by Dawn Atkins
“I want your body, not your money.” He took her bottom in both hands and squeezed until she moved against him, sloshing water over the side of the tub with a splash. “I think we just ruined the leftovers,” he murmured.
“Who cares? Sopaipillas and honey are in the kitchen.” She slid her legs between his and reached for him.
“Sounds delicious.” Like the hot, wet woman lying on top of him.
Best of all, he now had a legitimate reason to spend more time with her. Time he didn’t have and work he couldn’t afford. But he was happier than he remembered being in years.
SETH HEADED to his uncle’s office as requested and found him on the phone. “I’ll fix this…don’t you worry…absolutely…no problem.” Seth should take the guy fishing. He looked harried and sweaty, appeasing some cranky advertiser, no doubt.
Then Seth noticed the book in the middle of his desk. Buffaloed by Bugs by Ana Ferris. Probably why Harry had called Seth in here. Harry must have read the acknowledgement page where she’d thanked Seth for his help, along with the team. That burned. He’d practically mentored the woman and she’d thanked him like one of the little people. Harry had no way to know it would be salt in the wound.
His uncle hung up the phone, then surprised him with a glare instead of a smile. “What the hell did you do, Seth? That was Jane Falls. Practically apoplectic.”
“I was doing my job, Harry.”
“By being—how did she put it?—‘at best disinterested, at worst hostile.’”
“I wasn’t hostile,” Seth mumbled, though he knew his questions had alarmed her.
“This is a profile, not an exposé. A sweet little feature about a unique dating service.”
“I just asked some questions. Followed up some leads. Practiced good journalism.”
“Don’t get arrogant on me, Seth. You’re my sister’s son and I want to help you, but you’ve got a chip on your shoulder the size of a Tuscan tile.” Seth had taken the job as a favor to Harry, not the other way around, but there was brusque affection behind the words, so he saw no reason to point that out.
“Go to her damned skate party,” Harry said wearily. “Take notes on whatever the hell she tells you. Make her happy. And write a nice little piece.”
“Okay, okay,” Seth said. He had no energy for a fight.
“Thanks for taking my stepsons fishing,” Harry mumbled, clearly making nice after the abuse. “Those two never string more than two lines together at dinner and they were giving a regular harangue about the importance of journalism.”
“They’re smart kids.” Their enthusiasm for his chosen career had reminded Seth of his old fire. They’d been good for him, too. “Just figuring out what they want to be.”
“I wish they’d hurry the hell up, while they’re on my dime—college is pricey.” Harry’s mouth lifted in a grumpy grin. Then he shot a look at Seth.
“If revenues pick up, I’ll hire a feature writer and you can do the analysis we talked about.” His gaze fell on the book in the middle of his desk. “Oh, and this came in for review. I saw you were mentioned. Want it?” He tilted it at him.
“I have my own copy, thanks.” Ana had sent it with a gushy note, as if nothing terrible had passed between them.
“Figure out what’s bugging you,” Harry said, waving Ana’s book at him, “and don’t take it out on Jane Falls.” He tossed the book onto a stack of volumes on his credenza, photo up.
“Right.” Looking at Ana’s picture just now, Seth saw clear as day what was eating at him. Not the stolen book sale, not her undeserved fame. It was losing her.
He’d been such a wimp about it—schmuck of the century. The minute he fell head over heels, she’d lost interest. The heat of new sex had cooled, the thrill of working together faded, and Ana just plain didn’t like his personality. You’re too gloomy. Too cynical.
He thought of himself as pragmatic and realistic. Like Ana, for that matter, who was a pretty brutal critic herself. The opposite of Jane Falls, who skipped through life looking on the bright side so hard she’d miss the cliff for the glare.
Of course, Janie wasn’t all airy-fairy goodness. She was like an aged scotch—smooth, but with a kick that hit you in the back of the head after you thought you were out of range.
