This Love of Mine

by Miranda Liasson

  Her grandmother’s infamous words echoed. Poke fear in the arse.

  Delicious, cool air-conditioning wafted over her almost-bare shoulders, and she was grateful for it because her nerves had her sweating up a storm. But it was time to roll. Forcing her spine into perfect posture, she resisted the urge to scootch down the hem of her borrowed clingy black dress, and stepped forward.

  Ben looked up. His neutral expression morphed into one of pleasure, surprise, and something far darker that sent a total-body shiver trailing down to her toes. He cleared his throat. “Um . . . wow. You look . . . nice.” She watched him take in Alex’s slinky dress with lacy black off-the-shoulder sleeves that was stylish and pretty, but, according to Alex, conservative enough for a business dinner. Too bad that when Alex wasn’t pregnant, she was a size smaller than Meg. As long as Meg didn’t eat much, she’d be fine.

  Olivia had had the emergency mission of running the dress over to Meg’s apartment, and even managed to dig out a pair of black heels from Meg’s closet that she’d never worn before.

  “Why do you have fifty pairs of shoes in your closet and all you ever wear are flats?” Olivia had asked.

  “Fun, nice, colorful flats,” Meg had said.

  “Not even in the same league.” Olivia had held up the four-and-a-half-inch Louboutins with bows at the toe and a Mary Jane strap that Meg had bought on eBay.

  Forced out of her comfort zone, Meg had to admit the shoes made her feel more confident. Plus they got a reaction her flats never got. And judging by Ben’s dropped jaw, quite a positive one.

  “Are the other people here yet?” Meg asked in a low voice.

  “Actually, they’re just sitting down. They’re at the table next to the windows.”

  She tipped her head subtly. “You mean that group over there looking at us?” Gawking was more like it. Three couples were checking them out, until an older man in a business suit stood and waved them over.

  Meg seized Ben’s arm. “Oh. Well, should we—show affection? You know, like a couple?”

  “I don’t do PDA.” There went that pacing again, accompanied by tugging on his collar as if it were choking him, and curling and uncurling his fists. She pulled his sleeve to get his attention. “You have to show them this is real. Even if it’s just holding hands and a simple kiss on the cheek. You know, gentlemanly stuff. Because real couples show PDA, and if you want my help, you’re going to have to act like a real couple, dammit.” And maybe he would discover he really enjoyed kissing her. And wanted to be a real couple.

  No, no. She’d given up that kind of thinking. She was not still employing that fantasy. At least, she was trying really hard not to.

  His gait stilled. His mouth edged up in a wicked grin as he slowly raked over her body from head to toe. “I can be a gentleman.”

  Meg managed to frown despite the blush that must have lit her up from chest to roots like a Christmas tree. At least she’d gotten his attention off his nerves. “Then stop focusing on my cleavage.”

  His gaze snapped back to her face. A devilish twinkle sparked in the depths of his mahogany eyes as he took up her hand and slowly touched it to his lips.

  She gave a little gasp as her fingers tingled and every erogenous spot in her body hummed from that simple graze. “Oh, you’re good.” Her voice came out a little breathless as she struggled not to dissolve into a boneless puddle at his feet.

  He flashed his usual grin that must have bedazzled a million women. “Thanks for doing this,” he said. “It’ll be fun. Are you ready?”

  “Sure. Plus, I’m starving,” she said with a fake smile. Of course she wasn’t—ready or starving. Because every part of her that wasn’t shaking from his nearness and his clean masculine scent and the light touch of his sinfully full lips was trembling from nerves. She was not a risk taker. And this was a risk. She wanted to help Ben get the job, but did not want to be caught in an embarrassing lie in front of the hospital administrator. On a personal level, this evening was an opportunity for Ben to see the real Meg, not the tongue-tied head-up-her-ass version she seemed to display so often in front of him. Not because she was trying to recapture some chemistry she thought they’d had so long ago, but because she was an adult now, and it was time to leave childish fantasies behind.

  She had to hold it together for the next few hours. No matter what her personal feelings, she truly believed Ben was a good man and a good doctor and deserved this shot at the job he so passionately wanted.

