He’d been in love with her for years, only he hadn’t known it. They’d had a special friendship all that time, and they now had a chance to have even more. Rich didn’t want to say or do anything that would jeopardize their marriage or their friendship.
Things hadn’t gone well when he’d phoned her Monday afternoon. The tension during that call still made him wince. Rich had said none of what he’d wanted to say, nor had he done anything to assure her of his love. Jamie had sounded stilted and uncertain. The conversation was over almost before it started—although at least it had ended on a lighter note. Thank goodness for ice cream.
He’d been tempted to call her again several times since, but decided it would be best to wait until they could meet face-to-face. There was less likelihood of misunderstandings that way.
Rich had done a lot of thinking about what he needed to tell her. First, they had to put aside any pettiness, let go of any jealousy, vanquish any fears. Then they’d discuss their feelings. If the conversation went the way he hoped it would, he’d go home with her and spend the night.
Why not?
They were married. It didn’t make sense for Jamie to get pregnant by artificial means when they were fully capable of doing it naturally.
Capable and eager.
He didn’t plan to bring that up right away, of course, but he planned to let her know it was what he wanted.
During the remaining time he spent waiting for her, Rich entertained several ways of handling their discussion. Furthermore, he felt they should seriously consider moving in together. Since Jamie owned her place, it would be sensible for him to make the switch, but they’d eventually buy a house.
He was mulling over which neighborhood would suit them when Jamie walked into The Cookie Jar, wearing a full-length navy blue coat.
“Hi. I’m not late, am I?” she asked, slipping into the seat opposite him.
She looked so good. Rich had trouble keeping his eyes off her. “No…no.” He summoned the waitress and asked Jamie what she’d like.
“Hot tea, please,” Jamie said, smiling up at the teenager.
“Coffee for me,” he told the waitress.
“You want your chocolate sundae now?” he asked
Jamie shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m still recuperating from the flu.” She folded her hands primly in her lap, her gaze avoiding his.
This wasn’t as promising as Rich had hoped. “So you’re still battling the bug?” Now that she mentioned it, she did look pale.
She nodded, her gaze following their waitress.
“They sure are young these days, aren’t they?” he said, his eyes following hers.
She glanced at him as though she didn’t understand what he meant. Rich motioned toward the teenager.
Jamie nodded, her eyebrows raised. “Pretty, too.”
Rich hadn’t noticed. A sixteen-year-old in braces did nothing for him. Jamie on the other hand sent his senses into orbit. All he had to do, he reminded himself, was be honest with her. Honesty led to intimacy—which led to the bedroom.
The girl brought their coffee and tea, smiling demurely. Jamie returned her smile and picked up the sugar container, shaking some into her tea and stirring it briskly. Rich couldn’t remember her using sugar before, but this wasn’t the time to mention it.
“I wanted to talk about what happened Friday night,” he said, leaning forward, cupping the warm mug in both hands.
“Why?”
“Well, because…” He sipped his coffee before answering. Her question had caught him off guard. “It’s brought another dimension into our relationship.”
“H-how do you feel about…our relationship having another dimension?” Once again she cast her gaze around the room, looking everywhere but at him.
“I think it has the potential to be good,” he said, striving to sound matter-of-fact. If he let on too quickly that he was crazy in love with Jamie, he might scare her off.
“The potential to be good,” she repeated, her voice so low he had to strain to hear her.
“Yes. Unfortunately we weren’t able to discuss it Saturday morning.” Rich watched as Jamie went stiff. He realized she hadn’t liked him leaving and wondered if she’d misinterpreted the situation. He’d do his best to make amends now. “I apologize about heading out early. It might have—”
“Stop.” She raised her hand.
“Stop?”
“There’s no need to apologize. None. The last couple of days at home I’ve had plenty of time to think.”
He nodded in relief. Apparently Jamie had come to the same conclusions as he had. He sipped his coffee and leaned back.
“You were right.”
Rich nodded again. A man always likes to hear the truth.
“Having dinner with Floyd was an error in judgment on my part, although it was completely innocent. After your experience with Pamela, I should’ve understood your feelings. As your friend…I should’ve been able to hear what you were really saying. If there’s any blame to be placed over…over what happened, I want you to know…”
“Blame,” Rich repeated. The word fired his anger, and adrenaline shot into his veins.
“Yes, I just wanted you to know I’m willing to accept the blame.”
Hearing it a second time didn’t improve his disposition. Rich set his mug back on the table with enough force to slosh coffee over the edges. “No one said anything about placing or accepting blame. If that’s what you’re here to do, I suggest we end this discussion right now.”
“I was just trying to—”
“Then don’t.”
Jamie’s gaze fell to her mug of tea, cradled between her hands. From the rise and fall of her shoulders, Rich could see how hard she was trying to avoid another argument.
He was too angry to make the effort. Blame. She wanted to allot blame for the most fantastic night of his life. Hers, too, but she was too proud to admit it.
