Prima Donna

by Drewry, Laura

  “No.” Jayne’s one syllable dragged out into about four before she finally huffed out a sigh. “It’s a Volvo.”

  Carter kept his head down, but Regan didn’t miss the way he choked back a snort. Ben, on the other hand, grunted hard and deep.

  “You won’t go out with a guy based on what he’s wearing or what he drives? What a shock you’re still single.”

  Regan blinked slowly and ground her teeth together, choosing to ignore him and talk directly to Jayne. “I’m sure he’s great, but he’s obviously looking for someone who wants to be ‘Mrs. Athletic Director,’ and we all know that ain’t gonna be me, so why bother? I mean, come on, I bet he’d have our children’s names picked out by the second date.”

  Again, she ignored Ben’s muttered remark, but she couldn’t miss the way Katie gave him a sharp jab with her elbow. After a second, Jayne’s dramatic sigh gave way to a slow smirk as her cheeks pinked up.

  “Well, crap. Now what am I going to do?” she chuckled. “You don’t like Leon, Maya’s totally faking it with Brad—am I really that bad at this whole matchmaking thing?”

  Regan moved her gaze from Jayne to Katie and back again. “I’m hoping that’s a rhetorical question.”

  Katie laughed, but Jayne just blushed deeper.

  “Go ahead, laugh now, but one of these days we’re going to find you someone who’ll make you rethink the whole marriage and family thing, and you’ll be swept off your feet so fast and so hard, you won’t know what hit you.”

  “Yeah…no thanks.” Regan groaned, shaking her head. “I prefer to keep my size sevens planted firmly underneath me.”

  “We’ll see,” Jayne mused, chewing the inside of her cheek. After a few seconds, she perked up and nudged Carter’s shoulder. “Thanks for fixing his hair. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s sweet and all, but sometimes it’s just…wow!”

  “Sweet? Who cuts it?” Regan’s question was drowned out by Nick’s voice as he wrapped his arms around Jayne and grinned.

  “Is it midnight yet?” He leaned down and nuzzled her neck until her cheeks flamed and she gave a halfhearted attempt to squirm away but only succeeded in bumping into Carter.

  “Get a room,” he grunted, pushing them away.

  “Got one,” Nick grinned, his hazel eyes twinkling. “But Jayne won’t let me get her naked until you guys leave, so anytime you’re ready to go…”

  “Nick!” Jayne cried, but he just laughed, wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and ushered her back into the living room.

  “Is it just Leon?” Katie asked, her brow puckered slightly. “Or is it the general idea of marriage that freaks you out?”

  “It doesn’t freak me out,” Regan said. “It’s just not something I want.”

  “But how can you say that if you’ve never experienced it?” Katie lifted a cheese-filled chip and fed it to Ben like he was a two-year-old.

  “Well, I’ve never experienced smallpox, either, but that doesn’t mean I want to run out and infect myself.”

  Carter chuckled, but Katie ignored him.

  “I’m serious,” she said. “You probably just haven’t met the right person, that’s all. One day you’re going to meet The Guy; the one you can’t stop thinking about, the one who puts up with you when you’re in full-on bitch mode, and who thinks you’re the most beautiful thing in the world, even first thing in the morning.”

  She tucked her hand under Ben’s and smiled when he kissed her temple. “Look at Nick and Jayne—they’ve seen each other through some really ugly times and they couldn’t be happier.”

  “Hardly a fair assessment,” Regan teased. “Life, in general, tends to work out for the almighty Scotts of this town, but for the rest of us who are mere mortals…”

  Katie grinned back at her, but Ben’s scowl only deepened. One day that man was going to have to grow himself a sense of humor. Regan picked at the label on her bottle, took a second to breathe, then shrugged.

  “Look, I’m sure when you decide to fall in love, it’s all unicorns and candy hearts, and everyone’s happy to promise the moon and stars. But things change, people change, and you can’t expect anyone to—”

  “Whoa.” Katie straightened up so fast, she knocked her head into Ben’s chin. “You don’t decide to fall in love, Regan, it just happens, and sure, things change, but you adapt, work through it. It’s not always easy, but once you open yourself up to it, there’s nothing better. Your turn’s coming, just you wait.”

