A Love for All Seasons

by Bettye Griffin

  Two African-American women entered the bar area and sat nearby, leaving just one stool between them. Jack toyed with his Scotch and entertained himself with thoughts of the pleasant evening that lay ahead. He looked over when he heard a question he believed was directed at him.

  “How are you tonight?” a female voice inquired.

  He looked over at the women to make sure one of them had addressed him and not some other person. One of them, a striking brown-skinned woman, smiled at him, while the other looked away and appeared uncomfortable. “Good, thanks. You?”

  “Not bad. What brings you out tonight?”

  “I’m meeting a young lady.”

  “My friend is a young lady,” the woman pointed out. Her friend jabbed her in the ribs and mouthed the words, “Stop it!”

  He chuckled as the first one said, “Ouch! That hurt, Charlene!” Both women appeared to be in their early forties. The one doing the talking wore engagement and wedding rings; and Charlene’s ring finger was bare. Apparently Charlene’s friend wanted to fix her up with someone.

  “I’m meeting a specific young lady,” he clarified, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement.

  “Oh, that’s too bad.”

  “Will you forget about it already, Andrea?” Charlene hissed.

  “Listen, you can’t spend your life waiting around for Reggie to get off his butt. Your biological clock isn’t just ticking, it’s about to blow up.”

  “Reggie and I are doing just fine.”

  “So what are you doing out with me on a Saturday night, having Merlot and lobster bisque? You called, all upset because you think Reggie’s up to something and you don’t know what it is. I say there are plenty of other fish in the sea. You wait and see, this man’s date won’t look half as good as you do, Charlene. If you wouldn’t be so shy you could probably make him forget all about her.”

  Although they spoke reasonably softly, in trying to be heard over the sound of the television poised over the bar their voices carried, which didn’t allow Jack to make out everything they said, but he could follow the gist of their conversation. He found Andrea’s comment about his date not looking half as good as Charlene particularly humorous. I wouldn’t bet on it, he thought. Charlene was certainly attractive, and he’d never shied away from dating women slightly older than himself. Under different circumstances he might take the bait. But make him forget Alicia? Not a chance.

  He’d almost finished his drink when his peripheral vision saw movement on the left. He looked up to see the maître d’ leading Alicia to where he sat.

  He quickly got to his feet. “Miss Timberlake, sir,” the maître d’ announced with a flourish. “Your table is ready. I’ll have someone bring you to it when you’re ready.” He then bowed stiffly and turned to leave.

  Jack had a vague awareness of the maître d’ approaching and saying something. As far as he was concerned, the heavyset gent might as well have been both invisible and silent. He had eyes only for the figure behind him.

  For a moment all he could do was simply drink her in. She wore an open, belted white wool coat with a berry-colored scarf draped over her neck and a black pantsuit with a tailored double-breasted blazer. The starkness of the black-and-white ensemble was relieved by lips painted the same berry color as her scarf, lips he knew would taste sweet as strawberries in June. He wanted to savor them with his tongue and nibble at their fullness.

  Blood rushed to his groin. No, Jack, he told himself. What you need is to forget about what you want, at least for right now.

  She stood silently as his eyes roamed over her with obvious approval. Finally she broke into a shy smile. “Hello, Jack.”

  He took her hand in both of his, raised it parallel to his mouth and kissed the back of it, his eyes never leaving hers. “I think that’s the first time you ever said my real name,” he said as he lowered her hand, continuing to hold it.

  “My inclination would be to walk in and say, ‘Hiya, Dev,’ but somehow it didn’t suit the mood,” she said honestly.

  That told him that she, too, felt the sparks in the air between them. He stroked the back of her hand with the pad of his thumb. “I’m glad you could make it.”

  “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

  He loved the sound of her voice, all husky and low. Much as he hated to, he let go of her hand. “Not long,” he said easily. In his heart he knew he would have sat there for hours, just to get a glimpse of her. “We should get our table.” He noticed the eyes of Andrea and Charlene fixed on them. Neither woman moved to try to make their staring more subtle. If anything, he thought their mouths might drop into their soup bowls.

