by Lisa Plumley
But that was over with now. Now, the other guides and adventure travelers milled around the rocky clearing just beyond Riley’s spot. Now, it was almost time for another anti-heartbreak workshop session. Now, wind snaked down his neck and lifted his shirt from his sweaty back. He relished the cooling sensation.
He would not, Riley thought, relish the next workshop quite as much.
Idly, he surveyed the obligatory pre-workshop “primp!” session. It had to serve some purpose, but he was clueless as to what it was. Was it workshop foreplay?
“Okay, ladies.” When she’d finished her lipstick, Jayne stepped to the middle of the clearing with an air of purpose. “It’s time for the Memorabilia Mash Mambo!”
Eagerly, the women put away their leopard-print compacts. Intrigued in spite of himself, Riley watched. The other men did, too. They drifted toward his place gradually, their gazes fixed on the workshop group.
Jayne perched on a rock, somehow managing to look like a leggy blonde pinup girl despite the trail dust and rustic setting. It was in her attitude. She wore carefree glamour cheerfully, the way other women wore new shoes. Her girly-girl ways charmed him. They always had, even when they puzzled the hell out of him.
“Did each of you bring a memento of the relationship you’re here to get over?” she asked. “Something representative of your goodbye guy?”
The women nodded. They brandished various items—a ring, a letter, a dried flower, movie ticket stubs, a music CD.
“‘Best of the Do-Wop Hits?’” Jayne raised her eyebrows at Mitzi. “Really?”
Mitzi popped her gum. She nodded. “Me and Rodney’s ‘song’ was ‘Shoo Doo Be Doo.’ We worked in one of those Fifties-style diners together.” She gave the CD a longing look.
“Okay. A CD is just fine.” Jayne patted her hand. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” she told the group. “The purpose of this workshop is to remember your relationship, celebrate your relationship, and then put it in its place. I’m handing each of you a waterproof, rip-proof Tyvek envelope. You’ll use these later.”
They each accepted their envelopes solemnly.
“After we finish this technique, remember that I want your feedback, okay? These are all potential chapters in my upcoming hands-on breakup guide workbook. I need to know how well each of the techniques work. All your opinions are important to me.”
They nodded. Even Alexis, who’d withdrawn…a Cinnabon wrapper?…from her pack. Riley cocked his head, curious.
“We’re all set, then.” Jayne stood, her movements purposeful and her attitude professional. Riley couldn’t help being impressed. “I wanted to bring a CD player for this particular workshop, but somebody—”
Her meaningful gaze pinned him as the nefarious somebody.
“—wouldn’t let me pack in a boom box. So I guess we’ll just have to hum some mambo music. First, I’ll demonstrate the technique. I just need a…oh, shoot! I forgot to bring my demonstration memento.”
She bit her lip, looking around—evidently for a substitute breakup “memento.” Ever willing to help, Riley stepped forward. “Here,” he called, grabbing the first thing that came to mind and tossing it to her.
His Swiss Army knife.
Jayne caught it. She fumbled it first, like a shortstop bobbling an infield bunt, but she caught it. Then she peered into her cupped palms to see what it was.
That was the moment Riley remembered. He remembered using his knife’s corkscrew to open wine on a date with Jayne. Remembered using the wood saw blade to slice French bread on their ocean-side picnics. Remembered Jayne using the nail file to repair her chipped manicure…remembered kissing her and then carrying her to bed, all because she’d looked so cute while concentrating on the repair job. Too late, he remembered that that knife had been a part of too many damned memories of their time together.
He remembered using the magnifying glass to find a lost sequin from Jayne’s dress. He remembered using it to cut off clothing tags for her after she returned home all flushed and excited after a shopping spree. He remembered using the built-in ballpoint pen…to tell her goodbye.
Hell. How could he have been so stupid?
She gazed across the distance separating them. Remembrance filled her face. That, and sadness. Riley felt like the biggest kind of jerk. A thoughtless jerk. He stepped forward to apologize.
