Simply Sex

by Dawn Atkins

  “Me settle down? No thanks. I need my edge. Look at Trisha. She’d be nose-to-nose with us for partner, except she’s mommy track. She’s got a uterus, so she’s kicked to the curb. Sad.”

  “She’s happy. She only stays late three nights a week.” He and Trisha had met to go over what he’d done for her in her absence and he’d probed her approach more carefully—curious and a little envious of her determination to keep balance in her life.

  “Yeah, and the partners bitch about it.”

  “She cranks out the billables, working through lunch, never stops to bullshit. She gets more out of sixty hours than lots of us get from eighty.”

  “But perception is everything.” Trevor shrugged. “I guess she makes her life work for her. We all do. You make your choices and take your chances. Hey, that’s damned philosophical.” He lifted his beer to clink against Cole’s.

  He liked the guy, Cole realized, now that he wasn’t looking at him only as a bump on the road to becoming partner. Maybe when he hung out his shingle he’d talk to Trevor, too. Trevor was thorough, for all his playful ways, and dogged.

  If he hung out a shingle, he reminded himself. Odd how he was thinking more about that way lately. Wanting to carve out his own spot on his own terms, not get pushed around by someone else’s idea of what mattered.

  “As long as I have to work for it, I’m good,” Trevor continued. “Which is where you come in, my friend. You’re making it too easy on me.”

  “Don’t worry. I blew it with the woman, so I’ll be living through my work again.” At least until he was ready to move on.

  “Glad to hear it.”

  He wasn’t giving up on making partner, but he didn’t regret the ground he’d lost at BL&T by leaving early to be with Kylie, letting Trevor take the lead on the Littlefield case. Kylie had enriched his life. Without her now, the hollow sound was back. And it would get bigger and louder once Radar and his opinions went home in two days.

  Did he still want a wife? He wanted Kylie. Period. Though that was impossible. She either didn’t love him, or she didn’t love him enough, or she was afraid to love him, and that made him feel like shit.

  This love stuff was hard enough to figure out without having to drag someone into it, kicking and screaming. She didn’t want what he wanted. And he was just now figuring out what that was.

  He’d want a wife eventually, right? And he’d be ready this time, because he’d have his life in balance. Maybe he’d get a Cairn terrier of his own. Maybe he’d learn to cook. Mexican food. Flautas, guacamole, chile relleno…

  First, he had to stop thinking about Kylie.

  “Shall we head back?” Trevor said.

  “How about a game of pool? It’ll clear our heads.” He hadn’t played in years. He intended to take it up again. Along with photography. And bike riding. He wasn’t giving up what he’d learned with Kylie. He wanted a life. A full one with pleasure and fun. No more would he mete out the pleasures in guilty increments watching Comedy Central.

  He hoped Kylie had learned that lesson, too.

  They were heading for the pool table when his gaze snagged on the television over the bar, which was showing a teaser for the 10:00 p.m. news. He was shocked to recognize a frightened, pale Janie Falls trying to block the camera. “Your Eye Out For You team follows the story of a dating service under fire,” the voice-over said. Then a shadowed woman spoke in a disguised voice. “She sent a woman to pretend to be me who slept with my supposedly perfect match.” Deborah. No question. Deborah had called a television station? She’d blamed Janie, he knew, but he never imagined she’d go this far.

  “What are the warning signs that your dating service is ripping you off?” the voice-over continued. “We’ll tell you that and more in our Eye Out For You report tonight at ten.”

  Damn, damn, damn. This was his fault. He grabbed his phone and dialed Kylie’s number.

  “Hello?” Just hearing her voice sent a charge through him.

  “It’s Cole.”

  “Cole?” She sighed with soft longing and he had this flicker of hope that she would come around, want to work things out.

  “I just saw a news thing about Personal Touch and—”

  “I know. We get our rebuttal tomorrow. The magazine reporter—the one who called you?—convinced them to do a follow-up.”

  “That’s good. Can I help, Kylie? They could interview me.” Lord, what was he saying? That would really fix him with the firm.

