Mating Game

by Maynard, Janice

  She dressed rapidly, feeling foolish and far too vulnerable. “You were making your case—right? That you and I have started something?”

  Now his arms folded across that broad chest. “Well, haven’t we?” His voice was mild, but his big frame still vibrated with tension.

  She scrambled to her feet. She couldn’t decide whether she was angry or upset or just completely confused. “I’m interested in having sex with you,” she said baldly. “But I won’t be bullied.” She paused, feeling guilty that his physical need was unappeased. But then again, that wasn’t her fault. He’d started this. “We hardly know each other.”

  Tanner sighed, and then grinned at her. “Can we remedy that?” And before she could answer, he continued with a seductive smile that made her knees weak again. “I want to, Red.”

  She nodded slowly. “I like you, Tanner Nash. But I have a lot going on in my life right now. So cut me some slack . . . please.” She wanted to tell him that Billy was not competition, but it wasn’t strictly the truth. She bit her lip and backed up slowly. “I’ll see you later.”

  She fled into the cool, dimly lit house before he could answer. Moments later she heard the sound of a hammer, signifying that Tanner was back at work. She took a quick shower, unable to escape the memory of his hands on her body. As she ran the washcloth over her sensitized skin, she shivered, realizing with chagrin that it would be far too easy to drag Tanner up to her bedroom and finish what they had started.

  But she resisted the temptation. Barely. Billy had to be her first focus right now. In every way that mattered, he was the most logical pick on her hubby-to-be short list.

  Billy Inman and Nola Grainger made sense. They shared a significant history. And Nola was determined to go into this marriage with as many variables as possible on her side. She didn’t want to end up in divorce court. She wanted to have roots and a family. And as much as it pained her to leave her wonderful life in Chicago, now that she was back on her home turf, ensconced in the house that held so many happy memories, she knew it was a very real possibility that she might end up staying in Resnick for good.

  Already, she could see it clearly—her kids running up and down the stairs. Her photography studio—nicely renovated, of course—with big skylights set up in part of the attic space on the third floor. Her husband watching the little ones during the times she had to travel for a job.

  The only fuzzy part was whose face she would see beside her on the pillow in the mornings when she awoke. Marc’s? Maybe. It was possible. Billy’s? Judging by his cold behavior yesterday, not likely. Tanner’s? She barely knew him, and he didn’t strike her as the kind of man a woman could easily tame.

  So where did that leave her? She refused to let the ticking clock back her into a corner. She had two weeks and change to execute a plan. She would stick with it . . . and adjust as she went along. It was a bizarre situation, but the end result was too important to give up. Now that she was home, she realized that it would kill her to see the house and the land go to a stranger.

  With her grandmother gone, Lochhaven was the only thing tying her to the past. And rapidly . . . surprisingly . . . Nola had come to realize that the past was far more important to her than she had understood.

  She sneaked across the hall from the bathroom to the bedroom, listening for Tanner’s footsteps. It would take a bit of time and some perspective for her to face him again. After her shower, she rummaged through the clothing she’d brought with her for a suitable ensemble. Even at Gershwin’s, the patrons didn’t dress to kill. Nothing like the restaurants where Marc took her in Chicago.

  When it was time to go meet Billy, she dithered for a full ten minutes. What if Tanner was still outside? She didn’t want him to see her all gussied up for another man.

  She peeked out her front window and didn’t see the truck. But he might have pulled it around to the side where he was working. Tiptoeing, and feeling like a fool, she made her way quietly through the house. No sign of her handyman anywhere. She told herself she was glad. But deep down inside, she couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking.

  As she got into her car, she had to accept the fact that Tanner was gone. Had he headed back home to hook up with some other woman and relieve the state Nola had left him in earlier that afternoon?

  It shocked her to know that she was already feeling proprietary about Tanner Nash. She wanted him to be hers. But it wasn’t really fair to keep him dangling in the midst of her manhunt. Unless she was willing to take a chance on a stranger.

