by Cathie Linz
As a result of his ogling her, Jason came in second. Obviously her motto of Anything Worth Doing Is Worth Doing Slowly didn’t apply to in-line skating.
But he consoled himself with the way she melted against him when he deliberately bumped into her as a way of stopping himself, gently sandwiching her between him and the ice-cream vendor’s cart. The same rounded derriere he’d been admiring earlier now fit snugly against his arousal.
“You lost,” she breathlessly stated.
“The race, maybe,” he whispered against her ear. “Not the war.”
“I didn’t realize this was a battle,” she said, gulping.
“I thought your radio show specializes in the battle of the sexes,” he murmured.
Leaning back against him and giving a tempting little wiggle, she flashed him a saucy look over her shoulder as she said, “Which means I’ve got plenty of ammunition in my arsenal, so you’d better watch out.”
Placing his hand on his heart, he dramatically reeled back from her before giving her a grin as sexy as hers had been. “Thanks for the warning, but I think I’ll take my chances.”
“And I’ll take a Chocolate Drumstick.” She stepped away from him to ask, “What would you like?”
“Couldn’t you tell?”
“Now that you mention it, yes, I could tell that you were…dying for something. A frozen yogurt with nuts?”
“I didn’t think freezing was good for…nuts.”
“You’d know that better than I,” she noted demurely. “I’ve heard drenching them in chocolate syrup can be good.”
“Sounds like that might have possibilities. Care to demonstrate?”
“Certainly. Here.” She gave him the frozen treat the ice-cream vendor handed her. “That should cool you off.”
“You’re good at this.” Jason’s look made it clear that he was referring to her flirtatious comebacks.
“You’re not too bad yourself.”
“Thanks.”
They stopped at a nearby, empty park bench to enjoy their ice cream. Once they sat down, Heather realized why it had remained empty on a busy Saturday. It was set on an incline, which meant that the person on her end of the bench ended up with their feet dangling in the air.
“You’re too short on one end,” Jason noted as he finished his ice cream.
“I’m not too short.” Heather was defensive about her height, or lack thereof, because her sister was tall and willowy like their mom. Standing next to the pair of them, Heather had always felt like a stout stump. “The bench is on a slant. Your legs are longer than mine—you could swap seats with me.”
“I happen to like your seat the way it is. Fills out a pair of shorts extremely nicely. I can think of a way of solving your height problem, however.” Putting his hands beneath her legs, he draped first one, then the other across his lap. “That’s better,” he said with a great deal of satisfaction while she grabbed on to his shoulders to regain her balance. She was now seated at a right angle to him, her shoulder bumping against his chest, her hip nudging the placket of his jeans.
“Mmm.” Jason nuzzled the nape of her neck. “You smell good.”
“Balance. The name of my perfume is Balance. I don’t have much of that in my life, so figured I might as well have some in my perfume.”
Attempting to be nonchalant about her now provocative pose, she kept her gaze focused on the many boats on the lake, their colorful sails swelling in the cooling lake breeze. It didn’t help. She needed to focus on something nonsexual. His job. She latched on to the subject like a drowning woman reaching for a lifesaver.
“So what made you want to be a prosecutor instead of a defense attorney? I’m assuming you didn’t decide to work in the D.A.’s office for the prestige or the money or the glamour,” she teased.
“Glamour? Right. Doing paperwork, filing cases, reading case law, that’s all real glamorous. You’re the one with the glamorous job, not me.”
“You bet. I look real glamorous,” she said, giving up the battle and swinging her legs from his lap as she rubbed a smudge of dirt off her left knee. “You’re the one with your picture on the cover of magazines all over the city.”
“Don’t remind me. And I became a prosecutor because of the victims, because of wanting to right a wrong, see that a crime is punished.” Frowning, he added, “But it doesn’t always work out that way. In a trial, I can’t control what the judge or jury is going to do.”
“And you like being in control?”
