by Mara Jacobs
He ignored the lascivious wink and led her from the Club. This was Tess, he reminded himself. His buddy. His dating consultant. Who had no interest in him other than a kiss to win a bet because she was dating handsome, rich, twenty-something college guys like Aaron. He remembered the suit coat Tess had been wearing as they walked out to the car. Aaron didn’t need his coat. So he didn’t mention it.
“Want me to drive?” he asked as they approached her little Volvo wagon. “You look tired. I can drop you off then bring your car back tomorrow.”
“That’d be great,” she said, swaying a little. “All of a sudden, I’m whipped. And man, am I going to have blisters…and be sore…tomorrow.” She sighed and settled into the passenger seat.
Even though she was exhausted, as she claimed, she still told him how to drive. When to shift. How to get to her house. To watch for deer.
“Thanks, Wilder,” she said when he pulled up to her parents’ house. It was dark except for an exterior light and one glowing through the front door. A motion detector light came on as he stopped in the circular drive.
He turned to say goodnight, and there she was. Right there, close as hell in the front seat. Looking all mussed and glowy and sexy as hell. Her strapless dress showed off her shoulders and the curve of her neck, and even though the light was dim, he knew there was an interesting little freckle right next to that little hollow of her throat. His mouth watered. He really wanted to kiss that mark. To lick it, suck gently on it…then move to the side of her long, elegant neck.
Their eyes met and he felt his world swim…his knees weaken…and something inside him go ka-blam. Like his gut just dropped. His lungs felt tight.
“You didn’t have to stay, and I really appreciate it. We couldn’t have done it without you,” she was saying. “Thank you so much, Johnny.”
“Yeah,” was all he could say. Kiss her. Kiss her!
She’s got a boyfriend.
Who gives a shit? He left early. He missed out.
She’s not interested in you, Wilder.
She kissed you back two years ago.
Yeah. She sure did—
Then all at once she was climbing out of the car. “Good night, Johnny. Don’t forget to wear a rain coat.”
Her giddy, giggly laugh was the last thing he heard as she slammed the door and tottered inside.
Chapter Seven
Present Day
Tess couldn’t find Lewis. He wasn’t answering her texts either. Typical man. Typical Lewis. He was probably sitting in a corner somewhere, inventing a new smartphone app. That was how he’d made his millions, which, if Gracie played it right, could also be her millions.
Although, as she’d come to learn, money did not a happy marriage make.
But Tess needed to talk to Lewis. Not because she needed a date (at this point, she realized she didn’t flipping care—she’d be just as happy popping a bottle of champagne on her own), but because Grace had actually had not one but two guys show up to be her date (nothing like overcompensating!). And neither of them looked like they were going to be easily bought off like all the other flunkies over the years had been.
Had Tess ever felt guilty about being part of the game, working with Lewis to make sure Grace was the one he got to kiss at midnight every single year? Not really. She figured if the guys Gracie brought were as easily bought off as they had been, they didn’t deserve her smart, funny, kickass sister—and it was a good way for her to find out.
As for Lewis…since he’d been in love with Grace forever, Tess thought the poor guy deserved a shot. A real shot. But for God’s sake, he’d better make it happen this year, because she was done with the whole game.
“So where’s your husband, Tess?” asked Laney Boudreau. They’d been chatting for a few minutes while Laney’s date went to get her a drink. “Isn’t he a director? I heard he was here last year.”
“He didn’t come—” she started, but Laney leapt on her words before she could explain.
“Did you bring someone else then—someone famous?” Her voice dropped to a whisper and she looked around as if expecting to see George Clooney step out of the shadows.
I wish.
Tess could have been irritated by the celebrity stalking, but she wasn’t. After all, one year she’d brought the lead singer of Grammy winner Ferrie’s Wake, and another time she’d brought Senator Goldstein’s son.
