“I have to go, um, powder my nose.” She disentangled her hand from his and whirled away from him.
When she eventually returned to their table, Val and Krys were there holding hands. They’d refreshed their drinks as well as hers and Court’s.
“Where’s Court?” Jolie asked.
“At the bar. There’s some sort of sporting event on. He wanted to get the score,” Val said. “Isn’t this place fun? I’m so glad Krys thought of it.” He squeezed Krys’s hand. “Want to dance some more?”
Jolie was ready to call it a night. She’d had too much to drink and she hadn’t really relaxed. Not with Court so close. She had a full day of work tomorrow and she needed some sleep.
A hand clamped around her wrist and pulled her to her feet. “Dance with me. Quick.”
Court didn’t give her a chance to say no. He half dragged her back to the dance floor. The song was slower so they managed to move together without looking like fools, but Court had a haunted look in his eyes.
He swiveled his head around as if he was looking for someone.
“What’s wrong?” Jolie asked. “You’re awfully distracted.”
“I just want to make sure he gets the point.”
“He who?” Jolie looked around as well, expecting to see some shadowy figure lurking in a corner.
“The guy at the bar.”
“What guy at the bar?” Jolie felt a laugh building in her throat.
“He hit on me,” Court told her.
“He did?” She couldn’t hide her smile.
“It wasn’t funny.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t.”
“Stop laughing at me.”
“I’m not.” She laughed.
“I told him I wasn’t interested.”
“But he wouldn’t take no for an answer?” she asked innocently.
Court smiled at her. “Probably thought I was playing hard to get.”
“You do give off mixed signals at times.”
“Probably. Just like you.”
“Just like me what?” she asked.
“Your lips say no, no, no. But your eyes say yes, yes, yes!”
“Is that so? What is it they’re saying yes to?”
“This.”
Court kissed her. Maybe she was expecting it, maybe she wasn’t. Maybe he was still trying to prove a point. Jolie didn’t care why. She let him. She kissed him back. The song concluded and another overtook it. Heat washed over her along with a thousand memories of the Court who’d always been there for her.
The kiss ended and the lyrics of a new song pounded around them. Something about a wrecking ball. The singer wailed about how it all ever did was wreck her.
Jolie stared at Court. She’d let him wreck her, and she didn’t know if she could put the pieces of herself back together. She didn’t know if he could, either.
But she wanted to try.
Chapter Seventeen
Normally Jolie wouldn’t set foot outside her bedroom without her hair done, make-up on and otherwise appropriately attired, but she couldn’t bring herself to care at the moment. No matter what she did, she wasn’t going to look or feel any better. Whatever bug she’d caught at the club, it had invited all its friends. Only now were they starting to call for cabs home. All she wanted was a cup of tea laced with honey and to go back to sleep, even though she was sick of staying in bed.
She shuffled down the hall, tying the belt of her robe around her waist. A collective roar went up from the living room. She paused before she realized she didn’t have to worry. Neither Court nor his friends were going to notice or hear her. They were too engrossed in the baseball game.
She rummaged through Court’s pantry until she came up with a box of tea bags. She filled a mug and popped it in the microwave, then found some honey in the cabinet reserved for breakfast foods.
She sneezed, her nose started to run and her eyes began to water. She’d forgotten to bring a tissue with her so she tore a paper towel from the roll, propped her elbows on the counter and pressed it to her leaky eyes.
“You okay?” Court asked.
She hastily wiped her nose before straightening and shoving the damp paper towel into her robe pocket. “Just making some tea.” The microwave beeped. She kept her back to him while she fiddled with the tea bag and the hot mug.
Go away. Silently she cursed Melina and Melina’s demanding family for putting her in Court’s house, and for the fact she was sick and stuck here with him. For him being nice to her when she was feeling so low.
She dribbled honey into the mug, aware of Court watching her. He slid a drawer open and a spoon appeared in front of her.
“Thank you.” She stirred her tea. She didn’t want him to see her like this, although, really, what did it matter? The last thing she wanted was to go back to his guest bedroom. She was bored out of her mind, tired of sleeping and sneezing and blowing her nose. She wanted to climb the walls.
“Want to watch the game for a while?” Court asked, displaying his psychic abilities once again.
She chanced a look his way. “I don’t want to disturb you guys.”
“It’s the bottom of the eighth. Atlanta’s going to win.”
She gestured at herself. “I’m sick and I’m really not dressed.”
“In that case, try not to sneeze on us.” He took in her fluffy pink robe, the cotton pajamas and furry striped socks peeking out from the bottom. “You’re covered. And not likely to start a riot.”
Translation: None of those guys will be attracted to you. Including me.
She withdrew the crumpled paper towel and dabbed at her running nose again. “If you say so.” She picked up her mug and followed him to the living room.
Her entrance got barely a glance from the half-dozen men in the room. “Guys, this is Jolie. Jolie, the guys.”
Murmured acknowledgments came her way, but their eyes remained glued to the giant plasma screen. There were runners on second and third with two outs. The Braves were up four-one.
