by Wendy Wax
They ate in silence for a few moments, but the silence was mostly companionable, if you didn’t count the depth charges going off in her stomach.
Matt lifted his wineglass and took a drink. His didn’t seem to be going empty anywhere near as often as hers was, and she wondered idly if his glow was keeping pace with hers.
“So what happened with you and Joe?” he asked.
“James.”
“What?”
“His name was, I mean his name is, James.” She eyed her wineglass and the untouched tumbler of ice water sitting next to it, torn.
“Okay, so what happened with James?”
Olivia reached for the wine. “I’ve been living with you for five days now, Matt; I know you read the newspapers. Surely you know the whole sordid tale.”
“I tend to read news, not gossip columns. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”
She took a sip of wine and finished the last of her potato before dabbing at the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Just your usual unwelcome brush with infidelity.”
She watched him watch her and was surprised to find no smirk on his face or laughter in his eyes.
“So everything was great and then, boom, out of the blue he’s sleeping with someone else?”
Funny that no one had ever asked her that question before. Even she had avoided looking too closely at what had come before the unavoidable knowledge of the affair. Good old dependable unexciting James, chosen because he seemed the direct antithesis of both her father and Matt, had turned out to be so not what she had expected.
“No, I just wasn’t paying attention.” Because she’d been so busy burying herself in work and trying not to admit that supposedly safe and solid added up to dull and boring. “I’m a therapist. I help other people find answers, but I seem stupendously unable to do the same for myself.”
She took another swig of wine and told herself that the warmth in Matt’s eyes was also wine induced. Still, she felt something stir between them. “It would appear I’m somehow not enough for the men in my life.”
“Ah, Livvy. You’re more than enough for any man. You’ve just had the misfortune to attract selfish oafs who can’t leave you alone even when they know they should.”
“Hmmph.” A lethargy invaded her limbs and she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze from his face. It was a fine face, good and true and strong. And at the moment it was completely focused on her. “My mother hasn’t been enough for my father for almost thirty years now, which makes me think it might be hereditary.”
She blinked and looked at her wineglass, aghast at the truths slipping out of her mouth, and unable to comprehend how her glass could be empty again. She reached for the bottle, intent on maintaining the warm, hazy glow that had wrapped so snugly around them, but Matt put a hand on top of hers.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, Olivia, but maybe you should take it a little easier on the wine.”
She tingled at his touch. “You think I’ve had too much to drink?”
“I know you’ve had more than you’re used to.”
“Never felt more in control in my life,” she said. She tried to wink at him, but her facial features no longer seemed to work independently. “You should consider going into counseling. You’re not bad to talk to.”
“Now I know you’ve had too much.” His smile caused her heart to perform a funny sort of flip-flop. Her limbs felt too heavy for her body, and she could hear a loud whooshing in her ears, which seemed to be the blood rushing through her brain.
“Except for JoBeth’s boyfriend. You’re making a real mess of that.”
“Am I now?” He didn’t seem at all upset by her criticism. In fact, his voice felt as warm and wonderful as a caress.
Olivia picked up her empty wineglass and tilted it around, searching for something to drink. She eyed the little that was left in the bottle with disappointment. “Are you going to drink that last bit?”
She squinted her eyes to try to get rid of the extra Matt swaying in her line of vision, as the roaring in her ears grew louder. Lifting her napkin to dab daintily at her lips, she somehow jammed it into the side of her nose, then stared at the napkin in confusion as it drifted out of her fingers and fluttered to the floor.
“Oops.” That definitely couldn’t be her giggling, because she detested women who giggled. Enunciating very carefully in an effort to maintain some semblance of dignity, she said, “Can you excuse me for just a minute? I seem to have dropped something.”
Then her bones melted beneath her skin, and without warning, she slid off her chair and landed in a heap at Matt Ransom’s feet.
18
Matt watched her disappear, and for a minute or two he sat and chewed, assuming she’d surface when she found her napkin. By the time he finished his last bite of potato, it occurred to him that she might be injured or unable to get up.
Since his back was already to the Webcam, he slid his chair back and lowered himself to the floor, out of camera range, where he found Olivia sitting beneath the table, her napkin in her lap.
“You okay?”
“Absolutely.” She waved the napkin airily at him but made no move to get up.
“Olivia?”
“Umm-hmm?”
“We’re sitting on the floor under a table.”
She nodded solemnly, her eyes wide.
“You realize this is not usual after-dinner behavior?”
“ ’S’okay. I don’t feel usual.” Her smile was crooked and went straight to his heart.
As he took in the surprising sensation, she got on all fours and crawled over to sit beside him. She sat so close he could feel the shallowness of her breathing and read the intention in her wine-clouded green eyes even before she tilted her lips up toward his.
She kissed him, and his entire body hardened. Without thought he reached out and pulled her closer.
Looping her arms around his neck, she crawled into his lap, where she pressed her breasts against his chest.
“God, Livvy.”
She took his hand in hers and guided it up under her dress, where he discovered just how little separated him from the place he most wanted to be.
He groaned. “Tell me you’re not wearing the thong.”
