Love's Last Chance (10 page)

Dorrie shook her head.
And watch you bump
and grind with every girl in the joint? I don’t think so.

“You’re the best dancer in the group.” He
held out his hand.

“Ya think?”

Johnny took her hand. “Come on. You didn’t
come here to be gloomy and alone. You came to have fun. No
sulking.”

“We’ve got to talk.”

“Not tonight. Tonight is…hell, it’s
T.G.I.F
.
, ya know?”

She stood. “Yeah, I know.”

“How about we make a date to meet here
tomorrow night, say ten?”

“Perfect. The house will be rocking.”

“Until then, can we put all this shit aside
and just have a good time?”

“Guess so.”

The rhythm of a favorite song drifted toward
them as they descended the stairs. Johnny went first then lifted
her down the steep last two steps. She fell against his chest,
where he held her until he recovered his footing.

“Damn stairs,” he mumbled.

His body was warm, chasing away the chill
making her shiver a moment ago. She longed to stay in his arms,
maybe forever. He smelled of a fresh shower, soap, and a slight
aroma of beer. He stroked her hair as his mouth lowered to hers.
The beat of the music seeped into her blood, along with runaway
desire, unleashed by his lips.
John Flanagan can still
kiss.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders as his
hand slipped down to squeeze her behind. His tongue gained entrance
almost immediately and danced with hers. His fingers glided up to
her hips and slowly eased them away from his.

“If we don’t stop…”he said, pausing to catch
his breath.

“Yeah.” She stepped back half a step, but
still the heat from him warmed her. He reached out and cupped her
cheek. Alarm bells went off in her head.
Don’t! Don’t be tender
with me. Don’t. I can’t fight that. That’s what happened before. I
can’t, I can’t.
She eased his hand down off her face and moved
toward the path. He followed behind.

Mary, Maureen, and Alice were waiting on the
steps when they arrived.

“Where the hell have you been? Doing it on
the beach?”

Dorrie rolled her eyes at John as he opened
the door. “Calm down, Mary. We’re back.”

“Dance with me, Johnny.”

“Sure, sure. Just let me get a beer.”

“I’m next,” Maureen, a redhead from next
door, piped up.

“Take a number, ladies. The night is young,”
Johnny chuckled as he followed Dorrie inside.

Exactly what I was afraid of. Damn.

The screen door slammed shut and the steps
were again unoccupied.

* * * *

The day usually started a bit overcast at
six o’clock on Fire Island. But the clouds burned off by nine,
leaving a brilliant, burning heat and clear, blue skies. Saturday
was a typical day, beckoning the sun-worshipers and body surfers to
the beach with a cool breeze early in the day.

Johnny was the first one up in his house. He
put up a pot of coffee then took a cup with him as he ventured out
into the fresh morning air. The sun was up and already growing
fierce, forcing him to don a baseball cap. He strolled aimlessly,
he thought, unaware his feet had decided he needed to be at
Dorrie’s house.

She sat on the stoop, sipping from a mug.
One slender, graceful hand rested on her knee. The sun caught some
copper strands in her hair, making them glow. Her Cupid’s bow lips
were stained a subtle pink to match the slight blush in her
cheeks.

God, she’s gorgeous. The sun on her
hair…the prettiest combination of brown and reddish gold I’ve ever
seen.
Her green eyes, so light as to be almost translucent were
hidden behind big sunglasses with tortoiseshell frames.
She
looks every inch the movie star.
His heart rate quickened as he
approached.
Is she going to bite my head off today or kiss me
like she did last night? Smokin’.

“Good morning,” he whispered, barely loud
enough for her to hear.

Her head popped up. “Oh! Morning. Didn’t
hear you coming.”

“Sand. Muffles the sound.”

“Hung over?”

“Don’t drink that much anymore.”

“I remember the days when you could put away
fifteen in a night.”

He chuckled. “Beer or women?”

“Not funny.”

“I thought it was,” he said. “Those days are
long gone. I’m a serious businessman now. Can’t be hung over all
the time and be successful, too.”

“This isn’t all the time. It’s Fire Island
weekend.”

“Out of the habit, I guess.” He lowered
himself onto the step next to her.

“Yeah? Me, too. Too much physical activity.
I can’t be wasted all the time.”

