“One of my charms,” Matt said, a little shakily.
“Give it time.” Gabe’s hand squeezed his shoulder for an instant. “You always know where I am.”
He went inside, and the screen closed quietly behind him, leaving Matt alone on the porch.
Chapter Four
Matt had been in Beirut during his tenth high-school reunion and covering the aftermath of an earthquake in Afghanistan when the twentieth rolled around, but if he’d felt any regret at missing an opportunity to touch base with his old classmates, he could now put it to rest. As near as he could tell, everyone he’d ever gone to school with had come to the welcome-home party Reilly had insisted on throwing for him. A lot of them had been guests at Reilly’s wedding five years ago, so there wasn’t that sense of shock he would have felt if he hadn’t seen them in twenty years, but there were some…
“Who’s the redhead with the large…attributes?” he asked Reilly, pitching his voice low to avoid being overheard. “The one talking to Randy Harris?”
Reilly followed Matt’s eyes to the tall, striking woman with truly astonishing curves. He swallowed the last of the bacon-wrapped oyster he’d just popped in his mouth and grinned. “Livvy Bradford.”
Matt’s brows drew together as he tried to place the name. When he did, he shot Reilly an astonished look. “Captain of the debate team Livvy Bradford? Head of the class Livvy Bradford? Computer nerd Livvy Bradford?”
Reilly’s grin widened. “That’s the one.”
“Can’t be.” Matt shook his head. “Livvy Bradford was built like a swizzle stick. Couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. And she had carrot-red hair, buck teeth and glasses.”
“Amazing what silicone, Miss Clairol, an orthodontist and an optometrist can do for a girl, isn’t it?”
“Amazing.” Matt shook his head, unable to reconcile the woman he was looking at with the skinny, gawky teenager he remembered. “What happened?”
Reilly lifted a fat pink shrimp from its icy bed and bit into it. “She got married, got divorced. Started some sort of software company. She made a fortune. That’s when she got the large…attributes and new teeth. Got married again, divorced again. Started a consulting business. Made another fortune. I think after that she got the hair extensions and contacts. Married again, divorced again. Started an Internet business that does something or sells something. She’s still working on that, but, a couple of months ago, she had her lips done.”
“Done?”
“Collagen injections.” Reilly tapped one finger against his own pursed lips. “If you were closer, you’d notice. Mouth looks just like a mackerel now.” He grinned when Matt laughed. “If she follows her usual pattern, she’s about ready for husband number four. Maybe you should put yourself on the list for the job. Woman’s got more money than God. If you played your cards right, you could become a very well-kept man.”
“Yeah, being a gigolo has always been one of my burning career ambitions.” Matt lifted his glass and took a swallow of beer.
“I don’t think they call it a gigolo when you’re married. Besides, weren’t you and Livvy friends or something?” Reilly popped another oyster in his mouth and gave Matt a questioning look.
“We were lab partners in biology one year. She had a tongue like a pit viper and bitched endlessly about the way I took notes.”
“No romance amid the formaldehyde and dissected frog parts?” Reilly asked, looking disappointed.
Matt laughed out loud. God, he’d missed this. It had been too long since he’d just let himself enjoy life’s absurdities. He’d spent too many years looking into the darkness, capturing it forever on film. He’d almost forgotten that there was a world where famine and war were not a daily part of life. It felt damned good to be reminded.
He’d never been particularly fond of parties. Too many people, too much noise, too much booze and bad food. He generally preferred his socializing on a smaller scale. But he had to hand it to Dana McKinnon, she knew how to avoid all the usual problems.
Despite the fact that half the county seemed to be here, the big house didn’t feel crowded. The French doors had been left open, encouraging the guests to spill out onto the patio and pool deck and enjoy the warm summer night. The furniture in the living room had been pushed back to provide room for dancing. So far, the music had ranged from old rock and roll through disco, with a few side trips into old standards. Right now he could hear a plaintive plea for Sloopy to hang on and see half a dozen couples gyrating with varying degrees of skill.
