Body Heat

by Susan Fox

  So he stuck his hands under the garden tap, washed them, and splashed cold water on his face. If only he could pour a bucket of it down his jeans.

  Eventually, his hard-on subsided and he was left with nothing but an ache. He tidied up the garden and walked to her window.

  She’d said she fantasized about him, too. He wondered if she was still doing it, now that she’d decided they could only be friends. He sure hoped so.

  Right now, she had her head down and was clicking her pen. Good. That was the one thing she did that annoyed him. It’d keep him from drifting off into any more steamy fantasies. He knocked on the frame of the open window.

  She looked up with a smile. “Come in, Jesse.”

  He stepped over the sill. “Hi, Maura.”

  “Have a seat.” She gestured toward his usual vinyl chair.

  Nope, he wasn’t going to sit there again, not after what he’d just been imagining. He plunked down in the other one.

  “I forgot to tell you,” she said. “Cherry Lane’s lawyer has drafted a waiver. So the next time you want to take Fred—or one of the others—for a ride, please make sure they sign the form first.”

  “You bet.” He wasn’t surprised Maura had moved quickly on this, but he’d figured a lawyer would take days messing about. “And I’ll make sure they’re fit enough, and tell them how to ride.”

  Mischief tilted her lips. “The same rules you gave me?”

  He chuckled, glad she was no longer trying to pretend—or forget—that they’d had sex. “Maybe phrased a little different.”

  “I certainly hope so,” she said with mock primness. Then her eyes started to glaze, and he guessed she was remembering. Perhaps drifting off into a fantasy.

  She gave a little jerk and clicked her pen a couple of times. Briskly, she said, “Also, I was thinking, if you find a reading program and want to get started, you don’t have to wait until the community service has ended. We can adjust the schedule so you work here fewer hours, but for a longer period of time.”

  “Not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “Staying here longer?” She frowned, looking disappointed. “You don’t want to?”

  Only long enough to figure out how he felt about her. If they were just going to be friends, they could see each other away from Cherry Lane. If he wanted to talk about long-term and she wanted to listen, then the quicker she stopped being his boss, the better. He couldn’t exactly tell her all that stuff. “Want to get the community service finished and clean up my record.”

  She nodded quickly. “Of course.”

  “But thanks for the offer. If we can juggle the schedule so I can take courses and work longer hours some days to make up the time, that’d be great.”

  “You’re going to be a busy guy. Your job, your work here, helping Mrs. Wolchuk, and taking courses.”

  He shrugged. “It’s good to be busy.”

  She was studying him again, this time not like she was going into a trance, but with narrowed eyes. Now what was on her mind?

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  She bit her lip. “I’m not sure if I should say this.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “You mentioned your record. And now that I’m getting to know you, now that we’re friends”—she colored slightly—“I really have trouble imagining you beating up that man.”

  Was this another reason she didn’t want to get involved with him? Did she have a picture in her head of him with bloody fists, beating up Gord Pollan? Well, it was true. That was part of who he was, just as much as the part that wanted to help old Mrs. Wolchuk keep her house and dog.

  “I did.” How could he make her understand?

  He thought about a movie he liked, that he’d watched again a few days ago. “There’s this movie. Near the end, this bad guy attacks a couple of kids. They’re in the woods, all alone. He’s maybe going to kill them. But this other guy, I think he’s kind of been looking out for the kids, and he comes along and—”

  “Are you talking about To Kill a Mockingbird? I love that movie. I just watched it again last week.”

  “Yeah, me, too.” So they’d both been alone, watching that movie. Like in When Harry Met Sally. It’d be way more fun to watch together. They were friends now. They could do that. Except, if he watched a movie with her, he wasn’t going to want the night to end with the movie.

  Then he remembered something. “Hey, I thought you didn’t like movies.”

  Her cheeks flamed. “I lied. I’m sorry.”

  “Huh?” Maura, who hated dishonesty, had lied about whether she liked movies? “How come?”

