by Liz Crowe
On reflex she called her brother, needing his voice, his steady influence, even his outrage if she could get it.
"Hey," he sounded breathless.
"Hey yourself. I didn't interrupt anything did I? You sound…busy."
He laughed. "No. I just got back from a pick up soccer game." Sara smiled. Her soccer mom friend Lila had developed a wicked bad crush on Blake after meeting him a few weeks ago.
"Oh. Well," She let the thought dangle a little.
"Don't worry. He's okay with it. A woman who loves soccer as much as he does? I think I'm the one who should worry this time."
"I'm going out with him tonight."
"Huh? Who?"
"Who do you think?"
"I thought he had…I mean, okay, good for you…"
"I need you to go back to telling me to avoid him like the plague. Give me a reason to be logical about this."
"Too late for that. Follow your heart Sara."
"You are absolutely no help to me right now."
"Tough. I'm gonna go. Lila's coming over for dinner."
"Be careful. She's coming off a nasty divorce. Asshole dumped her, made her move out and is trying to get full custody of…"
"We know."
"Well, um, I'm not sure what to say."
"You don't have to say anything. We're just friends."
"Right. She's ga-ga over you. Like I said, watch it. You boys might overwhelm her."
He laughed and must have handed the phone over to Rob.
"Sara. Go out with Jack, make up, marry him. Do something. Just quit dancing around it. We are all sick of you both."
"Stop bossing me Frietag. And don't seduce my friend."
"Ha. I can hardly keep her from undressing your brother with her eyes every time she sees him. Tell her to take it easy, why don't you." But his voice stayed light and Sara had the thought that a full circle moment for those two might very well involve her fellow soccer mom. "Seriously, you and Jack need to quit this bullshit. Get it together. For Katie's sake? Hell, make her a little brother."
"When monkeys fly. I will never be pregnant again if I have any say in it."
"Whatever. Go. Have fun. Love you."
****
On her way out the door, she got another call.
"Hey handsome." She found lipstick, fumbled around for her car keys.
"Hi. How're things with you?" Craig's soft southern accent had deepened since his years spent in Nashville at med school. She loved the sound of it.
"Well, pretty good. Have a date, actually."
"Oh, sorry to bother you."
"No, no, I'm fine. Katie was asking about you today. You still taking her next weekend up to Traverse City for her tournament?"
"Yeah." He stayed quiet. Sara sat, sensing a problem.
"What's wrong? Spill it."
"Just wanted to hear your voice I guess." She heard busy hospital noises behind him.
"Cut the crap. What's up?"
"I don't know. Suzanne's being distant, like she's unhappy, but not really, but won't talk to me about it."
"She's been through a lot. Give her time. Be your amazing charming self. She'll come around. If not, I'll beat her up. How's that?"
"It's a deal. You going out with Jack?"
"How in the hell does everybody know this already?"
"Because if you don't the rest of us are gonna sue you for breach of contract, or something."
"Jesus. Coming from you, that's pretty harsh."
"Sara, you know how I feel about you. I won't ever like it that you're with him and not me."
"Craig…" She stood, uneasy with the direction he was going.
"I'm feeling sorry for myself I guess."
"Well stop it. Go out and get your woman. Stop messing around."
"Yes ma'am. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"Ha. Too late."
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jack fiddled with his cocktail napkin, ignoring the blatant stare of the woman who'd taken the empty bar stool next to him, despite the fact there were at least five other seats she could have taken. He did not need this, not tonight. His mind spun, his entire body felt like an exposed nerve ending. Gulping the bourbon, he signaled for another. When his phone buzzed with a text, he frowned, read it and typed out a reply: "Sorry, needed a night off. Let's talk tomorrow."
Shannon shot back. "Is it her? Just tell me now Jack. I don't play games."
He sighed. "Yes." She didn't answer so he tucked the phone away.
