For a Good Time Call

by Trish Jensen

  She glanced up, her beautiful blue eyes regarding him with something close to distaste. Kit couldn’t believe how much her expression wounded him. If she still cared about him, she was doing a fine job of masking it.

  “You approve of the commercial?” she asked, still not sitting, and still packing.

  “Yes, it’s fine. Excellent, in fact.”

  She nodded . . . and kept right on packing. “Fine. Then I believe this meeting’s over.”

  “No, it’s not,” he said, through gritted teeth. “I want to talk about a concept for the spring campaign.”

  “Then I suggest you schedule another meeting. One with whoever is taking over the Bella Luna account.”

  “Excuse me?” Kit said, over the sudden silence screaming throughout the conference room.

  “You heard me.”

  “You’re resigning from the account?”

  She studied him blandly. “That’s right.”

  Kit’s heart began pounding but he tried to match her bored look for bored look. “May I ask why?”

  “You may. But I think you already know the answer, Mr. Fleming. I’ve kept my commitment to see the initial ad blitz through. This is where it ends.”

  “This is business, Ms. Spencer. Keep your personal feelings out of it.”

  That stopped her in her tracks. She examined him as if he were a slimy green bug. “No can do, Mr. Fleming.” She made eye contact with each of the other seven men in the room. “Gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure working with you.”

  Kit noticed she didn’t glance his way again as she said this. In stunned disbelief he watched her lift her briefcase and move to the door.

  Jim Forbes jumped up to follow her.

  “Forbes!” Kit barked, stopping the man. Jim turned around. “Sit down,” Kit commanded, rising himself. “Start talking concept. I’ll see Ms. Spencer out.”

  Sherry wasn’t thrilled by that announcement, if her quickened strides were any indication. With a muffled curse, Kit started after her, catching her as she practically ran past his wide-eyed secretary.

  “Sherry, wait,” he growled. “Let’s talk about this.”

  She yanked her arm out of his grasp and kept right on marching toward the elevator. She snatched her visitor’s badge from the lapel of her suit and dropped it on the guard’s desk. “Sherry Spencer, checking out.”

  Kit kept silent as she jabbed at the elevator button. But as soon as the elevator door whooshed open, he stepped in right behind her. She would have stepped out, but he blocked her way. “No, you don’t. We’re going to talk.”

  “We have nothing to say,” she said, a small catch to her voice.

  The hesitation in her tone told Kit what he wanted to know. She still cared. She might hate his guts, but she still cared, too. He couldn’t believe how much the thought raised his hopes. “Don’t do this, Sherry,” he said, grasping her shoulders. “There’s no reason for you to resign the account.”

  She whacked his hip with her briefcase. “Take your hands off me.”

  He complied, rubbing his thigh. “Ouch!”

  For a split second, concern flashed in her eyes, but she quickly masked it. “There is every reason to resign this account. You are a pompous, arrogant, self-centered control freak. No one in her right mind would willingly continue to work with you. Find yourself another account exec.”

  “You’re resigning because of what happened between us. Admit it.”

  She opened her mouth as if to argue the point, but then shut it with a click of her teeth. After a moment, she said, “Well, that’s part of it.”

  “What if I said I’ll stay away from the meetings? What if I say you work directly with Jim from now on?”

  She shook her head, and strands of her hair fell free from her bun. “No. I can’t do it.”

  “Why not?”

  The elevator door swung open, and she quickly stepped through. “Sherry Spencer, hitting the road at”—she glanced at her watch—”twelve-forty-four,” she said to the guard.

  Then she headed for the reception area, Kit hot on her heels. At the front door she said to the receptionist, “Sherry Spencer, out of here.”

  Desperation seized Kit. They couldn’t leave it like this. He couldn’t stand the thought of this being his last encounter with her. Wild thoughts flew through his head, thoughts of promises and futures, of dropping to his knees and begging her not to do this to them. But as he followed her to her car, he came to his senses. He’d been the one to do this to them, not she. In fact, he’d been the one to declare that there wasn’t, and never would be, a them.