  “My parents think movies and TV—except documentaries—are a waste of time. They were banned in our house. But I always had a secret craving, and when I moved out on my own I indulged it. I know there’s really no reason to be embarrassed about it but yet . . .”

  Her parents really had done a number on her, but he understood why she’d always tried so hard to please them. “I’m not gonna criticize. I love ’em, too.”

  She gave him a big, warm smile. “Thanks.”

  “Anyhow, so Boo Radley kills that bad guy Ewell, right? He saves the kids. It’s not like he has time to call the cops.”

  Her face went serious. “No, but he shouldn’t have killed him. I doubt he needed to do that. Still, Boo Radley wasn’t, well, normal. He probably had a mental illness. That’s why the sheriff ended up protecting him and saying Mr. Ewell fell on his own knife.”

  “Yeah. And Ewell was a bad guy. Boo wasn’t. He was protecting the kids. That’s all he cared about, and he did it in the only way he knew how.”

  She gazed at him across the desk, her eyes troubled. “And you protected Consuela in the only way you knew how.”

  “Yeah.” He studied that pure, perfect face of hers. “And I did it better than the cops or lawyers had been able to.”

  “It’s so wrong that the justice system couldn’t help your friend.”

  “Yeah, it is.” He leaned forward and rested his arms on her desk so that his dark, bare forearms brushed her crisp blue shirt. “Maura, it’s not like I wanted to beat up on Pollan. I had no choice.”

  “Some problems don’t have easy answers,” she said slowly.

  “You got that right.”

  She pressed her lips together, then released them. “If I was in Consuela’s situation, I’d want a friend like you.”

  Warmth rushed through him. He knew that was a big admission for her. Gruffly, he said, “And you’d have one.” And now he really had to kiss her. He leaned forward.

  “Jesse,” she breathed, and he read uncertainty on her face.

  Before she could decide how to respond, a knock sounded on the open door and Ming-mei’s voice said, “Maura, I—Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I thought Jesse was out in the garden.”

  He sat back in his chair as Maura cleared her throat and said briskly, “That’s fine, Ming-mei. What is it?”

  “Mrs. Davidson’s daughter is here, and I know it’s past visiting hours but there’s a family crisis.”

  Maura glanced over at him. “Thanks for giving me your report, Jesse. I won’t keep you any longer.” Relief and regret mingled in her eyes.

  “I’ll be going.” He stood and headed for the door, not the window.

  “Oh, Jesse,” Maura called, and he turned back as she went on. “Tomorrow night, you’re not coming in, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I’ll see you Saturday then.”

  A day without seeing her. Maybe that was a good thing. The situation with Maura was complicated, and he wasn’t good at complicated. They could probably both use a breather.

  Chapter 17

  Friday evening, Maura sat across the table from Edward Mortimer in her favorite French bistro, a neighborhood restaurant where she often dined by herself. When he’d asked her to suggest a place, it was the only one that had sprung to mind.

  It felt strange to be here with him. The hostess
had given them Maura’s usual table, in a quiet corner where there was enough light to read a book while she ate.

  Tonight, she was reading a menu she knew by heart. When Edward said, “What would you recommend?” she listed a few things she enjoyed. For appetizers, they decided on mussels for him and endive salad for her, followed by rosemary rack of lamb for him and coq au vin for her.

  Surreptitiously, she checked her watch. That discussion had taken all of five minutes. What now? She was such a clumsy conversationalist, never sure what topics would interest people. When in doubt, it was always safe to ask about their work, but she’d heard—or, rather, daydreamed through—enough of that at her birthday dinner.

  “You mentioned you grew up in a military family and traveled a lot,” she said. “What was that like?”

  “There was good and bad. The best part was seeing so many interesting places. It gave me a real travel bug.”

  “And the worst?”

  “I’d make friends, then either my family would leave or theirs would.”

  “That does sound difficult.” But at least he’d made friends, which was more than she had, except for Sally. “Where was your favorite place?”