  “The reporter has agreed to do it, but thanks, anyway.”

  “I’d like to support you,” he said, trying again.

  “Please don’t,” she said shakily. “I’m fine. Really. And we’re here together—Janie and Gail and me—to watch the piece and be sure we’re prepared for tomorrow.”

  “Can I apologize to Jane then?”

  “She doesn’t blame you. I’ll tell her, though. And I appreciate your call. Really.”

  I don’t need you. I don’t want you.

  He got the message loud and clear, but still he said, “If you change your mind…”

  “I won’t,” she almost snapped at him. “I need time, Cole. Time to remember who I am.”

  “I know who you are.”

  “I know. But…”

  “But it’s not enough. Yeah. I got that.” And it hurt like hell. So what else could he do but say goodbye?

  SETH PULLED INTO the Personal Touch parking lot, his palms sweaty, his gut knotted. He’d scored another interview for Janie—burning the bridge to a Channel 7 job in the process, but he didn’t give a damn. Besides, the shabby bunch of half truths and unsubstantiated rumors they’d aired was worse journalism than his puff piece on Personal Touch. At least his tripe was true.

  He’d fix the Eye Out For You piece in person. On camera. He gulped, feeling sweat pour from his body. He’d basically be making a commercial for a dating service. Way out of his realm, but he’d do his level best. He’d bought a dress shirt and gotten a haircut so he’d look respectable.

  He climbed off his bike, scratched under his collar where bits of cut hair itched like hell, then grabbed the bunch of yellow roses he’d strapped to his seat. Yellow for apology, the florist said. He headed for the door, holding the flowers out like a shield. Hokey, but hell.

  The TV truck wasn’t here yet, he was glad to see. Kylie, who’d prepped him over the phone, had asked him to come a little early to touch base. Besides, he wanted to talk to Janie. He hoped his story had convinced her to forgive him, but he had his doubts, since she’d ducked all his calls.

  This snafu had made him realize a few things, like the fact that his uncle was right. He’d been living off old glories, at least in his mind, and acting superior to the job he’d agreed to do. So it wasn’t investigative work or even news analysis. It was worthy of his best efforts. And he had to stop living in limbo. This was his life, not a way station until something bigger showed up.

  He had to start fresh in his heart, not just on paper.

  And his fresh start had everything to do with Janie Falls.

  Inside Personal Touch, he confirmed a few details with Kylie, then veered off to Janie’s office, taking in the faint smell of her perfume mixed with roses.

  No Janie, but he took a slow turn in the utter pinkness of the room. It was so her, though she was more than rosy dreams. She was a butterfly with a steel spine and a snappy gaze. She was romantic and pragmatic and stubborn as hell. A mix that could keep him interested for a long time. Unlike Ana, who’d been too much like him to kick him out of his natural gloom. When he was with Janie, he’d felt lifted up…open…fresh as the roses shaking in his hands. And he wanted more of that. A lifetime of it maybe.

  “Seth?”

  He turned and found Janie standing there. She looked so different. She wore a body-hugging suit, not a loose, fairy outfit and her wavy hair was pulled back and tight. She looked so serious. And pale and nervous. Her smile was polite and there was no light in her eyes for him.

  “Th
ese are for you,” he said, handing her the flowers.

  She took them. “I still have the others.” He looked with her at the window table, where the red flowers seemed to droop. Was it a good sign she hadn’t tossed them?

  “These are to say I’m sorry.”

  Hurt sprang into her eyes, but she blinked it away and smiled. “I know you’re sorry. And you’ve intervened for us, so thank you. Being interviewed is probably the last thing you want to do.”

  “I’m the best one to set them straight. Did you read my story?” That would tell her what she needed to know about what he believed about her.

  “No.” Her gaze slid toward her wastebasket. She’d tossed it? “But Kylie and Gail told me it was positive. Thank you.” She clearly hadn’t forgiven him.

