by Holly Jacobs
“Hey, it’s not every day you get to celebrate a friend’s happiness.” He poured a glass for each of the four of them. “To Samantha and Harry. May you have a lifetime of happy years together.”
They all toasted, and he added, “Thank you, ladies, for allowing me to crash your celebration.”
“I’m afraid we’re the ones crashing your date,” Michelle admitted. She was by far the quietest of the three friends. “So, you’re the one owed a thanks.”
“Not every man could handle a night on the town with three women,” Samantha said.
“Especially three women discussing wedding plans. I bet you wish you were anywhere but here.” Carly gave him a look that said she wished she were any place but at a table talking about weddings. Weddings that she’d made abundantly clear she no longer believed in.
And that was the worst of it.
Chuck had no desire to pursue a wedding…but a woman like Carly should be part of a long-term partnership. The fact her ex had ruined her for that made him want to…
He was a cop, he couldn’t even indulge thinking about what he’d like to do to Carly’s ex. Still, even if neither of them was overly marriage-enthused, he, at least could go along with it for her friends’ sakes. “Ladies, no man in his right mind wouldn’t love to be where I am. A glass of champagne in my hand, and three lovely women for companionship. The guys at the station are going to be eating their hearts out when I tell them how I spent my weekend.”
“Speaking of spending the weekend, I think the band’s setting up now,” Carly said.
The band, Landshark 4, got settled and started playing a bunch of Jimmy Buffet covers.
“What do you think?” Carly practically shouted to be heard over the music.
The other women nodded. “Maybe we could ask them to turn down the volume just a bit at the dance?” Michelle hollered back.
They all nodded their agreement as the song ended.
Chuck recognized the opening notes of “Son of a Son of a Sailor.” “Speaking of dancing…” He stood and held out a hand. “Want to?”
Okay, so it wasn’t the most eloquent invitation, but Carly’s look of surprise seemed a bit much. “You do dance?” he asked.
“I didn’t think you did,” she admitted as he led her to the small square of open space that was already crowded with dancers.
“Now, why would you think I don’t dance?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t seem very macho. I mean, when I think cops, I think guns drawn, kicking in the door and taking down the…perps?”
He laughed. “Call me a renaissance man because I can draw a weapon, and lead a pretty woman around on the dance floor.”
They stopped talking and Chuck just held her. Despite her crazy high heels, she moved smoothly on the dance floor, picking up and following his rhythm. He liked the way she felt against him. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder, so she snuggled a cheek into his chest.
“So, is this our song?” Chuck asked, joking.
Carly must not have noticed the humor in his question because he could feel her body get all tense.
“Chuck, we won’t be together long enough to have a song, remember?”
He should probably kick himself for asking something like that. It broke all his keep-things-light rules. Instead of backtracking, he said, “Whether we’re together or not, we can have a song. Tell you what, every time I hear Jimmy Buffet, I’ll think of you.”
“Oh, so we won’t have a song, we’ll have the whole singer?” Her tone was light, but her body was still rigid in his arms.
“Hey, I like you…what can I say? Some women might only warrant a song, but you, Carly, you deserve a prolific singer.”
She didn’t just relax, she sort of melted into him. “I think that’s one of the nicest things anyone’s said to me in years.” She paused and added, “And I guarantee that I will think about you, about this, every time I hear Buffet. I’m no Parrot-head, but I have a number of his CDs and go to the tribute concert each year on the bayfront.”
They didn’t talk any more after that…they didn’t need to. Even when the band switched to a faster song, they continued dancing, swaying to a beat it felt as if only they were following.
Chapter Seven
Carly counted. They’d been dancing for four songs.
She glanced over at the table. Michelle and Samantha were watching them with a particular gleam in their eyes that made her nervous. “Chuck, we should probably get back to my friends.”
“You’re right. But afterward, when I take you home…” He didn’t finish the sentence.
Carly didn’t need him to.
For the first time in years, she knew what she wanted.
Not what she should want.
Not what someone else wanted her to want.
Simply what she wanted.
And what she wanted was Chuck. “Yes, afterward.”
The rest of the evening was a blur. She knew she conversed with Samantha and Michelle, but, if asked, she wouldn’t have been able to pinpoint one single topic of that discussion. All she could think about was Chuck, about what she’d practically promised was going to happen when they went home.
And she did want him, but—
It was that darned but that was getting in the way. She wanted to be carefree and go-with-the-flow. She wanted to be the kind of woman who could enter into a casual relationship with a man. That’s what she wanted.
But.
But, in actuality, she’d never been in a casual relationship. Before Dean, she’d had boyfriends, but she’d been so young, she’d fallen head over heels for each, thinking the high-school love would last forever. Dean was her first serious college boyfriend and that had lasted right up to the moment she’d signed the divorce papers.
With Chuck there was no talk of ever-afters. No telling herself that she’d be intimate with him because she loved him. And to be honest, she wasn’t sure how to do that—how to have a physical relationship that involved a whole lot of like, but no talk of love.
