“Max’s dad, Patrick.” The man standing on the unmoving treadmill next to Rory actually held out his hand and looked like he expected Rory to shake it. While he was running.
A thin, scholarly type, dressed in disheveled business casual with loafers on his feet rather than sneakers, it came as no surprise the man lacked basic comprehension of appropriate gym etiquette.
Rory gave him a nod of acknowledgment, sorry he hadn’t brought his earbuds. Of course he would have if Neve had told him the truth about where he’d be spending his next hour. “Rory,” he introduced himself.
“Who you here with?”
“Neve.”
“Yeah.” Patrick smiled a knowing smile. “Saw you two arrive together.”
Then why’d he ask?
“I bet that’s why she hasn’t called.”
So this was one of the assholes bothering her.
“Army?”
Gee, brainiac, what gave it away? The camo pants? The muscles and military-short haircut? Or the word ARMY spelled out across the front of the pale green T-shirt? Rory increased the speed of his treadmill. “Yeah.”
“How long have you and Neve been together?” Patrick asked, finally getting his treadmill moving at a speed slower than Rory’s ninety-year-old grandmother walked.
“Look, buddy, I’m trying to exercise here.” And keep an eye on Neve.
“Okay.” Patrick stepped off his machine and turned it off, apparently meeting his daily requirement of two minutes of nonstrenuous exercise for the day. “Just one more thing.” He stood in front of Rory, blocking his view. “You okay with her seeing other guys while you’re off…doing whatever it is you do?”
“You mean fighting a war? Killing the bad guys?”
“Yeah, that.” Patrick started to look nervous. “Because she does.” He eyed the distance to the hallway. “See other guys. When you’re not around.”
This guy was a total weasel. Rory hated weasels. Placing both hands on the railings, he jumped off the side of the treadmill. “Our relationship is none of your damn business,” Rory told Patrick, walking toward him. “But I’m guessing by the fact she hasn’t called you, you’re not one of the guys she’s seeing. So take the hint and back the hell off.”
Talkative Patrick stood frozen, suddenly not so talkative.
“Rory!” Neve called from below.
He leaned over the Lucite half-wall to look at her.
“Everything okay up there?”
Just peachy. “Yup.”
“What are you doing?”
“Exercising with my new friend, Patrick.” Who’d apparently run away as soon as Rory had taken his eyes off of him. Alone again, Rory got back on the treadmill, mostly to keep from going after that asshole to get details. Names. Dates.
Had she been dating other guys the whole time she’d been writing him? And if she had, why’d she feel it necessary to lie about it?
Shouldn’t matter. They were only friends. Wasn’t his concern what Neve did with other men.
Then why did Patrick’s claim bother him so much?
Increasing the speed on the treadmill, Rory pushed himself until talking would be difficult, even if he wanted to. All the while he watched Neve. Her smile. Her toned legs and tight ass. Not an ounce of fat on her. The way she interacted with her young students, encouraging them and cheering each little accomplishment, laughing, dancing, and singing with them. Giving lots of right-arm-only hugs and high-fives, brushing off their boo-boos when they fell and drying the occasional tear.
“She’s great with them,” Lil said, handing Rory a cold bottle of water and a hand towel as she joined him to watch Neve and her class down below.
He shut down the treadmill, rubbed the cool condensation from the bottle across his sweaty forehead, then opened it and took a few swallows. “Yeah…she is,” he said between panting breaths. Funny thing, whenever Rory had pictured Neve teaching gymnastics he’d always imagined her with the older, competitive gymnasts, yelling out commands, honing skills. The cool coach loved by her teenage students. He’d never once considered that she’d be such a natural with the little ones or that she’d seem to have as much fun with them as they had with her.
“All the kids love her. Big and little.” Lil turned to face him. “The parents too. Some more than others.”
Not that it was any of his business, but…“She date any of the parents?” He wiped his face with the towel.
Lil shook her head. “Never. She’s a consummate professional, tells me every time she’s approached, to make me aware. Some men take her refusal better than others. Look at her.”