  Feeling depressed and out of sorts, she doggedly focused her mental energies on the night ahead. This was very important. She had to reconnect with Billy and see if there was anything left of their early relationship, anything at all. And she had to decide if it was possible to make a commitment to him and vice versa in two weeks.

  They had agreed to meet in the parking lot of the store. The house where Billy lived was close to the business, but Nola was pretty sure he didn’t want her around his parents, and at this stage in the game, she was happy to avoid that as well. She and Billy’s mom and dad had been on good terms back in the day. But if Billy’s antagonistic attitude had rubbed off on them, there was no point in an awkward meeting that would only make things more difficult. Time enough later to reconnect if she and Billy managed to work things out.

  He looked pretty damn good when he stepped out of his car to meet her. His navy blazer and khaki slacks were a bit rumpled, but he wore them well. No tie. The pale blue cotton shirt was open at the collar. His brown hair was damp from a recent shower.

  She locked her rental and went to where he stood by his dark SUV.

  For one brief moment she flashed back to the many times he had picked her up for dates. Back then his ride had been a rusty green Pinto. And always after he seated her at his side, her heart would pound and her stomach would fill with butterflies. Being in Billy’s arms had made her feel grown-up and alive and so desperately in love.

  He cleared his throat, and she snapped back to the present. She went up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Hello, Billy. Thanks for agreeing to have dinner with me.”

  He nodded, his expression shuttered, and then helped her into the front seat and closed her door. She smelled his pleasant aftershave, the same one he had always worn, and she was suddenly flooded with a wave of excitement and affection and anticipation.

  Billy had been such a big part of her life. She would never forget his gentleness the night he had taken her virginity. He was clumsy and nervous and so dear, but he had treated her like a princess despite his adolescent drive to get laid. She’d kept the memories of that night, as well as the other times they had made love, locked away in a little corner of her psyche marked Sweet memories. Perhaps she had idealized their trysts. Possibly her fond recollections were nothing more than the remembrance of youthful hormones. But she wanted to know for sure.

  Billy’s radio was tuned to a country station that played softly in the background. She squeezed her hands together in her lap, her spine straight and her throat dry. “Your business seems to be going really well.”

  He never took his eyes off the road. “Yeah. We do all right.”

  “Do you run into many of the old high school crowd?”

  “Some.”

  “What about your buddy Doug?”

  “He’s in the army.”

  She took a deep breath. “Are you seeing anyone at the moment?”

  His eyes left the road long enough for him to slant a glare in her direction. “Does it matter?”

  She bit her lip. “Yes.”

  “Then no.” His hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel. And he didn’t look her way again.

  By the time they pulled into the restaurant parking lot, she had lost steam. She’d been so damn cheerful, her cheeks hurt. But it was like shoving against a concrete wall. Subdued and chastened, she allowed him to usher her inside. He touched her elbow briefly, but that was the extent of their physical contact.


  She had debated coming right out and telling him about the stipulation in her grandmother’s will. But now, given his inexplicable, barely veiled hostility, she was worried that would antagonize him further. So she kept the info under wraps for the moment.

  Billy seated her with gentlemanly courtesy and then went to his side of the table. The next several minutes were consumed with the waitress taking their orders.

  Over a bottle of unexceptional Chablis, she tried again. “How are your parents doing?”

  He relaxed visibly, perhaps relieved not to have Nola pressing him on more personal topics. “Dad’s been in physical therapy ever since the accident. He has good days and bad, but his mental condition is the biggest challenge. He gets into these depressed funks and doesn’t even want to get out of bed. Mom and I do our best, but who can blame him?”

  “And your mother?”

  “Her heart’s not great, but overall, she’s pretty healthy. These last years have been a strain on her.”

  “And on you, too, I’d say. It must be hard not to have any siblings to help out.”

  He shrugged, his expression discomfited. “We manage.”

