Chaz put down his phone. “All set. Should I wait?”
“I’ll be quick.”
Dorrie took a shower and threw on a sundress in dark turquoise with flat sandals. Then, she slung her rehearsal bag over her shoulder, and the two marched across to Central Park West, their heads together, lost in conversation about the dance number and the movie.
The evening went quickly. Dorrie and Megan reconnected. The threesome joked and laughed about people in the industry. Dorrie gave Meg some exercises to stretch out her back since her work as a financial advisor was always done sitting down.
After three glasses of wine, Dorrie was feeling no pain. She sauntered up Central Park West, humming and occasionally breaking into one of the songs from Hustle and Dance. At red lights, she’d stop, do a dance step, and shrug, if others looked at her.
Now’s the time to call Rick Tarlock. Now, while I have the nerve. A slight nagging in her brain suggested that calling when she was stone cold sober might be better, but she ignored it. I’m perfectly capable of talking to Rick. And if he blows me off, I’ll just giggle.
Whipping out her cell, she crossed the street and sank down on one of the benches in front of Central Park. The light had faded into a glorious sunset of oranges, reds, and pinks shooting across the sky. She dialed the number Drake had given her, but her bravado evaporated the moment she heard his voice.
“Hello? Hello?”
“Rick?” She bit her lip.
“Yes. Who’s this?”
She gulped air. “Dorrie. Dorrie Rodgers. Remember me?”
“Dorrie? You’re kidding. Is this a joke?”
“It’s really me.”
“Dorrie?”
“Yeah. How the hell are you?” She tried to sound casual but ended up coming across as a phony to her own ear.
“Surprised. I never expected to hear from you again.”
“Yeah, our last conversation wasn’t exactly…great.”
“Our second to last. The last one was just you telling me you wouldn’t go out with me again…ever.”
“I’m sorry about that.” Why was I so final and so unfeeling?
“So why are you calling?”
“I’m in New York for a couple of weeks and I thought…maybe. Well, maybe not. I mean, I understand if you don’t want to see me. I wasn’t very nice.”
“You want to go out with me?” The surprise in his voice came through loud and clear.
“Just dinner. Could we do dinner? Catch up.”
“How long are you in New York?”
“A couple of weeks…but maybe coming back after…” She closed her eyes.
“Dinner? Hell, yeah! I’d love to see you again.”
Dorrie let out a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding. “Great. What works for you?”
“How about tomorrow night?”
“Sure. I have rehearsal until seven.” She pushed to her feet and strolled slowly up the avenue.
“Rehearsal? Are you in a show?”
“Choreographer. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you tomorrow night.”
“Can you meet me at The Ransom Café?”
“That’s still there?” Has it really been five years?
“Sure is. Still my favorite, too.”
“Eight o’clock?”
“Perfect. Will I recognize you?”
“I’ve put on a little weight, but otherwise I’m the same. You?”
“Lost a little more hair… Dorrie with a little more weight. Hmm. Sounds intriguing.”
She could feel herself blush as his voice got lower and sexier. She had had quite a hot relationship with Rick. “Mostly the same old Dorrie,” she responded feebly.
He laughed and said goodbye. Dorrie fanned herself with her hand. He’d created fire in her with just one sentence. Even the cool night air didn’t reduce the heat level in her veins right away. Rick always could turn me on. Guess he still can. This will be interesting.
Sobered by the night air and her conversation, Dorrie walked the rest of the way in a quiet, contemplative mood. Her reasons for telling Rick not to call her again flooded back. Her smile turned to a frown. Could he have changed so much in five years? Doesn’t everyone grow up eventually? Maybe. But not everyone becomes a giving person. This is his second and last chance.
When she returned to the apartment, she made an excuse about the late hour to Drake and Chrissy and went off to bed. She stared up at the moon, wondering what she’d find when she saw Rick. There weren’t any answers from Old Man Moon, just more questions. Their words on their last date came back to her.