“To be in hell is to drift. To be in heaven is to steer. So said George Bernard Shaw. And I agree. So yes, I like being in control.”
As she absently finished the rest of her ice cream, Heather couldn’t help wondering how she fit into his controlled plans. She had an uneasy feeling she didn’t. Not in the long term. Women who wore key lime pie on their shoes weren’t easy to steer. They tended to veer off in unknown directions. Did he know that?
“I’ve been uptight, waiting for a jury to come in with a verdict, and you’ve helped me relax today.” He tucked a loose strand of her fiery hair behind her ear. “I owe you for that.”
“You don’t owe me for that. You do owe me for that ice cream I bought you.” Her smile was sassy.
“Yes, I do. So let me thank you.” Jason brushed his mouth over hers. He teased her by running his tongue along the seam of her lips until she parted them. Taking his sweet time, he explored and sampled, captivated and tantalized.
The sun beating down on her head was nothing compared to the heat he was generating deep within her. Pulling her even deeper into the kiss, he ran his tongue over the smooth enamel of her front teeth. He tasted like chocolate and other sinful temptations.
Things were just getting really interesting when they were rudely interrupted by the strident sound only a child can make. An unhappy child.
“You’re on my bench,” a little boy wearing a Michael Jordan jersey shouted at them. “No kissing on my bench!”
6
“YOU HEARD THE KID,” Heather murmured against Jason’s lips, her voice tinged with laughter. “No kissing on his bench.”
As they got up and skated away under the disapproving eye of their pint-size chaperon, Jason muttered, “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”
“You bet. Didn’t you?” she asked, blinking at him guilelessly while skating circles around him. “You were sure acting like you enjoyed it.”
“I wasn’t referring to the kiss. I meant embarrassing me,” he said.
“It wouldn’t bother you if you weren’t such a stuffed shirt,” she teased, yanking on his immaculately pressed T-shirt for good measure.
“Are you saying I’m too uptight and stiff?” he demanded.
“Blimey, a man can never be too stiff or too rich,” Heather retorted in an audacious English accent, accompanied by a cheeky grin that faded as she remembered Nita and Bud were somewhere in the vicinity, keeping tabs on her progress. She’d forgotten all about them for a while there.
In fact, she’d forgotten about everything but Jason, and that was a dangerous thing to do. Because no matter how charming he was, no matter how incredibly well he kissed, there was no getting around the fact that he was the city’s sexiest bachelor, used to having beautiful women on his arm.
Spending time with Jason was making her wish she were prettier, thinner, taller, sexier. And that wasn’t a good thing. She’d been down that road before, too many times. It was strewn with potholes you could lose your self-identity in.
It had taken Heather years to accept herself for who she was. She didn’t need Jason rocking the boat for her now.
Her dark thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a head bobbing behind a nearby bush. A second later the head bobbed again, the sunlight bouncing off the shiny bald spot on top. The pervert hiding in the bushes was none other than Bud. She’d recognize his tacky taste in clothes anywhere. Not to mention the smell of his cigars.
But it smelled like something more than a cigar was burning. Bud�
��s way of hiding his smoking in their supposedly smoke-free office was to simply put the cigar behind his back, as if that made it all right. Heather had often thought it was only a matter of time before he set himself on fire.
Sure enough, a small column of smoke rose from behind him as Bud saw she was looking his way and ducked down behind the bush again. He didn’t stay there long, however. A minute later, he leaped out, yelping and smacking the smoking seat of his yellowand-green-checked golfing pants.
Immediately, everyone’s eyes were on him and his strange ants-in-his-pants antics.
“What’s wrong with him?” Jason asked.
“I guess he found himself in the hot seat once too often,” Heather said as Bud headed straight for the lake and dunked his steaming butt in the chilly water.
“If that’s the case, then I guess he’s learned his lesson,” Jason noted.
“I doubt it,” Heather muttered, wondering where Nita was. Up a tree somewhere? This was turning into a farce.
