Only If You Dare

by Margo Hoornstra

  The files retrieved from the drawer, Heidi sat down in a stenographer’s chair she scooted closer to the desk. “Can do. Oh, next week we’re transferring all older files to the basement. FYI.”

  “Team player that I am, I’ll get mine boxed up. Carry them myself if I have to.”

  “That’s the spirit. Team players are so rare around here.”

  That good natured quip stayed with Cynthia as she headed down to her office to collect her coat and go home. The moment she walked through the door, her cell phone chirped from the depths of her desk.

  Jonah.

  The name slid into her mind, along with the idea he might be the person on the other end.

  “Hello.”

  “About time you picked up. This is my fourth call. What the hell have you been doing?”

  Even over the phone line, Phil was his usual condescending self. Talking at her, not with her.

  Through gritted teeth, she kept her voice light. “I’ve been working. How about you?”

  “Yeah. Whatever. Hey. Tammy would like her mother and dad to attend Jen’s wedding. Make sure you get an invitation out to them. I’ll e-mail you the address.”

  “Why would they want to come?”

  “Because. I see nothing wrong with it.”

  “Except for the fact they’ve never met Jen or me.”

  “Well, that’s obvious. Never having met you, I mean. Not Jen. There’s no reason they shouldn’t get to know her. And what better time than at her wedding.”

  When she wants to concentrate on being happy, not dealing with her parents’ dumb ass issues. “What are they? Already a set of doting grandparents? Should we order her a corsage and him a boutonniere so they won’t feel left out?”

  “You could.”

  She let that go without comment, then decided to let the rest of it go, too. “Make sure you get me their address.”

  “Oh, that reminds me.”

  With her finger itching to disconnect, she held out a moment longer. “Of what?”

  “Make sure you have some nice flowers for Tammy to wear.”

  “We weren’t discussing corsages; we’re rearranging the guest list.”

  “Now you’re talking semantics? We’re discussing our daughter’s wedding.”

  Hand on her forehead, she suppressed a scream. “Our, Phil. Not yours and that bimbo.”

  “That’s not nice and you know it. Also, how about you quit shouting?”

  How about you drop dead?

  She cleared her throat then took a breath, almost as mad at herself for raising her voice as she was at him for pointing it out. “There is a reservation limit. The facility Jen’s chosen can only seat three hundred.”

  “Jesus. How much is this thing gonna cost me?”

  As much as I can wring out of you. “Jen wants her wedding day to be special. Can you blame her?”

  For the first time since she’d answered this damned call, his voice softened. “Naw. I guess not. Nothing’s too good for my princess.”

  “I’m having them bill you directly. I’m splitting the cost fifty-fifty with you, of course.”

  “I told you before I’d pay the whole shot. Within reason.”

  “And I told you before I’m going to take care of my half.” If I have to take out a second mortgage to do it.

  “You always did have a mind of your own.” The resentment in his voice came through loud and clear.

  Which is precisely why our marriage didn’t work out. “I’ll tell Jen. Who are they again? Their names, I mean.”

  “Uh. I’ll get that to you like I said.”

  Making him temporarily stymied, she executed a fist pump. “You do that, Phil. You do that.”

  “Be sure to designate them as relatives of the bride.”

  “Why would I do anything less?”

  “That’s a good girl.”

  Another reason why they were divorced. Who called a fully grown, professional woman a girl anymore?

  An insensitive Neanderthal clod.

  “Fine, Phil. Fine.” She hit disconnect.

  Still fuming, she took minimal solace in the knowledge she’d deprived him of his most cherished need. Having the last word. When her cell chimed again, she jumped, then quelled the urge to heave the thing across the room. Asshole!

  Instead of screaming, she answered. “I said fine! So let’s just drop it, shall we?”

  “Cynthia?”

  Poised to hang up again, she froze at the distinctive voice. “Yes? I’m sorry I thought you were someone else.”

  A soft chuckle floated over the line. “I’m glad I’m not that someone else. It’s Jonah.”

