“What’s the matter, Princess? Having a tough day?”
Jolie looked up. Once again, she hadn’t heard him walk up, but there was Court, dressed in running shorts and sneakers. No shirt to cover his toned and tanned torso. Okay, so she’d lied before. She did know a man she’d consider procreating with.
Why was he so blasted cheerful all the time? She regarded him from her perch, chin in hand, her elbow resting on one knee. “Why do you keep calling me ‘Princess’?”
He grinned that irritating, knowing grin of his, displaying those perfectly aligned teeth. There was no mistaking the twinkle in his eyes, either. He put his hands on his hips, drawing her gaze down to take in his chest with its sworls of dark hair and abs any guy would be proud of.
“I don’t know. It suits you. I think of you as someone who has everything she wanted and lords it over everyone else. The rest of us are just peasants here to do her bidding.”
“Is that how you think of me?” Tears pricked the backs of her eyes again. What was that, the third time that day? What was wrong with her? What did she really care what Sarah—or Court for that matter—thought of her? She’d be gone from Oak Ridge in a week. If she played her cards right, it’d be another ten years before she saw either of them again.
Court’s voice softened as if he knew he’d struck a nerve. “No, not really. I think that’s the way you think of yourself, though.”
She gave a defiant look to cover how close he’d hit to the mark. “You’re saying I’m selfish and shallow? That I don’t care about anyone but myself, and I don’t care who I hurt?”
“Whoa, wait, a minute. Where’s this coming from?”
She looked away. “Nothing. Never mind.”
He stayed there, watching her, but she couldn’t meet his gaze. She wondered if Court felt the same way Sarah did. Had her callous handling of his feelings pushed him into some positive life changes?
“I was going to run down to Sutter’s Mill and back. Want to come with me?”
“Run? That’s got to be at least two miles.”
“And two miles back. How ’bout it?”
“I don’t run.”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot. You have one of those curtained sedans your slaves carry you around in just like Cleopatra.”
She tried not to smile at that image and failed.
“Come on. A four-mile run won’t kill you. I’m sure you work out.”
“Ha. Working out in a gym is not the same thing as running.”
“If you can’t make it, I’ll let you walk and then I’ll buy you dinner.”
“That’s not much incentive for me to run, is it?”
“Okay, we’ll race. Loser buys dinner.”
Jolie squinted at him. Court was in excellent physical shape. No way could she beat him, but she’d give it her best shot. Either way, she had a dinner date to look forward to. Just what she needed to distract her from her dark and brooding thoughts.
She got up, brushing down her skirt. “You’re on. I’ll go change.”
Twenty minutes later they were on the gravel road that led to Sutter’s Mill. Abandoned now, the mill had been an Oak Ridge landmark for over a hundred years. It was conveniently located next to Sutter’s Creek, a small tributary to the Fox River.
There were worse things to be doing on a fall afternoon, Jolie supposed. She’d managed to keep up with Court, although his idea of a run seemed to be more along the lines of a comfortable jog.
“You don’t have to go easy on me, you know,” she told him. Dinner tonight was already in the bag. It didn’t matter to her whether she won or lost, it’s how she played the game that mattered.
Now why had that old saying popped into her head? Was her subconscious working on her? She was getting pretty tired of these subliminal messages.
“I’m not going easy on you,” Court told her. “I’m pacing myself.”
“How often do you run?”
“Every day if I can. I have since high school.”
“Really? I don’t remember you running in high school.”
“No reason why you should, I suppose. I lettered in track my senior year. Cross country. Only sport I was any damn good at.”
Why did being with Court make her feel so bad yet at the same time so good? For the first time in her life, she was seriously interested in a man for himself, not for what he represented. She’d never really worried whether or not the men she dated liked her. What was not to like? She was attractive, financially independent and could carry on a conversation.
But with Court she wanted him to like her. She didn’t particularly care if he found her sexy, but something in her yearned for his approval. His friendship. And something told her she fell short of ever having either.
“It all seems like a blur to me, senior year,” she said. “I think I must have been oblivious to just about everyone. Except myself, of course.”
“I remember you were dead set on getting a summer internship with some designer. You were a nervous wreck over your application. I think you changed your mind a million times about which designs to submit.”
“You remember that? I showed them to you?”
“I was barely a blip on your radar, wasn’t I?” Court asked good-naturedly. “Of course you did. About every three days. I remember the wedding dress the best. I could easily picture you in it.”
Jolie didn’t know what to say to that. She remembered the wedding dress she’d designed as well. Drawn in every detail, made copious notes about the lining and draping.
“I don’t know why you even bothered with me back then. I wasn’t very nice to you.”
Court slanted a look at her as they jogged. “A glutton for punishment, I guess.”
The mill came into view as he sped up, cutting off further conversation. They made the turnaround without breaking stride.
Jolie decided the smart thing would be to stop talking about the past for now. If she dredged up any more bad memories, he might think better of his dinner invitation and withdraw it altogether.
Since returning to Oak Ridge, she hadn’t figured out much, but there was one thing she knew for sure. She wanted to spend more time with Courtney Harrison. Lots more.