When the band finished their set, she went to talk to them, telling them they had the dance if they wanted it.
Then she went back to the table, and they said good-night to Samantha and Michelle. “Congrats again,” she told Samantha as she hugged her friend.
“Have fun tonight,” Samantha whispered. “You two were practically burning up that dance floor.”
That comment made her nervous as well.
“You’re quiet,” Chuck said as they drove to her house.
“Sorry. Just thinking.”
“I could play dumb and ask about what, but I won’t. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
Chuck was sweet. He probably would hate to hear that description as much as she suspected he’d hate to hear about his cuteness, but there it was. Lieutenant Chuck Jefferson was sweet and cute.
And that innate sweetness was why she knew he meant what he said. And it was the reason she wanted to do what was making her nervous. “Oh, I do want to. I just don’t know how to.”
“You have two kids,” he pointed out, “so I assume you know how to.”
Carly was glad it was late. It was somehow easier having this conversation while he was driving in the dark and couldn’t see her. “But I was with someone I thought I loved, someone I thought loved me. With you, there’s only physical need. And I don’t want to minimize that need, because it’s big and getting bigger by the minute. It’s that I don’t know how to do that.”
“I can show you…if you want. But only if you want. I’m not into meaningless sex. I don’t want to make it sound that way. There has to be a connection between us, or it doesn’t work. I just don’t try to pretty it up and call it love. I think we have that connection, Carly. And you have to feel it, too.”
Carly knew offering her an out wasn’t simply a way for him to call it off. She might have been removed from the dating game for a while, but she could tell he genuinely wanted her. No
, this was Chuck being a nice guy and giving her an opportunity to change her mind. He didn’t love her, but he cared enough not to force her into something she might regret. He was right, there was a connection here.
That thought warmed her and helped solidify in her mind what she wanted. “Chuck, I may not know how to have a relationship with a man who has no emotional ties with me, but I’d very much like to…with you.”
“Phew. Being a nice guy was killing me.”
“We wouldn’t want that.” She put her hand on his thigh. Nothing more. She didn’t move it to any more risqué locations. His thigh was enough to make her feel brazen. She noticed he sped up a bit; moments later they pulled up in her drive and hurried into the house, laughing like two kids.
Purposefully, she locked the door and was slipping the chain in place as Chuck came up behind her and nuzzled on her neck. “You’re sure the kids aren’t coming home?”
The door locked, she turned around into Chuck’s embrace. “As sure as I can be.”
“Well then—” He pulled her close and kissed her.
Carly could feel his very real desire. She’d heard the word hungry used, and it fit here. He was hungry for her, which was good since she felt the same. It was almost a pressure, building, pulling her closer. She knew if they could just get close enough, that pressure would ease.
She pulled off her coat, hat and scarf, again without breaking off their kiss and dropped them to the floor. Chuck followed suit.
Reminiscent of their last aborted attempt.
“I think, last time, we made it as far as my room. Maybe this time we could make it to the bed?”
He released her, took her hand and immediately started up the stairs. “You don’t have to ask me twice.”
She laughed as she ran behind him.
“Right one?” he asked, opening the door and pulling her inside.
Carly ran for the bed, jumped in the center and toed off her boots. “Hurry, on the bed. We’ll officially have gone farther than last time.”
Chuck jumped next to her, they bounced and both laughed.
Fun.
Being with Chuck was fun. Easy. Maybe that’s what coming into something casual meant…it could just be fun and easy.
As they stopped playing and started kissing again, an overwhelming feeling of rightness came over Carly.
“Carly, I—” His cell phone rang, interrupting whatever he was going to say. “Sorry, let me check.”
He fished the phone out of his pocket. “I have to take this.”
He stepped out into the hall. She could hear his murmured responses to whoever had called.
She felt awkward. At least when her kids had interrupted she’d had something to do. Now she had to sit in the middle of her bed with her clothing askew, trying not to listen to Chuck’s conversation.
She raised her hand and ran a finger lightly over her lips. She felt aware of them. It’s not that she didn’t always know she had lips—she did. But didn’t often give them much thought. They were just there. She used them when she ate and when she talked, but really, even then she didn’t pay much attention to them.
Now, they tingled a bit, leaving her very much aware that they were there and that recently they’d been thoroughly kissed.
When Chuck re-entered the room and turned his attention to other parts of her body, would they come as alive for her?
She found she was anxious to find out.
Chuck walked into the room, but this time there was no laughter as he jumped on her bed. There wasn’t even a trace of a smile. “Carly, I so hate to do this to you—hell, to me, too. But I’ve got to go.”
“Pardon?” Her fingers dropped from her lips and she was back to sitting awkward on her bed, clothing askew.
“That was the station. There’s been a major drug bust. I’ve got to go. The Chief wants me there to deal with the press, and there’s going to be press. It’s my job.”
“Oh.” An excuse. Dean had millions of those. Carly, I have to work late. This is a big case. Carly, I’m going to dinner with the partners and some other people from the office. I’ll be home soon.
She’d never thought anything of them until she’d caught him with his secretary, and then she questioned every late night, every weekend away, everything.