  She eased down into her chair as a cherished warmth surrounded her. “Hello. How are you?”

  “Better than you right now, I’d say. Bad day?”

  “Horrible.”

  “All the more reason to meet a friend for dinner.”

  She smiled and took a breath. “That does sound good.”

  Her smile grew at his temporary silence.

  “It sounds good to hear you say that. I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”

  Warmth flared into all-consuming heat. “Me, too.”

  This time she made sure to say good bye before ending the call. When all she wanted to do was keep Jonah on the line with her for a few moments more.

  You’re getting in deep here, maybe too deep.

  On a head shake, she banished the very idea she was going too far. Or had already.

  Shrugging into her coat, she suddenly couldn’t get out the door fast enough. And hunger for food had nothing to do with her rush.

  * * * *

  When Cynthia pulled into the busy lot of Harvey’s Pub, the first empty parking spot she came to was located way back in a far corner, yet right beside Jonah’s dark blue sedan.

  Not taking time to decide whether the karma she’d earned was good or bad, she wheeled into the space, turned off the engine, then kept her hands gripped on the steering wheel.

  Was it really a good idea for her to be here?

  She’d never had a one night stand before in her life. Ever. Maybe she needed to put a stop to this right now.

  Sleeping with a man she’d known for such a short time and, apart from some shallow biographical information, one she knew very little about.

  Except that he was a sensitive and caring lover.

  And when she was in the comfort of his arms, something deep inside her heart told her she was safe. Having had one hellatious day, she needed all the reassurances of comfort and safety she could get.

  And, God help her, Jonah Colt supplied that.

  As a car pulled out on the other side of her, she lifted her head. Then sat there as another took its place. She wasn’t going to get anything accomplished if she stayed here doing nothing. Dropping the keys into her purse, she exited the car then walked up to the heavy wooden door of the bar’s front entrance, took a fortifying breath and stepped inside.

  “Yeah!!!!”

  “Way to go!!”

  “Did you see that?”

  The dimly lit interior offered more sound than sight as the thick door closed behind her to shut out a late day sun. As her eyes adjusted to the darkened interior, she turned toward the ruckus on her right.

  A line of jean and tee shirt clad male bodies jumped into the air, arms raised, and fists pumping.

  “Hot damn!”

  “Whooop!”

  After a few rounds of back slaps and high fives, they returned to earth and took seats clustered around a wide screen television hung above the bar.

  On the lookout for similar eruptions in the crowded establishment, Cynthia skirted around them.

  “Our team just scored.” A hostess clad in our team’s colors provided the explanation in lieu of a greeting.

  “Well good for them. I’m meeting someone. A gentleman.”

  “Tall, dark hair, very nice looking?”

  Cynthia smiled. “You could say that.”

 
“Yes, you certainly could.” Did envy flash across an otherwise neutral face only to be quickly hidden as she bent over the seating chart on the stand in front of her? “This way.”

  “Thank you.” She let any and all questions drop.

  Making their way around another group of boisterous revelers, these sitting on a number of chairs arranged in haphazard fashion around tables that had been pushed together in the center of the dining room, Cynthia was led through an archway to a smaller room. Though a couple of big screen television sets were mounted on opposite walls, not many of those sitting at the tables paid much attention to the broadcast.

  Compared to the frenzied atmosphere she’d just emerged from, the calm in here was actually soothing. Taking it in, the trials of a hellish day rolled out of her and melted away.

  “Is this your party?”

  Cynthia glanced over at the table set in a far corner and the man who occupied one of its two chairs.

  Eyes perfectly adjusted to the dimness, her gaze joined—

  Tall, dark and very good looking.

  Who smiled, then stood.

  The hostess set down her menu. “Enjoy.” Sending a lingering gaze toward Jonah, she walked away.

  “It’s nice to see you again.” Her greeting was automatic, though she soon realized how very much she meant those words.

