Countdown To A Kiss A New Years Eve Anthology

by Colleen Gleason

What Are You Doing New Year's Eve? Chapter Eight

  New Year's Eve

  Four years ago

  "This was a great idea, Tess," said Grat. "I've been wanting to see Iron Man, but with two kids it's a little hard to get out of the house. "

  "My pleasure," she replied, gesturing them into the home theater in her parents' basement. "Get comfortable. We've got all the leftover beer and wine-no champagne though-and some food. Wilder, you open a few bottles. Cara, can you get the plates? They're in the cupboard over there. And napkins too. Grat, some of us-like me-will want blankets. They're in the trunk by the wall. Gracie, here's the DVD. Brooks, can you light the fire? It's real wood, so you might have to use your Boy Scout skills instead of flipping a switch. "

  The annual Devine-Kampmueller bash had ended unusually early due to a widespread case of the flu throughout Henderson. The few people who'd actually made it to the party had cleared out shortly after midnight, either because their children were home sick, they were getting sick or had just gotten over being sick, or because it simply wound down early. Even Belly wasn't feeling well and had slipped off to bed right away.

  So Tess had invited a group of friends over to watch Iron Man and whatever other movies they could get to.

  "Too bad Barry had to miss the party," Grace said when she handed her the DVD. "But at least you got to show off your new rock tonight. "

  Tess lifted her hand, loving the way the low lights in the room caught at the sparkles of the three-carat diamond. "Poor guy. He was so sick he couldn't even make his flight. If I'd known, I would have just stayed instead of flying down here so early. Go put that disk in, and let's get started. You know how much I love Robert Downey, Jr. "

  They drank beer and wine and watched Iron Man, then someone put in Love, Actually (over which the guys groaned and the gals sighed) and by then, it was past four. And everyone had had more than enough to drink.

  "We'd better hit the road," Grat said, helping Cara to her feet. "Even though our babysitter is staying the night, I'm done. I haven't been up this late since college. You okay to drive, honey, because I'm sure not. "

  Grace yawned. "I'm off to bed too. I'll help clean up in the morning, Tess. "

  "See you all tomorrow. You'll be over to watch the game, right?" said Brooks.

  "You mean later today," Tess replied, realizing the room was wavering a little. "Yes, we wouldn't miss game day at the Bennetts'!" Whew. That last glass of wine really did me in. But the warmth of a perfect buzz filtered through her and she was still wide awake-thanks to her nocturnal schedule back home.

  Grace tromped up the stairs to say goodbye to Brooks and the Grathwolds, and Tess turned to put a few things away.

  "Hey Wilder. Don't tell me you want me to put in another chick flick. I've got a bunch of them," she teased. "We could do The Sound of Music or Pride & Prejudice. Or how about The Ugly Truth. That'd be perfect for you. "

  "No thanks. " He was gathering up plates and cups and setting them on the counter. "But I don't think I'd better drive tonight. Can I crash here?"

  "Definitely. " Tess wandered over and poured herself another glass of wine. "I'm not ready to go to bed yet myself, but I'm not interested in another movie. Want something?"

  There was a pregnant pause that had her glancing up at him when he didn't immediately reply, then he said, "A beer. Thanks. "

  By the time she got the beer opened, he'd settled on the floor in front of the fire, leaning back against a heavy coffee table, his feet flat on the ground. The plush cream-colored rug was inviting, and Tess sank down next to him as she handed over the beer.

  "I miss having a real fire," he commented. "Mom's got a gas fireplace, but there's nothing like the smell of real wood burning. "

  "Feels a little weird to have one when it's so warm out, but a fire says the holidays to me," Tess replied. "And it's a little chilly down here. "

  She stretched out her legs with a soft groan, pointing her bare feet toward the fire. Because it was her house, she'd had the luxury of changing into yoga pants and a t-shirt, but Wilder was still in his tux. He'd taken off his coat and tie and rolled up his sleeves. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone too, showing a hint of the silver chain from his dog tags in a teasing vee of dark hair.

  Tess looked away from that tantalizing sight and sipped her wine. "So basic training is done and now you're being sent to Arizona. Any chance you might end up. . . overseas?"