  “Ladies,” he said, “this is my dinner partner. Alicia, this is Andrea and her friend Charlene.”

  Alicia nodded pleasantly, if a bit uncertainly. “Ladies.”

  The women’s shocked expressions at Jack’s use of their names told Jack they realized he’d overheard their conversation. “A pleasant evening to you,” he said jauntily. He removed a single from his wallet and laid it by his highball glass, then took Alicia’s elbow and escorted her out of the bar.

  “Friends of yours?” she asked, sounding mildly curious.

  “No. It appears one of them is trying to console the other over an issue involving a man.”

  “What other kind of issues are there?” she said with a throaty chuckle.

  As they left the bar area a hostess offered to take Alicia’s coat. He stood behind her and removed it, stepping back as he handed it to the hostess just in time to see her turn around slowly. “Wow,” he said under his breath, too softly for her to hear. He’d only glimpsed her at the restaurant, of course, and at the party her loose-fitting sweater, at nearly tunic length, did much to conceal her figure, but the black pantsuit left little to be guessed at. Alicia might possess an imposing height, but she was no toothpick thin high fashion model. The short tailored jacket—she wore no blouse beneath—accentuated a cinched waist, rounded bust and lush, full hips. He liked his women curvy.

  When the maître d’ held out her chair, Jack wanted to push him aside and do it himself. “If I may say so, Mr. Devlin,” the maître d’ said, “you were absolutely correct in your description of Miss Timberlake.”

  “I’m glad you agree.”

  She waited until he departed, then turned a curious gaze on him. “Your description was correct, huh? Tell me, Jack, how did you describe me?”

  “I said you would be the most astoundingly beautiful woman to ever enter this establishment.”

  “What a sweet embellishment!” she exclaimed, obviously flattered.

  He leaned forward, his eyes captivated by the black onyx oval overlaid with ivory and gold that tantalizingly teased her cleavage. Her hair looked fuller than he remembered. He pictured her reclining in bed, her dark hair fanned out against a pastel pillowcase, waiting for him….

  A lump momentarily became stuck in his throat at that mental vision. Eventually he managed to say, “It was no embellishment, Alicia.”

  She tried to be cool from the moment she stepped inside the famed steakhouse, but his special way of pronouncing her name took her breath away. She inadvertently rolled her head back and shivered, her shoulders momentarily rising around her neck, her chest rising. “You’re very kind,” she managed to say. In truth, she’d gone through special pains with her appearance, having driven into Stamford this afternoon to have her hair washed and set. Laverne, her longtime hairdresser, made her tresses look beautifully thick, like a lion’s mane. She’d even bought new shoes, black slingbacks with a two-inch heel, to go with her suit.

  “How’s your mother today?” he asked, graciously not commenting on her reaction.

  “She’s good, thanks.” She opened her menu.

  As they enjoyed an appetizer of bacon-wrapped broiled sea scallops and sipped on Pinot Noir, Alicia companionably said, “Tell me about Jack Devlin.”

  “Hey, I’m an open book, and probably not all that exciting, either. I’m ori
ginally from a small town outside Birmingham called Docena. I went to Fisk for my Bachelor’s and started working in Galveston, Texas. I stayed there seven years, then went to Houston—which is like an hour away from Galveston—for three, then back to Birmingham.”

  “Does your family still live in your hometown?”

  “Most of them, yes. One of my sisters lives in Memphis, and I have a brother in Houston.”

  “Do you have a large family?”

  “We were seven. I’ve got two sisters and two brothers. I’m the second oldest child and the oldest boy. My father was a postman, and my mother worked for the Jefferson County School Board. They managed to give all five of us college educations.”

  “Quite a feat.”

  “We all think so.”

  His handsome face reflected the pride he felt in his parents’ accomplishments. “They’ve been married over forty years.”

