Uninhibited (Unlikely Lovers)

by Brooks, Cheryl

  “I can’t do that, and you know it. Ned would go out with his little slut girlfriend, and Mandy and Jeremy would be left alone.”

  “He wouldn’t leave them alone on Christmas. Ned might be a lot of things, but he does care about his kids.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Janice admitted. “Just wish I could talk with him about something besides them. We used to talk about lots of interesting things. Now it’s just depressing shit like retirement plans and whether or not we’ll die in the poorhouse after putting the kids through college.”

  “Planning for the future is a good thing. At least he’s thinking about it.”

  “Yes, but not all the time. I mean, you can only plan so much. You’ve got to live a little bit in the now.”

  Perhaps having a girlfriend was Ned’s way of living in the now. Janice was active in school and community activities. Her husband’s infidelity might only be a symptom of his need for companionship.

  Emily certainly hadn’t been living in the now or she’d have stuck around with Alan. He was so lonely he picked up strange women in parking lots. Shifting in her chair, she recalled the way his warmth had surrounded her. He hadn’t been all that crazy. Perhaps she should give him a call or send him an email.

  What would it be like to have a man who wanted sex six or seven times a day? How long could he go before he’d had enough? Would she ever know? Then again, he might not make it through one time with her.

  Now, there’s a lowering thought. Still, he’d had that boner... What was she thinking to have left him like that?

  “Look, Janice, I’ve got to go now.”

  “Okay. So you’ll be here for Christmas?”

  “Sure thing. Try to keep Ned happy until then—you know, let him screw you a few times. Maybe he’ll forget about the slut.”

  “Are you kidding? Reward him for cheating on me? No way!”

  “I guess you’re screwed either way, then, huh?”

  “You’re a big help,” she muttered.

  “A little sex now and then wouldn’t kill you, Sis. You used to like it—or at least you said you did.”

  “Yeah—when I was young and single. I don’t think about it anymore. I have too much to do.”

  “Famous last words,” Emily quipped. “Look, if you want to stay married to him, you need to show him some affection. I know he can be an asshole, but you knew that when you married him. If it didn’t stop you then, you must really love him.”

  “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  Emily laughed. “Don’t sound so committed. You’ve got nothing to lose by trying to kiss and make up.”

  “Pride maybe?”

  “Look, either you want him, or you don’t. Just do me one little favor?”

  She let out a groan. “What?”

  “Don’t cheat on him with someone else. If you want to divorce him, do it, but don’t cheat. Let it be his fault, not yours.”

  “Divorce?” she exclaimed. “Who said anything about a divorce? I don’t want to put the kids through that!”

  Emily stifled the urge to gloat. “You really don’t want to get rid of him, do you?”

  “Sometimes I do,” she admitted. “When he’s being an ass.”

  “Which is what? Most of the time, some of the time, or rarely?”

  “Lately, it’s been most of the time. I don’t talk with him at all unless I have to.”

  “Maybe that’s the problem. Talk to him. Hell, strip for him. You never know, he might actually like it.”

  “Ha, ha, very funny,” she said with a snort. “No fuckin’ way.”

  At thirty-six, Janice was still a hot little number, tending toward their mother’s petite brunette type while Emily favored their sandy-haired, green-eyed father. If Janice went to The Mouse’s Tail with the guys, she’d be the star of the show. Emily couldn’t imagine what it would be like to take off her clothes for a roomful of drooling men, straddling their laps and teasing them into a frenzy. Would it be harder to strip for strangers or people you knew? Emily had no idea, but it wouldn’t surprise her if Janice did. Emily would never have the nerve to find out.

  After saying their goodbyes, Emily flipped open her laptop and went in search of Alan’s email address.

  She couldn’t find it. Knowing it had to be in her purse, she dumped out the contents, searching through the pile of receipts from her Christmas shopping. The closest thing she found to a napkin was a slightly used Kleenex, and there certainly wasn’t a phone number on it.