“You gave me everything, and I gave you nothing,” he had said.
“Not everyone is a giving person. Some people can’t give. I guess that’s you.”
She winced as the memory of the ice in her tone returned. He hadn’t seemed injured by her words. Men often don’t show their wounds. I didn’t even ask him if he wanted another chance. Didn’t ask him what he thought he could give to me then. Just shut him down, turned off, and walked away. Cold, so cold. Shame flooded her heart. How could I have been so mean?
He had called her one more time, and she had told him that she never wanted to go out with him again.
Closing her eyes didn’t help. Dorrie could see the scene in her mind. Rick had sounded pathetic and a little helpless. But he didn’t speak up. Didn’t say he wanted another chance. So…but maybe I shut him off. Who can tell? Feeling dizzy from the conflicting emotions whirling through her like a tornado, she rolled over and fell asleep.
* * * *
The next day was busy. To avoid the heat of midday, she led the troupe to the bandshell in Central Park in the morning. She needed to try out the routines where they would be shot so that she could make adjustments to the spacing, timing and steps where needed.
They all worked hard, but no one harder than Dorrie. By one o’clock, she reassembled the dancers in the studio to practice away from the glare of the sun. By the end, everyone was exhausted. Her ankle had begun to ache, a sign that she needed to slow down. She sat cross-legged on the floor, rubbing her muscles and tendons. I can’t slow down. I have to do this. Even if I decide to take the job in New York, I need to make this choreography shine.
She showered and threw on her white sundress that laced up the front before carefully applying makeup. What do I want from tonight? I want to know if one more day changes my mind, makes me want to give him another chance. Will I feel the same about him?
It was obvious his attraction for her was still alive, though perhaps buried inside. Still, she needed to know if Rick had been a sexy but shallow young guy, an incorrigible jerk or a misunderstood man when she had left him. She crossed her fingers before reluctantly raising her hand to hail a cab. It’s expensive, but my ankle needs a rest. No walking across town tonight.
A taxi stopped. She gave the address then leaned back against the cool seat and smiled. The Ransom Café. Wonder if they still have that veal parmigiana. She’d never allowed herself to eat it when she was dancing because it might make her fat. Now, her mouth watered at the thought. At least I’ll have a good meal, even if I pay for it myself. Even if I don’t reconnect with Rick. Tricky Ricky they used to call him. Have to check with Drake to see if Rick still has that nickname.
The Ransom Café still had the same façade as five years ago, but the cream-colored paint had been refreshed. Inside was as dark and cozy as always. Dorrie had a hard time seeing for a moment until her eyes adjusted. The maître d’ approached.
“Rick Tarlock?” she asked.
“Right this way.”
He led her to a quiet table in the corner. Rick stood up as soon as she arrived. Yes, he’s lost some of that beautiful, light brown hair, but he’s still tall with a big smile. He wasn’t a traditionally handsome man, but there was something she found extremely attractive about him. Perhaps because he’d always been nice to her, treated her well when they were together.
He was a good kisser, too, if she remember
ed right. The problem had been that they weren’t together enough, making her feel shut out of his life. His many weekends away had made her feel insecure. She’d wondered if he was sleeping with other women at the ski house or the place in the Hamptons.
Here you go, Rick. Your second chance. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek before pulling out her chair.
“You look great,” he said, taking his seat.
“So do you.” She placed her napkin in her lap then raised her gaze to his.
“Filled out a little.”
“Might say that.”
“Looks…becoming,” he said.
He was always up for sex. I see that hasn’t changed. She chuckled to herself, pretending to cough. His hand squeezed hers.
“Tell me what you’re up to,” he said, as the waiter arrived with two menus.
“Do they still have that divine veal parmigiana?” she asked.
“I’m afraid not,” the waiter said. “We’ve replaced it with a veal marsala. Very nice.”
Dorrie raised her eyebrows and looked at Rick.
