Play Fling

by Amber Scott

  Too late now.

  “Are you certain she cannot love him as well?” AJ put his hands out as though making an offering.

  “You didn’t hear her voice. She’s seriously terrified. My guess is, he told her and she is freaking out.” Millie shook her head. “Besides, I don’t see how she could. Brooke cares too much about order to risk being with a guy like him. Too rebellious. Too complicated.”

  He stepped toward her. His bare chest flexed as he moved. “Could you be wrong?”

  “I’d say I’m really good at being wrong, but I don’t think I am when it comes to this. In fact, Brooke practically begged me to come over twenty minutes ago. I think she’s freaking out about how Elliott feels about her.”

  “Can you be certain?”

  She thought about it a moment. Certain? “How certain?”

  AJ continued. “If what you say proves true, might Brooke simply be too scared to admit to her own feelings?”

  Well, Millie definitely knew how that felt. But Brooke? Neat and tidy and grounded Brooke?

  “Millie, if she is in love, don’t you realize, you might be able to bring them together?” He drew closer with each word, his gaze mesmerizing her. The air grew electric between them. “You could still have time to match Brooke.”

  Millie swallowed. “But, he’s all wrong for her. He’s risk and change and everything she fights against.” All she could think of was kissing him, feeling him. Touching his bare skin. “How? What could I ever I possibly do in three days time?”

  He only nodded, coming closer. “What we need, we fear.”

  Her heart thrummed, her body purred. “No. Not just fear. It’s who she is. She needs someone stable. Someone who won’t leave her in ten years because he’s come to his senses and fallen for a student.”

  He stopped in front of her, mere inches away. “That’s your fear. You aren’t giving her a chance.”

  “It’s too big a gamble. It’s her life, AJ. Her heart. She’s my best friend and you’re asking me to gamble on her whole future.”

  “It’s her gamble.” He reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. His hand grazed along her cheek. “You’re not giving her a chance. Think about it,” he near whispered.

  Her breaths came fast and hot. Her mind warred between her attraction and her duty. If he was right, could she help Brooke face her feelings? “He’ll have told her what I did.”

  “He may not have.”

  “If Brooke is in love with Elliott, then I am up for the world’s biggest idiot award.” She leaned in closer. “If they are a match, what have I been doing all this time? Besides getting everything wrong?”

  AJ grinned mischievously. He bent closer and stroked her cheek. “Maybe you didn’t get anything wrong.”

  She tore her gaze from his mouth. “No, I did. I guarantee I did. I blackmailed Elliott, was ready to kidnap Jason, maybe even drug Brooke.” Her libido hummed as he drew tantalizing circles over her palm. “I didn’t even guess about Gordon. I’ve gotten it all wrong.”

  “Exactly.” Gently, he pulled her down to the sofa with him. “Hear me out.”

  Millie exhaled. Her senses drank him in. His scent, his deep tone of voice, his very nearness. Three days.

  “How did they meet?” he asked.

  Why did his voice have to be so melodic? It was beyond distracting. “He’s her history class’ assistant professor or something. She turned in a paper to him…no, wait.” Millie racked her brain. There was something more there. “They might have met before that. At The Book Exchange maybe?”

  AJ cocked his head, grinning. “When?”

  “The day I stood her up.” Millie inhaled sharply. “Oh, you have to be kidding me. You’re saying I’m going to get credit for matching Brooke because I ditched her to break into her apartment only to lead myself onto a wild goose chase after Jason?”

  “No, I don’t think accidentally throwing them into each other’s paths is enough.” AJ scrubbed a hand over his face. “Not enough to keep me here, anyway, and that is what we need right now.”

  You want to stay? A secret part of her craved confirming she meant something to him, that in some way, he needed her too. In the end, she only looked at him for a long moment, the question unspoken. “But, do I still have time to fix this?” Millie finally asked.

  His eyes lowered to her mouth. “Three days time.”

  “I could kiss you,” Millie said quietly. She could lean in, press her lips to his, breathe him in, taste him. A quickening rippled through her.

  AJ didn’t falter. His expression remained placid, but his eyes burned hotter. Was he leaving it up to her? Would he back away or did he want her to cross this line between them?

