CHAPTER FIVE

Margo

 

“Hi,” he said, sitting down.

Now, with me just twenty inches away across the table he seemed suddenly nervous.

“You had a good day?”

“So far, yes,” I said mildly. Dammit. Why could I not think straight around him? All I could think of, sitting this close, breathing the scent of him, was how much I longed for him. My body was on high alert, every nerve tingling. I felt as if I could feel his warmth on the air and every part of me was straining to feel him.

“Good,” he said. His voice wobbled a little, as if he, too, was nervous. “Me too.”

“Good,” I said.

We sat looking at each other after that.

I reached for something to say but couldn’t think of anything sensible. I sighed.

“You’re living here?” Jay asked, forestalling my attempt to converse.

I giggled. “Yes. Still here.” I grinned. “Where else? I work here.”

“Oh.” He looked embarrassed. Then he grinned. “I guess that was a dumb question, hey?”

I smiled. “No, not really. I might just be visiting family.”

He nodded. “I guess.”

I paused. “Is that why you’re here?” I asked carefully.

“Yes.” He looked at his hands. They rested on the table, fingers long and corded with muscle. I recalled the way those fingers felt when they brushed down my skin with a shiver of delight.

“Well, I hope it’s a nice visit,” I added.

“It has been,” he said. He was looking at me intently and I felt a flush rise up into my face. His blue eyes held my gaze. Looking into those eyes, the way they held mine, smoldering and hot, made the whole attempt at conversation seem ridiculously silly. Why were we sitting here, polite and awkward, when we both clearly wanted something different? Or at least, I thought, feeling my clit throbbing in my panties, I wanted something else.

“Um…are you here long?” I said.

“No. Just a week.”

“That’s not long.”

“No.”

We were floundering desperately in the aftermath, trying to think of something else to say, when we were rescued by the waiter.

“Ready to order?”

“Cappuccino.”

“Regular drip coffee.”

We both gave our orders and the waiter grinned and wrote them down, then withdrew. I was surprised by how automatically we both spoke, both ordering what we always did.

“Still only regular?”

He grinned. It was the first time, since I’d seen him in the airport, that he had given that boyish smile I recalled so well.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Still my favorite.”

“Only because you never try anything different,” I teased. It was an old argument.

“Well, I have strong tastes,” he said. Again, his eyes locked on me.

I shifted where I sat, heat flooding my body. Under the table, I became aware of his knee.

“Well?” I asked, not sure whether I should move my leg or let the slight contact continue. My whole body screamed for the second choice of course. I thought it was prudent to move a bit.

“Well, what?” he said, sounding as if he was trying hard to swallow something big.

“Well, if you don’t try anything else, how will you know those strong tastes wouldn’t settle on something else?” I asked.

He looked into my eyes. The waiter appeared with our coffee, but I barely noticed as he left.

“Well, I know what I like,” he said softly. “And unlike some, I never change my mind.”

I felt his words shudder through me like a drumbeat shudders through wood. I throbbed and ached with the sweetness of his voice, my body turning into a melted mess.

“But, Jay?”

“Yes?”

“What do you mean, change their minds?” Is that what he’d thought? That I’d changed my mind about him? I stared at him.

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he lifted his coffee. “Mm. Still my favorite.”

I swallowed hard and turned my attention fiercely to my own coffee. I lifted it and drank. I pulled a face and added sweetener.

He laughed. “Still a sweet tooth?”

“I can’t handle plain coffee,” I admitted. “It’s so bitter.”

He chuckled. “You haven’t changed.”

“Nor have you.”

Our eyes met and held. He looked at me with such surprise and tenderness that my heart thudded painfully. Then, just as his lips parted and his leg stroked mine, he looked down.

“Are you going away this year?” he asked.

I frowned. The abrupt change of subject hurt me. Why was he suddenly so formal?

“I might,” I said lightly. “Depends on this next interview, I guess.”

“Oh?” His eyes met mine, alert again.

What is your problem? I wanted to shout at him. Why are you so changeable all of a sudden?

“I’m interviewing for another contract. With Realtone.”

“Oh?” He frowned.

I felt some professional pride. If I could move from my current job to Realtone, it would be a great move career-wise. I’d worked with Petals for a few years, and I was fairly certain they’d be changing their brand soon. I should find a new place, and as the face of the up-and-coming new brand…

“Well, it’ll be good,” I said carefully, “if they take me on.”

“I’m sure they will,” he said quickly. “You’re good, Margo.”

“Thanks,” I said.

Again, that mix of intimacy and indifference was scaring me. What was I supposed to believe? On the one side, he was acting like we were the best of friends, and on the other like we’d just met under awkward circumstances and had nothing to discuss together. It was difficult and disconcerting.

