Court was enjoying himself. Finally, he was on equal footing with Jolie Kramer. Pretty soon, he’d have the upper hand.
“If you enjoy a Barney’s toasted coconut donut more than making love, maybe you’re not doing it right. Or maybe your partner isn’t.”
“Who said anything about making love?”
“I did.” Court grinned at her again and sunk his teeth into a big bite of his donut, aware of Jolie’s stare the entire time. “You know the kind I really like? The ones with the cream filling inside. Because then you can use your tongue on them—”
Jolie looked away. “Could we, uh, please talk about something besides donuts?”
“Oh? Were we talking about donuts?” Court waggled his eyebrows. If the rest of the day went as well as the morning, he was in for a heck of a time.
“You were saying before, you remember lots of things. Like what exactly?”
“I remember the time you got the flu and your mother was out of town. Your father was at work.”
“And you cut school—”
“Because you didn’t show up—”
“And you came over to check on me—”
“Because I was worried.”
“You were so sweet.”
“You were so sick.”
“Ha.” Jolie laughed without humor. “I remember throwing up so violently I thought my ears were going to explode.”
“Yeah, it was pretty bad.”
“And Daddy was working late. You stayed with me. And later you made me soup. Why’d you do that, anyway?”
Court shrugged. “We were friends.”
“Were we? I’m not sure I deserved your friendship. “Did I even thank you?”
She hadn’t. “I don’t remember.”
She sat back in her chair and picked bits of coconut off her donut. “I bet I didn’t. I was pretty self-involved back then. Selfish, really.” Her gaze came up and met his.
“How’s that been working out for you?”
Jolie blinked. So far she’d been the only one asking herself that question. “It never worked that well.”
Phase One complete. Court pushed his chair back. “I’ve got to run.” He set his cup in the sink and Jolie followed him to the door.
“Thanks, Court.”
“For what?”
“For—for the donuts for one thing. Taking care of me that time. For being my friend.”
“No problem.” That was the lie of the century. Being Jolie’s friend had brought him nothing but problems for as long as he could remember. “Hey, do you want a friendly ride to the cocktail party tonight?”
“I’d like that.”
“Pick you up around five?”
“Great. I’ll see you then.”
Court sensed Jolie observing his retreat. Eat your heart out, Princess. He wasn’t that gangly, pathetic adolescent anymore. The one who’d adored her throughout school, the geek who scrambled for any bit of her affection.
He knew how to attract women. Yes, but you can’t hang onto them, his subconscious reminded him. He pushed that thought away. He wasn’t looking to hang on to Jolie Kramer. He wanted to get over her.
Yeah? Then explain your reaction yesterday when you hugged her. Court concentrated on watching as a robin ruffled its feathers in the birdbath so he wouldn’t be tempted to look back at Jolie. He refused to admit she could still affect him the way she always had.
He’d waited ten long years to prove to himself he was immune to her. If he couldn’t convince himself she no longer had the power to hurt him, he’d die trying.
Today was Friday. He had ten days to make sure he was no longer hung up on Jolie Kramer. Finally, he’d be free of the feelings he had for her. He’d walk away and never look back.
Jolie closed the door and leaned back against it. Giddy. There was no other word for the feeling she had. She hadn’t felt giddy in a long time.
She retraced her steps to the kitchen and poured more coffee. She stared at the remaining donuts. Had Court really remembered her favorite kind of donut? Or had he done a little research via her mother?
What had prompted his memory about her having the flu? What else did he remember?
What did she remember about him? Nothing specific came to mind. Court had simply always been there for her. A permanent fixture in the house next door. For a long time she’d never given much thought to him, and when she did, it was the sort of memory one might have about a childhood pet or a particular toy. Comforting, but without evoking any real emotion. She had trained herself not to think about the one night they had spent together—or the way she’d behaved toward him afterward.
But the adult Court set off an entire chain reaction of awareness and, she had to admit, interest. It seemed ridiculous but she almost wanted to ask him, “Where have you been all my life?” like some Hollywood film.
She’d wanted to say more, to somehow make amends for the way she’d behaved toward him. The apology she’d been working on tried to find a way out, but the timing was off.
But she had ten days, starting today, to make things right with Court.
Taking her coffee with her, she wandered back to her bedroom. It was still her room. Her mother hadn’t turned it into a sewing room or a den like some mothers did. Sue-Ellen had put away the posters that had at one time graced her walls and painted them a pale blue. There was certainly less clutter than when Jolie had occupied it. No photos stuck to the mirror, no make-up and jewelry scattered across the dresser top. Her jewelry box was still there, though.
Her Aunt Melonie had given the box to her for her tenth birthday. Black lacquer with a Far East motif and lots of small drawers to hold her treasures. She lifted the lid and the miniature ballerina sprang to life, twirling around the tiny mirrored dance floor to a haunting Japanese melody.
Jolie gently fingered the long-forgotten trinkets lying atop the faded pink satin lining. She opened one of the drawers and withdrew a locket on a gold chain. Where had this come from? She frowned, quite certain she’d never seen it before.
