She wiped her lips with a tiny piece of a napkin and stood. “You’re right.” Her hand found a place on her hip. “You really want to come to the wedding?” Hope formed in her voice.
“Sure.”
Her smile grew, making his heart beat faster.
“But maybe we should get together one night this week and go over the stuff for the banquet. That is what we’ve been told to do. How’s Thursday night?” she asked.
Heath nodded. “Thursday will work.”
“You can pick the place. I want it all to be above board, so wherever you’re comfortable.”
“Sounds good,” he replied, taking out his keys. “I’ve got your number. I’ll call you.”
CHAPTER 3
Joy reclined on the couch, her feet propped on her tiny square coffee table, and pictured Heath as he’d been at lunch. Blond hair cut short, broad shoulders, a chest that filled out any shirt he wore. He really was amazing. Add to that, his compliments today, and her emotions became involved. She couldn’t quite accept that anyone as great as he seemed to be actually found any interest in her.
So far, she’d not mentioned him or the Valentine’s Day banquet or even what’d happened Sunday night to her sister. She’d only sent a brief text about repaying the cab fare.
Her need to be private about him was unlike her. Before, any other possible relationships she’d had, however flighty, she’d shared the news immediately, prattling on about the guy’s assets, both physical and financial. With Heath, that felt like sacrilege. He struck her as a very private person, and perhaps, that was part of his reluctance where she was concerned.
There was also work to consider. He was new, which would naturally make him edgy, and though she knew of an office romance or two, they were never received well. Just the same, she really looked forward to Thursday night, though technically, they’d be working, and thinking of Saturday, showing up on his arm for her sister’s wedding, made her head light.
What was his motive for mentioning it? Had he asked because he wanted to be with her? Or was it guilt over his date’s behavior at lunch? Did it even matter?
Joy swallowed, her throat suddenly tight. It mattered because she wanted him to be perfect … the kind, romantic man of her dreams, who made her blood race, her breath catch.
“Why, Heath Olson, do you drive me batty?”
“Thanks for meeting me here.”
Joy met Heath’s gaze and took a seat across the table. She dropped the folder Natalie had given her beneath her nose, laying one hand atop, and took in the sparse surroundings.
Heath’s choice of meeting place must have some significance to him because, otherwise, she couldn’t see much reason for entering. It appeared to be some sort of military club. Square wooden tables set with a mishmash of chairs led up to a glass counter filled with all sorts of military knickknacks. More insignia from different branches of the service lined the walls between austere photos of ranking officers.
“I admit to being curious,” she said. “I pass this place all the time …”
“Spent a lot of time here after I returned.”
“Right. You were in the service?”
He nodded. “Four years, half in Germany. I actually have six months left on my time in reserve.”
That was interesting and explained him being so fit.
“You didn’t want to reenlist?”
“Contemplated it, then decided I was only thinking about it at all because of my dad.”
“Ah …” Joy reclined. “There’s a topic I want to know. You respect him. That’s obvious, but seems like you want your space.”
Heath smiled. “Summed up nicely. Dad was a career soldier, dawn to dusk, seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day. He ran us boys like a military camp. Everything was a drill. Looking back, I respect that, but I think I needed more chances to be a kid.”
“Boys? So you have brothers?”
“One. Younger.”
He didn’t expand on that, though she did want to know. Instead, she offered something about herself. “Well, as I said before, it’s just me and my sister now. But my dad was … I guess it’s best to say, a romantic. He’s the guy in all those mushy Valentine’s Day commercials, the ones that make you tear up?”
Heath smiled. “You get it from him.”
She contemplated that. “I guess so. He worshipped our mom, only ever said the most glowing things about her. She was an actress in her younger years, did bit parts in local plays. My sister has a few memories, but Mom died … cancer … when I was about six months old. There’s a picture of me and her I like. She’s looking down at me in her arms. It’s very sweet at first glance. At second glance, you start to notice how thin she is.” Joy released a long breath. “Anyhow, here I go being all sad, and we have this happy occasion to plan for.”
Grabbing the folder, she flipped it open and started to slide it across the table, but Heath stood, leaving her there, and crossing the room, removed a photo from the wall. He toted it back and set it in front of her.
“Dad?” she asked.
The man in the image was an older version of Heath, only harder-edged, with a bullish expression. Still, he was handsome like his son.
“Colonel Maxwell Olson, United States Marines.”
“Oorah,” she replied.
Heath laughed, his face straightening afterward. “I owe him a lot, both good and bad. He taught me determination and discipline, to set my mind to things and get them done. To never give up in a bad situation, but look for a way to turn it around.” His gaze lifted, one hand remaining on the image. “But sometimes, he holds me back, and I can’t get out of the box he’s put me in.”
“Terrible thing, boxes.” Joy reached for the image, sliding it from his grip. “They keep you from enjoying life, yet don’t really supply all that much support. But here’s the truth …” She held the photo of Heath’s dad beside her face, facing Heath. “The box is usually a mirage put there by our own imaginations. Oh, sometimes situations we’ve encountered fit into it, but freedom is only two steps away.”