  As she fumbled with her keys, the desperation in him died a painful death, to be replaced by a despair that was baffling and overwhelming. Sherry started to open the door, but Kit forced it closed, compelling her to turn to him one final time. “What if I told you I was a fool?”

  A small sob sounded in her throat, one that made his heart ache. He’d done this to her, hurt her beyond belief. He didn’t deserve her love, a love she’d given so honestly, and that he’d tossed aside with an arrogance and stupidity that made him want to hurt himself. Bad.

  “I would agree with you,” Sherry choked out. “Among other things.”

  With soul-wrenching resignation, he dropped his hand from the door and stepped back, giving her her freedom. “I wish you well, Sherry.”

  Her eyes went misty and she blinked rapidly. Without another word she wrenched open the door and climbed in the car, tossing her briefcase on the passenger seat.

  She didn’t once look at him as she put the vehicle in gear and drove away.

  Kit watched the car until it disappeared from sight. A burning in his chest nearly consumed him, and for a moment he doubled over, propping his hands on slightly bent knees.

  His breath was choppy, his throat all but closed. Far, far too late, he understood what had happened.

  He was in love. It had taken him thirty-six years, but he’d finally found love. And the woman he loved had just driven out of his life.

  Forever.

  “Well, sis, you finally got your wish.”

  Kit took the drink Rachel handed him and dropped glumly onto the chintz couch in her sitting room.

  Rachel quickly joined him, her eyes brimming with alarm. “Kit, you look awful. Like you haven’t slept in a week. What’s wrong?”

  Kit sipped his tonic and lime, feeling every weary muscle in his body start to relax. It had only been four days, actually, since Sherry had zoomed out of his life, but it felt more like four centuries. But Rachel was right. He hadn’t slept a wink in that time, too angry over his utter stupidity. And too confused.

  Love sucked.

  “Kit, you’re frightening me!” Rachel said. “Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

  “I’m in love,” he stated flatly, glaring at the bubbles in his drink as if they’d been personally responsible for his sorry state. Absolute silence greeted his declaration. When he couldn’t stand the screaming shock permeating the room another moment, he looked up and barked, “Well? What do you have to say to that? Your fondest dream has been realized, sister of mine.”

  “You don’t look thrilled,” Rachel commented dryly.

  “Thrilled?” Kit emitted a gritty burst of laughter. “No, I am not thrilled. Horrified, terrified, maybe, but definitely not thrilled.”

  Laughing softly, Rachel patted his shoulder. “My condolences.”

  “This isn’t funny.”

  She did a really lousy job of stifling her smile. “No, of course not.”

  “It’s a nightmare.”

  “Terrible,” Rachel agreed.

  “Horrendous.”

  “Ghastly,” she choked out.

  “You’re laughing at me.”

  “I most certainly am.”

  “Well, cut it out.”

  Rachel set down her own drink and gave Kit a quick, fierce hug. “I’m so happy for you.”

  Kit growled. “Don’t be.”

  She sat back and pee
red at him. “Why not? Kit, love isn’t a disease. It’s something to be treasured.”

  He stared down into his drink again. “Not if the feeling isn’t returned.”

  “Oh, no,” Rachel whispered. “Oh, Kit, I’m sorry.”

  “She did love me once, but I blew it.”

  “Is it . . . Sherry?”

  “Yes.” He rubbed his chest, which hadn’t stopped aching for four freaking days. He wasn’t certain it would ever stop. How could he have been so blind? So stupid? So incredibly arrogant? For months he’d been somewhat content, secure in the knowledge that a woman like Sherry could love him. Secure in the knowledge that he’d get to see her, if only during business hours.

  Yes, he’d missed her, yearned to make love to her again. But incredible fool that he’d been, he’d considered keeping their relationship professional a noble gesture. It had never occurred to him that the thoughts of her that consumed him all these months had been born of love. For that he was paying. Paying dearly.

  “Kit, love doesn’t just go away,” Rachel put in quietly. “If she truly loved you, she most likely still does.”

