Not Even if You Begged

by Francis Ray

  “If you hurt Jus—”

  “If I had wanted to do that, I would have released the information,” Traci interrupted. “Her husband might have been my client, but that doesn’t mean I approved of him or what he did. You’re right. She deserves happiness, but so do I. If things had gone badly last night for me, I’d like to think I would have forgiven you, but I’m not sure.”

  “If anyone turned Patrick against me, I’d make their life hell,” Brianna hissed.

  “So we understand each other.”

  “We do.” Brianna adjusted the shoulder strap of her bag. “Good-bye, and thanks for listening and accepting the apology.”

  “Believe it or not, I admire you and never wanted you as an enemy, but if it came to that, so be it,” Traci told her truthfully. “Obviously, someone wanted us to at least be civil to each other.”

  Brianna smiled for the first time. “Simon put in his two cents, and he arrived with Maureen. You and Maureen are friends. Maureen is Ryan’s mother. You’re dating Ryan.”

  “And Ryan is both Justine’s and your doctor.”

  “Justine’s at least.” Brianna started for the door. “Depends on how well I can grovel.”

  “You aren’t the groveling type,” Traci said.

  “For my baby, I am. Good-bye.” The door closed after her.

  Traci stared after her, then pulled out her cell phone and dialed. “Dr. Gilmore. Traci Evans calling.”

  “I thought you said you and Ryan were dating?” Cicely Andrews practically cooed the question. Model thin with an emaciated look, dyed blond hair, and dreadful taste in clothes, she sat across the restaurant table from Elisa. “Word is he’s seeing a PR guru.”

  Elisa’s fingers gripped the salad fork, anger sweeping through her. She detested Cicely. She was as false as her boob job, which still couldn’t help her keep a man. Elisa had accepted the luncheon invitation only because it was near the hospital and she’d have an excuse for dropping by to see her father and possibly Ryan.

  But she detested even more being made a fool. Ryan would pay for his disloyalty. She knew the perfect way. Her fingers relaxed. “You know how men are. They take what sluttish women offer.”

  Cicely gasped. She’d been passed around more times than a party tray and all of their associates and friends knew it. She was a pediatrician, which was a fitting profession because like her patients who, because of their age, moved on to another doctor, men in her life eventually moved on as well.

  “Why don’t you bring Ryan over to the party next week at my house?” Cicely asked.

  “I’ll ask, but we like just staying in.” Elisa placed her fork on her plate and picked up her glass of wine. “Perhaps next time.”

  “No one has ever seen you together.” Cicely twirled her wineglass by the stem. “He’s been seen with this woman. People are beginning to wonder, but you know I defended you.”

  The bitch was asking to be slapped, but she wasn’t to blame. Elisa knew who those people were and they’d pay dearly. “People are always talking about something. You remember the gossip and the nasty divorce that followed when the Doubleday Hotel had the false fire alarm at two in the morning and you were seen with the father of one of your patients?”

  Cicely’s fingers pressed so hard on the stem Elisa expected it to break. Cicely could dish it out, but she couldn’t take it. She should have remembered that no one messed with Elisa.

  No one.

  Simon called just as Forever Yours was about to close.

  “How about an early dinner and a movie tonight?”

  “I’d love to.” Please, no hot flashes, she prayed. “I can be ready by seven.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll bring the movie guide and we can select what we want to see.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea,” she said. “See you then.”

  “I thought you might show me your art collection this evening.” Jason gripped the box of art supplies.

  Maureen hung up the phone and glanced at her watch. It was five minutes after six. In traffic, it would take twenty minutes to reach her house. Jason’s house was another twenty minutes away.

  He shrugged and turned to go. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Rounding the desk, she grabbed his arm. Traci had told her about his recent move. He was lonely and didn’t have much faith in people. “You’re not being fair. Or are you trying to test me again?”

  “You said you’d show me.”