“Sorry,” she breathed in his ear, though it was clear she wasn’t. “Didn’t mean for you to know.”
He ran his hands over the smoothly rounded buttocks, down the silky thighs, and back up to cup the triangle between her legs. With his thumb he manipulated the sliver of satin until she moaned and the strip of material grew damp.
Hot and hard, Matt went up on his knees to bring their bodies closer together and banged his head against the kitchen table—knocking some sense into his lust-filled brain.
“Olivia.” With his lips welded to hers, his voice was muffled, and he had to open his mouth wider to try again. At which point she slipped her tongue through the opening to search for his.
“This is not a good idea.” He must have hit his head harder than he’d realized, because that seemed to be his voice sounding the note of reason.
Olivia didn’t bother to respond verbally, but her non-verbal responses couldn’t have been clearer. Her thumb traced the curve of his ear, while her tongue found and parried with his. Her breasts splayed across his chest, their hardened nipples pressing intimately against him, until all he could think of was pushing her onto her back and driving himself inside her. Under the table. In the middle of the kitchen. With an Internet audience wondering where in the hell they’d gone.
Matt halted the kiss. He bracketed her face in his hands and turned it up to his. She was all of the things he’d been angling for all week: dazed, confused, and totally hot for him. So why did he feel so reluctant to take advantage of the opportunity?
He stared down into the trusting green eyes and groaned inwardly. “Olivia, we need to stop this right now.”
“But I want you,” she mumbled, somehow managin
g to sound more sad than surprised. “Always wanted you.”
He saw her eyes lose their focus and watched her head tilt sideways. Then she yawned, tucked her head up against his chest like a kitten seeking comfort, and went completely limp in his arms.
Some of the starch went out of him then, too. The pounding of his heart slowed, the heat that possessed him cooled, and the throbbing in his loins dulled to a mild ache. He stroked her hair and dropped a kiss onto the silken top of her head. As she snuggled more tightly against his chest, he gathered her in close.
Then he did the only thing he could think of on the spur of the moment: He dragged her out from under the table and slapped her gently on both cheeks while mouthing, “Olivia, are you all right?” for the benefit of the Internet audience. Then he slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carted her off to her bedroom, where he managed to rouse her long enough to pour some water and two Tylenol down her throat before tucking her into bed.
JoBeth stopped beside Dawg’s table. Reaching into the pocket of her apron, she asked, “What’ll it be? I’ve got Zantac, Pepcid AC, or the old standby.” She dropped a packet of Alka-Seltzer onto the tabletop.
“Can I take all of them?”
“Don’t see why not. You’ve had everything else on the menu.”
Dawg put a fist to his mouth and belched discreetly. “That I have, darlin’. And I have to admit I’m a mite full.”
“Dawg Rollins, you were ready to explode two hours ago. I’ve never seen a man pack away that much food in one sitting.”
“That’s what desperation’ll do for you. Thank God you’re off the clock. I don’t think I could have held that table for another minute.”
“Well, Ina’s bound to wonder what’s going on, but I doubt she’ll complain about a ticket this big. I’ve got a doggie bag packed for you to take home.” She grinned evilly as she pressed the brown paper sack into his hands. “In case you get hungry in the middle of the night or something.”
Dawg groaned. “It is the middle of the night, and even if it weren’t, I don’t plan to eat ever again.”
They walked together out into the empty parking lot, and JoBeth looked around in confusion. Her car sat under the streetlamp where she always parked when she worked nights, and the cook’s battered pickup sat a few spaces from it, but there was no sign of Dawg’s bright red Jeep.
She eyed him suspiciously. “You don’t look like a man who thinks his ride has been stolen. What’s going on?”
“Had a friend drop me.”
“Oh, really?”
“Now don’t get that angry tone going, JoBeth. I knew I wasn’t leaving the diner without you, and I didn’t see any reason to juggle cars.”
“You are entirely too sure of yourself, Dawg. If you think you can eat your way back into my good graces, you are sadly mistaken.”
“All I’m hoping for is a chance to talk, JoBeth. I spent more than six hours eating; don’t you think I’ve earned the right to be heard?”
JoBeth took out the keys to her twelve-year-old Cadillac. “Fine. I’ll drive while you talk. But don’t even be thinking romance.”
“Get real, woman. I’ve been eating for six hours, I don’t have a romantic inkling in my body.”
He held the driver’s door open for her like he always did, and JoBeth brushed by him to take her seat. Outwardly she remained cool, but her insides felt all warm and gooey. The man had eaten a refrigeratorful of food just to be near her; in her book it didn’t get much more romantic than that.
The Cadillac caught on the second try, and JoBeth gave it a little extra gas before putting it into gear.
“Don’t forget to take the car in to Joe for servicing. He told me he thought he could take care of that starter for you.”
“I won’t forget, Dawg.”
She drove through the parking lot to Magnolia, where she took a left and merged into traffic. Even at this time of night, people in Atlanta seemed to be on the run. She flipped the radio on to WTLK, and for a startling moment Matt Ransom’s voice filled the car. She grimaced, and when Dawg didn’t comment, she turned the radio off. The last thing she wanted to hear right now was whatever stupid thing Ransom might have to say.
