Blushing Pink

by Jill Winters

  "Joanna!" Mrs. Claflin called, and motioned with a cruller. "Come sit with us; you've been working so hard!"

  "Yes, sit, sit," some of the others said.

  Joanna smiled, demurring the compliment, and took a seat next to Mrs. McBride—Lane's mother—who said, "Ooh, Reese, be a hon and put a fresh pot on, will you? Since you're up."

  "Um, sure," Reese said, even though she'd been eyeing a free chair next to Mrs. Colby.

  "So, Reese, your mother tells us you're working toward your Ph.D.," Remmi Collindyne said casually.

  "Mmm-hmm, yes, I am," Reese replied, as she put a fresh filter in the pot. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw her mom positively beaming with pride.

  "Ooh, how interesting!" Mrs. McBride chimed. "How much longer till you get it?"

  "Um..."

  "Well, it all depends on her dissertation," Joanna said enthusiastically. "If she gets that done soon, she'll be a 'doctor' in no time. As it is, she's been earning straight As."

  She must have meant "straight" in terms of the grades she selectively remembered.

  "Ooh, wo-ow," Mrs. McBride crooned, "aren't you just so smart!"

  "Reese, your mother also tells us you're dating a man in your program," Remmi said, biting into a frosted doughnut.

  "Well—"

  "Yes, she is," Joanna gushed, "and he's quite a dreamboat!" Now Reese lost all desire to sit—she just wanted to retch—while her mother launched into a testimonial that rendered Kenneth eligible for canonization any day now.

  Reese tuned out a lot of it, and focused solely on the rhythmic drip of the percolator.

  "And after she earns her Ph.D.," Joanna was saying, as Reese carried the pot to the table, "she's going to teach college. But I've always said that would be a perfect career for her, because academics, like most other things, come so naturally to her."

  "Although I'm still not sure if I want to teach college," Reese said casually to the table. "I might, but I'm still deciding what I want to do."

  "But whatever she decides, she'll be a shoo-in with that Ph.D.," Joanna said briskly.

  Sure, Reese would've liked to amend, "If I get that Ph.D.," but she wouldn't do that in front of her mother's friends. She just wished that damn degree didn't mean so much to her.

  "So, Reese, is it really serious with this boy you're dating?" Mrs. Beacon asked.

  "Well, to be honest... I don't really know." Joanna shot her a scandalized look. "I mean... I'm not sure exactly how I feel about him." Joanna paled. "I'm just at a confusing point in my life right now," Reese qualified but got the distinct feeling she was digging herself deeper. She darted an eye down at her mother, who looked somewhere between perplexed and in pain. Reese didn't want to make it any worse, so she said, "Um... I guess I don't know what I'm trying to say."

  The women around the table chuckled. Soon they were saying patronizing things like, "Ah, to be that young again," and Joanna was back to beaming. Now her daughter was a hit.

  Reese just stood there smiling feebly, because... hell, what else could she do?

  * * *

  Brian had been on the phone with Veronica no more than twenty minutes, but it felt like longer. Much longer. She was still telling him about her day, and he was guiltily not hearing most of it. He hadn't meant not to listen—his focus just kept drifting to thoughts of Reese Brock.

  She was so sweet to give up the last minutes of her break to help her friend, Elliot. And it was so cute how Reese played off her doctoral fellowship at Crewlyn College like it was no big deal, when in fact it was damned impressive. He wasn't sure why he'd ended things so abruptly today, except that he'd been feeling guilty. Although he and Veronica weren't back together, they seemed to be heading toward a full reconciliation and...

  He just didn't know.

  Christ, what the hell is with me? Thirty fucking years old and he still hadn't figured out how to fill the hole inside him—the emptiness that crept into his consciousness at the most unlikely times. Like when he was in the middle of the most chaotic day at work, or running from meeting to meeting with hardly a moment to think—it would just hit him.

  But in the past few days, he'd felt different—elevated, invigorated. It was as if that night on the Brocks' love seat had stoked a fire in him that was still going strong. And he liked the feeling. He liked Reese... with an intensity he hadn't felt in a long time. She was so easy to talk to—so fun to talk to. So goddamn sexy.