  Well etched cheekbones, a strong chin, the hint of a dimple on the right side of his mouth when he smiled. The description of very good looking hardly did him justice.

  After a quick kiss that left Cynthia wanting more, his hands rested briefly on her shoulders as he helped her off with her coat. “How bad was work?”

  She started to form a pat not that bad response when she caught the sincerity in his eyes as he awaited her answer. Her honest answer. “It was tiring.”

  “I have just the thing.” Ushering her into the seat across from him, he placed her coat, with his, on a nearby chair.

  “Do you now?”

  If he was surprised when she took hold of his hand as he returned to the table, he didn’t show it. Not knowing what else to do, she squeezed before letting go.

  “A good hot meal, of course.”

  “That sounds wonderful.”

  Don’t be so nice to me or we’re going to have real problems.

  “But, before that, a tall glass of wine.” With an expert hand, he lifted a chilled bottle from a bucket set beside the table. Pouring the light, white wine into two stemmed glasses, he picked up one he handed to her and kept the other for himself.

  “To you.” She hoisted it toward him. “For knowing just what I need today.”

  You, Jonah Colt, are just what I need.

  She kept her glass raised and a brave smile in place as the idea wove its way into her mind.

  “Why Cynthia Buckingham! I haven’t seen you in ages.”

  At the shrill female voice, the wave of good fortune she’d been riding high on crashed out from under her.

  While Jonah looked up, Cynthia had all she could do to not duck under the table. For Jonah’s sake, she didn’t.

  Making sure to assume her most politically correct, happy to see you mask, she watched the couple approach and smiled. “Sue Ann and Bart. It has been a very long time.”

  In the hopes the enthusiasm in her voice matched the pleasant expression on her face, she turned toward old friends. Phil’s old friends, whom she was sure, were shamelessly up to date on their divorce in its entire gore filled splendor.

  “How are you both?” She was never more thankful to have Jonah, solid and sure nearby.

  Bright eyes highlighted with an overdose of mascara regarded her. And not at all as the long lost friend Sue Ann portrayed herself to be. “Cynthia, dear. What have you been doing with yourself lately?”

  A scrutinizing gaze flicked over then stayed on Jonah as he stood. With an expression oddly similar to that of their hostess right after she led Cynthia to Jonah’s table. Except, in this case, Cynthia was anything but flattered.

  Fighting to not grit her teeth, she answered. “Oh, you know, the usual. Busy, busy with Jen’s wedding.” Where she would be forced to be civil to them. Since Phil insisted they be invited. “My work keeps me pretty occupied, too.”

  “Ah, yes.” Sue Ann’s head swiveled Cynthia’s way. “Phil mentioned you were doing some kind of social work.”

  “Psychological counseling.” She considered throwing out an explanation of her credentials then decided not to bother. “It’s very rewarding.”

  “I’m sure it is. You don’t have to convince me. Helping the downtrodden is always its own reward.”

  Since Jonah had remained standing, Cynthia did the same. If only to be in a better position to leap forward to scratch the bitch’s eyes out.

  “Oh, where are my manners.” The exclamation was made with mock horror. “Sue Ann and Bart Stewart, this is Judge Jonah Colt.”

  In the flurry of handshakes and greetings that followed, Cynthia reminded herself to breathe. Then almost recoiled when Sue Ann reached out to place French manicured fingers on her arm. “We’d join you if we weren’t on our way out.”

  Doing her best to hold in an actual jump for joy, she frowned and shook her head. “Too bad.”

  “How true. Bart has an early morning surgery.” She glanced at her husband with a strange measure of disdain and grudging respect. “Anyway, being here in a back corner like you are is very romantic, if you’re of a mind for that.”

  Cynthia refused to answer the myriad questions lurking in those beady little eyes. “It’s very busy here tonight. We were fortunate to get this one. Judge Colt and I attended the Friends of the Children Ball recently and realized we have similar, uh, causes in common.”