Court gestured for her to sit at one end of the leather sofa so she could set her mug on the end table next to it. Apparently this was the seat he’d vacated earlier because it was the only empty spot in the room. He squeezed in next to her, causing the other two occupants to squish in farther.
“You can put the footrest up, you’ll probably be more comfortable.”
Jolie flipped the lever on the side of the sofa. She leaned back into the cushiony leather, took a sip of tea and looked around. Scattered about the room were empty beer and soda bottles along with chip bags and paper plates. A tray held the picked-over remains of sandwiches. The assembled men were all thirty-ish and athletic, dressed in polo shirts and various khaki shorts.
Jolie tried to concentrate on the game, but her brain was a cotton-filled haze right now. She sipped her tea and pretended not to notice Court’s thigh pressed against hers.
When she woke it was to find her head on Court’s shoulder, her arm across his chest and her mouth wide open. Horrified, she tried to sit up, only to discover his arm was around her back and they were half lying on the sofa with their feet on the footrest.
Court must have been napping as well because he moved his arm and stretched, then turned and smiled at her. The room was empty except for the two of them. A sports talk show was on the TV at low volume. “How long have I been asleep?”
Court glanced at his watch. “An hour maybe? Hour and a half? You nodded off during the post-game recap.”
“Everybody left? I didn’t even hear them.”
“They were quiet. Very unlike them.”
Jolie’s stomach growled. She also needed to pee. She disentangled herself from Court and the all-too-comfy sofa.
“Can I make you some soup or something? Toast?” Court asked.
Jolie stood and retighte
ned her belt. “You don’t have to take care of me.”
Court gave her a look. “It’s just a bowl of soup, Jo. Not a commitment.”
What had happened to them, Jolie wondered. Why couldn’t they get past this animosity that had sprung up between them? She should be able to get over it, put it behind her. But she couldn’t.
She was in love with Court and he didn’t give a damn about her. Not in that way. He wanted to hurt her. Well, maybe not anymore, but he had once and he’d succeeded. Bottom line, she couldn’t trust him. She always had to look for his ulterior motives. Like when he’d kissed her on the dance floor. Had he just been playing with her? She didn’t know but she wouldn’t allow herself to be fooled again.
It was, however, just soup. “I’d love a bowl, thanks. I’m going to take a shower and then I’ll be back.”
The shower revived her and she couldn’t believe how much better she felt afterward. Maybe she was almost over this awful cold or flu bug. Once dry she donned a pair of faded jeans and a cotton pullover thick enough so she didn’t have to bother with a bra. She moisturized around her nose, which was still a bit red.
In the kitchen, Court stirred soup simmering in a pan on the stove. He turned the burner off when he saw her. He seemed to be taking in every detail of her. Jolie thought there was a glimpse of appreciation in his eyes but given her condition that was wishful thinking.
“Ready?” he asked.
He’d put out bread and cheese and some grapes on the table along with a box of crackers, then ladled the soup into two bowls.
She poured herself a soft drink and took a seat. “Thanks.”
They ate in silence. Jolie couldn’t think of anything to say to Court that wouldn’t take them places she didn’t want to go. Everything seemed to have a double meaning these days. She had no wish to open the wounds they were trying to let heal. Hers were too fresh and his ran too deep.
“I’ll clean up,” she said when she’d finished. She scooted her chair back and carried her dishes to the sink. He didn’t argue, but began clearing the table and putting away the uneaten food and bringing his dishes to her. She loaded the dishwasher, rinsed the sink and wiped the counter nearby.
She set the sponge down and had finished drying her hands when she sensed Court right behind her. He slid his arms around her and rested his head against hers. Surely he wasn’t going to try to seduce her. Not when she was still getting over this bug.
“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he said softly.
“Do what?”
“Tense up every time you’re near me.”
What did he expect, that she’d throw her arms around him?
“I’m sorry, Jolie. I can say it a thousand times but you’ll never believe it, will you? I had to prove something to myself and it got out of hand. I never once thought about you getting hurt. I’m sorry. I ruined everything.”
Her thoughts whirled in confusion. Court sounded sincere. Maybe he meant what he said. But she didn’t see how she could take that chance. If he threw it all back in her face a second time, she didn’t know what she would do.
“What—what did you have to prove?” She hated that her voice sounded so shaky.
“That I was over you. But I’m not. I never will be.”
He lifted her hair away from her neck and touched his lips to her skin. Warmth edged with excitement rippled through her. He kept his lips on her skin, touching all those sensitive places, behind and below her ear, along her throat. “I wish,” he murmured. “I want—”
His hands floated up under her sweater along her midriff, lighting a fire everywhere they touched. Jolie made a sound in her throat, thinking she’d voice her objection, tell him to get his hands off her. Who did he think he was? But no words came out and Court seemed to take that as encouragement.
His hands moved higher, discovering she wore no bra. He made a small sound of surprise and pressed her closer. Jolie was frozen in place because everything Court did made her want him to do more. She couldn’t seem to find the words or the will to push him away, even though she should.