  Regan’s snort was loud and harsh. She’d just as soon let her turn pass, thank you very much, and there was no way she was going to wait for anything ever again. She’d done enough of that growing up. Every month, she’d waited for those two days after payday when there was finally food in the house before the rest of the money went to paying down the tab at O’Malley’s. Every night, she waited for her mom to stop crying so they could both go to sleep. And every day for the last seventeen years, she waited for her dad to come back.

  “Thanks all the same,” she said, shaking the memories away. “But I think I’ll just stick with the way things are. I don’t expect anyone to put up with me when I’m in full-on bitch mode, and I have no interest in putting up with them when they are.”

  With a little effort, she tried to smile at Katie, but there was no denying it was a pathetic attempt.

  “Besides,” she joked, circling her face with a wave of her hand. “No one except me sees this first thing in the morning, because if anyone found out how much work it takes…”

  She didn’t hear exactly what Ben muttered, but it must have been bad to have Katie elbow him again.

  “What?” he grunted. “She’s like some kind of…I don’t know…like a prima donna or something! She won’t go out with a guy because he drives a Volvo, or wears khakis, or…I can’t even remember what was wrong with the last guy she went out with. She’s got more issues than National Geographic, that one.”

  “Ben!”

  Regan stopped the rest of Katie’s mortified cry with a lift of her hand. Keeping her voice low, so not to cause a scene at Jayne’s party, she leaned over the table a little and stared Ben in the eye.

  “You don’t know anything about me or my issues, Ben, and last I heard, you were still an insurance salesman, not a psychologist, so why don’t you do us both a favor and keep your Dr. Phil–wannabe bullshit theories to yourself?”

  Carter would have sprayed beer all over the table if Regan hadn’t shoved a stack of napkins at him. Katie squeezed her mouth shut, grabbed her husband by the sleeve, hauled him off his chair, and shoved him toward the living room.

  Silence fell over the room as Carter mopped up the rest of his beer, his eyes fixed on Regan, his mouth curved into one of his slow smiles.

  “For the record,” he said, holding his hand up, “he and I are only related through marriage so it doesn’t really count.”

  Regan leaned back in her chair and huffed out a long breath. “What the hell does she see in him?”

  “Aw, Ben’s okay. Just a little intense.” He set his bottle down, then leaned on his elbows. “So…a chick who’s not into the whole picket-fence and minivan scene. That’s different.”

  “I’m not a chick.”

  “Right. And where do you stand on running off to join the Church?”

  “Not Catholic, either.”

  “Excellent.” His eyes warmed, teasing her. “Then we’ll have no problem just using each other for sex.”

  “Ohmygod.” Half snort, half laugh, Ben forgotten, she twisted left, then right, making sure no one else had heard him. “What is wrong with you?”

  “Hey,” he said. “I’m not saying we should get down to business right here on Nick’s kitchen table, but—” He was cut off by his phone ringing in his pocket. Reluctantly he glanced down at the display and sighed. “Sorry, I have to take this.”

  He hustled out of the room and down the hall, the phone pressed against one ear, his free hand pressed against the other. “Dr. Scott here.”
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  Just as well; Regan needed to get going anyway. She slid off her chair, set her plate and empty bottle by the sink, and turned to go just as Jayne came barreling toward the kitchen.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” It wasn’t even a lie. Despite Ben, and despite her mood when she’d first arrived, the party hadn’t been half as horrid as she expected it to be, and that was mostly thanks to Carter. “Thanks for inviting me, but, uh, I’m gonna go.”

  “You can’t—” Jayne stopped in mid-argument, which wasn’t like her at all. “I’m sorry about Ben. He’s…well, he’s Ben.”

  “I’m not leaving because of him. I just have to go.”

  “We’re lucky she stayed his long.” Maya walked up behind Jayne, dismissing the whole conversation with an odd, gentle smile and a wave of her hand. “She’s usually on the couch with New Year’s Rockin’ Eve blaring from the TV by now. She’s weird.”

  “I’m not weird,” Regan chuckled, shrugged. “I just…whatever. Maybe I’m a little weird.”