  She doubted she would be able to stop if she started anything with him. He would have to. And she would likely beg him not to. Then what? If she matched Brooke and he could stay, and she had made a fool of herself, how could she live down the next umpteen years with him?

  “I can give you something powerful,” he said, tingling her palm with another circle.

  Her heart peppered with hope. Her mouth watered. “Powerful?”

  “Yes.” He brought her wrist to his lips. “My most potent cocktail. You’ll have to make certain only Brooke gets it and that she and Elliott come together before it wears off.”

  Chemistry? Yes, of course. For Brooke and Elliott. A strand of reality fell through her fog of desire. “But I thought it was all about energy and focus. Are you saying you can make some sort of potion?”

  “It’s complicated and with as little time as we have left,” he said, slowly lowering her wrist. “Perhaps I can extrapolate on the topic another time?”

  Millie nodded, wishing her wrist wasn’t now lying limp on her thigh. “Brooke wants me to come over right now. Maybe I could somehow undo my blackmail blunder and convince Elliott to come over, too?”

  AJ nodded thoughtfully. “If she does love him, the concoction will force her to realize it. But, if she doesn’t…well, she’ll still need him, but things could get ugly. Can you make certain he’ll come?”

  “I don’t know. I think so.” His face seemed to draw closer with her every word. “I can show up, apologize, grovel….”

  AJ closed his eyes. His breath tickled against her neck. “Millicent?”

  She could smell his minty breath. Her hands gripped the sofa edge. “Yes?”

  He opened his eyes and what shone there pierced her. “I need you to be stronger than me right now.”

  Stronger? How could she be the stronger one? She was only human and wanted him so badly her whole being hummed. “I don’t want to be strong, AJ. I want to give in. What if I fail? What if Elliott has told Brooke what I’ve done? Three days are all we—.”

  “Shh,” he interrupted. He touched her hair, trailed a finger down her jaw. “I’ll be here. I know you can do this, Millicent. Don’t expect the worst. But you’re too damned tempting looking at me the way you are and you smell so good. You’re doing things to me and I don’t think I can be a gentleman right now.”

  Hidden parts of her melted with every word. How could she move away?

  “Please,” he said, his voice strained.

  Her belly trembled. Her body begged her to give in, to forget everything. He wouldn’t refuse her. He wanted her just as much as she wanted him.

  He might regret it, though.

  She couldn’t afford that. She wouldn’t do that to him. Scooting away helped. Every additional separating inch helped. Soon, she stood on her wobbly legs and her head began to clear.

  AJ stood as well. He didn’t look at her. “Give me half an hour and I’ll get you what you need.”

  His innocent words wrought images of him inside of her. His mouth on her breast, down her belly, between her open thighs. She nearly groaned, knowing he would not, in fact, give her what she needed. Not today. But he would give her the chance to make things right for Brooke. If she wasn’t too late.

  Chapter Twenty-three

&n
bsp; Brooke smoothed both hands over her hair again. Her reflection in the bathroom mirror looked far better than she felt. Her skin glowed, her hair swung neatly back into place. Inside, her heart raced, her skin flashed with warmth. Her belly fluttered. Love? Terrifying, complicated, and messy love?

  This was not supposed to have happened. Not to her. Not like this, with him. When her heart wasn’t quaking in fear, it soared, buoyant as a balloon.

  Nothing could be worse than this. She was a merry-go-round kind of girl, not a roller coaster chick. They made her puke.

  Brooke left the bathroom and paced the length of her apartment.

  Any minute now, Mille would be here. Given that Brooke had kept Elliott a secret for so long, she might have a lot of explaining to do when she got here. But, oh well. She couldn’t hide him, or this, any longer. Millie would just have to understand. Wouldn’t she? She wouldn’t feel betrayed that her closest friend hadn’t trusted her with her biggest secret, would she?

  Brooke couldn’t stomach that potential pain now. She had to focus on the Elliott issue.

  Millie would understand. Then, together, they’d figure out what to do, how to wrap Brooke’s brain around the last few weeks’ events. Jeez. Weeks? How could so much happen in such a small window of time? It wasn’t possible, was it? No.

