First Dance - [Bridesmaid's Chronicles 03]

by Karen Kendall

  J.B. walked to the door of his office and picked up the blue rubber band again. He stretched it between his fingers. Viv's words had been her Tough Girl equivalent of saying that she was in love with him.

  The rubber band snapped back to its original shape and J.B. realized that he'd been very, very stupid yesterday. She had come as close as she humanly could to reaching out to him, to sharing with him.

  And he'd stood stock-still, unable to process it, only aware of her anger, her accusation that he'd taken revenge on the wrong woman.

  J.B. stretched out the rubber band one more time. Then he slipped it onto his wrist and walked out the door.

  "She's worth it," he said to his mother.

  She took off her glasses and rubbed her nose. "Well, it's about time you found one who is."

  He drove the few blocks to Marv's Motor Inn, unsurprised when he found Julia at the front desk. "Hi," he said quietly.

  She looked up and smiled her angelic smile. "Hi."

  "Can you call Viv's room for me?"

  Her face fell. "J.B., she's already left. I just got back from taking her to the airport."

  "I see." He hadn't considered this possibility.

  Julia hesitated. Then she said, "Oh, well. I did learn meddling from the Blue Ribbon Interference Queen herself: my sister Sydney."

  "Excuse me?"

  "So I'll just rip out a page from her book. Listen to me, J.B., Viv is special"

  "I know that."

  "She's got issues. Family and trust issues. But she is so incredible underneath that cool, tough, lacquered shell. And here's the thing. She came flying down here to protect me and get me to sign a prenup, for God's sake, but the person who really needs protecting is Viv herself. She needs protection from the hardening process that's going on in her. I hate what that job is doing to her, and I think she hates it, too. But she doesn't see any other way to live."

  She looked him square in the eyes. "I'm going to tell you something that she would actively kill me for revealing."

  "Shoot."

  Julia expelled a breath. "Yeah, that's what she'll want to do to me if she ever finds out. No, that wouldn't be personal enough. I'm pretty sure she'd want to throttle me and drown me in a toilet bowl."

  "I get the idea," J.B. said. "I won't betray you."

  "Okay. She told me that you are the one man in the entire world that she would marry without a prenup."

  "She did not," he said, grinning hugely.

  "Yes, she did," Julia insisted. "But she thinks you're still"

  "I am not in love with my ex-wife. Not even a little."

  "That's what I thought. So then would you do us all a favor and go get Viv? Shake some sense into her and tell her what you just told me? Before it's too late and she petrifies into stone or something?"

  "Yeah."

  "She needs warmth and love and a normal mom who'll stuff her with food, not that whacked-out countess who plays voodoo. I'm hoping she can borrow your mother."

  He nodded.

  "Well, what are you waiting for?" Julia asked.

  "Her address and phone number. That would help me out a lot."

  Viv stared at the ceiling of her Manhattan apartment and ignored the irritating buzz of the alarm clock, her mind far away. Finally Brooklyn's nose appeared from under the covers, where he always slept. Another push and wriggle and his entire head emerged. He blinked at her, pinned his ears back, and gave a sharp, staccato bark.

  "You're right. I need to get up and turn it off." She raised her head enough to kiss him on the nose but then flopped down onto the pillow again.

  Mannie, Ellis, Queenie and Longo joined in the barking and jumped all over her, licking and prodding her with their noses.

  "Okay, okay." She fumbled up onto her elbows, stuck a depressed toe out from under the blankets and found the floor. She staggered over to the clock and turned off the noise. How had it gotten to be 7:14 already?

  The dogs sat outside the door while she went to the bathroom and followed her into the kitchen while she started the coffee. They had obviously missed her while she'd been in Texas and now didn't trust her not to leave again.

  She opened the cabinet where she kept dog food and treats, sleepily amused when Mannie and Ellis stood on their hind feet like elongated, big-eared prairie dogs. She passed out five gourmet dog "bagels" and was rewarded with canine ecstasy.

