BY THE HOUR, ATLANTA, Book 1

by LaBrecque, Jennifer

  “I don’t think so.” Janice braced her elbows on the table and leaned in closer still. “Look, Arden, you’re different from me and Deborah. We can separate the sex from the emotion, but you’ve never been that way. That’s why a one-time fling with a stranger worked for you; there wasn’t any possibility for attachment, but that seems to be changing.”

  Arden’s belly knotted at the ring of truth in Janice’s words. But it wasn’t all accurate. “I’m not attached to him. How can I be? I don’t know anything about him.” Except how he tasted, smelled, felt, and sounded. “We haven’t exchanged any information, either personal or professional. We haven’t exactly engaged in get-to-know-you conversation in the whopping three hours we’ve spent in each other’s company.” They’d spent an hour and a half together twice now. The truth, however, was that she’d spent a whole lot of time thinking about him.

  And he could be here right now. If Arden pushed her, Janice would point him out. Arden could end this right now by finding out his name. Janice wouldn’t even have to fill in the blanks; an online search would do that. Did she want to know? Was she ready for it to be over? No. Not yet.

  Looking visibly relieved, Janice took a long swallow of her drink. “Okay, I hear you. So, if you’re telling me it’s okay, then it’s okay. You know, I don’t want to see you get hurt. Just don’t get in too deep, sweetie. You know it was a one-time good-time stranger sex. Keep that in mind.”

  “I appreciate it. It’s fine.” And that was a bold-faced lie. She was already in deep. Too deep.

  * * *

  “Stop, Kennedy! Please…you have to stop!” Georgina gasped.

  She hadn’t known exactly what to expect, but it hadn’t been this. She couldn’t remember when she’d laughed this much or had so much fun. Kennedy was hysterical. A date with Kennedy was vastly different from a date with George, but then again, they were about as different as two men could be. Georgina had never laughed as much as she had this evening.

  “It’s the truth.” His story about falling asleep on his first date ever had her nearly crying. “I swear I’m not lying,” he said.

  She’d never noticed before tonight how his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.

  “It doesn’t even matter whether it’s the truth or not.” She pressed her palms against her cheeks. “My face hurts from laughing so much.”

  “Laughing’s good for you.”

  Georgina realized it had been a long time since she’d felt as good as she did now. “You may be right.”

  The waitress stopped by. “I can take the check whenever you’re ready.”

  Georgina glanced around. They were the last ones in the place. She and Kennedy had been tucked away at a corner table and she’d been so busy talking and laughing, she hadn’t paid any attention to what was going on around them. The evening had flown by. She reached for her purse, and Kennedy stopped her with a quelling glance. “I’ve got it.”

  Georgina opened her mouth to protest she could take care of her portion of the bill. Shaking his head, he cut her off. “I said I’ve got it. Let’s get a dessert to go.” Not waiting on her to respond, he offered the waitress a charming smile. “Is it too late?”

  She smiled prettily in return, but then Georgina couldn’t imagine anyone, especially a female, wouldn’t smile back when Kennedy turned on the charm. The man had it in spades, even when he was being peremptory. The waitress said, “It’ll just take a minute. Would you like to see the menu?”

  “Please,” he said.

  Promptly, two menus were delivered. Georgina gave a cursory scan, not willing to admit she’d checked it out early on. It was a no-brainer as far as she was concerned.

  “See anything that whets your appetite?”

  “I shouldn’t. I don’t need a dessert. And the portions here are huge.” She’d noticed a dessert at the next table when they were seated. She nibbled at her lip in indecision. “But I love tiramisu.”

  “Want to share it?”

  Georgina nodded. “That works for me.”

  Kennedy handed over his credit card and within minutes, the bill settled and a to-go box in-hand, they stepped out onto the sidewalk.

  It was an interesting mix of sounds—the flow of traffic interspersed with the ever-present cicadas. A stream of cars cruised down Peachtree Street. Couples and groups were out, sitting at bistro tables, just hanging out. Two men, their arms linked, walking a leashed standard poodle, strolled past.

