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Holly smiled. She figured the fake it till you make it philosophy might actually work if she pretended she was glad to be here at Taylor’s, a local bar with a huge dance floor and subtle lighting. Yesterday, she decided she had to stop wallowing about what happened with Joe. So she went to the end-of-the-year party and now the group headed out to the dance floor. She remembered her grandparents swirling around the living room together then teaching her steps—and yearned for the days when her family was whole.

Sidling up to the bar, she took out some money and ordered her favorite wine.

Greg slipped in next to her. “Hey, I would have gotten that for you.”

“No need. Let me buy you one.”

He ordered a gin and tonic. They made small talk about school. He was nice-looking with his blondish hair a little long and his blue eyes alight. He was happy to be here with her. And he’d never uttered an unkind word to her. Guilt surfaced from her soul. She knew in her heart that she’d rather be with Joe, and that wasn’t fair to Greg. But she was doubting things would work for them if they couldn’t even handle some scrapes between them.

“Do I have something on my face?” he asked.

“No, I was thinking what an attractive man you are.”

“I like hearing that. You look particularly lovely tonight.”

“Thanks. I don’t wear this very often.” She’d changed into jeans, like most of the teachers, but wore a long, off-the-shoulder pink tunic. Daring for her. But her mother always said, dress up when you feel rotten.

You don’t feel rotten. You feel longing.

They sipped their drinks, listened to the band and watched the dancers. The band was playing a fast-paced song and the floor was crowded. People were doing all kinds of movements from jumping up and down to complicated steps together as a couple. One duo caught her eye. “Oh, my God.”

“What is it, Holly?” Greg sounded alarmed.

“Um, I was thinking how everybody’s better than me.”

He gave her an askance look.

“Look at them.”

“You’re a great dancer.” He took the wine from her hand, set down their glasses and led her to the floor. “Let’s join them.”

They started out close together and picked up the rhythm easily. Greg spun her out and she returned with her back to him. They did a few moves with her facing outward.

That’s when Joe saw her. He was in a clinch with his date, and when he glanced over the woman’s shoulder, he got a glimpse of Holly. His eyes narrowed on her. It was a searing look.

That’s it. She spun back around and let go.

Joe thought, Of all the gin joints! She was here, with her boyfriend. He’d come to Taylor’s to escape thoughts of her and treat the guys to some brews. Then some of his friends he used to hang out with showed up and Sheila had asked him to dance. He was on the floor with her now.

 Holly looked...absolutely beautiful. Creamy shoulders peeked from the top in her favorite color which cloaked her body every time she moved. And she was moving, all right. He had no idea she could dance like that. It was sexy as hell.

Well, he could match that. He took Sheila’s hand and did a tango-like move: bodies touching, arms outstretched, stepping forward into the crowd. Others sidled out of the way— sorry guys but this is important. They stopped dramatically, pivoted fast and paced back. He could feel Holly’s eyes on him. Then he pulled Sheila to him, and dipped her almost to the floor.

The next song was slow. It was one of his favorites, the theme from The Bodyguard with the lead singer of the band doing a great imitation of Whitney Houston. He moved with Sheila, trying not to think of how the words of the song could have easily apply to his relationship with Holly. But they’d had a stupid fight, then she’d come over at the wrong time. She obviously wanted to make up, but he’d spurned her because he’d been pouting about Francey. Hadn’t he learned anything in the last few years?

At one point, they faced each other over their dates’ shoulders. The poignant look they shared devastated them both.

Holly got ready for bed slowly. She was exhausted from trying to keep up a front all night, two glasses of wine and all that dancing.

Liar. My fatigue is because of Joe.

She knew that, but she didn’t know what to do from here.

Berating her obsession, she brushed her teeth, turned off the lights and climbed into bed.

Had he gone to his date’s house? His car wasn’t in his driveway when she got home. At least she wouldn’t have to sleep on one side of a wall where he was having sex with another woman.

When a few tears escaped her eyes, she turned into the pillow.

