by Nikki Duncan
The first step in the plan called for a pseudonym. It would help protect his privacy while also giving him a way to talk to Tabatha without her guard up. Before approaching her, he’d worked on the him part of his plan.
With the job secured, he’d found a place to live and worked on getting serious about life and being accountable to the clock. While doing that, he’d watched from a distance as Tabatha moved around in a town she seemed to love with friends she seemed to adore. Then he saw her picture on a dating website.
Unable to stomach the idea of her finding someone new, someone she decided was better than him, he’d signed up for the dating site and crafted a profile sure to match up with hers. When she’d responded, he’d almost been too excited to keep from revealing everything, but he’d resisted.
Each delay to meet was carefully constructed to keep her interested while giving him time to see how her time in Miami had changed her. He’d thought enough time had passed, that he’d revealed enough of who he was now, for her to at least give him a chance. Clearly he’d thought wrong.
“So,” Sam said when she came back. “You knew you were meeting Tabatha. Who did she think you were?”
“The better question was who she thought I wasn’t.”
“The answer?”
He had no problem telling her the truth. At least nothing other than the possibility that Tabatha didn’t want people to know. She’d built a new life, just as he had. He needed to know how he fit in it before he tossed around the complete truth. So, instead of saying her husband he went with, “Her past.”
“How long past?” she asked while filling orders for other customers.
“Too long,” to be without Tabatha, “and not long enough,” for her to forgive me.
“Sounds like you have some amends to make.”
If Sam was insightful enough to read him after only a few minutes, she might have some tips to help win Tabatha back, because he’d bet they knew each other beyond a regular bartender/customer relationship. “Got any advice on getting her to listen?”
“Don’t play games. Be genuinely interested and attentive, but not stalkery.”
“If only it were so simple.”
“It’s exactly that simple.” She nodded as she walked to another customer.
Unlike his teammate, Will, the only games Danny played were sports and genuine interest had always been easy when it came to Tabatha. Being attentive was his weakness. Especially when it meant being attentive to a clock. He was doing better with being on time, thanks to the constant use of his cell phone alarms.
Being late for the date with Tabatha had surely been the serving hit to her quick departure. If there was one thing Danny had perfected during his marriage it was how to soften Tabatha’s anger with groveling. And passion. He’d hoped to still have that power. His hope hadn’t died, but it had suffered a hard hit with her retreat.
However much Tabatha had changed during their separation, one irrefutable truth remained. She was drawn to him. She’d gotten better at resisting him, though not good enough to fully hide her shiver when he moved in close.
That alone kept his hope for a reconciliation alive.
It was time for her to see how determined he was to win her back. To prove they were supposed to be together.
With determination firmly in his grasp, he tossed some bills on the bar for Sam, not that he’d ordered a drink, and left. He would romance his wife until she admitted she’d never stopped loving him.
He’d start the way they met. Over laughter. He just needed to make her laugh instead of flee.
An hour later, with how to accomplish the first step still a mystery, Danny retreated to the only place he felt truly comfortable—the beach.
Water bottle by his side—he’d given up soft drinks and alcohol while training—he sat on the volleyball court beneath the net with his back against the support pole. Practices and drills went through his mind while the moon shone on the ocean beyond. The sand sifted through his toes, grounding him in certainty. He’d bounced through life with no real purpose or direction until Tabatha. She wouldn’t believe him if he said it, but she’d changed him.
“What are you doing out here?” Will, his teammate, asked while dropping to the sand beside him. “Thought you had a big date tonight.”
“Did. It ended early.”
“So you came here.”
“It’s where I think best.”
“A first date gone wrong’s worth extra thinking?”
Will was an amazing volleyball player and friend. And he was smart, he just saved most of his thinking for the matches. Then he was thinking of ways to get in their opponents’ heads.
“No.” Few women since Tabatha had ever gotten a first thought. None had gotten a second. “The date was with my wife.”
“Wife? How in Hell did I not know you were married?”
“Separated. I told you I moved here for personal reasons. Well, it’s really just one reason. Tabatha.”
“I take it from the date ending early she’s not as into the idea.”
“Yet. I’ll win her back.” Like a shark with a taste for blood, Danny had discovered the sweetness of victory. He liked it, and winning Tabatha back would be the sweetest victory.
“How’d you screw it up in the first place?”
“Why do you assume it was me?”
“It’s always our fault. Whether we’re too good or not good enough. We just can’t make them happy.”
“This from the man whose longest relationship has been with a volleyball.”
“The ball has no expectations and it never wants to complicate things with feelings.”
“Yes. Feelings are horrible things,” Danny deadpanned.
“They are when they complicate shit or step onto the court with you.”
“Has my game been off?” Danny knew there was nothing wrong with his game. He matched Will volley for volley and serve for serve as they defeated every team they faced.
Will—a bigger playboy than he could ever have been—looked at him harder and more serious than normal. “Your game’s fine, but you haven’t mentioned a wife before. I can’t help wonder what else you haven’t mentioned that could screw with the game.”
