Blame it on Cupid (35 page)

Instead she grabbed a towel and hustled out. She couldn't ignore the call; she was overdue a return call from both her dad and Lucy. She grabbed the closest receiver, still dripping wet. It was Jack.

His voice rolled over her nerves like velvet on a shiver.

“I haven't been able to catch up with you for love or money,” he said. “Cooper and Kevin are back with their mother, so I'm finally free, but I'm guessing you're likely tied up with Charlene—”

“Actually, Charlie's at the library until nine. Her history teacher set the kids up with this terrific project. He's teaching them how to research from a variety of sources, by setting up this treasure hunt kind of thing—” Sheesh, what was wrong with her? Her heart was hanging out like drool just to hear his voice, and here she was, soaking wet and shivering and babbling on like a goose. “Anyway, I don't have to pick her up until nine.”

“So…you might have time for a drink? Like over at Wiley's?”

“A drink?”

“Yeah. I was thinking it'd be nice to talk somewhere there weren't kids. Somewhere there weren't interruptions. And I really want to tell you about my conversation with Cooper. You won't believe it.”

He wanted to talk about kids, she thought. Not them. Even so…she was determined to stop running away from the chance of being hurt—or of lying. And the truth, very much, was that she wanted to see Jack—for any reason.

She called Charlene on the cell so Charlene would know where to reach her, then dug into her makeup bag. There wasn't dust on it from lack of use, but it came close.

She wasn't about to waste too much time—not when it was already seven. But it only took a few seconds to pull on a loose red sweater that skimmed her shoulders, and jeans with heels, then to swish on some mascara and eyeshadow and a splash of bar-red lip gloss.

After a cooped-up day of worry and hand wringing about June Innes, it felt good to get out in the air, breathe in something different, think something different. Walking into Wiley's was even better. Maybe it was a neighborhood bar, but it wasn't all plump guys with beer bellies glooming on the ESPN screen. With half the world divorced these days, it was clearly a neighborhood place for singles to have an easy conversation. Nothing fancy, but the décor was definitely comfortable—knotted pine walls, plank floor, the ceiling decorated in cartoons and jokes, fat blue cushions in the booths.

Three men glanced up when she walked in, looked her over in a way she'd almost forgotten. She used to do this all the time, but now it seemed like a lifetime since she'd played the game—met a guy for a drink. Indulged in some grown-up flirting. Looked forward to laughing and light conversation and just an excuse to let some chemistry loose on a guy.

Normally she wouldn't have minded the looks of appreciation, either, but not this time. She searched the crowd for Jack. He was the only one she wanted to vent any chemistry on.

She spotted him in a booth by the far window. He was on his feet before she could reach him. There was a snap in his eyes, a kindling when he looked her over. Her heart felt the heady kick. He liked how she looked, was seeing her differently away from a kitchen and a suburban yard.

She'd wanted him to. Needed him to.

“We've had the hardest time getting together,” he said wryly. The barkeep ambled over; Jack sprang for a Pinot Noir for her, a draft for himself.

“It's been crazy at our house, too. And today was the worst.”

“What happened?”

“The guardian
ad litem
made an impromptu visit this morning. She reports to the judge this Friday. I know she's going to contest my guardianship.”

“
What?
That's ridiculous! Is the woman really that stupid?”

Jack's disbelief was like salve for a burn—damn, but she'd needed to hear someone believed in her! And especially Jack. Still, as much as she wanted to tell him the whole story—and scoop up all the sympathy he was willing to give her—it just wasn't the time or the place. She didn't want time with Jack to always be about her or her issues. “I'll tell you more, but just not now. I've worried about it so much my mind's shut down. I honestly need to put it aside for a few hours so I can think about it fresh tomorrow.”

“If you want my help, or if there's something I can do—”

“I know, Jack.” She
did
know he'd help. Jack was the only one who didn't see himself as a hero. “And I may ask you. But for right now…I'd really like to hear what happened when you talked to Cooper.”

He hesitated, clearly concerned about the guardian problem, but then he seemed to honor what she'd asked—which was true enough. Right now all she was bringing to the guardian problem was a sick sense of worry and ten tons of anxiety.

He chugged a few slugs of his draft, and she leveled the Pinot Noir as he spilled the Cooper story. “You told me to be careful, talking to him. That it was a sensitive problem. So thankfully I was prepared, Merry, but damn it, that little hussy really broke his heart.”

She knew.

“I'd like to take her apart with my bare hands. Obviously you can't save your kids from the hurts that come from growing up. First loves. Rejections. All that. But, Kicker—hell, he was born loving girls, playing them, being played. He likes everything about the game. Somewhere in there he's got deeper feelings, but overall, what you see is what you get. Where Cooper…”

“Coop is deep waters all the way,” Merry murmured.

“Yeah. He doesn't open up at all unless he feels safe, really trusts. So that little…”

“Bitch?”

“I wasn't going to call a fifteen-year-old girl a bitch,” Jack assured her.

“Well, in this case the shoe fits. She used and abused him. She knew what she was doing.”

“No fifteen-year-old kid knows what they're doing.” He suddenly frowned, and when Merry turned around to see what he was frowning at, she saw a woman walking toward them.

She recognized the woman as a neighbor—the one with the house on the west corner, someone she'd seen at the grocer and library and line at the movies. Clearly the woman was stopping to see Jack, because he got a buss on the cheek and a cuff on the neck.

“Hey, stranger, way too long since we had a drink. Hi,” she said to Merry, and extended a hand.

