He waited for the first shot of the game with good-humored interest and growing suspicion.
Beth drew the club back in a textbook swing and connected with the ball’s sweet spot. A perfect hollow crack sounded, and she shaded her eyes with one hand to track the ball’s flight. It sailed in a graceful arc, one hundred and fifty yards at least, before it touched down and rolled on a beeline for the hole. It came to rest almost two hundred yards down the fairway.
Instead of whooping in delight, Beth stood away from the tee and made way for Jack or Mick. She looked as innocent as an altar girl.
Jack belly laughed, impulsively threw his arms around her and swept her in a circle off the ground. “I knew you were a hustler!”
He beamed down at her, his arms locked around her. She stiffened within his embrace at first, but he didn’t let go. With her warm body and the soft press of her breasts against him, he was in no hurry to let her loose. The fresh, sugary scent of her perfume enticed him to bury his nose in her neck. Her sparkling eyes danced with victory, a small, satisfied smile tugged at her full lips, tempting him to taste.
As he stared directly into her green eyes, her body relaxed into the hug, a slight sway toward him, toward more.
“Uh…” She awkwardly pulled back.
Relieved he hadn’t been rash enough to kiss her, Jack grabbed a club and kept his mind on golf. “Where did you learn to play?”
“Actually here. When I was in school. I met Wallace September of my freshman year, and he told me that if I ever wanted to see him on weekends I’d learn to play golf. So I did. I took a lot of lessons and I guess I had a knack for the game. When I started beating Wallace, he refused to play with me.” Beth huffed a laugh. “Ironic, huh?”
“I would have paid money to see you beat that blowhard. I bet his overblown ego couldn’t handle being bested by a girl.”
“Don’t call Wallace names,” she bristled.
He forced a smile. “Sorry,” he said, although he wasn’t sorry in the least.
Jack glanced over at Mick who winked at him, obviously entertained. “You could have warned me, pal,” Jack accused him good-naturedly.
“More fun this way,” Mick retorted.
“I’ll bet. So…” Jack grabbed a driver out of his bag. “What do you say to a friendly wager, Miss PGA? What’s your handicap?”
“Six.”
“Not too shabby. Mine’s two. How about I spot you five shots, and what’s a bet you can live with?”
“Ha! You only need to spot me four shots. The question is what can you live with? Because you’ll be the one paying up. Can your ego handle being bested by a girl?” She dared him with her hand out waiting for him to accept the bet.
“I think I can keep my ego in check.” Jack gave her hand a hearty shake. “What are the stakes?”
“How about loser buys dinner back in Chicago? Mick will act as supreme mediator. I always beat him, so he’s not betting. Are you, Mick?”
“I know better. Get ready to be taken, Jack, my boy.” Mick slapped him on the shoulder.
Jack arched an eyebrow at Mick. “Traitor.”
****
Lizzie had never had so much fun playing golf. The easy banter between the three of them helped her relax and be herself. She enjoyed the sight of Jack pushing to win, Mick turned caddy advising him, co-conspirators.
Jack’s black hair blew around his face, serious with fierce concentration, and his muscles bunched with every shot he blasted off the tees. He had the advantage of sheer power connecting with the ball, but she had more control.
Lizzie placed her hand over her mouth and tried to stifle a laugh when he missed an easy putt on eight. She smelled victory. Sweet.
Remembering how Wallace wouldn’t talk to her for hours the first time she beat him, stopped her from laughing. The fear of how Jack would react when he choked on the ninth hole and she beat him by five strokes held her exuberance in check. She didn’t need the four shots he’d spotted her and hadn’t thought she would.
“Wow.” He scooped up her hand and shook it. “You win. I’m impressed. You’re really good. I want a rematch sometime.”
Shock temporarily silenced her. He’d congratulated her and hadn’t walked off and left her in a huff?
“You would play with me again?” Fear slid down her spine.
“Sure I would. Why wouldn’t I? You played a great round. But remind me not to spot you any strokes. Hey, maybe we could play partners and hustle some of my friends.” He grinned.
