unloaded the leftovers into her refrigerator, she picked up the package containing the underwear and stormed into the living room. Jake was telling Simon about one of his pro ballgames. He mussed the teen’s blond hair. “I’ll see you tomorrow at my house for a run, right?”

  “I’ll be there at nine, Coach.” Simon waved to Margie as he pulled the door open. “Thanks a lot, Mrs. B. I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

  As soon as Simon left, she thrust the lingerie bag at Jake’s chest. “What do you call these if not payment for my services?”

  His mouth dropped open for a wordless moment while he fished a powder blue pair from the bag and held them up. “How about compensation for ruining your panties? I told you I’d buy you new ones.”

  “Five pair?”

  A cynical snort escaped him. “Trust me, a good hooker costs a helluva lot more than a few pieces of lingerie. What I shelled out wouldn’t get me near the end zone with a call girl of your caliber, let alone a touchdown with an extra point.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “You know, for a man who’s practically got his doctorate in psychology, you can be quite boorish.”

  He rubbed the soft satin fabric against her cheek and whispered, “I was paying you a compliment, Rosebud. You have no idea how incredible you are in the sack, do you?”

  Her face flooded with heat under his ardent gaze.

  “The pleasure you gave me was, as they say....priceless.”

  She spun away from him. “You sound like a darn credit card commercial.”

  “Well, I admit I did charge the panties. If you don’t like them, I’ll return them.”

  She bit her lip, ashamed of her lack of gratitude. Forcing herself to choke down her pride, she took the bag back. “I’m sorry. They’re very pretty. Thank you.”

  He sank onto the sofa and continued to gaze at her while she stared back uncomfortably. He’d been nice enough to bring the food over and very generous in replacing her underpants. She couldn’t just ask him to leave.

  “Would you like a glass of iced tea?”

  “That sounds great.” He followed her into the kitchen, and after she filled two glasses, he carried the tumblers into the living room. “You’ve never told me,” he said as he settled back on the sofa. “What made you decide to be a reading teacher?”

  Margie released a breath of relief, thankful he’d chosen something other than their relationship to talk about. “I had a friend in grammar school who was a lot like Simon—smart enough to slide by without anyone noticing she couldn’t read.”

  She propped her bare feet up on the coffee table and told him how insecure and dumb Jillian had felt. “I read her the articles I’d found on learning disabilities, and once she understood that some kids simply perceive the world more three dimensionally than others, she was a different person. I encouraged her to ask the school for help, and she ended up as Valedictorian of my graduating class. That’s when I knew I wanted to spend my life proving to kids they aren’t stupid.”

  Jake stayed for two hours, telling her funny stories from his years of football and teaching. Margie had skipped lunch, so by six-thirty, her stomach began to rumble. When it didn’t look as if Jake would leave anytime soon, she gave up waiting and invited him to share some of the leftovers he’d brought.

  Once they finished eating, he wandered back into her living room and parked himself in Dan’s recliner as if he spent every evening there. “The Green Mile is on in another hour. How about we watch it together?”

  She’d loved Stephen King’s book, and all week, she’d been eagerly anticipating seeing the movie she’d never gotten around to renting. “Actually, I’d planned to do some reading tonight,” she lied.

  “Okay.” He shrugged and flipped on the television anyway. “I’ll keep the volume down. You read while I watch.”

  She flopped on the sofa and rolled her eyes as she buried her nose in her book. What was the use of arguing? He was like a nasty case of poison ivy. The more she scratched it, the longer it stuck around.

  Despite her intention to ignore him, she couldn’t keep her eyes on her book, so she spent the next forty-five minutes trying to beat him to the answers through two game shows.

  When the movie finally started, Jake got up and turned off all the lights. Rather than returning to his seat in the recliner, he plopped down next to her on the couch, propped his stockinged feet on the coffee table next to hers, and pulled her into the crook of his shoulder.

  Halfway through the movie, he swung his legs around and stretched out on the sofa with his head in Margie’s lap. Her resolve to ignore him crumbled when she caught herself absently threading her fingers through his hair. She yanked her hand back. Less than five minutes later, her hand developed a mind of its own and resumed stroking his head.

  Shortly before the final credits rolled on the screen, Jake’s breathing deepened to a slow, heavy rhythm. She gently shook him but got no response other than a few loud snuffles and lot of mumbling about end runs and blocking.

  She slipped out from under him, covered him with an afghan, and watched him sleep for several minutes. At one point, she could’ve sworn he moaned her name.

  She had to admit she’d had a wonderful time with Jake that evening. It left her longing for the quiet nights she’d spent cuddling with Dan in front of the TV—and dreading her lonely future.

  So much for their plan to see as little of each other as possible.

  ~~~

  Jake rolled over on the narrow sofa and caught himself as he almost fell on the floor. He groaned, stretching while he rubbed his aching back. His spinal injury had left him unable to sleep comfortably on a
nything but an extra firm mattress.

  He glanced at his watch. Two a.m. Only a fool would try to drive home so groggy. He hauled himself to his feet and wandered down the hall to Emma’s bedroom. Gazing at the twin bed, he tried to imagine his six-foot-three son sharing it every night with Emma. Alex’s feet had to have hung off. And here Jake had blamed his son’s exhaustion on his nocturnal sexcapades.

  Maybe the bed had simply been too damn cramped for Alex. Then again, at twenty-three, a lack of space hadn’t stopped Jake from sharing a bed exactly that size with Maggie.

  He rolled his eyes and snorted. “Youth.”

  Silently, he crept down the hall to Maggie’s room and stripped off his clothes. Her queen-size bed wasn’t as long as his California king, but it was a damn sight better than a twin.

  He slid under the sheet with her and pulled her back against his chest, rubbing his face in her silky hair. He breathed in her sweet scent, pressing his arousal to her satin covered behind. Cupping her breast in his palm, he smirked when her nipple instantly popped up under his thumb.

  The booze had aroused her, huh? He’d love to see how she would respond to him without most of a bottle of champagne dulling her senses.

  ~~~

  Margie stretched and rolled to the opposite side of the bed. She frowned and sniffed the pillow. She was really losing it. Her dreams of Jake had been so vivid she’d actually imagined his scent.

  She flipped back the covers and padded barefoot into the bathroom for a hot shower. Afterward, she tugged on a pair of white denim shorts and a pink tank top. Pulling the covers up on the bed, she gasped as her gaze locked on a couple of short dark hairs lying on the bright white pillowcase, proving she hadn’t dreamed him holding her last night. The man took first prize in audacity.

  Fuming, she stomped down the hall to the kitchen and flipped through her phone directory. With her fingers poised to punch out his number, she noticed a wax-coated bag sitting on the work island and a note propped against it. She hung up the receiver to read it.

  Rosebud,

  Thank you for another spectacular evening. I’m sorry I fell asleep last night.