Goddamn son-of-a-bitch. Other more colorful words left Joe’s mouth as he drove away from Sheila’s house. He’d followed her home with thoughts of going to bed with her, but when she’d asked him inside, he couldn’t go with her.

He berated himself all the way home for being such a shit to Holly. When he pulled into her driveway, the clock on his dash told him it was one a.m. Her place was dark. Was she there or at Rossi’s? Damn it, he couldn’t stand the thought.

Whipping the door open and bolting out of the car, he marched to her porch. He didn’t care if Rossi was with her and if Joe interrupted something. He hoped he did. He lifted his hand to bang on the wood, but the door opened before he could.

He recoiled in response and she gasped.

Very carefully, he said, “Where were you going?”

She said simply, “To see if you were home yet.”

He stepped inside and she inched back, never unlocking their gaze. They stared at each other. Then she threw herself into his arms and he hiked her up so he could hug her tight.

The kiss they shared was hot and deep, full of residual anger, frustration, gratefulness and sexual intent. Joe took her mouth, bathed the inside with his tongue, nipped her lip and pressed his body into hers. She arched into him to get closer, ground her pelvis into his. His hands tensed on her bottom.

At some point, he leaned back. “We’re alone, right?”

“Yes.” She was already working the buttons of his shirt, her shaky hands fumbling with the buttons.

“Not here.” He headed to the master suite and when he carried her inside, he grinned when he saw her bed was nestled up to his, with the wall between them.

Letting her slide to the floor, he cupped her face. “Ah, Holly.”

Leaning into his hands, she closed her eyes and savored the sensation of his callused fingers against her skin. He reached for the hem of her gown and slipped it over her head. The light from the moon slivered through the slats of the blinds, and it wasn’t enough. Leaning over and around her, he switched on the bedside light. The bulb must have been set on low, but he could see her high, full breasts, the indentation at her waist. Curvy hips; even lovelier, what was between her legs. He cupped her there. “I’ve got to have you.”

She giggled. “I’m not very experienced, but I think we have to take our pants off first.”

He kissed her smart-mouth and tore at the rest of his clothes. When he was naked, he went for her again. She said, “Wait.”

His forehead met his. “If you want to stop, it’s okay. But you’re killin’ me here.”

“I don’t want to stop. But I have to tell you something first.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve done this before, but not in five years.”

His jaw dropped. “Oh, Holly. Why?”

“You know.”

“Because you got hurt?”

“At first. But when I moved past that, I couldn’t find anybody I could trust until Greg. He and I have only been dating six months so we haven’t been...together.” She blew the hair out of her eyes.

Five years! That was a long time to be celibate. Gently, he brushed his hand down her hair. “Then we should slow down.”

“I was afraid this would turn you off.”

He bumped against her. “Not at all. Primed and ready to pump. And it’ll get worse, because I’m going to touch the living daylights out of you.”

Now, he was killing her. She lay, spread out before him, and his hands roamed everywhere. “Close your eyes, love.”

She did. And the sensations intensified. He kneaded her breasts, too gently, laved her nipples too lightly and cupped her without enough pressure. The ministrations made the skin over her whole body tingle. She squirmed on the bed. “Joe. Please. This isn’t enough.”

“Got it.” He did everything all over again, only harder.

Soon, she was arching off the mattress. “I’m ready.”

“Do you have anything?”

“Condoms in the nightstand.”

“I meant gel.”

“That, too.”

Rummaging in her drawer, he decided to wait to ask her later about keeping those things in case. He held up a condom. “These aren’t five years old, are they?”

“Nope, up to date.”

He rolled one on, covered his finger with gel and slowly inserted it inside. She was tight so he administered more. Then he lay back and helped her straddle him. “It’ll be better if you control things, at least at first.”

She lifted her hips and, inch-by-inch, settled on him.

“This okay?”

“Great. No pain. I’m...stretched, though. You’re, um, big.”

That made his body jerk. “Careful what you say, girl.”