  They were dressed in a mismatched amalgamation. Kennedy waited until they were out of earshot of the poodle couple. “And that debunks the myth that all gay guys have a fashion sense,” he said.

  Georgina cracked up. “I was thinking the same thing.” Kennedy wasn’t all hung up on being politically correct. “The dog was the best dressed of the three.”

  “Nice night,” Kennedy said, his arm brushing against hers as a group jostled past them. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been aware of him, the breadth of his shoulders, the fact he had a good six inches in height on her, the various and sundry bulges, mainly the one below the waist and the ones in those upper arms. Oh, no, or rather yes, she was incredibly aware of him…and still incredibly unsure. She couldn’t get a read on him. This was all uncharted territory for her.

  She couldn’t quite tell if he was sexually interested in her or if they were just two work buddies out for an evening. The last thing she wanted to do was misinterpret his interest as sexual if it wasn’t and make a fool of herself explaining why they had to be “just friends.” It all had the potential to be incredibly awkward. Nonetheless, she was inexorably drawn to him.

  And as to his nice night assertion, Georgina wasn’t sure whether he was talking about the weather and the night itself, or their experience. However, all of the above was great so she readily agreed. “Yeah, it is.”

  They got to his vehicle, an older but immaculate Land Rover. He opened the passenger door for her. She slipped into the seat and he rounded the car, getting in on the driver’s side.

  It was one thing sharing a table and a bottle of wine, but there was something about the car. She could smell his aftershave or cologne or whatever it was, and she was suddenly keenly aware of just how long it had been since she’d shared a kiss, or anything else, with a man. She’d moved out two months ago, but things had been rocky between her and George before that. George had hated her taking the job at Eleven and begun sleeping on the couch in protest six months before she ever left. She wasn’t quite sure why she’d dug in her heels so hard on her job. Maybe because it was the first thing that was all her own. Maybe because it was the first time she was somewhere, doing something that was on her merit and not sufferance. And maybe it’s because she might just be a front desk clerk, but she was damn good at it. And as to sex appeal, George wasn’t even in the same league as Kennedy.

  “So, what came first?” Georgina said, desperate to focus on something other than his sex appeal in the close confines of the car. “Your impeccable manners on opening doors or is it just conditioning from the job?”

  “Maybe a little of both.” His grin flashed white in the darkened car, and Georgina curled her fingers around the armrest. “My grandfather drilled it in my head. My pops wasn’t much into it, but I’m more like my granddad than my dad anyway. The old head played the sax too. He was in a group called The Players back in the eighties.” He pulled into the stream of evening traffic.

  “That’s cool. Has he heard your group?”

  “No. He died when I was twenty-two.”

  She knew from chitchat at the hotel that he’d turned twenty-nine a few months ago. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t quite know what else to say.

  He shrugged. “It’s life. So, I take it you’re not one of those women offended by a man opening a door for her.”

  “Not a bit. You didn’t hear me complaining.”

  “True enough.”

  For the first time in the evening, a silence settled between them. It hovered in the no-man’s land betwee
n being quietly comfortable and awkwardness. Before it could go one way or another, Kennedy pulled up to her place.

  A painted cinderblock retaining wall, with a row of shrubs at the top all but blocked the view of the apartments beyond. A ramp at one end of the parking lot offered handicap access, but the rest of the area had two sets of stairs that led up to the sidewalk. Kennedy lucked up and caught an open spot near the stairs. He killed the engine and turned to her. Her heart took off like a jackhammer.

  “So…dessert?”

  Georgina felt incredibly foolish. She’d forgotten all about the tiramisu. “Oh, yeah, right. You know, I don’t need it. Just take it home with you.”

  “No way. We agreed to share it.”

  “But—”

  “You’ve got to at least have a couple of bites. It’s huge. It’s your civic duty.”

  “My civic duty?” She laughed. It was nice to spend time with a man who made her laugh. “Well, that makes all the difference in the world. Okay, a bite. Would you like to come in?”