  Kit looked up, the vise in his chest easing. “Do you really believe that?”

  “Absolutely. Honest love is for keeps.”

  “You mean,” he said, touching his chest again, “this awful feeling is never going away?”

  “Never.”

  “Damn,” he muttered. “What the hell am I going to do?”

  “Well, for starters, you could try fighting for her.”

  “Fighting for her,” he repeated. “How?”

  “By telling her . . . wait a minute, no . . . by showing her how you feel.”

  Setting down his drink, Kit pondered the idea. “Showing her . . .” he mused. He turned to his sister. “You know, I saw this movie once.” He waved. “I forget the name, but Cary Grant was in it. He wanted to propose to his woman on top of the Empire State Building.”

  “An Affair To Remember.”

  “Right!” Kit said, pointing at Rachel’s nose. “Maybe I could drag her to the Empire State Building and propose.”

  Rachel smiled. “A grand gesture, to be sure.”

  Kit’s enthusiasm shriveled. “Sherry’s not big on grand gestures.”

  “What’s she big on?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What does she want, Kit?”

  He thought about that. “Commitment. Marriage. Children. The works.”

  “Are you willing to give her all that?”

  A twinge of panic bit into him at the idea of marriage and children. Two things he’d sworn his whole life he would never have. But the panic subsided as fast as it had hit him, and suddenly longing took its place. The thought of commitment to Sherry, marriage, children with her, became the single most appealing idea he’d ever had. He wanted it all, too. He wanted it all . . . with her.

  He smiled as he considered Sherry transforming his house into a home to be cherished. A haven filled with love and laughter and kids. Jumping up, he hauled a surprised Rachel to her feet and trapped her in a bear hug. “Have I ever told you I love you, sis?”

  Rachel stared up at him, then blinked over suddenly wet blue eyes. “No, Kit, you haven’t. But I’ve always known it.”

  “A very big mistake on my part. I love you, Rachel.”

  “I love you, too.”

  He released her, then grabbed his jacket from the chair where he’d flung it. “Gotta go. I’ve got a lot of stupidity to make up for.”

  Sherry let herself into her apartment building tiredly. Every muscle she owned begged for relief. In the last week she’d taken to jogging until she nearly dropped, hoping to clear her head, to ignore her aching heart. It wasn’t working. Thoughts of Kit and the fact that she’d never see him again in this lifetime were nearly killing her.

  Even from down the hall she saw the small green item taped to her door. She stopped dead for a moment. And then adrenaline pumped into her tired body, and she broke into a run. With shaking hands she pulled the twenty dollar bill from the door and turned it over. And her heart stopped beating.

  For a lifetime, call Kit.

  Sherry slumped against the doorframe, her heart picking up the beat, pounding in almost painful spurts. Shaking, she let herself into her condo and stopped in the middle of the living room, unsure what to do next. For a lifetime, call Kit. What did it mean? And did she want to call and find out?

  Of course she did. Didn’t she?

  Laying the twenty on the coffee table, she decided to ponder it over a nice cool shower. After all, she didn’t want to call the man when she was all sweaty and everything. She took two steps toward her bathroom before she swung back and lunged for the phone. Sweat be damned.

  Kit answered before she even heard a ring. “Fleming,” he said, his voice pitched low.

  “Spencer,” she answered, in a breathless whisper. Her pulse was threatening to send her into cardiac arrest.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d call.”

  “I . . . wasn’t sure I should.”

  “I’m glad you did.”

  She wanted to be cool and aloof and emotionless. Too bad she didn’t have enough willpower to pull it off. His tone, his hesitation, his . . . lack of control snapped her good sense in two. “What does this mean, Kit?”

  “Will you come to my house, Sherry? I want to show you something.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t want to tell you, I want to show you. Please, Sherry.”

  “Are you demanding my presence, Mr. Fleming?”

  “I’m asking. I’m . . . begging.”

  “Oh, Kit,” she breathed. “I don’t want you begging.”

  “Whatever it takes, I’m willing. Please, Sherry, come over.”

  “All right,” she said slowly. “Can you give me an hour?”