  “That’s a long time.”

  “It sure is. I can’t imagine being married to someone for that long. That’s more than my entire lifetime.” He smiled at her. “I suppose you’ve never been married.” From what Pete told him Jack already knew she hadn’t, but it might be interesting if she gave any views on the subject.

  “No. I don’t think I’m the marrying type.”

  “Oh? Why’s that?”

  “Living with the same person, year after year…I’m afraid I’d get bored.”

  Jack didn’t know what to say. Alicia made marriage sound no more meaningful than a marathon session of bid whist. If that was how she felt he couldn’t say he hoped to one day find the right woman without sounding like a sap. “I think there’s something to be said for having a life partner,” he finally said. “For me it’s infinitely more preferable than going through life with a series of, uh, significant others, drifting from one affair to the next.” He didn’t see how she could feel otherwise, but then he thought of Derek Taylor and how he kissed Alicia’s lips when he left her party, and suddenly his shoulders went taut.

  “What about you, Jack? Ever been married?”

  “I was engaged once.”

  “What happened?”

  “She broke it off. An old lover came back into her life, and she realized she wasn’t ready to commit to me.” He shrugged. “The way I see it, it was for the best. Better to find out sooner than later.”

  After dinner they shared a raspberry soufflé, laughing and talking about a variety of topics, including their respective professions. “I enjoyed this, Jack,” Alicia said as she delicately patted around her mouth with her napkin. “Thank you.”

  “It sounds like you’ve been under a lot of stress lately, with your mother being ill. I’m glad you were able to get away for a few hours.” He hadn’t exaggerated. His watch read ten-twenty p.m., which meant they’d been sitting here for nearly two-and-a-half hours. For him it wasn’t nearly enough time.

  “Time has been passing so quickly. Can you believe that in another few weeks it’ll be Thanksgiving?”

  “Fortunately, I made my reservations the moment I accepted the job here.”

  “You must be going home to Alabama.”

  “Yes, for a long weekend. I leave Tuesday afternoon and come back Saturday.”

  “I’m surprised you’re not staying until Sunday.”

  “The Sunday after Thanksgiving is a mob scene. Everybody’s going back home that day. I think the only day that’s worse is the Wednesday before. I figured I’d travel on Saturday and avoid some of the insanity.”

  “That makes sense. Will you be spending Christmas with your family, too?”

  “No. I’ve got a huge project pending with a deadline just after the holiday. DVD, titles, the whole nine yards. I won’t be able to take any time off until after the first of the year.”

  Their waiter appeared just then. “You can bring me the check,” Jack requested. Then he turned his attention back to the lovely woman sitting opposite him. “I’m not accustomed to that. Usually I take off the last week of the year. You see, my birthday is Christmas Eve.”

  She drew in her breath. “No!”

  “Yes. People do get born on Christmas Eve, you know.”

  “I know. I’m one of them.”

  His head jerked. “Really? I don’t think I’ve met three people my whole life who shared my birthday.”

  “I only knew one person, someone from school. How old will you be?”

  “Thirty-seven.”

  “I’ll be thirty-five.” Her face brightened. “Have you made any plans for that day?”

  “Not yet. It’s still early.”

  “Why don’t we plan on spending it together?”

  He broke into a grin. “It’s a date.”

  He opened the door for her as they left, then linked his arm with hers. “Now I’m thinking that I should have insisted on picking you up instead of having you meet me,” he said. “I don’t like the thought of you going home alone.” She seemed steady on her feet, and she spoke clearly and distinctly, but that didn’t change the fact that she’d had at least three glasses of wine. He didn’t want her going out and getting into an accident.

  “I’ll be fine, Jack. I only have to drive maybe ten miles.”

  “I’d like you to call me when you get back to your mother’s.”

  “I will. This is me.” They stopped in front of a red Solara convertible. Alicia clicked her remote control, and the lights flashed for a second, indicating unlocking doors.