I’d love to have some physical activity with
her. Her skinny dancer’s body has changed. Love to get my hands on
her. Best lover ever, even thin.

His glance rested on her chest, and his
pulse kicked up. His fingers itched to close around those inviting
mounds.

“You’re beautiful,” slipped quietly out of
his mouth. But she heard him.

“What?”

Heat seeped into his cheeks.
Big mouth.
You’re staring at her rack and coming on to her. You’ll lose any
chance you have.

“Nothing.”

She straightened in her chair. “It wasn’t
nothing. Did you say…beautiful? She blushed. “Oh my God, did I just
say that?”

“Yeah.”
Caught. Fess up.
“You’re even
more beautiful now than when you were dancing. Didn’t think that
was possible.”

She smiled warmly at him, and he knew he’d
made the right choice to opt for honesty. Pierre from the men’s
house walked up the path and stopped in front of the house. His
gaze roamed salaciously over Dorrie’s body before he spoke.

“Dorrie. Sexier than ever,” he leered.

She raised her hand in greeting, but the
frown never left her lips.

“Have you seen the schedule for today?” he
asked, ignoring her cold shoulder.

“Schedule? Crap! I thought this was supposed
to be a relaxing weekend.”

“You know Drake. Always had a schedule. No
one ever paid attention,” John said.

“Let’s see if I can remember?” Pierre sat
down, uninvited, on the other side of Dorrie and draped his arm
around her shoulders. “Uh, volleyball at eleven, lunch at noon,
body surfing at one, more volleyball at three…cocktails—my favorite
part—at four thirty.”

Dorrie shrugged him off her. Johnny threw a
sharp warning glance at Pierre, who raised his hands in defense.
“Okay, okay.”

She inched away from Pierre and closer to
him.

“Hey, I don’t bite.”

“Leave her alone, Pierre. I’ve told you this
before…” He slipped his arm around her waist.

“Yeah, at the nude beach. Hey, if you’re
gonna be there, people are gonna look.”

“There’s looking, and there’s staring till
you make someone uncomfortable.”

“Stop it! Pierre, you’re in my space. Move
over.” She gave him a shove. He stood up and brushed the sand off
his butt.

“I’m going. You’re the coldest bitch in this
place, ya know?”

Johnny jumped to his feet. He grabbed
Pierre’s T-shirt and fisted it, drawing the smaller man right up to
his face. “You ever call her that again, and I’ll punch your lights
out.”
Little prick. For two cents, I’d deck you anyway.

“Okay, okay. Got it.” He shot a sullen look
at John and pushed away. Johnny let go and sat back down next to
Dorrie. Pierre slinked away, heading back toward the other
house.

“Be on my team?” he asked Dorrie.

“What team?”

“Volleyball, of course.”

“We were undefeated all summer.” She
grinned. “The tigers, I think. Right?”

“Yeah, yeah. The tigers. You’re on. Are all
our teammates here?” She tossed her hair over her shoulder.

“Let’s see, Stan, Bella, you and me…I think
so.”
Are you going to let me run my fingers through that
mop?

“Did we have an alternate?”

“Mary.”

“Ugh!” She frowned.

“She was on the team.”

“Okay, okay.”

“Don’t be jealous. She’s no competition for
you.”
Nobody’s competition for you, honey.

“Jealous of Mary? You’ve got to be kidding.
Where’s the ball? We should practice. It’s been a long time since
any of us played.” Dorrie pushed to her feet.

“It’s at our house. I’ll get it and meet you
on the beach?”

“Right.”

Dorrie offered him her hand and after he
stood up, he kept hold of it, pulling her into his arms. She didn’t
resist. He kissed her neck, his fingers steadying her around her
waist. She burrowed her face into his shoulder and sighed. So he
continued.

“Who’s making all the noise…” The door
opened, and Mary appeared. “I should have known. Get a room.”

Johnny and Dorrie slowly separated. He
glared at Mary.

“What? Like you don’t do that enough with
every girl here. Give it a rest, John.”

He sensed a chill from Dorrie at Mary’s
words.
Shut up, Mary.
Dorrie glanced at him briefly before
she disappeared inside. John gave Mary a curt nod then retreated
down the path back to his house.
I’m not that guy anymore. Why
won’t Dorrie believe me?