It couldn’t continue. She had to get this ridiculous bet out of the way as soon as possible. Then her life could get back to normal. She didn’t need a dropdead-gorgeous man like Jason resurrecting her longburied fears and doubts.
“So where do we go from here?” Jason asked.
“To Navy Pier.”
“I SEE NO SIGN that these two recognize they are soul mates.” The declaration came from Muriel, who didn’t sound the least bit pleased by the current state of affairs. She dangled her bare feet over the edge of the tree branch.
“Jason is intrigued by her,” Betty stoutly maintained, straddling a nearby branch like a roughrider while ducking in time to avoid being hit by a leaf waving in the breeze.
“And she’s attracted to him,” Hattie added. She’d placed a velvet pillow upon the tree branch she’d chosen, not wanting the rough bark to snag her sky blue dress or mess up her hairdo. “She’s just finding it difficult to believe he’s the one for her.”
“And I’m finding it difficult to believe that we actually wanted to be fairy godmothers.” Muriel’s ample bosom heaved with her put-upon sigh.
“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“We don’t have time for a trip down memory lane, for petunia’s sake,” Betty briskly reminded them. Today her T-shirt said Caution—I’ve Got An Attitude And I Know How To Use It.
“Those who don’t learn from their mistakes are doomed to repeat them.” Muriel’s prophesy was delivered with a face of gloom.
Betty’s aggravation increased as her wings nearly got whacked by a leaf. Hopping off the branch, she hovered in midair to put her hands on her waist and glare down at her two sisters. “Stop being such fussbudgets. I don’t know what you’ve got your knickers in a knot about. Things are going just fine. Heather will win her bet, that beastly Bud will have to be nice to his co-workers for a year and Jason will marry Heather.”
At which time, Hattie inserted her own fairy dust’s worth. “Remember, these are humans we’re working with. They never seem to conform to plans, even when they’re babies. I’ve got a bad feeling about Heather winning this bet.”
“Meaning she loses it?”
Hattie shook her head so vehemently that her sunflower-adorned straw hat tumbled into her eyes. “I’ve got a bad feeling about that, too.”
“What don’t you have a bad feeling about?” Betty’s increasing exasperation was evident. “I thought that’s what our plan was, for her to win the bet and Jason.”
“You know what they say about the best laid plans of mice and fairy godmothers…” Hattie intoned. “If she wins the bet, she may lose Jason. And if she loses the bet, she may lose her self-esteem. My instincts tell me we need to fix the Ferris wheel so that Heather won’t win or lose the bet. Some bad weather should do the trick. They shut it down during storms.”
Muriel had the final word. “I guess that means we punt and work on the weather until we fine-tune the details.”
HEATHER AND NITA rendezvoused in the ladies’ room on Navy Pier. Luckily it wasn’t crowded, allowing them some privacy as they stood in front of the huge mirror along one wall. Nita was wearing a brief lime green tank top and an even briefer pair of black shorts.
“I’m getting pretty good at this charade stuff,” Nita was bragging as she reapplied her cherry red lipstick.
Heather gave her an admonishing look. “I would not call crossing your legs, hopping and pointing to the bathroom a totally discreet means of communication. And don’t get used to this mime stuff. You’re having entirely too much fun with this.”
“Oh, and you’re not? Come on, I saw the two of you on that park bench, with Jason kissing you and you kissing him back. You’re doing just great! You’re two out of three right now. Bud is on the ropes. You’re ready to give him the knockout punch.”
“Enough already with the sports analogies,” Heather requested. “You’ve been hanging out with Bud too much.”
“Any time spent with Bud is too much time.”
After restoring some order to her hair, Heather dropped her comb back in her tiny purse. “Where is he, by the way?”
“He’s here at Navy Pier. I saw him a few minutes ago wearing an I Love Chicago T-shirt pulled down to his knees to cover the burn marks on the seat of his pants.”