Lowering the photo. She slid two forms from the folder. “List of sponsors. Tell me what you see.”
Heath dipped his head, studying it, and his brow wrinkled. He rubbed one finger across. “A lack of military men.”
“Exactly. This is a military banquet minus anyone in the military. I say we change that and invite the people who make our ability to walk outside the box possible.”
The front door to the club opened and three uniformed servicemen entered. One wandered to an old jukebox, stuck in some change and selected a song. A popular tune from yesteryear pealed through the speakers, spilling words of longing and wishfulness.
“Let’s make this banquet about them,” Joy said. “Free of charge.”
Heath’s eyebrows arched. “Natalie won’t like that.”
“Ah … but here’s the kicker. Free of charge to servicemen, but I imagine in that beautiful head of yours you know people who’d support them. Plus, we get the media involved. That’s task number one. Press will sell it and garner more support. I have a girlfriend …” She waved one hand. “Long story, but she works at the local station. Secondly … we invite the sponsors you’re already naming to yourself.”
He smiled.
“Third, I want to make a video.”
“A video?”
Joy nodded. “Love stories from military men to their spouses. There’s probably a lot of them out there, so we’ll have to find the super sappy ones … but I want it to span generations. We’ll reach back into the past as well as look at the future. Again, I know someone who can put it all together, but you’re in charge of the names.”
His lack of response worried her the more time passed. Then he stood and stuck out his hand. She stared at his palm for the longest, traveling her gaze to his face, and lost whatever she’d been going to say in the midst of the pain mirrored there. Something had happened to make him reluctant, and whatever it was, he carri
ed it still. She didn’t comment on it, but lowered her hand into his.
He drew her to her feet. “Dance with me.”
She made no protest and folded against him. Warm and firm, his cologne tickling her nostrils, she laid her cheek to his chest and inhaled. They swayed in silence until the song ended.
“I’ll make you a list of names,” he said.
She nodded.
“What time Saturday do I pick you up? And tell me where.”
“The wedding’s at three, but I have to be there at noon. You … you sure you want to do this? It’ll be a lot of running around after me, and I don’t want to mess up your day.”
Though the song had ended, Heath never released his hold. If anything, he tightened it, and once more, she felt the weight of his thoughts.
“A certain beautiful woman in a tight black dress says I need to climb out of the box.”
Joy smiled up at him. “Saturday, the dress will be a horrid pink, but I can wear black lingerie, if you like.”
Heath chuckled and finally stepped back. “You do that. Give me something to think about at night.”
“You want something to think about, I’ll send you a picture.”
His laughter increased, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Daddy did name me ‘Joy’,” she said.
Heath muffled his amusement, though it remained on his face. “Your dad was a wise man.”
Joy kicked the refrigerator door shut with one foot, a carton of milk balanced in one hand, the telephone tucked between her shoulder and ear on the opposite side. Juggling a box of cereal as well, she deposited both the milk and the cereal on the kitchen island and fell down onto a stool.
“I had a business meeting that kept me out late. I’m supposed to organize a fundraiser the company is doing.”
Reaching around the end of the island, she slid open a drawer and extracted a spoon.
“Anyhow, I’m sorry I missed your call, but see? You’re okay this morning. It’s just wedding jitters. Come Saturday, you and Grady will sail through the ceremony … Right.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure he’s thinking only of you at his bachelor party in the same manner you were only thinking of him at the Fox ‘N Hound.”
She released a laugh at her sister’s response.
“Hey, it’s all in fun. Although … what do you remember from that night?”
Joy sighed. “Same here. I’m totally blank, and I swear am not touching a drop of alcohol ever again. However much you paid that cabbie to get us safely home, it wasn’t enough … Yeah, I still owe you the fare. I’ll pay up … But wait … Before you go. I … I’m bringing a date Saturday. Yes, that’s what I said … a date. D-a-t-e. Guy at work volunteered to come. I think we have chemistry … No, no conflict. He’s in a different department on a different floor.” No need to get into company politics. “Anyhow, I’ll let you go, sis. Love you much.”
Her sister was gone in a split second, and Joy sat there, for a moment, staring blindly at the opposite wall, then reached for the cereal. She poured a bowl, but didn’t eat it, as much as stir it around. Gazing over top the soon gelatinous mass, she returned to the look in Heath’s eyes, the silent pain he carried.
Her curiosity high, she abandoned the cereal and crossed the room, picking up her laptop from the coffee table. A quick search for “Maxwell Olson” produced images of Heath’s father and the obituary, three years old. She scanned the accolades, pausing on the names at the bottom.
“His sons, Heath and Kyle Olson …”
No mention was made of wives or grandchildren. But to the side of the article was a link labeled “related.” Clicking on it, a short press piece unfurled.
“Local general’s son drives into lake …” She remembered the story. Not many details were given, but from her recollection of what she’d seen on the television news back then, the man in involved had been going through a very public divorce.
“Kyle Olson,” she read.
Joy leaned back on the couch, propping her feet up in front of her. Had it been a mistake? Maybe he lost control of his car? Or was something else … something horrible … involved? Given Heath’s behavior, she suspected it was bad, nothing else made sense. Watching his brother fall apart would naturally make him slow to act where she was concerned. Not that she was in a rush or even certain the pair of them would become anything. But fate had thrown them together, and it seemed like something was supposed to come of it.