What was his problem? Sara. Jesus, he did not need her in his life, no matter what his heart said. They were not good together. But yet, they were. He shook his head, turning to face the bar so the admittedly very hot woman next to him wouldn't engage him, tempt him like he usually preferred. Distraction…he snuck a look at her legs. She uncrossed and re-crossed them, obviously aware of his gaze. He laughed and looked up at her just as Sara entered the restaurant. He leapt up, not ready to get caught in some bullshit misunderstanding yet again.
He stopped, speechless. The black dress fit her like the sexiest glove on the planet. Her lightly tanned arms and shoulders sparkled. Diamond earrings and a drop necklace he'd given her last Christmas made him smile. He fucking loved buying her jewelry, mainly because it pissed her off, but she never turned it down, unless it came with a "Will you…," question attached of course. He tucked his hands in his pockets and let her look around a minute, so he could study her a bit longer. A lifelong cynic about love, Jack had no pre-conceived notions about the two of them. But he did know one thing, and seeing her flirt with that oily bohunk of a soccer coach had solidified it for him.
He stepped to the side into her line of sight. She smiled and his universe slowly started to slide back into place.
Sara could not catch her breath. The whole car ride downtown, parking, the quick walk to the restaurant all had a weird, first date vibe – patently ridiculous given their long history. But she decided to treat it like one. Squaring her shoulders before entering she put on her best smile, forced herself to relax. It's just Jack for crying out loud. She smiled at the deep meaning that statement had for her through the years.
A whoosh of cool air greeted her, a relief after the late spring heat outside. Suddenly nervous, she fiddled with her hair, bit her lip and looked around. She had been twenty minutes late on purpose. Let him wait.
In a split second, the crowd parted like water, revealing him at the other end of the bar. He grinned, put his hands in his pockets, and she had to grab the back of a chair to keep standing up. She smiled but her body ached with a sudden unmet need she hadn't even acknowledged. The invisible line connecting them took shape, shimmering, strong and inevitable.
Do not let him do this Sara. You can resist it. You can…
"You are a vision of perfection." His voice rumbled through her like a thunderstorm on her horizon, ready to wreak havoc, and bring life-giving rain.
She stepped away unable to stand his proximity that soon. He smiled and nodded at the host who led them to the best table in Ann Arbor's best restaurant, tucked in the corner, near the front window. She sat, let the tuxedoed host put the napkin across her lap. He looked up at the waiter who'd immediately appeared.
"Bourbon, double and a martini, up for..." he looked at her. "…my date." She stuck her tongue out at him but felt a thrill at the way he handled it. She missed that, almost as much as the sensation of his lips and hands on her body. The long years of motherhood, slogging through the days as a new manager, trying like hell to impress him, to prove he'd not taken a chance on her professionally without reason, had been exhausting. And lonely. But now, this whole scene, she had no idea where to put her hands.
Get a grip. You don't have to impress him.
"So, what is all this about anyway?"
He touched the napkin to his lips and she had to clutch her own soft linen cloth to keep from leaping across the table at him. How did he do that anyway? Her hands shook so she kept them under the table
, leaving the martini untouched.
"A date, like I said." He sipped, never taking his eyes from hers. "No big deal." He held out a hand. She stared at it, then up at him. "Dear, I don't bite." She frowned then touched his palm. Regret, lust, and raw longing for everything about the man across from her nearly bowled her over. She took a bigger drink of the cocktail than she thought, and nearly choked. He laughed, stood and smacked her back, lingering over her bare skin much longer than necessary.
"You know, you can turn off the full frontal seduction assault." Her voice sounded weak and breathy to her ears. She cleared her throat, tried to summon anger to cover whatever complicated craziness swirled in her brain.
He sat, stuck his feet out, seemingly relaxed but she sensed something else. The loud restaurant quieted. All she knew was Jack. His eyes, lips, familiar and comforting, irritating in a way, but needed. She gulped and hid her stress with the martini glass remembering to swallow correctly this time.
"Oh, sorry, just being myself." He raised an eyebrow and his glass. She clinked hers against it. "So, what's your major?" She rolled her eyes.
"English. But I don't want to teach. I'll figure out something I guess." She finished off her martini, too quickly, and stood. "I need to," He lifted his water glass.