She grinned back, used to a different reaction from men. Well, Wallace. What a contrast.
Jack picked up the golf bag and hoisted its strap over his shoulder. “Let me know when you’re free for dinner in Chicago so I can pay up.”
“You don’t have to buy me dinner.”
“I never welsh on bets. You can pick the restaurant.”
Lunch at the clubhouse lasted longer than the quick bite they’d intended to grab. A quiet man until he had a beer or two in him to loosen his tongue, Mick entertained Jack with stories of his antics in college, most notably the dogged pursuit of Kay for six months before she relented and dated him. Lizzie had always been part of Kay’s inner sanctum so she added Kay’s perspective to the anecdotes, and it made for laughs and good-natured ribbing.
Mick dropped them at the hotel when the afternoon sun had swung low toward the horizon. The peach-tinged light softened the day. The landscape surrounding the river looked prettier to Lizzie as it filtered through the pastels of impending sunset. She wanted to linger outside and watch the sky grow fiery as the sunlight extinguished, but she needed to get ready for the gala.
Walking through the lobby next to Jack, her contentment with him at her side surprised her. Close together for the few minutes’ elevator ride she almost believed they were a couple.
She slid her key into the slot in her hotel door and turned to him. “We certainly were well matched today, huh Jack?”
“Yes, surprisingly so.” His appreciative look flattered her. “I’ll come by your room at seven.”
Leaning on the doorframe, she watched his progress down the hall, which gave her a nice display of extremely great buns.
He’s a good guy. Maybe I won’t kill Charlie after all.
Chapter Seven
A hollow knock on her door sounded as she fastened the clasp on the back of a strappy sandal. “Door’s open.” Bent over, she worked the tiny piece of metal into the hole on the leather strap.
The door hinge creaked. Footsteps echoed on the tile floor, coming nearer. Bent at the waist, Lizzie fiddled with her shoe. The bottom of pant legs, matte black on rich fabric, swung into view.
Jack halted with a half-skid of his mirror-polished black dress loafers, and cleared his throat. “I think I need a defibrillator, Beth. Red is your color. And I like how little there is of that dress.”
His thick tone of desire sent chills up her spine.
“Thanks.” She straightened, did a little curtsy in place and froze.
Look at you.
Clad in a finely tailored tuxedo, his dark hair slicked back, Jack was the epitome of a dream date. He was classic “black Irish” handsome, narrow straight nose, fair complexion, navy blue eyes that shone with easy confidence. “I could use CPR myself. You look terrific.”
“John P. Clark, date extraordinaire, at your service, ma’am.” He bowed at the waist.
She walked to a side table and picked up her evening purse, thrilled that Jack would accompany her to her next all-important encounter with Wallace. “Ready?”
He swept his gaze over her from the floor to her eyes. Sensuality simmered behind his even stare. “Nice shoes.”
“Manolo Blahniks.” She sighed. “It’s a vice.”
“Well, just keep on sinning.” He walked toward her and stretched out his hand. She looked down at the flat, black jewelry box in his palm.
“What’s this?”
“Charlie told me to give this to you tonight. Claimed you
’d appreciate it more than a corsage. I took the liberty of opening it before I came.”
Jack deposited the box in her hand. “I think you’ll like it. Go ahead. Open it.”
Lizzie opened the box gingerly, conflicted about accepting a present from Charlie through Jack. When she saw the diamond necklace, she couldn’t contain her delight. “Oh, Jack. It’s beautiful.”
He stepped forward and removed the dainty jewelry from the box. “Let me.”
Steering her in front of the hall mirror he encircled her neck with the platinum chain. All she could concentrate on was his warm breath on her shoulders. His musky masculine scent scrambled her brain.
Staring in the mirror, she touched the tiny diamond butterfly at her throat with wonder. “Mari wore a necklace just like this all the time.”
His eyes met hers in the mirror. “I know. It is Mari’s necklace.” He stepped away from her.