  “If I don’t have time to get ready for my date with Simon, I’m going to be very difficult to work for tomorrow.”

  Jason didn’t appear the least afraid. “I can handle it.”

  She grabbed her purse. “Remember that.”

  “I can’t believe it.”

  She’d been right about him.

  The awe in Jason’s voice made up for the smirk he’d worn just before they left Forever Yours. He went from one painting to the other, his fingertips inches from the paint of some of the best African-American painters of the eighteenth through the twentieth century.

  “You have Tanner, Pippin, Wells, Motley, White.” He shook his head as if it were too much for him to take in.

  “James, my late husband, collected African-American paintings.” Maureen moved to a bronze sculpture by Fuller, a marble by Lewis. “I collected sculptures and bronzes. We started with an artful entry. When our collection outgrew that area, we decided on an art room that connected to his study and my office.”

  Jason looked at her. “That’s good or the thieves might have—” His voice trailed off, his head bowed. “I’m no better than they are. I’m sorry.”

  She went to him. “Apology accepted.”

  His head lifted; regret shone in his eyes. “Why do you put up with me?”

  Teenagers. Blunt. Maddening. And didn’t have a clue. “Because I believe in you. Because people helped me, helped my son. No one goes through this life and achieves anything without the help of someone else,” she said. “I might have grown up with more money than you, but James didn’t. He worked hard to be successful. It’s what’s inside that counts.”

  “Mama said people are out for themselves,” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced.

  “Some people are, but when you find those people, you cut them out of your life and move on. You find people who believe in you, who want the best for you,” she said with quiet emphasis.

  “Because I only get one chance,” he said slowly, as if the words finally had meaning and were sinking in.

  “If you live it right, once is enough,” she said.

  The doorbell rang. She glanced at her watch and barely kept from groaning. “Simon.”

  “I’m sorry. I can get myself home.” He hurried out of the room and down the hallway, which was lined with African-American artwork.

  “Jason. Come back here,” Maureen yelled, going after him.

  “It’s all right. I’m used to taking care of myself.” He opened the front door to leave.

  “Simon, please stop him,” Maureen called on seeing Simon in the doorway.

  Simon caught Jason by the arm as he rushed by. “What’s the hurry?”

  “I didn’t take anything,” Jason told him, trying to free his arm.

  “I don’t recall saying you did.” Simon stepped into the foyer and released Jason.

  “Of course you didn’t. But it’s miles to your house, and I don’t want you walking,” Maureen told him. “If Simon doesn’t mind, we can drop you off at your house on the way to the restaurant.”

  “I told you, I can get home by myself.” He hunched his thin shoulders, the standoffish kid again. “I just need my art set and backpack out of your car.”

  Maureen pulled her car keys from the pocket of her jacket. “If you promise me you’ll come back inside and let us take you home, you can go get them.”

  “You trust me with your car keys?” he asked, incredulously.

  “Yes.” She picked up his hand and placed the keys in his palm. “Hello, Simon. Please have a se
at. I won’t be but a few minutes. Jason and I lost track of time.” She hurried up the staircase.

  “I don’t understand her,” Jason said, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Simon gave him a gentle pat on the back. “Join the men-without-a-clue club.”

  “She’s late because I asked to see her art collection. She could have made me wait—” He shook his head. “She’s different.”

  “And she cares a lot about you.”

  Jason’s hand clenched around the keys. “You want to go with me to the car?”

  “I believe my instruction was to have a seat. Don’t forget to lock it back up.” Simon went to the great room, leaving the teenager in the foyer.

  “You took a chance giving Jason your keys,” Simon told Maureen as they watched Jason let himself inside his house, trying to balance a pizza box and his art set. True to her word, Maureen had come back downstairs ten minutes later and they’d left.

  “Who stopped for pizza?” Maureen asked.

  Simon pulled off when the front door closed and the lights came on in the house. “After he kept hinting that he was hungry, but he didn’t want us to be late, what could I do?”