  “Hmm, that’s a good question.”

  She’d asked a good question? All those talks she’d had with Jesse must have improved her conversational skills.

  But she shouldn’t be thinking of Jesse. Shouldn’t be missing him and wishing he was across the table from her, rather than coaching basketball. Did he like French food? Maybe they’d have gone for pizza instead, then debated what movie to watch, or whether to make love before or after the movie—or maybe both.

  The appetizers arrived and Maura gave herself a mental slap on the wrist. She was with Edward, who was a very nice man. Jesse was her friend, which was all he’d ever be, whereas Edward had potential. He wasn’t a player, and he did want marriage and kids. If she was going to date any man, it would be Edward, not Jesse.

  He lifted his glass of red wine toward her. “Thanks for coming to dinner with me.”

  She clicked her glass of white against his. “Thanks for inviting me.”

  “When I asked you to that lecture, I got the impression you weren’t interested in me.”

  She’d been driving with Jesse, totally distracted by him—and no, she hadn’t been interested in Edward. “You caught me at a bad time and I wasn’t in the mood for attending a lecture. Not that I don’t enjoy them, but I’ve been to so many over the years. It’s nice to have a change. Like tonight.”

  He nodded. “Hard to talk to each other at a lecture.”

  She stifled a grin. Given her questionable social skills, that was one of the things she actually liked about lectures.

  They tasted their food and he said, “The mussels are great. Thanks for recommending them.” He asked her how her week had gone, and she told him about being extra busy since she was filling in for Louise.

  He asked good questions himself, and drew her out. She was actually surprised when, as they finished their main courses, she caught sight of her watch and realized an hour had passed. When Edward suggested sharing dessert, she agreed, and they had crèpes Suzette with Grand Marnier sauce, flamed at the table.

  As she savored the decadent dessert, Maura gazed across the table at him. He was probably the nicest man she’d ever gone out with. Intelligent, interesting, considerate, and pleasant looking. Whether by accident or design, her parents had done a good job this time. A month ago, she’d probably have been delighted.

  Now, she wished for sparks of arousal. Surely Jesse couldn’t have ruined her for being happy with an appropriate mate.

  Her library book talked about the different ways attraction and love could grow. Initial sparks could be simply lust, and fizzle. Love could grow from proximity, common interests, shared responsibilities, mutual respect. That often happened in arranged marriages, and then the love ignited into genuine passion.

  She studied Edward over the rim of her coffee cup. Could she ever feel passionate about him? Or did her newly awakened libido have the hots for only one man?

  She’d get over it. Jesse would get a new girlfriend and stop shooting her those heated gazes that got her blood roaring. And Maura would seriously consider dating Edward.

  In fact, she should invite him to be her date for the reunion. Surely that would be better than going alone.

  And yet, she couldn’t form those words. Not while they discussed their favorite desserts. Not when he drove her home. And not when he walked her to the door of her apartment building and said, “I had a lovely time, Maura. I’d like to see you again.”

  Instead, she said, “I had a lovely time, too. Why don’t you call me next week?”

  Would he try to kiss her? Did she want him to? If he did, would she feel tingles, sparks?

  The last time she’d been alone with Jesse, he’d leaned across her desk, intent clear in his eyes. She’d wanted so badly to kiss him but knew she shouldn’t.

  She wouldn’t have. Even if Ming-mei hadn’t interrupted, she wouldn’t have.

  With Edward, though . . . Oh, for heaven’s sake. She was a sexy thirty-year-old woman, learning about her own sexuality. She leaned over—because, with Edward, she didn’t have to go up on her toes like with Jesse—and rested her hands on his shoulders. “Thanks for tonight, Edward.” Then she touched her lips to his.

  It took him a moment, but only a moment. His arms came around her and he kissed her back, his lips moving softly against hers. His breath smelled pleasantly of orange brandy; he exerted just the right amount of pressure, and though he flicked his tongue against the crease between her lips, he didn’t press for entry.