While in the luxurious ladies' room she sat, put a wet paper towel over her eyes. How in God's name could this end well?
By the time she made it back to the table she thought she had the wall back up – the fortress she'd constructed, torn down and rebuilt, usually in tears of anger over something stupid he'd done over the course of the last decade.
She smiled, tossed her hair back and made the crucial error of meeting his eyes. What she found there encompassed it all for her – the years, the heartache, the anger, the mistakes and the intensely physical thing they'd had for each other. Trying not to seem too obviously out of breath by the moment, she sat in the chair he'd pulled out for her. His hand lingered on her thigh a tad longer than necessary for simple napkin replacement. She resisted the urge to glare at him.
He's trying to be nice. Don't be a bitch.
"So, I'm thinking filet, but are you in a surf sorta mood? The lobster is on special." He studied his menu. She gaped at him, wondering why he didn't simply order for her. Whatever he chose would be perfect and they both knew it. She started to gnaw at her lip, then stopped when he grinned up at her and reached across the small table to touch her cheek. "You choose."
"I, uh, whatever you think. You know I'll go with it."
"All right then. But I'm getting a double order of those cheesy potatoes. I know how you are about them. Gotta keep you from licking the bowl and embarrassing me."
Sara laughed and felt her entire body relax in that instant. He ordered, after she picked the wine, and then sat back, silent, appraising each other. She crossed her legs, letting one sexy shoe clad foot graze his calf. He raised an eyebrow. "You trying to seduce me Thornton?"
"Hardly. Just crowded at this really intimate table you chose."
"Thanks for coming with me tonight. I've missed you."
"Huh, funny way of showing it." She smiled up at the sommelier as he presented, uncorked and poured wine for her to taste. She nodded then looked back at the man who, had things gone as originally planned, would be her husband right now. "Sorry. Catty. You don't have to answer to me."
Jack swirled his wine, staring into the bowl as if it held all the answers. "No, it's okay. I sort of sprung that Shannon thing on you, I know. Frankly it took me by surprise. We met, she chose me as her Dom for the night, it, um, was..."
Sara held a hand up. "Seriously, spare me."
He shook his head. "It was fine, nothing special, like it always is there for me. Really not much different than a solid workout. What I need, for body and soul, then I'm fine for a while. But we talked, my manager instinct kicked in and before I knew it I had her, I mean, you know. Oh never mind." He sat back. Sara stared, shocked at how rattled he seemed.
After a few moments, she leaned forward. "Look, Jack, we have way too much behind us to..."
"Enjoy a romantic dinner?" He lifted his wine glass. "To…us. Whatever the hell that means." Sara laughed and touched her glass to his before taking a sip of the rich Italian red.
"Did you know Katie has a boyfriend?"
Sara had to jump up and smack his back to get him past his coughing fit. Leaning down she put her lips to his ear, a little too close probably but the need to get a familiar whiff of him overpowered her. "You okay?" She kept her hand on his shoulder, loving the feel of it, strong and secure, under her palm.
"No. What the fuck? She's only nine!"
"Relax Uncle Jack. It's a crush. You know how those are?"
"The hell I do. I won't have boys sniffing around…." Sara laughed so hard she got the hiccups. "It's not funny." He muttered into his glass.
"Oh yes it is. You players are always the ones who end up with dau…"She stopped, took a sip of wine to cover her near slip.
"Yeah. I know." He left it at that.
As the meal progressed, they shared more laughter, memories and light flirtation. Sara marveled at the man's ability to turn it on and off like a light switch. Serious about something real-estate-related one second, the next teasing her about the oily bohunk soccer coach he'd watched her with that day. She tried to stay away from the one topic that burned her brain – Why Shannon? When? And where did he stand with her now?
"I needed her, for a time." Sara blinked. Had she spoken out loud? "Mainly because she needed me, and I love that; you know it better than anyone. The better, more mature and professional you get the less you need me."
"You? Needy?" She scoffed. "Other than for pussy?"
He glared at her. "I'll let that be the wine talking."
