I Waxed My Legs for This? (6 page)

“I’ve got the tickets,” Carrie called, joining Jack in the snack line.

“Good. I can’t wait to see
Blood and Death
,” Jack said, his eyes gleaming with a very predatory look.

“Ah, Jack, it was my turn to pick the movie.”

“Was not, you had me watching that sniff and cry-fest two weeks ago on television.”

“But, that didn’t count. We didn’t go out to see it. The last time we went out to see a movie we saw one of yours.”

“I can’t remember the last time we went out to a movie,” he said.

“Well, I can and I remember it was one of yours, so this was my pick.”

They took a step forward in the line.

“So what are we watching?” he asked.

Carrie held the tickets out to him. “We’re going to see that one about the three sisters’ wedding.”

“Not a comedy. Come on, Carrie. I need blood and guts.”

“I think the one sister gets in an accident, so there might be some blood.”

“I’m not talking a nosebleed, I’m talking semiautomatic weapons and explosions. Sweat and testosterone, Carrie. That’s what a real man wants to see in a movie.”

She shook her head. “Well, next time the pick will be yours and I’ll bear the sweat and testosterone. But for tonight, we’re watching something that will make us laugh and make us cry.”

“Real men don’t cry,” Jack assured her.

Carrie just smiled serenely. She knew the truth about Jack Templeton, though it wouldn’t do to admit it. He was man enough not to want his flaws thrown in his face. Carrie didn’t see them as flaws, though. The fact that he’d be the one sniffing, not her, was decidedly cute.

Not that he’d see it that way.

“Well, then you have nothing to worry about,” she said. “You can do the laughing and I’ll do the crying.”

“Can I help you?” the girl at the snack counter asked.

“We need a big bucket of popcorn...lots of butter. A large cola and I’d like a box of licorice, please.” Carrie finished her order and looked at Jack expectantly.

“Jujyfruits, too,” he said right on cue.

The girl turned to gather their order and Carrie reached over and squeezed Jack’s hand.

“What was that for?” he asked.

She smiled and thought about Ted, who didn’t know how to order movie food any more than he knew how to order the right restaurant food.

“Just because,” she said.

One hour and forty-seven minutes later—popcorn, soda, Jujyfruits and licorice duly consumed— Jack and Carrie walked out of the theater.

“So, it was better than blood and guts, wasn’t it?” Carrie asked.

Jack sniffed. It was a suspicious sound he’d been making for the last half hour. “No,” he said gruffly.

“Liar.”

“Am not. I like he-man macho films,” Jack assured her.

“Oh, I’m sure you do. It’s just that you don’t hate funny, sentimental films as much as you’d like the world to believe.”

“You’re pushing it, Carrie,” Jack said, all sniffing seemed a faint memory.

“Oh, I’m so scared,” she taunted. She took off down the boardwalk that led to the beach.

“You should be,” Jack bellowed as he gave chase.

“You can’t catch me,” she hollered over her shoulder.

There was no reply, which made Carrie nervous. A blustering Jack she was used to, but a silent one—that was dangerous. She glanced over her shoulder just as Jack scooped her up.

“Jack,” she shrieked.

“When you live dangerously, sometimes you have to pay the price,” he said, holding onto her despite her wriggling to get free.

He laughed as she walloped his back.

That laughter...that was what had been missing for far too long.

“What are you doing?” she asked, going along with the game.

“It’s called getting even.” He splashed into the water.

“And how are you going to do that?”

“Like this.”

Carrie was no longer in Jack’s arms, but flying through the air.

“Jack,” she screamed as she hit the surf.

The water was warm, but it stung her sun-damaged skin. She came up for air. “Jack.”

He was standing up to his knees in the water, laughing as she floundered in the surf. Well, two could play at the revenge game. She gave a very convincing shriek and dove down. Swimming a couple of feet under the water, she swam with strong, confident strokes.

When she’d exhausted her air, she broke the water as quietly as she could and sucked in a deep breath. There he was, no longer standing knee-deep, but up to his waist, calling her name.

He dived under the water and stealthily Carrie swam behind him.

He came up and called, “Carrie, where are you?”