Laughing, she leaned over so she could kiss his pecs. “Big and really, really hard.”

His hands tightened on her hips. She straightened and began to move. Up and down, up and down. Suddenly her body took over, increased the tempo, the pressure. Spasms blasted through her, out of her. She climaxed fast and hard as she heard him cry out her name in his own, bucking release.

Holly lay in his arms, and Joe felt contented for the first time since...he couldn’t remember. Her hair, brushing his chin, smelled lemony and was a tumbled mess from his hands. She opened her beautiful blue eyes and looked over. They shone with so much emotion, for him, that he got choked up. To cover it, he kissed her nose. “Feel good?”

“In more ways than one.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sated from the pleasure.” She looked away, then back at him. “But I’ve been miserable since Tuesday. It’s only a couple of days, but I was really unhappy.”

Her innocent honesty brought forth his own. “Me too, honey.” He shook his head. “And as for our first tiff, if I’d known you didn’t know about your grandmother wanting to move, or your grandpa didn’t know she asked me, I would have checked with you before saying yes.”

“I came to that conclusion.”

“As for yesterday, I was being stupid about Francey. I should have talked to you about her. Like before.”

“And I shouldn’t have started the whole mess to begin with. I think part of it was I got scared of what might happen between us.”

He tipped her chin. “Thank you for telling me that.”

She ran a hand over his chest. “Should we talk about us or wait till the morning?”

“We don’t have to talk about us. We’re going to see each other, exclusively, and find out where this goes. No more dates with Rossi, or any other guy who decides he wants you.”

“You’re pretty macho, Lieutenant Santori.”

“I guess.”

“Then I suppose you should back your words up with some macho actions.”

He flipped her over fast. “You want macho, I’ll show you macho, babe.”

The next morning, Holly nestled against Joe’s chest. Quietly, so not to wake him, she inhaled the scents of him that hovered in the room. Thank you, God.

Today was Saturday. She usually awoke out of habit at six like on weekdays, but it seemed later than that. She glanced over and saw the reds dials on her nightstand proclaim it nine a.m. Wow! Even though they hadn’t gone to sleep until three, then awoke at five to make delicious love again, she was surprised by how long they’d slept in.

And since she didn’t know Joe’s schedule, she hoped he didn’t have to work today. Should she wake him just in case?

“Hmm.” He rubbed his hand up and down her arm. “’Morning, love.”

“Good morning.” She kissed his chest. “I hope you don’t have to work this morning.”

“Nah. My day shift was this week. I only went in for Thursday and Friday, but I’m off until the night shift later next week.”

“You firefighters with all that time off.” Her tone was sassy.

“Said the woman who’s about to go on summer vacation.”

“Touché. Want some breakfast?”

“In a minute.”

He tipped her chin and kissed her. She kissed him back, and was shocked to feel a slice of desire go through her. Almost at the same time she felt his erection against her hip. She fell further into the kiss, running her hand over his chest, and lower to his raw, hard length. Up and down. Up and down.

“Shit, Holly, don’t do that unless you’re going to go all the way with it.”

Though she hadn’t experienced much of oral sex, she suddenly wanted to. She told him so.

He closed his eyes. “I think I died and went to heaven.”

He threw the covers off and she slid down the bed. “You have to tell me if I’m doing this right.” She began to touch him.

“More friction...a little harder...now your mouth...pull, that...” He went off like a shot.

After, Holly came up to her knees, her hair sticking out all over and a glorious smile on her face. “How’d I do?”

He laughed. “You did great, sweetheart.”

“Whew!”

“Now, it’s your turn.”

Her eyes danced. “It is?”

“Yep. And I’m gonna make you come more than once.”

Afterward, they dozed and it was eleven before they dragged themselves out to the kitchen.

“I’ll make breakfast for you,” she said.

“Great. What can I do?”

She loved that he didn’t take for granted women doing things for him. “Nothing. I’m making French toast, and I have some fruit salad left from yesterday.”

