by Opal Carew
And what are you expecting to come from this? You work here, remember? What do you honestly expect to come from this? This isn’t a fairy tale, you know. No guaranteed happily-ever-after. Think you can handle that?
...
And there would be the words of wisdom.
Brain was right. Heart needed protection. Heart had taken some pretty nasty knocks in their collective life and couldn’t bear many more.
She needed the job; he was still in love with his wife. Whatever this was, it wasn’t what she wanted it to be.
So somehow—she wasn’t quite sure how—she managed to pull back from the Todd/Jolie sandwich. Yes, there were a lot of shaky, heavy breaths and connecting body parts, but at least Lips unlocked and Tongues receded to the correct mouths. It was possible Heart could come away from this unscathed.
She nibbled on her lip. Swollen. She shouldn’t do that again.
Although, Todd’s harsh, indrawn breath could entice her to do it one more time.
Just once.
Yep, same harsh breath.
“Jolie.” His fingers feathered her neck again and her feet began to melt onto the driveway at the way he said her name, his voice warm and smooth, wrapping around every letter like caramel on a Halloween apple.
And when he leaned in to go for round two of the knee-trembling, thigh-quivering, stomach-twisting kiss, with yet another warm-as-melted-butter, “Jolie,” she swayed just the slightest bit his way with an answering, “hmmmm?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Mmmm.” That was nice—
Sorry?
He said he was sorry? For kissing her? As in apologizing, never-should-have-done-it-won’t-happen-again-because-it-shouldn’t-have-happened-in-the-first-place sorry?
Alrighty then.
She stepped back to find herself battling Melanie’s door for space, so she put both hands on Todd’s chest—and not in a good way—and shoved. Enough to show him she meant business.
“Whatever.” She turned around and fumbled with the car door.
“Jolie—”
“Forget it. Let’s just go.”
Why wouldn’t the darn thing open? She jiggled the handle again.
“What about the rest of the cookies?” Todd’s voice was tight, restrained. A bit hoarse.
Oh yeah. Cookies. She leaned her forehead on Mel’s roof. Now she was stuck here waiting for Mike to show.
With someone she wasn’t about to turn around and face.
“Jolie—”
Mike roared up in his black, shiny Navigator as if it were a racecar, ending the moment.
“Mike’s here.” Thank God. “I’ll get the rest of the cookies and you help him make room.” Jolie stepped sideways from her car, leaving Todd to explain the sudden chill in the air to his brother because she just couldn’t.
***
Todd raked a hand through his hair. Smooth move, Best. God, he was an idiot. What the hell had he been thinking?
“Did I interrupt something?” Mike’s car door slammed.
Obviously, he hadn’t been thinking.
He’d been feeling.
Feeling.
He hadn’t felt in… so long. And… God. It’d felt so good. She’d felt so good.
She’d made him feel so good. So alive.
“Todd?”
“Huh? What?” Todd turned around to find Mike too close for comfort. The bond between them that had served him when he was at his lowest was not what he needed now. Mike could read him like a book. “Uh, no. We were, uh, just deciding if we needed your help.”
“And?” Damn Mike for that smile hovering around his mouth.
“And?”
“Do you need my help? Or do you have things under control?” The smartass didn’t even bother to hide the grin now.
“Everything’s fine, Mike. But, yeah, we need your help. Let’s put the seat down so we can get the rest of the cookies in your car.” He bypassed his brother’s smirk and headed to the back of the SUV.
“Todd, seriously. What did I interrupt?”
“Nothing, Mike. You interrupted nothing.”
“A lot of words for nothing.”
“You want to open this trunk? Jolie’s going to be back with the cookies any minute now.”
“For what it’s worth, Barb and I really liked her.”
“For what it’s worth, that’s nice. Now how do you work this thing?”
“You know, Todd, you couldn’t run from the truth two years ago and you can’t do it now.”
“Just shut up, Mike, and open the damn door.” He didn’t need any great revelations from Mike. He was having enough of his own.