“Tabatha won’t mess me up.” Again. She still had power over him that made forgetting or moving on impossible, but he refused to allow her on the court. Volleyball had saved him. It would remain his.
To prove his point, maybe to himself, Danny gestured to the court. “We can go right now if you need reassured.”
His voice leaned heavily on reassured, daring his partner to doubt him. The more people doubted him, the harder he played. And he’d faced a lot of doubt since joining Will. He was a virtual unknown with next to no track record. The public ate up the mystery of his past and he fed it by giving vague answers and always wearing sunglasses and hats that obscured most of his face.
Luck had been working in his favor so far, but luck always ran out or, more accurately, shifted from a favorable fate to a vindictive vixen.
“A hot-headed challenge does not reassure me,” Will said calmly.
“Speaking with no contractions does not make you right.”
Will wasn’t the first person to call him hot-headed. Hot-blooded, irrational, unrealistic, lazy. They were all on a much longer list of less than positive words used to describe Danny. Self-reinvention was hard and time-consuming, but while he couldn’t change everything about himself he hoped he’d changed enough to win back Tabatha.
“And it’s a heartfelt challenge, not a hot-headed one,” Danny stated. “I’m not known for talking much, especially not feely shit, but I’m in Miami for two reasons. One, to play volleyball. Two, to win back my wife. I may be an absent-minded dumbass who screwed up an amazing thing, but I’ve never been a quitter.”
Will Wylie, playboy to the
extreme, whose only commitment was to volleyball, wouldn’t be able to understand why Danny would want to tie himself down to one woman. Words hadn’t been invented to describe the what, the why or the how he’d grown to feel for Tabatha. Frankly, explanations were only owed to Tabatha and they would have to be shown for her to believe.
“Not sure why you’d want to, but what’s your big plan for winning the ball and chain back?”
“I’d thought about going back to the beginning. Warming her up with what won her over the first time.”
“And that’s where I stop listening,” Will said as he stood.
“Pervert.” Danny scowled. “That’s not what I meant.”
“There’s nothing wrong with basing things on sex. Maybe not a marriage…”
“I meant laughter.”
“Shit.” Will burst out a laugh. “Now the rumors about you being gay make more sense.”
“What?”
“Your marital castration has screwed your testosterone levels. Do you think you can recover from that?”
“Save your trash talk for the court and our opponents.”
Will sank back down into the sand and sighed. “You’re going to ask for help or advice, aren’t you?”
“Your advice would be to give her the divorce and go to bed with a different woman every night.”
“If she’s asked for a divorce, hell yeah. Unshackle yourself. Play on and off the court.”
Growing up in a functional family in a dysfunctional world had preconditioned Danny to look for commitment. No couple in his family, regardless how rough things got, had ever divorced. They’d gotten close, but always reconciled and became stronger.
His and Tabatha’s beginning had been the quickest and most unexpected, with their wedding coming only a few short months after meeting for the first time. They’d been asked if she was pregnant and the marriage was his way of doing right by her, and their refusals hadn’t fully been believed until her body proved the story for them. Only then had his family begun to accept that he hadn’t made too hasty a choice.
With their acceptance he’d grown confident that he’d found the right partner in Tabatha. Then he’d grown lazy in the comfort and had lost her. The loss didn’t lessen his feelings. Instead, it motivated him and taught him not to take things, or people, for granted.
“You think she’ll give you another chance?”
“Damn I hope so.”
“I’m going to have to meet this woman, because I’m not sure anyone is worth your willingness to eat crow.”
“Groveling isn’t the worst fortune we can know.” There was more pleasure in knowing he had someone to support him and encourage him to be better. There was definitely pleasure to be found in that woman’s arms. In Tabatha’s arms.
Missing Tabatha’s touch was worse. Much worse.
Chapter Three
A real man tells jokes not lies. I had a real man once. What’s yours like? #singlelife
Certain her followers would respond with a list of qualities they’d found in men, Tabatha posted the tweet and then reached across her desk for one of the numerous files awaiting her attention. No amount of thinking about Danny would distract her from her clients. She wouldn’t allow it.
Tulle and Tulips Designer Weddings, with its unique setup, had been a great new beginning. Every lead coordinator—flowers, venues, bling, catering, music and so on—was an owner of her own business under the Tulle and Tulips umbrella. Clients could hire coordinators individually or contract the entire company, in which case Lori Mullins, the head coordinator and founder of Tulle and Tulips, would pay the coordinators based on their agreed-upon fees.
Tabatha had found a home in venues and contract negotiations with a major upside being a group of amazing women who’d become great friends. The newfound purpose of her life revolved around her career, her clients and knowing the people in her life were dependable enough to be where they said they would be. She no longer lived life moment to moment, sometimes the center of her husband’s universe and sometimes forgotten.
She’d found stability and reclaimed happiness.