She’d tried to get him bumped from the story, too. That took brass balls. Guts, anyway. And now his uncle was making him go to her goofball skating party tonight and make nice. What a pain in the ass.
He grinned all the way home.
8
THAT EVENING, Seth braced himself on the rental counter and checked out the Skate World rink action. Couples only, judging by the sappy music. Tattered squares of light from the beat-up disco ball spun everywhere for a dizzying effect, flashing over the rink, the people on wheels and the low barrier that protected the audience from rogue skaters.
Accomplished pairs did spins or skated backward around the inner circle, while the fringes were packed with newbie couples, flopping up and down, grabbing each other for balance. Many sported Day-Glo pink name tags with the Personal Touch logo. Lord. They had to wear name badges? Announce their desperation to the world?
He felt like an uneasy voyeur. If his friends at the Trib could see him now… Every reporter got lame assignments, just not usually after a Pulitzer. He’d be back on track soon enough, though, when something else came through for him.
He wasn’t taking out his frustration on Jane Falls, no matter what his uncle said. He didn’t regret checking with Cole Sullivan. The man had been cagey, praising a service he supposedly hadn’t used yet. A dating scam would be exactly the kind of consumer fraud piece TV 7 wanted for Eye Out For You. For now it was a puff piece for his uncle.
“Seth! Hi!”
The sharp call made him look up. Jane Falls wobbled straight across the rink, forcing annoyed skaters to zigzag to keep from hitting her. She was several feet away from the edge of the rink when she teetered violently, about to fall.
He dashed out to catch her and one of her wildly flailing arms whapped him in the face.
“Sorry, sorry,” she said, holding herself up by grabbing his arm, then rubbing his cheek to make it better. So much for knight-at-the-roller-rink. Her fingers felt fine on his face. Skaters rolled by on either side. He was hyperaware of how near she was and how pretty she was and how great she smelled.
“You thought you had to save me again?” She smiled.
He shrugged and felt himself blush—blush, for God’s sake.
A pilot light of interest hissed to life in her lilac eyes.
Leave it alone, he told himself.
A skater barreled toward them. “Let’s get you out of range,” he said, taking her arm and guiding her to the Astroturf edge of the rink. He couldn’t help noticing the way her stretchy top squeezed her breasts upward and bared her stomach. Her pants were tight, too, and low on her hips. He’d been better off with that fluffy dress that left the details of her shape to his imagination.
At the barrier, he released her.
“Harold explained that I’d misunderstood your purpose in calling Cole Sullivan,” she said, locking gazes. “You only wanted unsolicited testimonials. Correct?” The woman was no fool. She was offering him a get-out-of-the-dog-house-free card. Very smart.
An odd heat swelled between his shoulder blades, like a space heater throbbing to life on a cold winter morning. “Cole Sullivan thinks you’re great.”
“Of course he does. I am great. And I’m happy you came tonight.” Her big eyes just lit up. “We have time to skate before we gather at our tables to network.” She motioned at the rental counter. “I’ll wait for you.”
“You want me to skate? I don’t think so.”
“It’s easier than it looks. Come on.”
“I know, but—” Go to her damn skating party. He started to object, but her eyes took on that icy bite and before he knew it he’d donned a pair of size elevens. He was vouchering this to Inside Phoenix, that was for damn sure.
Skates on, he stood, feeling like a jerk.
Then Jane squatted and began messing with his laces, making it worse. “If they dangle, you’ll trip,” she explained, glancing up at him, then back down. He felt better when he noticed he could see the top of her panties, which said Saturday in whimsical script.
She stood and smiled at him. “Much better.”
“Except today is Thursday.”
“And…?” She looked puzzled.
“Your panties say Saturday.” He winked.
She went pink, then winked right back at him. “At Personal Touch, every day is Saturday.”
He could almost like the woman.
“Now don’t be nervous,” she said, linking arms with him as if he were a lost child looking for his mom. “I won’t let you fall.”
