That’s when the meeting took a turn that had ended up extending it. And he’d still had the forty-minute commute back to Colorado Springs and a stop at his motel for a shower and change of clothes.
He glanced as his watch as he opened the diner door for exiting customers. It was just before eight. Geneva was going to be pissed. If she was even still there…
He stopped inside the door.
She was.
She sat at the end of the counter looking better than any one woman had the right to.
Certainly any one pregnant woman.
He swallowed hard. She wore what to anyone else might look like a simple fall flowered dress. But to him, it might as well have been a fire-engine-red teddy and garters. She sat on the stool with her long legs crossed and was half turned away from him, talking to the diner owner, her dark hair a sexy cloud around her face.
He felt the urge to loosen his tie, only he wasn’t wearing one.
Then she saw him.
Oh, boy.
Maybe this hadn’t been the brightest idea he’d ever had. Damn if he didn’t feel like walking up and kissing her breathless.
She didn’t get up. She merely swiveled her stool until she was facing him more fully. He noticed the V of the neck of her dress that revealed soft, tanned skin and full breasts.
He realized he hadn’t moved since entering and forced himself to walk toward her.
“Hi,” he said, holding out the simple red rose he held. “Sorry I’m late.”
Her smile seemed to take up the whole of her face. “Forgiven.”
He barely registered that the room had gone quiet. Everyone was watching them, a few customers at tables but mostly staff gathered around the counter…and Dustin, who sat closer to her now, but had likely occupied the same end stool he had the night before.
“Hi,” he said, extending his hand to the guy. “I’m Mace.”
The other man hesitated, then accepted his shake. “Dustin.”
“Dustin? Nice to meet you. Geneva’s told me a lot about you. Congratulations on the baby.”
He appeared surprised, then wary. “Thanks.”
For a moment, Mace felt sorry for the poor guy. He couldn’t say he blamed him for wanting more. But it was Geneva’s call and he had no cause to question the line she’d drawn.
“Ready?” he asked her.
“Ready.”
She got up and he helped her with the light, fall raincoat she took off a neighboring stool. He caught a whiff of her perfume—the scent of something fresh and sexy—and was helpless to stop himself from humming as his fingers brushed her hair back over the collar.
“You smell good,” he said.
“Better than meat loaf?”
“Better than meat loaf.”
Her smile widened. “You smell pretty good yourself.”
He was aware of the jukebox playing and wondered if she’d made the selection. No, he didn’t wonder. He knew she had. Because the song playing was B-17.
He offered his arm and she took it.
“Good night, everyone,” he said as he opened the door for her.
“Have fun” was one of the many returns.
Fun. Yes.
Somehow Mace didn’t think the word came near covering it.
6
GENEVA COULDN’T REMEMBER a time when she’d felt so…tongue-tied. She didn’t have a clue what to say as Mace drove her to their destination. And where were they going again?
She found herself burying her nose in the bloom of the rose he’d given her, breathing deeply then smiling. There had been a minute or two when she’d been afraid he was going to be a no-show. And she hadn’t quite known how to feel about that. Had it been a real date, she would have been upset. But because it was a pretend one…?
Then he’d stood looking at her in that way from the door. And all thought of real or pretend had faded away like the morning fog, leaving her happy he’d come.
Thankfully, the ride wasn’t long. He pulled into the parking lot of a place called The Barracks, which appeared to be a pub she’d passed often but had never been to.
“Thank you,” she said as he switched off the car.
He looked at her. “You’re welcome. I think. What are you thanking me for?”
She held up the rose. “For this. For saying what you did to Dustin. For suggesting we go out.”
His gaze caught and held hers for long moments, making it all too easy to forget this wasn’t real at all.
“I’m thinking I’m the one who’s going to come out ahead in our little arrangement. Stay where you are. I’ll open the door for you.”
He got out before she could ponder his words. Then he got her door, allowing her to climb out. Then he closed it behind her and offered her his arm again.
She took it and shivered.
“Are you warm enough?”
“Enough. Yes.”
Truth was, her shiver had nothing to do with the chilly evening.
“I was hoping we’d have a little time before Janine arrived,” he said as they walked inside the pub. “But I’m afraid my lateness isn’t going to allow for it. I’m thinking she might already be inside.”
“Have you told her anything?” she asked as he helped her with her coat.
“No.”
“Mace!”
A man called out to him from a nearby table packed with other guys. Geneva stood smiling politely as he greeted each of them. It was easy to see they were longtime friends he hadn’t seen in a while. That he took time to introduce them to her touched her in a way she was unprepared to acknowledge.
“Sorry about that,” he said after he’d spoken to them for a few minutes, promising that they’d get together for a beer before he left town again.
“It’s okay.”
He led her to a free table and pulled out a chair for her. She sat down and thanked him.