And as Chuck straightened his clothing, she questioned his excuse. Not that she thought he had another woman on the side, but maybe he’d finally discovered whatever it was about her that had driven Dean away. He was kissing her, and then was saved by the bell…well, phone.
“Carly, look I’m sorry. Looks like the universe is against us. Your kids, my job. I promise we’ll figure it out. Maybe I could come back afterward and—”
“Hey, don’t worry about it. No strings, remember? I have kids, you have the department. Neither of us wants anything but short-term and casual, so there are no recriminations. Go do what you need to. I’ll probably be asleep before you’re done.”
“Can I call you tomorrow?”
“Sure. I have errands and will be in and out all day, but yes, call.”
He leaned down and kissed her again. Not a tingle-producing kiss, but rather a very perfunctory peck on the lips. “Tomorrow. I’ll call.”
“Great.”
She escorted him to the front door and willed herself not to peek out the window and watch him pull out of the drive.
Casual. Short-term. That’s all this was. He had to work. There was nothing sinister in that.
However, a small voice whispered in her ear, wondering if that was the last she’d see of Chuck Jefferson. And as she realized what she’d just thought, she got mad.
Not at Chuck for leaving.
Not at the police station or her kids for interrupting them.
At herself for being so willing to accept that there was something wrong with her.
There was nothing wrong with her.
Dean was a skunk.
Her kids needed her.
Chuck had a job. Chuck wanted her, but he had something unavoidable to do.
She could sit in her bedroom feeling sorry for herself. Or she could be proactive. She could acknowledge that she and Chuck both had priorities, and try to figure out some way around them.
CHUCK SPENT MOST OF the night kicking himself and wondering why he had ever thought becoming the voice of the police department was a good idea.
He’d wanted to head back to Carly’s after he finished up at the station, but she’d sort of made it clear that she intended to be sleeping.
“Last night was only another indication of why cops shouldn’t get involved with women. When work calls, even if it is a Friday night and you have plans, you have to go. And the woman in question gets pissed,” he said to Anderson the next morning as they sat at George’s sipping coffee and waiting for their breakfasts.
“What did you do?”
“Carly and I were—” he was gentleman enough not to say exactly what they were doing “—out last night when I got called into work. I think Carly’s mad. I don’t blame her. I left her rather high and dry.”
“Flowers. Send flowers. Women love that kind of thing.”
“It’s a bit of a cliché, don’t you think?” He tried to picture himself handing Carly a bouquet and couldn’t quite manage it. She’d probably fling the flowers right back at him. “I know she’s rather biased against anything that’s a cliché.”
“Sleeping alone in your bed is cliché, too. Guess which cliché I’d pick?”
“You have a point. I could order some—” Chuck’s phone rang. He fished in his pocket for it and muttered, “Seriously, tell me why I took this job again?”
But when he pulled it out and checked the caller ID, it wasn’t a work number, it was Carly.
“Carly,” he said by way of greeting.
Anderson raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to one side.
“Hey. Do you have a minute?” he heard her say. “I mean, if you’re busy, you can call me back.”
; “Sure, I’ve got a minute.” He held up a finger to Anderson, indicating he’d return in a momentarily, and walked toward the door, phone in hand. “About last night,” he started.
“I’m not calling about last night. I’m calling about tonight. Can you get away?”
He stepped out into a bitter January wind blowing straight up State Street.
“I’ve got another Neighborhood Watch meeting I have to attend, but I should be out of there by sevenish at the latest.”
“And after?” she pressed.
“I’m thoroughly at your disposal. What do you have in mind?” He felt warm, despite the cold, thinking about all the options he wouldn’t mind her naming.
No, not warm. Almost hot.
“A surprise.” Her laughter heated him up even more.
“I’ll pick you up around seven,” she continued.
“And is this a put-on-a-suit surprise, or a come-in-jeans surprise?” Not that he cared. He just wanted to spend time with Carly, didn’t matter the circumstances.
“It’s a pack-an-overnight-bag surprise.”
He gave her his address, then the significance of her words sank in. “Oh…Oh, how did you manage—”
“No questions now, or you’ll ruin the surprise. Pack an overnight bag, and maybe tell everyone at work you might be out of touch for a while tonight.”
“How long is a while?”
“I suppose that’s going to depend on…” She hesitated. He could almost hear her smile over the phone. “On your stamina.”
“I’ll be sure to let everyone know not to call unless it’s an absolute emergency, if that’s the case, because my stamina is legendary.”
“Hey, that’s big talk, buddy. I’m hoping you can back it up.”
“Don’t you mean keep it up?”
“Okay, okay, this conversation is getting a bit risqué. Tell me you’re alone at home?”
“Actually, I’m at George’s having breakfast with Anderson.”
“Ack. Hang up then and find a good excuse for this conversation. One that doesn’t involve me. Oh, can you imagine how he’d torture me? Tell him you were talking to a perp, a reporter…I don’t care who you tell him it is, just don’t tell him it’s me.”