“Right here,” she shouted as she jumped at him, knocking him forward into the water.

They both came up sputtering.

“You scared about ten years off my life, Carrie.”

He had her around the waist and dunked her into the water. She came up sputtering and he continued.

“Repeat after me,
I will not scare Jack ever again
.”

“Never,” she yelled just before she was dunked again.

“Say it.”

“No, you deserved it for throwing me into the water.” Down she went again. “Jack,” she screamed as she coughed and laughed. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

“You don’t look very sorry,” he grumbled.

“But I am. Not that you didn’t deserve it,” she added.

He seemed to be considering her apology and Carrie moved in for the kill. She scooped her right leg behind him and caught the back of his left knee. As it buckled she shoved, knocking him under the water.

“Threaten me, will you?” she asked as he came up for air, murder in his eyes.

“You’re walking a fine line here, lady.”

“Nope, I’m running,” she yelled, moving as fast as the warm ocean water would allow, with Jack right on her heels.

THEY WERE STILL laughing the next night after another day on the beach.

Jack was remembering to have fun.

That was the part of himself he had forgotten.

The part that Sandy had stolen.

The part that Carrie wanted to help him rediscover—the silly, joyful part.

It wasn’t just Sandy. For the past few years his cases at Ericson and Roberts had become more and more demanding and he’d put aside the playful part of his personality. Carrie missed it.

“You really don’t fight fair, do you?” Jack said.

Carrie grinned. She shoved past him, slammed the bathroom door and clicked the lock in place. “I get the first shower. And to answer your question, no, I don’t fight fair.”

She could hear him laughing on the other side of the door as she turned the water on.

She loved when a plan worked out just the way she imagined it would.

Jack was still smiling while he waited for his turn for a shower.

This vacation was obviously what he needed.

That Carrie knew it and that she’d gone to such elaborate lengths to get him here....

The thought warmed Jack in a way no island sun could.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so...he started to think
relaxed
, but that wasn’t it exactly.

He couldn’t get the thoughts of putting the lotion on Carrie’s braless back and the way she looked coming out of the water in the moonlight out of his mind. He’d always regarded Carrie as a buddy, but lately the notion was becoming fainter as he realized that she was a woman—all woman. But, she also wasn’t his woman.

No,
relaxed
wasn’t the word he’d use to describe how he felt.

Alive
.

Yes,
alive
, that was it.

He’d spent so much time trying to work things out with Sandy.

He remembered thinking at one point that love shouldn’t have been so hard. If what they’d felt was real, how could she have been so content to jet around the world for months at a time, or why had he been so content to let her? Why had they kept the relationship unofficial?  Why hadn’t they every discussed marriage?

When Sandy broke her leg, leaving her unable to travel, they both really took a look at the relationship and asked the questions that needed to be asked.

They had both reached the same conclusion—what they felt for each other wasn’t love, it was comfortable, familiar even, but it wasn’t love.

He was with a prestigious law firm, doing work that held little interest for him. He belonged to the proper club, moved in the proper circles, behaved in a way that was appropriate for an up-and-coming lawyer. But it was all business.

It seemed that he’d spent his whole life working toward something.

In college he’d worked to get into law school.

In law school he’d worked to pass the bar.

Then there was getting into the proper firm.

Then moving up the ladder and achieving partnership.

Jack was close to that partnership now. Ericson, Roberts,
and Templeton
. It had a nice ring to it. But he was tired of working toward something. When Sandy left, he’d realized he’d paid a price for his single-minded focus.

He’d gone into law to make a difference in people’s lives. He’d wanted to right wrongs and rescue the underdog. Instead he’d ended up working on endless contracts.

Now here he was on an island paradise with his best friend, but things were different between them. Now he just had to figure out what to do about it.

“Karaoke,” Carrie said firmly.

“Why on earth would you want to embarrass yourself like that?” Jack asked.

He wasn’t going to do it, he thought stubbornly. He’d spent a second day doing nothing, but he wasn’t singing in front of strangers.

He gave in to Carrie’s little whims too often. That was the problem. She didn’t realize that there were limits.