  “Okay.” Jayne’s mouth twisted, her eyes narrowed. “I’ll get Nick to walk you home.”

  “It’s five blocks, Jayne, I’ll be fine.” From the corner of her eye, she caught Nick pushing to his feet, but with one pointed look from her, he grinned and sat back down. She flicked a quick glance at the bachelors, offering them each a quick nod. “Nice to meet you both. Happy New Year, everyone.”

  A spattering of Happy New Years followed her and Jayne to the door.

  “Sorry about Leon,” Jayne whispered. “I guess he wasn’t the best choice for you.”

  “Ya think?” Regan teased. “I appreciate the effort, really, but I’m not looking for a Leon, or an anyone, for that matter.”

  “I know, but—” Jayne stopped, sighed. “Fine.”

  “Thank you. Talk to you tomorrow?” With a quick parting hug, Regan walked out the door and headed into the night.

  She’d done a good job of holding it together at Jayne’s, but now she could breathe normally again. She could stop pretending she was fine, that it wasn’t a big deal her salon was closed, and that going home was just one of her quirks. No matter how well-meaning her friends were, none of them needed to know she was, in fact, not fine, or that losing her salon was like losing a huge part of herself. And they sure as hell didn’t need to know the real reason she always spent New Year’s Eve at home.

  The clouds from earlier in the day lingered, making the dark seem gloomy, almost spooky, and though the wind wasn’t sharp, it gusted in great heaves, pushing her forward at first, then shoving her back a second later.

  Within five minutes, she was walking past the giant Nativity scene lit up in front of her apartment building. Mr. Brandt insisted it was sacrilege to take Christmas down before the first of the year, and with the amount of work that went into setting the scene up, Regan was surprised he didn’t just leave it up all year.

  In her favorite red flannel nightshirt she washed up, clipped her hair back, and headed to the couch to watch the countdown, her phone clutched in her hand. Last New Year’s Eve, she had her own business, a steady income, and a guy she saw on a semi-regular basis. One short year later, she had no business, no income, and no guy. The business and income she missed. The guy—not so much.

  Hugging one of the throw cushions against her stomach, she hit Speed Dial 2 on her phone and waited for one of the nurses to pick up.

  “Hi, Lynn, it’s Regan Burke…Fine, thanks. How’s Mom?” She hadn’t even realized she’d been holding her breath until it came out in a rush. “You’re sure?…Okay…She does? But she never wants to talk to me…Well, yes, of course, if you think she’s up for it…Right. I just don’t want to upset her…If you’re sure…Yeah, I’ll hold.”

  Her mom rarely wanted to talk to her, so why tonight? Did it mean something? It was New Year’s Eve after all. Maybe it was a good thing; a breakthrough. Or maybe—

  Muffled voices on the other end, a hard clank, then her mother’s voice barking out Regan’s name.

  “Hi, Mom—how are you doing?” Regan pressed the phone tight against her ear as if that might help her pick up on the slightest waver in her mom’s voice. Nothing. “Yeah? I was up at a New Year’s party…no, by myself…he wasn’t there…because we broke up last summer…No, I didn’t cheat on him. Mom…Mom…I swear I didn’t do anything to him, we just didn’t belong together…It wasn’t anyone’s fault…Mom…Mom…okay, I’m sorry, you’re right. You’re right. It was my fault.”

  Regan would have agreed to anything if it calmed her mom down a little.

  “Tina said they were serving ham tonight…No she’s not, she wouldn’t do that…Tina likes you, Mom, she’d never try to hurt you…yes, I talk to her every couple of days—that’s because you don’t usually want to talk to me.”

  She let her head fall against the back of the couch and squeezed her eyes tight. “I’m sure if Dad called, she would let you know; she wouldn’t keep him from you…no, he hasn’t called me…I didn’t do that, Mom…no I didn’t—”

  On the other end of the phone, her mom berated someone walking by her chair. It only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough time for Regan to steer the conversation toward something a little less inciting than the topic of her father.

  “Have you been getting outside much? The weather’s been so nice…Uh, no, Mom, I don’t think they’ll agree to that…of course I want to see you, but…no, you’re right, we’ll ask.”

