Rules of the Game

by Sandy James

  Sanity was a long time in returning, and after what had just happened, I wanted to die of mortification. I tried to pull away, but he wrapped his arms around my waist and held me against him. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t believe I let you…I’m so sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For being so selfish.”

  A chuckle made his chest rumble against my back. “Selfish? That word is so far away from your personality, it’s ridiculous. I wanted to do this for you. I imagine every guy you’ve ever been with has done nothing but take.”

  “So?”

  “So, for once, I thought you’d like to know what it’s like to have someone put you first.” A warm kiss to the side of my neck sent shivers racing over me. “Did you like that?”

  “Yes. Oh, yes.”

  “Good.”

  I was starting to think this guy was nothing but a figment of my overactive imagination. Nothing else could explain someone like Scott being with someone like me. “Now what?” Surely he’d want some relief. “Wanna make love?”

  “God, yes.” He grabbed my chin and gave me a hard kiss. “But not tonight.”

  “Not tonight?”

  “Not tonight, angel. Tonight was for you.” He was off the bed and in the bathroom before he finished the thought.

  I almost followed him until I heard the sound of the shower. My body still hummed from the delicious orgasm he’d given me, and I considered joining him, picturing myself dropping to my knees and taking his erection into my mouth. I wasn’t sure if what we’d just shared had raised us to the level of intimacy that would give me permission to do so. I put on a tank top and my cotton boxers and got ready for bed. Maybe he’d change his mind about making love after his shower.

  While I waged an internal debate over whether I should sleep in my makeup or if I’d look like a raccoon in the morning, Scott finally came out of the bathroom. He had a towel wrapped around his slim hips. I wished it would suddenly fall to the floor. His hair was wet, dripping against his bare shoulders. I almost offered to dry it for him. “Enjoy the shower?”

  He faked a shiver. “Brrr. Too cold to enjoy.”

  “You needed a cold shower?”

  A nod, but he said nothing as he grabbed his bag, pulled out a gray pair of boxer-thingies and headed back into the bathroom.

  I was flattered. Probably more than by anything else anyone had ever said or done. Doing that to me had excited him.

  He’d accomplished exactly what he’d set out to do.

  He made me feel valued.

  Scott turned out the lights when he came out of the bathroom, dressed only in those sexy boxer-thingies. His erection was still obvious, but neither of us said anything about it. He simply crawled into the bed, hauled me up against his side, and was snoring before I could even try to start a conversation.

  As I drifted off to sleep, I planned ways I could pay him back tomorrow.

  Chapter Nine

  “C’mon now. Have another cookie.” My mom held the plate out to Scott.

  The poor guy had been drowned in Hoosier hospitality from the moment we’d walked through the door of my parents’ bungalow. Daddy had given him the grand tour of the detached garage, probably figuring all men should bond over manly things like oil and antifreeze. Mom had fed him enough chicken salad and chocolate chip cookies that his stomach had to hurt. My boyfriend handled it all with aplomb.

  I kept compulsively checking my watch, not only to send a subtle hint to my parents that we weren’t staying long, but because I wanted to get back to the Wishing Well so I could change into my dress for the dance. I no longer gave a diddly damn whether Scott dressed like a biker. Since I’d survived the ominous meeting with Craig Austin, I didn’t feel the need to impress anyone anymore. I just hoped Scott would have fun. I wanted to enjoy his company, to share a few dances and to finally go back to New York where we belonged. Then Scott and I could see where this relationship was heading. We could sit down and have an open and honest discussion about our lives, our careers and hopefully our future. Maybe even talk a little about our pasts.

  “Would you mind if I used your bathroom?” Scott asked my mother.

  “Of course not. Maddie will show you where it is.”

  Like he couldn’t figure out how to head down the hall and find the third door on the right. It did, however, give me a chance for a couple of minutes’ reprieve from the parental stares that seemed to evoke guilt with only a miniscule amount of effort.

  “C’mon,” I said, standing up and tugging on Scott’s hand.