The conversation didn't last more than a couple minutes before the woman—Nancy Riker—wandered back to her own table, where she was jammed in with a group of friends. But the short exchange was long enough for Jack to look uncomfortable.

“Sorry about that,” he said.

“No reason to be. I could see what was what,” Merry said gently, but Jack only looked more awkward.

“She's a nice person,” he began.

To help him climb off the hot seat, she filled in, “I'd guess…she was devastated right after a divorce. You did some consoling. You made it clear this wasn't a relationship thing, which wasn't what either of you wanted. So you clicked together a few times and parted ways, no hard feelings.” At his astonished expression, she chuckled.

“Someone told you?”

“No. Who would be telling me something like that? It was just…looking at her. And you. She's pretty. And seems genuinely nice. And she greeted you in a way that there'd obviously been something going on sometime, but also…she wasn't hurt. Wasn't worried that you were.”

“You got all that out of a one-minute conversation?”

“And maybe a teensy bit more.”

“What?”

She finished her last sip of wine. It was one thing, to know in her heart that she needed to quit running, and another to take some real chances with Jack that could be darn tricky. “I suspect she's the kind of woman you hone in on pretty often. I don't mean about her being someone newly divorced when you hooked up. But that you tend to leave relationships with both sides happy. Play the game fair. But also…”

“Also what?”

“Also…you only look for women who don't want a permanent hook up. Who won't have that expectation.”

“Why would you say that? Where'd you get it?”

She hesitated. “I don't know. Am I wrong?”

“I didn't say you were wrong. But—”

“I think I got it from your boys, Jack. Kicker wants to be just like you—or like he thinks you are. Free. All about a good time. But, Cooper…he's never said it in exact words, but he seems to want the opposite. He doesn't want to play the game, date, all that. He just wants to find a girl to spend the rest of his life with. He hungers…to be with someone.” She hesitated again. “Unlike Kicker, I think Cooper sees your loneliness.”

“Me. Lonely?” He looked astonished. “I don't know why Cooper would think that. I've got all kinds of friends. The boys. Good neighbors. Friends at work, work I love…”

Merry thought, for darn sure this wasn't how she'd seen the evening going with Jack. But having started down this side road, she figured she might as well face the road signs she'd failed to before. “She really did a number on you, didn't she?”

“Who?” Jack said, with a look on his face that clearly expressed how ditzy he thought she was being.

“Your ex-wife,” she said gently.

“Hell. My divorce was ages ago.”

“I understand. But I think…” She groped to find the right words. “When my mom left me, I was Charlene's age. When you're a kid, you just count on your parents as unconditionally loving you. I counted on mattering to her. It never crossed my mind that I wasn't important enough in her life that she could just walk out and really not look back.”

“I hate to believe it was that easy for her,” Jack said, but she could see something in his eyes. A sharp connection to what she was saying.

“She claims it was hard, that she felt a lot of guilt. And maybe she did. But
my
reality was still that she pretty much left me bleeding—” Merry took a breath “—the same as your ex-wife left you.”

“It's not the same thing.”

“No, of course it isn't—because you weren't a child. Adults know better than to expect unconditional love from each other. But doesn't everybody want to believe they're irreplaceable? At least to someone? And maybe we're not. But it stings like a knife when we find that out for sure…oh,
damn.
” She'd been looking at Jack, not her watch or the far clock on the wall. But a loud burst of laughter from another booth made her glance up, and abruptly she realized it was twenty to nine. If she didn't leave this minute, she'd be late picking up Charlene, and she'd gotten phobic about being late, afraid Charlene would worry that she'd been forgotten.

Jack had already paid for the drinks, but when she stood up, he bolted to his feet as well. The way he looked at her, she doubted he'd noticed the clock or other people any more than she had. His eyes met hers with an intensity that buttered her heart.

“I
have
to go,” she said, “but darn it, Jack. I've wanted to tell you for a while that I understood.”

“That you understood what?”

She shook her head, wildly, fast, tucked her purse strap on her shoulder and leaned up. Even with only seconds to spare, she closed her eyes before kissing him. It wasn't a bar come-on kiss. It was an I-love-you-and-don't-care-if-the-whole-world-knows-it kind of kiss. Just a tilt of the head. A brush of the lips. An emotion that took flight before it ever turned into a promise.

“That I understood that you weren't going to love me,” she murmured. It was probably the only way she could manage to do this—to say what needed saying. In a public place. Where the kids were nowhere around, and all their clothes were on. And where she was in such a hurry that she wouldn't risk getting embarrassingly emotional.

When he didn't immediately contradict her, she gulped back the sharp feeling of loss. “It's all right, Jack. I'm glad we're friends. I'm glad we live next door. But I get it completely, why you weren't looking for more from me. I was hoping for more, I admit it. But that's only because I find you so impossibly easy to love that I couldn't help dipping in those waters, you know? Not because I was looking to be a pain.”

She shot him a humorous smile—or a smile that she hoped looked honest and humorous—and then flew.

In less than two hours, the dusky evening had turned into a glowering night, with clouds fisting overhead and thunder moaning in the west. She could taste the rain in the air, feel the close humidity. The temperature was warmer—crazy warm compared to the first of March in Minnesota—and suddenly she missed home so much she could hardly see.

Or maybe that was tears blinding her vision. Darn it, she'd said what she needed to say, hadn't she? She hadn't run from it. Maybe she hoped he'd contradict her, hoped he'd claimed to have fallen madly in love, that he'd finally found someone who was irreplaceable in his life, namely her. But that was such fairy-tale thinking that she'd never expected it, and she'd tried to be frank so he'd know she wasn't the naïve cock-eyed ditz he'd first thought her.