Love's Last Chance

by Jean C. Joachim

  “Speak for yourself,” she sniffed.

  “I’m speaking for all of us.” Drake bumped into her as the boat bobbed on the wake from a larger craft.

  “So why did you come?” She moved away from him.

  “I miss those days. Looking forward to being an idiot again with the rest of the idiots.” He chuckled.

  They hit calmer water. Dorrie smiled as she leaned her elbows on the railing and allowed her mind to take flight. Visions of that last summer with Johnny danced before her eyes. Games of beach volleyball, Frisbee, and picnics with radios blasting. Dancing in the sand, and everyone singing along to Don’t Stop the Music. Throwing each other into the ocean to sober up.

  Then, one magical night with the best looking guy she’d ever seen, and her closest male friend became her lover.

  Parties, endless parties all summer long. Every weekend had been one long party that started with beer on the ferry to the island on Friday afternoon and finished with plenty of caffeine disguised as iced coffee on the ferry ride home on Sunday. Every kind of drink you could make with fruit juice and booze chilled by huge blocks of ice had been served in a clean bucket. Beer flowed like water.

  Six-foot hero sandwiches, mammoth bowls of homemade spaghetti and ice cream by the gallon fed the group of eight, plus friends. Dorrie’s mouth watered at the memory. If she closed her eyes, she could practically taste the cold, creamy mint chip confection and the warm lips of Johnny Flanagan. Wait. How did he get in this memory?

  “What really happened between you and John?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Water under the bridge.” Dorrie trained her gaze at the island growing larger and closer by the minute.

  “Then why are you here?” He raised his eyebrows.

  “To be an idiot with the idiots. To get drunk, go swimming, and be stupid. Why else?” Not telling you, Drake.

  Drake laughed and pulled her in for a hug. “Dorrie, the un-party girl. You crack me up.”

  While Dorrie accepted her friend’s embrace, she thought about her real reason for coming. I want to give Johnny one more day, one more chance…the day I didn’t give him five years ago.

  The boat slowed as it approached the Fair Harbor dock. They had rented the same two houses they’d had every weekend for that fateful summer and several summers prior. Drake was lucky to get both places, one was to be the boy’s house and the other, the girl’s, just like five years ago.

  As the dockhand caught the rope, people crowded around the gate. Drake and Dorrie were in no hurry. The beautiful thing about Fire Island. No deadlines, no place to go, no hurrying. Relaxing and more relaxing. Reading. Making Love. Paradise of the North. She smiled to herself and slowly proceeded toward the exit.

  They were almost the last to get off. The man on the dock reached in to grab her big suitcase and yank it down off the vessel. Dorrie thanked him and turned to look for Drake. She didn’t see him, but did hear a deep, smooth voice behind her. “Can I take that for you?”

  She whirled around and came face-to-face with Johnny Flanagan, wrapping his long fingers around the handle of her valise. “Why…uh…no. I can manage. Really. It’s okay. Really. I mean…” The light gleamed off his sunglasses, hiding his eyes completely.

  Still, she could feel the warmth of his stare as he looked her over. The skin on her chest, exposed by her low-cut T-shirt, was burned by his gaze. She shifted her weight from foot to foot. Why didn’t I wear a turtleneck?

  “Let me carry it for you, Dorrie.” She sensed his dark brown eyes were laughing at her.

  “Okay, okay, yeah. Fine. Thanks, Johnny.” She dropped her purse, scooped up the makeup, wallet, and credit card holder that fell out, hauled her canvas bag onto her shoulder, and followed along behind him, ignoring his chuckle.

  The narrow, wood slat walkway only allowed walking single file, so there was no opportunity for conversation. Dorrie examined his back. He seemed a bit more muscular than five years ago, if she could gauge by his tight, light blue T-shirt straining to cover both shoulders. Navy blue swim trunks clung to narrow hips, a cute butt, and strong thighs. His calves were perfect. He still has a body to die for.

  She looked out at the placid bay as they walked by. All the wild, crashing waves came from the ocean on the other side of the narrow island. The sight of the calm water brought her much-needed peace. Don’t know what I’ll find here. Maybe Johnny’s married, engaged, or in love. Wouldn’t surprise me. Her heart rate was still rising as anxiety mixed with excitement in her blood. Time to find out for good. Did I leave too fast, or was that the right move?