Everything he’d hoped to accomplish—making this marriage real, moving in together, buying a home and creating a child, a son or daughter who’d be born from their love—seemed to disappear before his eyes. He’d longed for this meeting, hoped it would give them a way to move naturally from being friends to being lovers. Married lovers.
“I’ve done it again,” she whispered.
“Done what?”
“Made you mad.”
He knew it hadn’t been her intention to offend him. Judging by the bewildered look in her eyes, she didn’t understand why he felt angry.
“It’s happened already, hasn’t it?” Her words were so shaky, Rich half expected her to break into tears. “We’ve killed our friendship.”
“Not necessarily.” She looked pale, and here he was, furious with her, when all he wanted to do was take her in his arms.
“I knew this would happen,” she said with sigh. “Marriage just isn’t going to work. Our feelings are all muddled up…we hardly know how to act around each other anymore.”
Rich sat silent and morose. What she said was true.
“What do you suggest?” he asked after a while.
“I…I don’t know. I thought I knew what I wanted. Now I’m not sure.”
Rich didn’t know, either. He wanted her as his wife, but he needed to be positive that she shared his feelings. What man didn’t need that type of reassurance? It had all seemed so straightforward earlier. Now he was floundering.
“Do you feel up to walking?” he asked.
His question obviously surprised Jamie, but she nodded.
“Good.” Rich reached for their tab, then left some money on the table.
They were in the old neighborhood now. The brick two-story high school they’d once attended was two blocks over. By tacit agreement they headed in that direction. Jamie wrapped a scarf around her neck and buried her hands in her pockets. Rich did the same, but he would rather have held hands with her.
They’d gone a block before either of them spoke.
“I used to think you
were the handsomest boy at school.”
“Me?” Rich laughed. “You certainly didn’t let me know it.”
“I couldn’t. You were vain enough.”
Rich smiled. “I used to wish I had as easy a time with grades as you did.”
“Easy?” she repeated with a short, mocking laugh. “I worked my tail off.”
“Remember our ten-year reunion?”
Jamie nodded. “You were with some blonde. You always went for blondes, didn’t you?”
He ignored her remark. “You were with that guy who looked like David Letterman,” he said.
“Ralph was a nice guy.”
“Nice and dull.” Rich didn’t know why he’d bothered to bring Elaine. He’d much rather have spent the evening with Jamie. As it was, they’d danced nearly every dance together.
“At least all of Ralph’s brains weren’t located below his neckline.”
“Speaking of which,” Rich said, grinning boyishly.
Jamie whirled around to face him, her eyes spitting fire. “Don’t you dare bring up the size of my bust. Don’t…you dare.”
Rich couldn’t hold back his smile. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”
“Did I ever mention the karate lessons I took? I learned how to disarm a man in three easy moves. Don’t tempt me, Manning.”
“You tempt me.” Rich didn’t know what made him say it, but now that it was out, he wasn’t sorry. Jamie went still at his side, unmoving in the dim light from the street lamp. Rich raised his hand and glided his fingertips over her face. Her eyes drifted shut.
“I…don’t think this is a good idea….”
He stopped her, tracing the outline of her lips with his index finger. He circled once, twice, three times….
“Why not?”
Her eyes remained closed, and she swayed toward him. Rich reached for her, pressing her close.
“There…was something I wanted to say,” she whispered.
“Oh.” He buried his face in her hair, inhaling its sweet scent. Rich didn’t know how they could be at odds with each other when the attraction between them was this strong.
“You…you shouldn’t distract me.”
“Do you want me to stop?” His lips grazed the underside of her jaw. She tilted her head.
“Not yet….”
“Should I kiss you?”
“Please.”
It was all the encouragement he needed. He brought his mouth to hers and wrapped his arms around her, nearly lifting her from the sidewalk. Her arms crept up his chest, pausing at his shoulders. The kissing was even better than it had been before, something Rich hadn’t thought possible.
His mouth moved hungrily over hers, and when she sighed and parted her lips, he swept her mouth with his tongue. Jamie reacted with a swift intake of breath, winding her arms around his neck.
Rich had never intended to kiss her like this. Not on a public street half a block from where they’d attended school. He wanted her soft and yielding in his arms. And in his bed. Soon.
The salty taste of tears shocked him. She was crying. He pulled his mouth from hers. “Jamie, what’s wrong?”
“Everything…nothing.” She kissed him back, her open mouth over his. It was as sensuous as anything he’d ever known.
“You’re crying.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re making everything so difficult.”
“How am I doing that?” She remained in his embrace, his hand pressing the small of her back.
“Kissing me…You weren’t supposed to do that.”
“I’m not?”
“No…but don’t stop.”
“I don’t plan to.” Rich didn’t need further encouragement. His kiss was urgent, filled with unleashed desire. They’d wasted precious days, hiding behind their fears. All along, they could’ve been rejoicing in the discovery of their love.
“Rich…”
Reluctantly, he broke off the kiss, his chest heaving. He took her hand, folding it in his own, and started back toward The Cookie Jar. “Let’s get out of here.”
“I…suppose we should.”