She turned toward him with a teary smile. Her hand pressed the smooth gold filigree into her neck, stroking the tiny diamond facets under her fingers. Blinking several times so the tears wouldn’t spill, she trained her eyes on his. “Oh, thank you Jack. It’s a treasure beyond compare.”
Lizzie couldn’t define what passed between them, but the power of the moment resonated in her soul. She could hardly breathe. He opened his arms and she stepped into them as if pushed forward by invisible hands. For a few seconds they clung together, fit together.
My dream date. Mari are you here with me?
Releasing her gently Jack said, “Thank Charlie, not me. He must have figured you’d be less likely to bash his head in when you get back if he did something nice like this.”
“It’s more than nice. It’s very special.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t think I’ll ever take it off.”
He bent his arm and offered it to her.
****
By the time Jack arrived with his lady in red at the hotel that fronted the Boston Harbor, the open-air cocktail hour was winding down. He got them each drinks before the bar closed and steered her through the sea of round tables, heavy with china and crystal, to find seats next to Kay and Mick, who rose to greet them at table number one.
Jack shook Mick’s hand warmly. Next he grasped Kay’s hand and pressed it to his lips. “You are the most beautiful pregnant woman in the world.”
Kay blushed at his attention. “Mostly belly, that’s me.”
Jack surveyed the folds of sapphire silk that hung from straps of sparkling jewels. The gown draped her body beautifully and showed off her shapely arms. Her lovely face glowed in the candlelight.
“No, you are not mostly belly. You are one exquisite beauty.” He kissed her hand again, and then held the chair next to hers for Beth as Mick held Kay’s chair. “Mick, every man in this place is jealous of you tonight.” Jack sat down next to Beth.
“Charmer.” Kay squeezed Beth’s hand. “I’ve got to get up there in a few minutes, and I’m a nervous wreck.”
“Don’t worry,” Beth soothed her. “Jack’s right, you look beautiful.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it.” Kay smoothed a hand over her short blond hair. “And you look sensational, Liz.”
At eight sharp the orchestra stopped playing background music.
“There’s my cue.” Kay pushed out of her chair and walked to the front of the room. She turned on the regulator of a lavaliere microphone clipped to the strap of her gown.
“Welcome Class of 1997. I’m your reunion committee chair, Kay Lynch—back in ’97, Katherine Adams.”
Kay’s yearbook picture appeared on a huge wall screen behind her.
“As you can see,” she looked down pointedly at her pregnant shape, “things change in the ten years after graduation.”
She smiled. “We are an auspicious group. We are scientists and astronauts. We built buildings and bridges, and served our country in the military and the Peace Corps. We have become husbands and wives and fathers and mothers.”
Kay shuffled the cards in her hands. “Some of us lost loved ones on September 11, 2001. Some of us departed earth that day.”
Pictures of classmates who died in the Twin Towers rolled on the screen.
“Others died fighting battles in war or against disease.”
The collage of photos continued.
“We honor their memories.” Kay paused.
“In ’97 we dreamed our dreams. Today we celebrate those realized and those we still reach for. Ladies and gentlemen, I present our class, now a decade better.”
The lights dimmed and a video played on the wall screen. Kay sat down next to Beth and held her hand. The video ran highlights of their graduation ceremony and the achievements of their classmates.
Then, one by one, Elizabeth Moran’s published photographs displayed on screen. A voiceover explained the disturbing images of the world’s children orphaned by war, famine, disease, natural disasters and neglect. Her yearbook picture flashed up next and the narrator listed her credentials as a Peace Corps veteran, two-time Pulitzer Prize winner, NewsWorld Magazine associate and member of the International Press.
On to the next classmate in alphabetical order, Prescott soon followed with a blurb on Wallace’s successes as an architect.
“Beth, yours is bigger than fathead, Wally’s,” Jack whispered behind his hand.
Beth gulped water as the video ended to thundering applause, the apparent signal for the wait staff to serve the salad course.
“Are you mad at me, Liz?” Kay’s brow pinched together.
“Of course not.” Beth patted Kay’s hand. “Maybe a little embarrassed. But I am proud of those photos because they changed things for those children. So on second thought, thanks Kay. Somebody here might open their wallet because you did this.”