  They walked to the restaurant entrance together, Ben’s hand resting lightly on her back, his touch sending ripples of heat coursing through her body faster than the deluxe chair massager she’d once demo’d at the mall. One simple touch generated enough warmth to pay her gas bill through February.

  “Don’t forget to pretend you love me, sweetheart,” Ben reminded her as they crossed the threshold.

  “Of course, precious,” she retorted.

  He swung her around and kissed her. Probably just to be perverse. Their lips collided on the momentum of his swing and sort of smacked together in full-on contact.

  And oh, my, they were soft lips, full-bodied and strong like fine wine and just as intoxicating. She laughed self-consciously as they separated, but he surprised her by cupping his hand around her neck and demanding more. Softer this time, exploring her lips, feeling every contour of her mouth, tasting her and stealing her breath and leaving her with an unrelenting ache that shot straight to her abdomen.

  Wow.

  As he broke the kiss, she blinked, stunned and off balance. His expression was tranquil, confident, and utterly unfazed. With acting skills like that, she had no doubt he’d land this job with or without her. She adjusted his tie, an automatic gesture when you were used to dressing people for a living, but that didn’t break the current of electricity that flowed full force between them. His gaze was filled with some unfathomable emotion as he searched her face for something she didn’t understand. Just as quickly, it was gone, and his usual lighthearted, carefree mask stood up and in place.

  “Who says I can’t do PDA?” he said in a low voice.

  “Um, right,” she managed, trying to catch her breath, and praying the scarlet bloom making her resemble a dyed carnation would abate before they reached the table.

  Dr. Donaldson’s face held a stoic expression. Meg hoped he wouldn’t be too judgmental of such a shameless display. He was almost as tall as Ben, with a strong build that made him look more like the head of a Texas dynasty than the CEO of a hospital. He smiled when he saw Meg, hugged her, and asked, “How’s your mother doing?”

  “Better on the new medicine. Thanks for asking.” If Dr. Donaldson resembled a genteel but astute silver fox, his wife projected an unquestionable sense of entitlement honed from years of sitting on every charitable board in town with the authority of someone who felt just a notch superior to everyone else.

  “Hello, dear,” Lillian Donaldson said. “What a surprise. Your dress is so . . . nice. So unlike your usual flower child attire.”

  “You look nice, too.” She’d expected Lillian to poke her with a sharp edge or two, but for Ben’s sake, she’d endure it with a smile. And after today, she was definitely pitching all her long flowered skirts and cork-bottomed sandals.

  “She’s a beauty, no matter what she’s wearing,” Ben said, to her utter amazement. There was his hand on her back again, steadying her nerves—or rather, rattling them.

  “Why, Benjamin,” Lillian said, “I had no idea you two were seriously—”

  “We are indeed, Mrs. Donaldson,” Ben said, coming forward to greet her with a kiss on her cheek, which seemed to startle her. Then he turned to Meg. “I’d like you to meet my colleague at U Conn, Jackson Marshall—Jax—and his wife, Stacy. And this is Dr. Cynthia Rhodes, from Boston, and her husband, Paul. Everyone, this is my girlfriend, Meg Halloran.”

  My girlfriend. In so many ways, Meg felt she had died and gone to an alternate universe. She fought the overwhelming impact of those t
wo little words. How many times in all these long years would she have given her right arm to hear them?

  Well, that was then and this is fake, she chided herself. And she couldn’t ever forget that.

  Jax was tall and good-looking in a mercenary, Navy SEAL sort of way, tanned and rugged with a buzz haircut and handsomely intimidating in his tailored suit. His wife Stacy looked about ten months pregnant. She sat flapping the menu in front of her face for relief even though the restaurant was on the cool side. From her genuine smile to the way her pure blue eyes lit up when she shook hands, Meg liked her instantly and was happy to take the chair next to her while Ben held it out and then sat down himself. “When are you due?” Meg asked.

  “Not soon enough. The twins are due in six weeks.”

  “My business partner is expecting twins, too,” Meg said. “I’ll have to introduce you.”

  Ben nudged her knee under the table, which she took to mean she wasn’t supposed to make nice with the competition. She decided to ignore him.

  “What business are you in?” Cynthia Rhodes asked. Her handshake was strong and no-nonsense, her clothes and makeup polished and perfect.

  “I own the bridal shop on Main Street. Next to Mona’s Bakery.”