Well, there were and tonight they’d reached one. Jack Templeton did not go to karaoke bars—he didn’t drink in them and he certainly didn’t sing in them.

“You are way too old.” She grimaced sadly.

Her constant harping about his inability to have fun and his rapid aging was getting old—older than she seemed to think he was. “May I remind you I was born only two years before you were?”

“There’s old as in age and then there’s old as in spirit. You’ve got one of the oldest spirits I’ve ever met. And we are going to karaoke.”

“Carrie,” he said. Even he could hear the exasperation in his voice. He was sure that Carrie couldn’t miss it. She’d back down.

Instead she pulled her hair back into a ponytail, one that would never make it through the evening, Jack knew from experience. She smiled at him and put on some silver earrings. “You can go out in shorts,” she said. “These things are never formal.”

“Carrington Rose Delany.”

“Uh-oh. I’m always in trouble when you use my whole name.” She kissed his cheek. “Why don’t you tell me what I did now, while we walk over to the karaoke bar?”

She slipped her feet into her sandals.

“I’m not going,” he said.

She never listened to him. That was the infuriating thing about Carrie. Other people jumped when he said jump, but not Carrie.

Never Carrie.

“Okay.” She shrugged her shoulders. “You’re not going. You just stay here and have a nice quiet evening. You could probably use it, what with the work schedule you carry. A man your age can’t be too careful. I mean, men in their thirties have heart attacks all the time. What with the stress you’re under and the fact that you’re out of shape—”

“I most certainly am not out of shape,” he growled.

“Well, I did outrace you. A man in his prime would never have allowed a woman to beat him quite so easily.”

“You did no such thing. I let you win.”

She patted his head. “You just make an early night of it. As a matter of fact, you take the bed again tonight. I was quite comfortable on the floor and your old bones need all the comfort they can get.”

“There’s not a thing in the world wrong with my bones and I’m taking the floor.”

She raised her eyebrows in that maddening way of hers and gave him another one of those patronizing little smiles. “Well, suit yourself. You just go curl up and watch a movie on television. I’m sure there’s some documentary on somewhere. I’ll be quiet when I come in so I don’t wake you. And if I’m not in by the time you get up in the morning, well, I’ll be around later.”

“Just let me get my stupid shoes.”

“Jack, you’re so tense and I don’t understand it. You’re in paradise after all. And don’t bother getting your shoes. I’ve decided in your present mood you wouldn’t be good company anyway. I’m more than capable of entertaining myself. This might be a couples’ resort, but I’m sure some of the bartenders or other employees are single. And I’m betting one of them would be happy to do the karaoke thing with me.”

“I said I’m coming to the bar with you and I’m perfectly lovely company. Now just let me get my shoes.”

She’d done it again. She always won. He’d say no to something, and she’d agree that he shouldn’t do it. Then somehow he’d find himself doing it.

Jack shook his head and tried to puzzle it out, but he couldn’t.

Figuring out Carrington Rose Delany was going to take a smarter man than he.

Thinking of Carrie with another man did little to improve his mood.

He slammed his feet into his shoes and stomped toward the door.

“Are you ready?” he bellowed.

“I’m always ready before you are,” Carrie said. “I can’t figure out where the ugly rumor developed that women were always late. From what I can see, it’s generally the man who holds things up.”

She prattled on as they walked to the club. Jack half listened as he let himself relax and enjoy the cadence of her words. He felt good even though he’d lost another argument.

Being with Carrie was a rollercoaster ride. From annoyance to peace, then back again to annoyance. His emotions rose and fell suddenly and unexpectedly.

He’d been unsettled thinking of Carrie with someone else. But walking with her, listening to her familiar chatter, he simply felt happy that she was with him, not some other, fictional, man.

Things were changing between them. And though he hadn’t quite figured out what to do about the way their relationship was evolving, at this moment, walking next to her across a beach on a couples’ resort, Jack Templeton was simply content.

That contentment lasted exactly one hour and three beers.

“I said no,” Jack yelled.

He wasn’t yelling at her, but rather to be heard over the noise.

Of course, the fact that he was annoyed and that it felt good to be yelling was secondary.

“And,” he continued, on a roll, “I think that’s all the beer for you.”

