She sat on the stoop, sipping from a mug. One slender, graceful hand rested on her knee. The sun caught some copper strands in her hair, making them glow. Her Cupid’s bow lips were stained a subtle pink to match the slight blush in her cheeks.
God, she’s gorgeous. The sun on her hair…the prettiest combination of brown and reddish gold I’ve ever seen. Her green eyes, so light as to be almost translucent were hidden behind big sunglasses with tortoiseshell frames. She looks every inch the movie star. His heart rate quickened as he approached. Is she going to bite my head off today or kiss me like she did last night? Smokin’.
“Good morning,” he whispered, barely loud enough for her to hear.
Her head popped up. “Oh! Morning. Didn’t hear you coming.”
“Sand. Muffles the sound.”
“Hung over?”
“Don’t drink that much anymore.”
“I remember the days when you could put away fifteen in a night.”
He chuckled. “Beer or women?”
“Not funny.”
“I thought it was,” he said. “Those days are long gone. I’m a serious businessman now. Can’t be hung over all the time and be successful, too.”
“This isn’t all the time. It’s Fire Island weekend.”
“Out of the habit, I guess.” He lowered himself onto the step next to her.
“Yeah? Me, too. Too much physical activity. I can’t be wasted all the time.”
I’d love to have some physical activity with her. Her skinny dancer’s body has changed. Love to get my hands on her. Best lover ever, even thin.
His glance rested on her chest, and his pulse kicked up. His fingers itched to close around those inviting mounds.
“You’re beautiful,” slipped quietly out of his mouth. But she heard him.
“What?”
Heat seeped into his cheeks. Big mouth. You’re staring at her rack and coming on to her. You’ll lose any chance you have.
“Nothing.”
She straightened in her chair. “It wasn’t nothing. Did you say…beautiful? She blushed. “Oh my God, did I just say that?”
“Yeah.” Caught. Fess up. “You’re even more beautiful now than when you were dancing. Didn’t think that was possible.”
She smiled warmly at him, and he knew he’d made the right choice to opt for honesty. Pierre from the men’s house walked up the path and stopped in front of the house. His gaze roamed salaciously over Dorrie’s body before he spoke.
“Dorrie. Sexier than ever,” he leered.
She raised her hand in greeting, but the frown never left her lips.
“Have you seen the schedule for today?” he asked, ignoring her cold shoulder.
“Schedule? Crap! I thought this was supposed to be a relaxing weekend.”
“You know Drake. Always had a schedule. No one ever paid attention,” John said.
“Let’s see if I can remember?” Pierre sat down, uninvited, on the other side of Dorrie and draped his arm around her shoulders. “Uh, volleyball at eleven, lunch at noon, body surfing at one, more volleyball at three…cocktails—my favorite part—at four thirty.”
Dorrie shrugged him off her. Johnny threw a sharp warning glance at Pierre, who raised his hands in defense. “Okay, okay.”
She inched away from Pierre and closer to him.
“Hey, I don’t bite.”
“Leave her alone, Pierre. I’ve told you this before…” He slipped his arm around her waist.
“Yeah, at the nude beach. Hey, if you’re gonna be there, people are gonna look.”
“There’s looking, and there’s staring till you make someone uncomfortable.”
“Stop it! Pierre, you’re in my space. Move over.” She gave him a shove. He stood up and brushed the sand off his butt.
“I’m going. You’re the coldest bitch in this place, ya know?”
Johnny jumped to his feet. He grabbed Pierre’s T-shirt and fisted it, drawing the smaller man right up to his face. “You ever call her that again, and I’ll punch your lights out.” Little prick. For two cents, I’d deck you anyway.
“Okay, okay. Got it.” He shot a sullen look at John and pushed away. Johnny let go and sat back down next to Dorrie. Pierre slinked away, heading back toward the other house.
“Be on my team?” he asked Dorrie.
“What team?”
“Volleyball, of course.”