  Johnny carried her luggage into the small, two-bedroom bungalow on Blue Wave Street. “Which room is yours?”

  “Scouting her out already?” Drake asked.

  Johnny blushed. “Looking for the right place for her suitcase, nut-job.”

  That’s Johnny. Always helping me. Always there when I needed him. Almost always. Dorrie pointed to the room on the right, and he deposited her valise there. She leaned against the bar, her gaze scanning the room.

  “Crap, this dump hasn’t changed,” she said.

  “Yeah, only five years ago, we thought it was a palace,” Johnny chuckled.

  “Beer?” Drake asked. Johnny pointed to the fridge. Drake helped himself then offered an Island brew, a local brand, to the other two.

  Sweat had begun to gather between Dorrie’s breasts. She grabbed the bottle and took a swig. The liquid cooled her. “Ah. That’s good.”

  Johnny followed suit. “Damn right.”

  “I’m going to check out the other house,” Drake said, leaving the two alone.

  Dorrie glanced at Johnny’s left hand. No wedding ring. Doesn’t mean anything. “So…not married, Johnny?” Damn! Did that just pop out of my mouth?

  “Not married, not engaged, not even going steady.” He thrust his head back and guzzled his beer.

  “Not that that affects me any,” she mumbled, trying to hide a smile.

  “You?” He lifted his eyebrows as his gaze fell on her left hand.

  “Nope. Free as a bird.”

  “Whatever happened to that hot-shot producer you were engaged to? Quickie divorce?”

  “Quickie break-up.” She licked a little foam off her lip, watching Johnny stare at her mouth for a moment.

  “Yeah?” He cocked his head slightly. He’s waiting for details, snoopy bastard.

  “Long story.” She leaned back on the bar, bracing the bottom of her foot against it.

  “Highlights.” He shifted his weight then took another swig.

  It’s gonna come out anyway. Everyone’s going to ask me, especially Mary. Nosy bitch.

  “Broke my ankle. No more dance career…no more engagement. Got it?”

  “That’s harsh. What a dumbass.”

  Dorrie bristled. “What?”

  “For leaving you. Assuming he’s the one who took off?”

  Heat again rose to her face. “Yeah. He broke the engagement.” Johnny—only man I know who can insult you while he’s giving you a compliment. She chuckled.

  “What’s so funny? Doesn’t sound like a funny story to me.”

  “It wasn’t.”

  Before she knew it, Johnny reached over and surrounded her shoulders with his long arm, pulling her into his chest. He closed the other around her waist, holding her in a tight hug. Dorrie struggled for a second at the surprise of his tenderness before she softened against him. It’s been three years. Still stings to talk about it. Then, as quickly as he grabbed her, he released her.

  Color reddened his cheeks. God, he’s gorgeous. He trained his gaze to the floor, and she took the opportunity to study him. His dark brown, curly hair was just the right length. Her fingers itched to comb through it. With his sunglasses off, his bittersweet chocolate eyes glistened with mischief and something else. Affection, maybe? Is he glad to see me?

  “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  She punched him lightly. “Hey, don’t apologize for a hug. Never apologize for a hug.�
�� He looked up, and his grin dazzled her.

  “How’s the water?” she asked, changing the subject.

  “Finally warming up. It’s been colder than hell for the past month.”

  “Let’s go.” She put her empty bottle down on the bar.

  “Got your suit on?” He chugged the little bit remaining in his.

  “Would it matter?” She cocked an eyebrow at him.

  “Not to me, but we won’t be alone this time.” Then she saw it, plain as day. Raw desire glowed in his eyes, making her shiver.

  “I’ll only be a minute.” Dorrie retreated to the comfort of her room and stripped off her sundress. She slipped the emerald green bikini up over her thighs and fastened the bra. Suddenly, what seemed a sexy suit in the store, now seemed far too revealing in front of Johnny. She swallowed and nabbed her sky-blue, terry cover-up, throwing it over her shoulders as she emerged.

