Back in Service

by Isabel Sharpe

  Not earrings.

  A ring. A stunning ring of diamond and sapphire chips set in a delicate curve. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Her breath came shallow; spots flew in front of her vision. She forced herself to relax, forced her breathing low. The spots cleared.

  “This ring symbolizes my promise to you, Kendra. I promise I will always come back to you. I promise that I will work hard to make you proud and I promise that someday I will ask you to be my wife.” His mouth curved in a devilish smile. “If you’ve stopped freaking out by then.”

  “What?” She jerked her head up from staring at the ring. And freaking out. “I’m not out. Freaking. No.”

  “You had hard work to do getting me out of my bad mood when we met this second time. I promise also to be that understanding and that determined with you.” He touched her cheek, his eyes filled with so much love she could barely look at him.

  “Which means, Kendra, when I ask if you’ll wear this, I won’t let you get away with saying anything but yes.”

  16

  MATTY DROVE EAST on I-10 toward Claremont, having just finished the Wednesday night performance of Backspace. She had the next day off for Thanksgiving, which, if tonight went as she hoped, she’d be tempted to skip at Mom and Dad’s. Her brothers were bringing girlfriends. This batch of females could surprise her, but so far Mark’s and Hayden’s judgment of a woman’s worth had been based on breasts over brains.

  So be it. She’d go of course, if only because she couldn’t leave Air Force–ditching Jameson to the wolves by himself.

  If tonight went as she hoped.

  Part of her was not happy with the chain of events that had led to her change of heart. Part of her felt she should have been able to trust Chris implicitly, and that when he’d insisted nothing had happened with Clarisse six years ago, she should have been able to believe him. But she had been a college kid, on pins and needles from the illicit circumstances of their affair, underexperienced and overwrought. Now, too much pain and time had passed for her to throw it all behind her.

  Her relief at finally hearing from Clarisse’s mouth the same truth she’d heard from Chris’s was so great that she couldn’t call it a mistake. Finding out she’d had been in the wrong all these years was remarkably freeing. Going forward, which she desperately hoped they would, she would do whatever she could to prove she trusted Chris now.

  A glance at the speedometer made her push her Kia a little faster. She couldn’t wait to get to Chris’s house and issue a heartfelt apology. And give him the present she’d decided on for both of them. And drag him into bed. And...mmm.

  Half an hour later, nearly trembling with excitement, she pulled up opposite his house and switched off the engine, took a little time to sit and think about this moment, six long years after their initial relationship, and how wonderful it was to finally cast off doubt, to stop fighting her feelings for this man, to realize he’d loved her all this time and that it had nearly cost him his sanity to let her go, thinking that doing so would be the best thing for her.

  Which, actually, given the possibility of such a happy ending now, it might well have been.

  Heart brimming, she patted her jacket pocket to make sure the paper was still there, even though she’d put it in herself an hour earlier and hadn’t touched it since. Out of the car, she gazed around her, then up at the stars, inhaling deeply, trying to take everything in, impress each detail onto her memory bank so she could return whenever she wanted.

  Heels tapping on the front walk, the sound echoing in the silent neighborhood, she hurried to his front door and rang the bell, unable to keep the smile off her face.

  Chris opened, scowling, did a double take, froze in what looked like horror, then swore viciously.

  Matty’s eyes shot wide. Whatever she’d expected, that wasn’t it. “Um. Nice to see you, too.”

  “I’m sorry, Matty. But my God. Fate is seriously effed up sometimes.”

  “Chris.” She stared at him, taking in his features, his pallor, the beginnings of fear waking in her system. Was he ill? “What do you mean?”

  He looked at her a moment with pain in his eyes she didn’t understand. Then he stepped back and gestured her inside.

  A woman. A girl. Beautiful. Brunette. Not naked, but sitting on the couch wearing a low-cut clinging dress short enough to get her arrested.

  “Jenny. This is Matty, who I was just telling you about. Matty, this is Jenny, who decided to stop by tonight because Satan must have told her you were coming to surprise me, so he could try to ruin my life for the second time in a decade.” He gestured in frustration, hair a rumpled mess, as if he’d been trying to tear it out all night. In a weird déjà vu moment, she remembered his reaction the first time around, with Clarisse. He’d sounded the same. Not guilty, not anxious, just pissed off. How had she missed it?

  The problem wasn’t with Chris. The problem was with circumstances and with her.

  “Hi, Jenny.” Matty kept her voice gentle. Her lips curved into a smile meant to terrify. Judging by Jenny’s deer-in-the-headlights reaction, it was working. “It’s awfully late to be visiting your professor on a school night, isn’t it?”

  “I needed to talk to him. He didn’t answer his phone.”

  “Because you never called me.” Chris’s voice had calmed some. She glanced at him and saw in his eyes what she might have been able to see if she’d spared him a glance six years earlier, if she’d done anything but pour all her fear and frustration and insecurity over their affair into anger and blame. Excusable? Yes, actually. Naked women in your boyfriend’s room didn’t make cheating an unlikely conclusion. But she could have taken a second look.

  In an ironic flash of insight she recognized now that the trip to see Clarisse had been a waste of time. Matty would have come to this same place on her own.