  At 7:23 she poured her first cup of coffee, reflecting that in exactly two minutes she would receive a cranky call from Maurice, wondering why she wasn't downstairs and getting into the Lincoln for work. She'd given Tabitha the day off and sent an e-mail to Belker and Schmidt at midnight that she'd be in late but had an issue to address with them. She intended to quit.

  Right on schedule at 7:25, as she took her third sip of coffee, the phone rang. She picked it up, pressed the on button and said, "Vivien Shelton."

  "Miss Shelton, it's Maurice."

  "What a nice surprise, Maurice. How are you this morning?"

  "Late to pick up Mr. Fontaine, is how I am, if you're not down here within ninety seconds."

  "I'm so sorry, MauriceI didn't want to bother you after eleven last night when I got in, but I'll be going to the office late today." She could almost hear his scowl through the telephone.

  "Very good, Miss Shelton."

  Yes, it is, isn't it? It's about damn time I stopped having to look at Belker and his peeling, reptilian skin . She would now do all the pro bono work she wanted to do, spearhead the day-care project at the Displaced Homemakers' Association, and maybe start her own rescue shelter for greyhounds. She'd devote her life to good causes and animals, since she definitely hated all men.

  Viv took her coffee back to bed, a luxury to which she was not accustomed. She fell back asleep after a quarter of the cup, burrowing under the covers and surrounded by her dogs. An hour later she became vaguely aware of the phone ringing, but ignored it just like she had the alarm.

  It was almost certainly the office, and she had no desire to speak to anyone there. She just wanted to hole up and lick her wounds.

  Something had changed for her in Texas. She'd returned a different woman, tired and sad and no longer sure of her place in the world. Everything had_ tilted slightlynot upside down but enough to shift her center of gravity.

  The new tilt had to do with J.B. Anglin.

  Her phone rang again, insistently, but she just turned off the ringer.

  As she drifted into a sleepy haze again, it occurred to her that she didn't want to live in New York anymore. She loved the City and always would, but she'd been here too long. Maybe she'd rent out the apartment and go off to Taos or Santa Fe with the dogs

  Viv awoke an hour later and took a luxuriously long shower. She pulled on a simple skirt, tank and thong sandals, took the dogs out a couple at a time, and then headed to the office with a Diet Coke in one hand and her letter of resignation tucked into a beach bag she'd slung over her shoulder.

  She took a cab to midtown, relishing the smell of falafels and too much Stetson cologne on the driver instead of Maurice's wintergreen gum and putrid, tropical fruit carpet freshener.

  She smiled at Cleo, grimaced at Belky's gilt-strangled, framed sourpusses and cruised into his office without knocking. The door was open, but he was on the phone, barking at someone while pieces of his skin flaked onto his leather blotter.

  Ooooh, I am so not going to miss that.

  She sank down into his leather visitor's chair while he frowned at her and continued his conversation with the poor unfortunate on the other end of the line. He made no move to end the call.

  Viv took a sip of her Diet Coke and waited. And waited some more. She stared at a photograph of The Belk with his arm around a past governor of the state, and another photograph of him with a well-known socialite at a charity fund-raiser. Finally there was one of him grinning like a jack-o'-lantern at the attorney general.

  At last, thinking of all the times he'd done the same to her, she just started talking to
him, utterly disregarding manners and protocol. "Belker, I'm sure you'll feel that I should have run this by Human Resources first and checked to see if it's convenient with your schedule, but I'm leaving the firm." She slid her letter of resignation onto his desk.

  "What?" She finally had his attention.

  "I. Am. Leaving."

  "Harris, I'll call you back." And Belky hung up the phone. He steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair. "This is a sudden decision."

  "Yes." She didn't give him any reason; she'd make him ask.

  "You're going to be letting down a lot of people here. This firm has made an investment in you."

  Oh, you're going to try to guilt me into staying? You don't even like me, Belker . "And I've made an investment in the firm. I've sacrificed vacations, sleep and social life to billable hours, and I've brought Klein, Schmidt numerous clients. I would think that makes us even."

  "What firm are you going to? What have they offered you? We can match it."

  "I'm not going to any firm. I'm going to be doing pro bono work on my own."

  "Come on, Vivien. Don't BS me."

  "I'm being straight with you."