  She smiled at him, remembering the boy he had been and filled with respect for the man he had become. “You’re a good man, Billy Inman. I was always proud to be your girlfriend.”

  She reached in her purse and extracted a small box wrapped in slick black paper. She held it out toward him. “It’s nothing much. But I remembered how much you liked collecting vintage Matchbox cars. I found this one in a shop in Chicago.”

  He removed the paper, opened the box reluctantly, and stared at the tiny toy. Then, without even lifting it out, he set her gift aside.

  “I don’t want anything from you, Nola.”

  His face was shuttered now, and his callous rejection hurt so badly, tears stung her eyes. But despite her distress, she leaned forward with her elbows on the table, her hands tightly clasped. “What happened to us, Billy? Why did you change?”

  His placid face morphed suddenly into that of a man with deep, furious emotions: incredulity, anger, frustration. He glared at her. “I changed?” he said sarcastically. “That’s rewriting history, now, isn’t it?”

  He was so upset, it shocked her. Had he been sitting on this powder keg of feelings for a decade or more? She blinked, at sea as to how best to respond. She leaned back in her chair. “You’ve lost me,” she said bluntly. “I’m sorry about what happened to your dad and that you didn’t get to go to college with the rest of us. But what you did to me was cruel. I left town believing I was important to you. I thought that when I graduated we would end up getting married. I was head over heels in love with you. When you turned your back on me, it broke my heart.”

  His face turned dark red, and his hands fisted on the table. “I’m done here,” he said tersely.

  He raised his hand for the check, and their server appeared immediately, perhaps spurred on by the fury vibrating in Billy’s frame.

  When the tab was settled, Nola followed Billy out to the car, filled with chagrin and something far more painful. Deep in her heart she had cherished the memory of the love and affection she and Billy had shared. She had actually hoped, with an almost girlish flutter of anticipation, that Billy might still retain at least some pleasant nostalgia for the teenagers they had been.

  His unfettered animosity scorched her nerves and added another layer of raw emotion to a heart that was already filled with grief and uncertainty. This man wouldn’t marry her. He could hardly bring himself to look her in the face. She blinked back tears.

  The ride home was long and silent. The weather had gone downhill rapidly. Lightning and thunder boiled around them and the sky opened up with a torrential downpour. Billy’s concentration was focused on negotiating the dangerous roads. Nola huddled in her corner of the front seat.

  For two cents she would pack her suitcase and head back to Chicago, inheritance be damned. Marc would entertain her and screw her and pamper her, and all of this would be no more than a bad dream.

  Billy, for all his bad mood, refused to let her pick up her car in the deluge. Apparently, once a gentleman, always a gentleman, despite the fact that he apparently loathed her. He drove out toward Lochhaven, cursing beneath his breath when an accident in front of them slowed traffic to a crawl. For a crappy night, there were a surprising number of cars on the road.

  After they’d been idling at a standstill for ten minutes, the strained atmosphere in the car reached critical mass. Without warning, Billy executed a dangerous turnaround maneuver that sent them hurtling back in the direction they had just come. A quarter mile later, he off-roaded the vehicle at an old county fair site, bumping and jostling the wheels over stubbly grass until they pulled beneath the relative shelter of the single oak on the premises.

  Nola wet her lips. “Should we be parked under a tree with all this lightning?”

  Billy unbuckled his seat belt and turned on the overhead light, his face stern. “I’ll take my chances.”

  Nola unfastened hers as well and half turned to face him. The roar of the rain made it hard to hear, even with the branches overhead that were diffusing much of it. The windows had already fogged up, and the humidity was making her forehead damp with sweat. She shimmied out of her sweater. Billy’s eyes went immediately to her cleavage and stayed there.

  She saw the muscles in his throat move as he swallowed. His voice was hoarse. “What do you want from me, Nola? Why are you slumming? Or are you so accustomed to frequent sex back in Chicago that you can’t stay celibate during one short visit to pay your respects to your grandmother?”

