Anything For Love

by Janelle Taylor

  “I’m ready,” she replied as she pushed back her chair and joined him.

  The couple left to enjoy themselves, as did Becky and Scott.

  Rachel chatted with Betty Burke for a while before the woman’s husband claimed her for a dance. As she began listening to one of her favorite groups—the Righteous Brothers—singing “You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling,” she almost dropped her cup of Diet Coke when Quentin tapped her on the shoulder and spoke to her from behind, his voice unmistakable.

  “Would you care to dance with me?”

  Rachel turned sideways in the chair, looked up at him, and nodded. She accepted the hand Quentin extended to her, rose, and walked a short distance before he pulled her into his unforgotten embrace. She hoped he didn’t detect her trembling and anxiety, evoked by his stimulating touch and her tension. She noticed he kept a safe distance between them and other couples. For privacy? she mused.

  “It’s been a long time, Rachel, twelve years.”

  So, he hasn’t forgotten me. “Yes, it has, Quentin.” Lordy, you still have a mellow and enticing voice and intoxicating aura! Please don’t work your magic on me again.

  “Were you surprised to see me here tonight?”

  “Shocked is more like it. You’ve really done well for yourself.”

  “I suppose so, but—as they say—glory is fickled and fleeting. Carrie told me you were married to one of her classmates and old friends.”

  You two have been discussing me? Let him know you weren’t married when you met him! “Does she know Daniel was killed in a plane crash fifteen years ago, on his way to a Georgia football game?”

  “One of the others told her the bad news earlier this evening. I take it from your name badge, you haven’t remarried.”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Why not? You’re a young and beautiful woman.”

  Rachel stopped glancing around to avoid meeting his potent gaze. “I’m forty-seven,” nine years older than you, “but thanks for the compliment.”

  “You evaded my question,” Quentin teased. “Why haven’t you remarried? Fifteen years is a long time for an attractive woman to remain a widow.”

  Rachel tried to sound playful. “Probably for the same reasons you’re single; good choices are few and far between.”

  Quentin grinned and chuckled. “You’re right. I guess that also means you’re familiar with my marital history and two mistakes.”

  “You have made the news frequently over the years.”

  “I’ve been in those sleazy tabloids more times than in reputable newspapers.”

  “Ah, the price of fame. May I ask a favor of you?” she whispered.

  Quentin slightly tightened his grasp on her hand. “Why not?”

  “Would you mind not telling anybody here that we’ve met before?” She watched him study her tense expression for a moment before responding.

  “I understand; a southern lady has to protect her image.”

  Rachel made sure no one could overhear them. “It may sound corny and old-fashioned, but yes, I do. These are my friends and acquaintances. I have children and grandchildren. What I did years ago was unusual for me and reckless, and I don’t want it to come back to haunt me.”

  “I catch your meaning, but you were and still are a real lady. Don’t be nervous with me, and consider these lips sealed.”

  “Thank you for being a real gentleman,” she said, coaxing a smile from him. She liked the way his black hair was cut and combed, soft and full and swept back from his handsome face. A fringe of it played across his forehead and the length grazed his collar. She remembered how it used to blow around on the windswept deck of the ship. His eyes were as dark and shiny as expensive sapphires and—she knew from experience—his potent gaze could draw a woman into their depths without trying. His full lips were sexy, and she knew with quivering delight how they kissed. His body was firm and muscular, and she knew how it made love: slowly and deliberately or swiftly and urgently, but always with generosity and talent. Lordy, he was magnificent, and she was falling under his spell! “Did you tell Carrie you knew me?” she asked to distract herself from her crazy emotions.

  “No, I only asked her who you were. I guess I was a mite devious.”

  Did you think I had lied about my name years ago, as you did? “She doesn’t know me; she left Augusta before I moved here.”

  “Carrie said that everybody in town knows who the Gaineses are.”

  “Perhaps, but I’m a Gaines by marriage and I’m not a local.”

  “Carrie asked another woman who the lady was sitting beside Rebecca Hartly and Jennifer Brimsford, then told me.”