He kissed her nose and sat at the table. She made him a Keurig coffee and set it in front of him. He sipped it, watching as she ground the beans, got the pot going, then removed the stuff from the refrigerator and set the skillet on the stove. “So, what does Holly Michaels do during the summer?”

“Take an in-service course to improve my teaching skills or base of knowledge. And plan for the following year.”

“I thought maybe you just lounged at the pool.”

Was that another knock?

“Kidding, Holly. What else?”

“I also do volunteer work.”

“Where?”

“Mondays at a soup kitchen and Thursdays at the downtown battered women’s shelter.”

“Ah. A good Samaritan.”

That sounded...snotty. Mellow, though, from the lovemaking, she ignored it. “Nah. I want to make the world a better place.”

“Teaching isn’t enough?”

At the stove, she looked over her shoulder, considering his question. “I guess not.”

“I always thought my service to humanity was firefighting.”

“Well, I don’t exactly run into burning buildings for a living. You could probably get away with that with the woman upstairs.”

He laughed at her feminist phrasing. Then, seriously, “Do you think that’s enough?”

Knowing she had to be honest, she shrugged. “You could consider some volunteering.”

At the counter next to the stove, she beat several eggs in a bowl, then cut thick slices of Italian bread and soaked them in the mixture. The pungent scent of coffee filled the room.

He asked, “Did you make plans for today?”

“The Memorial Art Gallery summer art show.”

“Art as in paintings?”

“Jewelry, too. Some woodworking. Other crafts.”

His brow furrowed. “Are you going with Rossi?”

“No, but after what happened between us last night, I decided to call him and ask to see him after the art show.”

“About not dating, right?”

She gave him a saucy, sideways look. “Yes.”

“Good girl.”

God, he was cute.

“What about your day?”

“Beach volleyball. I belong to this team of thirty-somethings that gets together every Saturday during the summer. We play a few tournaments in Rockford, and take some road trips out of the city.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“Want to join?”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t think so. Yoga and the weights I’m doing at the gym are plenty. Besides, it’ll be pleasant enough to walk every day now, so I’d rather be outside.”

“Volleyball’s outside.”

She turned on the burner to heat up under the skillet. “No, thanks.”

“Okay, want to come and watch?”

“Watch what?”

“Me play, I guess.”

Plopping her hands on her waist, she faced him. “Now if that isn’t a macho request.”

“You liked the macho me last night.”

“You know what I mean, Joe.”

His gaze darkened. “Maybe you’d better spell it out for me.”

“Do you think I’d want to watch you play with your buddies?”

“Not when you put it that way. Which is condescending. I don’t understand why the idea is so bad.”

“The girl...sitting on the sidelines to moon over the boy playing sports.... Not only is it sexist, but it sounds super boring.”

“I’d come see you play.”

She was getting impatient.

It must have showed on her face.

“Hey, never mind. Forget it.”

He got up, walked to the counter and poured some of the ground coffee into his cup. She went to him and slipped her arms around his waist, laid her head on his back. “Did we just have a tiff number three?”

“Well, I am irritated with you.”

She stiffened. “That makes us even. You’re being a baby about this.”

He broke her hold on him. “You know, I don’t think I’m hungry after all. Call me later if you want to do something.”

With that, he walked out through the garage door.

Holly stared after him. What had happened here? She and Greg never fought about stupid stuff like this. They never fought at all.

Joe drove into the Charlotte Beach parking lot and shut off the engine. The volleyball game was straight ahead, and people were already out there. In the last two hours, he’d worked up a head of steam about how snippy Holly got with him—especially after what they’d done in bed together not long before. First there had been that crack about volunteering, making him sound shallow. Damn it, he was a firefighter and put his life on the line for others every day. Then, she didn’t want to go to his game, which he didn’t understand. Most women he dated loved to come to these things and cheer him on. One had even gone to The Weight Room to watch him work out. Add that to their earlier tiffs—what the hell kind of word was that anyway?—he seriously wondered if Holly Michaels was the girl for him. Damn it. He bolted out of the car. Slamming the door, he walked out to the sand, the day dimmed by her reaction.