Court turned around and jogged backwards. “Come on, Princess. We’ve only got about another mile and a half.”
Jolie waved him off. She’d slowed to a walk and had one hand pressed to the stitch in her side. “You win. I’ll buy dinner.”
“Awww, a four-mile run too much for you?” Court came back to her and swung her up in his arms, twirling her around. “Want me to carry you home?”
Jolie squealed with laughter and surprise. At the same time she was all too aware of her breast against him, of Court securely holding her, one arm under her knees, the other beneath her shoulders, of his male scent enhanced by sunshine and exertion. She’d locked her arms around his neck when he’d swooped her up. She wanted, oh, how she wanted to kiss him. Her nipples tightened into buds at the thought. He was watching her, not with passion but curiosity, but as if he wanted to see what she would do next.
She didn’t know what to do. She hadn’t been able to get a handle on Court since he’d wowed her on her parents’ back porch. He’d given no indication that he had anything other than a friendly interest in her. He didn’t flirt with her, unless the donut incident counted.
She was beginning to feel like a butterfly, but not in a free or liberated sense. More like pinned down for inspection and study. She certainly wasn’t going to throw herself at Court and have him tell her he wasn’t interested.
As quickly as it came, her laughter was shattered by uncertainty. She’d be better off if Court never touched her again, she decided. There was too much room for doubt here. “You can put me down now.”
He released her, letting her slide down his body until she was standing on her
own, albeit a bit unsteadily. She knew her shakiness had nothing to do with the two miles she’d just run and everything to do with Court’s touch.
She couldn’t believe how easily he turned her on. Yet he acted like he had no clue.
Having regained her equilibrium, she set off at a fast walk. She might just go ahead and run that last mile after all. Adrenaline fueled by…what? Annoyance with her own body’s reactions? Excitement? Sexual frustration?
Court kept pace with her but he also kept quiet, which gave her even more time to think. She picked up speed until she was jogging and sprinted the last quarter mile, wishing she could outrun her confusion, wishing she didn’t feel like Court was a step ahead of her all the time, that he was expecting something from her.
They reached the driveway of her parents’ house at the same time. She wished that meant they were evenly matched, but she was pretty sure Court had the edge.
He tugged on her ponytail. “You know how to give a guy a run for his money.”
“Ha. You weren’t even trying.”
“So are we still on for dinner? Say six o’clock?”
“Six it is.”
She trailed up the walk, reluctant to end her time with Court, but also anxious to get away from him. She needed to get herself under control. She also needed to decide what to wear.
Jolie remembered that old saying about the Illinois weather: If you don’t like it, stick around; it’ll change. Today had been warm but with a breeze and a touch of that fall coolness yet to come. Once the sun went down it would probably be chilly.
She’d debated about bringing the black suede skirt and vest. It was classic and one of her favorite outfits. Dinner with Court was the perfect place for it. Paired with a silver silk long-sleeved shirt, it was casually but expensively sexy. Black hose and heels showed off her legs.
As she prepared for her date, she decided she was being silly allowing Court to make her feel so off-balance. If she wanted him, she’d go on the offensive, she decided. Use every feminine trick she’d acquired to drive a man wild. Court might be turned off. He might tell her he really wasn’t interested. But at least he wouldn’t be indifferent to her anymore.
When she opened the door she knew the effort she’d gone to had paid off. Court’s eyes flashed with interest before they slid back to a friendly twinkle.
Why was he being coy? They were adults, after all, not a couple of awkward teens. Surely he must sense her interest? Why hadn’t he made a move?
She flashed him her brightest smile. She didn’t have to fake that. She was genuinely looking forward to their evening together. “I’m ready. Let me tell Mom I’m leaving.”
Court followed her to the kitchen where her mother was putting the finishing touches on their own dinner.
“Hello, Court. My, don’t you look handsome.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Kramer.”
In Jolie’s opinion he looked good enough to eat—lightweight collared pullover in pale yellow and dark gray trousers? Yum!
“We’re leaving now, Mom. Don’t wait up.” She pecked her mother on the cheek. Jolie couldn’t miss the look of fondness her mother had. Was there also a calculating gleam there?
Don’t bother, she wanted to tell her mother. I can handle this all by myself. Court’s touch on her back sent a heated tingle up her spine. “Ready to go?”
Her earlier confidence evaporated. She wasn’t sure she could handle anything anymore. Especially not where this man was concerned. If she wasn’t careful, she’d melt into a pool at his feet. All he had to do was touch her again.
She shook off the tingle. Chemistry. That’s all it was. Ridiculously strong sexual chemistry. “Bye, Mom.”
“Bye, Mrs. Kramer.”
“Good-bye you two. Court, you take good care of my little girl.”
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Kramer. I’ve got everything under control.”
Liar, Court thought as he started the car. But he’d be okay as long as he kept his eyes off Jolie’s legs. And her eyes. Her hair and her mouth.
Who was he kidding? This was going to be a night to remember.