“I’m not sure, but I think there’s a law against anything that tastes this good.” Reilly’s groan of pleasure drew Matt’s attention back to him. He nodded sympathetically when he saw the slice of dense, nearly black chocolate cake on his friend’s plate.
“Jessie calls it death by chocolate, and I think she may mean it literally. I thought about having a second piece, but I don’t think my arteries would survive.”
Reilly took another bite and sighed with pleasure as the thick chocolate melted on his tongue. “Deadly. Who would have thought that sweet little Jessie would grow up to be so vicious?”
“Who would have thought she’d grow up?” Matt murmured, his smile fading a little as his eyes sought her out. She was standing across the room, talking to Gabe, who was laughing at something she’d said.
She was wearing a dress again. This one was black and made of some kind of thin fabric that clung to every curve. And there were plenty of curves for it to cling to. Warm feminine curves that turned his mind in directions it had no business going. God, didn’t she own any pants? he wondered irritably. Or a nice, ankle-length skirt? Did she plan her whole wardrobe around garments designed to show off those mile-long legs?
“I still can’t believe she’s the same skinny little kid who used to tag along after us,” Reilly said, following his gaze and apparently reading his thoughts. Matt hoped he couldn’t read all of them.
As if sensing his gaze, Jessie turned her head, her wide mouth curving in a smile when their eyes met. She said something as she touched Gabe’s arm, and Matt lifted his beer in acknowledgment when his brother glanced across the room. He was willing to bet that Gabe was already thinking about making his getaway. Parties ranked a half step ahead of visits to the dentist on his older brother’s list of favorite ways to spend his time. He’d only come to this one because it was intended as a welcome-home for Matt.
With a last word to Gabe, Jessie turned and walked toward him, and Matt promptly forgot his brother. She couldn’t possibly be wearing a bra under what there was of that dress, he thought, and then wished he hadn’t. It was bad enough that he couldn’t ignore those legs. He didn’t need to think about her underwear. Or lack thereof.
“You are a cruel woman,” Reilly said as she approached. “You may even be evil and depraved.”
Jessie glanced at the last bite of cake on his plate and grinned. “You can hardly blame me for your lack of willpower.”
“I’m considering an exorcism,” Reilly said darkly.
“For me or the cake?”
“I think it should be exorcized,” Matt said. “If it’s devil’s food.” He threw up one hand in laughing defense when his companions groaned. “Sorry.”
“You should be,” Reilly grumbled.
Standing there with the two of them, Jessie felt something shift inside her, a slow easing of a kind of emptiness she hadn’t even realized was there. Her grandfather’s death had left her alone, but she hadn’t realized just how lonely she’d felt until this moment, when she realized that she still had family, though it was of the heart rather than by blood.
Reilly sighed as he finished the last bite of cake and set the plate aside. He gave Jessie a reproachful look. “I figure I’m going to have to run an extra fifteen miles next week just to work off all those calories.”
“Poor baby.” Her grin made the sympathy decidedly suspect, and she laughed when he scowled at her.
“Just for
that, you can help me work off the calories.”
Jessie shook her head. “I’m not going running with you. No way. Last time I went running with you, you tried to kill me. You made me run off a cliff.”
“That was ten years ago, and it wasn’t a cliff. It was just a little wash, and I thought you knew it was there.”
“I was picking gravel out of my knees for a month.”
“You weren’t supposed to slide down it on your knees.”
“Now you tell me.” She shook her head. “I don’t care how many calories were in that cake, I’m not going running with you.”
“I had something more immediate in mind.” He cocked his head toward the living room, where Sloopy had given way to Little Eva urging everyone to do the Loco-Motion. Jessie’s eyes widened, and she shook her head, laughing. “Oh no. You’re not going to drag me out there to make a fool of myself.”
“You owe me, Jess.” Grinning, Reilly caught her hand and tugged her toward the living room. “If you don’t help me work off some calories, I’ll have to buy a new wardrobe, and I’ll bill you for it.”
“Reilly, I haven’t danced in ages. I don’t remember how.”
“It’s just like riding a bike,” he said, ignoring her laughing protests.