  “Oh, my dear.” Sue Ann’s gaze roved over Jonah again. “Are you telling me this is a business dinner?”

  “That’s what I heard, too.” Jonah’s smile seemed to be at odds with a mouth that sought to remain a flat line as he retook his seat. “Charity takes all forms.”

  Before Cynthia could respond, Bart spoke to his wife. “We need to leave, Sue Ann. I’m working tomorrow.”

  “Nice seeing you, Cynthia. Jonah, a pleasure.” The words came from the woman as her husband all but pulled her away. “Have fun with your meeting.”

  When they were out of earshot, Jonah leaned Cynthia’s way. “I take it those two aren’t your favorite people.”

  “Oh shoot! You mean my air kisses lacked feeling?”

  He chuckled at the sarcasm in her tone. “Oh, they had feeling all right. Just remind me to keep the kisses I request from you of the real variety.”

  Always. She took a much needed sip of wine, then Jonah spoke again before she had a chance to.

  “You were about to tell me about your day.”

  Sitting back, she set down her glass. “It was pretty typical, really. I just get frustrated sometimes.”

  “How so?”

  “I think I’ve told you I deal with people experiencing post traumatic stressors.”

  His mouth tightened as if, classic Jonah, he sympathized with her frustration. “Yeah.”

  “I explain in great detail how whatever happened isn’t their fault and to let their bad feelings go.”

  “Easier said than done, don’t you think?”

  “Of course. But not impossible if someone has the true desire to try.”

  “Maybe true desire isn’t enough.”

  “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “For someone with your qualifications, is it possible you could be a bit naive?”

  Forearms rested on the table, she sat forward. Where was the sweet, caring guy who’d made love with her the night before? And, who was this idiot who’d taken his place?

  “Are you telling me how to do my job? I’ve seen so many lives ruined by people who have problems and refuse to seek help.”

  “You ever consider some of those people might want to take care of it on their own?”

  “That’s like saying I need brain surg
ery. I think I’ll perform a lobotomy on myself.”

  “That’s a little extreme.”

  “You haven’t seen what I have. You don’t know. I have to say the hardest part of my job is getting people to listen.”

  “Doesn’t seem that would be hard. You’re there. The people are across from you. Kind of a captive audience, I’d say.”

  She didn’t appreciate his casual dismissal of her work. “It’s not like a courtroom where you have the law on your side if someone doesn’t do as you say.”

  His head shake was maddening. “Not the same thing. I’m just saying you might not have all the answers. It’s easy to sit somewhere and come to conclusions when you haven’t had the experience.”

  “Says he who spends his days in a safe and controlled environment. Depending on other people to protect him.”

  Jonah launched to his feet. “This was a mistake.”

  “I agree.”

  Her coat nearly fell on the floor as he hastened to pull his out from underneath it. Bent at the waist, he gave it a rough flip back onto the chair.

  “The wine’s paid for.” He shoved one arm then the other into the sleeves of his jacket. “If you want anything else, you’re on your own.”

  “Just the way I like to be.” It didn’t matter that he was too far away to hear the retort.

  Picking up her semi full glass, she spun the liquid inside it, absorbed by how the light from the candle in the middle of the table danced and shimmered within its depths. After a surreptitious check of her wrist watch, she resolved to stay where she was for a full fifteen minutes more. Sipping her wine and doing her best to appear totally relaxed and content.

  Not show she was one bit confused and pissed and hurt. In that precise order.

  It was dark by the time Cynthia walked out the big wooden door. At this hour, spying her car wasn’t hard at all since many of the other vehicles that had surrounded it were now gone. Save for a huge, ancient pick-up truck with more rust than paint on its body.

  Half way across the parking lot, Cynthia stopped short and swore. She’d been in such a yank to get out of there when her fifteen minutes was up, she’d slipped into her coat then grabbed her purse to throw a five on the table, in case Jonah was moving so fast, he failed to leave a tip. Obsessed with that process, she forgot to retrieve her keys while she still had some light.