He had to focus on his goal. He had a point to prove to himself. He was over Jolie. She could walk all over people, use them, throw their feelings back in their faces. But he wouldn’t be one of them. Not anymore.
He wouldn’t fall for her again, wouldn’t tell her how he’d felt all those years ago or what she’d done to him when she’d left. He’d get the hell out of Dodge before he made a fool of himself by letting on that he still had a thing for her. That was the plan, anyway.
Jolie looked puzzled as he turned into the parking lot of Smokey’s Grill & Chill and parked. “You’re kidding, right?”
Court grinned. “Why not? We’re old enough now.”
“But—but,” she sputtered as Court got out and came around to open the door for her. Smokey’s was the closest thing Oak Ridge had to a biker bar. Situated on the outskirts of town, the ramshackle building was surrounded by a dilapidated wooden deck, which held an assortment of scarred tables and chairs. A few were occupied, the tabletops crowded with beer bottles, baskets of wings and fries and overflowing ashtrays.
The clientele ranged from the barely legal to clearly geriatric. The dress code consisted of scuffed jeans or overalls paired with T-shirts, along with baseball caps and work boots.
“I think I’m overdressed,” Jolie said.
“It’ll be fine.” He reached for her hand. “The food’s good, believe it or not. I’ll even let you beat me in a game of pool.”
“In that case, how can I refuse?” She took his hand, and a wave of longing went through her, along with a touch of melancholy. Court had made it clear that all he wanted from her was friendship, hadn’t he? She recalled the flare of interest she’d glimpsed in his eyes when she’d first opened the door. Was friendship really all he wanted?
A low whistle rose from the group on the deck as Jolie and Court ascended the steps. “Hey, baby.” From the corner of her eye, Jolie saw Court gesture in their direction, a sort of chopping motion. Quiet descended.
They went inside. Their arrival was acknowledged by turned heads and a brief drop in the hum of conversation. “I wish you’d told me where we were going,” Jolie murmured. “I wouldn’t have worn this.”
“Are you kidding? You look fantastic. Besides, this place could do with a little class. What do you want to drink?”
Ordering a glass of white wine might be a mistake. Beer, which she rarely drank, seemed like her best bet. “Light beer,” she replied. “Imported, if they have it.”
She stayed close to Court while the bartender got their orders. She wasn’t immune to the admiring glances—or in some cases, outright leers—directed her way. She felt like a fish out of water and wondered if Court had planned it that way.
He turned with two bottles of beer in one hand, held by the necks between his fingers. He nodded in the direction of the pool tables. “There’s one open. Want to play?”
Jolie lifted her chin. She had the feeling Court was playing some sort of game, but it had nothing to do with pool. Although she’d given up playing such games herself, she still remembered how. “Sure, why not?”
They made their way to the table. She set her purse down and Court handed her one of the bottles as he racked the balls. He came around and handed her a pool stick.
“What?” he asked.
“Did you bring me here to make me feel uncomfortable?”
“No, of course not.” His face fell as he looked around. “Is it that bad? I thought it would be fun. Didn’t you always want to come in here when you were a kid? I did. A bunch of us tried to get in with fake IDs.” He smiled at the memory. “Smokey kicked us out on our asses.” The smile faded. “I’m sorry. This was probably a bad idea. We can go to the Cedar View.” He moved to take the cue stick away from her.
&n
bsp; “I’m being a snob, aren’t I?” She didn’t know if she’d meant to say that aloud or not.
“No, no, that’s not what I said.”
“You don’t have to.” Jolie looked into Court’s eyes. “That’s how I behaved in high school, like I was too good for just about everybody. I tell myself I’ve changed, but then I still act this way. Until someone points it out to me.”
“Jolie—”
She wrested the pool stick back from him and walked around the table. She picked up the chalk then lined up the cue ball. “Let’s stay.” She broke, dropping one ball in a side pocket. “You said the food’s good. And you’re right, I was always curious about this place.”
Chapter Seven
Jolie drank too much beer. She leaned heavily on Court as they descended the steps from Smokey’s to the car. Her limbs were loose, but her nerve endings buzzed with awareness over every move Court made.
They’d played pool, trading friendly insults throughout the match. By the time they found a table and ordered food, she’d already had a mild buzz from two beers on an empty stomach.
Over racks of ribs, piles of fries and heaps of coleslaw, they’d fallen into easy conversation. Another beer loosened Jolie’s tongue even further. She told Court about her meeting with Sarah, about Jeff and the accident, about trying to change her ways.
But no amount of alcohol would make her cross the line and tell Court how she’d felt all those years ago. How scared and unsure she’d been, not knowing who she could trust or what she was doing. She certainly couldn’t bring up how she’d treated him at the end. She wasn’t even sure herself why she’d pushed him away. Court would expect an explanation, but what could she tell him?
On the ride home, Court lowered the windows and opened the sunroof. The crisp night air played havoc with her hair, but it also invigorated her. By the time they reached Wildwood Lane she felt more alive than she had in years. She didn’t fool herself. The feeling had less to do with fresh air than it did with being so close to Court…and the beer didn’t hurt.
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