One being that Jolie had run from his kiss.
Another, that it bothered him she’d run. More than he had a right to be bothered.
Oh hell. He didn’t have any rights. Not for kissing Jolie; not even for wanting to kiss her.
He was sorry he’d done it. Well, not for the actual kiss, because, honestly, he couldn’t regret it. He should, knowing how he’d felt about Trista, but kissing Jolie had been the first burst of real sunshine in his drab existence of the past two years.
No, he wasn’t sorry for the kiss itself. He was sorry for using her: her zest for life, her exuberance, her generous spirit. Of taking some of that for himself. To absorb some of her positive, sunny energy inside him and allow life and, perhaps, hope, to sprout.
Jolie was life personified, every breath she took filled with such expectation. She was the first person to make him feel alive in two years. The first one to bring him back to himself; the sexual energy was just something extra. Something all her own.
But for her smiles, her laughter, even her singing, he owed it to her to make this right.
And he owed it to himself to not run away from it.
***
Jonathan Griff could barely contain himself. They’d kissed! Oh, he was so happy. It would only be a little while longer; he could feel it.
And soon he’d feel those wings on his back.
But he had to make sure. He didn’t want things going wrong now. Raphael had specifically said no bumps in the road and the emotions were so raw at this point. So new.
He rubbed his chin. No bumps…
He didn’t want to leave this up to chance. No, he’d have to get more involved as the archangel had suggested. Of course, with what had happened the last time he’d gotten physically involved—
But no matter. The fire had worked out for the best for Todd and Jolie. And this time he’d be more careful. No more accidental slippages causing any more damage to their growing relationship.
Chapter Nineteen
“Can I have another cookie?” A cute little girl with braids all over her head batted her big brown eyes at Todd by the dessert table. So young and already so wily. Jolie remembered it well.
“Sure you can, honey.” Todd handed her not one, but two.
“Thankth, mithter,” the girl lisped as she skipped away with her treasure. “You’re the betht!”
Jolie couldn’t stop her chuckle. That girl had no idea who she was talking to, just some nice man with cookies, but yeah, he was the best. Literally and figuratively.
And Jolie really shouldn’t be thinking like that.
Todd looked over, catching her eye, and his smile faded just a bit. He was probably wondering if she was going to get angry over some perceived sexual harassment—with the nudity and the lip-lock, maybe she had grounds.
But, no. He hadn’t made anything a condition of her employment and until that happened, she was going with normal hormonal combustion. And Luck. Whether it was good or bad remained to be seen, but Luck had a lot to answer for in her life anyway—what was one more thing?
Or, maybe he was wondering if she’d get all mushy about the kiss. No worries there. That’d be the last thing she’d do. Matter of fact, she’d ordered Brain and Heart to throw it out of memory. A one-time event; that was it. Not worth the agony of remembering.
But Skin
and Mouth remembered and they were shivering.
Traitors.
“Jolie!” Her friend, Chloe White, approached the table. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“I work for Todd, er, Mr. Best.” She nodded in Todd’s direction without taking advantage of the opportunity to steal another look at him. Score one for her.
“Hey, Todd.” Chloe waved and took a cookie. “You made these, Jols?”
“Yep.”
“Hi, Chloe.” Todd stood next to Jolie. “Are the girls having a good time?”
“Always.” Chloe, another system survivor, took in foster kids herself. “You know how they look forward to this picnic. It’s been a count-down on our calendar for months.”
“I’m glad. You should bring them by the house to swim sometime. The pool barely gets used.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. You know, Todd, you’re pretty lucky to have Jolie working for you.” Chloe munched away with a curious gleam in her eye.
“I know.” Todd’s soft voice did awful/wonderful things to Jolie’s insides.
“She’s an awesome cook.”
“I know.”
“Hello? I’m standing right here?” Chloe’s method was so transparent and Jolie really wished she wouldn’t do what she was obviously trying to do.
