Doug grunted, sounding frustrated. “I can’t do that to Stan.”
His response surprised her. It sounded like he had some kind of commitment to Stan Ingersoll other than just a former working relationship. She hadn’t thought Doug had ties with anyone.
“Why not?”
“Because he asked me to come, that’s why. Please say you’ll come, Andrea. It’s only dinner.”
“Okay. I’ll come.”
Maybe, as Doug’s training officer, she should observe his relationship with the man who inspired such fierce loyalty in him. And maybe she was just too weak to say no.
* * *
“STAN COMES ON a little gruff at times, but he’s really a good guy,” Doug said the next evening as they approached the door of Stan’s Tudor-style, two-story house.
“Like someone else I know?”
Doug looked down at her, taking in the grin that was spreading across her face, appreciating the figure-molding bodysuit she had on underneath her thigh-length jacket. She was dressed in his favorite color, all black, and it looked great against her soft white skin and perky blond hair. He figured he was feeling good enough to let her comment pass.
Andrea liked Stan and Myra. They welcomed her into their home as if she was a visiting dignitary. And Doug they treated like a son.
“You gonna help me with all the ladies again this year, Doug?” Stan asked, spooning himself a second serving of potatoes.
“I’m always eager to take ladies off your hands, Stan, you know that,” Doug said with a cocky grin.
“You boys stop right now,” Myra piped up from her side of the table. “They helped several of the ladies at church unload their cars last year at the bazaar,” she explained to Andrea.
Andrea watched enviously as Myra attempted to send her husband a chastising look across the table. Somehow, by the time it reached Stan, it had changed into a smile that promised private retribution at a more appropriate time. They both looked like they were looking forward to it.
Doug leaned over the corner of the table. “You look gorgeous tonight,” he whispered in Andrea’s ear.
Andrea blushed, thankful that her host and hostess were otherwise engaged. “Behave,” she said as sternly as she could manage under her breath.
“Doug tells me you gave him a hard time down at the Hetherington Hotel,” Stan said later that evening while they all nursed after-dinner coffee.
“Did he also tell you he fell asleep during my first session?” she asked, taking a sip of her coffee. She’d teach Doug Avery to mess with her.
“Yep. He did at that. He also told me you did one hell of a good job getting him in shape to hit the schools. He was really sweating that one.”
Andrea sent Doug a surprised glance. He’d talked to Stan? She’d thought details about Doug Avery’s life, his inner musings, were strictly off-limits.
“And if you say any more, Stan, my man, you’d best be taking your gun to bed with you tonight.”
Now that sounded more like the Doug she knew.
“So you guys’ve known each other a long time?” she asked Stan. She wasn’t giving up yet.
“Ever since I stumbled on this punk in—”
“Long enough.” Doug cut him off, pushing away from the table. “It’s getting late and I promised Andrea I’d have her home early,” he said stiffly.
Andrea thanked the Ingersolls for a wonderful evening and followed Doug out to his car. She was silent as he drove her home and left her with just a brief kiss. She couldn’t help wondering what it was that Stan had been about to say—what it was Doug didn’t want her to know. She wondered if she’d ever find out.
* * *
THE NEXT WEEKEND Doug managed to talk Andrea into a drive-in movie. He congratulated himself on a near-victory. She was becoming easy. He’d be making love to her before the month was out.
The movie was billed as a drama and rated for teenage viewing, but the heat emanating from the screen had Doug squirming in his seat long before the film was over. Tom Cruise was gazing at the woman lying in his arms as if he could barely restrain himself from devouring her. Her look was innocent and hungry at the same time.
Andrea sat next to Doug, with a full two feet separating them, chewing on popcorn. Her eyes were riveted to the screen. She seemed indifferent to his presence in the car. So much for his near-victory.
Or so Doug thought. The first time she glanced his way, he figured she was just checking to see if he was enjoying the movie. The second time she could have been looking to see if he needed more popcorn. By the third time, it dawned on him that she wasn’t as immune to him as she appeared.
