A Captivating Conundrum

by Amy Lignor

  "Thanks. I jog back home, get out on the beach."

  She nodded. "Well, there is a beach. We're actually sitting just a few steps away from a huge lake—white sand and everything. So feel free to take a run. Just remember, there's far more wildlife here than in your hometown." She smiled. "I mean, you have carnivores lying in wait for you there, too, I'm sure, but ours aren't wearing bikinis and dreaming of becoming a Hollywood idol's wife. Our nature actually bites."

  I laughed. "The bikini-clad ones do, too."

  Walking into the room, I wanted to take her by the hand and ask Beth to come sit with me so we could continue this conversation far into the night. But she stayed at the door as I took in the fantastic room with the stunning view.

  "Bathroom's in there." She pointed at the door. "And there's a linen closet in there with everything you should need. My room is right across the hall if you find anything missing."

  I took a deep breath, standing in the glow of the soft light above me. "Thank you for this. I'm sure you weren't expecting to have to pay hostess to two guys off the street."

  She shrugged. "Bobby's right…the company should be fun."

  I grinned. "Chris is happy about the company, too."

  We shared a knowing smile, as if we were two single parents watching our kids fall in love. "Bobby's a great guy."

  "So's Chris."

  "Sounds like a perfect match."

  Unknowingly, Beth licked her lips and I felt as if I was going to walk to the threshold and... The gentleman inside me was dissolving quicker than a shot of whiskey in front of a thirsty drunk. "Goodnight." I forced the words from my throat.

  Beth smiled and pulled the door closed. Falling onto the bed, I realized for the first time that I was now only a few steps away from a woman I was falling desperately in love with.

  ~ Hers ~

  I closed my bedroom door behind me and wondered what the hell I'd gotten myself into. I swear, all of a sudden it felt like Nicole and Bobby had gotten together in order to embarrass me to death—as if this was payback for all the bets I'd won and the amount of cash they'd lost over the years. But…if I were dead I couldn't write any more books, so that let Nicole off the hook.

  I could hear the small murmurings coming from downstairs, knowing in my heart that Bobby and Chris were forming their own fast friendship in my kitchen. God, I was going to kill him for this.

  Sighing, I headed to the serenity of the bathtub. I still maintain there are times in life when only bubbles and hot water can make you feel human again. And I don't care how 'girlie' that sounds. That's also why places like Victoria's Secret were built, so you could wear that soft silk against your skin and feel like a real female—even if you were only playing hostess to your laptop before turning in for the evening.

  I had never felt like such a girl before. I was almost nervous, which was absolutely ridiculous. The guy had been polite, classy, asked about my family…which means he's not a total jerk. But there is no attraction on his part, I kept repeating in my mind. His eye contact was simply a courtesy that he'd learned from his acting training.

  I sank into the water and tried to force my mind back into Book Two of the famous series Nicole was waiting for me to finish. I knew these characters inside and out, and all I had to do was find the end—the perfect end that would lead to the final book of the trilogy being a heart-stopping, must-read experience! I knew I had this. Writing was the one thing I understood and had a passion for, but the thoughts just wouldn't come.

  In fact, all I could think about was how in the hell I'd ended up with a man right across the hall who made me feel like a teen in heat? Talk about not being prepared.

  …I hope Bobby enjoyed his evening, because in the morning he was a dead man!

  Eight

  ~ His ~

  Morning came to the Litchfield Hills and, boy, was Beth right. I had never woken up to such a sunrise before—and I lived in California, so that's saying something.

  From the beautiful bay window of the room, I stared out at the sun shining down on a calm, gentle lake surrounded by thick clusters of pine trees. Here and there everything from lovely mansions to small cabins dotted the landscape. I could hear everything from dogs barking to children playing as I looked out on a lone boat with an old fisherman inside, rod and reel in hand, waiting for a bite.