  She responded in kind, thinking that he was really a very nice kisser. And yet, she felt no sparks.

  After ten or twenty seconds, he eased away, smiling. “I’ll talk to you soon. Sleep well, Maura.”

  “You, too.”

  She held back a sigh until she’d gone inside and closed the door. That experiment hadn’t been a dismal failure, but it certainly hadn’t been a roaring success. Still, if she got to know Edward better, maybe love and passion would grow.

  It was still fairly early, but the week had been tiring, so rather than watch a movie, she curled up in bed and let her tired lids droop. Tomorrow, she’d see Jesse again.

  Tonight . . .

  She shouldn’t dream about him. But she hoped she would.

  Partway through the Friday night basketball game, Jesse noticed Consuela and Juanito watching. Afterward, they came over to say hi.

  “Got any plans for the night?” Con asked.

  He shook his head. “Want to go to the park for ice cream?”

  “Yay!” Juanito put in his vote.

  They made their way to the park they always went to, the mom and son in Con’s old car and Jesse on his bike. Once they’d bought cones, Juanito ran off to play with another boy, and Con and Jesse found an empty picnic table and sat on either side of it.

  “You know that guy?” she asked.

  She could be talking about any man in the world, but he guessed who she meant. “The one from Monday?” He licked melting chocolate ice cream. “You see him again?”

  “Yeah.” She twirled her raspberry sorbet cone between her hands, then finally captured a drip with her tongue. “He’s a jerk.”

  “Jesus. What’d he do? He didn’t”—he glanced around to make sure her son was out of earshot—“hit you, did he?”

  “No. He took me to a movie and was too touchy-feely, then he took me home and wanted to have sex. I said no way, and he kept pushing. He said I looked so hot, he couldn’t believe I wouldn’t put out.”

  “Asshole.”

  “Yeah. Why don’t guys respect me? Do I have to dress like a librarian?”

  He laughed. “What do librarians dress like?”

  “I don’t know. Conservative. Tasteful,” she said sarcastically.

  Like Maura, he figured. “Well, guys would probably see you differen
tly, but seems to me you ought to be able to dress however you want to.” He studied her, tonight in frayed jean cutoffs and a bright pink top, both of which hugged her curves. Her wavy black hair was pulled up into some kind of fluffy ponytail, and her lipstick and nail polish matched her top. She looked as vivid as a hot-pink geranium. “You look great.”

  “Thanks, hon.”

  They licked their cones for a few minutes in silence. Across the park, Juanito had finished his. He and the other boy were running around with a yappy little terrier.

  “Friday night,” she said, “and neither of us has a date.” She tilted her head and stared at him. “I know my reasons. How about you, Jesse?”

  “There’s only one woman I’ve met lately who I like, and she won’t go out with me.”

  Her dark brows rose. “She won’t? Jeez, what’s wrong with her?”

  “Long story.”

  “Aw, come on. I told you my story.” A teasing glint lit her dark eyes. “You finally meet a girl who’s immune to your charm?”

  Maura definitely wasn’t immune. “Nah, but she says it’s a bad idea. She’s my supervisor at that seniors place.”

  “Say what? Jesse, seriously?”

  He nodded.

  “What’s she like?”

  “Pretty, smart, thoughtful, generous. Well-educated. Kind of ambitious, I guess. There’s this promotion she wants, to general manager.”

  “General manager? Of the whole place?”

  When he nodded, she said, “Wow.”

  “She says if we got together, her Board of Directors would be pissed off. It could cost her the promotion, and maybe even the job she has now.” He’d been thinking hard about asking his lawyer if they could find some other place for Jesse to do community service. He liked Cherry Lane, but he really wanted to ask Maura out. Now, not three months from now.

  Con studied him some more, frowning. “Look, Jesse, hon, you know I love you to bits. You’re fantastic. But a woman like her . . . I mean . . .”

  “What does she see in me?” he asked, kind of disappointed but not exactly surprised.