Just then, Jayne tossed the folded army knife in the air. She caught it with a jaunty gesture, a wobbly smile on her face.
“Thanks, Riley.” Above her forced smile, her gaze flashed over him, blue and dangerous. “This will be perfect.”
Uh-oh. He was pretty sure his Swiss Army knife was indestructible. But then it had never come up against an ex-girlfriend with a point to prove, either.
He offered a carefree wave and a nod. Jayne didn’t need to know he sort of cherished that knife. Just like she didn’t need to know exactly how few possessions he owned. Riley didn’t care about things. He cared about experiences. About the adrenalin rush of adventure and the reassuring familiarity of staying on the move. She couldn’t take those things away from him.
He’d already proven that by leaving her, hadn’t he? Before she’d fully tempted him into settling down, trusting, changing.
“First, the celebration,” Jayne told her guidance groupies, who watched avidly. “Hold your piece of relationship memorabilia, and then…mambo.”
Unselfconsciously, she started humming. Holding his army knife in her hand, she began to dance. Her hips swayed in the mambo, her feet kicked up little puffs of dust, her eyes closed as her head fell back. Her baby blue hat tumbled to the ground. Jayne lost herself in her demonstration. Her body moved lithely, her lush blonde hair flowing in the breeze.
“She’s an excellent dancer,” Mack told Riley in a low voice, nodding. “Very uninhibited.”
“Yeah.” Bruce nudged him. “Hey, this workshop stuff could be pretty good.”
Even Lance looked up from his Game Boy. “Whoa.”
It was hard for Riley to drag his gaze from Jayne’s sassy little hip thrusts, but he did it. All for the sake of scowling them into submission.
“Sorry,” they mumbled, then went back to watching.
After less than a minute, the dance ended. Jayne opened her eyes to retrieve her fallen hat, and all the women applauded. Bruce stuck his fingers in his mouth to whistle. Riley deterred him with a jab to his ribcage.
“Thanks,” she said when the applause died down, cheeks pink with pleasure. “That was just a demonstration, of course. Your own personal mambos can go on as long as needed. Then, the next step.” Jayne brandished her Tyvek envelope. “Mashing.”
With enthusiasm, she thrust his army knife into the bag. She ripped the protective strip from the adhesive, dropped the bag onto the ground, and closed the envelope with a stomp from her shoe. She bent over to retrieve it.
Bruce nodded, grinning. His ogling reflexes seemed to be having a field day. “This workshop is awesome. Wait’ll they’re all doing it!”
Riley considered punching him in the nose. He settled for telling him to shut up, then began planning his first macho counter-workshop. After all, he’d said he’d do it. He was a man of his word.
Jayne raised the sealed envelope over her head. “Voilà! By the time your memorabilia is stowed in your envelope, you’ll have put to rest a big chunk of your memories, too. And when you’re ready to revisit them someday, they’ll be there for you. Safe and sound.”
“Yay!” All the women lunged to their feet, ready to mambo-and-mash their memorabilia.
“This is our cue to exit.” Riley angled his head sideways, motioning for the men to follow him. “We’ve got our own workshop to conduct.”
They trouped toward a distant set of boulders. Bruce cast a longing glance backward. “Will our workshop have dancing women?”
Riley shook his head. “Eyes front and center, mambo boy. Let’s give the ladies some privacy.”
“Did you bring one of your super-duper cam
eras, by any chance?” Bruce persisted. “One with the a telephoto lens and a tripod and crystal-clear imaging?”
Riley always carried a camera. Leaving it with his gear in his battered Suburban home-on-wheels was like leaving a chunk of himself behind. “I’m not here to take pictures.”
“Shit, Riley. I thought you were my friend!”
“I am.” He grinned at Bruce’s disgruntled expression. “That’s why I’m not taking pictures of the women for you. I’d like you to make it back from this trip alive.”
Lance and Mack chuckled. Then they all picked up the pace toward their chosen spot, ready to workshop themselves into complete, Riley-led macho-ness.