  I laughed a little, thinking to myself how Rockwell-'ian' it all was. Those old Saturday Evening Posts that showed small, happy communities…the whole scene was a magnificent picture. The gardens around the house were in full bloom, and I noticed that the yellow rose bushes that were scattered almost everywhere.

  I located the small white sand beach and suddenly wondered if Beth and I would ever be able to have a dinner down there…maybe stare up at the stars, which you could actually see here in the big, smog-free sky…and make love. I sighed heavily, still wrestling between the man I knew I was, and the hungry side that was screaming at me to remember him with kindness.

  Throwing on the shorts, throwing off the shirt, I stopped for just a minute outside my neighbor's door to see if I could hear her soft breaths of sleep. Man, I have got to stop acting like a guy stuck in a romance novel!

  I practically ran down the stairs and out into the sunshine, trying my best to sweat off everything that was pent up inside me. I turned my thoughts to the script; work—a much tamer subject than the one I couldn't seem to let go of.

  Beth's writing was outstanding, like a sonnet set to the perfect music. I thought about the man I had to be. I could relate to how the guy felt. He was over thirty-five with a failed relationship far in his background that he'd truly thought was the 'one.' The character remembered the whole thing, from being over the moon the day his love told him she was pregnant to coming to the conclusion that he just wasn't ready for the title of 'father' back then. The guy had been young, just out of high school, but had to forget about the dreams he desperately wanted for his future. Quitting the path to fame, he got a job to make sure he could provide for whatever little person they were bringing into the world.

  But his 'supposed' true love hadn't felt the same way. Choosing to give their child up for adoption, she completely helped him, yet annihilated him with the decision. I could feel the heartache the guy must've experienced, but at that young age he still had the chance to shine…and he'd taken it. He got out, hit the big time and was happy with his life, until one day—like all 'magic bubbles'—everything popped and he found himself all alone.

  Beth's words were a restoration of faith. They were the words that spoke to millions of souls who regretted a decision they made long ago, and were now at that point in their life where they craved the family—a child to call them Dad.

  And then…a little girl; a little girl who had no one and wanted the same exact things as the man. She was a child who needed hope, help and support, but without a Mom to tie up the package, the man knew it was wrong. After all, a little girl needs a Mom.

  It was a true look into everything from being a single parent to failing at love, and regaining spirit and faith through the eyes of a child who offers unconditional love.

  I had been floored the first time I'd read it, and had felt very close to Lily Stone. Even though I had hardly any interaction with children, being an only child myself, Beth's words spoke to me about the thrill and excitement of being a parent.

  I sighed, thinking back to the conversation I had with my best friend, Chance, before I'd gone to bed last night…

  ~***~

  I had dialed the phone as fast as possible after Beth had closed the door and disappeared, trying to find some normal, steady ground that I understood.

  "What's up, man?"

  I breathed a sigh of relief. "Dude, I'm stuck."

  "Huh? I thought you were Big Apple bound?"

  "I was. I mean, I got here…there. Look, I got a role I wasn't expecting for this charity thing and it comes with a…woman."

  "You mean a hot leading lady, dog?" Chance laughed like t
he eighteen-year-old semi-slut that was still living inside his thirty-three-year-old body.

  I could hear the game running in the background, and I almost felt like getting on a plane back to California…to what I knew. My small circle of friends were the ones I could count on; my crew made me feel…insulated from the world.

  "No, not a leading lady. She's the writer."

  "Oh, sorry. Aren't writer's like chicks with specs, big butts and gray hair?"

  I smiled, envisioning the stunner that was sitting just two closed doors away. I could only imagine how Chance would trip over himself to get to Beth. In fact, I could see him bustin' every move possible to try to impress her. "Not nearly."

  He quieted for a moment, probably hearing the odd tone in my voice. "She in the city with ya?"

  "No, I'm actually in Connecticut…at her house."

  He laughed. "You're a fast mover."

  I sighed. "It's not like that."

  "Yeah, right," he chuckled. "You wonder why we rag on you about stuff. Awesome career, chicks screaming, hot girls onstage and off…seriously, you really blow."