  A vivid picture of her came into his mind: adorable and bright with gorgeous green eyes, a full pink mouth, one very luscious ass....

  "Brian?"

  "What?"

  "Brian, you're not even listening to me!" Veronica cried. "I was telling you about the new student in my on-toe class."

  "Oh... no, I heard you."

  "Then what did I say?" God, he hated this game. "Uh-huh, that's what I thought," she added bitterly.

  He sighed, because he knew she was right, and he didn't know what to say to make it better. Frankly, he hadn't been listening, and he couldn't say he was too curious about what he'd missed.

  Veronica sulked for a moment, and then started saying something about the winter recital, using lots of technical terms, and, for some reason, it annoyed him. Had she once asked about his job?

  Not that he wanted to talk about his job, but still... She could've at least asked about Danny.

  "So when am I going to see you?"

  "Uh—"

  "How about this weekend?" she pressed. "Brian, I really want us to get together and talk about the relationship."

  He held back a sigh. "Uh... lemme think... this weekend, this weekend..."

  "Well, what about some night this coming week?" she persisted.

  "This week's kind of busy, if you want to know the truth. Project Blue's sort of kicking my ass right now."

  "That figures," she said testily. "You and your job—as always."

  "No, Veronica, it's not like that—"

  "So, then, when? I want us to talk."

  Finally, they made a tentative date for the week after next and, after a little more bickersome conversation, said good-night. Brian had to face the fact that he was getting more annoyed with Veronica than was fair. She really hadn't said or done anything out of character, and he'd found her character fine enough to be with for eight long years.

  It was as though he were looking to find fault. But why?

  Ultimately, he didn't search very long for answers; he simply flopped into bed.

  Within minutes, he fell into a deep sleep that featured rapid eye movement and Reese Brock naked. His dreams were carnal and dirty, and the things she did to him with that full mouth hardened his dick like a rock and made him ache.

  The night didn't last nearly long enough.

  Chapter 15

  While Brian was tossing in bed, Reese was typing like a maniac. She'd been hit with an amazing surge of energy after she'd gotten home from the clubhouse, so she'd booted up her laptop and actually started writing. So far, she had five pages down.

  Ironically, trying to explain to her mom's friends what she wanted to do with her life had strengthened her resolve. But it wasn't just that. She had noticed a change in her outlook over the past week. Her spirits were brighter, more positive, more driven, and she felt younger. Like the whole world lay in front of her. Like her life was out there waiting to happen.

  Her cell phone rang. Startled, she glanced at her clock: 1:45 a.m. Who on earth could be calling her now? She hopped up from her desk and took her phone off the nightstand. Angela's number lit up on the display screen.

  Flipping her phone open, Reese said, "Hi, is everything okay?"

  "Yeah, fine. Why?"

  "Just because it's late. How come you're not asleep?"

  "Oh, did I wake you?" Angela said obliviously. "What time is it, anyway?"

  "Almost two. You didn't wake me, though. I was up working on something."

  "What?"

  Reese debated for a few seconds, not wanting to
jinx her newfound industriousness, but then decided to come clean. "Actually," she said, taking a seat on her bed, "you know how I always used to talk about writing a novel?"

  "Yeah. Back when you were in college, right?"

  "Uh-huh. Well, I'm sort of doing it now. Or trying to. Well, I just started."

  "Oh, cool! How much do you have? What's it about? When can I read it?"

  "I don't know," Reese said. "I mean, I don't know if it's gonna go anywhere, or if I'll finish it. I only have five pages so far."

  "Oh, okay," Angela said, backing off. "That's cool, though. You're so lucky—at least you know what you want to do with your life. Anyway, keep me posted."

  "I will. What are you doing up, anyway?" Reese climbed under her comforter and curled into the always gratifying fetal position. "Can't sleep?"

  "Nah. I'm watching Nick at Night. Taxi's on next, I think."

  "Oh. Where's Drew?" Reese asked casually.

  "He's in bed. I'm in the living room."

  "So how are things, by the way? You know, between you two?"

  "Same," she replied. She definitely didn't sound like she wanted to hash it out at the moment, so Reese let that subject go, and heard the Taxi theme music playing in the background. A moment later Angela grumbled, "Oh, great, I just saw this one."