Make up your mind. “Jay?” I asked.

“Yeah?” He took another sip of coffee, a look or caution on his face.

“Listen, there’s something I want to ask you.” I sounded terse, even to my own ears.

“What?”

There was that guarded look again. He was shifting uncomfortably in his seat as if my asking him a question was the most painful thing that could happen to him. He looked down at his hands and I instantly felt bad.

“I was wondering…well…never mind,” I said quickly. I swallowed hard. This was painful. We were supposed to care about each other. Where had he gone all those years? And why? But all the same, I couldn’t start bombarding the guy with questions now. Slowly. Go slowly. I recalled the words.

“What?” he asked gently. “I’m sorry, Margo. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. I’m just, well…I guess I’m a bit rusty with this conversation thing. I’m sorry,” he said again. His blue eyes met mine and instead of guarded, they looked a little desperate. He smiled at me, a distracted half-smile.

“Well…it’s okay.” I said. “I’m okay. Nothing to be sorry about.” I sniffed. Dammit, I shouldn’t let this guy affect me like this! I let my fingernails dig into my palm, not wanting him to see that he was affecting me. I wasn’t going to open up if he wasn’t going to open up to me—it wouldn’t be fair.

“What did you want to ask?” he asked gently.

“I guess I just wondered what you’re up to,” I said lightly. Slow. Take it slow. For once, I was listening to my friend.

He smiled. “Well, that might surprise you.”

“It might,” I agreed.

“I went to college,” he said. He looked shy and proud. I smiled.

“Wow! That’s great,” I encouraged. “What did you study?”

“Well, I’m a sports nutritionist now. I did sports science.”

“Awesome.” I was proud of him. He wouldn’t have dreamed of a career outside football when I first met him. And now he had one.

“Well, I guess you saw,” he said shyly. He was still looking down at his hands, his cheeks red, voice level. “On the webpage, I mean.”

“Yeah.” I nodded.

We sat quietly for a while.

Inside, I was wondering what to say. I had no idea. I mean, after almost four years apart, how did one even begin to start rebuilding bridges? I felt at once as if we’d never been apart and as if the past years were an impossible gulf. The years of silence were like one of those lake things around an old castle—wide, impenetrable, shutting me out.

“Margo?”

I blinked. Hearing my name on his lips made my heart flip over just like it always did.

“I’m so glad you reached out.”

I sighed. His words melted my heart. I let out a long shuddering breath and felt a strange sensation in my tummy as if it had turned into melted candy. I looked at him and felt all the love I’d kept buried in my heart for the last four years suddenly come to the surface like sap in trees at springtime.

“Of course I did,” I said softly.

“Of course?” He frowned.

“Well…”

“Will you take anything else?” the waiter asked, appearing to take our coffee cups, which were empty.

“No, thank you,” I murmured.

“No.”

When he’d gone, we just sat and looked at each other.

Jay sighed. “I guess I should go.”

“I guess,” I said softly.

He moved back, the chair grating softly on the floor.

I sighed and stood.

“See you soon?” I couldn’t help asking as I watched him stand, his hand leaning on the chair as he reached for his coat, shrugging into it carefully while balancing with one hand on the tabletop.

“I hope so,” he said.

His eyes met mine and again, I felt that spark leap between us.

Then he reached down for his crutches and leaned on them. He swung slowly out toward the door.

“See you,” he said to me softly.

“See you,” I replied.

He stood back for me in the doorway and, swallowing hard, I walked out. I heard him follow me down the sidewalk, crutches clicking and grating.

When I reached my car, I sat down behind the wheel and leaned my head on it, my eyes, when I looked up, blind with sudden tears.

I was about to drive away when I heard someone thump on the window. I stared.

“Margo?” It was Jay. “Wait.”

I sighed and opened the door, letting him in.

“Margo?” he said again hesitantly. “I know that maybe you don’t…”

I stared at him. “Jay, don’t be silly,” I said.

He leaned forward, confused, and I couldn’t have actually said if he kissed me or I kissed him. His tongue thrust between my lips and I parted them gently, letting him probe my mouth.

I gasped with pleasure as he leaned back, smiling at me uncertainly.

“Margo…” he sighed. “I guess you need to work?”

“I do,” she said. “But there’s no hurry. My next event is at seven. That gives us…what? A few hours?”

He breathed out. “Margo…”

“Come on,” I said impulsively. “I know somewhere where no one will see us.”

My heart thumping in my chest, amazed at my own audacity, I sent the car into traffic, heading for a secluded spot I knew of on the bay. It was not quite dark, but I was fairly certain no one would disturb us. And this was not something I could back out of.

My body would never forgive me if I did. I needed him.