She’d gotten used to this sort of reaction from the members of her hometown, and realized they were simply curious. And a little intimidated. They read gossip magazines and Page Six and entertainment blogs and just wanted to know what it was really like to have Matthew Broderick and Sarah Jessica Parker know you by name, and run into Jon Stewart at the Rockefeller Center and actually have a conversation, and know where Beyonce and Jay-Z’s apartment was because you’d been there.
So she replied with the patience and grace she’d cultivated when dealing with these situations. “I’m actually here without a date tonight. It’s a little strange, but I’m getting divorced, and, well, I just wanted to have a relaxed time tonight. Especially since it’s technically my second anniversary. But,” she added with a purposeful twinkle in her eye (she wasn’t an actress for nothing), “if you see any hot, single guys, send’em my way.”
“Oh, I’m really sorry you’re getting divorced,” Laney replied. She seemed sincere. “I hadn’t heard anything—I mean, in the gossip columns. Well,” she looked a little mortified at having to admit it, “I do read Page Six. It’s kind of neat when someone you sort of know shows up in it.”
“I read Page Six too,” Tess confessed with a smile, casting a subtle glance around for Lewis. Where was he? It was after ten. “And the divorce hasn’t really made the news—we’re definitely not a big celeb couple like Brangelina or whatever they’re calling Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively. Which is fine with me.”
“So does that mean you’ll have to kiss Lewis Kampmueller tonight instead of Grace?” Laney said with a broad smile.
Tess chuckled. Pretty much everyone knew about the arrangement (after all, it had been going on for a decade), and most people knew about the behind-the-scenes manipulation Lewis always did to make sure he kissed the right Devine girl. Except for Grace. “Well, it’s definitely looking that way. I hope Gracie doesn’t get jealous.”
They were laughing together when Tess noticed her mother gesturing to her from across the room. “Excuse me, Laney,” she said, turning back to her companion. “Looks like my mother needs to talk to me—probably about whether the band’s been paid yet. You have a great time the rest of the night!”
It took her longer than it should have to make her way across the room—but it was to be expected. Everyone wanted to know how she was doing, where her date was (apparently news of her divorce was just beginning to filter around), when her next Broadway appearance was going to be (she didn’t say), and whether she was actually going to have to kiss Lewis this year.
She finally extricated herself from Mr. and Mrs. Turniter and, ready to make a beeline toward Belly, turned abruptly. And came face to face with Johnny Wilder.
“Oh,” she said in an embarrassingly gaspy sort of way. “Wilder.” Crap. That still came out sounding like Marilyn Monroe. “Hi. I didn’t know you were in town.” Oh my God, could you sound more idiotic?
“Same here,” he drawled. He had that way of speaking so low and carelessly…it felt like a little caress down her spine. “Didn’t expect to see you.”
Well, that’s about as blunt as you can get, isn’t it? “Last minute change of plans,” she said, trying to smile casually.
Tess could not figure out why her heart was literally slamming in her chest. Johnny Wilder was just an old friend…well, yeah, who’d said some things during an opportunistic moment—but, Lord, one look at him and he was pushing all her buttons tonight. He was like a tall, cool drink on a summer day: mouthwatering.
His hair needed a cut, but it looked good—a rich bronzy brown brushing the collar of
his tux and in thick waves curling back from his temples. The last time she’d seen him, it was cut military short for the Air Force. His mouth was fixed in a familiar half-smirk but his eyes wouldn’t quite meet hers. Tess had seen hundreds of sexy men in tuxes, but there was something about the way he wore his—with careless attitude—that really made her hormones buzz. He looked so cool and sharp: the crisp white shirt under the sleek black coat encasing broad shoulders, military straight and a stance filled with confidence. He wore a neat, understated black bow tie and sharp onyx cufflinks. It was a delicious package and her insides were all a-flutter.
“So…it’s been a while,” she said after an awkward moment. “A few years. I heard you were in Iraq. I’m glad you made it back safely….” Her voice trailed off. Surely war had changed him. Maybe that was why he carried himself so differently…with an attitude, and strength, and something else. A subtle show of…not bravado but…wisdom? Experience. And not the kind with women, though he had that in spades too. “I’m sure you look at things differently now.”