“Can’t I just ride a bike instead?” Jessie threw Matt a pleading look. “Do something.”
“I’ll come watch,” he offered, following them across the hall.
“Traitor,” she accused, but she was smiling when Reilly pulled her onto the floor just as the song changed and the plaintive inquiry of “Do You Love Me” echoed in the room. Matt heard Jessie laugh as Reilly swung her into his arms.
It wasn’t the first time he’d seen them dance together, he reminded himself. He’d been present at more than one of their practice sessions—God, had it been more than ten years ago? But for some reason, this time, he was aware of how…sexual some of the moves were. Idiot. Why do you think they call it dirty dancing? When Reilly set his hands on Jessie’s hips and pulled her against him so that they were pressed pelvis to pelvis, Matt was startled by the urge to yank her away from him. It was bad enough that he’d been thinking about her underwear. Now Reilly had his damned hands all over her.
“They look good together.”
He hadn’t been aware of Dana’s approach until she spoke. He turned his head to look at her, struck as he was each time he saw her by the sheer beauty of her. But it was an impersonal admiration, the same way he couldn’t help but notice a beautiful sunset or admire a striking piece of artwork. He didn’t give so much as a thought to her underwear. There was probably a message there, he thought uneasily, before turning his attention back to the small dance floor.
“They should look good together,” he said, responding to Dana’s comment. “Reilly taught her to dance. He had the hots for some girl who had a thing for that guy in Dirty Dancing. Remember?”
“Patrick Swayze,” Dana said, her eyes following the couple on the dance floor, which had cleared around them.
“That’s the one. Reilly decided to impress her with his dance skills, so he talked Jessie into being his practice partner.”
Jessie laughed as Reilly drew her knee up alongside his hip and dipped her backward until the ends of her hair brushed the floor, before swinging her back up and catching her against his chest, her arms around his shoulders, her smiling mouth inches from his. Matt made a conscious effort to loosen his white-knuckle grip on his beer. This was just for fun, he reminded himself. Playful. Innocent. People were laughing, clapping.
Why the hell wasn’t this illegal?
“Did he get the girl?” Dana asked.
With an effort, Matt dragged his attention from the couple on the floor. “Girl?” he asked blankly.
“The one with the Patrick Swayze fixation.”
“Her.” Matt blinked and tried to remember back to that half-forgotten summer. “Yeah, and when he took her dancing, she turned out to have two left feet.”
Dana smiled faintly, but her expression remained unreadable. He wondered if masking her feelings came naturally to her or if it was something she’d learned during the time she was a pageant contestant. He looked back at the dance floor in time to see Reilly spin Jessie out and then back, catching her close against his chest as the music came to an end. They stood pressed together for an instant and then broke apart, smiling and laughing a little at the smattering of applause. Still holding hands, they swept an exaggerated bow before moving off the floor as the next song began.
“I can’t believe I let you drag me out there,” Jessie said, laughing and breathless.
“I told you it was just like riding a bike.” Reilly threw his arm around her shoulders, hugging her close as he brushed a brotherly kiss against her temple. “You didn’t step on my feet more than three or four times.” He had to release her to dodge the elbow she aimed at his ribs.
He was still smiling when he looked at his wife. “Care to take a spin?” he asked, holding out his hand.
Dana seemed to hesitate, and, for just a moment, Matt thought he saw something almost wistful in her eyes, but then she shook her head.
“I need to check on things in the kitchen. Besides, I couldn’t possibly follow that exhibition,” she added lightly. “Too bad there’s not much call for baton twirling.”
Reilly let his hand drop, his eyes following his wife as she walked away. Matt looked away from the naked emotion in his friend’s eyes, hunger and pain tangled together. Shifting his gaze, he looked at Jessie. And found a nearly identical look in her eyes as she looked at Reilly.
Well, hell. She’s in love with him. More shaken than he had any right to be, Matt fixed his gaze on a nice, neutral spot somewhere between the two of them and contemplated the possibility that he’d spent too much time looking at the world through a camera lens and not nearly enough paying attention to what was right in front of his nose.