  Her stomach ached. Sick, but not queasy. That roiling sensation that forms as the metal cart ratchets higher, closer to the lip of a drop that falls from view, and all you can do is scream and hold on for dear life.

  She perched on the sofa arm and chewed a nail. The TV Guide channel scrolled the evening’s menu but she didn’t read a single listing. She counted them instead. Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three. What if she hurt Elliott? What if she hurt him so badly she ruined all women for him? What if she devastated him? How could she withstand to hurt him at all? He was so sweet and open and brave through their relationship so far. If she could even characterize it as a relationship.

  The alternative was too much to consider, though. It wasn’t as though she could be with him. The odds were simply too stacked against a relationship like theirs. She didn’t even know how too young for her he even was yet. There had to be a way to resolve this without crushing him.

  He was in love with her.

  She wished she knew what to do, how to feel.

  A knock sounded, snapping her out of her muddle. “Finally!” Brooke rushed to the door. She swung it open. “Nancy? I thought you were…I mean, uh…hi there.”

  Shoulders scrunched up to her ears, Nancy Munkle waved rapidly.

  Brooke shifted. “What are you doing here?”

  “Brooke, honey, be a dear and invite an old lady in. It’s freezing out here.”

  Alright. “Of course, come in.” Stepping back, feeling her spine ramrod straighten, Brooke remembered to shut her gaping jaw. “How are you?”

  Funny how some things never changed. Nancy always had a knack for easing a person into comfort and approval, then wham, she nailed you to the wall. But, with what? What on earth did Nancy have to nail Brooke with? Nancy no longer had a say in Brooke’s life. She’d lost that delusional right almost two years ago. Surely, one Turkey Day dinner hadn’t placed some accidental deposit in the Munkle guilt bank.

  Wringing her hands and fumbling with her coat, Nancy scanned Brooke’s apartment.

  “Nancy,” Brooke said to break the silence. “Can I get you something? Water?”

  “Oh, no thank you. I don’t want to trouble you.” She hardly looked Brooke’s way. “Oh, just look at me. Honey, tomorrow night has me so nervous and I can’t think in that house. I got in my car and you know it practically drove itself here.” Her eyes flitted from wall to floor to sofa to entryway table.

  Brooke had the silly urge to stand in front of her and cover things from view. Like the room was naked or something. “I didn’t know you knew where I lived.”

  “Christmas card.”

  What was she looking for? “I’m sorry?” Brooke wanted the woman’s eyes on her. Not on the room, hunting for something in the midst.

  “Your Christmas card return address, dear. I wrote it down.” Nancy pulled at her scarf, taking a breath like the thing had been a noose. “It’s lovely. Very quaint. Tasteful.”

  “Thank you. Come in,” Brooke said. Clearly, Nancy’s real agenda wasn’t going to be quick.

  Millie’d be here soon. Remembering so did wonders for her defenses. They relaxed, recalled the fact that this woman was no longer her nosy, busybody mother-in-law, well-meaning or not.

  “I don’t have much to offer you. Water, diet coke?”

  “No, thank you. I can’t stay long. I have a coffee cake to finish. You know, I left the batter right on the counter. Oh dear.”

  Brooke wasn’t sure she should leave Nancy alone anyhow, so sat down, gesturing for Nancy to join her. “What will you be serving tomorrow?” Brooke asked.

  Nancy looked over, her eyes widened. She sat. “Pot roast.” Her voice quaked. She pressed her hand over her mouth and began to weep.

  “My goodness, Nancy, what is it?” Brooke scooted closer and went to hug her. “Don’t cry.”

  Nancy backed away, flapping a hand in the air. “No, no. I’m fine. Just a bit overworked today. Nothing to fuss over.”

  Nancy stood and began pacing. Brooke stuffed her hands under her thighs. Her confusion mounted by the second. An awful need to see the woman gone took hold. It grew and tightened until Brooke found herself foraging for lies good enough to make Nancy cease walking the length of the windows and out the door instead.

  “I don’t want to rush you off, Nancy,” she said, feeling the press of the woman’s silence. “But, I was just leaving to leave to pick up some dinner.”