The topic of their conversation was presently on her knees with a big smile on her face, hugging each of her students goodbye.
“She’s every man’s fantasy, beautiful to look at, strong and graceful, confident and independent. Flexible. The things she can do with her body.” Lil shook her head. “And daring, never afraid to try new things. I’m sure you’ve seen her dance videos. She’s mesmerizing.”
Yes indeed.
“Most people get so fixated on her external beauty, they miss the beauty of the person she is inside.”
Not knowing what to say or do, Rory nodded.
“She’s got a mind of her own, though.” Lil smiled. “And that temper?” Lil shook her head again. “She’s not easy.”
“That’s for sure.” Rory smiled back, his hand coming up to rub his throat.
“She tells me you’re staying with her for a few weeks.”
“Just helping her out.”
Lil looked like she wanted to ask, With what? but she didn’t. “She’s never brought a guest with her to the studio before, only her partner, Luca, and only for practice.” Lil’s eyes met his. “I’ve never seen her bargain and negotiate with anyone but her brother. She cares about you.”
And he cared about her too, like a good friend should. “We’re friends.”
“If she’s letting you stay with her I’m guessing you’re more than just friends, Rory.”
Honestly, at this point he didn’t know what the hell they were.
“It’ll take a strong, very confident and trusting man to handle her and all the attention she attracts. Are you that man, Rory?”
Thank goodness Neve called his name just then, giving him an excuse not to answer. He bent over the railing instead.
“Would you bring down my stuff?”
She looked exhausted and had begun to limp.
“Sure thing.”
When he started to move Lil placed her hand on his arm to stop him. “Neve is like a daughter to me. She trained here from elementary school through high school, did you know that?”
Rory shook his head.
“Stopped by whenever she could during college. She’s something special, even though she doesn’t see it.” Lil’s eyes met his. “Do you see what I see in her, Rory?”
That he could answer, easily. “Yes. But we’re just friends, Lil.” Soon he’d be returning to Boston and she’d be traveling the world with Cirque du Soleil. He’d eventually settle down with some nice Irish Catholic girl approved by his mother and she’d…he had no idea what Neve would be doing or where she’d be doing it or if he’d play any role at all in her future.
He’d been avoiding thinking about a future without Neve in it.
“Go on.” Lil patted his arm again. “Your friend is waiting.”
Neve got dressed without complaint, but she moved slowly and didn’t say one word. Not like her at all. At the car she handed him the keys, then climbed into the passenger seat. “Make a right out of the parking lot.” She strapped in. “Then a left at the traffic light.” She leaned back and closed her eyes. “Saw you talking to Max’s dad. What’d he have to say?”
“Nothing much.” Nothing of any value, just enough to make Rory wonder. He drove out of the parking lot.
Eyes still closed, Neve explained, “I met him at a bar. He looked so sad, drinking alone, staring off into space. I felt sorry for him, s
o I went over to try to cheer him up. We started talking. His divorce had been finalized that day. He admitted he’d screwed up, took the blame for the relationship falling apart.” She let out a sigh. “I admired him for that.”
She wouldn’t have admired him if she’d heard his babble up in the exercise loft.
“Anyway, we hung out the rest of the night. He seemed nice, way different than my usual type of guy.”
“Usual type?”
She opened her tired eyes. “Good-looking. Outgoing. Funny. Sexy. Macho, for lack of a better term.” Then closed them again. “Maybe leaning toward dangerous bad boy.”
Not to be conceited, but check, check, check, check, and check…at least in his opinion. He’d have to work on the dangerous bad boy.
“Anyway.” Neve shifted in her seat, taking the weight off her right hip, which obviously bothered her. “I brought him home for a pity fuck—at the time, my idea of a good deed.”
Ouch.
“Huge mistake. In all my drinking that night,” she covered her mouth as she yawned, “I must have missed the warning signs of a man looking to replace his wife.”
“How long ago?” Rory had to know.
“Well over a year. Soon after, he found out where I work and signed his son up for my classes.”