Thinking of him, she reached for her cell, brought up a text window, and typed in her address. “Forgot to send this …” she said as she typed. “Pick me up at eleven thirty.”
Joy hit send. Her answer was several minutes coming.
Ok.
One word with an unknown meaning. Was he really okay with it? Or did he already have regrets? She closed her computer and, after dumping out her mess in the kitchen, strolled down the hall to her bedroom. Standing just inside the door, her gaze landed on the closet and her need to know suddenly outweighed her common sense.
Extracting the little black dress, she hung it over the top of the door and snapped a photo. Attaching it to a text message, she sent it to Heath.
He replied instantly. Sweet dreams.
A smile crawled on her face, only to fade, seconds later. Whose sweet dreams? His about her? Or was that a quiet dismissal?
“I need a cold shower,” Joy said. Before her doubts and his reticence formed too big of a clog in her brain.
Heath stared at his darkened phone, the photo of Joy’s black dress vivid in his head. Slightly amused that she’d sent it, at the same time, his heart beat too fast and his palms dampened. Releasing the device to a place on his nightstand, he rose and made his way to the kitchen. A cup of strong coffee might settle him.
Turning on the brewing machine, he removed the premeasured coffee pod from the box on the counter and popped it into the receptacle. He stretched into the cabinet for a mug. Leaning back on the island, he listened to the machine warm up, his gaze drifting from the room back to the image in his head. Joy’s sparkling eyes gazing up at him, a thousand thoughts written in their depths.
She captivated him, living her life as far outside the box of normal behavior as anyone he’d ever met. She wrote beautiful poetic words for cards, yet even those seemed to come from some place other people didn’t have, something deep in her heart. She was the definition of a contradiction. Where an ordinary person would walk toward a doorway straight on, Joy, instead, climbed through a window. Both arrived at the same destination, but her way was more fun.
He blinked and refocused, pressing start on the machine. The cup in his hand, a minute later, he rounded the island and took a seat on the couch in the living room. Again, his mind drifted, but this time, he let it go where it wanted and recalled the events after his brother had been fished out of the lake. He hadn’t been present, but had seen pictures leaked onto the internet, horrible images of Kyle, his lips blue, his neck kinked funny.
He’d been notified an hour later and rushed to the hospital, only to be denied the right to see him until just before visiting hours ended. When he was finally allowed in, Kyle had been asleep, the most peaceful he’d seen him in weeks. Looking back, one of them … himself, their mom … should’ve seen the signs Kyle was struggling and added it together.
Making it worse, after his brother’s suicide attempt, his ex-wife had never come to check on him. She’d not called or emailed. Nothing.
That’d ruined his own perception of relationships and made him infinitely cautious. He’d stopped dating, broken off what relationships he had with the fairer sex, and taken two years to decide to even ask a woman out again. That woman had been Amanda, a girl he’d thought as un-like his brother’s ex-wife as possible, and he’d been right in many ways, but wrong in others. Enough evidence appeared in how things had ended.
Aware his coffee was growing cold, Heath shook himself and drank most of it, setting it down again to walk over to the entertainment center
and lift a photo of him and his brother posing together. Pre-marriage, somewhere in his college years, both of them carefree and happy. Would’ve been better if they could’ve stayed that way.
His brother had left the hospital a mental mess. He’d moved north to Atlanta with their mom, eventually selling his place here. But to date, he’d not gotten a job and now did nothing but watch TV day and night. Their mom tried to motivate him. She’d enrolled him in a support group and found him an excellent psychiatrist. But he’d talk to Kyle on the phone and wonder what good any of it did.
Heath left the remainder of his coffee where it sat and returned to the bedroom, once more lifting his phone. He brought up a text window and attached Joy’s name to it. After much debate, he typed one short message. Wear the lingerie.
A couple minutes later, he got a response, a photo of a single pair of black panties. “Wow …” He breathed the word and fell back on the bed.
CHAPTER 4
Joy texted him Friday evening, but only to confirm he was picking her up Saturday. No mention was made of their late night photo repartee, though it was strong in his thoughts at the time. Saturday morning, he rose early, showered and shaved, and took the time to sit and eat breakfast, though the thought of seeing her made him overeager and, as a result, jittery. That same energy continued to build right up until he knocked on her door.
One hand in the pocket of a pair of pressed black slacks, Heath glanced away briefly, and the door, at that moment, swung open. Looking back, his brows lifted and a laugh shoved upwards. “You weren’t kidding about the dress.”
Joy smiled, her head tilted. “We went and looked for the most ridiculous thing we could find.”
“You succeeded.”
Her laughter melded with his, and she motioned him inside. What sensuality the black dress had engendered, the pink frothy concoction she currently wore gave the opposite effect. A bustle hung center of her rump, wiggling back and forth like an ostrich’s wings. Above it, an enormous bow wrapped around her side, partially onto the front. The color was equally hideous, a cross between raw ground meat and pink lemonade.
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