He nodded once. “I’ve had it. It’s good.”
“Okay. I’m convinced. I’ll try it.”
Rick ordered the lamb shank and a bottle of Cabernet. “Still your favorite?”
“You remembered,” she said, pleasure filling her veins. Maybe I did leave him too fast.
“I remember everything about you.” He cast his gaze to his hands.
“What are you doing now?” I wonder if he’s seeing someone. Probably wouldn’t confess to me if he was, anyway. Tricky Ricky.
“Work wise? I’ve been promoted to a vice president. I’m overseeing distribution.”
“Distribution? You must travel a lot to visit the plants.”
“I do. I like to travel.”
“You always did.”
“I got the job the married guys didn’t want. They wanted to be home with their families.”
“Easier when you’re single. Got that. But what if you want to get married?”
He chuckled. “Not likely to happen any time soon.”
She kept her smile painted on her face though her spirits sagged. Never gonna get married?
“Really? You’ll be single forever?”
“Hell, I’m only thirty-two. What’s the rush?”
She nodded as if she understood, which she didn’t. He’s just saying that. She shook off the negativity of his statement and stared into his blue eyes. Before they could tackle a new topic, their food arrived.
They finished half their meal before Rick asked, “So what are you doing here?”
Dorrie told him about the choreography job. He listened attentively. He always was a good listener.
“When you left, you were going to make a movie. Did you? What happened? From star to choreographer?” Dorrie took two more bites then launched into her story. Rick asked good questions, and when she skirted around Gunther Quill, he was too polite to push for details.
“Engaged, huh?”
“It seemed right…at the time.”
“He’s the loser.” Rick picked up his last bite with his fork and stared at his plate.
Maybe he’s not a marriage-phobe. Don’t be so quick to judge. That’s why you took off in the first place. Now you regret it. Relax. She sat back in her chair and put down her silverware. Rick raised his glass in a toast.
“To your success with Hustle and Dance,” he said. Dorrie clinked hers with his and took a healthy swallow. The wine was perfect, inducing her to drink more. Rick refilled her glass. A nice buzz lifted her spirits and jumpstarted her libido. She looked at him with a warmer gaze.
He picked up on it and laced his fingers with hers. “To old times,” he said, softly.
“To old times. Hot times,” she whispered, sipping her wine again.
His stare turned from warm to boiling as a knowing smile spread across his face. “You were the best.”
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Really?”
“By a mile.”
Their eyes met and words fell away. The silence was heavy with longing and desire. Dorrie wanted him again. Will it be just as good this time? She had to find out, had to make love with him at least one more time to see if their passion still existed.
He licked his lips and caressed the back of her hand with his thumb. His signature move. He always did that before making a pass. Some things never change.
“How about dessert?” he asked.
“I’m pretty full.”
“They have real strawberry shortcake here. Don’t you love strawberries?”
Good guess, Rick. Doesn’t everyone love strawberries. At least he’s trying.
“Enough.” She wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Just coffee will do.”
Rick ordered two coffees and sat back. “Afraid to put too much on those beautiful bones?”
“I don’t want to overdo it. I think my weight is just right as it is.”
“I’d have to agree.” Again, she felt the warmth of his stare as it traveled slowly over her curves. They sipped their beverages in silence, only their fingers moved, dancing around each other. When the check arrived, Rick picked it up as he always did and plopped down his credit card.
“Let’s split it.”
“Don’t be silly.” He waved her away.
Always generous. She smiled to see that that part of Rick hadn’t changed. I’ll make it up to him.
They strolled up the avenue hand-in-hand. After five blocks, her ankle started to hurt. She cringed and reached down to rub it.
“Problem?”
“Sometimes after an active day, it bothers me.”
“Let’s take a cab. Can we go to your place?”
“I’m staying with Drake and Chrissy.”
“Oh. No hotel, huh?”
Damn! “You?”