  She turned back to Jenny. “What did you need him for? Can I help?”

  Jenny shook her head, scowl almost as black as Chris’s.

  “Is there someone else who could help you?”

  “I guess.”

  “Maybe you could go find that person.” She smiled even more sweetly. “Right now.”

  Jenny stood and flounced past them, giving Chris a pleading look on the way out that six years ago would have reduced Matty to furious ash in three seconds. Now she just wanted to roll her eyes.

  The door slammed behind her.

  “Seems like a lovely girl.” Matty turned and gave Chris a thumbs-up, nodding as if they’d just decided to purchase a new car. “Nice legs.”

  “Mattingly.” He closed his eyes and gave a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “I can’t tell you what went through my mind when you came to the door.”

  “Let me guess. ‘Uh-oh’?”

  “A little stronger.”

  “I heard some of that.”

  “Right.” He stood straight, hands on his hips, looking so hot in jeans and a blue shirt that she wanted to pounce on him. “She’s a nice kid. Bad family situation. I was kind to her. She thought there was more to it than that, apparently.”

  “Plus you are so irresistible.”

  “Ha.” He blew out a shaky breath, looking at her, head tipped to one side. “What’s going through your mind, Matty?”

  “I wish last time I’d taken a moment to calm down and pay attention. I wish I’d trusted my instinct that what we had was strong instead of wondering how you could ruin it.”

  “You were young. Too young. I was old enough to take responsibility for how stupid we were being. I should never have let it go so far.”

  She shrugged. There was no point in blaming anymore. “We were both in it. But yeah, I wouldn’t have wanted to keep having to sneak around.”

  “That was awful.”

  She nodded, gazing at him, thinking tha
t in a strange sense tonight’s timing couldn’t have been better. She’d been able to show Chris her trust in a way that would mean a lot more than just telling him.

  “So with that hell out of the way, hello, Matty.” He dropped a kiss on her mouth, then another, then took her into his arms and kissed her soundly.

  “Hi.” She sounded like a breathless, ridiculously in love person. Which she was.

  “I wasn’t expecting you tonight.” He kept her close, kissed her temple. “This was a nice surprise.”

  “I went to see Clarisse.”

  “Huh.” His body stiffened. He took a step back. “Would you like a drink? Because I could use a double.”

  Matty giggled. “A drink would be really nice.”

  “Cognac?”

  “Perfect.”

  He strode over to his liquor cabinet in the dining room, poured two healthy shots into balloon glasses and offered her one, gesturing to the couch where Jenny had arranged herself so seductively. “Cheers.”

  “Cheers.” She sipped the fiery sweet liquid. Not yet her favorite, but a lovely indulgence to be drinking with Chris.

  “So.” He cleared his throat, put his arm along the back of the couch behind her. “What did Clarisse have to say?”

  “What I should have known all along. What you kept telling me. That you loved me. That you were never a cheater. That it cost you to let me go, but that you did it for me.”

  “Thank God.” His face relaxed; he closed his eyes briefly. “I was afraid she’d still be lying.”

  “I shouldn’t have had to talk to her.” Matty swirled her Cognac, then resolutely met his eyes. “Tonight I would have reacted the same way whether I’d gone to see her or not. It’s not nearly enough, but Chris, I am truly sorry I didn’t trust you.”

  “It wasn’t our time, Matty.” His voice was low, controlled, but the hope in his eyes nearly tore her in half.

  She put her glass down and took out the folded paper in her pocket, was about to hand it to him when he took hold of her shoulders.

  “I want this to be our time.”

  She met his kiss, melting into his arms when he wrapped them around her and pulled her into his lap. His mouth was hungry, demanding. Matty answered that hunger and made it clear her body was making demands of its own.

  In five minutes their clothes were off and they were straining frantically to join their bodies, giggling when the angles weren’t quite on target, when she wasn’t quite ready at first, then sighing blissfully when they got it right, when he found her and sank slowly inside. Their eyes met and held, communicating everything they felt for each other.

  He moved inside her slowly, holding back, letting their arousal build gradually until they were once again frantic for each other. Matty met and absorbed his thrusts until her own need to come was so strong she couldn’t delay anymore, even to keep this beautiful lovemaking going longer.

  They’d have time. Years and years...

  “Chris,” she gasped. “I’m going to come.”

  He moaned and ground himself into her, pushing her over the edge, then gave the hiss of breath that let her know he’d gone over with her.

  Yes. This was their time.

  They came down together, releasing the tension, laughing from the sheer physical and emotional joy of what they’d shared. Matty gazed up at him and the words she’d been holding on to for so many years came out as naturally as if she’d been saying them all along. “I love you.”

  “Aw, Matty.” He rolled to one side and pulled her to him tightly. “I’ve thought about saying that to you again every day for the past six years.”

  “Say it now.”

  “I love you.” He said it twice more, kissing her, then said it again, “I love you.”

  “Hmm.” Matty grinned at him. “I think this is what happiness feels like.”

  “I think you’re right about that.” He pushed back her hair, eyes warm and loving. “And I think you were trying to give me something when I jumped you.”