  “It’ll be the longest damn hour of my life. But yes, of course.”

  “Can you give me a hint what this is about?”

  “I want to show you my new rules.”

  As fast as she got ready, Sherry could’ve been at Kit’s in half an hour, maybe less. But she forced herself to dawdle at home. Wouldn’t do to appear too eager, even though she was buzzing with anticipation.

  Was it possible? No, she couldn’t believe it. Not until she heard it from the man’s sexy lips.

  She arrived at Kit’s house exactly one hour after the phone call. Fashionably late was not a phrase in her lexicon at the moment. He answered the door before she rang the doorbell. They stared at each other in silence for the longest time. Awareness thrummed through her, as she remembered the last time she’d been here, and what had happened to her then. The way he’d loved and cherished her with his hands, his body . . . and his heart, whether he’d realized it or not.

  God, she loved the idiot.

  Kit shook his head as if to clear it and stepped back. “Come in.”

  Sherry blinked, then willed her legs forward. He looked absolutely scrumptious today. His honey-brown hair was still damp at his temples, and his eyes had taken on a forest green hue. He wore a pale green oxford shirt, sleeves rolled, and khaki-colored chinos that hugged his hips lovingly.

  Sherry’s chest grew warm and tight at the look in Kit’s eyes. If he didn’t say another word, she’d still know. He cared about her. Really cared. Unfortunately for him, she was going to force him to spell it out.

  “Are you going to tell me what this means?” she asked, pulling the twenty dollar bill from her jeans pocket.

  “Yes,” he said, but just stood there like a gorgeous lump.

  Sherry waited. And waited. “Well?”

  He shook his head, chuckling. “I’m just . . . so glad you came. I don’t know where to start.”

  “How about at the beginning?”

  “Do you have any idea how much I want you right now?”

  She had a pretty good idea. If he wanted her a fraction as much as she wanted him, his pants were probably feeling a bit tight at the moment.
Every nerve in her screamed for her to jump into his arms, to kiss him, hold him, love him. But not yet. She wasn’t risking her heart again. Not until he risked his.

  “That’s a moot point, Kit, as long as the rules are still the same.”

  “Ah, yes, the rules. I’ll let you decide. Come with me.”

  He held out his hand. Sherry hesitated a moment before she laid her palm to his. Kit turned and tugged her toward his formal living room. Throwing open the doors, he pulled her inside.

  Sherry gasped as she looked around. The room was completely bare. Not a stitch of furniture or drapes remained. All that was left from the room she remembered was the elaborate wallpaper and wainscoting. “Were you robbed?”

  Before she knew it, she was in his arms. He gazed down on her with a half-smile. “Yes, I was. For thirty-six years.”

  “Wh-what?”

  “For thirty-six years I was robbed of so many things. Laughter. Joy.” He took a deep breath. “Love.”

  “Oh, Kit, I—”

  He laid a finger on her lips. “Then a few months ago this woman came into my life. And all of a sudden I felt . . . happy. Suddenly smiling was easy. Every time I was with her, I felt . . . good. And I was too blind to realize why.”

  “What does that have to do with this?” she said, indicating the empty room.

  He took her shoulders and turned her to face the vast barrenness. “This is me without you. Empty. Lifeless.” Swinging her back to him, he looked deep into her eyes, and Sherry was lost. “I need you in my life, Sherry. Without you, I’m just a shell. You fill something in me, and I need that. I need you.”

  “But—”

  “No! Don’t say anything yet. Let’s complete the tour.” He took her hand and led her to the foyer, then to the wide staircase. He took one step and stopped. “Oh, what the hell.”

  With that he swept her into his arms and Sherry gasped. With a grin, he kissed her. “Even I’ve seen Gone With The Wind.”

  Sherry thought of what the staircase scene had led to in the classic movie, and heat filled her belly, flashing along her nerve endings. As he ascended the steps, she thought about what she would do if he tried to take her to bed right now. She knew she shouldn’t do it, but she wasn’t certain she had the strength of will to deny him.