He plucked the glass from her hand.

Carrie pouted. “I was right, you are old.”

Then she smiled the smile that meant things didn’t bode well for Jack...not at all. “I’ll switch to cola if you will”

“I said...” he started.

“Otherwise,” she yelled right over him. “Otherwise, I’m ordering a pitcher.”

“Could I win an argument just once?” he said more to himself than to her.

“Jack, we never fight, so there’s no winner.” She tugged at his arm, pulling him toward the stage.

If there was no winner, how did he manage to end up here?

Jack sighed as Carrie talked to the man running the machine. She came running back to center stage and thrust a mic in his hand.

“Come on, you know you want to.” Her grin said she believed it.

She took her own microphone in hand and nodded at the man to start the music.

“Carrie, I really don’t want to do this.”

The opening notes wafted through the speakers and Jack wanted to crawl into a hole and hide.

“You didn’t?” he asked, though he knew she did.

“We needed a song we both knew the words to—it’s too hard to just get them off the screen. And I knew you knew these from past experience.” Her hips began to sway and Jack was mesmerized by the sight.

She kicked him when it was his turn to jump in.

Jack grimaced every time they missed a note. As if on cue, Carrie’s ponytail holder fell out and her hair whipped his shoulder as she shook her head.

She shimmied and swayed, singing her heart out and by the time the song was over, Jack had forgotten they were performing for an audience.

The sight of her totally undid him.

They trailed off the last few notes together as the crowd clapped.

“See, you remembered,” she said, beaming her approval.

How could he forget? They’d sung, “I’ve Got You, Babe,” after prom.

Carrie had gone with Matt Barker, one of his basketball friends and he’d gone with...what was her name? He couldn’t remember. All he could remember was threatening that he’d beat Matt within an inch of his life if he didn’t keep his hands off Carrie. She was too young.  She was only a junior.

“Guess I’m not as old as you thought,” he muttered as they wove their way through the crowd and back to their table.

“I don’t know, one song can’t erase your stodginess,” she told him with a taunting grin.

“You enjoy this, don’t you?”

“What?” she asked, the picture of innocence.

“Tormenting me.”

“Tormenting you?” she repeated, sounding genuinely confused. “Why, that’s a fine how-do-you-do. I—”

“Jack and Carrie?” an attractive brunette asked, interrupting them.

Carrie looked up. “Yes?”

The woman grinned and turned to the balding man at her side.

“See, I told you, Herb,” she said and then turned back to the table. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

Jack shook his head and Carrie admitted, “No, I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Mrs. Richardson,” the woman said, as if that explained it all.

Carrie, who was generally good with names, continued to draw a blank.

“I’m sorry,” she said with a helpless shrug.

“Chemistry at Seneca High School. Jack, you were a senior and Carrie you were a junior in the senior class,” the woman prompted.

“Mrs. Richardson? It can’t be, I mean she was old.” Carrie realized how that sounded and stopped herself. “I mean, she was a teacher and you don’t look old enough to have taught us,” she quickly backpedaled.

“I think you’re both old enough to call me Emma now,” Mrs. Richardson said. “And I’m not all that much older than you. I was... Hmm, I must have been in my mid-twenties when the two of you were in my class.”

Carrie tried to do the math and Mrs. Richardson—she would never be able to think of her former teacher as Emma—laughed.

“Which makes me forty-one,” Mrs. Richardson said with a laugh. “Herb and I are here celebrating our fifteenth anniversary. We left the kids with his mom and are rekindling that old flame.”

“Oh.” Jack, the coward, was silent and Carrie didn’t know what to say to this teacher who was no older than most of her friends.

“Would you mind if we joined you for a drink?” Mrs. Richardson asked, even as she took a seat and pulled Herb onto the neighboring one.

“So, how long are you here for?” Mrs. Richardson asked and without pausing she added, “We’re here until Wednesday, aren’t we, Herb?”

Herb nodded.

“We bought that five-day special Jodi’s Travel was running. Did you as well?”

“I added a couple extra days. We’re here until Friday,” Carrie said.

She was still trying to adjust to the idea that someone who taught her was not ancient.

Her teachers should be old.