  God was out to get her for something she’d done—perhaps for deserting Alan in his hour of need. She scowled at her computer. Actually, it had been her hour of need more than his. He’d been coping reasonably well. She’d been the one having a meltdown.

  Just when I was beginning to care again.

  She slammed her laptop shut. “Fuck it, I’m going to bed.”

  * * * *

  “How about one of those soybean and alfalfa sandwiches?”

  Alan glanced up to find his cousin grinning at him over the counter. “That’s tofu, hummus, and alfalfa sprouts, you bumpkin.”

  Travis shrugged. “I still say it looks like something you’d feed a horse.”

  “You would know,” Alan retorted. “How’re the ponies?”

  “Great. Should have three foals in April. Miranda’s happy as a clam.”

  “I’ll bet she is.” Alan wrapped up the last sandwich and tossed it on the pile. “Got time for lunch?”

  “That’s why I’m here,” Travis said. “I might need more than sprouts, though. I had some tough ones to shoe this morning. Three jumpy Thoroughbreds and an Arabian stud with an attitude.” He arched a brow. “Hey, how come you’re making the sandwiches? Aren’t you the boss?”

  “Yes, but Howard is out sick, so I’m on deli duty.” Alan shrugged. “It’s the price I pay for fame and fortune.”

  “Uh- huh.” Travis nodded toward the cashiers, all of whom had at least three customers in line. “Business looks good.”

  “It always is this time of year. Everyone’s getting ready for their New Year’s resolutions to eat healthier.”

  Alan had been managing the Farmer’s Foods grocery for ten years, and he’d noticed all sorts of peculiar trends. Normally, his customers were what he liked to think of as the nouveau hippie population. During the holidays, however, the clientele was a bit more eclectic.

  “I’m glad you’re here, man. I really need to talk.” A year ago he’d been giving Travis advice on why he should steer clear of married women. Now, Alan had a problem he had no idea how to solve. He set the plate of sandwiches on the cold buffet, grabbing a couple of them along with two bottles of water before motioning for Travis to have a seat in a nearby booth.

  “Fallen off the wagon?”

  “In a manner of speaking.” Alan sat down and twisted open one of the bottles, taking a long drink before continuing. “You’ll think I’m crazy when I tell you what happened.”

  “I already think you’re crazy, but that’s beside the point. What’s up?”

  Alan unwrapped his sandwich, pausing before taking the first bite. “I think I might have fallen in love.”

  Travis had swallowed most of a sip of water, otherwise he probably would’ve sprayed it all over the table instead of choking on it. “You really are nuts. You know that, don’t you?”

  Alan handed him a napkin. “I’m not kidding. The thing is, I may never see her again, and I don’t even know her name.”

  “Well, that’s one way to keep from falling off the wagon.”

  “True,” he conceded. “I gave her my name and phone number—even wrote down my email address, but I bet I never hear from her. She was kinda depressed—at least I think that was her problem.”

  “I never knew depression was such a great catalyst for love.”

  Alan grimaced. “It isn’t. There was just something about her. She was sitting in her car out in front of Bennie’s Ice Cream Emporium—you know, the place I go to every week? Anyway, once I sa
w her, I had to talk to her. Got a little too close to her, too.”

  “And she slapped your face?”

  “No.” If he’d had to guess, he’d have said slapping him had never crossed her mind. “She actually sort of tolerated me.”

  “That’s a first.” Travis took a bite of his sandwich, chewing it slowly. “I’m trying to think what kind of woman would tolerate you. A nymphomaniac is the only sort that comes to mind.”

  “Maybe. We never got that far.” He paused, frowning. “She said the ice cream made her sick, though. Maybe it was me that made her sick.”

  To his credit, Travis didn’t agree. “If she really wanted you to get lost, she wouldn’t have put up with whatever it was you did.”

  Alan closed his eyes, remembering the feel of her in his arms. “I was standing behind her with my arms around her and rubbed her butt against my boner. She didn’t move away immediately, and I did apologize for being too pushy. She said it bothered her, but not the way I’d think.”