She opened the locket and stared. Inside were two pictures. One was her third grade school picture. She’d beamed at the camera, apparently proud of her missing tooth. The other was of Court at the same age, smiling his crowded-teeth smile from behind wire-framed glasses.
A very clear and vivid memory came to her. Court had given her this locket the day before she left for her internship.
Jolie sat in the swing on the front porch waiting for Chip to take her to Jenny Johnston’s pool party, and there Court was, hands shoved in his pockets. His hair, as usual, seemed to be going in six directions at once, and his glasses obscured the majority of his face.
She patted the seat next to her and he sat.
“I brought you something,” he said, and he handed her the small box wrapped in shiny red paper with a tiny white bow on top.
“Oh, Court. That’s so sweet.”
She opened the little box and withdrew the locket on its fine gold chain. “How pretty.” She gave Court her best, brightest smile of appreciation. She was leaving tomorrow. She could afford that much. The front of the locket was engraved with the word Friends in swirling script.
“Open it,” he suggested.
She did. She saw the beaming faces of those two eight-year-olds.
“It’s us,” he explained. “When we were in third grade.”
“Yes, I know.” She closed the locket and turned it over, rubbing her thumb across the inscription on the back. Forever. She chanced a quick look at Court again. What she saw in his eyes left no doubt as to what “forever” meant to him.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said. “I could apply to some schools in New York.” So he could be closer to her. That’s what he wasn’t saying.
She panicked. Despite appearances Courtney Harrison was a million miles
ahead of her in so many ways. He seemed to know things. He was sure of himself, of his direction in life. He was sure of her, too. Sure they belonged together. All she could think was, No, I’m not who you think I am. I can’t be what you want me to be.
What Court didn’t know was that the appeal of design school in New York, far away from everyone and everything familiar, was to let her reinvent herself. To be the Jolie she longed to be. Smart. Successful. Secure. But it wasn’t without risk. It could all fall apart like a house of cards. She didn’t want to be responsible for someone else’s life decisions when the ones she was making for herself seemed precarious at best.
A horn honked. At the curb Chip swerved to a stop in a shiny red Jeep and saved her from an even more awkward moment.
She hastily stuffed the locket back in the box and dropped both on the swing cushion before she hopped up. “There’s Chip.”
Court stood as well. He seemed about to say something.
“Let’s go, baby,” Chip hollered. He revved the Jeep’s engine and she practically ran to the driveway, looking over her shoulder only once to wave. “Thanks for the locket, Courtney. I’ll see you.”
She’d left Court standing there, hands in his pockets, hurt and disappointment written all over him.
After Jenny’s party she broke up with Chip. She’d come home to find the locket right where she’d left it. She buried it in her jewelry box, just as she’d buried her feelings for Court.
She closed the locket and turned it over. She opened the clasp and fastened the chain around her neck. Forever was a long time. But it didn’t seem quite so long as it had ten years ago.
Chapter Four
“Ready to go, Princess?”
Court grinned and Jolie felt her knees go weak. He leaned against the doorjamb, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit. Armani, if she wasn’t mistaken. She wondered if he’d ever considered modeling. He had the physique for it, the hair and the killer smile. Even the way he adjusted his cuffs right now looked like he was posing for the camera.
Courtney Harrison, male model. She shook her head at the thought. Who’d have thought someone as geeky as he’d been would turn into such a hunk?
“I’m not surprised,” Court said as he crossed the threshold.
Was he psychic, too? “You mean you always knew you’d turn out this way?” Then why didn’t you tell me?
Court cocked his head as if she were speaking a foreign language. He glanced at his watch. “Have you already had a few? I meant I wasn’t surprised that you aren’t ready yet.”
“What do you mean? Of course I’m ready.” She pirouetted for his inspection. What more could she possibly do? She’d bathed, shaved, exfoliated and moisturized. She’d painstakingly arranged her hair in an elegant upsweep and taken forever getting her make-up just right. The little black dress from Calvin Klein and the dainty Badgley Mischka high heels were sure to make the local heads turn. She doubted Oak Ridge had ever seen such high fashion within the city limits. She picked up her Chanel evening bag.
“Okay, then, let’s go,” Court said.
“Ah, ah! Not before I get a picture of the two of you.” Her mother appeared, holding a camera high. “Hello, Court. Don’t you look handsome this evening?”
“Hi, Mrs. Kramer. Thanks.”
“Come on, you two. For old times’ sake. Let me get a couple of shots before you leave.”
“Mother—” Jolie began, hoping to thwart her mother’s intentions.
“Where would you like us, Mrs. Kramer?” Court asked.
“How about right here, in front of the stairs?”
Jolie sighed, not inaudibly. She wished her mother would stop acting like this was prom night again.
She stood next to Court, clutching her bag. She didn’t want to get too close. She didn’t trust herself around him.
Her mother squinted at the camera’s small screen. “Oh, come on, you two. You can do better than that. You’ve known each other forever. You could at least act like it.” She waved Court closer to Jolie and he obliged.