  I curled my hand into a fist. "Stop talking, this is serious. I think I really like this lady. I mean…really like."

  The voice quieted at the other end of the phone. "You've only been gone two days, and you're not exactly the overnight romance guy, you know?"

  I nodded. He was right; the whole lothario thing was not my deal.

  "Well, what's she like?"

  The mocking 'homeboy' tone disappeared from Chance's voice.

  I paced the room. "Her name's Beth. She is so smart, guy, I can't even tell you. It's like she knows everything…even sports, if you can believe it. She's funny—sarcastic, but not mean, you know? And everyone around her seems to either love her, wants to protect her, or both. She comes from this super cool family, she loves kids…"

  "Can she cook?"

  I laughed, knowing that trait would most likely make her absolutely perfect, seeing as that I loved to cook. "I don't know about that yet. The only thing I've ever seen her put in her mouth is coffee."

  "Well, she's a writer, after all. Don't those guys sit up in front of computers all night long? I would think she lives on coffee."

  I breathed out. "Probably."

  "And she's not boring? You get bored fast, man."

  "Not even close. Every time she opens her mouth it's like a brand new person comes out."

  Chance cleared his throat, trying to bring me back to reality. "You haven't been there long, dude. Once you get to know her she may be…flawed."

  "That's true. But she's interesting, you know? I feel like I could keep talking to her for the next fifty years and still not even scratch the surface of what she's all about."

  I heard the intake of breath. "Uh, oh."

  "What?"

  "You got it." Chance began to laugh. "You got it bad. You aren't concentrating on her looks at all. I gotta' get Darren in on this call, man."

  And people say female's gossip? "Don't call him! At least not until I'm off the line."

  "Alright, alright," he sighed. "Can I ask just one question?"

  I rolled my eyes. "Go ahead, like I don't know what this is gonna' be."

  He chuckled. "She hot?"

  I took a deep breath and looked at my closed door, imagining what lay… "Beyond," I whispered.

  "Guy, we've got the hottest women in the world here, and on the beach they're practically naked. You know that."

  "Yeah, I know that. But this is one of those gifts that you really want to unwrap, you know?" I was completely serious.

  "Sounds bitchin.'"

  "…she is." I wondered if Beth was even going to allow me to stay in the morning. If it were me, I probably would've thrown our asses to the curb last night and told us to enjoy our drive back to the city.

  "You'll be cool, you always are," Chance said, obviously feeling my fear through the phone line.

  "But I'm focusing on the career. You know I can't get entangled with this stuff right now."

  He sighed. "Then walk away. Go back to New York, do the charity thing, then get your ass back home. No worries, right?"

  I sighed deeply; I already knew the answer to that. "I don't think I can."

  "Huh," Chance replied. "Well, good luck then. Oh, by the way?"

  "Yeah?"

  "I think you're screwed."

  "Thanks a lot."

  "Keep us informed!" Chance hung up, most likely on his way to call Darren and give him the news that I was completely and utterly in trouble.

  ~***~

  As I ran by the old man in the boat he lifted up his hand and waved. Waving back, I offered a smile and wondered if I had, in fact, found Paradise.

  Screwed in Paradise. Great title for a song. I started humming a few bars to see if it could be a solid gold hit, and kept on running.

  Nine

  ~ Hers ~

  I slammed the door so hard against his wall that the pictures practically jumped off their hooks.

  Bobby snapped up in bed like he was looking for an angry gunman. When he saw me, he just groaned and fell back on the pillow. "Jesus, Beth! Will you keep it down? You have guests, you know."

  "Yes," I marched in, kicking the door closed behind me. "That's right. And why do I have guests?"

  He squealed like a sick baby who wanted nothing more than to be left alone. "Okay, get it over with."

  "You suck."

  He opened one eye and stared up at me. "That's it?" His gaze focused on the coffee cups in my hand. "Are you going to burn me now?"