  “He got me the same way. He’s testing us to see how far he can push us.” She turned in the seat as much as she could. “He wouldn’t have dared pull that on his mother. He’s afraid of her.”

  Simon stopped at a signal light. “In a good or bad way?”

  “Bad, I’d say, but I don’t think she sees it that way. He tries to pretend it doesn’t bother him, but he wants her love.” Maureen shook her head. “She wants to get him out of her life as soon as possible. It will always amaze me that a woman can carry a baby for nine months and not love it, not do everything possible to see that the baby is happy and loved.”

  “Sometimes things simply go wrong.” Simon pulled through the light. “Miguel has great parents. His older sister has a 4.0 grade point average in college and his younger brother is on the honor roll in high school. Neither has even been to the principal’s office. Miguel is just as smart, but he chooses to use his intelligence in a destructive way. Wish I knew what it was about some middle children that get them so mixed up.”

  “Being a parent is scary, but there’s nothing like it,” she said, feeling her way. She wanted Simon to know she didn’t expect forever, that she didn’t want to deprive him of being a father.

  “You met my niece, Brooke, and her husband at the hospital last night.” Simon pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. “She became an instant mother to two wonderful children. She says she wouldn’t trade the experience for anything. Her little girl is a tomboy and her son is neat and studious, although Brooke is working on him to loosen up a bit.”

  “You like working with children. You’ll make a great father,” she said, trying not to look at him.

  “At the moment, I’m just trying to be a great uncle.” Opening his door, he came around and opened hers.

  Maureen didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. Inside the restaurant the hostess greeted Simon by name. On the way to their table, several of the waitstaff waved. “You must be a regular.”

  “I guess it shows.” Simon held the chair for Maureen, then sat next to her in a quiet area of the restaurant. “Patrick and Brianna introduced me to the place. It’s a favorite of her parents.” He picked up the menu. “I’ve never eaten anything here that wasn’t good.”

  “Hi, Simon,” the waitress greeted warmly. Her gaze flickered briefly over Maureen. “Glad to see you back. What can I start you out with? Appetizers? Drinks?”

  “Thanks, Casey.” He turned to Maureen. “What will you have?”

  Maureen started at Simon’s question. She had been paying more attention to the waitress. The attractive young woman stood very close to Simon, and had only glanced at Maureen, dismissing her as a threat. “Sweetened iced tea.”

  “Make that two,” Simon said. “Please give us a few minutes.”

  “Sure.” Casey placed her hand on Simon’s shoulder before leaving.

  Maureen simply stared at the brazen, disrespectful woman. In her day— Her thoughts stumbled. It wasn’t her day. That was the point. Women were allowed to show men they were interested in them. They were even praised for their boldness. She was out of her element here.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I’m old,” she blurted, and could have crawled under the table. She slapped her hand over her mouth, but, as her mother always said, once the cows were out, it was too late to lock the gate.

  “By whose standards?” Laying the menu aside, he propped his arms on the table. “Certainly not mine or anyone who has been around you longer than a few minutes. You’re vibrant and beautiful. Not too many people could run up or down your stairs the way you do and not get winded.”

  Hearing him call her vibrant and beautiful helped, but she had to face facts. “How old are you?”

  He hesitated, then, “Forty-nine. Fifty in five months.”

  Maureen barely managed not to groan. It was as bad as she’d thought. More than ten years separated them.

  “Age doesn’t matter. It’s the person,” he said, as if reading her thoughts.

  Casey appeared at the table. “Ready?”

  Maureen glanced at the menu and ordered the first thing she saw. “The shrimp platter, please.”

  “Make mine oysters on the half shell.”

  Casey took both menus, and grinned down at Simon. “I’ll take care of it myself,” she practically purred.

  Maureen frowned at the departing woman’s back. “She certainly isn’t the shy type, is she?”