He slid his arm around her waist and she stopped breathing. Her smile froze in place and the flash blinded her.
“Okay, one more.”
“Sure.” Court moved behind Jolie and looped his arms around her shoulders, his head next to hers. She swore she could feel him grin at the camera. Maybe he was a male model after all. The flash went off again.
“Perfect.”
“I didn’t mess up your hair or anything, did I, Princess?” Court asked. He winked at Mrs. Kramer.
“Here, why don’t you take the camera and use it at the party? I’m sure you’ll want pictures of all your old high school pals.”
She handed the camera to Court and he slid it into his pocket. “Thanks, Mrs. Kramer. I’ll try to get a few shots suitable for framing. If Princess here will oblige.”
Her mother tittered and made some inane comment in reply. Jolie wasn’t listening, glowering at both of them, but especially at Court. Her mother seemed entirely too fond of him.
He escorted her out the door to a black BMW parked by the curb. Jolie was impressed but she’d be damned if she’d act like it. She loved sports cars. Especially expensive black ones with good-looking men at the wheel.
Court made no attempt to impress her with flashy maneuvers or excessive speed. It was almost disappointing given the power under the hood. She had a hard time keeping her eyes off his hands. Every time he touched the gearshift it made her think of him touching her. His fingers curled around the steering wheel made her think of those fingers curled in her hair. While he kissed her. Slowly. Lavishly.
Her mind flashed back to his comment about his tongue and cream-filled donuts, and got stuck there.
“Cat got your tongue?”
He was psychic.
“Tongue? No, I was just thinking, that’s all.”
“Nervous?”
“No. Why should I be?”
Court slid her a sideways glance. “I don’t know. ’Cause you’re going to see all your old boyfriends, maybe?”
“Ha. They’re the ones who should be nervous.”
“Why’s that?”
Why was that? Why had she said that? In that particular tone of voice?
“Think they’ll all be eating their hearts out when they see you, huh?” Court asked. He sounded amused.
That was exactly what she’d been thinking. Sort of. But she’d be damned if she’d admit it. She was supposed to be here to fix the past, not gloat.
“No. I don’t know what I meant. Maybe I’m just nervous.” Now. Thanks to Court. “What about you? Are you nervous?”
“Not really. I’ve kept in touch with quite a few of the kids I hung out with in high school.”
“You didn’t stay in touch with me,” Jolie pointed out.
“No, I didn’t.”
Jolie wanted to ask why, but she was afraid she already knew the answer. She’d given Court no reason to believe she wanted anything to do with him once they’d graduated and gone their separate ways. A vague sense of disappointment settled over her.
What had he said to her that day he’d given her the locket? She tried to recall his exact words but couldn’t. Something about how he’d always be there for her.
The memory she’d buried most deeply, the one she wished she could forget now was the look on Court’s face when she’d glanced back as she and Chip drove away.
Thank goodness he no longer had a crush on her. He no longer cared about her as anything other than an old friend he hadn’t seen in ten years. She couldn’t hurt him any more and that was a good thing, wasn’t it?
Of course it was.
The Sunset View Supper Club was what passed for an upscale restaurant in Oak Ridge. The place did an imitation of class, but after spending much of her time in LA and living in the Big Apple, Jo
lie knew it fell short of the real deal.
Still, it was the place she remembered from earliest childhood where special occasions were celebrated. The food was good, if unremarkable. The furnishings were dated, but the linens were clean, the staff experienced.
Court allowed a teenage boy masquerading as a valet to park his car. Hadn’t he noticed the kid’s awe over a chance to get behind the wheel? He’d probably take it for a joy ride while they were inside, like in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.
“I can’t believe you let that kid park your car,” Jolie told him as they approached the restaurant.
“Why?”
“How can you trust him?”
“It’s just a car, Jolie.”
“Just a car? What planet are you from? It’s an M3. A fifty-thousand-dollar car. Most men I know wouldn’t let a kid like that get anywhere near it.”
“That says something about most of the men you know, doesn’t it? The car was a gift from a grateful client. I’m not overly attached to it.”
He opened the door and Jolie had to clench her jaw to keep it from dropping. How could Court be so nonchalant about such an expensive car? What sort of grateful client gave BMWs as gifts?
They approached the registration table where two vaguely familiar women were seated.
“Court,” they cried in unison, abandoning their posts to give him heartfelt hugs. Jolie hung back, feeling a bit left out. She thought one of them might be Erin Miller. Had Erin been drum majorette or captain of the dance team? Her features were animated, her smile genuine as she chatted it up with Court.
The other woman, who Jolie couldn’t place, was no less thrilled to see Court. Newcomers pressed up behind Jolie before the pair returned to the business of handing out nametags and checking guests off their lists.
Court peeled the adhesive back off his nametag. “You have one there for Jolie Kramer, don’t you? You remember Jolie.”
He tugged her forward. Jolie could see Erin’s nametag now. She gave Jolie a smile considerably less warm than the one she’d given Court. “Of course. Jolie Kramer. Good to see you again.”
Liar, Jolie thought.
Nobody's Fool Page 3