His eyes widened a little as if he wasn’t expecting such a personal and intuitive comment and he seemed to relax slightly. “I do. It was…dark. And difficult. But there were moments of satisfaction and victory. I was proud to be there. Glad I went.”
“Thank you,” she replied. Meaning it.
Then, “Hey,” she said, trying to jolt herself out of this very strange discomfort. She tested a little flirtatious smile. “I don’t have a date tonight, and since I’m really not interested in kissing Lewis Kampmueller, maybe you could help me out again? You know, for old times’ sake?” She forced herself to sound light and funny and teasing, just the way she’d always been with Wilder. Pretending she didn’t remember anything that had happened four years ago.
His gray eyes swept over her, suddenly turning Arctic cold. “I don’t think your asshat of a husband would appreciate that. Nor would my very sexy date. Good to see you again, Tess.” And he walked away.
Her cheeks flared hot and her whole body quivered with anger even as it flushed with shame.
Four years ago, he’d been playing the “I’m off to war, honey, send me off with a bang,” card….
Damn good thing she hadn’t believed him.
Chapter Eight
New Year’s Eve
Four years ago
“This was a great idea, Tess,” said Grat. “I’ve been wanting to see Iron Man, but with two kids it’s a little hard to get out of the house.”
“My pleasure,” she replied, gesturing them into the home theater in her parents’ basement. “Get comfortable. We’ve got all the leftover beer and wine—no champagne though—and some food. Wilder, you open a few bottles. Cara, can you get the plates? They’re in the cupboard over there. And napkins too. Grat, some of us—like me—will want blankets. They’re in the trunk by the wall. Gracie, here’s the DVD. Brooks, can you light the fire? It’s real wood, so you might have to use your Boy Scout skills instead of flipping a switch.”
The annual Devine-Kampmueller bash had ended unusually early due to a widespread case of the flu throughout Henderson. The few people who’d actually made it to the party had cleared out shortly after midnight, either because their children were home sick, they were getting sick or had just gotten over being sick, or because it simply wound down early. Even Belly wasn’t feeling well and had slipped off to bed right away.
So Tess had invited a group of friends over to watch Iron Man and whatever other movies they could get to.
“Too bad Barry had to miss the party,” Grace said when she handed her the DVD. “But at least you got to show off your new rock tonight.”
Tess lifted her hand, loving the way the low lights in the room caught at the sparkles of the three-carat diamond. “Poor guy. He was so sick he couldn’t even make his flight. If I’d known, I would have just stayed instead of flying down here so early. Go put that disk in, and let’s get started. You know how much I love Robert Downey, Jr.”
They drank beer and wine and watched Iron Man, then someone put in Love, Actually (over which the guys groaned and the gals sighed) and by then, it was past four. And everyone had had more than enough to drink.
“We’d better hit the road,” Grat said, helping Cara to her feet. “Even though our babysitter is staying the night, I’m done. I haven’t been up this late since college. You okay to drive, honey, because I’m sure not.”
Grace yawned. “I’m off to bed too. I’ll help clean up in the morning, Tess.”
“See you all tomorrow. You’ll be over to watch the game, right?” said Brooks.
“You mean later today,” Tess replied, realizing the room was wavering a little. “Yes, we wouldn’t miss game day at the Bennetts’!” Whew. That last glass of wine really did me in. But the warmth of a perfect buzz filtered through her and she was still wide awake—thanks to her nocturnal schedule back home.
Grace tromped up the stairs to say goodbye to Brooks and the Grathwolds, and Tess turned to put a few things away.
“Hey Wilder. Don’t tell me you want me to put in another chick flick. I’ve got a bunch of them,” she teased. “We could do The Sound of Music or Pride & Prejudice. Or how about The Ugly Truth. That’d be perfect for you.”
“No thanks.” He was gathering up plates and cups and setting them on the counter. “But I don’t think I’d better drive tonight. Can I crash here?”