“I, for one, am mighty impressed.” Jack picked up the wine glass a waiter had just filled. “Here’s to the only Pulitzer Prize winner I’ve ever known.”
Beth swatted Jack’s arm as if such an awesome accomplishment were no big deal. “Eat your dinner.”
Jack dug into his meal, his mind racing, more than impressed with his dinner date.
****
Kay seemed relaxed and busied herself striking up dinner conversations among the other people at the table, while she nibbled on her own meal.
Lizzie enjoyed the food, and noticed Kay’s barely touched plate. She touched her arm. “Shouldn’t you be eating?”
“Water gives me heartburn these days,” Kay assured her. “Don’t worry. I’m taking my vitamins. I demo’d that box of chocolates for lunch.” She leaned closer to Lizzie and whispered in her ear. “Wallace at three o’clock.”
Lizzie tried to avoid any telltale head movement and glanced to the right. His hair slicked back with glossy gel, resplendent in an Armani tux, Wallace pushed back from his table.
“It looks like he’s coming over here.” Lizzie swallowed against the clench of nerves.
“Places everybody,” Jack muttered as he reached for Lizzie’s hand and pressed it to his lips.
Undaunted, Wallace soldiered on and approached their table. He held a checkbook in his hand.
“Good evening, Kay. I enjoyed your presentation. Good job.” Wallace gave a smile to the table at large, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Lizzie knew this unreadable look. It had always prompted guilt in her, a vague sense she had done something wrong and spurred her to apologize. For what? She had never been sure. Jack still held Lizzie’s hand, a now familiar stronghold against the barrage of self-deprecating emotions Wallace invoked.
“Elizabeth, you look intoxicating tonight.” Wallace ignored Jack. “I was touched by your photos.” He waved his checkbook in Lizzie’s direction. “I thought perhaps I might make a modest donation to your cause. Would ten thousand dollars make a small difference?”
“Oh.” Flustered, Lizzie pried her hand loose from Jack’s, linked both her hands together and forced them to be still in her lap. “That’s very generous
of you, Wallace. I’m overwhelmed.”
Wallace angled between Lizzie and Kay and leaned his checkbook on the table. He filled out the check and signed it with an audible flourish. Handing the check to Lizzie, a self-satisfied smile brightened his face. “I left the payee blank for your discernment of the worthiest cause.”
“Big word discernment, Wally. Good job,” Jack quipped.
Unsteady, Lizzie looked up at Wallace.
Did he know how much this meant to her? Finally he cared about something that was deeply important to her?
Her heart leaped, hopeful. “This is wonderful. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Of course.” He slipped the checkbook into his jacket’s inner pocket.
Wallace stared at her, a soft, pleading expression in his brown eyes. What does he want from me?
“Well, then.” His tone was as soft as his unspoken plea.
He shuffled his weight back and forth on his feet. “I’ll get back to my table. Perhaps you’ll save a dance for me?”
“Of course, I will.” Touched, Lizzie couldn’t believe his behavior. In her past fantasies, he would be generous, giving and he would want her again. Maybe she was dreaming now.
“Better get back to your date, Wally.” Jack dismissed him in a monotone.
“I came stag.” Wallace bared his teeth in a frozen smile at Jack, excused himself and walked away.
He’s alone? Maybe he’s not serious about that woman?
The lights on the crystal chandeliers dimmed low, and the banquet hall glowed with flickers of candlelight reflected in a mirrored wall to Lizzie’s left intensifying the dream-like nature of the evening so far.
Through the wall of French doors on her right, strings of white lights dotted trees and foliage. The orchestra played something sweet, melodic and heavy on the strings.
“First dance with me, Beth?” Jack pushed his chair back and held out his hand.
She placed her hand in his. Lizzie loved fairy lights and dreamy music. Jack’s warm hand covered hers so completely. He pulled her to her feet. She moved, light and graceful, to the dance floor and he took her in his arms.
Reunion for the First Time Page 6