“Still have a roommate, and he’s up late sometimes.”
“Do you need him?”
“I moved into a nicer place. Splitting the rent gives me more spending money.”
Yeah, and an excuse to go to the girl’s place and never stay over. I remember.
“Come on. You can say hello, then we can spend some time alone…getting reacquainted in my room. They’ll understand.”
He broke into a big smile and raised his hand. It didn’t take more than a few seconds for a taxi to pull to the curb. Rick held the door open. “Let me massage that for you.” He reached for her foot. The driver turned on the meter, and they were on their way.
* * * *
Dorrie was surprised that Drake gave Rick the third degree about his intentions toward her two minutes after they arrived, as if he were her father. She put a stop to it, turning to Chrissy for support. But Chrissy just gushed and got embarrassed when she realized why he was there.
Before the situation got worse, Rick raised his eyebrows, and Dorrie picked up on his signal, taking his hand and leading him into her bedroom. As soon as the door was shut, he took her in his arms for a tentative kiss. He seems unsure of himself. Not like Rick since the first date or two. She leaned into him, relaxing against his firm chest and raised her face to his.
He captured her mouth with more passion the second time. The familiarity of his tongue and touch both soothed Dorrie and excited her. Her breath became ragged as her body remembered what pleasure lay ahead. He gripped her bottom then slid his hands up to cup her breasts. Her gasp quickly became a moan as his fingers squeezed her flesh, seeking her peaks.
“Oh, God, Rick,” she muttered into his mouth. He backed her slowly toward the bed. When the edge hit the backs of her knees, they bent, throwing her on her butt. He lost his balance and tumbled on top of her. They laughed as he quickly rolled off her, grabbing her and pulling her on top of him. Pushing up on her hands, she stared down at him.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispered.
Have I missed him? Oh yeah. Dorrie shut off her mind and focused on her body. Their positions gave his hands freedom. He pulled up her skirt
and slipped his fingers under the elastic of her bikinis. They closed over the bare flesh of her rear end, holding her firmly against him.
She arched her back and pushed all the way up on her arms. His gaze dropped to the lacing of her bodice. Raising his head, his teeth were able to tug on the cord holding it together. He yanked a few times until the bow came undone.
Pressure from her breasts spread the soft material, allowing them to spring free from the fabric. He bent to kiss them then flipped her over and went to work on her dress. He spread the lacing and opened the bodice. When her tempting breasts were completely bared for his view, he let out a breath.
Her fingers worked the knot of his tie, loosening it then unbuttoning his shirt. She worked as fast as she could, but he was way ahead of her. Pushing her straps down trapped her arms.
“That’s the way I like you. Bare and helpless,” he chuckled, lowering his head to taste her peak.
Dorrie closed her eyes and gave herself over to the experience. Rick was an expert lover, and all she had to do was lie back and enjoy it. Peeking out from slitted lids, she saw him rip his tie off and toss it on the floor. Soon his shirt and T-shirt followed. Unable to move her arms up, she bent her head and ran her lips, then her tongue, along his chest. A smattering of brown hair tickled her face as she licked him. His groan made her smile.
“Maybe you need your hands?” He shoved her bodice down so she could pull her arms through. Her fingertips repeated the trail her lips had made. God, he feels good. Dorrie raised one knee up and rested her foot flat on the bed.
It didn’t take Rick more than a second to place his hand on her knee and slide it up slowly, tantalizing her. His fingers curled around her leg muscle and dipped under her panties to caress her core. She gasped at his touch and moaned into his chest. Rising up on his knees, he slipped her panties off and discarded her dress. Then he stood up and dropped his pants and boxers.
She rose up on her elbow to watch him. He was fully erect when he shed his clothes, and Dorrie admired him. He was still a very attractive man with a great body, muscular and fit, though not muscle-bound. Her gaze traveled every inch as a smile spread across her face.
Love's Last Chance Page 4