  A low whistle drew her eye to Johnny, leaning against the bar, giving her a serious once over.

  “What’s under there? Anything?” His eyebrows rose, and his lips spread into a salacious grin.

  “A bathing suit. What did you think?” She slipped her feet into flip-flops.

  “That’s it, burst my bubble.” He opened a cupboard and took out two towels. He tossed one to her. She laughed as she headed out the door with him right behind.

  This wooden slat walkway was wider than the skinny one bayside. She and Johnny walked side-by-side. Scrub pines flourished, hugging the property lines of the small houses, providing shade for small animals and anchoring the sandy soil.

  Dorrie and Johnny walked the two blocks to the beach, the only sound the slap, slap, slap of her flip-flops. They fell right into an easy silence, as if five years had not passed. Johnny went up the steep wooden steps first then extended his hand to her. She slipped her hand into his warm, dry one, allowing him to steady her ascent.

  “Still haven’t built a railing here?” she commented.

  “How many times did Drake fall down these stairs, drunk?”

  “Hundreds, I think,” she laughed.

  He let go when they reached the dunes. Each year the dunes eroded some, becoming smaller. Dorrie remembered them being big enough to shelter Johnny and her lying down for a make-out session at sunset. Not anymore. You couldn’t hide a skinny cat behind these dunes.

  “Fire Island shrinks when we have a bad storm. Almost disappears after a hurricane.”

  “I noticed. The dunes aren’t even dunes anymore. Just small hills.”

  “Yeah. Too small to be any good,” he snickered, casting a quick glance her way.

  Dorrie smiled in spite of herself.

  “Last one in’s a rotten egg,” he called, as he slipped out of his moccasins and ripped his T-shirt over his head, dropping it and the towel on the sand.

  Dorrie made a face and tugged at her cover-up. Damn thing! She finally got it off and raced to the water’s edge. Johnny had a big head start and with his long legs, she had no way to catch up. The waves were cresting close to shore, but that didn’t stop him. He ran right in and dove headlong into one.

  The water curled in a stunning combination of white and dark aqua, a little more green than blue. It looked cold, but she was burning up from the unrelenting, August sun and the scrutiny of John Flanagan. Dorrie followed him in, taking a big breath and plunging head first into the surf. When she surfaced, Johnny was treading water just beyond where the waves break. She swam toward him.

  “Still got your suit?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Hell, I’ve seen more fabric on a wallet than on you.”

  “Are you complaining?” She stayed nearby, treading water.

  He burst into laughter. “Never! Never complain about an almost naked woman.”

  He’s still looking at me like that. Yeah, me and probably every other girl on the beach. She frowned as reality poked its head into her cocoon. She started swimming for shore, and Johnny kept up with her. As they stood dripping wet, goose bumps formed all over her body. God, it’s so good to feel cold!

  “Come on. You’re freezing,” he said, glancing at her and offering his hand.

  She took it and together they padded through the hard, packed sand to where it became deep, hot, and soft, where their towels lay. She laid out hers and plopped face down. Slipping on her sunglasses, she stole a peek at him.

  Water ran down in rivulets through the dark hair on his chest, making her want to dry him with her hands. He’s been working out. Always had a good body, but now it was even better. Hard to believe he’s improved in five years. Unable to stop staring, she jumped when his smooth voice interrupted her lusty thoughts.

  “Earth to Dorrie, are you staying in Manhattan?” He rubbed his pecs with his hands, pushing excess water off his body. Dorrie’s breath caught as she watched him. Let me do that.

  “Anyone home?” Johnny fairly shouted at her.

  “Oh! Sorry. Yes. No. Going back to L.A. in a couple of weeks. I’m the choreographer for a new movie.”

  “Really? That’s great. New career?”

  She nodded. “After my ankle, I opened a yoga and dance studio.”

  “Are you settling permanently in California?”

  “Looks that way. If this film’s a success, they plan to make it a TV series. I’ll finally be able to make some money again.” Don’t tell him about New York yet. Was that a flash of disappointment I saw on his face?

  “Congratulations. That’s a real achievement. Will you be famous?”

  “Will you be able to say you slept with a celebrity? Probably not.”