“We were undefeated all summer.” She grinned. “The tigers, I think. Right?”
“Yeah, yeah. The tigers. You’re on. Are all our teammates here?” She tossed her hair over her shoulder.
“Let’s see, Stan, Bella, you and me…I think so.” Are you going to let me run my fingers through that mop?
“Did we have an alternate?”
“Mary.”
“Ugh!” She frowned.
“She was on the team.”
“Okay, okay.”
“Don’t be jealous. She’s no competition for you.” Nobody’s competition for you, honey.
“Jealous of Mary? You’ve got to be kidding. Where’s the ball? We should practice. It’s been a long time since any of us played.” Dorrie pushed to her feet.
“It’s at our house. I’ll get it and meet you on the beach?”
“Right.”
Dorrie offered him her hand and after he stood up, he kept hold of it, pulling her into his arms. She didn’t resist. He kissed her neck, his fingers steadying her around her waist. She burrowed her face into his shoulder and sighed. So he continued.
“Who’s making all the noise…” The door opened, and Mary appeared. “I should have known. Get a room.”
Johnny and Dorrie slowly separated. He glared at Mary.
“What? Like you don’t do that enough with every girl here. Give it a rest, John.”
He sensed a chill from Dorrie at Mary’s words. Shut up, Mary. Dorrie glanced at him briefly before she disappeared inside. John gave Mary a curt nod then retreated down the path back to his house. I’m not that guy anymore. Why won’t Dorrie believe me?
Chapter Six
With half an hour to warm up, the tigers were champing at the bit, ready to take on any opponents. Johnny and Stan played net while Bella and Dorrie played base line. Setting up the ball to Johnny came back to her as if they had played yesterday, not five years ago.
She was feeling good, better than she had in a long time. The familiar surroundings, old friends, and the healing power of the sea combined to soothe her raw nerves. She had had a lot on her mind, especially being hired to choreograph the movie. Although she wouldn’t admit it, Dorrie was scared to death she couldn’t do it well. Hustle and Dance was slated to be a major film. The dancing had to be flawless.
Would she get it right? Would the routines be faithful to the show, but fresh at the same time? Did she have the stamina to face day after day of rigorous physical activity? Though she had spent three years building up her strength, especially in her ankle, could it last through a demanding job continuing for several months?
She didn’t have the answers, and worried because she’d already seen small signs of weakness. After long walks, her ankle would ache for an hour or two. Certain dance positions aggravated it more than others. This would be the challenge of a lifetime.
She put aside her concerns, refusing to let them cloud the beauty of Fire Island or the warmth of her buddies. For now, her mind was clear, her smile genuine. Dorrie wasn’t paying attention. She ignored warning bells in her head about jumping and running on the uneven sand. So far so good, she was fine.
The score was tigers eight, panthers five. The players took a break to cool off in the ocean. Everyone ran in, but Dorrie stopped at the water’s edge.
“Come on, come on,” Johnny called.
Still, she hesitated, hanging back after dipping her toe into the chilly water. Johnny made a face and ran up to her “If Mohammed isn’t going to come to the mountain…,” he mumbled as he picked her up.
She began to scream
and kick. In a moment, her cries had morphed into a high-pitched giggle. Overcome with laughter, she struggled in vain as Johnny held her fast. He threw her into an oncoming wave then dove in after her.
Dorrie closed her mouth just in time to avoid filling it with salt water and sand. She swam underwater, bobbing up a few feet away. Johnny came to the surface shortly after. She splashed him, and he lunged at her, pushing her under along with him. They came up laughing. He slung his arm around her waist and pulled her to him for a kiss. His mouth was rough, like the sea, his lips cold and salty.
On land, Stan motioned for them to return. They waded out of the water, cooled down and dripping, to resume their game. Johnny ran ahead, leaving Dorrie to walk up alone. His personality, his presence took up all the space around her, surrounding her. When he left, it was as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the air.