  He stopped before we got to the bathroom and took in The Wall. Every woman in our family had one. Except me, as Mom and Terri often chastised. The Wall was full of frames of all shapes and sizes with pictures from dance recitals, graduations, weddings and funny candid moments. The more embarrassing, the more likely it went up on The Wall.

  “Who’s that?” His finger pointed to the frame with the small black ribbons on two corners.

  I tried not to get teary-eyed, but even after all these years, just seeing that smiling face was still a fresh wound to my heart. “My brother Jack.”

  “Will we meet him today, or doesn’t he live in Pottsville?”

  “Jack died twenty-two years ago.”

  His hand reached for mine and gave me a reassuring squeeze. “Oh, Maddie. I’m so sorry.”

  Jack would have gone places in this world. Smart as a whip. Funnier than a stand-up comic. Handsome as sin, something I could acknowledge even though I was his sister.

  “What happened to him?”

  “Damn drunk driver.”

  Another bolstering squeeze.

  “It’s not right. You know what? The asshole who hit him didn’t even serve a single day in prison. A couple of weeks in the county lock-up, waiting for a trial that never happened, then nada. Not a damn thing. His ambulance-chasing defense attorney got the bastard a walk on a plea. Nothing but some community service.”

  Scott’s hand fell away. “Maybe there was a good reason the judge—”

  I scoffed. “The judge was an asshole too. Probably got paid off by the guy’s lawyer. How someone can do that for a living, I’ll never know.”

  “Do what?”

  “Help criminals get away with their crimes. How they can look themselves in the mirror is beyond me.”

  His strong arms folded across his broad chest. “That’s what you think defense attorneys do? Help people get away with crimes? What happened to everyone having the right to adequate counsel? What happened to innocent until proven guilty?”

  I shook my head. “Yeah, that guy was soooo innocent. Failed the breathalyzer. No, if you get arrested, you’re guilty. No one who’s innocent goes on trial.”

  Scott stared holes through me, and I had a moment of concern. I’d pissed him off and had no idea why. He finally turned, went into the bathroom and practically slammed the door.

  I headed back to the living room and chomped on a chocolate-chip cookie until Scott finally made it back to sit beside me on the couch.

  “We should probably be going,” I said, glancing to him and hoping he’d back me up. He threw me a hesitant smile, so whatever I’d said earlier that pushed his buttons had been brushed aside.

  “So soon? But you just got here.” Mom set the plate back on the perfectly polished coffee table and folded her hands in her lap. “It’s so nice to have you home, Madalyn. You’re always so far away.”

  I wasn’t sure if her tone was really trying to inflict guilt or if that was simply a byproduct of my own fear that I’d disappointed her by moving to the East Coast. “I’m sorry, Mom. But the reunion and all… We’ll try to stop by and see you tomorrow before we head back to New York.” And we’d stay all of about fifteen minutes if I could manage to even find the time or inclination to put myself through another inquisition. I was ready to go home—to my real home. I needed New York City like a jonesing drug addict needed a fix.

  A broad grin spread across my da
d’s bearded face. I hadn’t realized how much gray had crept into his brown beard and hair. “I could take Scott over to the Knights of Columbus to meet my buddies.”

  As if. I’d stab a rusty sword through my own belly before I’d allow that.

  Spending any time with Daddy’s K of C friends would surely scare Scott away for good. They’d have him named an honorary Knight whether he was Catholic or not and make him run some church fundraising event before he even got his stupid coat off. “Um…not this time, Daddy.”

  He frowned with the intensity of a four-year-old who’d been told Santa Claus up and skipped his house this year. “Maybe next time.”

  “Maybe,” I conceded, hoping that Scott visiting the K of C would never, ever come to pass.

  “If you’re going to have your wedding reception there, Scott should at least see the place first,” Mom chimed in, which only made me groan.

  “Mom!”

  “What?” She shot me a faux-innocent grin.

  Scott chuckled instead of racing for the nearest door. “We should go. Thanks for the delicious lunch, Mrs. Sawyer.”

  “I told you, please call me Connie.”

  “Thank you, Connie.”