  “Did she ask why you were interested in me or get jealous?”

  “No, I’m just a friend of her brother Donnie. I’m doing her a favor by escorting her tonight. I’m sure you know why she didn’t want to come alone.”

  “I’ve heard one-sided rumors, but I don’t know the facts, and it isn’t any of my business. It took a lot of courage and I hope she’s having a good time, but why did she come? You don’t have to answer if that’s personal.”

  “Donnie told me Carrie’s had a tough life, here and after she moved. He didn’t go into the details but reading between his words wasn’t difficult. He said she’s worked hard to get herself straight. She wanted to confront her past and conquer the bad parts so she can get on with her life.”

  “That’s very brave and admirable. I hope she succeeds. Tell her not to let any of the snobs here hurt her feelings or treat her badly.”

  “That’s nice of you to say, but you always were a nice person.”

  Rachel wondered if his voice had an odd tone to it during the last part of his sentence. It was hard to tell what he was thinking. One thing was certain, he still possessed that winning ability to put a person at ease. “How long will you and Carrie be in town?” she asked.

  “She’s leaving Sunday. I’m on vacation, so I’ll be around for a while.”

  “Vacation? Here? Isn’t this an odd place to select for pleasure?”

  Quentin knew he couldn’t tell her why he was really there, not yet. She would find out soon enough, so would the rest of the town. “Are you saying Augusta has nothing to offer a kind stranger?”

  I don’t like that secretive gleam in your eye, and I sense you aren’t being honest with me, again. “Augusta has plenty to offer; it just doesn’t seem to be your type of place.”

  “Because I like cruises and exotic places and special people?”

  Rachel lowered her gaze and licked her lips. Was he toying with her or trying to rekindle an old flame or just being genial? Lordy, it was exhilarating to be in his arms again. Had he decided to stay for a while before or after seeing her tonight? Please don’t ask why I left without saying good-bye, which should have been obvious to an intelligent man like you, or try to talk about our past together, not here, not when my wits are dazed. “I meant, big cities or secluded resorts.”

  “I get enough of big cities and crowds when I’m on the road with the team. As for secluded resorts, I haven’t visited one of those yet. Maybe that’s an idea I should keep in mind when I need peace and quiet.”

  The band hardly paused before playing another slow and romantic song, and Quentin did not release her from his embrace. To Rachel, it was almost like a trick by fate to keep her trapped there. She couldn’t decide if that was good or bad, not with the way she was feeling. The male singer was crooning words of a Paul Davis hit, “You know when I look in your eyes, I go crazy,” which just about described her reaction to Quentin years ago and tonight. A slight sheen of perspiration glistened on his face and she felt the dampness of his shirt from his previous exertions and from the heat, despite the cooling fans and slight evening breeze: as Augusta was known for its high humidity.

  “You’re mighty quiet, Rachel. Do I make you uncomfortable? If so, I don’t mean to. We are old friends. We had a wonderful time together. You don’t have to be nervous around me. What’s worrying
you?”

  “I suppose I feel a little out of place since this isn’t my class reunion; I’m sure Carrie told you that. My friends insisted I come so I could speak with Daniel’s old friends, and they thought I would have a good time.”

  “Everybody needs a fun and relaxing evening out once in a while. Privacy and true friends can be hard to find and keep. Right?”

  Surely you don’t expect me to touch your hints even with a ten foot pole, not here, not this soon, not after what happened between us. Yet, since he was being considerate and polite, she told herself to relax and enjoy his company, but to dig for clues about his feelings. “I doubt a big celebrity like you gets much of that, privacy, I mean. I’m sure your many fans deluge you with attention and pleas for autographs and for pictures. Being a superstar must be demanding.”