  “Nice ride.” Jack began to feel a little nervous. When he suggested she might want to meet him he didn’t consider the awkwardness of saying good night in a public parking lot. He’d been so anxious for her to agree to go out with him, he hadn’t wanted to provide her with any outs. Fortunately, like him she self-parked instead of using the valet. The last thing he wanted now was an audience.

  “I’ve been happy with it. I keep it at the house so I don’t have to deal with the hassle of parking in the city.” She turned to him and grasped his forearm through his suit coat. “I had a nice time, Jack.”

  In an instant he moved in, placing his hands on her shoulders and pulling her to him. He couldn’t kiss her the way he wanted to, not here where other patrons might see them, but he just had to get even a quick taste of those luscious berry red lips. He raised his right hand to cup her jaw and raised her face to his, then quickly pressed his lips to hers, running his tongue over them for an instant before pulling away. Her skin felt soft and warm to his fingertips. He could caress it infinitely.

  Reluctantly he let his hand fall to his sides. “So did I, but next time I’ll definitely call for you.” That meant he could bring her home…and kiss her properly.

  He held the car door open while she seated herself behind the wheel. She started the engine and lowered the window. “I promise I’ll call you when I get in. I’ve got your number on my caller ID. But you should really get to your car and out of this cold.”

  “All right. Drive carefully.”

  He returned the wave she gave him before driving away, then stood watching as the Solara went out to the main road before turning to walk toward his own vehicle.

  He’d just eaten a full meal, but he was still hungry.

  Just not for food.

  Chapter 10

  Something

  Alicia’s hands trembled on the steering wheel. She flicked on the heat, but her jitteriness didn’t come from being cold, and she turned it off.

  It came from the feel of Jack Devlin’s strong hands on her shoulders, drawing her close to him. It came from his long fingers on the side of her face, warming her cheek and making contact with that sensitive spot behind her earlobe…and it came from his insistent lips and moist tongue against her mouth.

  No doubt about it. The man was dangerous. She knew all about sexual exhilaration, but Jack represented something else, something deeper, exactly what she still hadn’t identified. At least she had begun to feel more comfortable with him. The feelings of unease didn’t hit until he kissed her in the p
arking lot.

  She considered staying away from him until she had a better handle on her feelings. Maybe something would jog her memory and she would finally understand her reactions to him.

  But even as she had the thought of staying away from Jack she knew she wouldn’t do it.

  Because she could no more ignore the pull she felt toward him than she could defy gravity.

  Alicia returned to a quiet house. She’d hoped her mother would be asleep. She wasn’t ready to answer any questions about Jack, and she knew her mother would ask.

  She went to her room and removed her coat, all the while remembering her promise to Jack. She’d call him, but now she felt the old uneasiness returning. She needed to do something first….

  She quickly undressed and washed her face, patting it dry. The tartan plaid flannel pajamas she packed weren’t very feminine—actually, they were hideous—but at least they didn’t require a bathrobe in case she ran into her brother-in-law, Todd, on the stairs. She plodded down the back stairs to the kitchen. She and Jack had shared a bottle of Pinot Noir with their meal, but she wanted something to bolster her when she called him, just in case she got that nervous feeling. Talking to him on the telephone usually didn’t make her unstrung, but this would be the first time they talked since that kiss less than an hour ago.

  She found a half-empty bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon in the liquor cabinet, and she carried it upstairs with her, along with a glass.

  She poured herself a glass and took a generous swallow before sitting down and reaching for her cell phone. She looked up his number on her list of incoming calls, then pressed the Send button to autodial. As the connection went through she took another swallow of wine, her fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass.

  He answered on the first ring. “Are you home?”

  “Yes.” He’d obviously glanced at the caller ID before answering. “I’m fine, Jack.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  She smiled and began to relax. Talking to him on the telephone after that kiss outside the restaurant didn’t perturb her like she thought it might. Still, she held on to her glass. “Thank you for tonight, Jack. I had a nice time.”