  Nancy’s head tilted and sharp accusation shone in her eyes. “I see. You don’t want me here.” She nodded and strode toward the door. “I understand.”

  Nausea swarmed Brooke’s stomach. And anger. How dare this woman barge in on her, make a spectacle of herself and then stab her with a look like that? What did Nancy have to accuse her of? Not to mention the guilt dripping off every word.

  Let her stew in it. Brooke strode to the door. She had half a mind to demand an explanation. But her sane rational parts whispered for Brooke to let it go. It wasn’t worth the dramatics. Nancy wanted to satisfy her own twisted needs.

  “Like I said, I was just leaving, Nancy.”

  Anger burned up Brooke’s throat nonetheless. Maybe she would call Jason. He certainly would be interested in what his mother was up to. If he was moving on with his life, his mother poking around in his past would piss him off good. Better yet, maybe she’d skip tomorrow’s party. Show Nancy she was willing to walk away, family or not.

  “Of course you were.” Nancy tossed one end of her knit scarf over her shoulder, nearly hitting Brooke in the face with the frayed ends. She faced the door. She halted. Turned. Her gasp echoed off the narrow walls. Too late, Brooke saw what snared the woman’s attention. Too, too late. Nancy snatched the framed photo and clutched it to her bosom.

  “Nancy, that’s not what you think,” Brooke said, unsure how to explain.

  Tears shone anew in Nancy’s eyes. “Of course it is what I think. You still love Jason! Sure you do. This proves it. Oh, Brooke, honey, you still love my Jason.”

  “No, Nancy. I don’t.” In fact, Brooke couldn’t honestly say she ever really had. Not now. Today, with Elliott, things had changed. “I’m not in love with Jason.”

  “How can you say that?” Desperation rang Nancy’s words. She shoved the photo toward Brooke. “Look at the two of you! If that isn’t love, what is it?”

  What more could she say? Wrong or not, she didn’t have the heart to break Nancy’s. “It’s just a picture.”

  Nancy shook her head. “No. It’s love. You two just have forgotten somehow. Gotten lost in the crazy world we live in. Believing in fairytales and lies.”

  “The only fairytale I ever believed is in that picture. And I’ve grown up.
The story ended.”

  “Then why do you have it? Why do you have it sitting here for everyone to see if you’re so independent and grown up?” Her chubby finger poked upwards. “Why isn’t it hidden away in some box if you don’t still love him?”

  Brooke had never seen her so mad. Nancy’s hands were shaking, her voice growing shrill, scaring Brooke and angering her all over again.

  “You want to know why?” Brooke asked. “So that every single day, I can see what I wasted fifteen long, lonely years on. That’s why. Every day, as I try to go out into the world and find my place in it, I remember.” The dam broke. She forgot about feeling sorry for the woman. “I remember that hope isn’t enough. That being true to myself is what matters. Your son, on my wedding day, is my motivation to never give up myself again, Nancy.”

  Nancy gasped. Her tears gathered and spilled as her shoulders shook. Gently, she set down the picture then buried her face in her hands.

  If only Brooke had seen the signs from the start. Thanksgiving dinner. Their conversation. The invitation for tomorrow’s party. Brooke wouldn’t be surprised at all if tomorrow’s dinner was no more than a plot to try to get Jason and her back together.

  “Nancy,” Brooke said, putting her hands over hers, pulling them down so she could see her eyes. “I loved Jason very much. I miss being his wife very much. But not because of love, because I miss being a Munkle.”

  “You’ll always be a Munkle, dear.” Her words came wet and hiccupped.

  “Thank you.” She brought Nancy back in and to the sofa where she sat her down. “That means so much to me,” Brooke said, feeling like the planet’s biggest bitch. How could she have let Nancy get to her and then unleash on her like that? All Nancy wanted was the security of seeing her son happy. She got Nancy a glass of water and one for herself. She wished her water was wine. Where was Millie?

  “Nancy, I need you to understand,” Brooke said, holding onto her glass. “Jason and I might, one day, be able to be great friends again. But that’s really all we ever were. I deserve more than friendship. Jason deserves more than friendship.”