[What's Luck Got to Do With It 01.0] Some Lucky Woman: Jana's Story

by Carmen DeSousa

  “So,” Connie started, breaking me from my thoughts, “did you read the screenplay I sent you?”

  My eyes shot to hers. “I knew it! What’d they change?”

  “Nothing major. But I can’t believe you didn’t read it. Aren’t you excited?”

  A breath of relief poured from me. “I’m afraid to read it, Connie. Since I don’t have any say, I figured I’d just wait for the movie.”

  The waiter set down the drinks, and Connie held up two fingers. “We have a limo, so when you see our glasses empty, bring another round, okay?” The young man nodded, refusing to look at me for approval. It was clear that the majority of the check, which meant more tip for him, was coming from the other side of the table.

  Since apparently I couldn’t fight the tiny woman across from me, I licked the sugar off the rim of the glass then, in one swig, emptied the sweet lemony liquid.

  I slammed down the glass. “There. Happy?”

  “Almost.” Connie’s eyes scoured the room, then stopped, nodding for me to look at something, or more than likely, someone.

  Reluctantly, I followed her gaze. I didn’t have my glasses on and hadn’t bothered to put in my contacts, but even with my bad eyes, I recognized the stance, then gait, of my ex-husband. “Oh, no!” I squeezed the bridge of my nose. Seriously? What had I done to deserve this evening?

  “What now?” Connie shrieked, but it was too late.

  Dick Embers’ long legs had made short work of the wide room. “Hi, Jana. What a surprise to see you out and about.”

  That’s because I’m not the one who likes to hang out at bars, I wanted to say, but preferring death over acknowledging him, I lifted the second glass the waiter had set in front of me.

  “Aren’t you gonna introduce me to your friend?” Dick asked, the typical car salesman who wouldn’t take an ignore as a cue to go away.

  “I’d rather not,” I said in a low murmur, which I hoped sounded like a growl.

  “Jana!” Connie screeched again. “What has come over you?”

  Before I could answer, Dr. Kijek slid in beside me, kissing me on the cheek. “Hi, Babe! Sorry I’m late.”

  I gawked at my physical therapist, certain that in a matter of seconds my face had turned beet red. Grateful for his interruption, though, I smiled. “Oh, hi … It’s okay. We’ve only been here a few minutes.” My face felt hot where his lips had barely brushed my cheek, and I realized that I couldn’t seem to pull the smile off my face.

  Adrian glanced up at my ex-husband, then cocked his head back at me. “I’ll have what they’re having.”

  “I’m not a waiter,” Dick Embers snarled.

  Adrian raised his chin, as if noticing him for the first time. “Oh, can I help you then?”

  “No.” Dick glared at me, then turned and left.

  “What the hell is going on, Jana?” Connie asked, her eyes focusing on Adrian, though. “And who’s he?”

  I licked my lips, then bit down on my lower lip, trying really hard to wipe the smile off my face. “Connie, this is Dr. Adrian Kijek. I told you about him, how he’s been helping me heal.” I pleaded with my eyes for her not to repeat all the other things I’d said about the good doctor. The reminder also took care of the stupid smile. “Adrian, this is my friend Connie.”

  Adrian reached across the table. “Nice to meet you, Connie.” I couldn’t help but notice how friendly he’d greeted Connie, nothing like how he’d interacted with me. Maybe because he was out of his office.

  She gracefully accepted Adrian’s outstretched hand, then made a tiny O with her lips. She looked to the table where Dick had come from. “And the hunk who stormed off? Tell me that’s your orthopedic surgeon, please.”

  “Not even close!” I spurted out. But sadly, Connie was correct about one thing; Dick still looked incredible. Unfortunately, while my looks diminished slightly every year, he only got better looking — as most men did. The sprinkling of gray hair in his dark curls and the feather-light crinkles at the corners of his eyes had made him more attractive, more distinguished.

  But he was still Dick. I wanted to add the article A before his name when I told her who he was, but that wouldn’t be very ladylike. “That lovely character — not — is my ex-husband.”

  Both sets of eyes turned to me, but neither Connie nor Adrian had any response.