“Not to mention, very helpful with my girls.” Chloe blathered on as if she hadn’t heard the censure in Jolie’s voice.
“Really?” Todd asked.
“Yes. She takes them shopping or, if I need to run a few errands, she’ll stop by.” If Jolie still had her kicky yellow flat it’d be protruding from Chloe’s mouth at that moment. “She always has the girls in the kitchen helping her. Some of their best memories are going to be decorating cookies on rainy afternoons.”
“Rainy afternoons. You don’t say.”
Jolie chose to ignore Todd’s gaze as it rested on her—or rather, she let him think she was ignoring it—by adding more cookies to the doily-covered trays in a vain attempt at blending into the background. How did one ask one’s friend to shut her trap in public? Perhaps a well-aimed glare?
“Yep. And every Christmas we have enough gingerbread men to form an army.” The glare hadn’t worked, but luckily for Chloe, a whistle sounded from the field.
“Time for the kickball tournament,” she announced, grabbing another cookie. “I’ve got to get my team set up. Catch up with you two later. Jolie, if you can come by a week from Monday, I’d appreciate it. I’ve got another appointment about the house.”
Jolie nodded and Chloe ran off, and, oh, the awkward silence she left behind.
“So,” Todd said, “gingerbread men?”
“Yep. With chocolate chip buttons, licorice scarves—”
“Whipped cream fur on their hats?”
Okay, that earned a smile from her. She shook her head and finally looked up. Those crinkles around his eyes she liked so much were back. “I refuse to introduce impressionable children to the hazards of whipped cream. We use icing.”
“Ah, icing. Definitely much less hazardous.” For a moment they smiled, and then… it just happened. One little chuckle, then another, and they were back to the easy camaraderie of before. Before The Kiss.
“Looks like you’ve got a lot in common with Mrs. Carleson.” Todd pulled out another aluminum tray and covered it with doilies. Only a real man could handle doilies and maintain his masculinity. “Chloe’s girls are going to remember you later on in life with good memories.”
“I hope so. The good memories, I mean. They are so lucky to be living with Chloe.” Jolie retrieved another bag of cookies and loaded the tray, trying to ignore Todd’s shoulder mere inches from hers. “She’s trying to adopt them, but it’s pretty hard for a single woman, and she’s got a problem with some builder so all her money’s tied up in that legal battle. It’s a bit of a strain on all of them since nothing’s permanent in the girls’ lives. I try to help out where I can.” She folded the empty plastic bags. “If, God forbid, any of the girls gets moved, at least she’ll have our time together to remember.”
“And maybe she’ll become a baker or chef someday, too.”
Boy, did the guy get her or what? “At least she’ll have a direction in her life, a career goal. I know it helped me stay focused. I knew what I wanted in life, where I was going. It kept me on the straight and narrow.”
Todd took the folded bags from her and their fingers brushed. Not much, and not deliberately, just enough to remind her there’d been a reason for The Kiss.
“I guess there are opportunities aplenty for them to stray from that path,” he said as if his skin wasn’t scorched.
“Yeah, desperation and despair are the Pied Pipers of scared and lonely kids.”
“I admire you, Jolie.” His voice went all soft and her legs started with that wobbly-knee syndrome again.
“You… you do?”
“Yes. You’re not about to let life get you down.”
“I’ve only got one life. Might as well make the best of it.”
“When life hands you lemons—”
“I make some pretty awesome lemonade.”
“I’d like to try it sometime.”
They were talking about a drink, right?
“Hey, Todd!” Mike jogged up to the table. “The games are about to start and we need a few words from our CEO.”
Todd’s eyes flickered once more over her face. “Can we talk about… lemonade later?”
She gulped. “Sure.”
He wrapped his un-scorched fingers around her upper arm and gave it a little squeeze. “Thanks. I’ll look forward to it.” He jogged after Mike to the podium on the field.
What a view. Gluteus Toddius all the way.