  "A very good chance," he replied in that rumbly drawl. It always snaked up her spine like a delicious little stroke. "Because I've been in the National Guard since high school, I'm more likely to be deployed to a. . . less friendly place. "

  "Be safe, Johnny Wilder," she said, nudging him companionably with her elbow. She felt mellow, warm, soft. . . and the room was like a nice little cocoon, pressing down on her.

  "I intend to. " He rose and she watched him walk a little unsteadily across the room.

  His hair was short, buzzed in military style, and he held himself differently too. The severe cut made him look so very serious and mature, especially with his dark brows and very square jaw. Tess drew in a shaky breath. She'd stopped thinking of Johnny Wilder as a too-young boy years ago.

  Her insides fluttered a little when she remembered the one kiss they'd shared, and the subsequent years of subtle awareness between them. Or at least, the subtle awareness she had for him. Definite animal attraction on her part. But she knew better than to let herself get interested in Wilder. He got around quite a bit (which was why she always ragged on him about wearing a condom), and she had a good idea how his mind worked when it came to women. After all, they'd been discussing his so-called love life for years. The nicest term for him when it came to women was "opportunist. "

  And there'd been the New Year's Eve two years back when they'd both been at the annual shindig with different people. She and Wilder had somehow ended up texting each other harmless, naughty little notes from across the room. She didn't even remember how it started. . . .

  Oh, right. It was after she got up and sang "Santa Baby" with the band, vamping it up with her very best Marilyn Monroe/Madonna impression. She was in a sassy, fuchsia gown and Tess knew she had the attention of pretty much every guy in the room-except for Wilder. He had an arm slung around his date's shoulders, whispering in her ear, making her giggle. Even from the stage, she could see his fingers playing with the ends of her hair and it was kind of sexy. Okay, really sexy.

  Which was why, when she returned to Bill, her date, she was surprised to find a text message on her phone. From Wilder.

  Thought Billy-Bob was gonna have a heart attack when u looked @ him like that. During song. Guy's whipped.

  I do my best, she wrote back, grinning at her phone. Maybe u and Betsy should get a room.

  Been there, done that.

  Hope u weren't bareback, cowboy. Gotta take care of urself. Don't be stupid. World isn't ready for ur offspring!

  Never stupid. U and Billy-Joe look bored. U should get a room.

  Ha. Third date. U know I don't do it on the third date.

  No wonder he looks like that. Guy's messed up.

  Then, a while later after she'd danced crazily with her sisters, sang another song ("I'll Be Home for Christmas") and had more champagne, she received this message:

  Why don't you blow off Jim-Bob and come with me to get some more beer. . . or something.

  What about Betsy?

  What about Betsy? he replied. Non-issue. Let's blow this place. U and me.

  Ha! You'd be so lucky!!

  Just think of what we could do with ur body. And my tongue.

  Even now, Tess remembered the shock of heat and vivid imagery that rushed through her when she saw that response. Whoa. How much had he had to drink? She wasn't sure how to respond, so she sent back a quick LOL after a few minutes. She didn't see Wilder after that-come to think of it, she wasn't even sure he was still at the party when he
sent that last message.

  But the following year-which was last year-she remembered that provocative message. Well, to be honest, she'd thought about it many times over the year. Maybe she should pursue it. She'd always found him sexy as hell. So she texted him the day after Christmas and said, What're u doing New Year's Eve? ;-) Want to go to party w me?

  His response. . . the next day. . . was: Sorry. Got plans.

  So that was that. A whole year of wondering, hoping, waiting. . . fantasizing. And he didn't come to the big party that night either. So apparently, it really had just been talk.

  Now, sitting in her parents' basement in front of the fire, Tess knew any chance she might have had to test out her attraction to Johnny Wilder was gone. She was engaged to be married, and his flirtations had always been just that: spur of the moment titillation. Beer (or wine) goggles.

  Which was why when he turned off the lights, her pulse didn't even spike. She agreed with his implicit opinion: it was too late for bright lights, and the fire was beautiful.

  Wilder settled back on the floor next to her. "Much better," he murmured. The firelight played over his face and warmed her toes and Tess felt soft and mellow.

  "So you're doing really well on Broadway," he said, glancing at her. "That's amazing, Tess. But not really. You've always had it all: looks, talent, drive. I admire that-that you went after what you wanted. "

  "Thanks," she said, staring into her glass. "It's pretty wonderful. I get to do something I love to do for a living. There aren't many people who do. "

  "No. "

  "But there are times when. . . well, it feels. . . oh, I don't know. . . . " Tess sipped, tasting the full-bodied wine thoughtfully. "I don't know. " She glanced at him and saw his profile, for he stared straight into the dancing flames. A strong nose and square jaw and full, sensual lips. A small wave of regret washed over her. I'll never kiss him again. I'll never find out. . . what if? Her heart was racing.