Or so she’d thought until Danny walked into Sam’s bar three days ago. With a touch and a few words, he’d riled her arousal and temper in equal parts. He’d revived every disappointment she’d worked to put behind her and reminded her just how powerful those moments when she’d been the center of his world were. He’d made her want to go back, to experience again just one moment in his arms when his attention was completely focused on her.
She’d never been more miserable.
“Tabatha.” Jenny’s perky voice on her intercom interrupted her thoughts.
Tabatha pressed the button to respond. Tulle and Tulips was Jenny’s first job, but she’d proven herself to be everything they could dream of in a receptionist. “Yeah?”
“Maria Gregger called to reschedule today’s appointment. She missed a step and broke her ankle.”
“Oh no.”
“They’re at the hospital to get it taken care of. She says she’ll be fine as long as she’s out of the cast by the wedding.”
“Is she drugged? That doesn’t sound like her.” Maria was a new client. With her wedding only a few months away and no venue yet, the woman epitomized the definition of bridezilla. She changed her mind more often than Tabatha bought new lip gloss, which was often because she was always losing them. A broken ankle was going to agitate the already stressed bride.
“I think she was.” Jenny chuckled. “She sounded quite mellow. Sheree’s going to get her rescheduled.”
Fresh out of college with a marketing and business degree that was coming in handy, Tabatha’s new personal assistant, Sheree, was turning out to be a constant amazement.
“By the way,” Jenny said, “you have a delivery at the security desk.”
“Thanks.” Wondering why the delivery hadn’t been taken down the hall to Jenny, and resigned to the fact she wouldn’t be focusing on contracts while thoughts of Danny and the past were in her head, Tabatha left her office.
The lobby of Tulle and Tulips was buzzing with brides and grooms and families and friends. A bride stood on the runway near the back of the store, studying her possible dress in the mirror while Lori and her lead sales consultant stood by. A raucous tune came from Aleshia’s office as she clearly worked with a couple to either choose their first dance song, hopefully not the rap currently shaking her window, or their reception playlist.
Pulling her phone from her pocket as she exited the double doors of Tulle and Tulips and entered the hall that led to the building’s main entrance, she pulled up Twitter and typed a new tweet.
Brides and bling, grooms and tuxedos, and rap music. One of these things is not like the others. #weddingplannerlife
Before reading the responses to her previous tweet, and there seemed to be several, she rounded the corner of the hall. The smile she had for Brad, the head security guard on duty, slipped as she noticed the man sitting in the waiting area across the lobby.
Danny.
Her stomach fluttered with excitement even as her shoulders dropped. She filed for divorce and he ignored her. She moved across the country and he followed her. She walked out of a date and he tracked her down. What would it take to be rid of him?
“Tabatha.” Brad stood with his wide smile. “You look lovely as always.”
“Thanks.” She nodded toward Danny, who watched her from where he still sat. “Please tell me he’s not the delivery.”
Brad leaned on the tall counter that served as his desk and sent her the flirtatious wink he always greeted her with. “Will you smile again if I do?”
“Maybe.” Unable to resist his charm and the way he always eased her stress with a few quick words, she did smile. “Especially if you can make him disappear.”
“That’s one I can do.” Brad shifted h
is demeanor from flirty friend to serious security guard. “Just say the word.”
She glanced Danny’s way, met his gaze, and for a moment actually considered taking Brad up on the offer. If she thought it would actually work she’d do it. “I’ll deal with it.”
“If you change your mind let me know.”
“Thanks.” Tabatha attempted to formulate a plan for dealing with her husband. Unfortunately, she had nothing when she reached him, which gave him the opening he no doubt had been looking for.
Danny stood, took her left hand in his right one and kissed her before she could react.
It wasn’t a kiss on the hand or cheek that could be easily brushed off. No. He leaned in, locked his gaze with hers and kissed her full on the mouth, teasing her closed lips with the tip of his tongue. The moment she gasped, opening her mouth, he eased back and grinned.
“Hello, beautiful.”
She tugged at her hand he still held, but he wouldn’t let her go.
“Why are you here?” She didn’t ask how he knew where to find her. She hadn’t offered the information to him, but it wasn’t exactly a secret. Still, no matter how public her Twitter profile was, she didn’t want him around her work place or her friends. Her meddlesome friends.
“I needed to apologize.”
“For coming here, pulling me from work and kissing me?”
“So many things. Not those.” He shook his head and sighed deeply. “But too many others to mention in this lobby.”
Regret or remorse or whatever he was expressing struck her as uncharacteristic. He’d never been a bad guy, but his self-centeredness had kept him from ever saying he was sorry and meaning it. The sincerity in his tone made it tough for her to refuse him.
Tough, not impossible.
She hardened herself and ignored the rapid beat of her pulse that had kicked into high gear when he kissed her. “You shouldn’t have come here, Danny.”
“To Miami or this building?”
“Pick one.” The man infuriated her when he pretended not to know what she was talking about. There’d been a time he could make her laugh with the pretense, because he’d always turned it into a game that led to bed.