“Have you eaten yet?” he asked.
“No. But that’s okay. I had a big lunch.”
Truth was, the heavy smell of all things fried was doing interesting and not welcoming things to her stomach.
“You sure?”
She nodded.
A waitress appeared. He placed an order for a beer and asked what she wanted.
“Tomato juice with Bloody Mary mix on the side, hold the vodka.”
She looked to find Mace smiling at her.
“What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
She shifted in her chair, trying but failing to look casual. In all honesty, she felt anything but in Mace’s presence.
“I have to admit, I feel a little sorry for the guy,” he said.
“Who? Dustin?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I can’t blame him for wanting more.”
She felt herself blush. Which was stupid. “He just thinks he wants more. He feels he has to man up or some sort of thing.”
He held her gaze for a long moment then shook his head. “No, Geneva. It’s not something he thinks he wants. It’s something he wants…”
She fussed with her skirt and recrossed her legs, readying an objection, but somehow couldn’t find the words.
Then she caught sight of a knockout blonde at the end of the bar. The woman seemed intently focused on their table.
“Um, what does Janine look like?” she asked.
“Why?”
“Because I think she’s already here.”
His grimace spoke volumes. “I was afraid of that.”
Geneva looked at him. “She’s beautiful.”
“Yeah. I guess she is. I just wish it went beyond skin deep.”
“How long did you guys date?”
“A year.�
�
“Well…it must have gone deeper than what you’re saying to have lasted that long.”
“Nah. I just hoped it did.”
The blonde got up. “Don’t look now, but she’s heading in our direction,” Geneva added.
She watched as he stiffened.
“Mace?”
He looked up and smiled. Only it wasn’t the type of smile she’d seen him wear before. “Janine. Hi.”
He got up and gave her a brief hug then turned. “I’d like you to meet Geneva. Geneva, this is Janine.”
“Hi,” Geneva said. “Nice to meet you, finally.”
One of the blonde’s perfectly penciled brows arched at the last word. Geneva couldn’t help noticing the way Mace’s smile broadened.
“Nice to meet…you, too. Geneva, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“I’d like to say Mace mentioned you…”
“Well, we haven’t exactly talked,” he said.
“No. But I was hoping to talk to you tonight,” Janine said pointedly. “Alone.”
“Sorry,” he said. “But if you’d like to join Geneva and I…?”
Geneva’s stomach tightened at the thought of sharing their table with the pretty blonde, despite Mace’s obvious coolness toward her.
“No, no. Go on ahead. I’ll catch up with you another time.”
“Okay.”
“Have a nice night,” she said.
“Thank you. I’m sure we will,” Geneva said. “We always do.”
Mace waited until Janine walked away then sat back down, his shoulders still stiff, his face tight.
“What’s she doing?” he asked.
Geneva looked casually over his shoulder. “She appears to be…yes, she’s leaving.”
Finally, he seemed to relax. “Good.”
She couldn’t help relaxing a bit herself.
“Sorry to tell you this, but that’s not the last you’re going to hear from her, I’m afraid.”
He reached across and covered her hands with his. “Why do you think I asked for a week of your time?”
His grin was all too warm…and far too sexy.
“Five minutes,” he said.
“I’m not following you.”
“Oh yes, you will. In five minutes. Through that door. I’m going to take you somewhere to get something proper to eat.”
“Really, that’s not necessary.”
“It’s completely necessary. No arguing.”
Their drinks arrived, but neither of them touched them. She watched as Mace peeled off a few bills, placed them under his beer bottle, then got up to help her back on with her coat.
She was glad it was just going to be the two of them again. And their…friendship.
* * *
LATER THAT NIGHT, Geneva opened the door to her apartment. She didn’t think twice about leaving it open for him to follow her inside. This wasn’t a date and they’d spent the past two hours laughing and talking at a nice Italian restaurant up the street from The Barracks. She’d had minestrone soup and garlic breadsticks—something she’d never dare order on a real date—and accepted a couple of bites of his seafood linguine.
“Coffee?” she asked, shrugging out of her coat and stepping out of her shoes, leaving both by the door.
“I’d love some. Nice place.”
“Thanks.”
Her mom would have loved Mace, she couldn’t help thinking. Besides the fact that he was hotter than any guy she’d ever dated, he was kind and smart and knew how to make a woman feel like a lady.
She put the coffee on, then got cookies out of the cupboard.
“Thank you.”
Mace’s quiet words caught her off guard.
At the restaurant, both of them had laughed over how successful their first night out as a “couple” had gone, joking about where they could take it from there. He’d agreed to attend the dance, so long as she went to some event or other with him on Saturday afternoon.
“You’re welcome. Thank you back.”
“You’re welcome. But that’s not what I meant.”
