As he signed the papers, his attention kept flicking to the woman outside, her identity tantalizing the edges of his recall like an itch moving craftily over his skin, always seeking the next place he couldn’t reach. His normal protections, the shell of distance he maintained in the face of the precarious balance of his sanity on just this side of crazy, thinned in the face of the itch to discover, to know.
He signed the last paper, initialed the last page, while the lawyer murmured something about payout schedules and taxes, words firmly anchored in sanity and reality. But then she moved again. The glitter in her dress caught the light from the windows. He dropped the pen, and did the only sane thing a crazy man could do. He chased the itch.
~*~
“Lin Sanada.”
The male voice came from behind her. Her name rolled off his tongue like chilled vodka splashing into cut crystal. She turned.
Next to her, Shane’s comment trailed off into an exaggerated gasp that nonetheless faded into background noise. Five, eight, fifteen years fell away, a receding glacier in time-lapse, leaving behind a flat landscape of countless conversations about nothing and everything, dotted with out of place boulders made of heavyweight moments when something palpable and sizzling leapt between herself and the man forever out of her reach.
He stood well within reach now. Soft, dove-gray corduroys hugged his lean hips under a dusky charcoal corduroy blazer, and a neck scarf the color of faded sky danced with the collar of his shirt. The shock of snowy hair took the breath from her. Anyone else would have looked like somebody’s grandpa rolled up in an Andy Warhol suit. But Jack Winters wore it like a rock star, the way he wore everything. He made going gray look like a fashion choice. Even the blue-tinted half-moon wireframes perched on the bridge of his nose lent him an air of mystery, rather than age.
“You look—” Behind the blue half-moons, his ice-blue gaze traveled up and down her body with such naked appreciation she couldn’t be sure he was the same man she’d known—and carefully held at a respectful distance—for almost two decades.
And God help her, nearly two decades of that fiercely-enforced distance didn’t stand a chance against that glance. Shane was going to have a field day over this. She could already sense the mockery gathering like charged ions before a lightning strike. Only one way to head that off. “Fantastic? Divine? Magnificent?” Beat Shane at his own game.
“All those things and more.” He grinned. “Also not terrifying.”
She’d been taking a sip from her drink when he added that last thought. “What do you mean, ‘not terrifying’?” Throat full of chocolate and Kahlua, her voice sounded huskier than usual. She motioned to her ballet-style dress. “I worked hard on this, and Kate Benazzaro’s already crowned me the Whore of Babylon. Did the snakes come out of my hair or something?”
Jack laughed. “Kate Benazzaro’s eating her heart out because you look ten years younger and she looks ten years older. How have you been?”
Years of covering her own fascination with Jack had taught her to play it as cool as she could, but with a brazen compliment like that, even years of practice couldn’t keep the heat from rushing through her body. Beside her, Shane was not so inclined to play it cool. “As I live and breathe, it’s Jack Winters, come to haunt us like the ghost of Jacob Marley.” Or unsnarky.
Jack’s mouth quirked up. At the same time he ducked his head and Lin thought the effect might kill her. And the hot drink wasn’t helping, either. What I wouldn’t give for a good blizzard right about now.
Shane set his mug down on the railing and shifted his cigarette to his other hand. “Am I dreaming? Am I dead?” He patted Jack’s arm, hamming it up. “Touch him, quick, before he vanishes back into the Afterlife.”
Lin was about to reach her hand out when Jack stiffened at Shane’s touch. It was hardly a motion at all, just a twitch, really, but she picked up on it.
So did Shane. He took a drag off his cigarette and raised his eyebrows. “Slumming it, Winters?”
Jack’s expression cooled. He shoved a hand in his pocket and stepped back. “What’s feeding you these days if this place is a slum?”
The urge to soothe ruffled feathers could not be denied. “Shane’s raking it in coding first-person shooters for the Big Boys these days.” She shot Shane a severe look. “And he still lives in a cruddy man-pad near the university.”
Shane sniffed. “No, I live in a slightly nicer man-pad near the university.”