***
Jonathan Griff popped up at the cookie table, heavy satchel in hand, intent on putting his latest plan into action. This Guardian stuff was not for the faint of heart or the lazy. So many variables, it was like conducting an orchestra. And he was determined to get it right. “How are you doing, my dear?”
“Hi, Mr. Griff. I’m doing well. Yourself?” Jolie looked like a beautiful spring day in her sunny dress and even sunnier smile.
“Good, thanks. I’m doing just fine. It’s good to see you so cheerful. Not like the first time when you were having a bit of a bad day with your shoe.”
“I know. And then both my shoe and I went on to have an even worse night.”
Guilt wicked its way down his back. “Ah, yes, the fire. Have you found a safe place to live yet?” Of course, he already knew how well it’d worked out, but she couldn’t know he knew. It’d be so much easier if Guardians could share their job description with their Charges, but with so many non-believers these days, not to mention dissection-happy scientists and government agencies, that wasn’t a good idea.
“Actually, Mr. Best has let me use one of his rooms until I can find a place in my price range.”
“He’s a good man, that Todd Best. You should stick with that one because you could do a lot worse than him.” But certainly not any better; he was one of the best, no pun intended. There was a reason his family had that last name. Generations before him had earned it.
Jolie’s face reddened and she shuffled the cookies around on the platter before her. “What brings you here today, Mr. Griff?”
“Oh, er, I’ve had my eye on this picnic for a while.” He leaned against the table, crossing one ankle in front of the other and settling in for those Heavenly words of wisdom it was his duty to impart. She was a smart girl; she’d take the message to heart.
“I was thinking that the children would like a few books of their own, and since books are my business, I’d like to donate some. Nothing like losing yourself in a good story, I always say.” He nodded, waiting for her to agree, as he knew she would—and did. “And how are you doing with the one I gave you? The Dashing Rogue, I believe?”
“I love it, thank you. Regencies are my favorite.”
Of course he’d known that. That’d be w
hy he’d chosen it. Full of hope and dreams and, of course, happy endings. All wrapped in a package she’d like.
“They were simpler times then, weren’t they? Nowadays there are all sorts of rules to follow, approvals to be gotten… It’s much harder. But back then, a girl’s Guardian only needed to tell her who she was to marry and she’d go along with it.” Ah, for the good ol’ days.
“That’s simpler? I’d call it indentured servitude of the worst kind.”
That wasn’t supposed to be her conclusion. Indentured servitude? How did people come up with these things?
Jonathan uncrossed his legs and raised himself to his full height, which The Boss had assured him was considerable when righteousness backed it. “As long as the Guardian had the girl’s best interests at heart, it’d be a good thing, right? Most young people can’t tell who’d be perfect for them, so who better to see things clearly than the one who cares for them?”
She… snorted? “Yeah, but if we let the older generations decide everything we’d never have technology or rock music or the right to vote.”
“Ah, but with age comes wisdom, don’t you think?” Goodness, she was a tough sell. He wouldn’t have thought it. Of course, there was her upbringing.
“In some cases, sure,” she argued. “But for a spouse? I don’t think so. How well did all those arranged marriages work out? Were the people happy?”
“And the divorce rate nowadays is such a good indication of the choices your generation has made?”
“But at least they have the choice.”
“So, if someone, say a Guard, er, good friend, drops the perfect man in your lap, you’d walk away from him simply because you weren’t the one doing the choosing?”
“Are you trying to fix me up, Mr. Griff?”
Fiddlesticks. He hadn’t meant to be so transparent.
“Oh no, my dear. I don’ play matchmaker. That’s best left up to those who know better.” Though how much better, he was beginning to wonder.
He glanced skyward. Hopefully The Boss hadn’t heard that. It couldn’t be good to doubt Him or an archangel, but with Jolie’s reticence on the subject, Jonathan had to wonder if Todd truly was the correct choice for her. “I, er, just like giving out some food for thought, that’s all.”