With half an hour to warm up, the tigers
were champing at the bit, ready to take on any opponents. Johnny
and Stan played net while Bella and Dorrie played base line.
Setting up the ball to Johnny came back to her as if they had
played yesterday, not five years ago.

She was feeling good, better than she had in
a long time. The familiar surroundings, old friends, and the
healing power of the sea combined to soothe her raw nerves. She had
had a lot on her mind, especially being hired to choreograph the
movie. Although she wouldn’t admit it, Dorrie was scared to death
she couldn’t do it well.
Hustle and Dance
was slated to be a
major film. The dancing had to be flawless.

Would she get it right? Would the routines
be faithful to the show, but fresh at the same time? Did she have
the stamina to face day after day of rigorous physical activity?
Though she had spent three years building up her strength,
especially in her ankle, could it last through a demanding job
continuing for several months?

She didn’t have the answers, and worried
because she’d already seen small signs of weakness. After long
walks, her ankle would ache for an hour or two. Certain dance
positions aggravated it more than others. This would be the
challenge of a lifetime.

She put aside her concerns, refusing to let
them cloud the beauty of Fire Island or the warmth of her buddies.
For now, her mind was clear, her smile genuine. Dorrie wasn’t
paying attention. She ignored warning bells in her head about
jumping and running on the uneven sand. So far so good, she was
fine.

The score was tigers eight, panthers five.
The players took a break to cool off in the ocean. Everyone ran in,
but Dorrie stopped at the water’s edge.

“Come on, come on,” Johnny called.

Still, she hesitated, hanging back after
dipping her toe into the chilly water. Johnny made a face and ran
up to her “If Mohammed isn’t going to come to the mountain…,” he
mumbled as he picked her up.

She began to scream and kick. In a moment,
her cries had morphed into a high-pitched giggle. Overcome with
laughter, she struggled in vain as Johnny held her fast. He threw
her into an oncoming wave then dove in after her.

Dorrie closed her mouth just in time to
avoid filling it with salt water and sand. She swam underwater,
bobbing up a few feet away. Johnny came to the surface shortly
after. She splashed him, and he lunged at her, pushing her under
along with him. They came up laughing. He slung his arm around her
waist and pulled her to him for a kiss. His mouth was rough, like
the sea, his lips cold and salty.

On land, Stan motioned for them to return.
They waded out of the water, cooled down and dripping, to resume
their game. Johnny ran ahead, leaving Dorrie to walk up alone. His
personality, his presence took up all the space around her,
surrounding her. When he left, it was as if all the oxygen had been
sucked out of the air.

As the match continued, the tigers increased
their lead. By twelve-thirty, they had won. Lots of war whoops were
joined by high fives and leaps into the air. That’s when it
happened. Dorrie landed on the wrong leg, her weak ankle unable to
support her weight coming down hard and on a slant. The foot folded
and something pulled. Pain shot up her leg. She collapsed in the
sand and lay there, crying softly, clutching her leg. Johnny ran to
her.

“What happened? What’s wrong?”

Dorrie couldn’t speak as pain stole her
breath. She pointed. He picked her up and ran into the sea where he
lowered her ankle into the cold water. Together they sat down,
keeping her immersed as the surf washed over them waist-high.

The low temperature numbed her, reducing the
pain. Dorrie rubbed it.

“My bandage.”

“You have an
Ace
bandage?”

She nodded. “In the house.”

Johnny was up in a flash and heading toward
the walkway.

“How convenient. Getting hurt so you can
have John Flanagan all to yourself.”

“You’re an idiot, Mary.” Dorrie grimaced,
trying to ignore her housemate.

Mary shifted her weight, sticking out her
lower lip in an ugly pout. “Here he comes now. Your puppy dog,
doing your bidding. I didn’t know you could be so sneaky.” Mary
dropped her comment like a bomb and eased away. Dorrie paid no
attention.

Johnny arrived with the bandage. He cleaned
the sand from her skin with his hand before she fastened the brace.
Then, he picked her up and carried her back to the house.

“This isn’t necessary. I can walk, at least
limp.”

“Nonsense. You need ice and shouldn’t be
walking on the sand.”