  I shifted in my seat to look at my physical therapist. “Thank you, by the way. How did you know I didn’t want him here?”

  Now that Dick had left the table, Adrian adjusted his body so he wasn’t pressed up against my side. “I didn’t. I heard him talking about the two of you to his friends, then saw the look on your face as he was coming over, though, so I thought I’d run interference.”

  I sighed, wondering why I was completely comfortable with this man I’d been unable to pull two words out of in the last few weeks. “Well, thank you. Hard to believe, but I haven’t had a run-in with him in public, so I wasn’t sure what I should — Wait!” I stopped mid-sentence. “What was he saying about us?”

  Adrian shook his head. “You don’t want to know. But it explains a few things.”

  I peeked over Adrian’s shoulder to see Dick Embers staring at me, his dark brows nearly knitting together. Strange that he would look so jealous when he was the one who’d cheated. It had been nearly five years, though. What reason did he have to look angry? Maybe because he’d never seen me with another man. Well, good! Served him right.

  Ignoring my ex, I turned back to Adrian. “Explains what things?”

  “Excuse me,” Connie cut in, “I need to go to the ladies’ room.” I peeked up. Did she want me to follow her? She waved me off, mouthing the word, Stay!

  After Connie left, I looked to Adrian again.

  He shrugged. “I should leave.”

  “No!” I almost shouted. “Please stay. He’s still watching.”

  “Have you had trouble from him?” His eyes immediately narrowed, as though the thought of Dick causing me trouble was an issue that he’d be willing to lay to rest.

  “No. It’s just … I don’t know.” I struggled to put into words what I was feeling. Did I want to make Dick jealous, or did I want Adrian to stay?

  Chapter 19 – Please Don’t Go

  I was pretty sure I didn’t give a rat’s ass what Dick Embers thought; I just didn’t want Adrian to leave, which shocked me. Hadn’t I hated him just a few hours ago? No, I hadn’t. I’d never hated him. I just couldn’t understand why he’d hated me from minute one.

  Ever since he’d scooted away from me, the right side of my body craved the missing warmth he’d provided. The restaurant wasn’t cold by any means. In fact, the doors that led to a small patio allowed the tepid air to circulate through the pub, but that didn’t keep my body from shivering.

  “What don’t you know?” Adrian asked, his eyes now focused on me. “Your ex-husband has either given you a difficult time or he hasn’t.”

  “He hasn’t given me a hard time. Well, not since I kicked him out, that is. But as I said, I’ve never run into him in public, and it would just be easier if you stayed.”

  I questioned my response. I didn’t need a man to protect me. I was quite capable of dealing with Dick Embers. I’d been dealing with my ex’s pleas to come back for years. Even after he moved in his baby mama, he’d find an excuse to talk to me, ask if there was a chance of us reconciling. But it was the only thing I could think of to keep Adrian here. Had Angela been right? Had I been frustrated with Adrian only because of his lack of response to me? Had this man that I barely knew gotten under my skin?

  Adrian raked his eyes around the bar.

  A wave of panic surged through me. “Unless … I’m sorry. Were you expecting someone?”

  For the first time ever, at least the first time I’d ever seen, Adrian smiled. “No, I’m not waiting for anyone.” He signaled the waiter, ordered a Coors Light on tap, then turned back to me. “How long have you been divorced?”

  “Nearly five years.�
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  “That’s a long time not to have run into each other.”

  “I don’t go out much — to bars, that is. I’m more of an outdoorsy kinda gal. Or rather, used to be. Before Dr. Bellows decommissioned me from kayaking.”

  He laughed. A smile and a laugh in a matter of minutes. So Dr. Kijek was human after all. “Somehow, I never pictured you as an outdoorsy kinda gal.”

  “Why?” A note of irritation tainted my tone. He still didn’t like me … or assumed what type of woman I was without even knowing me.

  “I didn’t mean it as an insult. You just seem,” he paused, struggling for the right word, I guessed, “prissy.”

  My mouth dropped open. Prissy was the best word he could come up with! “Prissy? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Dr. Kijek raised his hands. “Look, I’m not trying to start a fight, and again, I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I just — you know what, I’m gonna go. I really shouldn’t be here anyway.”