He turned her around and kissed her for real, making no effort to hide how much he wanted her. She wanted him too, but the memory of his behavior at the lake, the way he’d shut her out wouldn’t go away.
He was right. He could apologize a thousand times but she’d never be able to trust him. For such a long time he’d been the only person she could trust. He’d ruined that trust, but she’d ruined it first. What had seemed so simple had become so complicated. Sadness welled up inside her at what they could have had together.
She pushed at his chest and wrested her mouth away from his. “Stop. Stop it.”
He eased his embrace and looked at her. She didn’t care if he saw the tears in her eyes. She didn’t wipe them away. “I can’t do this.”
“Jolie—”
She straightened herself and raised her chin, putting force behind her words. “I don’t want to do this.”
She turned and left him there. A tiny part of her hoped he would follow. A bigger part was disappointed when he didn’t.
Chapter Eighteen
For what felt like the seventeenth time that day, Melina interrupted Jolie. At the rate she was going the collection would never be ready for the Atlanta show. “Dahlink, I want you to design wedding dress. For me.”
Jolie’s ears perked up at the words “wedding dress.”
She dragged her attention away from the mannequin. “Are you—did Ricky—I mean, are you engaged?”
Melina offered a tinkling laugh. “You are silly girl. No, I want you to design wedding dress for me to wear in show. I plan out in my head. Last night when I cannot sleep.”
“Melina, I can’t design another wedding dress in time for the show. I’ve already designed one for the finale.” Jolie didn’t mention that she’d also picked out the model for the look and that she was Melina’s polar opposite. That dress wouldn’t work on Melina at all. “I may not even finish the collection by then. You change every look at least ten times. You’ve given me an impossible deadline and there’s still a lot to do. We’ll be lucky to get the catalog ready in time for Fashion Week. This isn’t Project Runway. You can’t keep adding projects at the last minute and expect it to be done quickly. I’m only one person.”
“You need assistant. I should hire another designer?” Melina gave Jolie a sincere, questioning look, as if she’d never heard any of Jolie’s protests before.
“An assistant would be wonderful but it’s a little late in the game now. All I’m saying is another wedding dress? Now? It’s not possible.”
Melina put her arm around Jolie so they stood shoulder to shoulder. “Jolie. Everything is possible. In my country they tell me I cannot be tennis star. I cannot be on professional circuit. I will never win tournaments. I do not listen and look where I am. If I say no, I not try. If I say yes, I know I can do. You say no too much. I want you to say yes.”
This was the game Melina played. She cajoled and nudged and brought up her own experience of beating impossible odds to get where she was today. Jolie wished she had Melina’s drive and enthusiasm. She did once. But somewhere along the way she’d lost it.
For a moment Jolie hated Melina almost as much as she admired her. As soon as Melina stepped away and put a bit of distance between them Jolie looked at Melina and inspiration struck. Melina, with her gorgeous athletic figure and long limbs. Her mane of hair and her expressive features. The personality, sense of humor and charisma she carried with her wherever she went.
Jolie pictured a design that incorporated metallics, maybe a pink pearlized sheer underneath white glitter satin. Slits in the skirt, sleeves and bodice where the metallic would show through and catch the light. A simple but sensational look that would catch the facets of Melina as a successful woman who made her own rules. Jolie knew she could design a dress that said, �
�there’s more to me than meets the eye.”
Jolie hid her excitement. It wouldn’t do to let Melina know she was itching to grab her sketchpad. “All right. Yes,” Jolie said in a grumbling tone.
“You see? It is easy.”
“On one condition.”
Melina waited.
“I design it. You wear it. You don’t get to make any changes this time. You’ve always had great suggestions and I trust your opinion, but this is different. This has to be mine. You have to trust me.” Besides, it would be the only way they stood a chance of getting it done on time.
Melina smiled. “Okay. Is deal.” She offered her hand and Jolie shook it. As soon as Melina left Jolie grabbed her sketchpad.
She worked for more than an hour, aware only of the whir of the sewing machine as Sophina and Danica worked on the pieces they’d discussed earlier. Sophina’s earbuds blocked out any distractions, her naturally quiet nature suited for listening to music while she worked. Danica was shy, patient and spoke even less English than Sophina. But she had a gift for detail work.
Jolie built up several pages of notes, ideas and sketches as she discarded one after another until her plan gelled into a look she was pleased with.
She tapped Sophina on the shoulder. “I’m going to the fabric store.” Sophina nodded.
Jolie was still engrossed in her notes when she stepped into the hallway and collided with Court.
Her insides trilled with excitement when he grabbed her arm to steady her.
“Oh. Hello, Court.”
“Jolie. You’re certainly in a hurry.” Court seemed amused by her distracted bustle.
“Yes. I’m on my way to the fabric store.” She clutched the sketchpad to her chest like some kind of shield.
“Ah. I was on my way to lunch. Since you’re headed out anyway, why don’t you join me?”
Jolie’s first instinct was to say no. Absolutely not. But if she did that he’d know the reason why. Because he could still get to her. Because she still cared.
Nobody's Fool Page 16