Jack’s eyebrows went up. “I heard you left us for the big time.”
Shane tapped ash over the railing and took another drink. “‘Us?’ As I recall, you were no longer a part of ‘us’ by then.”
Lin’s own mouth tightened. “Shane—”
“What?” Shane finished off his drink and flicked the cigarette butt into the darkness of the yard.
“It’s okay.” Jack’s voice came out in a soothing chill. “He’s right. I gave up the right to be part of things before he did.” He faced Shane directly. “Doesn’t mean I stopped caring. About the fate of the company, or the people in it.”
Shane’s features darkened. “Bullshit. You walked away and never looked back.”
Lin stepped between the two men. “Knock it off, Shane. We all know why Jack left EvoWorld.”
Shane slammed the empty mug down on the deck railing. “Yeah, we know why he left the company. He still owes us an explanation for why he left us.” He stalked towards the French doors.
Jack started after him. “Shane—” The door slammed and Jack threw his hands up. “Goddammit.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess the night was going too well.”
She turned away, looking out over the moonlit yard. “Shane can still stick his foot in it like a ten year old with a temper tantrum.”
“No reason for everyone to tiptoe around me.” She felt, rather than saw him shrug. “Starla welcomed me back with open arms, I signed a paper that gets me out of hock for another few months, I spied a beautiful mystery woman outside who turned out to be you—something had to go wrong.”
Her mouth went dry. The chocolate lay thick in her throat.
His hand dropped to his side and he glanced at her. “Sorry if that was inappropriate. I didn’t even get a chance to hear how your life is going. If you’re still with—”
She found her voice at the bottom of what felt like a helium tank. She half-expected to sound like a chipmunk when she spoke. “Roger? Not for almost a year.”
“Oh. I’m—”
“Don’t say sorry.” She cut him off. “It’s a long and boring story that ends with ‘and Lin lived happily, and singly, ever after. The end.’” Her feet steadied a little under her. The past ten years of experience returned to her, reminding her that she had figured out a way to behave like the competent professional she’d become, and not the bookish co-ed she always felt like around him.
He coughed, perhaps hiding a laugh. “Can’t say I’m sorry, then. I don’t think he was good for you, anyway.”
She faced the dark woods, and the moonlight that lightened the yard in long fingers. He stepped up behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, too aware of the scent of cedarwood that made her wish for fresh-fallen snow. What happened to me? I was over you. Her tongue rattled loose before good sense could take over. “Inappropriate or not, it wasn’t unwelcome.”
~*~
If a pretty woman wearing snowflakes and ice drops tells you you’re not unwelcome, you come inside.
The squeal of the doors leading inside took his attention. The group at the fire bowl had abandoned it in favor of more drinks, leaving them the last two out on the deck. “Looks like the party’s moving inside.”
“I’m okay out here.” She turned away from the house. “You know, I should have listened to you.” She jerked her head towards the window. “I was the last one out. Hung on ‘til the bitter end.” She met his eyes and he thought he saw a flash of defiance there. “And not for the reasons you think, either.”
Before he left EvoW
orld, they’d been on opposite sides of some pretty big executive decisions. “Lin, I’ve never known you to be anything but thoughtful, even when you were tearing apart project teams.” He shifted his body so he was facing her instead of the window that held him apart and the woods that pulled him in. “Your mind always held more than you let any of us see.”
A warm flash of awareness sparked in her eyes. She licked her lips again. “I—didn’t know you noticed.”
Oh, he’d noticed from the start. But when he started dating Nan, he made sure he didn’t notice anymore. “I knew Shane wouldn’t have filled my bathtub with blueberry jello the night of my bachelor party on his own. It took me years to squeeze the name of his accomplice out of him.” The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile. “Confirmed my suspicion that it’s always the quiet ones.”
Her face lit up with a laugh that was all too brief. “I’ve worked very hard to avoid the nerdy Asian stereotype.”
He was genuinely startled to hear that. Stereotypical was the last adjective he’d use to describe her. “You were never nerdy. You were so together, compared to the rest of us.”