Her head tilted back against the leather seat, Jessie hummed tunelessly, the sound barely audible over the quiet purr of the Jeep’s engine. If she turned her head slightly, she could see Matt’s hands on the steering wheel. He had good hands, she decided. Wide palms and long fingers. Strong hands. The kind of hands that made you feel safe. She’d always felt safe with Matt, she thought, smiling a little. She was so lucky to have him for a friend.
It was past one o’clock in the morning, and they had the road to themselves. Millers Crossing didn’t boast much by way of a nightlife, not even on a Saturday night.
“It’s really nice of you to drive me home,” Jessie said, breaking the silence for the first time since Matt had lifted her into the Jeep, reached around her to secure the seat belt and shut the door.
“No problem.”
“I didn’t really drink all that much, you know. Just a couple or three glasses of wine.” She frowned out at the quiet street. “It’s just that I don’t have much tolerance for alclu—” Her tongue stumbled, and she frowned for a moment before tackling the word again, pronouncing it slowly and carefully. “Alcohol. I have a low tolerance for it. It’s probably a genetic thing.” Stretching out one hand in front of her, she contemplated her fingers. “Like having curly hair or small feet.” She sighed and let her hand fall. “We’re all victims of our DNA, I guess. Probably even the fact that you’re driving me home is because you have a nice bump in your DNA somewhere.” She yawned. “I could have spent the night at Reilly’s. He wouldn’t have minded. He’s got a nice bump, too.”
Matt’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel, and he loosened them with a conscious effort. He wasn’t feeling particularly nice. He was feeling… something. Frustration. Irritation. And an odd and illogical sense of betrayal. Totally ridiculous, all of it. Just how the hell long had she been in love with Reilly? Looking back, he knew there had been a time when she’d had a crush on him. He wasn’t sure Reilly had ever recognized it. Being observant wasn’t one of Reilly’s strong suits. But he’d seen the way Jessie looked at Reilly, her heart in those
big brown eyes, all her emotions laid bare at a glance. He hadn’t thought about it in years—hadn’t, in fact, thought about it much at the time. She was young. Reilly was blond, good-looking, athletic and carelessly kind. It was hardly surprising if she fancied herself in love with him.
Had she loved him all these years?
The thought was infuriating. She was his friend, and he hated the idea that she might have spent years yearning for something that could never happen. It was the waste that bothered him. Whatever was going on in Reilly’s marriage—and there was no question that something was going on—it was obvious that he didn’t feel anything but friendship for Jessie. If there had been something more there, he wouldn’t have danced with her the way he had. He wouldn’t have put his damned hands all over her while he laughed and smiled like a damned baboon.
It took a conscious effort to loosen his grip on the steering wheel again. He remembered reading that people suffering from post-traumatic stress were prone to exaggerated emotional responses. Maybe that was what was happening now. Maybe that was what had been happening every time he saw Jessie. Would that explain why he kept noticing those damned legs of hers? And why he couldn’t stop wondering what she did—or didn’t—have on under that little slip of a dress? And while he was at it, maybe he could blame it on the fact that he’d nicked himself shaving this morning. And the generally rotten state of world politics.
Jessie was humming again as he turned down the street where her grandfather’s house sat. He parked the Jeep in front of the tidy little two-story home and shut the engine off.
“We’re here,” Jessie said, sounding as if their arrival was a delightful surprise. She turned her head to look at him, and he caught the sweet curve of her smile in the dim light. “Thank you for bringing me home, Matt. It was very—”
“Nice,” he interrupted. “I’m just a victim of my DNA.”
She was fumbling with the seat belt, and he reached over to unlatch it for her before he pushed open his door and slid out from under the wheel. He walked around the front of the Jeep, aware of the stillness around him. It was a different kind of quiet than there was at Gabe’s. Neat houses lined each side of the street. There were no lights to suggest that any of the inhabitants were awake, but there was a sense of their presence. The drone of an air conditioner, the subtle hum of appliances, the inaudible rhythm of a place where people lived and breathed.
Loving Jessie Page 7