  “You’re right; it gets frustrating at times. When I became a pro quarterback, I didn’t realize I’d be on public display most of the time. I admit, in the beginning, it was exhilarating to have a crowd cheering my name and to have the media painting me as a sports giant. But if one isn’t careful and smart, it can become just as addicting and destructive as a drug. There’s nothing as entrapping as believing your own publicity and thinking the great times will go on forever. The people who put you on the top and the ones you passed getting there are the same ones who will help take you down fast if you make a mistake or weaken. There’s always somebody ready, willing, and praying—even plotting—to take your place.”

  “We Americans are bad about trying to immortalize our stars and heroes, then suffocating them with adoration and attention. Too many of us want to know every detail—good or bad—about their lives. That’s why those tabloids are so popular. But I wonder how much a star really owes his fans,” Rachel mused.

  “Most think we’re like their property; they believe, if it weren’t for their support, we could kiss our careers good-bye, no matter how much talent we have or how much pleasure we give them for years. After the media tells the world your salary—even though they don’t tell that half of it goes to all kinds of taxes—people want you to give them money for every kind of reason or cause that’s known; they expect you to say yes and berate you if you don’t. They want you to give speeches and make personal appearances and provide souvenirs or auction items for all sorts of things. I’m all for worthy causes, but everybody thinks their cause is a worthy one. I prefer dealing with those involving children or senior citizens. But I can’t do those things without creating a media circus that smacks of selfinterest publicity. Privacy becomes a coveted rarity, Rachel. Total strangers want to become our bosom buddies so they can brag about knowing us. But do or say something wrong and they’ll turn on you in a flash, especially those tabloids. People you hardly know come out of the woodwork to sell them scoops they swear are true about you, and sometimes you can’t prove otherwise. They’ll print anything about you, fiction or fact; they have no conscience or mercy when it comes to destructive coverage if it makes money and headlines for them.”

  Rachel noticed how his eyes brightened and his voice softened when he spoke of helping children and elders; that pleased her. She also noted the signs of irritation and frustration when he related those other facts. “That’s a shame, Quentin; but I suppose it’s a dark facet to human nature. We want and expect our heroes to retain their golden images. The public forgets you’re only human, too. I remember reading an article about Emmitt Smith. The writer said Emmitt was an ordinary person who happens to be an extraordinary athlete and that the spotlight follows his every action. Emmitt was quoted as saying sometimes he feels as if he’s an animal on display. That piece stuck in my mind because it was so enlightening and poignant and well written.”

  You’ve been reading about football and the Dallas Cowboys? I wonder why I don’t remember you mentioning an interest in sports…“Emmitt’s the tops in his field, and a good man; I’ve played with him for years; he deserves his fame and fortune, and his privacy. Too many of us are put on demanding pedestals too many times. But when your fifteen minutes of fame are over, watch out, because it’s open season on you. All I wanted to do was play football, not become a celebrity. But on the other hand, if one isn’t a success, he isn’t in demand.”

  Rachel decided not to mention his reported injuries and precarious rank on the Dallas Cowboys football team. “From the number of endorsements you’ve done, you’re certainly in big demand. I’ve seen you in television commercials and in magazine ads many times since over the years.”

  So, that’s how you discovered who I am. Or was it? And just how much study have you given me? “The pay is good, but some of the ads or commercials are silly, embarrassing. Take that underwear series. I felt stupid throwing passes in colored briefs. The receivers catching them in full gear had to struggle not to chuckle or shout jokes during the tapings.”

  She laughed. “So why did you do it? For the money and publicity?”

  “Nope. Well, not exactly, not like you mean. The offer was a big one and I wanted the money to buy my parents a peanut farm. Contrary to what most believe, players didn’t make that much before free agency started in ‘93. Those at the top depended on endorsements and on investments, when we could afford them, to supplement our incomes.”

  “A peanut farm?” Rachel was amazed. “Where?”

  “Right here in the peanut state, down near Colquitt, the only town in Miller County. It’s in the southwest section of the state.”

  Rachel had heard the town’s name but didn’t know where it was because Georgia was such a big state, the largest east of the Mississippi. She was confused by his choices. “Why did you select Georgia and peanuts?”

  “I didn’t; my family did. That’s where I was born and reared.”