Her jaw fell open. “Together?” She laughed. “Have you been living on the same planet?” The silky fabric of her wrap fell a little further down her arms.
He couldn’t be that out of touch with them. Could he? “I’m serious.” His fingers were on her arm before he realized what he was doing, slipping the wrap back up on her shoulder, lingering when his fingertips brushed her skin, warm even through the gloves. “The rest of us were skipping daisies and you—” He shook his head. “You kept the lights on.” Starla took care of everybody with food and warm hugs, but Lin took care of business. When Jack was in grad school, working on his thesis, Starla brought him coffee and home cooking, but it was Lin who delivered it to him, and Lin who chased everybody away at a reasonable hour and proofed his final draft.
She hiked up the wrap. “That’s a very polite way of saying I’m the party pooper.” Her eyes fluttered shut and she shook her head. “I was the one who kept pushing us to go public. You knew early on what that would do to EvoWorld. To us.” Her eyes opened again. “I should have listened to you.”
Those arguments served as the only safe way she could fire his blood. His lips twisted. “Look where my idealism got me. You did the sensible thing, and it made EvoWorld a success. Just because the rest of us were too stubborn to let go of a dream when it was long past time doesn’t mean you should beat yourself up over it.”
She huffed. “Look where my pragmatism got me. I’m just as unemployed.” She tilted her face up to the moonlight as a breeze cut through the night air. “I played the responsibility card to the bitter end. I’m under no obligation to continue flogging the dead horse.” The tail of her wrap worked free, fluttering in the wind.
He reached for it, the silken fabric tangling in his fingers just as she lifted her own hand and held it against his. “I know a bit about that. It’s easy to keep flogging the dead horse because the alternative is not knowing what to do next.”
She turned back to the railing, leaning her elbows on the top and staring out into the darkened wood. “The alternative is taking a risk.” She glanced over her shoulder, a slight smile curving her lips upward. “On a new ride.”
Jack’s stomach jumped. He narrowed his eyes, squinting through the half-moons. “That was a come-hither look.” When she didn’t say anything, he mentally slapped himself. “Nevermind. I’m reading you wrong.” He licked dry lips and wished he had a drink, some snow, an opportune icicle. For down his pants. “Umm…I’m kinda remedial at this.”
“That’s not the Jack Winters I remember.” She turned back to him, still leaning her elbows on the railing. Her pose made the snowflake sparkles of her dress do…interesting things around her cleavage. “You couldn’t be remedial at anything.”
He snorted. “Wanna bet?” He leaned against the railing next to her, just close enough to see if she shifted away. “I missed that look.”
“You just need a little practice. Here, let me help.” She sent him the Look again and his mouth passed dry and went to watering.
Come-hither looks or not, it’ll never work. His…condition couldn’t ever let him—Don’t think about that. If he thought more than a minute about his inability to touch another person, lethal doses of cyanide would take too long. “Lin I—”
He put his other hand on the deck railing, close enough to not quite touch her. Just to torment his own off-kilter senses as he inhaled the mint and woodsmoke coming from her body. “I—” She tilted her face up, an invitation to a kiss he shouldn’t accept and couldn’t refuse.
“There he is!” The shout came from the upper deck and he tensed.
If Lin hadn’t been in front of him, he would have already vaulted over the deck railing and made for the woods in panic. Or fallen flat on his face if he didn’t clear the railing. How old are you?
“Hah! You thought you could escape us, didn’t you?” Bailey’s voice echoed across the deck. Jack whirled to see his friend, flanked by Starla and Shane, stalking towards him.
“Did you think we’d forget about you?” Starla’s merry, evil-Tinkerbell laugh sent a curl of foreboding through him.
Lin’s gaze reflected the same confusion. Starla, Bailey, and the less-disgruntled-looking Shane stomped down the steps towards them. “You thought you could hide it.”
He dropped his arm from the railing and put it behind his back. Fuck, what did I do now?
“Busted,” Lin murmured beside him.
“You thought you could pretend it wasn’t going to happen.” Starla finished her husband’s sentence. “We know, Jack. We know.”