She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “So. What did you wait so many hours to tell me, Dawg? It’s late, and I’m ready to call it a night.”
“I thought it might be time to talk about marriage.”
JoBeth’s heart slammed into her chest. Was this the conversation she’d been waiting for all this time? She smoothed her hair behind her ears and licked her suddenly dry lips.
“You know, the concept of it and all.”
JoBeth exhaled the breath she’d been holding and felt her shoulders slump. That didn’t sound like the beginning of any marriage proposal she’d ever heard of.
“I’ve never talked too much about my marriage to Suzy. I don’t even like to think about it. But you need to understand why I feel the way I do.”
Dawg kept his eyes on the road in front of them. When she looked over at him, all she could see was the strong beak of a nose with its extra bump, and the careful set of his lips.
“I was just out of college when I got married. I’d made a name for myself at the University of Georgia, and all I could see ahead was a life of football and more millions than a man can count. With a woman who loved me by my side.”
JoBeth heard the hurt in his voice and wondered which loss bothered him more, the woman or the career.
“It all started out great. You know I ended up here in Atlanta with the Falcons. Had a big church wedding. Suzy found us a house and decorated it, gave parties, met up with me on the road. She loved being the wife of a professional football player.”
“And that bothered you?”
“Hell, no. I loved it, too. But you see, I thought she loved me for me, that the NFL career was just kind of icing on the cake, you know?”
JoBeth sat silent, her eyes on the road before her, her attention focused completely on Dawg.
“Then I got my knee stomped on during that game in Miami. I knew it was over even before they carried me off the field.” He shook his head at the memory. “My professional career lasted one year and one week—must be one of the shortest in NFL history. And my marriage didn’t even make it two months more than that.”
“She couldn’t adjust to your change of career?”
“Adjust?” His voice rang with disgust. “She never even tried to adjust. She married a professional athlete, and I wasn’t one anymore. She hung around just long enough for the doctors to confirm I’d never play again, then she hitched her star to another player’s wagon.”
JoBeth reached a hand out to squeeze Dawg’s. She wanted to pull him against her breast and stroke his poor head until he felt better, but she managed to resist.
“I swore then that I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. I’ve told you that I love you, JoBeth. I’ve told you more times than I’ve ever told any woman. You have to know that it’s true.”
“You have. And I’m not accusing you of lying. But it’s just not enough anymore.”
She pulled up in front of Dawg’s house and put the car in park, letting the engine idle in the early morning darkness. She’d thought she’d spend the rest of her days in this house with Dawg, imagined raising their children there together. She fought back the moisture pressing against her eyelids and drew a long, shaky breath.
When he reached out to take her face in his large capable hands, she tilted her head to rub against one callused palm, reveling in its gentle strength. She’d miss everything about him: his quiet steadfastness, his fierce protectiveness, the way his body completed hers. She was her best self when she was with him, but she wouldn’t settle for scraps any longer.
“I love you, too, Dawg. But I can’t waste any more time or breath trying to convince you that I’m worth marrying. If you can’t tell the difference between me and Suzy, then that’s your loss.”
She tilt
ed her face out of his grasp and turned to look out the windshield, unable to stare into the blue of his eyes a second longer.
He reached out a hand to turn her face back toward his, and she forced herself to shrug it off.
“All right, then, let’s just start fresh,” he said. “Let me take you out tomorrow afternoon. We can go shoot some pool and have a pizza at Mario’s afterward, just like we did on our first date. All I’m asking for is time.”
JoBeth turned to face him then, forcing herself to look him square in the eye, steeling herself against the turbulence that she saw. She summoned all her resources to keep her voice steady, though she couldn’t totally eliminate the quiver of regret. “I’m not available tomorrow, Dawg. I’ve accepted a date with someone else, and I think it would be best if we said our goodbyes now.”
She watched the emotions flit across his face: the surprise followed by outrage and, ultimately, by an almost comical look of disbelief. “You’re going out with someone else?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Another guy? You’re going out with another guy?”
“Yes, I believe I already said that.”
“Well, if that doesn’t beat all.” He drew his hand back and ran it through his close-cropped blond hair. “Here I am dredging my guts up to try to make you understand where I’m coming from, and you’re going out with someone else.”
His eyes narrowed. “This is a payback for Emmylou, isn’t it?”
“No. It’s not a payback. It’s a date. Period. If we’re not going to be together, then we need to look for people better suited to what we want.”
“Right.” He opened the car door and slid out, leaning back in through the open window after he slammed the Cadillac door shut. “I guess that’s it then. You go your way and I’ll go mine.”
It all sounded so logical and correct. So why did she feel so crummy? And why did the expression on Dawg’s face make her want to climb out of the car and wrap her arms around his great hulk of a body?
He stood there for what felt like forever and ended up being nowhere near long enough. Then he tapped his fist on the hood of the car and offered her a crooked smile. “You’d best go on then, JoBeth. ’Cause if you stay here a minute longer, I’m going to carry you up to the house and have my way with you. You know that, don’t you?”