“Come here,” he said, pulling her across the seat. He put his arm around her shoulders and moved his leg until it was flush with hers. His denim rasped against hers.
“Aren’t we a little old for this?” she asked halfheartedly. Her eyes were still trained on the screen, but she didn’t make any effort to move away from him.
Doug decided not to push his luck with an answer.
He turned his eyes back to the screen in front of him, but try as he might, he couldn’t concentrate on the movie they’d come to see. He was too aware of the woman sitting next to him. She was wearing white jeans and a purple pullover sweater that outlined her full breasts to perfection. He ached to touch them.
She moved. Just a fraction of an inch. Just enough to rest the side of her hand against his thigh.
He tried to adjust his swelling penis into a less uncomfortable position.
She ran the tips of her fingers along the side of his thigh, so lightly he could barely feel the movement, and it was as if he’d had the breath knocked out of him. In answer, he trailed his fingers from her shoulder to her neck and up into her hair. He loved the way the strands of her hair slid through his fingers, almost like a caress.
Andrea’s gaze was still glued to the screen, but she tilted her head, moving into his touch like a cat looking for a reason to purr.
Doug lowered his head to her neck, running his tongue along the side she’d exposed, nipping her gently just above her collarbone. She smelled like roses and woman. He reached down to unbutton the fastener at the top of his jeans, giving himself just a little more room.
Andrea still held the carton of popcorn on her lap, but she’d stopped eating. She was clutching it against her like it was all that held her together, all that held her apart from Doug.
He touched her breast, palming it gently, stroking it with the pad of his thumb. Her nipple hardened almost instantly. Andrea moaned, sliding down until her head rested against the back of the seat. Her eyes were still on the movie.
He turned in the seat, cupping her other breast. A torrent of liquid heat built up inside of him, uncontrollably, as his fantasies finally took form and shape. He’d waited too long for her. His body was done waiting.
Her lips parted as her breathing quickened and he leaned over, opening his mouth over hers, sliding his tongue inside of her. He’d lost all track of time, of space, of where they were. All that mattered now was his pulsing body and the release it craved. All he asked for was that Andrea need him as badly as he needed her.
Her popcorn spilled all over the floor of his car as she reached up and wrapped both of her arms around his neck. She gave him kiss for kiss, wantonly mating her tongue with his, pressing her breasts more firmly into his grasp.
Doug slid his hand beneath her sweater, shaking with his eagerness to know her more completely. He’d been dreaming of her for so long he could hardly believe he was finally touching her—that she was welcoming his touch. That she was touching...
“Oh baby,” he groaned against her lips, lifting his hips up as Andrea’s hand pressed against the fly of his jeans. He was so full he ached, but her gentle touch brought such sweet pain he knew he’d rather die than stop her. She molded her hand to the length of him, squeezing him as he thrust against her. He felt his passion building, nearing its peak.
“Stop,” he said, holding her
hand still against him. “Not here. Not like this. Let’s go home. I don’t want to take this trip alone.”
Andrea pulled her hand back, clenching it together with the free hand in her lap. She scooted over on the seat—not very far, but much too far.
“What? What’s wrong?” Doug asked. He was going to lose his mind if she turned away from him now.
“I can’t, Doug.”
“What do you mean, you can’t?”
“I just can’t. It wouldn’t be fair. To either of us.”
“Fair? It wouldn’t be fair? My cock’s so hard I’m about to lose my mind, and you call that fair?”
“Look, I’m sorry. I know I was wrong to let things get so out of hand. I just wanted to make you feel good. I guess I got carried away.”
“You got carried away? You haven’t even begun to get carried away, baby. That I can promise you.”
“I can’t start anything with you, Doug.”
“You gonna tell me why not?”
“I tried this before, and I screwed up badly. I can’t go through it again. I can’t be responsible for putting you through it. I’ve already hurt two people I’ve loved.”