  “You’re quite welcome, Scott. Next time, just tell me your favorite foods, and I’ll cook them all.” With a smirk, she turned to me. “Tried to teach my Madalyn how to cook, but she hates it. Terri doesn’t like cooking, either.” A heavy sigh. “My girls are too independent to be good wives. Maybe when you and Madalyn get married—”

  My face flushed hot. “Mom!” I tried to growl, but it came out sounding more like a frog in my throat. “Stop it.”

  “Nonsense. Why, you’re thirty-three, Madalyn. Past time to settle down and raise a family.” She flashed Scott a grin. “Do you want children, Scott?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He tossed me a wink. “Sometime. Just not quite yet.”

  “Soon though?” Mom asked again with a cajoling tone to her voice. “You don’t want to wait until you’re too old to enjoy them. Madalyn shouldn’t wait much longer. Terri’s been married for years, and I still don’t have any grandbabies to love.” Her lip pouted.

  “Mom! Stop. Please?”

  “Alright, alright.” She fussed over picking up the plates and carried them to the kitchen, muttering about how much she needed grandbabies to spoil. Every time she said that, it hurt almost more than I could stand.

  “Sorry,” I said to Scott. “She’s determined.”

  Both parents walked us to the door. Mom hugged me and then turned to Scott, tugged him into her arms, and hugged the breath right out of him. Connie Sawyer hadn’t smiled that broadly that since I told her I’d sold my first book. She winked at me. “This one’s a keeper.”

  “Yeah, I think so too.” I kissed my father. “Bye, Daddy.”

  “Bye, pumpkin.” He shook Scott’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Scott.”

  “Thanks, Fred.”

  Awkward goodbyes complete, we got back in the Mustang. “I’d like to take a shower and get ready,” I said.

  “Sounds great. I need to make a couple of phone calls.”

  I had to bite my tongue to keep from asking who he was calling. Curiosity was killing me, and from his sly grin, I guessed he enjoyed my discomfort. “Calling the girlfriend?” I finally asked, simply to let him know I cared.

  “Can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “She’s sitting right next to me.” He leaned over and gave me a quick kiss.

  I wanted more. I reached behind his head, laced my fingers through his hair and dragged him back. Then I gave him an open-mouth, tongue-dueling kiss that promised to repay him for all the pleasure he’d brought me last night.

  When we broke apart, Scott rested his forehead against mine and gave me a contented sigh. Tears actually welled in my eyes. This man pleased me more than he could ever know.

  His composure through everything was exactly what I’d needed. He’d handled the whole thing with poise—the stupid detour that started this trip, my parents’ nonsense, and the revelation about Craig. He’d been my stalwart when I’d desperately needed one, and he gave me hope that I could one day tell him every deep, dark secret and he’d still understand.

  “Let’s go back to the motel,” I whispered. “I wanna make love.”

  “Tonight, Maddie.”

  “Why tonight?”

  “Seems appropriate. For now, you take your shower and get dressed. I’ll return my phone calls and get ready too. We’ll dance. We’ll visit with your old friends. We’ll have some fun. We’ll flirt. And then…”

  “And then what?”

  His dark eyebrows wiggled. “Then we get back to the Wishing Well and light up each other’s worlds.”

  “Sounds like a fantastic plan.”

  * * *

  I smoothed a stray hair behind my ear. Since Scott told me he liked it down, I’d left out the clips. The locks had grown long enough to curl against my cheeks and neck, and for the first time I could remember, I actually liked the way my hair looked.

  After I grabbed one last glance at my reflection, I wanted to see what Scott thought of the dressed-up me. Opening the bathroom door, I stepped out.

  He took a long look at me and wolf-whistled. “You clean up nice. That color’s perfect on you.”

  I ran my fingers over the teal satin. “Thanks.” I’d splurged on a Vera Wang. Pretentious, yes. Kathryn West would only wear the best. The Christian Louboutin shoes added the finishing touch. It was time to blow the socks off everyone at the reunion.