  Simon scooted his chair closer. “Brianna almost went off on her the last time we were here when she made a play for Patrick. He and I ignore her. We know what we want.”

  With Simon so close to her, his eyes gazing into hers, Maureen’s heart hammered foolishly and she almost forgot about their age difference. Almost. “You were fourteen when I had Ryan.”

  “I fail to see the relevance,” he said quietly. “If I hadn’t had strong parents, I could have been a father at that age like a few boys in my class. One has nothing to do with the other. Only what we feel.”

  “Here you are.” The smile on Casey’s face slipped when she noticed how close Simon was sitting to Maureen. If the waitress didn’t get it, his arm on the back of Maureen’s chair stated they were there as a couple.

  “Thanks, Casey.”

  “You’re welcome,” she mumbled, but with none of the earlier warmth.

  Simon tucked his head to say grace, then picked up an oyster. “You want to share?”

  Maureen remembered oysters were considered aphrodisiacs. With Simon’s strong body, she didn’t think he’d need any inducers. Neither did she. “No, thanks.” She picked up her fork, but simply held it as Simon ate. Her body heated as she recalled his lips on her, his tongue mating with hers.

  “Change your mind?”

  He caught her staring. His eyes were dark, smoldering. He wanted her. Desired her. Her age didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but how they felt. “I think I have.” She opened her mouth for him to feed her, and couldn’t wait for them to be home so they could do to each other what their eyes were saying.

  “Are we cool?” Jason asked the moment he saw Maureen the next morning in her office at Forever Yours.

  “Yes.” Maureen hoped she didn’t blush. She and Simon had skipped the movie and gone back to her house to neck. She could still feel the imprint of his upper body on hers.

  “You need your fan or your water?” he asked.

  “Neither, thank you.” Maureen tucked her head. The heat flushing her cheeks wasn’t due to a HF. “I’m fine. You want to go with me to watch the Sharks play … if your mother says it’s all right?”

  “There’s a free art exhibit at Avery’s college. She invited me, and I’m going over there.” There was pride in his voice that Maureen hadn’t heard before.

  “How do you plan to get there, then
home?”

  “The bus. I got it covered. I’d better get back outside.” He started to leave, then turned back. “Thanks for taking me to see your art collection.”

  “You’re welcome.” Maureen folded her hands on her desk. Jason was a much different boy than he’d been when he’d first walked into her store. It just went to show you that you never knew what a seemingly insignificant thing could do to change the course of your life.

  Like her meeting a client and seeing Simon for the first time. Life held a lot of surprises if you were open to them. She was up to them, and to seeing where her and Simon’s relationship went.

  Simon and Maureen saw each other every night that week, and they always ended up on her sofa driving each other almost to the brink of no return.

  Simon had never thought of wanting in degrees … until he’d held and kissed Maureen. She was a fire that burned hotly in his blood. Yet, indecisiveness kept him from taking that final step.

  “Simon,” she moaned into his mouth, her hand under his shirt—one of them had jerked it out of his pants. Her touch set him on fire.

  She made him tremble. She was precious to him. She deserved better than making love on the sofa, but he wasn’t sure how she’d feel about making love in the bedroom she’d shared with her husband. She still had his picture on her night chest. He’d seen it the night her home had been burglarized.

  He broke off the kiss and held her tightly to him. He was holding it together by sheer will. He’d like nothing better than to strip her down to her soft, velvet skin and surge into her moist heat, feel her clench around him. Air hissed through his gritted teeth.

  “Simon, what’s the matter?”

  He thought of evading for all of two seconds. Instead he lifted her chin until their eyes met. “I want us to make love in a bed and I want you to be comfortable. I’m not sure how you feel about that.”

  She tucked her head. “I thought of us together in my bed.”

  His body jerked, hardened. “You have?”

  Her head lifted. “I have.”

  He kissed her gently on the lips. “Thank you.” Standing, he extended his hand.