As the match continued, the tigers increased their lead. By twelve-thirty, they had won. Lots of war whoops were joined by high fives and leaps into the air. That’s when it happened. Dorrie landed on the wrong leg, her weak ankle unable to support her weight coming down hard and on a slant. The foot folded and something pulled. Pain shot up her leg. She collapsed in the sand and lay there, crying softly, clutching her leg. Johnny ran to her.
“What happened? What’s wrong?”
Dorrie couldn’t speak as pain stole her breath. She pointed. He picked her up and ran into the sea where he lowered her ankle into the cold water. Together they sat down, keeping her immersed as the surf washed over them waist-high.
The low temperature numbed her, reducing the pain. Dorrie rubbed it.
“My bandage.”
“You have an Ace bandage?”
She nodded. “In the house.”
Johnny was up in a flash and heading toward the walkway.
“How convenient. Getting hurt so you can have John Flanagan all to yourself.”
“You’re an idiot, Mary.” Dorrie grimaced, trying to ignore her housemate.
Mary shifted her weight, sticking out her lower lip in an ugly pout. “Here he comes now. Your puppy dog, doing your bidding. I didn’t know you could be so sneaky.” Mary dropped her comment like a bomb and eased away. Dorrie paid no attention.
Johnny arrived with the bandage. He cleaned the sand from her skin with his hand before she fastened the brace. Then, he picked her up and carried her back to the house.
“This isn’t necessary. I can walk, at least limp.”
“Nonsense. You need ice and shouldn’t be walking on the sand.”
He set up a chair in the shade, made an ice pack, and handed her a beer.
“I’m starved. Who’s doing lunch today?” he asked.
“Check with Drake. He’s got the schedule. Just hope it isn’t Pierre.”
“Might have to check for arsenic.” John chuckled.
As if on cue, Drake ran up the walk, sweat pouring from his forehead. “What happened? What happened? Do we need a helicopter to the hospital?”
“Calm down, Drake. I messed up my ankle a little. It’ll be okay. What’s for lunch?”
“Your ankle? Your bad ankle? Damn.” He wiped his face on a small towel around his neck.
John’s brow furrowed. “Will you be able to do the movie?”
“I hope so.” She covered up her concern. It’ll be okay. You can do it. You have to do it.
“So where’s the food?” John turned to Drake.
“Hero’s at our place. Do you want me to—”
“I’ll do it. Hungry, Dorrie?” John chimed in before Drake could offer.
“Starved!”
“Good. I’ll be right back.” John and Drake left, muttering about the past performances of the Mets and Yankees and who had a radio to listen to the game.
Dorrie held the ice to her ankle, which had started to swell. She sat back and smiled. It hurts a little. It’s swelling, but it’ll be okay. It has to. I’ll be able to do the Central Park scene. I will. Determination settled in her heart as she sipped her beer and tried to relax.
* * * *
As soon as they were out of Dorrie’s earshot, Drake turned to John.
“What is it with you two?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you going to break her heart again? Because if you are…John…”
“Hey! She broke mine first.”
“That’s crap, and you know it. I know you like to screw around. Why don’t you leave her alone?”
“You don’t know shit, Drake. So butt out. This doesn’t concern you.” John frowned and looked away from his friend.
“Maybe it does.”
“Oh? How?” John raised his eyebrows.
“Maybe there are other guys…more solid guys, who want to be with her.”
“You, for instance? A married man? That’s great. I’m sure she’ll jump at the chance.”
“If I could have Dorrie? I’d leave Chrissy in a heartbeat.”
“What the hell? Nice to know you took your commitment seriously.”
“I’ve always loved Dorrie. Up till now, she only wanted you. Maybe it’ll be different this time.”
“Does Chrissy know?”
“She’s suspected there’s someone else.”
“Having a serious crush on Dorrie doesn’t mean she returns the feeling. Does Dorrie know how you feel?”