  “Oh! Yes!” She struggled up to look around them. “I took it out of my jacket. Where is it? A piece of paper.”

  “I don’t know. Is that...no.”

  “Did you take it from me?”

  “I don’t think so.” He sat up next to her, scanning the room and their clothes strewn around it. “Maybe it’s... No, not here either.”

  “We’ll find it.”

  “Tell me what it is.” He stroked up and down her back.

  “A coupon I designed. For a trip for two to Paris.” She was brimming with triumph and the pleasure of surprising him. “I sold two houses last week. And we’ve always wanted to go.”

  “Matty.” He looked stunned, exactly as she’d hoped he would. “That’s too much.”

  “What, you don’t want to go to Paris with me?” She shrugged, oh, well. “Okay. I can ask someone else.”

  “Wait, wait, I’ll go, I’ll go.” He shook his head, grinning at her. “If you let me help.”

  “I want to do this for us.”

  “But Matty, that’s a huge amount of—”

  “I know how much it is and I know how much I can afford. Take it or leave it.”

  He stared at her for a moment, clearly exasperated, then his face cleared. “I’ll take it. On one condition.”

  Matty narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “What’s that?”

  “That the trip is our honeymoon.”

  “Our...” She blinked, barely able to take in that he’d just given her all the reassurance she’d ever need, all the love she’d ever want with the only man she’d ever wanted it from. “You...”

  “Matty Cartwright.” He slid off the couch, got down on his knees and clasped her hands in his, stunningly naked, her man from now until forever. “I have never loved anyone the way I love you. Will you marry me?”

  “Yes. Yes. Oh, my gosh, yes.” She wrapped her arms around him, pulled his forehead up to hers. “I’ve always wanted a Paris honeymoon. And I’ve always and only wanted you.”

  17

  KENDRA STARED GLUMLY at the ceiling, splayed out on her couch with the TV still on. Happy Thanksgiving to her. Nearly noon. She’d been awake from her last fitful doze since six. Hadn’t been to the beach. Hadn’t organized for a drive up the Pacific Highway. During the past six hours, she had accomplished a couple of trips to the bathroom, one tooth-brushing session, quantity ingestion of junk food and a whole lot of quality angsting.

  Jameson had left the beautiful—so, so beautiful!—promise ring in its box by her bed, saying he wanted it staying there to tempt her. Yes, it had tempted her, jumping out of its box and onto her finger about once every ten minutes, until she’d gotten out of bed, driven to the 7-Eleven and bought every type of disgusting, unhealthy food she could find, then returned home and stalked into the living room, determined to escape the diamonds and sapphires taking over her brain.

  She wanted to accept the ring. Of course she did. But committing to eventual marriage was a huge step, and she didn’t feel she’d known Jameson long enough.

  They had fun together, they had similar taste, humor, outlooks, incredible sex. Jameson made her feel beautiful and smart and cherished and sexy as hell. They handled disagreements with care, respect and humor. He made it safe for her to take risks, if that made any sense. In the brief time since she’d known him again she’d realized how much of herself she’d held back, how much she’d been looking to the past instead of the future. Now she was ready to sell her car, get a dog and think about moving out of this house that she loved, but that had never and would never feel as though it belonged to her. Wasn’t that enough for commitment?

  Yes? No?

  Jameson seemed completely sure of her answer, which irritated her. How the hell did he know so much about her and what she
wanted and what she was feeling? She didn’t even know.

  Mom and Dad would know. They’d have sensible, practical advice that would make her worries and uncertainty seem silly. They’d say she was overcomplicating a simple yes-no situation. They’d tell her to follow her instinct. And when she told them her instinct was voting both pro and con, they’d insist one side was instinct and one was fear, and help her find out which was which. But Mom and Dad weren’t here. Which was probably just as well right now, because they’d have a fit at what she’d been eating.

  Not to mention she wanted to be left the hell alone.

  The doorbell rang.

  Oh, the irony.

  She shoved a handful of barbecue-flavor potato chips into her mouth and scowled at the front door.

  The doorbell rang again.

  “Go away.”

  Who the hell would show up at her house on Thanksgiving? Lena was with her own family at her sister’s house in Santa Monica this year—she was the only friend who’d feel she had the right to show up unannounced on a major holiday. Kendra’s clients didn’t know her home address.

  Jameson was...

  Oh, no. Not with her looking like the walking dead. And smelling worse.

  She got up and tiptoed to the door just as he started pounding.

  “Kendra. It’s me, open up.”

  Kendra groaned. Mr. Macho Military would probably break down the door if she didn’t answer. Her car was in the driveway; it didn’t take much to figure out she was home.

  Wait, she could be on a long walk...

  “Kendra.” He pounded again. She heard him muttering about going around to look for her in back.

  Fine. She opened the door. “Hi.”

  Jameson turned abruptly and ran back up the steps, his grin widening. He was carrying another beautiful bouquet for her: mixed flowers today, in autumn colors, burgundy, rust and gold. “Happy Thanksgiving, Kendra. You are beyond gorgeous this morning.”

  She grunted, absurdly glad to see him, but cranky and embarrassed to be caught looking like hell. “What are you doing here?”