"Well, I'm glad then, that you…got to be needed…again?" She let her voice rise at the end, more than a little incredulous. Jack ran his hand fingers through his hair, and Sara's entire body clenched with the desire to do the same to him. She closed her eyes. The waiter cleared their dishes and started to present the desert menu. Sara looked up at him. "We'll have the..."
"Crème Brule." Jack finished, his smile soft and one step shy of sappy. She looked down, realizing that if she went with what had flashed through her head, she'd be kissing him right now. "And two black coffees."
"And now?" She settled back in her chair. "Do you still need to be needed by Shannon?"
Don't ask a question you don't want to know the answer to Sara.
"I don't know." He shrugged. "But I do know one thing." He leaned forward. She stayed still, not meeting him halfway like she knew he wanted or expected.
"What's that?"
"You are amazing. No seriously, you've turned that downtown office around, in spite of my meddling and budget cutting. You've headed off more crises than most managers combined and …. You are a fucking pure temptation in that dress."
"Oh, and you're gonna let me take credit are you? No more I'm a 'Jack Gordon creation'?" She winced, but had to ask. It had rattled around in her head for years since he'd yelled it at her, that last night at the party.
"For all of it. Shame on me for even thinking that, much less letting it pass my lips. I was an idiot. But, you knew that. It's why you wouldn't marry me, if I'm not mistaken."
She sat, unable to find words to express the roiling in her gut, the panicky fluttering in her chest. Could it be? Jack had grown up?
"And whoever picks out your jewelry is the bomb." She laughed, stuck her tongue out at him and picked up her spoon to dip into the crisp caramelized sugar that coated her favorite desert; a spoonful appeared at her lips first. She opened her mouth; let the pure sin of eggs, cream and vanilla slide down her throat. Her skin pebbled at the look in his eyes. They finished in complete silence, comfortable, easy and familiar. This time, when he held out a hand on the table, she took it, reveling in the now beloved snap and crackle of their connection.
"I'm not sleeping with you tonight. We
clear on that?"
"My dear, I would not dream of it. Why spoil a perfectly good evening with a fight?" She laughed and pulled his hand to her lips, kissed it then released him. "But," He would not let her break their eye contact. "I will kiss you though. A lot. So be ready."
She blushed, got that "first date" thrill up and down her spine again. Jack knew how to pull off this sort of thing.
Jack sipped his coffee and watched her blush. No, they were not going to end in the bed, or the floor, or the couch or the hallway or the car. No, he admonished himself. Tonight was about connecting on a different level; one they'd danced around so many times but never committed to. His body did its usual thing, trying to convince him otherwise; the painful press of his cock behind his zipper a perfect example.
He shifted in his seat and willed it down, willed himself to talk, to impress, to convince; and yet, at the same time, already breaking up with Shannon in his head. He'd made the mistake of committing to a few long-range dates with her, of course. One, a black-tie fundraiser thing, he couldn't back out of gracefully. He'd just have to make her understand they went as friends, nothing more or less.
Sara.
She tried to reach for the check when it arrived. He let her.
"Damn, Gordon, you are not a cheap date." She tucked her credit card into the folder and smiled at him. Her green eyes lit up, and his heart soared. This was going to work. He'd be damned if he'd fuck it up again. He frowned when his phone buzzed, ignored it. But when it stopped then started again he realized it must be an emergency.
His sister informed that Katie had a slight fever and wanted to come home. He sighed, and looked at his date. "Well, your daughter is sick. We have to go pick her up."
"What?"
"Yeah." He watched her sign off on the tab and tuck her card away.
"How is Maureen doing anyway?" He slipped an arm around her waist as they walked toward the door.
"As well as can be expected, I guess. She was an absolute mess for a while. He lived, you know, long enough for her to get to the hospital. He held on so he could tell her he loved her one more time." Jack stopped outside the restaurant, looked up at the sky. A light breeze ruffled Sara's hair and he couldn't resist the urge to reach out and tuck it behind her ear. "I loved that guy like a brother, you know?" Alarmed at the emotion rising in his chest, he cleared his throat, and tucked her hand into his arm.