“Hey, Joey!” Pricilla, his friend—and occasional lover throughout the years—rushed over and launched herself at him. “Long time no see.” She kissed him on the lips.

He didn’t let her go. Even squeezed her butt. “Good to see you too, Cilla.”

“Ready?” the group coach called out. “Now that we have all our members here.”

Joe looked around. He was the last to arrive. “Sorry I’m late.”

They razzed him some about how he spent his morning—they thought of him as a playboy—then got down to business. The group divided into two teams, and they played seriously. Some high-fiving after a score, some dissing each other, but each person there was competitive.

When the game ended, they circled around the coach and got some pointers. Then they played two other games, getting even more guidance for future tournaments. Joe, of course, had starred.

She could have come here with him and seen it!

It was four by the time they finished. As usual, they headed to the Pelican’s Nest, a restaurant down the road on the beach. At his car, Cilla came up to him. “Can I ride with you? We haven’t seen each other in a while.”

“Sure. Get in.”

She chatted about the game and the plays all the way over. When they reached the restaurant, he said, “Go on in, Cilla. I need to make a call.”

She pouted. “Don’t leave,” she said in a whiny voice.

“I won’t.”

Anchoring an arm around his neck, she kissed his cheek and slid out of the car. He punched in Holly’s number. After three rings, he heard, “This is Holly. Leave a message.”

“Holly, it’s Joe. You didn’t call me all day so I gave in. Are we getting together tonight?” He hung up and headed into the bar where the team was hanging out.

“What’ll you have, Joe?” his buddy Wally asked when he reached them. “I was on the losing team.” Which treated to the first drink.

“A beer.” He leaned against the bar. “How you doing?”

“Great. You?”

“Hanging in there, I guess.”

“Something wrong?”

“I’m cranky.” When the beers came, they knocked glasses. “Can I ask you something personal?”

“Sure.”

“How come Joan doesn’t come to the games on Saturday anymore?”

“She got bored last year. I can see why it isn’t fun for her.”

“I can’t.”

He socked Joe’s arm. “Of course you can’t, Joey. Women fall at your feet and are grateful for any time with you. My wife almost busted a gut when I told her about Mindy going to the gym to watch you work out.”

Joe was dumbfounded. Suddenly, Holly’s feelings took on a different light. He drank his beer and socialized. In between, he checked his messages to see if she’d called. There were none. Damning her, he went back to his friends.

For the last few hours, Holly and Lizzie walked from stall to stall, commenting on the jewelry, the prices, the eclectic people who attended these things. She tried not to let Joe’s selfishness, his chauvinism, bother her and hadn’t even told Lizzie about their tiff.

“Oh, look, Holly,” Lizzie called out walking toward another vendor.

She held up a quilt. On it were a fire hydrant, crossed axes, a helmet, a truck and various other icons of firefighting. The lovely throw was rust-colored with a taupe border.

“It’s absolutely beautiful.” She ran her fingers over the soft fabric. “Is it down?”

“Yes, it is.” The woman behind the table had come up to them.

“This is very unusual.”

“I’ve made lots of them, especially for my husband’s colleagues.”

Lizzie was the nosy one. “Why?”

“My husband’s a firefighter in the city.”

Lizzie nudged Holly. When she said nothing, Lizzie blurted out, “Holly’s close friends with one of the city guys.”

“Yeah, who?”

“Joe Santori.”

The woman’s expression turned indulgent. “We know Joey. He used to be on Ed’s crew. Tell him Ed Knight’s wife Cindy said hello.”

“I will.” Holly fingered the quilt. What a special gift this would make. It happened to match the colors in Joe’s living room. And it was made by his former officer’s wife. She wondered when Joe’s birthday was.

Not getting this work of art because of the silly fight they’d had was stupid, so she said to the woman, “I’d like to purchase the throw, Cindy.”