  “It’s not the kind of story I usually write, but it had to be done.” That made it sound like a grim task. He didn’t really know what to say. Forgive me. Don’t shut me out. Then he noticed the tree he’d brought for the burned rug. “The tree’s sure grown.” He was an idiot.

  “It’s only been a week, Seth.” A smile lit her face for an instant, making him want to make her smile again and again. For years.

  “Everything grows fast around you.” Good God, who feeds you? “Listen, Janie, I’ve been doing some thinking about us—”

  She held up her hand. “Please don’t. I have the most important interview of my life coming up. I can’t think about anything else.”

  “I understand. Sure. We’ll talk later.”

  “We’ve said everything there is to say, Seth.”

  “We’ll see.” He wouldn’t push, but he wouldn’t quit. He’d talk and talk and talk until he got through to her. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with his life from here on out, but he knew he wanted Janie in it.

  JANIE WAS ALMOST relieved when the TV crew arrived. Seth looked so good to her she wanted to run into his arms. He wanted to talk about them. But they were all wrong for each other. Love could alter your perceptions, but it didn’t change who you were. She would have to explain it to Seth.

  But first she had to save Personal Touch. The cameraman was setting up the lights. She felt as if she was waiting for the dentist to give her the injection, jumpy, breathless, her heart in her throat.

  She looked at Seth, who smiled bravely at her, trying to encourage her, though he was plainly nervous himself. He kept clearing his throat and fidgeting and he sat on the very edge of his chair. His hair was newly cut and his shirt had fresh-from-the-package creases in it. And he was going to defend a dating service on television. Very against his nature. He was doing this because he cared for her.

  How could she believe anything she wanted this much?

  The cameraman gave her the mic cord to slide down her blouse, so she did that, her fingers trembling, her heart pounding so loud she was sure the man could feel it against his fingers as he clipped the device to her collar. She was so sweaty she felt as if she’d walked through a car wash.

  “You’ll be fine,” he said, stepping back.

  “She’ll be great,” Seth said, sounding annoyed the guy thought she needed reassurance.

  She smiled at him. He could be so sweet.

  “All set?” The reporter—a different one from the day before—smiled his fake smile at her.

  Stay relaxed, speak warmly, be honest. That’s what Kylie had advised her. Stay relaxed? With a light so bright it hurt her eyes shining down on her, a huge camera lens zeroing in on her every flaw, a smarmy reporter primed to trip her up? But she would do it. She had to. For Personal Touch. For herself. She took a deep breath from her diaphragm, sat up straight, smiled and said, “Ready when you are.”

  The interview went like lightning and her practice paid off. One by one, she neutralized the loaded questions and delivered her message: The Personal Touch system works and no one tries harder to find love matches than Jane Falls. By the end, the reporter seemed almost annoyed. She hoped it was because she hadn’t given him anything to exploit. Kylie shot her a secret thumbs-up.

  “That’s it, I guess,” the reporter said. “Who’s next?”

  Seth, of course, who wiped his forehead with his sleeve. They shifted the lights, arranged his chair and set him up with the mic. As she waited, Janie’s gaze fell to the trash where she’d tossed his magazine story. What had he written exactly? She scooted her chair to the edge of her desk, found the folded pages and began to read.

  The heart and soul of Personal Touch is owner Janie Falls, who tempers her starry-eyed romance with a steel-spined practicality…. That was nice. She kept reading. Seth wrote about her inventory and screening process and people skills, even the skating party, listing her descriptions of the couples and predictions about their futures. He even described her reaction to the Jensens naming their little girl after her. He called her a marvel.

  She read further. Of course, a service this ambitious experiences setbacks—a disgruntled client who wants women all wrong for him, and a client base slow to build because of its careful screening requirements.

  She looked up from the page as the interview started. Seth explained to the reporter how each of his suspicions about her business practices had been wrong. He even made a joke about Gail either making sex callers into clients or sending them to therapy.