  "It feels. . . what?" he asked, low and gritty, still staring at the fire.

  "It's going to sound silly. Or. . . too esoteric or pompous or something. " She gave a little chuckle and bumped his foot with hers. "I've had too much wine and I'm not making any sense. " She slumped down lower against the coffee table. Maybe she'd just go to sleep right here.

  "You can tell me. I'd like to know what's going on in your mind, Tess Devine. "

  She laughed again and elbowed him this time. "Don't tease me. But, fine. Since you insist. I haven't told anyone else this because. . . it'll sound-oh, I don't know-ungrateful is the word. "

  "Can you get to the point?" Gentle exasperation filled his voice. "Just say it. "

  "Well, being onstage is wonderful. A dream come true. But theater is so. . . superficial. And fake. Everyone's always playacting-onstage and elsewhere. And it's. . . cutthroat. Sometimes. At least, it feels to me. Like there's no real purpose for it. No benefit to mankind, no altruistic aspect. Not like-you know-joining the service. Serving your country. All I do is stand up there and help people waste a couple hours of their time. "

  Tess looked at him, realizing sharply that he could leave. . . be shipped out. . . and she might never see him again. He could be sent off to the Middle East, and the worst could happen.

  "Nothing wrong with a little entertainment," he murmured. "Everyone needs a laugh, or a way to get their mind off maybe something bad happening in their lives. You give people an escape. That's important too. "

  "I told you it would sound stupid," she sighed. "And ungrateful. "

  "So you're getting married," he said after a short silence. His voice was so low she could hardly hear it over the snapping of the fire.

  "Yes. A year from now. Maybe two, depending how quickly we can get things together. We thought it would be neat to get married on New Year's Eve. Oh, but you've met him. I forgot. At your sister's wedding last summer. "

  "Yep. I met him. Barry. " There was a tone to his voice. "I don't think you should marry him, Tess. "

  "Why not? You think I'm too young?" Her short chuckle was sort of choked off because of the way she was slumped down. "I'm twenty-six. Great age to get married. "

  "Yeah. That's it. You're too young. " He gave a short, gritty laugh and drank from his beer.

  "I'm in love with you. "

  Tess blinked. Her whole body went still. . . inside and out. She dared not breathe. Had she just heard what she thought she heard? Or was it the wine and the lateness of the night and the fact that his voice was so low she could hardly discern what he was saying? She really didn't know. Her mind was swimming, her body was alive and filled with odd, rocketing sensations and she tried, tried, to re-imagine the moment. . . the words he'd muttered.

  "What did you say?" she breathed after a moment.

  "Hm?" He was staring into the fire.

  Her heart was pounding. Stop it. You didn't hear him right. Wishful thinking, maybe? No, Tess, every man doesn't have to fall for you. Even one you've wanted for a long time.

  And you're engaged to Barry, whom you love. Don't be stupid.

  "I. . . nothing. " She finished the last of her wine. It was time for bed. She was hearing things-things she didn't want to hear.

  "Do you have any idea how intimidating you are?"

  "Wh-what?" Again she rolled her head along the edge of the coffee table to look at him. She was so confused.

  "Makes it hard for a guy to. . . . " His laugh was short and self-deprecating. "I've been trying to catch you between boyfriends for years. Every single New Year's Eve. And now you're getting married. We could have had a really good time, Tess. You and me. It would have been. . . amazing. "

  Suddenly she was rigid all over. Very nearly holding her breath. Because she knew if he touched her. . . reached for her-maybe even looked at her-she'd be done. That'd be it. She'd be breaking her vows before she even took them. Yet she fairly quivered with anticipation and attraction.

  Johnny, why didn't you tell me this before? she wanted to say. Why did you wait till I found someone? It's too late.

  She couldn't think of any response that wouldn't sound desperate or suggestive or sharp. He was drunk. She was well past tipsy. The chemistry between them blazed.

  Anything she said could lead to something she'd regret in the morning.

  They sat in silence for a long time, staring at the fire. And sometime later, she fell asleep.