  The deliberate insult sliced through the air with brutal aim.

  She slapped him . . . hard. The red stain on his cheek bore the outline of her fingers. And she fought the urge to cry.

  But damn it, she needed to know something. She reached out slowly and cupped the back of his neck with one hand. Her fingers were cold. Nervous tension coiled in her belly. He didn’t resist when she drew him to her and settled her mouth over his. His taste was comforting, warm and sweet and laden with remembrance. Her first kiss had been from Billy. The first of many things. They had shared hopes and dreams and their yearning bodies.

  Suddenly, it all came back . . . the tenderness, the burgeoning excitement, the wonder of adult feelings and connections. The precious memory of young love.

  He was unresponsive at first, clearly angry about what she was trying to do, but she kept at it. Soon she felt his lips move beneath hers. He shoved the seat back as far as it would go and reached for her zipper. He lowered it partway and stroked her back. His hands on her skin made her shiver. She welcomed his caress . . . but remained silent, not wanting to break the mood. In the process, she managed to help him out of his jacket and unbutton his shirt.

  In many ways it was the same as their youthful passion, but something was different. His familiar smell, the taste of his firm lips, the way he touched her—all of those things her body recognized and accepted. He lowered her dress enough to reach her breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and she heard him groan as he palmed the flesh that was riper and fuller than it had been at eighteen.

  “Nola.” He whispered her name in an aching voice.

  She stroked his chest. It was a man’s chest, broad and strong. A pulse fluttered low in her belly. She sensed that the attraction they once shared was still alive. But was it the natural reaction of a man to having a partially nude woman in his arms, or did Billy feel any remnant of affection for her?

  He ran his thumbs over her nipples, watching intently as they budded tightly against his touch. Nola held her breath, terrified that he would change his mind. To find this connection still intact made her giddy with delight. He bent his head and tasted her breast, tugging the peak between his teeth and biting gently.

  She cried out. His face darkened with the lust that flamed between them like an out-of-control forest fire. He dragged her closer, his hands bruising in their strength
. He buried his face in her neck, his chest heaving. “God, you’re beautiful,” he said. His voice was broken, filled with what might be despair. “I can’t do this again.”

  His words didn’t make sense to her, but she was heartened by his unmistakable passion. She caressed his hair. “Make love to me, Billy. Don’t you want to?”

  It was the wrong thing to say. He froze and moved away, leaving her aching and forlorn.

  He pulled her dress back to where it belonged and zipped her up, almost as if he were sealing up those old memories. She bit her lip and watched him button his shirt.

  She wanted so badly to ask for explanations, but she was still near tears, and she would be damned if she would let him see her cry.

  The storm had died down, at least outside. In the car, the air reeked of unfulfilled sex and sadness.

  When he reached for his jacket, she tugged her sweater back in place. In the aftermath of their stilted encounter, she was chilled to the bone. Nola bit her lip and stared out the window as Billy started the car and moved slowly back toward the highway. The wreck had been cleared up, and they made it to Lochhaven in fifteen minutes.

  The old house looked menacing in the darkness. Nola had forgotten to leave any lights on, and she couldn’t see Tanner’s truck.

  Billy pulled up in front of the door, but left the engine running. There would be no polite offer to go inside and make sure she was okay. Not now. Not after tonight.

  She pulled herself together and got out of the car. The temperature had dropped at least fifteen degrees and she shivered uncontrollably. She leaned into the car and stared at him. “We still need to talk, Billy.” It took guts, but she was no coward.

  He was silent for long, tense moments. “I can’t imagine why,” he muttered with unmistakable frost in his voice. “Isn’t this what you wanted? One last tryst for old times’ sake? Or did I hurt your feelings by not going for the gold?”

  He was deliberately trying to hurt her. But why?

  She shook her head, feeling a pain in her chest for all she had lost. “It’s not what I wanted,” she said sadly. “Not at all.”