“And he brings you gifts and leaves them on your front stoop.”
She didn’t deny it.
“He come banging on your door in the middle of the night?” Rory should have hit him when he’d had the chance.
“No. He’s more of the call-me-crying-when-he’s-drunk type. And don’t look at me like that. I didn’t give him my home number.”
Since her eyes were closed, she couldn’t actually see the look he’d shot her. But she’d assumed correctly.
“I don’t know how he got it.” She opened her eyes long enough to see where they were. “Three lights, then turn right on Maple. Follow that down to my complex on the right.” Then she closed them again.
This guy stunk of stalker. “Do you want me to have a talk with him?” Rory could be very convincing when he wanted to be.
She didn’t answer.
He waited.
Still nothing.
He looked over.
She’d fallen asleep. A sleep so deep she didn’t stir when he lifted her out of the car, carried her inside, and tucked her into bed. She slept the rest of the afternoon, giving Rory time to familiarize himself with all of her hand-drawn wall-hangings and go in search of the one item he didn’t want her to have access to during his visit. Finding it in the first place he looked, Rory hid it at the bottom of his duffle, smiling as he did, looking forward to the moment she found it missing.
Chapter 11
Three days later, Neve took a sip of Riesling, the one treat she’d allowed herself in weeks, as she stared at the television without watching it.
“You okay?” Rory asked, sprawled out beside her on the couch, bare feet up on the coffee table, relaxed, not a care in the world.
No, as a matter of fact she was not okay. Five days after coming home from the hospital, she’d expected to be back to full function. Forget jogging—simply walking to the mailboxes at the far end of the complex tired her out. Forget practicing her dance routines—the most basic movements, bending to pick up something or climbing the one step onto her porch, leading off with her right foot, still caused twinges of pain in her right pelvis.
She couldn’t work out on her pole or do pull-ups because of the PICC line. Luca would be home in nineteen days. Between the bone marrow donation, the flu, and the post-op infection, Neve hadn’t worked out in over a month and was nowhere near the shape she needed to be in to give her best performance. And all her inactivity had allowed two unwelcome pounds to show up when she’d weighed herself that morning, putting her two pounds above her performance weight. But what would complaining accomplish? “I’m fine.”
Rory put his feet on the floor and leaned forward, trying to make eye contact. “How’d the call with your mom go?”
“Fine.” Her parents were having a fantastic time, loved cruising, and were making lots of friends. Blah, blah, blah. Life is good. Miss you.
“You tell them about everything going on?”
“Only the audition.” Mom had done most of the talking. Neve took another sip of wine. “I’ll tell them the rest when they get home.” Maybe.
“How’s Brooke?”
“Happy.” In love. Gone from Neve’s life for good.
Jeez. Dramatic much?
Rory shifted on the couch to look at her. “Then what’s wrong? And don’t say you’re fine, because I can tell something’s bothering you.”
Everything bothered her lately, starting with being cooped up in the condo so she and Rory didn’t run into any of her old “friends”—especially the very large, very territorial, increasingly aggressive Adam. And she wasn’t used to actually living with another person, having someone watch her every move, every single waking minute of every single day. Then, of course, there was the massive clock that’d taken up residence in the back of her mind, ticking and tocking down the seconds to her audition, a constant reminder of the date fast approaching, a constant reminder she wasn’t near ready.
What if she couldn’t get back into shape? What if she blew this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to pursue her dreams? What if she lost this one chance to change her life? What then?
Rory pulled her onto his lap. “I know what’ll cheeah you up.”
She wanted to scream, “It’s ‘cheer,’ not ‘cheeah,’ say the damn r,” because even his accent was bothering her tonight. But she didn’t.
He nuzzled close to her ear. “Let’s make out.”
“Stop.” She pushed him away. “That will do the exact opposite of cheer me up.” Because that was one more thing that’d been bothering her—Rory running hot one minute, cold the next. Every time they started kissing and touching he’d called a halt to the fun right when they got to the good stuff. Worried about her hip, he’d say. Didn’t think she was ready to have sex so soon after being discharged from the hospital. News flash, when a woman says she’s ready, she’s damn ready!