  “And she didn’t slap you senseless?” Travis chuckled. “She really must’ve liked you.”

  “Maybe. I still can’t figure out what she meant by ‘not the way I’d think.’” He stared at his sandwich as though it held the key to her psyche. “I told her about my rotten luck with women. Her stories weren’t much better.”

  “Let me guess, you told her you can’t get enough, and she said she wasn’t getting any. Am I right?”

  “Kinda.” He didn’t want to tell Travis everything she’d told him. That would be betraying her confidence.

  Yeah, right. Telling her story to a perfect stranger was pretty safe, especially when Alan had no idea who she was.

  “Sounds like a match made in heaven.”

  “I hope I’ll see her before I get there.” Unfortunately, the odds were against it. “I had my damn phone with me. I could’ve taken her picture and posted it on Facebook. Somebody might know who she is.”

  “Maybe,” Travis said with a shrug. “And maybe it wasn’t meant to be.”

  Alan arched a brow. “My, aren’t we philosophical today. Are you gonna help me or not?”

  “Okay, okay... What did she look like?”

  Just thinking about her made Alan’s dick hard. “About five-six, luscious body, thick shoulder-length sandy blonde hair—about the color of yours, actually—gorgeous green eyes, and a bewitching smile. When she smiled, that is. Oh, and she did say she was thirty-two.”

  Travis sat there for a moment. “I can’t think of anyone like that. Did she say where she worked?”

  “No.” The breath he blew out seemed to deflate his whole body, including his dick. “Pretty hopeless, huh?”

  “Probably. Looks like you’re gonna have to wait until she tries to find you.”

  “Yeah. I’ve been checking my inbox so often my phone’s about to die on me.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “I need to get a better answering machine, too. Stupid me, I didn’t give her my cell number.”

  Until recently, Alan had resisted getting a cell phone, figuring he didn’t need one since he usually at home, out running, or at the store. He didn’t want to be bothered when he was running—or eating Bennie’s ice cream—and everywhere else had a phone. Small wonder that number hadn’t come to mind when faced with a desperate situation.

  “Nothing you can do about it now,” Travis said. “I’ll ask around, but Pemberton isn’t exactly a one-horse town.”

  “Tell me about it. I am so screwed.”

  Travis snorted a laugh. “Not yet.”

  * * * *

  Emily knew the exact moment when the change began. She’d been listening to her friend Kathy’s story about her husband’s desperate attempts to keep squirrels out of their bird feeder, only to wind up with the fattest, most well-fed squirrels in town. While laughing along with the others, her mood took a noticeable upward swing, which persisted into the next day. Suddenly, she was her old self again, filled with energy and desire—even vacuuming her house without trying to talk herself out of it.

  The cause was a mystery. Kathy’s story wasn’t the only thing she’d laughed about in months. Had she eaten anything different? Were the planets in better alignment, or was it simply a delayed reaction to meeting Alan? Maybe she was finally getting into the Christmas spirit. She had no idea, but it was real, and it stayed with her.

  Now if I could only find Alan’s number...

  Sure, he was a little strange, but she’d liked him, and he was cute, in a scruffy sort of way. Then there was the prospect of sex. Being with a man who wanted that much sex would certainly be fun—even challenging. She might even be able to make up for lost time.

  Unfortunately, catching him when he got another craving for ice cream was akin to winning the lottery. She’d had her chance, and she’d blown it. Still, there was always the mysterious Mitch. Perhaps they would meet at the office party, fall madly in love, and live happily ever after. Stranger things had happened to even stranger people. There was still hope.

  And there was the phone book! Snatching it up, she flipped to the J’s. He should be easy to find. Alan Paul Ryan John. How could there possibly be more than one?

  Unfortunately, there were none—at least, according to the phone book. He was either unlisted or one of the many people who only had a cell phone.

  If I’d only told him my name.

  After a bit more fruitless searching, she wound up calling her mother.

  “I hear you’re going to Jamaica,” Emily began—though without the proper degree of enthusiasm.