  I rested my hand on his. “Don’t —” I cut off my appeal when my phone chimed. After a glance at the message, I sighed without warning.

  “What happened?”

  Ignoring Adrian, I looked up to see the limo pulling away. “Damn that woman!”

  Adrian’s gaze followed mine, then turned back to me. “What’s going on?”

  “My ride ditched me.”

  “The woman who just went to the bathroom?” He scanned the bar again. “Why?”

  Releasing a long breath, I reached for my martini. “If I had to guess, I think she was hoping you’d give me a ride home.”

  With that, Adrian jerked his eyes back to mine again. “Oh … Umm … I couldn’t. I can’t.”

  I shrugged. “It’s okay, Adrian. I can catch a ride via Uber. I don’t live too far away. Or, I could ask my ex-husband to drive me home. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

  Adrian pushed his full beer away, then signaled for the waiter. “I can’t let you do that either. But let’s go now. I’d rather not stay.”

  My stomach flipped. I didn’t want Adrian to go, but this turn of events was … I didn’t know what it was. Dangerous. Clearly, I was attracted to Adrian, which meant I shouldn’t allow him to drive me home.

  Relax, I chided myself. He’s just taking you home as a friend. As your therapist. It wasn’t as though Adrian was interested in me. He could barely say two words to me without scowling. Well, before tonight, that is. Running interference between Dick and me seemed out of character for him. As if I needed saving … from my ex!

  A shiver swept through me as I thought about the warmth I’d felt when Adrian swooped in like a knight in shining armor to save the damsel in distress, though.

  Oh, boy. I was in trouble. One glass of champagne and two martinis and I was swooning like a teenager.

  After paying for his beer and waiting for the server to box up my food as I’d requested — at least Connie was kind enough to pay for my drinks and appetizers — Adrian slid out of the booth, then waited for me to follow his lead. Ever so slightly, he rested his hand on the small of my back, directing me to the exit.

  Heart pumping, I chanced a peek over my shoulder to see my ex come off his barstool, as though he still had a claim on me.

  “Adrian?” I said as quietly as possible. The last thing I wanted was for Dick to try to pick a fight, something he tended to do if he’d drunk too much. My tone must have alerted Adrian, because he looked over his shoulder too. Dick stopped his approach. No surprise there. Dick was a tall guy, but he wasn’t a big guy. Adrian, on the other hand, had a body that screamed he was the superior athlete.

  Adrian narrowed his gaze at me. “You haven’t had any interaction in five years?”

  “Other than handling legal issues and discussing our son, nothing.”

  “Hmm,” was all Adrian said as he escorted me across the parking lot, stopping in front of an oversized pickup. He opened the passenger door, then stopped. Both of us stared up at the four-by-four F-150 that sat way too high off the ground for me. Even with the running boards, and if I had two good arms, it’d probably be difficult for me to scale. “Umm … Well, it’s not like it’s the first time I’ve had to put my hands on you. Do you mind?”

  I shook my head. “No, no. It’s fine.” Before I could prepare myself, his large hands wrapped around my waist and picked me up as though I weighed nothing at all. And there went my heart again. As though I’d been zapped by a defibrillator. Blood pulsed through my arteries so rapidly I was pretty sure he’d hear the rushing molten liquid.

  He closed the passenger door and within seconds, jumped up on the driver’s side and situated himself behind the wheel. “Where to?”

  Unable to speak through my suddenly parched throat, I pointed north. He quickly pulled out of the parking space.

  Frustration overtook me for a second. As much as I wanted to think it was all mental, I realized the pulsing between my legs was sexual frustration too. His “Hmm …” comment. His “Explains a few things …” remark. His … his … hands. His perfectly suntanned complexion. His delicious eyes. He just frustrates me to no end! I screamed inside my head.

  Even though it hurt, I crossed my arms. “Why do you hate me?”

  Unhurriedly, his eyes watching the road, he stole a peek at me. He wasn’t denying that he hated me. “Because you’re wearing a Steelers T-shirt.”

  “Stop messing with me, Adrian. I’m serious.”