  Again, she waited for the slightest hint from her mom that tonight was going to end the same way it had on four other New Year’s Eves, but so far, there was nothing out of the ordinary, and this was the longest conversation she’d had with her mom in years.

  From the sounds coming through the phone, someone in the TV room must have taken the chair her mom wanted, which meant Regan had only a few seconds before her mom would hang up.

  “I love you, Mom…No…I never expect you to say it back. I tell you so you know…okay, sorry…Happy New—”

  The line went dead and she let the phone drop to the couch beside her as she heaved out another breath. It hadn’t gone too badly, and it didn’t seem like her mom was on the edge of doing herself any harm, so it was probably safe to ring in the New Year now.

  The countdown party was in full swing on the TV; a bare-chested rapper stomped his way across the stage while thousands of screaming partiers danced around him, everyone decked out in toques, mitts, feather boas, and huge sparkly plastic glasses Elton John would envy.

  Less than a minute left on the clock.

  She couldn’t honestly say she was surprised when the knock sounded on her door. She didn’t expect it, hadn’t hoped for it, and yet she didn’t have to look through the peephole or ask who was there.

  She already knew.

  She also knew she’d let him in because if there was one thing she wanted right then, it was a good long distraction.

  Chapter Three

  “It’s not my fault!”

  Han Solo, The Empire Strikes Back

  Regan stood in the open doorway as the TV counted down the final seconds of the old year. Carter didn’t say a word; he didn’t even move until the party horns blared, the fireworks blasted, and Regan took a step back. With his dark eyes fixed on hers and a slow grin pulling at his lips, he moved toward her, filling her space, crowding her until she backed into the wall.

  God, he smelled good.

  “How come you left?” he asked, his voice low.

  “Reason number three.” She clutched the pillow against her stomach, wrapping her arms around it so tight she could feel her own ribs beneath. “I always do New Year’s at home.”

  “Right. I forgot there was a reason number three.” He pressed his hands flat against the wall on either side of her head, his long, leisurely gaze taking in every inch of her face, her hair, her neck, before it gradually settled on her lips. “But we’re both here now, so can we cross that one off the list?”

  “I, uh, I suppose.
”

  He hadn’t even touched her and still she shivered. Oh, who was she kidding—that wasn’t just a shiver, it was a full-body shake that took hold of her lazy-ass libido and Tasered it to attention.

  Ho. Lee. Crap.

  “And if I’m remembering this right, reason number one had something to do with a polo-shirt-wearing jock who was on the hunt for a wife. Can I cross that one off the list, too?”

  “Definitely.” A couple hard blinks later, Regan mirrored his cocky little grin.

  “So that just leaves reason number two.” His mouth twitched slightly, his eyes crinkled at the edges. “Something about locking body parts…”

  “No body parts,” she corrected slowly. “You said lips o—”

  Carter caught her bottom lip between his, waited until her words faded to nothing, then kissed her; soft, gentle, and oh-so-freakin’ slow. He kept his hands flat against the wall, his body close—very close—but never touching. Warmth built to a heated flicker, and then to full-on ignition that rocked Regan off balance. She curled her toes against the floor and fisted her hands deeper into the cushion, but it didn’t help, and when Carter finally slanted his mouth over hers, strong, hard, taking the kiss deeper, it was all she could do not to slide down the wall into a puddle.

  She tried to catch the sigh before it vibrated out of her throat, but her traitorous body wouldn’t respond; not to her, anyway. It had no trouble responding to him, to the warmth of his hands, so close to her neck, and to the promise of what he would do if only he’d touch her.

  What the hell was he waiting for? Didn’t he…oh, right. He wasn’t going to touch her, just kiss her, except there was nothing “just” about this kiss, especially when he slid his tongue slowly across her bottom lip like that, teasing and tormenting her with a taste of—

  Wait. What? Was he pulling away? Oh, no no no.

  Regan dropped the cushion and arched off the wall, leaving her without any support, teetering on wobbly legs, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t done yet. Carter backed up, his hands raised in the air, keeping a whisper of space between them, but he didn’t stop kissing her.