  "You expect me to believe that you're leaving a solid six-figure income to go play around with dogs and housewives for free?"

  "That's right."

  "Are you feverish, Shelton, or just stupid?"

  She stood up. "Neither. I'm just not happy practicing law here. And I don't care about the money."

  "Ah, yes, I'd forgotten: the heiress factor. I do hope that your people are selling a lot of toothpaste these days to support your little hobbies." He gave her a nasty smile.

  "That was completely uncalled for," said Viv, pouring her now-warm Diet Coke into the potted plant by his desk.

  His mouth opened in outrage and she derived great satisfaction from it.

  "You know damned well that you and the firm benefited from my family connections. So I'm not taking that kind of crap off of you, got it?"

  The little weasel had no response to that.

  "I'm taking the next couple of days off. Then I'll be back for two weeks so that we can assign my cases to other attorneys and smooth the transition."

  "I do hope you won't expect a reference from me."

  "Belker, I don't expect a thing from you besides the headaches you've always instigated. Now, goodbye."

  "Goodbye, Vivien. Don't let the door hit you in the butt on the way out."

  She was free! Free! Someone else would have to deal with drunken Klempt and crazy Mrs. Bonana. She'd no longer be taking the Maurice-mobile. And she could give all of her attention to causes that were dear to her heart. Viv hunted down Andie, told her the news, and gave her a hug, promising to see if she could place her somewhere else.

  She grabbed another cab to the Displaced Home-makers' Association on Lex and went in to talk with the director about the day-care program, funding and liability insurance. They sat down and began to draft a plan of action, Viv working feverishly so as to keep her mind off J.B.

  It was late afternoon when she finally headed back to her apartment to take the dogs for a walk in the park. Unable to handle all five at once like Tabitha somehow did, she took Brooklyn, Mannie and Longo on one run and then returned for another with Quee-nie and Ellis, who didn't take kindly to going second.

  She was so tired after the second run that she put on her jammies, collapsed on the sofa and fell asleep. Sleep would block out the stress of the day, the uncertainty of the future and her unwelcome thoughts about J.B.

  But Murphy's Law worked against her. Half an hour later, the doorman leaned on the buzzer and her dogs went nuts, barking.

  "Oh, for pity's sake," Viv said. "What?" Her tone was anything but warm and fuzzy.

  "Miss Shelton?" Timmy the doorman said. "There's a gentleman here to see you. Name of Anglin?"

  "No-he-is-not."

  "Yes, he is." J.B.'s voice came clearly through the intercom.

  He flew all the way from Texas to see me ? Viv tried to absorb this, blanched and cast a look of horror at her faded, crummy pajamas. Wait a minute. Who cared? She hated J.B. "Tell him to go away."

  A coughing, retching noise came through the intercom, and then Anglin's voice crackled through again. "He would go away, but he's choking on an apology. It's, uh, stuck in his throat. He needs you to come down and perform the Heimlich on him."

  Oh, ha ha. Very funny . Viv hung on to her sense of outrage that he'd used her for revenge. She hung on to her embarrassment that he'd seen her running down the driveway bare-bunned after his ex. J.B. was persona non grata.

  "As far as I'm concerned," she said, "he can go ahead and choke to death."

  "Damn, that is cold." Timmy's voice this time.

  She had to agree with him. Viv slumped over the buzzer. Yup. That's me, cold ball-buster . But the alternative was hurt. She'd told him she wanted to stay the night with him, and he'd kicked her out anyway. She'd made love to him, and given her heart to him, and he was hung up on another woman.

  "Vivien." It was J.B. again. "I am not in love with my ex-wife!"

  "I think you are," she said.

  "I'm not," he insisted. "I doubt I ever was in love with Corinne. I married her as the logical conclusion to years of dating. It was a rubber stamp."

  "But" you wanted to stay married to her."

  "Yeah, because I am one stubborn son of a bitch."

  "You chase rats for her, J.B.," said Viv sadly. "At two a.m."

  "Would you let go of the rats already? Rats are not dragons, and I am no white knight. I have been a chump. I have acted out of habit. When Corinne wanted something, I used to give it to her. She was the girl, I was the guy. I provided. Do you understand?"