“You can’t just turn your back and walk away, Andrea.”
“Please don’t ask me to do this, Doug. You could talk me into it with very little effort, but I know I’d regret it.”
Doug sat in his seat, his arms folded across his chest, focusing on the screen in front of him. He had to get home, to take a cold shower, before his frustration made him say something he’d regret. This was not just about sex. Somewhere along the way Andrea had become his friend. And he had precious few of those, too few to want to lose one over a little pain in his groin.
“Then what was this?” he asked, wishing he didn’t need so badly to know.
“It was—it was...you turn me on, Doug. More than anyone ever has in my life....” He started to reach for her again, but she slid over to the other side of the seat. “But I also care about you, too much to make either of us into a one-night stand.”
Her words made no sense. “And you think that’s what we’d be?”
“It’s what we’d have to be. I’m not open to any other possibilities.”
“So what now? We just stop wanting each other? We just ignore what being together does to us?”
“I don’t think we have any other choice.”
Doug looked over at her, at the determination in her eyes, at the fear she probably didn’t even know was there. He was afraid to push her. He was afraid she’d never want to see him again.
He reached for his keys, started the car and drove her home, leaving her with a tender but chaste good-night kiss. He thought of the way Gloria had described her daughter before her divorce, how lively Andrea must have been then, how full of brimstone. And he vowed that someday, somehow, he would have that woman in his bed.
CHAPTER TWELVE
DOUG SAT IN HIS CAR thinking about Andrea as he waited for Jeremy Schwartz after school one Monday, about ten weeks into his first semester as a DARE officer. He wondered what he could do to get Andrea to take a chance on life again. If there was anything he could do.
The school buses had long since left, and the after-school crowd of kids dispersed by the time Jeremy sauntered outside. His ratty jean-jacket was slung over one shoulder, and he wasn’t carrying any books. He glanced around and then crossed the playground, heading out behind the school.
Doug got out of his car, shutting the door quietly behind him, and carefully followed the skinny blond boy. Jeremy cut through a couple of yards and turned into an alley a few blocks from the school. Doug kept a discreet distance as he headed down the alley after Jeremy, ducking behind dumpsters anytime the boy turned around. He didn’t blame Jeremy for keeping his back covered. The neighborhood on the other side of the alley wasn’t anything like the one they’d just left behind.
It still amazed Doug how quickly the scenery could change. How strange it was that the children of successful businessmen played with relative safety on their fresh green lawns just one block away from some of the city’s worst squalor.
Jeremy reached the end of the alley and headed up a street that hadn’t seen grass in at least a decade. Doug followed him.
“Jer’my, how ya doin’, boy?” a drunk called out from the doorway of a vacant building.
“Just cheesy, Butch, just cheesy.” Doug heard the sarcasm in the boy’s voice even if the drunk didn’t.
Jeremy walked on, nodding to some of the people he passed, avoiding others, until he came to another alley. It was deserted except for the overflowing trash bin that sat there. The boy dropped his jacket, approached the trash bin and weeded through it, coming up with an open coffee can. He set the can high on top of the pile of trash and backed up about eight feet. He bent down, picked up a rock, adopted a perfect basketball stance and shot the rock straight into the coffee can. Doug listened as four more rocks, one after the other, clinked into the can.
Jeremy continued shooting rock after rock, changing his stance, his angle, his distance from the can. And stone after stone met its mark with uncanny precision. Doug was impressed as much by his determination as by his talent.
He finally had a way to reach the boy, maybe even to help him. Doug walked out into the alley, picked up a rock of his own and lobbed it toward the can.
As the rock flew by him, Jeremy jerked, swung around and reached for the knife that was hidden at his waist.
Doug held both hands up and away from his body. “Hold on there, guy. I was just about to suggest a game of one-on-one at the Y, nothing else.”