It tickled him that someone as shaky on skates as she was thought she was going to help him. Plus, he liked her body tight against his, so he let her lead him onto the killing rink, determined to have some fun with her.
Janie fought to focus on helping Seth skate instead of melting at how wonderful he felt beside her, his arm linked with hers, their sides touching. So what if he’d seen her underwear? Again. So what if attraction rumbled between them like an idling motorcycle engine? Again.
She would not flub this second chance. She’d hoped that Harold Rheingold would send a new reporter, but Seth didn’t seem to hold a grudge about her tattling on him. No matter what, he would leave Skate World with a positive impression, Saturday underwear be damned.
She stopped at the rink entrance, her lungs tight. Skating was a fun first-date activity, but she was a terrible skater. Her tailbone already ached from several smack-downs. No matter. She had to help him. She unlinked arms and grabbed Seth’s big, warm hand and shot him an encouraging smile. “Hang on tight. We’ll go slow at first and when you get your balance, try it on your own.”
“I’ll manage somehow.” He winked, then squeezed her fingers as if to comfort her. Hiding his anxiety under macho. The male ego could be so fragile.
The instant they rolled onto the rink, Janie saw she was in trouble. She needed both arms free for balance and one hand was glued to Seth’s. She wobbled wildly, tensed to hit the concrete, muscles clenched, eyes squinted.
Except Seth tugged her tight against his body and pushed off fast.
She squealed. “Not so…fast!” Falling at high speed would hurt like hell. Except they weren’t falling. They were gliding smoothly forward. Seth was in complete control. She’d been had.
“Why didn’t you tell me you knew how to skate?”
“Because you were so cute helping me.” He grinned at her, the all-knowing bad boy at his best. He cuddled her close. “Here’s the drill. Lean forward and use a long, smooth stride. Trying to stand straight keeps you off balance. You’re like a bear on a ball.”
“Like a bear? Couldn’t I be something thin and graceful? Like a ballerina?”
“Just lean forward and you can be anything you want.”
She did and found herself rolling forward more easily. She glanced up to catch him smiling down at her.
“There you go. You’re a gazelle.”
She was unnervingly close to him, tucked against his body, his arm securely across her back, his cheek stubble tickling her temple. It felt good. Too good. She could like this guy.
She just didn’t dare.
They made a breezy run around the rink and then another and another, her confidence in her skills growing with each circle. She forgot for a few moments that Seth was doing an all-important story on her and she had to impress him with her professionalism and integrity and just had fun, one half of a skating couple spinning in lovely circles together, the breeze fresh in her face, Seth’s powerful strides guiding her smaller ones, the two of them a team. And Seth looked down at her with a grin. “You’re doing great, Jane,” he said.
She was foolishly thrilled by his praise. “This is fun.”
“Yeah. It is. I haven’t done this in years.” He looked almost cheerful, more carefree than she’d seen him during their interview. Maybe he wasn’t so gloomy, after all. Maybe he just needed someone to cheer him up a little.
She hadn’t felt easy in her skin with a man in a long time. Maybe never, now that she thought about it. Her stomach usually jumped, her muscles tensed for trouble and her breathing, often a problem, got shallow and uncertain. That made it exciting, of course, and the sex hot. But just now, spinning on wheels in Seth’s arms, she felt free and her breath came easy, air swelling each little lung sac until she thought her ribs might crack. She felt like laughing. She felt happy.
Probably because she risked nothing with Seth. They would know each other for a few more hours then go their separate ways, hopefully after a positive story appeared in his magazine.
What if there was more?
That was no way to think at all.
She caught sight of the clock on the wall and realized they were late for the party. Her guests were all at the designated tables waiting for her. “We’d better head over for the icebreaker,” she said to him, nodding at the group.
“Icebreaker? I thought the point was to not break anything. Least of all ice.”
“An icebreaker is a game. A way to meet people.”
“Oh, yeah. I did one of those at a baby shower for a reporter at my paper once.”