  “It’s getting late. How about here in the car?”

  Once again, he hit her with the unexpected. She didn’t quite know what to make of him turning down her invitation. That was fine, however. Really, it was for the best. “Sure.”

  Kennedy pulled out the cake and the forks, and they dug in. Georgina pointed with her fork at the rest of the dessert in the box. “Oh, my God. That’s good.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  They both laughed, and Georgina dipped her fork for another bite.

  Thunk. Crunch. What the—

  “What the fuck?” Kennedy said.

  A man sat in a crouched position in the middle of Kennedy’s hood—right where he’d landed when he jumped up there.

  It took a split second for it—for him—to fully register in Georgina’s brain. She sat transfixed…mortified…horrified. “Holy shit.”

  “I’m going to kill that motherfucker.” Kennedy yanked open his door.

  She grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Please. Don’t kill him. That’s my husband.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  She watched George’s taillights fade into the night and despite it all, a sense of relief washed over her. He’d yelled a few obscenities and then run back to his car and taken off like a bat of out hell. If she hadn’t been so preoccupied with Kennedy, she would’ve noticed his car.

  “Okay, how about you tell me what that was all about,” Kennedy said.

  She didn’t want to think about it, much less talk about it. She kept her private business just that, private. But Kennedy had gotten dragged into it when George had landed smack dab in the center of his hood—which was now bent to hell and back and would require a body shop working some magic. She owed Kennedy an explanation.

  “Come on in. I don’t particularly want to cover my business outside in the parking lot.”

  They walked up the stairs to the sidewalk and on to her apartment in silence.

  She unlocked her door, flipped the switch turning on the table lamp and motioned him in ahead of her. “That’s my cat, Tallulah,” she said. The cat stood on the other side of the room, watching. She closed the door behind them and locked it. “Some cats are warm and fuzzy and want to sit on your lap. Tallulah’s not one of them. You want some coffee?”

  “Hell, after that, I could use a drink, but coffee’s probably a better choice.”

  Georgina went into the galley kitchen, which was open to the den, the two areas separated by a short counter. “Have a seat. Decaf work for you? I figure sleep’s going to be hard enough without cranking up on caffeine.”

  “Sure.” He sat, and she automatically prepared the coffee. She hit the “on” button and turned to face him. They’d both been biding their time and ignoring the elephant in the room while she played hostess.

  “That was some weird shit that just went down, Gina.”

  “Definitely.” She was so embarrassed she didn’t even know what to say. She shook her head. “I’m so sorry about your hood, I’ll—”

  “It can be fixed. Is he going to come back packing?”

  “Packing what?”

  “Heat. A gun.”

  “Oh, God, no.” That had never occurred to her. But then again she’d never expected him to play Tarzan on Kennedy’s hood. She wasn’t so sure of anything right now. “I don’t think so.”

  Kennedy simply waited, and she perched on the other end of the sofa and drew a deep breath. “George is bi-polar. He’s fine when he takes his meds—”

  “But that’s the shit that happens when he doesn’t take his meds?”

  She tried not to be defensive. “It’s never been anything like that, but he’s been erratic without the medication.”

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “He was diagnosed before we met, but he was on his meds then, while we dated and the first couple of years we were married. But he hasn’t medicated in six years.”

  “You lived with that for six years?”

  She laughed but it held no mirth. “In some ways it doesn’t feel that long and in other ways it feels more like a lifetime.” She wrapped her hands around her knees. She’d never actually discussed her marriage with anyone other than her mother-in-law. It was strange, but oddly liberating, to talk with someone else. “At first I didn’t know what was going on because I’d never known him without meds and it wasn’t as if he announced he’d stopped taking them. I thought it was pressure at work or he was having an affair or it was something I was or wasn’t doing.” Anne, her mother-in-law, had pointed Georgina in that direction. She could see it clearly now that she had some distance. Anne had suggested Georgina should keep the house cleaner, make more of George’s favorite foods, change her hairstyle—as if the problem was Georgina rather than her son’s disorder. “It took me about six months to figure it out.” And longer yet to figure out Anne knew George was off his meds and had withheld the information. Of course, Tolliver, George’s father, had known as well and he’d said nothing either. “You know what I mean?”