Chapter Eleven
The sun made Jayne squint and pull her Gap hat lower as she approached the place she’d seen Riley and the men disappear to. She’d finished her workshop, and had helped all the women pack up their gear afterward. All that remained now was finding their guides. And accomplishing one additional solo task that she wasn’t quite looking forward to.
A lizard scurried away as she rounded a tall boulder. Jayne shrieked and stopped dead, her heart pounding. She searched her mind for any wildlife shows she might have seen on TV, shows that explained whether or not lizards were carnivorous, poisonous, or in any other way dangerous.
Nothing came to mind. She remembered that she avoided wildlife shows, because she couldn’t stand watching the big critters munch the little critters while a TV host yammered on about “the circle of life.” That, in Jayne’s opinion, was just plain mean.
Movement to the right, just above her head, caught her eye.
“You probably gave that poor little gecko a heart attack,” Riley said, looking down from the top of the rocky overhang beside her. “Come on up, if you can spare the time from terrorizing innocent lizards.”
“Is it gone?” She searched the ground.
“It’s gone.” His head and torso disappeared from view, and his voice sounded farther away. “There are some foot-and handholds off to your right.”
Jayne frowned. His teasing reminded her of things. Things she’d rather forget. Had forgotten. Like her widowed father’s laughter when ten-year-old Jayne had baited her hook with gummy worms on the annual family fishing trip. Like her older brothers’ hoots and hollers when she’d failed to dribble, bat, or catch a ball.
Well, she’d caught Riley’s Swiss Army knife today, that was for sure. And that was what had brought her here. The sooner she finished what she had to do, the better.
She found the crevices and helper boulders Riley had mentioned. With a little effort, Jayne made it to the top of his gigantic rock. There, she clutched the knife she intended to return to him…and stared.
Bathed in sunlight and completely shirtless, Riley lay sprawled on the slab-like surface of the rock. He’d pillowed his head with his discarded shirt and fleece. His attitude was relaxed, his finely-muscled body amazing, his expression peaceful—as though he were asleep and dreaming a fabulous dream.
He cracked open one eye and caught her gawking. “Nice view, huh?”
It was horribly arrogant of him. She’d be the first to admit that. But he did have a point. Jayne whisked her gaze from the intriguing span of nakedness visible between his rippled abs and the waistband of his low-slung pants. Wow. Would fanning herself with her hat be too obvious?
“Your pants are a little wrinkly,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. “But otherwise, I guess you look—”
His grin was all too knowing. “I meant the view of the countryside.”
“Oh. That’s nice, too.” Too? Arrgh!
Riley’s grin broadened. His watchful patience was as much a part of him as his thick dark hair, wicked hazel eyes, and a body made for mischief. She wished she were immune to all of those things. Starting now.
But she wasn’t. Obviously. She had to save face.
“So, where are the rest of the guys?” Jayne put her hands in the back pockets of her wind pants and looked around for the other guides. “Aren’t you supposed to be conducting some macho guy workshop for them right now?”
“I am.”
His body remained relaxed. He closed his eyes again, seeming to enjoy the whisper of the breeze against his skin. Probably, he was. Riley had always been a sensualist. She couldn’t help but imagine how the sun felt on his partially-nude body, how the wind tickled, how the rocks provided a rough counterpoint against his back. How she would feel lowering herself to straddle him, taking off her shirt to rub her breasts against his naked chest…kissing him until they both were breathless.
She blinked. “You are?”
“Yes. This is a distance workshop. Power Napping. Useful for football game halftimes, waiting on line at the DMV, and killing time while your girlfriend changes outfits for the tenth time.” He opened his eyes and levered upward on his elbow. “Impressed?”
“Wildly.”
“I don’t believe you when your eyes don’t get in on the smile.”
“Riley—” She shook her head, helplessly grinning.
“That’s better. You have a beautiful smile, you know. It makes me think you’re smiling just for me. A guy could melt under a smile like that. It’s unforgettable.”