  “Best cinnamon rolls in town,” Paul said. “Or so I’ve heard.”

  “You’ll have to try them while you’re here,” Meg said. “The owner brings us leftovers in the afternoons. They are melt-in-your-mouth with the fresh-baked dough and all that warm, gooey icing.”

  Smiling rapturously, Stacy said, “Wow,” as if Meg’s description had been X-rated.

  So far the conversation wasn’t so bad, considering Meg’s lungs felt caged in by the narrow sheath of Alex’s dress. Dr. Donaldson ordered wine and the waiter poured. A few liquid calories wouldn’t expand her stomach too much, would they?

  Ben and Dr. Donaldson conferred about ordering appetizers, but Meg didn’t pay much attention. She’d be lucky if the dress could take her dinner.

  “Your girlfriend is charming, Benjamin. Are you two engaged?” Jax asked.

  Ben pulled Meg close and massaged her shoulder. For a man vowing not to show affection in public, he was doing pretty damn well. His thumb made small circles through the lace of her dress. Warm, sure strokes made her wish they could forgo this awful dinner and put his big fluffy bed upstairs to good use.

  “No, but we’ve known each other since childhood,” Meg said, smiling her most radiant smile at Ben, who beamed right back, displaying magnificent white teeth.

  That smile should be illegal. It was like getting blinded by someone’s brights on a country road at night. Brazen. Disconcerting. Lethal.

  “How did you two meet?” Stacy asked.

  “We met as kids in school but reconnected recently when Ben was doing health screenings at the assisted-living facility I volunteer at.” There. No mention of Girl Scouts or tattling to Mrs. Tailor, and she’d even managed to throw in his civic-minded qualities. It was even mostly true. He’d done health screenings about a month ago for the assisted-living facility where his grandma lived, and Meg had helped him. They’d had the best time, both of them joking with the seniors and each other.

  Ben took up her hand on the table and played mindlessly with it. Being next to him was like having too much wine, constantly fighting against the fuzzy feeling of intoxication.

  “I used her as the demo for the blood pressure machine,” he said, “but when I took her heart rate, it was way off the charts. She couldn’t resist me.”

  Meg knocked against his shoulder in a playful way. “Oh, c’mon now, honey, let’s tell them what really happened.” Because she would play the doting girlfriend, but she was not going to let him present her as meek, unassuming, and a pushover. “Truth is, my heart was racing because one of the seniors chose that exact moment to have a pacemaker malfunction.”

  “Oh, dear.” Lillian grasped her long string of pearls in alarm.

  “Yep, oh dear is right,” Meg said solemnly. “Ben went from taking blood pressures to almost doing CPR. Fortunately it all turned out well.” Ben had insisted on riding in the ambulance with Mr. Lambert, while she’d stayed for a couple rounds of bingo to help lift everyone’s mood. If there hadn’t been a crisis, she’d envisioned a very different ending, but like so much about their history, the timing was just off.

  Except she was going to need CPR if he didn’t stop stroking her hand like that.

  “Since you two are both from Mirror Lake, why don’t you tell the others what a great community it is?” Dr. Donaldson asked.

  “I’d like to know something,” Paul asked. “New York is over two hours away. What do you do about the arts? Theater, specifically?”

  “We have an excellent community theater,” Mrs. Donaldson said proudly. “In fact, we even have a famous actress.”

  “We do?” Ben looked perplexed.

  “Ida Mae Spencer, who works at the hardware store, did a splendid Evita. Except we had to close down the show when the store flooded so she could do damage cleanup. Of course, the entire crew helped.”

  Cynthia rolled her eyes and Paul stifled a laugh. Stacy and Jax were too polite to react, but Meg could feel them thinking that Mirror Lake was Podunkville Reincarnate. So she tried to do a save. “Mirror Lake has a fabulous old atmospheric theater from the 1920s.”

  “Atmospheric theater?” Stacy crinkled up her nose. “What in the world is that?”

  “It’s one of only five remaining in the country,” Meg said. “It used to be a movie palace, where above the screen, there’s a realistic, beautiful sky full of twinkling stars and drifting clouds. Around the stage, it looks like a Moorish castle, with alabaster sculptures and medieval-style carvings.”