After spending their first night home from the hospital together in her bed, he hadn’t slept there since—or done anything else there, for that matter. He always had an excuse: “I’m not ready to go to bed yet.” “I’m not tired.” “I’ll just toss and turn, and I don’t want to keep you up.”
Well, enough. Neve climbed off his lap and stood. “I’m going to bed.” Tonight she left the living room without bothering to invite him to join her. In the bathroom she struggled into her waterproof PICC sleeve without asking for help, filled the tub, and got into it, alone.
Even that didn’t relax her.
But she knew what would.
Back in her bedroom, Neve finished her glass of wine, locked the door, and opened the drawer in her nightstand, reached inside, felt around.
Opening the drawer all the way, almost pulling it clear out in her haste, she did a visual inspection. Condoms. Lube. Nipple clamps. Pepper spray. A man’s tie and assorted other crap, but not…
Hmmm. She sat on the bed. What could have…? “Rory,” she yelled, hurrying to her door, then down the hallway. “Give it back.” She held out her hand.
He tilted his head up, still sitting on the couch, looking way too innocent. “Give what back?”
Neve slammed her hands on her hips. “You know damn well what. My vibrator! If I don’t have it in my hand by the time I count to three,” she held out her hand palm up, “I am going to strangle you. For real. Don’t think I’ll let your bulging eyes and blue lips stop me. I’ll keep going until I squeeze the life right out of you.”
“For a vibrator,” he said calmly. “You need it so bad you’re willing to commit murder?”
A bit excessive maybe, but desperate times and all, plus his constant rejection, made her mad.
“What makes you think I have it?”
Oh, he had it
all right. “Because it’s not in the drawer where I always keep it. And the only two people who have been in my bedroom recently are you and Nate, who would rather cut off his hand than touch something that’s been inside of me.”
Rory stood, cocky confidence replacing his innocence of a moment ago. “Honey, I told you if I were here you wouldn’t need that vibratah, that I’d meet all your needs.”
“Well, you haven’t been doing a very good job of that, now, have you?”
He smiled, which got Neve thinking of ways to wipe that smile off of his face. Permanently.
“Come here.” When she didn’t move he walked toward her.
“You stay away from me.” She jabbed her finger in his direction for added emphasis. “You’ve had your chance, multiple chances.” Invitation after invitation, all met with rejection. Neve wasn’t used to that and didn’t like it one bit. “I’m done letting you start me up only to leave me hanging. I get it. You want me, but you don’t want to want me. Fine. But—”
“Wait,” Rory said, holding up his hand. “What? I want you but I don’t want to want you? What kind of nonsense is that?”
“You won’t sleep in my bed. We kiss and play around. I can tell you’re aroused.” Worked her hardest to get him that way. “Then quick as this,” she snapped her fingers, “something clicks in your head and you stop. ‘We can’t do this,’ ” she mimicked, none too nicely. “Well, why the hell not? Now that you’re thinking clearly you’ve decided I’ve been with too many guys before you? I’m not good enough for you? Afraid you’ll catch something?” Neve didn’t regret much, but she did regret being so honest with Rory about her past.
“Neve—”
That calm, placating tone of his grated on her last raw nerve. “Don’t Neve me. I can’t figure you out, and I’m done trying. So please,” she held out her hand, palm up, again, “give me my vibrator so I can go take care of myself like I’ve been doing for the last fucking year!” Okay, that part sounded like it came out of the mouth of a completely out-of-control crazy person.
Calm it down, Neve.
“I’m not returning your vibratah.”
Simple as that. Calm as can be. Something dangerous started to pulse behind Neve’s eye. The rage that made her do bad things started to build. “I have had a rough couple of weeks, Rory McRoy. I would not mess with me right now. I’m teetering on the edge.” Wound tight, ready to snap. Apparently all this start and stop then going to bed unsatisfied, night after night, had tripped her crazy trigger.
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