  Reese wished she knew how to advise her sister, who was clearly depressed about Drew and her job, but she knew Angela would want to ask herself.

  Just then, the call waiting beeped. What the hell? Reese had virtually no life these days, and now two calls in the middle of the night?

  "Hold on. Believe it or not, it's the other line." She clicked over. "Hello?"

  "Reese? I'm glad I caught you at a good time." What? It couldn't possibly be. Kimble!

  "Professor? It's sort of late." You freak!

  "Yes, I realize that, but I was very alarmed when I saw you hadn't included something in the chapter you left for me to review."

  "Oh... I didn't?" Gee, how could he tell? Reese was sure that all of Kimble's "arguments" mirrored each other, but apparently not—apparently he actually had a method to his pronounced madness. "What did I miss?"

  "I specifically remember mentioning my new theory about historical documents and how they translate history into the written word. Where was that?"

  Reese rolled over and threw the comforter over her head. "I guess I forgot," she said on a sigh. "You know, Professor, it is sort of late. Can you e-mail me tomorrow—"

  "Well, I'd like to get a couple notes to you while I have you on the line," he stated boldly and, of course, unapologetically.

  Reese mumbled a dejected, "Hold on," then clicked back over to Angela. "Hello?"

  "Hi, who was it?"

  "Actually, it's Professor Kimble."

  "What?"

  "I gotta go," she said miserably.

  Sympathetically, Angela said, "I'm sorry. Men are such losers. Which reminds me—have fun on your date tomorrow night."

  Reese almost laughed.

  * * *

  Angela crept through the blackened bedroom, using the single stream of moonlight peering through a crooked blind to find her bed. She climbed into it carefully, so she wouldn't wake Drew, who was rolled over on his side, with his face buried between their pillows.

  Sliding under the covers, she shifted a little to get comfortable, and that was when she heard and felt Drew shifting, too. In fact, he wrapped his arm around her, snuggling up against her side and pulling her close. Lifting his head, he moved it to rest on her pillow, and now she could feel the light waft of his breath on her temple.

  She figured he was dead asleep and had no clue what he was doing, so the affectionate gesture didn't really mean much. She tried to turn onto her side without rocking the bed, and that was when Drew moved them both into a deep spooning position and kissed her neck. Experimentally, she ran her fingers down the forearm that was hugging her—and he tightened his hold.

  Then he whispered, "I love you."

  She whispered back, "I love you," and lifted his hand up to kiss his knuckles. And then she heard the soft, even sound of his breathing as he slept.

  * * *

  "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."

  "What are you talking about? It's a fabulous idea."

  Somehow Reese doubted it. She still didn't know how Ally had managed to talk her into coming with her to the Goldwood Fitness Center. Reese hadn't worked out at a gym for so long, and it had to be for a reason.

  "Oh! Wanna try the Butt Blaster?" Ally said, excited. "It's new; it's really cool!"

  "No," Reese said emphatically. "I told you, I'm just gonna stick with the treadmill."

  Ally shrugged. "Okay. Hey, Cora," she said to the young woman behind the sign-in desk. "How's it going?"

  "Oh, hi, Ally," she said, smiling, and then eyed Reese. Her brow arched quizzically. "Are you new?"

  "This is my sister, Reese," Ally said. "She's coming as my guest." Cora ran her eyes up and down over Reese's body blatantly. By her expression, she didn't seem bowled over by the gray sweatpants and long-sleeved T-shirt with a crab decal and the caption I'm a little crabby.

  "C'mon," Ally said, and tugged on Reese's hand. "Oh! I'll show you the Gravitron—"

  "Hold it right there."

  They turned and found a petite middle-aged man, with a grayish balding head and a neon-green parachute suit. He was holding a clipboard, gracing Reese with a bland smile, and not bothering to introduce himself. "We like to get some preliminary information before nonmembers use, the equipment," he said, coming closer, studying Reese, and then jotting something down. "Now, what's your height and weight?"

  "Um, actually, I'm just here for the day, so—"

  "But you'll be using the equipment, right?" he asked a little petulantly as he jotted something else down on his clipboard.