  “The Ladies’ Guild saved that theater from being razed back in the seventies,” Mrs. Donaldson said. “I was their president then.”

  “Yes you were, darling,” Dr. Donaldson proudly gave his wife an affectionate little squeeze.

  Meg nodded. “We have a big ball every year right in the theater to raise funds so we can attract great live entertainment. The programs are almost always sold out through tourist season.”

  Dr. Donaldson smiled, clearly pleased with her representation of the town. The tension in Meg’s neck abated a little. All she had to do was keep emphasizing how great Mirror Lake was and how connected Ben was to his town and her job would be done. She’d just taken a breath and felt herself starting to relax when the appetizers arrived.

  “I ordered your favorite, sweetie,” Ben said with a pleased-as-pudding look.

  Meg looked at the plates that were being passed. Fat chilled shrimps hung over the sides of a giant martini glass. The glass was filled with some kind of seafood concoction mixed with fresh salsa and avocado and surrounded by chips.

  Great. Except she wouldn’t be having any of that since eating any kind of shellfish made her body try to die.

  “It’s the Inn’s specialty,” Ben said. “Seafood martini. Shrimp, crab, avocado, and homemade salsa. Meg loves it. Here, sweetheart, have some.” He dipped a tortilla chip into the glass and held it up to her mouth.

  “How cute,” Stacy said.

  Meg tried to wipe the horrified expression from her face. With a shaky smile, she swallowed hard. Her eyes darted back and forth around the table. Yep, everyone was watching.

  “Here you go, honey.” Ben’s expression was expectant as he pushed the chip closer to her mouth.

  She looked death in the eye. There was no way she was going to allow that food to touch her lips. So she did what any mature person would do. Dropped her napkin. “Oops,” she said, bending down to get it and tugging on Ben’s pants leg. Hard. No response.

  She tugged again until finally his concerned face appeared next to hers. “Stop trying to get me to eat, you doofus,” she hissed.

  “I thought you were starving. And I’m trying to show I know you.”

  “Well, you clearly don’t know the important fact that I’m allergic to shell
fish.”

  “Oh, shit.” His face twisted up in a panic. He looked genuinely appalled. To see his Cool Hand Luke demeanor crumble was indecently satisfying.

  “I’m pretty sure four ER docs could save me,” Meg said, “but do we really want to end the evening that way?”

  “Let me order you something else.”

  “No. Just—just eat it so I don’t have to.”

  He grabbed her napkin and her elbow and yanked her up, smiling a bit too broadly. Then he picked up the chip and put it in his own mouth. “I forgot you’re on that diet, Blossom, even though you’re perfect just the way you are.”

  Meg blinked. He looked pretty sincere, except for the this is completely effed up expression in his eyes. The absurdity of the evening made her want to laugh crazily out loud, but she didn’t dare.

  Dr. Donaldson cleared his throat. “While we’re waiting for our entrees, I thought we could go around the table and discuss the reasons each of you wants to live and work in Mirror Lake. And of course, Lillian and I can answer any questions you might have about our town. Cynthia, would you like to begin?”

  “I’d like to raise our children in a town with history and culture and access to big cities. Boston and New York are both in drivable distance.”

  Jax went next. “Stacy’s family is from Hartford, an hour’s drive, so we’d be close to family. And I’d like the opportunity to have a big impact in a small community.”

  Then it was Ben’s turn. He draped an arm casually around the back of Meg’s chair and took up Meg’s hand again in his free one. “I was born and raised here. I understand the people who live here, and I know most of them, too. For years I dreamed about coming back here to practice.”

  Cynthia tipped her glass of wine in salute. “Looks like you’ve got the hometown advantage, Ben.”

  “You talk the big talk, buddy,” Jax said. “But we all know you haven’t been in a relationship. Just two weeks ago, you showed up with a different woman at that residents’ barbecue.”

  The few bites of buttered bread Meg had managed to swallow churned fitfully in her stomach. Dammit, that’s what he gets for being such a showoff. That cocky confidence was nothing but trouble, but he certainly looked like he needed a save now. “Who, Ashley?” she asked Ben, who confirmed with a small nod. “Oh, she’s just an old family friend.” She had no idea how to play this out, so she took a swig of wine.