  “We got the most amazing deal,” her mother exclaimed. “We simply couldn’t pass it up.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Once again, she sounded less than enthused. “When are you leaving?”

  “The twentieth. I thought we might have our Christmas get-together when we come back on the twenty-eighth.”

  “Janice seemed to think we’d be doing Christmas without you.”

  Her mother let out a snort. “I’m not surprised. Honestly, ever since all that crap with Ned and the hooker, she’s been so melodramatic.”

  “Hooker? The little slut puppy was a hooker?”

  “That’s the way I heard it—although my information might not be accurate.”

  Knowing her mother, Emily suspected she’d gotten her info from the hooker. “Janice seemed to think she was Ned’s girlfriend.”

  “That’s bullshit. Janice was picking him up downtown one night, and some hooker was all over him, soliciting. Trust me, Emily. It was nothing.”

  “I must have missed that part—maybe Janice did too. She was making a big stink about it—even wanted me to tell Ned she’d been screwing Jeremy’s math teacher.”

  “Is she really?”

  “Well, no—at least, I don’t think she is.” Then again, she might have been jumping all over Ned to keep herself from looking bad.

  “If you ask me, she should stay home and screw Ned now and then. It might solve a few of their problems.”

  Emily chuckled. “That’s what I told her.”

  “All that running around, doing stuff for everyone except her own family. Poor Mandy went out with a group to a football game the other night. Janice was supposed to meet them at Steak ’n Shake afterwards to pick her up. She was late, and Mandy was embarrassed because everyone else was getting milkshakes, and she didn’t have any money. She was being silly, of course, but you know how those young teenagers are. If Janice had been thinking at all, she’d have given Mandy some money to spend before she left home. The poor girl was crying in the restroom, and the other mothers kept going in to check on her, trying to find out what her problem was.”

  In Emily’s opinion, Mandy had always been too sensitive for her own good, although everyone had flaws. “I’m sure Janice got her squared away in no time—or thought she did.”

  “The poor kid will probably be scarred for life.”

  Her mother was joking, of course. Still, Emily wouldn’t have been surprised if Mandy wound up
with an unreasonable fear of milkshakes, never setting foot inside a Steak ’n Shake again. She could understand how it might happen. After all, one limp dick had Emily avoiding men like the plague.

  “Speaking of being scarred for life, are you over Chad now?”

  “Maybe,” Emily replied. “I’ve got a date on Friday—sort of. What does one wear to a gentleman’s club?”

  “Nothing?”

  “No, really, Mom. I’m serious.”

  “Hmm…something innocent but sexy. Think Kathleen Turner in Body Heat. Sure, it was only a skirt and blouse. The way she wore it made the difference.”

  “Remember who you’re talking to, Mom. I’m no Kathleen Turner.”

  “Dunno about that. You’ve got the same hair.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You’re much prettier than you think you are,” her dear mother assured her. “Remember that.”

  “I’ll try.”

  Alan had liked her hair. Crazy little Alan whom she’d probably never see again.

  Damn.

  Chapter 5

  By the end of the day on Friday, Emily had given up any hope of escaping Stephen’s birthday party. Each and every one of the guys checked to see if she was still going, and when she went home to change her clothes, the limo was there to pick her up before she’d even decided what to wear.

  “What you’ve got on is fine,” Dillon assured her.

  She glanced down at the sweater and skirt she’d worn to the office. “You’re sure? Shouldn’t I wear something a little dressier?”

  “Hey, it’s a skirt.”

  Men… “Okay. What’s the plan if I decide to leave early?”

  “The limo will take you home,” he promised. “We really appreciate you doing this, Emily. We know we’re asking a lot.”

  With a sigh, she snatched up her coat and purse and followed him out to the limo. Squeezing into a car full of men was weird—although the birthday boy seemed even more uncomfortable than she was. A blue-eyed blond somewhere in his late twenties, Stephen was normally very shy—certainly not the type to get drunk with the guys and hoot and holler at strippers. His weak smile made her wonder how they’d talked him into this party in the first place.