  "Well, just the treadmill," she replied, inching away from him. "I'm her guest," she said, looking to her side... and not finding Ally there. Reese spun her head, trying to see where her sister had gone, and then give her the evil eye for abandoning her. "Well, she was here a minute ago...." Then she spotted her about fifteen feet away, standing next to a mammoth machine labeled, The Sonic Bulkalizer. She was talking to two well-built guys who appeared to be swooning. Meanwhile, Reese was still inching.

  "I'd say you're about five-three; is that right?" the man with the clipboard asked.

  "Yeah, I am, well, thanks for asking—"

  "And your weight?" he pressed on, his bland expression changing to impatient. Jeez, couldn't he let it die already? She didn't know her exact weight, and she didn't want to. She came here to feel better about herself, not worse.

  "I really don't know the exact figures. So, thanks," she said, turning away.

  "Well, before you head to the machines, I need to get your weight."

  "Why?" she nearly snapped. Sounding defensive hadn't been part of her plan, but it usually came pretty naturally. Anyway, how would he like it if she asked his follicle count?

  He sighed and gently nudged her toward the tall scale against the wall.

  She shrank at his touch, and was just about to yell harassment, when he said, "Step up, please." What could she do? Make a huge scene and shout, "No means no!"? Ally would love that. They'd have to leave because Ally had driven them. Not to mention, the story would haunt Reese forever. And, if she wasn't mistaken, Cora from the front desk was coming to the wedding. But then, who wasn't?

  "Step up, please," he repeated, annoyed.

  Swallowing tremulously, Reese set one foot on the scale platform. "Wait," she said quickly, "shouldn't I take off my shoes?" He shook his head, and jotted. Bringing the other foot to join the first, she waited as the man tried to balance the scale and get a reading. Relax, she told herself, what's the big deal? She was being silly. It wasn't like these numbers were going to be a matter of public record. The man was a discreet professional, after all.

  "One-thirty-six!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. Reese's face
got embarrassingly hot, and she all but jumped off the scale. She supposed she could point out—loudly—that she still had her sneakers on, and that she questioned the authenticity of the calibration, but... really, the damage was already done. Not that having her weight broadcast was a tragedy; it was just the principle.

  "Hmm..." the man was saying as he examined her "chart." Nodding, he elaborated. "Yeah, you're gonna wanna reduce that high end." Huh? If he meant lose some fucking weight, she knew that already.

  "Okay, um, can I go find my sister now?" Reese asked uncomfortably.

  "First we need to go over your short-term and long-term goals. At the Goldwood Fitness Center, we offer—"

  "Look, I'm a hands-on kind of person, okay? If I'm gonna join this facility, I need to try it out for myself." Before she lost her nerve, Reese turned around and left the man standing there. She'd say he was extremely judgmental for a short, graying baldy with a paunch—not that she was still bitter about that whole scale thing. Really.

  She met up with Ally just as she was saying goodbye to the two guys she'd been talking to. "Oh, Reese! There you are."

  "Uh, yeah, here I am," Ally didn't catch Reese's snide tone, which was just as well. Reese was feeling every bit like her long-sleeved T-shirt right now, and it really wasn't her sister's fault.

  "Tony and Bill asked if we needed spots," Ally said brightly.

  "Spots for what?"

  "For the machines. I'm gonna use the Turbo Toner first. What about you?"

  "I told you, I'm just using the treadmill," Reese reminded her.

  "Oh, that's right. Okay, well, I'll see you in a little bit," Ally headed off to the right, and Reese headed to the left, hearing in the background people calling to her sister, saying hello, and asking if she was excited about the wedding. They were mostly guys.

  Her little sister was right; this place was a real pickup scene. Ugh. Reese just hoped she didn't have to deal with getting hit on while she labored to keep a twenty-minute mile.

  Well, no fear there. Almost half an hour went by, and not one single man approached her. And the Goldwood Fitness Center was definitely crawling with men. Young men. Preying men. Ally had stopped over once to say hi, and a trainer named Donny had come up to her to chat. She'd introduced him to Reese, whom he'd given the most perfunctory glance since Lane's boyfriend, Tom. What was wrong with her? It wasn't like Reese was interested in any of the guys at the gym, either, but still... it would've been nice if somebody attempted to talk to her.