  “Hey! That’s uncalled for.” He turned his head and stared out at the ocean.

  “I’m sorry. That was mean, wasn’t it?” She reached out and patted his arm.

  “I’m doing pretty well on my own, you know.”

  “Yeah?”

  “In three weeks, I’ll be Senior V.P., Sales Director for Atlantic Motors.”

  She sat up. “That is impressive. My turn to congratulate.” She brushed his cheek with her lips.

  “I only wanted to know if you’d be able to get back the celebrity you lost. That’s all.”

  She put her hand on his arm. “I’m really sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

  “A little history rears its ugly head?” He raised one eyebrow.

  Dorrie wrung the salt water out of her long, auburn locks. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re still mad at me, aren’t you?” He faced her, his eyes searched hers.

  “Don’t think so.” She lowered her gaze.

  “I think so. And I still don’t know why.” He sat back away from her.

  For breaking my heart? For sleeping with me then moving on to someone else the next weekend? For wanting to come back into my bed again the weekend after, as if it were my turn in the rotation? You don’t know, really?

  Tears stung at the backs of her eyes as the memory of her heartbreak returned. Oh, God, it was five years ago. Let it go. Damn. Don’t cry. She took a big, shuddering breath and turned to face the waves, watching the tide roll out. “This is still one of the most beautiful places on Earth,” she said, changing the subject.

  “That it is. And it’s even better when you’re sober enough to notice.” He chuckled.

  She grinned at him. Maybe he’s grown up a little, eh?

  Movement in the sand diverted her attention. She looked up to see Drake looming large with a big beach towel.

  “How’s the water?”

  “Chilly but refreshing,” Dorrie replied.

  “Spare towel? Gimme that,” Johnny snatched a smaller one from Drake’s hands.

  “Hey! Get your own!” Drake grabbed for the towel but missed.

  Johnny jumped up, a naughty gleam in his eye. “You want it? Come and get it.” He took off with Drake in hot pursuit. Dorrie sat back, laughing at their antics as they raced around the beach, Johnny always one step ahead.

  John faked throwing it in the water, and
Drake leapt up in the air to block it. Eventually, they came back to Dorrie.

  “She’s base,” Johnny said, panting for breath as he slid down next to her.

  “Base hell, gimme my towel!” Drake snatching it back from Johnny and put it with his things, but Johnny didn’t move. He slipped his arm around Dorrie, resting his hand on her bare shoulder, creating a tingle.

  “Truce?” he asked, his brown eyes staring into hers.

  “I’m not mad at you.” Have I forgiven him?

  “If you say so. But you could have fooled me. Not even a hello kiss…after five years!”

  Johnny leaned closer to her. She watched his gaze move down to her mouth. Instinctively, her hand came up to rest against his chest. Big mistake! Once her fingers touched his skin, feeling the strong muscle underneath, she knew resisting was futile. The scent of him mixed with the smell of salt water lured her. One glance at his lips, and she knew she’d kiss him.

  He brought his mouth down slowly, carefully, on hers. He pressed gently as the tip of his tongue caressed her lips then snaked inside for a few seconds when she parted. Slow, sensuous, teasing. That was always Johnny. No slam bam thank you ma’am for him. Always seductive. Always irresistible.

  He pulled back. She opened her eyes to peer into two almost black pools looking back at her with questions. But she didn’t have answers. Not yet, anyway.

  “That’s better,” he whispered, so softly the ocean breeze almost carried it away.

  “Hi,” she muttered, blinking up at him, her pulse racing.

  “Hi,” he stared at her.

  Drake came back and shook ice-cold water off on them. The chill broke the spell.

  “What the hell?” Johnny scowled at Drake.

  ‘Wake up, lovers,” Drake laughed.

  “We’re not lovers,” Dorrie piped up.

  “Oh yeah?” He chuckled. “You give a good imitation.”

  “Where’s Chrissy?” Dorrie asked, moving the spotlight away from her private connection with Johnny.

  “She’s coming tonight. Staying with the women,” he said, plopping down on the sand next to Dorrie, turning his back to John.

  “Why? You’re married.”

  “Didn’t want her in the house with three gross guys. And it’s not okay for me to stay in your house.”