  She stared at him. “You didn’t tell me you were a Georgia boy.”

  “The subject never came up; we didn’t have much time together to get to know each other’s history.” We were busy doing other things and busy keeping secrets, just like we are tonight. “I played football for the Colquitt Pirates. We were a small school and our record wasn’t the best, so I didn’t grab the big boys’ attention. But Coach Calhoun convinced me I was good enough for college and pro ball, and I loved quarterbacking. Georgia, Florida, and Alabama weren’t interested in me, a nobody; so I did a walk-on try-out for Barry Switzer at the University of Oklahoma. That was Coach Calhoun’s idea and it worked like a charm when Switzer saw me play. After graduation and with two national championships under my belt, I was drafted by the San Francisco 49ers and stayed with them for seven years behind Joe Montana. I was traded to the Dallas Cowboys as a backup and I’ve been with them for nine years. Switzer’s even coaching me again.” Or will be if I make the cut, which looks doubtful from where I stand.

  Rachel was glad he didn’t brag about his many awards or the number of Superbowls and Pro Bowls he had played in, and didn’t complain about his problems, which were serious. She knew he had injuries to his left shoulder and right knee, though he danced with graceful fluidness. According to the news, he was trying to make a comeback this year; if he failed, he would either be traded or cut or forced to retire. That had to be a resented and perhaps embarrassing predicament because it was obvious he loved the game and wasn’t ready to stop playing. So, she mused, why wasn’t he in physical therapy or at preseason practice? What was he really doing in Augusta? “I don’t know much about football; I never had…any sons to play. About the only team I noticed much”—before knowing you—“was the Georgia Bulldogs.”

  “Did you go to UGA?”

  “For a couple of years.”

  “You didn’t like college life or didn’t like being away from home?”

  Yes, let’s fill in a few blanks for each other. “I loved it, but I got married in my sophomore year and quit to have children. After my husband graduated, we moved to Augusta, his hometown. Carrie may have told you the Gaineses owned several local businesses, so Daniel went to work for them. My parents, the Timses,” see, I
used my real name and hometown on the ship, unlike you, “James Rawlings of Texas,” “they owned a small farm near Athens and sold vegetables to the farmer’s market for local restaurants. They’re deceased now. I was a late and only child. I don’t have any living relatives, but I do have two wonderful grown daughters, a fine son-in-law, and two delightful grandchildren.” A parent of adults, a mother-in-law, and a grandmother, Heavens, she fretted, that must make her sound old and dull to him! She tried to prevent a slight blush from staining her cheeks as she scolded, Whyever are you babbling on and on about yourself? What are you trying to do? Prove to him you would have been a better choice for a wife than his first two were? I wonder what would have happened between us if we had met under different circumstances and in a different location? Would something powerful have taken place? Would we still be together? Would I have prevented you from marrying those other two women? Or was I nothing more than a fiery summer shipboard romance, a good time? Yet, he had remembered her face and name, and he was being a gentleman despite their past intimacy and her abrupt escape. But was he only seeking a second tryst during his visit there?

  “We’ve both come a long way from our rural backgrounds.”

  His voice jerked Rachel back to reality, and she was sure he noticed her lapse in attention. “Yes, we have, Quentin, especially you.”

  “You’d never know you have grown children; you’ve changed little. You’re still one of the most enjoyable people I’ve met anywhere. Not too many people can be themselves around me; fame seems to be a blinder or an intimidator, but you don’t put on airs or freeze up. That allows me to be myself, which is nice and relaxing, and appreciated.”

  Rachel laughed to calm her tension as she wondered if he was being smooth or honest. Either way, she was being disarmed again by his appealing demeanor and stunning looks. “I see your parents taught you well about manners and southern charm. Thank you for the compliments.”

  After seeming to go on and on, the music halted and Quentin released her with noticeable reluctance. “It’s nice to see you again, but you’d better rejoin your date before she gets lonely over there; she needs your support tonight. Thank you for the dances and pleasant conversation.”