Cold water washed through him. No. Oh, hell no. His eyes darted around the area in sudden panic. Had he missed a telltale flicker? A stray sparkle? They couldn’t— No one could— There are no Oddlings here! Except me. First rule of Oddlings is you don’t talk about Oddlings. Second rule of Oddlings is you run like hell if they’re around. Third rule—only slightly less well-known than the first two—is you never reveal to your friends that you’re—
“Turning forty,” Shane declared, “without celebrating it is a capital crime.”
“Punishable by getting shit-faced drunk.” Bailey held up a bottle and shook it. “Grey Goose, my friend. For the discerning.”
Jack would have melted into a puddle if he didn’t wonder if it was in the realm of actual, literal possibility for him. “Jesus. Scare the shit out of me.” He put a hand over his heart.
“It’s your birthday.” Lin shook her head as Bailey advanced, bottle in hand. “I can’t.” She started to edge away.
“Nobody escapes the first round.” Starla blocked her exit and Jack thanked his old friend. She passed shot glasses around from her little basket.
He grimaced as Bailey filled it up to the brim. “Jeez, Bailey.”
“You turn forty once. Good alcohol goes great with celebrations and funerals. Which one is this?”
Well, my sex life died five years ago, and normal life is on life support. What have I got left? He peered down into the shot glass, where the clear liquid wavered his vision. The high proof of the alcohol kept it from freezing at his touch, but for how long? “Fuckit.” He lifted the shot glass. What have I got? Not enough time. “Here’s to not getting any younger.”
He knocked the icy cold liquid back. It seared a path down his throat and into the pit of his stomach as his friends laughed. “Happy birthday, man.”
The alcohol burned cold fire through him as he held the shot glass out for Starla to take.
Instead, Bailey filled it again. “You should do one for each decade.”
He laughed, cold frost crystallizing on his tongue. “And maybe one for the EMTs who’ll have to pump my stomach.” But he knocked back the second shot to a round of applause.
~*~
Lin bolted the vodka harder than she should. Between stressing about losing her job and Jack Winters right in front of her,
she was having a hard time holding a thought in her head.
No, scratch that. She had a thought in her head, all right, but it had nothing to do with losing her job and everything to do with Jack Winters being single again. That little back-and-forth was the boldest she’d ever been with Jack, and the quivering elation that went with it told her she was operating on a new level in uncharted territory. Vodka sloshed down into her stomach, chilling her with liquid fortitude.
Bailey tipped the vodka bottle over Jack’s glass and Lin watched, captivated, as Jack protested—feebly—then put the shot glass to his lips again. He drained it and slammed the glass onto the deck railing, shaking his head with a gaspy laugh that sent melted-snow shivers down her back. “Whew!”
Starla scooted between Bailey and the refilling of Jack’s shot glass. “Did you make your birthday wish?”
“Can I wish for not having any more birthdays?”
Shane snorted. “What’s it feel like being forty?” He sidled up to Lin’s other side and leaned against the railing. His earlier snit seemed to have evaporated, but she knew her friend wouldn’t let it go that easily.
Behind the blue-tinted half-moons, Jack’s eyes flicked towards her and Lin felt a blush creep up her cheeks at being caught staring. “It feels like I want my old crowd back.” The words were naked and honest and not at all lighthearted to Lin’s ears.
Bailey maneuvered around his wife with the bottle. “You never lost us, man. Number three.”
“Bailey, give him a minute.” Starla rested her hand on her husband’s arm.
“Wow.” Shane smirked. “Grandpa can’t hold his liquor.”
“When you’re a grown-up, you’ll understand, little boy.” Lin patted Shane’s head.
“I might be the little boy, but you’ve got the chest of one.” Shane was not pulling his punches tonight, and Lin suspected it had less to do with her than with Jack’s presence. Shane was nothing if not good at holding grudges.
Any other day, Lin would have rolled her eyes. Now, she twitched her wrap up over her cleavage. “And you’ve got the brain of one.”
WinterJacked: Book One: Rude Awakening Page 3