  Then he turned to the reporter and spoke dead-on. “Sure, there are scams and overpriced services and even hookers masquerading as dates, but Personal Touch is for real. Janie Falls, too.” He glanced at her, then stared back at the reporter. “She should be granted sainthood, not maligned by reporters too cynical to believe in love…myself included.”

  “Okay. I get it,” the reporter said with a frustrated sigh. “That’s it.” He made a cut gesture at the cameraman and practically rolled his eyes. That sound bite, delicious as it was, would never make airtime, but she didn’t care.

  Seth believed in her. And he wanted to be with her. Was that enough?

  Sure, his face was warm and open, not skeptical and gloomy, but she could be under a spell, deluding herself again. Like always.

  She was so troubled she was almost relieved when the TV crew stayed around, keeping her from her moment of truth with Seth. The camera guy had a newly divorced sister and needed an info packet. The reporter took her aside to inquire how many women “of his caliber” belonged to Personal Touch, and he, too, took a packet. In the lobby, she heard Gail handing out flyers for upcoming socials to post at the television station.

  But finally she was alone with Seth in her office. “Thank you for what you did,” she said, her heart so full it hurt.

  “I meant every word. And more.” He took a step closer. “Janie…I was so wrong.”

  “I don’t know what to say, Seth. We’re a terrible match. I, um, did an inventory on us.”

  “You did?” He blinked at her.

  She nodded miserably. “And it’s a mess. I had to cheat like crazy to get us even on speaking terms, let alone in a relationship.”

  “But you only guessed at my answers. Maybe it’s not as bad as you think. Show me what you’ve got.”

  “I don’t know….” But her heart rose with new hope, and she led him to the video library and pulled their profiles out of the file cabinet where she’d stuffed them in despair.

  She handed Seth the printout she’d filled in by hand, and he sat at the table to study the pages, his brow furrowed.

  “Here’s your problem. I can be more positive than that.” He grabbed a pencil out of the holder, erased a mark, and bubbled in something higher.

  “Seth, that’s not you. That’s Mr. Sunshine.”

  “Or me when I’m around you.” He looked up at her, absolutely sincere. Was she seeing things? He bent his head and read through the next section. “Conformity is not my thing, true, but I’d consider some traditional options. A ranch house and an SUV, say, if it mattered a lot to you.” He glanced up at her, more convincing than ever, then down again.

  She noticed the fresh red prickles on th
e back of his neck from where the barber had shaved him. A plastic price-tag holder stuck up from the collar of the brand-new shirt he’d bought to wear while he humiliated himself on television to help her. She felt such a rush of tenderness she wanted to cry. “You don’t have to do this,” she said, covering his hand to stop the pencil.

  “I want you to believe in us,” he said, giving her a shot of his blue eyes. There was no shard of cynicism in their depths, just fire and commitment and…love. “I guess I lost faith in myself, but you brought it back. Sounds hokey, but…”

  “Seth…I—I’m just not sure….”

  “I thought you might say that. So I brought proof.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a VHS tape, which he slid into the VCR across the table. He pressed play and there he was on the monitor, saying how hard he was to get along with, his grin belying his words.

  “You took the tape,” she said.

  “I had to. Too incriminating.” His smile was teasing.

  She watched as he explained that his favorite view would be her face. Again she saw how he seemed to stare right into her soul. The picture wobbled, then went slightly out of focus. Then she saw her back as she stumbled into Seth’s arms. And there it was—the kiss. They held each other tight, Seth’s fingers digging into her back as though he never wanted to let go. He pulled away to look into her eyes, then dug in for more of her mouth. It was impressive, but it could still just be lust and adrenaline.

  Seth pushed pause, freezing them in each other’s arms. “See what I mean?”

  She saw…and she didn’t see. The answer wasn’t in the fuzzy video really. Or in the mismatched inventory. She looked down at it and saw the answer—in the shreds of eraser, the twice-rewritten numbers—their frantic efforts to prove that what they felt in their hearts was enough. She looked up to Seth’s face. More answers…in the fiery determination in his eyes, in the stubborn set of his jaw, in the hope that softened the hard planes of his face.