“He didn’t hurt himself, did he?” Heather asked, feeling guilty.
“Just his pride, which he has too much of anyway.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Shaking her head, Heather gazed at her reflection in the mirror as if searching for answers. “I should never have let you and Bud rope me into this. I’d never advise one of my callers to do what I’m doing.”
Nita patted Heather’s shoulder reassuringly. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”
“What about Jason?”
“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, either.”
“But I know. And I feel badly about it.”
“Feel badly about it later,” Nita ordered briskly. “For now, listen while I coach you on making out on a Ferris wheel. The trick is not to get sick on the darn thing. You don’t, do you?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never ridden one.”
“So this is your maiden voyage, huh? That’s great. Then you don’t even have to fake the fear and panic.”
Heather winced. “Gee, you make it sound so appealing.”
“Just hang on to Jason as if he was saving your life.”
“You sound like my mother.” At Nita’s affronted glare, Heather said, “Well, you do. She used to tell me to act meek and helpless and maybe some boy would feel sorry enough for me to take me out.”
“Well, that’s the difference between me and your mom. One of them, anyway. I’m not saying to act mild or helpless. I’m talking about physical contact here.”
But Heather had had her fill of advice. “Forget it. I’m just going to get on the ride and see what happens.”
“Fine. Bud and I will stay down here and observe you.”
“Wait a minute.” Heather grabbed Nita’s arm. “I saw the promo on this ride. The Ferris wheel is fifteen stories high! Neither of you would be able to tell what was going on if you stay down here. Why aren’t you going on the ride?” she added suspiciously.
“Number one, because we’re afraid of heights. Number two, because if we sit close enough to watch you, then Jason would be able to see us. And he’d get suspicious.”
“You and Bud could pretend to be dating,” Heather suggested.
“Bite your tongue!”
AS SHE AND JASON STOOD in line to get on the Ferris wheel, Heather was silently making excuses for her mixed emotions about him. Nita had been right about one thing: Heather was having fun with Jason. Too much fun. Enough fun to make her nervous.
Maybe she was feeling so jittery because it had been a while since she’d had a date. She put in long hours at the station and didn’t have much time or energy to devote to her private life. Not that she’d had much of a private li
fe since Howard had taken off to commune with ferns.
Sure, plenty of men were attracted to her radio personality, and Heather got piles of fan mail from men wanting to meet her. Or, rather, they wanted to meet the woman she sounded like, not the woman she was.
If you look half as good as you sound, you must be really hot. That line showed up in a lot of the letters Heather received from her male audience.
That fact was brought home to her whenever she was out and about and someone recognized her name, or her voice. They’d look at her as if she’d been trapped in the wrong body. It was a look she’d gotten all too often from her own parents, and she didn’t need to be getting it from strangers as well.
Jason, however, didn’t look at her that way. But one afternoon of in-line skating did not a relationship make. She wanted the man in her life to make her feel good about herself, not make her doubt herself even more than usual.
“LET ME DO IT, let me do it!” Hattie was imploring Betty. “I never get to play with weather magic.”
“What about that freak tornado in Nebraska?” “Nebraska gets plenty of tornadoes.” “Not in January.” Betty retorted. “You’re just lucky I fixed it as fast as I did.”
“So I got a little overzealous. Like you’ve never gotten overzealous? What about the time—”
Betty cut her off by putting her hand over Hattie’s mouth. “All right already. You can do the weather magic. All we need is enough rain and lightning to shut down the ride. Nothing more. So be careful.”
HEATHER HAD HEARD the phrase “the heavens opened,” but she’d never been standing under them when it happened. The dark rain clouds blew in off the lake without any warning, scattering the crowd, who hadn’t expected any precipitation since the skies had been clear a short while before.
The Ferris wheel closed for business because of the weather. Heather knew a cosmic hint when she got one. She was ready to call it quits for the day.