  “I guess. I’ve never really been there, but I can see it. Go on.”

  The coffee was ready. She talked while she went into the kitchen. “So, once I knew what was going on, we talked about it and he said he’d start again.” She poured two cups of java. “Cream? Sugar?” He shook his head at both. She took hers straight up as well. “It became a crazy circus. I believed him.”

  She handed Kennedy his cup and settling back on the other end of the sofa continued. “But he’d lie about it and his mother would cover for him. When you’re in the middle of it…I don’t know how to explain it. He’d swear he was taking his medicine, and I wanted to believe him. I wanted him to do it for himself. Then I thought if he loved me, at least he’d do it for me, but it just doesn’t work that way.” She wasn’t so sure now that he’d ever loved her, at least not in the way she longed to be loved. “They even have time-released meds. He won’t do it. He says he doesn’t like the way he feels on the meds. So…I finally left two months ago. I didn’t tell him where I was living, although obviously it wasn’t that hard to figure out…or he could’ve just followed me here from work.”

  “This is the first time he’s shown up?”

  “Yes.” She rubbed her hand over her face and laughed ruefully. “Really crap timing… I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry you got caught in this madness tonight. I’ll take care of getting your hood fixed.” She had no clue how she’d pay for it, but she’d find a way.

  Kennedy waved his hand in dismissal. “I was pissed, but now I know and I’m insured. Don’t worry about that. Are you going to be okay? Is he dangerous?”

  “Really, let me take care of your car—”

  “Goddammit, Gina. Fuck the hood. What about you? Are you going to be okay?”

  “Of course. Well, I think so. He’s never done anything like this before. He’s been calling, wanting to reconcile, telling me he’s ready for me to come back and he knows I’m ready to come back.” And
there had been numerous calls from Anne, her mother-in-law, alternately cajoling and then demanding Georgina return to George. She’d quit taking the calls after the first two weeks, but they kept coming. Anne was relentless. “I keep telling him and his mother that we’re over. But tonight….”

  “It was off the chain.” He paused. “You know what I think? I think he’s probably been following you before, but seeing you with me tonight set him off.”

  A chill slid down her spine. “Oh, God. That never occurred to me. I’m just sorry you got dragged into this.”

  “How many people know about George and your separation?”

  “His folks. That’s it. No one wants to advertise their marriage has fallen apart and that they’re bailing on their husband.” And there hadn’t been anyone else to tell.

  “What about your parents?”

  “They’re dead.” At least they were to her.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you, but it’s fine. It’s been a long time.” A lifetime.

  “Look, I’d think there was something wrong with you if you stuck around for that kind of madness. Did you leave to force him to get help, to go back on the meds?”

  “I left because I couldn’t handle it anymore. I couldn’t live with it.”

  “Would you go back if he went back on the meds?”

  She’d laid awake countless nights, asking herself that same question over and over. She always came back to a resounding “no.” There’d never be any certainty he’d stick with it and now with some distance she was seeing her life with George much more clearly. Actually, she was seeing her life as a whole more clearly.

  “No.” She answered his question. It was one thing to think it, another to say it. “Well, I don’t think so.”

  “Do you still love him?”

  That was easier. Love wasn’t a faucet you turned off at will. She wasn’t in love with him, but did she love him? “Yes. Can I live with him? Not anymore.”

  * * *

  Arden closed her office door behind her and leaned against it. The package had arrived just as she was on her way to lunch. She’d placed it on her desk and gone about her business, joining Tad and Dorene from production for Reubens at the corner deli. Ostensibly she’d gone about her business. In actuality, she’d been mentally absent throughout lunch. It was a good thing they weren’t discussing anything important because she’d been fractured, her real focus on the package waiting for her on her desk.