“You were at a baby shower? That couldn’t be good.”
“It didn’t last long, believe me. After I started reading National Enquirer stories about alien babies and bizarre births, they booted me out. Didn’t even get any cake.”
“You are bad.”
“Thank you.”
“I hope you’ll behave yourself with my guests. Please don’t ask if they’re gold diggers or sexual predators, okay?” She pretended to be joking, but she was a little worried. She’d informed the group he was coming and told them to be honest about their experiences, but to feel free not to comment on any personal questions he might ask.
“I’ll be good.” He crossed his heart with his free hand. “I always am when it counts.” His sincerity struck her like the shock of static from a carpet.
“I’ll bet you are,” she breathed, rubbery with abrupt lust, which made it hard to stay upright on wheels.
“Mmm,” he said, fighting the urge to continue the flirtation, she could tell. He looked at her in a way that made her feel as though she couldn’t keep a secret from him if she tried. He seemed to want to take her all in, learn everything about her and then some. It was…unnerving and in her unsettled state, she stumbled over the edge of the Astroturf.
Seth caught her arm, squeezing it with masculine sureness. “Got you.”
Oh, he could get her, all right. In another place, another time, another life. She smiled uncertainly, then turned her attention to her guests. “Everyone, this is Seth Taylor. Seth, this is everyone.”
The networking hour went smoothly. The rhythm was right and people were cheerful, chatty and lively. The five prospective clients who were checking out her service through the free party even signed contracts. The formal activities over, the couples headed out for more skating and Janie lowered her bruised bottom onto a bench for a relieved rest.
Until Seth approached, which sent her heart into double-time. She realized with dismay that it had nothing to do with the story and everything to do with the man.
“Got lots of great quotes,” he said, waving his notepad as he sat beside her. He’d surprised her by effortlessly easing into talking with her clients as they shared pizza and beer. She’d picked up snatches of conversations laced with generous praise for Personal Touch. Hooray and thank goodness.
“I’m glad.”
He smiled at her and she glanced away, unnerved by the familiarity she felt when he was near. She felt him slowly shift his gaze away from her to the rink. They watched in silence for a moment.
“Looks like you scored with those two.” He nodded at a seated couple laughing a few fe
et away.
She shook her head. “Nope. They’re Transitioners. This is his first date after a divorce and she just got dumped from a long-term relationship. They’ll keep each other company until the hurt wears off, but that’s about it.”
“Really? You’re sure?”
“Now those two are in good shape.” She pointed at two of her clients bobbing and jerking awkwardly past them on skates.
“They look miserable.”
“No, no. On those two that’s ecstasy. She’s a research librarian and he teaches history at ASU. They were too shy to meet one-on-one, so I invited them here to provide a distraction.” The couple burst out laughing and hugged each other for balance, proving her point.
“Very smart,” Seth said, nodding at her.
“You sound surprised.”
“I’m not. I just didn’t think…”
“That I knew what I was doing?”
“Not that.” Pretty close, though, she could tell. He held her gaze. “Maybe I didn’t give you the consideration you deserved.”
Electricity crackled again. The personal and the professional kept getting mixed up with him. Her heart jumped and seemed to fight her lungs for space in her chest. Stop this, right now, she told herself. Get back to the story. Which was all that mattered here.
“Thank you, then. And thanks for coming.” She tore her gaze back to the rink and swallowed.
“You must love it when a match works.”
“It’s thrilling, really. The ultimate joy is attending a wedding.”
“That happen a lot?” He was taking notes now, which helped settle her down.
“Several times so far. One couple promised to name their baby after me. A little girl, who’s due in February. I introduced them to each other at a Valentine’s Day mixer.”
The memory gave her a jolt of pleasure. Her recent worries had made her forget the joys of her mission. She turned to Seth, wanting him to understand. “That’s why I do this. To help people find their happiness in each other. It means everything to me.” She realized she’d sounded too sentimental. “I tend to get carried away.”