  I offered an evil grin as I lifted one cup to my lips. "And waste good coffee? Are you high?"

  Placing the other mug on the bedside table, I walked to the corner and threw myself down on the window seat. "Why did you invite them to stay here?"

  Bobby mumbled into his pillow, "For god's sake, they were standing there, it was dark and there's no place to stay here in 'Nowhereville. I certainly didn't want them to have to drive all the way back to the city, did you?"

  Propping up the pillows behind him, Bobby took the extra mug. "Thank you."

  "You're welcome. I tried to find some rat poison to flavor it with but we're all out."

  Rolling his eyes, swallowing way too soon and burning his throat, Bobby's eyes grew wide.

  "See? Fate has punished you," I said, with a smile.

  "Look. I already told Chris that if you woke up pissed off I would drive them back myself. Alright? They'll be out of your glorious hair very soon."

  I looked out the window as I heard footsteps crunching on the gravel below. As Matthew McKenna appeared over the rise, sweat pouring off his brow, I gasped. Apparently a wild animal had met him in the forest and torn his shirt off exposing my eyes to one of the most ripped bodies I'd ever seen. Running up the driveway, he headed into the house. I could hear him grow quiet as he came up the stairs.

  I stared at Bobby. "No. They can stay. But just remember you totally SUCK and you totally owe me BIG!" I shook my finger at him. "The stuff I do for you!"

  Bobby produced a sheepish grin. "Thank you, Mom."

  "This better be love, or I'm cutting something off that you may need one of these days."

  Taking one last look at the scenery, which now seemed completely barren even though the rose bushes were stunning, I sighed. "I used to think those erotic romance writers were seriously moronic. I mean, who even wants a heaving sheath? Sounds way too painful. But now…I guess I can see their point."

  "Huh?"

  I shook my head. "Nothing. Go back to bed, you little shit."

  Bobby smiled and began to rearrange his pillows. "What time is it, anyway?"

  "Seven."

  "Seven in the morning? Are you nuts? I don't get up until noon when we're not working." His eyes were wide and angry.

  "Just think of this as a valuable life lesson learned." I threw my most evil smile over my shoulder and slammed the door behind me.

  ~***~

  As I ventu
red down the stairs, I tried to ignore the sound of running water coming from one of the showers. Shaking the image from my mind, I tried to forget that right now the stunning man was cleaning off the sweat of his hard workout. His hands were running over that chest, soaping everything…the cool water was caressing…

  "Knock it off!" I yelled at myself.

  Walking into the kitchen was always a fun moment for me. It had that appeal the other half of me liked. What other half? Well, I see myself as two halves: One was created by the real world. That's the complete and utter geek. Oh, yes, I am one. It is the part that loves 80s Heavy Metal, leather jackets, heeled boots and owns a kickass bitchy temper that I like to use every once in a while just to keep it fresh. Then, there was this 'homey' side. This was the room we'd all congregated in once upon a time, for all Thanksgivings, family events and Sunday afternoons. This was where Grandma would set a table filled with the most scrumptious meals I'd ever witnessed in my life.

  The woman had been so cute. On the outside you would peg her as the sweet grandma figure—gray hair, kind smile, and loving attitude. But this woman had spirit to spare. I remember how when dessert would appear she'd hold up a knife that put even serial killers to shame, and waved in the air screaming out, "Who wants pie!" in a voice that sounded a great deal like an ice road trucker on speed.

  I always felt her around me when I was in this room; I think she has the ability to hug from a million miles away.

  Taking out the frying pans and everything I would need to feed an unexpected houseful of four, I began to sing her favorite song as I went about putting together the most amazing pancakes on the face of the earth because they were her recipe.

  When the batter was ready and the song came to an end, I whispered the last line through the open window, out to the garden where Grandma's ashes lay, making sure to remind her that I hadn't forgotten the beauty of our song, or the pride she took in her kitchen. She always wanted it kept neat and tidy—cleaning as you go—which is exactly what I did.