  Giving my attention to Scott, I realized just how wrong I’d been when I’d thought him dressing like a badass would make people envy me. His suit did far more to flatter his assets than any leather or denim could.

  I didn’t know much about men’s designers, but his dark gray suit had to bear a name brand. It fit him like it had been tailor-made. His dove gray shirt had a banded collar instead of a cliché tie.

  He was perfect.

  “You’re gorgeous.” The words slipped out before I could stop them. My cheeks burned in response.

  “Why, thank you. I was about to tell you the same thing.” His fingers ran over his lapels. “Brought this along just in case you changed your mind and wanted Wall Street instead of Jersey.”

  “I love it.” That suit had to cost a fortune, and I wondered for a minute how a guy like Scott could afford something so pricey. After all the times he’d paid for things, I’d formed a theory that he might be blue collar but probably owned his own business. Car repair? Construction? We’d definitely have to have that talk about what he did. Just to be fair, I’d throw some extra money in with the fee I was going to pay him for being my reunion escort. A deal was a deal, whether he was my boyfriend or not.

  I grabbed my beaded clutch purse and tried not to be nervous even though my knees were knocking. Didn’t help that I had to step around the piles of clothes Scott had dropped on the floor. As if I’d scold him over something that silly, but his sister was right. He could be a pig when he wanted to be. “Are you ready?”

  “Feeling like Daniel?”

  “Beg your pardon?”

  Scott chuckled. “You know, Daniel in the lions’ den.”

  “Oh.” No doubt about it—he knew I was afraid. The man was far too perceptive for my peace of mind. Then I noticed my hands shaking and realized even a five-year-old would have known I was a bundle of nerves. “Maybe a little. But you’re with me. I’ll be okay.”

  We walked into the Moose Lodge reception hall ten minutes later.

  The crowd was a little larger than last night, and their clothes ran the gamut. Some of the women looked ready for the junior prom, drowning in pastels, taffeta and crinoline. They reminded me of Miss Havisham in Great Expectations, still wearing her wedding dress after decades and decades. These women hadn’t been able to let go of the high school girls they used to be. There were also a few dressy casual pantsuits scattered around. Some obviously purchased their dresses at
Pottsville Tent and Awning.

  The guys mostly were Stepford thirty-somethings. Polyester suits. Dull ties. A few guys had beer bellies. Some had muscle mass that showed they probably worked out. Only one wore a T-shirt and a ball cap, both with the NASCAR logo. Go figure.

  Gotta love Indiana.

  Terri waved at me across the way. She nodded at Mike, who was talking to a group of guys he’d played baseball with back at Woodrow Wilson. She was good and stuck for a little while.

  “I could use a drink,” Scott said. “Want something?”

  “Diet Coke and rum, please.”

  He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Sure thing, angel.”

  I watched him walk away, thinking how lucky I was to be at this reunion with the best-looking man in the state of Indiana. Even more, he was polite. Kind. And he had a good heart, even if he could be a bit of a slob.

  I was about to sigh in appreciation when a heavy hand settled on my shoulder. Whirling around, I came face-to-face with evil incarnate.

  “Hi, Maddie. Long time, no see.”

  That familiar deep voice sent a cold chill racing the length of my spine, and it took every bit of my self-control not to vomit. Instead, I smacked his hand away as hard as I could.

  Craig’s responding smile reminded me of a snake. I half expected to see a forked tongue darting out between his thin lips. His spray-on tan made his skin almost orange. While he used to be the height of fashion, his clothes now bordered on tacky. Everything about him screamed “used car salesman”—which was exactly what he was, even if his family did own the two dealerships where he worked.

  What had ever possessed me to think he’d been handsome? Scott made Craig look like all he could win was a Mr. White Trash contest. I couldn’t stop a smile.

  Craig obviously misinterpreted my response. “I’m glad to see you too.” He nodded toward the line by the bar. “Who’s the guy? Heard you were still single.”

  “Heard you’re still an asshole.”

  His chuckle grated like sound of a malfunctioning garbage disposal. “Anita doesn’t seem to mind. Been married almost fourteen years now.”