  Viv was silent.

  "I have been a martyr for her. But worse, I've been self-righteous. I've been busy proving to the world and her that I'm a better person than she isthat I wouldn't turn my back on her when she needed something. Worst of all, I've just been stupid. Because I don't need to prove anything to her. I don't love her. I love you ."

  The breath caught in Viv's throat. "What?" she fi nally said, but her voice was gone and it came out as a whisper.

  "Hello? Did you get that? I. Love. You."

  She stood there stupidly trying to absorb the concept, and finally burst into tears.

  J.B.'s voice said to Timmy, "What the hell? You bare your soul, you tell 'em something that should make 'em happy, and they cry! I give up"

  "Don't give up," she said unsteadily. "Please don't give up."

  "You gotta meet me halfway, Viv. How about letting me past the door? That would be a good start."

  "He can come up, Timmy."

  "Hallelujah!"

  Moments later, she opened her apartment door to J.B. Anglin, who stood there in his Western boots, rumpled and unshaven. Viv's heart did a slow roll. Then it sat up and begged.

  She wiped at her eyes and held out her arms, but her dogs got to him before she did. They'd followed on her heels and immediately rushed him. Tails wagging, noses seeking, tongues slurping, they had their canine way with J.B. while he gazed ruefully at her, scratched their heads and patted them. "You gonna introduce me?"

  "Mannie, Brooklyn, Ellis, Longo and Queenie. Not necessarily in that order, since they won't stay still okay, guys, enough!" She pulled two of them back by the collars.

  Then she lunged at him and wagged her tail, too. He smelled like clean Texas air and mesquite, like heaven.

  "I'm so sorry, Viv," he said, and then he kissed her. All she cared about was the feeling of his lips on hers, the fit of his arms around her, the mysterious human chemistry that just spelled r-i-g-h-t. She didn't give a flip about his apology, only the fact that he'd jumped on a red-eye flight and come to find her.

  He raised his head and stroked her hair back from her forehead, then kissed her brow.

  She tried to swallow the emotional tidal wave that his simple affection brought, but she couldn't. She sobbed into the crook of his ne
ck, feeling like an unattractive wet dishrag, but unable to control it.

  "Viv," J.B. said, "I didn't use you for revenge. I swear I didn't. I set out to, it's true. But somewhere along the way, I lost my heart to you."

  When she could take a breath, she asked, "Why did you kick me out, then?"

  He sighed. "You mentioned the prenup issue again, and it triggered years of pent-up frustration in me. All of a sudden it hit me: Here I was trying to change yet another woman, force her to fit into my life, when we had such different values. I thought I could change you from a cynic into an idealist like me. And there you were, being as cynical as they come. I just thought, screw it! What am I doing?"

  She wiped her face with her pajama sleeve. "So what are you doing here? I can't help but love you. You say you love me. But I am who I am. You are who you are. I live in Manhattan. You live in Texas."

  "Vivvie," he said slowly. "What is a cynic, really, but a disappointed idealist?"

  She stared at him. "Come sit down," she said.

  They walked into her living room, with its comfortable sectionals and purple cushions. They sank down into the upholstery and he took her hands in his.

  "I can't change you, honey," J.B. told her. "But I can watch as you transform yourself. I can be amazed and honored at the trust you put in me, and I can promise to never let down that trust.

  "When we had sex the first couple of times, you came alone with your eyes closed. The last time, you came for me and with me, looking right into my eyes. I'm still floored by that, by how beautiful that moment was."

  His hands tightened on hers. "That was making love. And what did I do? After my big song and dance about you missing out on the best part of sex I was a total bastard and lost my temper, kicked you out. That was some afterglow, wasn't it?"

  She looked away.

  "I'm sorry," he said again. "And you wanted to stay. I couldn't have hurt you worse if I'd tried."

  Viv leaned forward and kissed him. "So when you say that a cynic is a disappointed idealist, you mean ?"

  "I mean that I'm going to take the disappointment out of your life, Vivvieat least regarding men. If you'll let me. I'll bet you'd look real cute in a pair of rose-colored glasses."