“I made a pass once, five years ago. She laughed, thought I was drunk—joking. I played along.”
“You haven’t said anything since then?”
“I haven’t seen her much since she broke her engagement…she’s in New York then LA…you know.”
“So Dorrie’s not down with this?”
Drake shook his head.
“Buddy, I think you should back off. She’d never go for breaking up a marriage.”
“And she’d prefer a prize womanizer like you? A guy who can’t keep it in his pants?”
John stopped. His hand fisted at his sides. “I’m not like that anymore.”
“Yeah? A leopard doesn’t change his spots.”
“Have you told Chrissy?”
Drake shook his head.
“Don’t want to be there when that bomb goes off. You’ve been married for four years, and still in love with Dorrie?”
“If she gave me a chance, we’d be great. We’ve been friends for a long time.”
“Don’t rock the boat. Stay with Chrissy and let it go, man. Dorrie’s mine.”
They had arrived at the house. John cut two generous pieces of the hero, wrapped them in paper towels, and headed for the door. Drake grabbed his arm.
“If you hurt her, I’ll make you pay.”
“And who’ll you answer to when you crush Chrissy and put Dorrie in the middle, where she doesn’t belong?” John shook his friend’s hand off, pushed the screen door open, and moved down the walkway.
Dorrie was asleep on the sofa when he reached her. John put her sandwich on the coffee table. He eased quietly into a chair and watched her sleep while he ate. She’s so sweet, so angelic asleep. He chuckled to himself. And a wildcat when she’s awake! She stirred and stretched. One eye cracked open to stare at him.
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Lunch.” He moved the plate closer to her. She sat up, stretched again, and yawned.
“Thank you. Volleyball wore me out.” She picked up her food.
I’d like to wear her out—in the bedroom. Johnny loved her vulnerable like this most of all. He had tired of the super women, who could do everything better than a man except grow a dick and made sure you knew it, or the opposite, women who were totally incompetent and thought it was cute and feminine to be stupid.
Dorrie was strong, but not so strong she didn’t need anyone. She needed him. Or that’s what he wanted to think. She was smart, talented, yet not overbearing. Here she was about to make a movie and not rubbing everyone’s nose in it. Not bragging. Dorrie never bragged.
The Dorrie he loved from five years earlier had matured beautifully. Her body had filled
out while her hard times had made her compassionate. Her arrogant veneer from five years ago had worn or broken off. Maybe I’m just in love with her, and she could be a monster and I wouldn’t see it. He stopped questioning and sat back in his chair, relaxed and smiling.
“No more volleyball for you, young lady.”
“Guess not. Board games…”
“Card games. I think we still have a gin rummy competition going on.”
Dorrie bolted upright on the sofa. “Gin rummy? Bring it on! I’m better than ever!”
John reached for the deck of cards sitting on the end table. Damn right you are.
“Still think you can beat me?”
“Think? You mean, know.” A gleam shone in her eye as a broad smile stretched her lips.
“You wish.”
“Deal, buster. Put your cards where your mouth is.” She took a bite of her sandwich.
He laughed as he shuffled the deck.
* * * *
Dorrie couldn’t believe how easily she and Johnny fell back into their old ways. Teasing each other, being volleyball teammates and competitors at cards made the weekend seem like she’d stepped back in time. Although her pulse quickened when her gaze met his and when she sneaked a peek at his broad shoulders or cute butt, what made her heart melt was his protectiveness and friendship.
The nagging voice of doubt in her head that kept reminding her of his tomcat ways was getting drowned out. She tried to keep her defenses up, but they slipped a little further with each act of kindness. I’m a sucker for a nice guy.
They played cards until the rest of the gang returned from the beach. Then, it was cocktail time. The blender was plugged in and frozen daiquiris of different sorts were whirled together in increasing strengths. Stan brought a guitar over from the men’s house, and people started to dance. Chrissy found Drake and stayed glued to his side.
Love's Last Chance Page 8