“Definitely.” Tess wandered over and poured herself another glass of wine. “I’m not ready to go to bed yet myself, but I’m not interested in another movie. Want something?”
There was a pregnant pause that had her glancing up at him when he didn’t immediately reply, then he said, “A beer. Thanks.”
By the time she got the beer opened, he’d settled on the floor in front of the fire, leaning back against a heavy coffee table, his feet flat on the ground. The plush cream-colored rug was inviting, and Tess sank down next to him as she handed over the beer.
“I miss having a real fire,” he commented. “Mom’s got a gas fireplace, but there’s nothing like the smell of real wood burning.”
“Feels a little weird to have one when it’s so warm out, but a fire says the holidays to me,” Tess replied. “And it’s a little chilly down here.”
She stretched out her legs with a soft groan, pointing her bare feet toward the fire. Because it was her house, she’d had the luxury of changing into yoga pants and a t-shirt, but Wilder was still in his tux. He’d taken off his coat and tie and rolled up his sleeves. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone too, showing a hint of the silver chain from his dog tags in a teasing vee of dark hair.
Tess looked away from that tantalizing sight and sipped her wine. “So basic training is done and now you’re being sent to Arizona. Any chance you might end up…overseas?”
“A very good chance,” he replied in that rumbly drawl. It always snaked up her spine like a delicious little stroke. “Because I’ve been in the National Guard since high school, I’m more likely to be deployed to a…less friendly place.”
“Be safe, Johnny Wilder,” she said, nudging him companionably with her elbow. She felt mellow, warm, soft…and the room was like a nice little cocoon, pressing down on her.
“I intend to.” He rose and she watched him walk a little unsteadily across the room.
His hair was short, buzzed in military style, and he held himself differently too. The severe cut made him look so very serious and mature, especially with his dark brows and very square jaw. Tess drew in a shaky breath. She’d stopped thinking of Johnny Wilder as a too-young boy years ago.
Her insides fluttered a little when she remembered the one kiss they’d shared, and the subsequent years of subtle awareness between them. Or at least, the subtle awareness she had for him. Definite animal attraction on her part. But she knew better than to let herself get interested in Wilder. He got around quite a bit (which was why she always ragged on him about wearing a condom), and she had a good idea how his mind w
orked when it came to women. After all, they’d been discussing his so-called love life for years. The nicest term for him when it came to women was “opportunist.”
And there’d been the New Year’s Eve two years back when they’d both been at the annual shindig with different people. She and Wilder had somehow ended up texting each other harmless, naughty little notes from across the room. She didn’t even remember how it started….
Oh, right. It was after she got up and sang “Santa Baby” with the band, vamping it up with her very best Marilyn Monroe/Madonna impression. She was in a sassy, fuchsia gown and Tess knew she had the attention of pretty much every guy in the room—except for Wilder. He had an arm slung around his date’s shoulders, whispering in her ear, making her giggle. Even from the stage, she could see his fingers playing with the ends of her hair and it was kind of sexy. Okay, really sexy.
Which was why, when she returned to Bill, her date, she was surprised to find a text message on her phone. From Wilder.
Thought Billy-Bob was gonna have a heart attack when u looked @ him like that. During song. Guy’s whipped.
I do my best, she wrote back, grinning at her phone. Maybe u and Betsy should get a room.
Been there, done that.
Hope u weren’t bareback, cowboy. Gotta take care of urself. Don’t be stupid. World isn’t ready for ur offspring!
Never stupid. U and Billy-Joe look bored. U should get a room.
Ha. Third date. U know I don’t do it on the third date.
No wonder he looks like that. Guy’s messed up.
Then, a while later after she’d danced crazily with her sisters, sang another song (“I’ll Be Home for Christmas”) and had more champagne, she received this message:
Why don’t you blow off Jim-Bob and come with me to get some more beer…or something.
What about Betsy?
What about Betsy? he replied. Non-issue. Let’s blow this place. U and me.
Ha! You’d be so lucky!!