“‘A guy?’ Not you?”
He paused. Shrugged one shoulder. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you. You, begging me for that fling we talked about.” His gaze held her, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Remember?”
“Don’t hold your breath.” Jayne began to feel drawn in, bedazzled by his interest. How was it that Riley could affect her this way, when she didn’t even have the power to keep him interested in a relationship he’d seemed happy with? She held the army knife toward him. “I just came to return this. Thanks for the loan.”
Their fingers touched. Riley used the contact to hold her in position, crouched amid lonely rocks and endless skies. A fierce longing swept through her. Why did things have to be this way? Why couldn’t she get over him? Why hadn’t she thought to comb her hair before coming here?
“I thought this would still be bagged in Tyvek,” he said.
“I cut it out of the bag for you.”
He nodded. Looked at her seriously. “Did it work?”
“Cutting it out of the bag? Of course it worked. You can see that it’s right there—”
“That’s not what I mean.”
Jayne tilted her head. Their fingers still touched, and she wished he’d just accept the knife and be done with it. Looking at it had raised memories of all the times Riley had used it to help her in some way or another. She didn’t want to be reminded anymore. Not when there was no future in it.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“The Memorabilia Mash Mambo. Did it crush whatever memories you had of us?”
“‘Crush?’ Geez, that’s putting it kind of harshly. Don’t you think so?”
She looked at him and saw that he did not, in fact, “think so.” His expression was wary, his gaze direct. Jayne blinked with surprise. A person would almost think….
“My workshop techniques aren’t meant to be therapeutic for me,” she told him, pushing the folded knife into his palm at last. She stood, brushing dust from her pants. “They’re meant to help my breakup-ees get over the hurts in their lives.”
“What about your hurts? What about your bozo ex-boyfriend?”
“Truthfully?” Jayne crossed her arms. “The more time goes by, the more I wonder if I really knew him at all. What we had…wasn’t what I thought we had.”
Riley nodded sagely. She couldn’t believe he didn’t know she was really talking about him. About their relationship. She decided to change the subject.
“What about you? What are your plans after this guide job is finished?”
“I’m up for a National Explorer photography assignment in Antigua. After that, a potential story on swimming with whales in Patagonia.” Idly, he examined a bank of fluffy clouds scuttling overhead. “I don’t think about the future much,
though. When you’re dangling from a cliff in Peru, there’s not a lot of time to worry about next week. You take care of right now, the rest takes care of itself.”
For the first time, she understood his philosophy. It was a revelatory moment, given how opposite they’d seemed at times.
“You know, I found that out myself,” Jayne said excitedly, “when I was writing my book. It was a huge project. Impossible to finish all in one day. I just had to take it page by page.”
“And you finished it. To great acclaim.”
She nodded. “Imagine that, huh? The woman who could hardly wait for her manicure to dry, hitting it big by being patient. Until now, my book was my greatest achievement.”
“And now?”
“Well, now I need another book. My breakup workbook.”
He make a face. “Sounds grueling. Sure you don’t want to escape to Antigua with me and get away from it all?”
The friendly atmosphere between them froze. She’d been humming along, finally relating to Riley’s day-by-day philosophy for the first time, and then…bam.
She couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t look and see the earnestness in his face—before he remembered he liked to travel alone.
“Tell you what,” Jayne managed to say. “I’ll run off to the tropics with you right after I fall for that fling you keep dreaming about between us. Okay?”
Since she had no intention of doing that, it seemed a safe statement to make. And since Riley was likely to move on to the next adventure before fulfilling his end of the challenge they’d issued each other, he seemed likely to agree.
He did. “You’re on,” he said, then got up and headed alongside her back to their temporary camp—just as though he meant to get started on it right away.
Alexis ducked behind a creosote bush as Uncle Riley and Jayne passed by. Hidden behind its wiry branches and tiny blossoms, she watched them stride side-by-side back to the campsite.