“It’s either that or make love to you in the middle of the street.”
“Make love to me?”
Surely it was what she expected. A man didn’t kiss a woman like that without her knowing what he had in mind, especially if that woman was his wife!
“But…we need to talk.”
“Later.” His steps were brisk. The sooner he got back to his apartment, the sooner he could kiss her again. He didn’t want to give her the opportunity to change her mind.
“There’s something we should talk over first.”
“What? Can’t it wait?
She shook her head. “I would’ve said it earlier…. I planned to, but then you suggested the walk and…we started kissing and now I’m more confused than ever.”
He stopped at his car, unlocked the passenger door, then turned to face her. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he met her gaze, relieved to see the hunger in her eyes. “All right, Jamie, tell me whatever it is.”
She brushed the tears from her cheeks, and drew in a deep, steadying breath. “Because of Friday night.”
That again! “Yes?”
“I was thinking you might want to…you know?”
Rich thought he did. She was about to suggest what he’d been considering for the last few days—that they take this marriage seriously and move in together.
“If it’s what you want, it’s what I want,” he said, brushing the hair from her face, his fingers lingering on the softness of her skin.
Her eyes closed, and she bit her trembling lower lip. “I don’t know what I want anymore…and I don’t think you do, either.”
“Sure I do,” he countered. He wanted her.
“I think we should give serious consideration to…”
“To what?”
“A divorce.”
Nine
Rich jerked away from her as though he’d received an electric shock.
“A divorce!” he bellowed.
It wasn’t what Jamie preferred, but she felt honor-bound to offer Rich the option. They’d broken their agreement, the promises they’d made to each other before the wedding.
The decision to make love had been mutual; nevertheless everything had changed, and they couldn’t continue pretending it hadn’t. Their lovemaking was so powerful, so moving, Jamie would treasure the memory all her life. Every time she thought about falling asleep, nestled against Rich, she went weak.
“A divorce,” Rich repeated.
Jamie shuddered. He’d never know what it had cost her to make the offer. Jamie prayed Rich would give her some indication that Friday night had been as meaningful and as beautiful for him as it had been for her.
“So you want a divorce?” he said, slamming the passenger door of his car.
“I…I didn’t say it’s what I wanted.”
“Then why did you suggest it?”
“Because…well, because things are different now.”
“You’re right about that,” he muttered. “I don’t even know you anymore.”
Jamie chose to ignore his outburst. “We’d agreed this was to be a marriage of convenience.”
“You didn’t exactly fight me off, you know.”
Jamie’s cheeks exploded with scalding color. “No…I didn’t, but it doesn’t alter the fact that we breached our agreement—and before we go on with our plans, I feel we should reevaluate our options and our commitment.”
“You sound just like a banker. Cold and calculating. What’s the matter? Are you afraid of a little emotion?” His eyes were seething with anger.
If Jamie thought he was furious when he’d confronted her with Floyd, his anger on Friday night paled in comparison to the fury she saw now.
“We’re not teenagers anymore,” she said as calmly as her voice would allow. “We’re responsible, mature adults who can make deci
sions based on something other than hormones.”
“So Friday night was nothing more than a roll in the hay for you?”
“I didn’t say that.” Jamie was growing angry herself. “You’re purposely misconstruing everything I’ve said. Friday night happened. Good or bad, it happened. We can’t pretend it didn’t.”
“I had no intention of forgetting it or ignoring it or anything else.”
“Then why did it take you until Monday afternoon to call me?” she cried. “Why did you sneak away in the middle of the night without a word? I woke up feeling like…like a one-night stand.”
“You aren’t the only one who was disappointed,” Rich said loudly. “It wouldn’t have hurt you to call me.”
“You abandoned me.”
“I made you feel like a one-night stand?” Rich paced the sidewalk. He rammed his fingers through his hair. “A one-night stand? That’s ridiculous. We’re married!”
“No, we’re not,” she argued. “Not really. I don’t…”
“I’ve got the papers to prove it. Talk about denial! A wedding is a wedding, so don’t try to add a list of qualifiers to it now.”
“Those qualifiers were added before the ceremony.”
“So you want out.” He turned toward her, his face contorted with anger, his blue eyes piercing.
“I’m simply giving you the option. Our relationship has changed, and we can’t act as if it hasn’t.”
“And I am?”
“Yes!” she shouted. “If I hadn’t said anything we’d be halfway to your place by now. We both know I would’ve ended up spending the night, and then what?”
She didn’t let him answer. “Then tomorrow morning,” she resumed, answering her own question, “everything would be awkward again and there wouldn’t be time to say or do anything because we’d both need to get to work.”
Already Jamie could picture the scene. They’d be rushing around dressing, embarrassed and uncomfortable with each other, the way they’d been when Rich had phoned her Monday afternoon. There wouldn’t be time to talk, but they’d exchange polite pleasantries while he drove her back to Forty-third Street so she could pick up her car. Then she’d have to dash home and change clothes again before going to work.
“It wouldn’t have to be that way.”
The Manning Brides Page 11