She took mugs out of the cupboard. “Oh?”
“I really enjoy spending time with you.”
She couldn’t help a goofy grin. “Ditto.”
She busied herself getting out the cream and sugar and arranging them on a tray with the cookies.
“Why don’t you find something on the stereo while I get this ready?”
“What? Sure.”
The moment he left the room, she exhaled, unaware she’d been holding her breath. The way he sometimes looked at her… She gave a tiny shiver. It was all too easy to think this—what was happening—had little to do with a fake relationship and everything to do with a real one.
She heard the soft strains of Harry Chapin and caught her breath. Moments later, she placed the tray on the coffee table in the living room.
“Is this okay?” he asked, turning from the stereo.
“Yes. More than okay. One of my favorites. One of Mom’s, too.”
“Are you sure? If it makes you uncomfortable…”
She shook her head. “No, it’s perfect.”
A week ago she might have burst into tears at the selection. Even now, her eyes moistened. But the rough edges of her grief were slowly beginning to soften and she was beginning to be able to appreciate things connected to her mother.
He joined her on the sofa and accepted his coffee cup.
“So, tell me…” she said carefully after handing him a cup. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not over Janine?”
7
THE WAY MACE SAW IT, she could have dumped the contents of his coffee cup down the front of his slacks and she couldn’t have surprised him more.
“I’m sorry. What?”
She sat back on the flowery sofa that boasted a ton of pillows and tucked her legs under her, looking sexier now than she had earlier. Which, considering what she’d just said, was a bit of a feat.
She picked up her coffee cup and shrugged lightly, although he got the impression there was nothing light about the question she’d just thrown at him.
“I don’t know. The way I see it, if you’re not truly interested in someone, then you feel indifferent toward them. And I think indifference is the furthest thing you feel when it comes to Janine.”
Mace rested his forearms on his knees, cupping his coffee in his hands, carefully considering her words.
“Does that make sense?” she asked.
“To a certain extent, yes.” But that wasn’t all of it. “I suppose what you’re saying is true in some ways. But not in the way you mean.”
“Then in what way?”
He looked at her, hating the idea that she believed he still might be harboring emotions for his ex. “What remains in my feelings for Janine is hurt. And maybe confusion.” He shook his head. “No, definitely confusion. A lot of it…”
He sat back as well so he partially faced her.
The apartment was feminine, but not overpoweringly so. While the sofa they sat on boasted a chintzy flowery upholstery, the rest of the furniture was almost mission style, and there wasn’t another flower in the place. He’d noticed the dining room didn’t boast the traditional table, but was rather an office…and a working one at that. He recalled her telling him she was also a graphics designer and that she had nearly built her client list up to the point where she could permanently quit working Rocky’s. But she said she liked the routine, and could see herself still working part-time for some while yet, if just to make sure she got out of her apartment regularly.
Besides, she’d told him, some of her best ideas came while she was watching a customer’s face as he or she tried to decide between th
e open-faced roast beef sandwich or the closed.
Of course, he could have done without that particular comparison; it made him think of edging something else open…
“It’s complicated,” he said, continuing his thread of thought. “I mean, I loved her. God knows I loved her. I would never think of doing to her what she did to me. It just wasn’t a consideration. My parents…well, they’ve been married for over thirty years and to my knowledge, neither of them have ever looked at anyone else, much less been unfaithful.”
Geneva nodded. “I understand. When you love somebody, well…”
She left her sentence unfinished.
So, he tried to put a period on both. “What I’m trying to say, I guess, is that yes, in some ways, you’re right. I’m not over it. But the emphasis is on the ‘it.’ Not Janine herself, but what happened between us at the end of our relationship.” He sipped his coffee. “I thought I was over it, had moved on. Until…”
“Until she called.”
He held her gaze. “Yeah. Until she called.”
“So I’m guessing you just tucked those feelings away into a neat little box—or tried to, anyway—and now, well, now the lid’s off and they’re tumbling back out at you again.”
“More like a lasso around my ankles.”
Her expression was so soft, so understanding, he felt something shift inside him merely looking at her.
“I wish it wasn’t that way. I mean, who in their right mind would want to feel this way? But…”
“But it is what it is.”
“Yeah. In a nutshell.”
He watched the way she smoothed her hand over her tucked legs, back and forth, forth and back.
“Have you ever been in love?” he found himself asking.
Her hand stopped midcalf. “Pardon me?”
He smiled, knowing by her reaction that she’d heard him.
She looked down into the contents of her cup. He wanted to tell her she wasn’t going to find the answers there. Then again, who was he to say? Maybe that’s where they’d be. And he might be better served looking into his own cup before asking stupid questions like the one he just did.
Distinguished Service & Every Move You Make (Uniformly Hot!) Page 5