Jeremy lowered the knife, but his defensive, belligerent expression didn’t change. He spat at Doug’s feet.
“Get lost, cop.”
Doug studied the boy for another couple of seconds, then turned around and left.
* * *
ANDREA PEDALED FURIOUSLY, barely listening to the news blaring from her television set as she tried to work off images of Doug in her apartment, looking so out of place at her glass-and-brass kitchen table, filling her living room with energy even when he was suffering from a concussion, lying in her bed, his bare chest—
Her doorbell rang, saving Andrea from following where her thoughts were trying to lead her. She slid off her exercise bike, panting heavily, pretending that her lack of air was due entirely to exertion from her physical workout.
She looked through her peephole, and was actually glad to see her mother standing on her doorstep with a package under her arm.
“Hi, Ma!” she said, flinging open the door. “Come on in.”
Gloria frowned, peering closely at Andrea. “You okay?” she asked.
Andrea took her mother’s free arm, dragging her into the living room. “I’m fine, Ma. Really. I was just riding my bike.”
Gloria frowned again as she glanced over at the exercise bike in Andrea’s living room.
“It’s not right, making your living room look like a gym. How’s a man supposed to relax after a hard day’s work with that thing staring him in the face?”
“So what man’s gonna be relaxing in my living room?”
Gloria harrumphed. “My point exactly.”
Andrea refused to rise to the bait. She didn’t have the energy to fight both the world and her mother.
“I bought these for you today. They were on sale,” Gloria said, handing Andrea the package she’d brought.
Andrea opened the bag hesitantly, knowing better than to get too excited. The last time Gloria had found a sale, it had been on the laciest, skimpiest teddies Andrea had ever seen. Her mother had bought seven of them. They were in one of Andrea’s dresser drawers with the tags still on.
“Ma! They’re beautiful!”
Andrea held up the oversize cotton shirt and leggings her mother had brought. They were black, with tiny silver studs outlining a striking leafy design from the right shoulder to the left ankle. It was an outfit Andrea would have bought for herself in an instant if she’d
been able to afford it.
It reminded her of Doug, of the silver-studded wristband he never took off.
Gloria was running her finger along Andrea’s coffee table, checking for dust.
“I did it yesterday,” Andrea said. “Ma, they weren’t on sale, were they?”
“It’s not polite to ask the price of a gift, Andrea.”
Andrea walked over to her mother, wrapping her arms around Gloria’s ample girth. “Thanks, Ma.”
“Mark and Amy are getting married.”
Andrea pulled back from her mother, too excited for her new friends to care about the accusation in Gloria’s words. “They are? That’s wonderful! When?”
“They haven’t set a date yet, but it’ll be soon, I’m sure. Someday you’re going to have to try it again, Andrea. I’d hoped it was going to be Mark, but just because it isn’t doesn’t mean the show’s over you know.”
“There’s no law that says a woman has to be married, Ma.”
“You’re not happy alone.”
“I’m happier alone than when I was married.”
“But that’s because you married the wrong guy.”
“I don’t want to discuss this anymore, Ma.”
“Isn’t there anyone, Andrea? Anyone who makes your knees just the least bit wobbly when you think about him?”
Andrea had passed the stage of wobbly knees weeks ago. She was into hot flashes and heart palpitations these days. “Nope.”
“No one, Andrea? Are you sure? You always went for dark hair. Don’t you know anyone with dark hair? Or what about eyes? All the guys you ever dated had brown eyes. Surely you can think of someone who attracts you?”
The image of Doug in her bed came back to haunt Andrea. If only Gloria knew how close she was....
“No, Ma. I don’t. Now just leave it alone.”
Gloria studied her, seeming to come to some decision.
“I’ll leave it alone if you’ll agree to meet Mabel Stewart’s brother. He’s moving to Columbus and he’s staying with her while he looks for a place to live.”
“Mabel Stewart from the supermarket? She’s your age, Ma! You want me to go out with someone your age?”
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