  “I’m serious too. You’re in Tampa Bay. Bucs country, lady.”

  “Stop avoiding my question. From day one, you’ve done everything but bite my head off. I just want to know why.”

  Shaking his head, he blew out a breath. “I’m driving you home, Jana. Would I drive you home if I hated you?”

  “You’re being a gentleman. But you also questioned my statement about not having interaction with my ex-husband in five years, as if I lied to you. Turn left at the next light,” I added quickly.

  Adrian tossed a look over his left shoulder, then veered into the turning lane. “I don’t even know you, Jana, so how could I hate you?”

  “Exactly! But you do. I feel it.”

  “Why would you care what I think of you, or any man for that matter?”

  “Ah-ha! I knew it!” I shook my head, then stared out the window at the passing cars. Stupid men. Complain about a book without even reading it. “Take a right on the next street, then my house is the last one at the end of the cul-de-sac,” I said, only because I had to give him directions. Come Monday, though, I planned to find a new therapist, preferably a woman again. At least she’d have to look harder to find a reason not to like me. Instead of hating me because I was a member of the opposite sex who had the nerve to write about men. Truth told, the men who’d read my book had loved it. Including Mr. Tomcat himself, Howard Edwards the Second, since he was adapting it into a major motion picture. The last thing I was going to do, though, was defend myself in front of Dr. Kijek by telling him that.

  Adrian pulled into my driveway, then hopped out without saying a word. Oh, yeah. I still needed him, I growled internally. He opened the door, and as much as I just wanted to hop down, I knew that would be stupid. Last thing I needed was to break my ankle, so I allowed him to assist me.

  As soon as both of my feet were firmly on the ground, I tried to walk past him, but he blocked me in the doorway of his truck. “I don’t hate you. But even if I did, why would it matter?”

  “It just does. It’s not fair.” I pulled back my lip which had inadvertently stuck out in a pout as I’d said the stupid words, making me sound childish even to myself.

  Adrian flashed a sideways smile, which tugged up one side of his boyishly-round face, making him even cuter than he already was. “Fair?” He chuckled. “Haven’t you heard, Jana? Life isn’t fair.”

  Crossing my arms again, this time to protect myself from his closeness, I stood as tall as my petite frame would allow, which was at least seven to eight inches shorter than his six-foot-something height
. “Yeah, well. That might be true, but you should withhold judgment until after you’ve had a chance to get to know someone. Or better yet, don’t judge at all!”

  Adrian leaned in, lowering his head. So close that his warm breath tickled my ear. “I don’t hate you, Jana.”

  My shirt suddenly felt about two sizes too small, immediately making me feel self-conscious.

  Smiling, he stepped back, and I quickly made my escape, hating that he’d sensed my attraction to him, even while I was trying to be stern.

  His tennis shoes absorbed the sound of his footsteps on the concrete, but I couldn’t miss the soft crunch of the leaves I hadn’t been able to sweep off the walkway.

  Three feet from the door, I whirled on him. “What are you doing?”

  “Gentleman, remember?” He pointed to himself. “A gentleman should always walk a young lady to her door.”

  “Young lady?” I said through a chuckle, biting my lower lip. “I’m almost old enough to be your mother.”

  “Not likely,” he shot back.

  It seemed we were going to fight over everything. What was next? Politics? Religion? Heaven forbid. “What are you, Adrian, twenty-five?”

  “I’m not sure if that was an insult, or if you’re trying to flatter me so I won’t hate you. I’m thirty-five, Jana.”

  “Oh!” Wait, what? Adrian was thirty-five? Oh, no! That meant he was dateable. No! He’s your physical therapist. He’s not dateable. Was dateable even a word?

  Smiling again, probably at the look of shock on my face, Adrian leaned against the entry post. He shook his head, then narrowed his eyes. “You really thought I was twenty-five?”

  Attempting to play off my shock, as if it mattered how old he was, I shrugged. “Late twenties, at best.”

  “It’s the hair, isn’t it? The light hair.”

  “And the curls and the tan,” I added. “Sort of gives you a surfer look.”

  “Great!” He gave me a head nod, then turned to leave. “Have a nice night, Jana.”