Authors: Debra Salonen
Tags: #romance, #comedy, #sexy, #black humor, #aging and sex
He leaned forward, elbows
bracketing his plate. "Believe me, you're not the only woman
attempting to level the playing field. What does that have to do
with us?"
Her lips formed a pouty
frown. "If I'd met you before Buddy and you'd brought me here to
share this romantic picnic, I'd have said, 'Screw the food, let's
fu...get it on.' And we'd have been upstairs in your bed so
damn...I mean, darn...fast, you'd be wondering what happened to
your jockeys."
His pulse quickened and his
hard-on got harder. "And that's a bad thing how?"
She tossed up her hands. "I
think I've given you the wrong impression. I did a little swinging
when I was married, but I've dated six guys in all the years since
my divorce--including Buddy. Like I said, I gave into his pleading
because I wanted to thumb my nose at society and say, 'Screw
senility. I may be old, but I'm not dried up and ready throw in my
vibrator.' But that doesn't make me easy."
"I know you're not.
Apparently, I've forgotten every dating protocol I ever knew. We
should have eaten lunch at the restaurant, gone to a movie, changed
our relationship status on Facebook..." That brought a smile, as
he'd hoped. "Judy, I'm sorry. I'm not making excuses, but
everything you said applies to me, too. Well, not the vibrator,
but...I've let work and responsibility--and maybe the past--keep me
from fully engaging in life. When I'm with you, I feel exhilarated
and optimistic and whatever the opposite of bored is. I apologize
if I jumped to the wrong conclusion, but I thought--after last
night--that you and I were on the same page."
Her smile looked sad. "As
you had every right considering my hand was on your dick. But this
morning at Heritage House, something changed. Mother tried to use
me against my sister...normally, it's the other way around. I think
a part of me has been waiting my whole life to be the favorite.
But, Mom's crazy mind games didn't work. Instead, I felt sorry for
her. I know who I am, and I like who am. I don't need her approval
any more." She blushed. "Dang. I sound like a guest on Oprah,
right?"
"You sound like Judy. This
doesn't surprise me."
She eyed him curiously.
"Really? Because I spent most of my life believing I was destined
to screw up...so, I did."
He took her hand. "You've
worked hard to provide for yourself. By doing your job you helped a
lot of people live out their final years with dignity and joy. You
paid taxes and never robbed a bank, right? How's that screwing
up?"
Her smile seemed brighter
but not quite convinced. He scooted his chair a little closer.
"Judy, I've lived the most normal, by-the-book life you could
imagine. Did that protect me from loss and sadness? No. So, where
did such upright, rule playing get me? I'm fifty-five. Alone. Stuck
in a job that sucks any smidgeon of joy from my day so the first
thing I reach for when I walk through the door at night is the
cognac."
She squeezed his hand. Her
warmth, her empathetic smile made it easy to say, "I'm not an
impetuous person. Ask Fletcher. It took me two weeks to make up my
mind about whether or not to buy the Prius. But from the moment I
met you, I haven't been able to think about anything--anyone--else.
I want to get to know you better. I think we'd be good
together."
Coward. Tell her how you really
feel.
But before he could add, "I
think I may even be in love with you," she dropped her chin to her
chest and shook her head.
"I can't see you anymore,
Wiley."
"Why?"
She let go of his hands and
jumped to her feet. "I'm moving. After I left Mom's, I decided I
like myself too much right now to let her negativity pull me down.
She can't help how she is. She's my mother and I love her, but I
love myself enough to run like hell. So, I called Fletcher and told
him I'd take the job. I'm going to manage his new club."
"His sex club?"
She nodded. "He'll need
help with the paperwork. Southern California is a fresh start and a
five-hour drive from Mom. Does that make me a coward? Maybe. But I
prefer to label it an act of self-preservation."
He called on all his years
of judicial practice to keep from showing his disappointment. "When
do you leave? Today?"
She blinked. "Heavens, no.
It'll take me a couple of weeks to get all my ducks in a
row."
He pointed at the table.
"Then you have time for lunch?"
She pressed her hand to her
belly. "I do, but...I just broke up with you. Didn't I?"
He chuckled and waved away
the idea. "We aren't exactly a couple, Judy. You don't owe me
anything. I like you. I would have liked the chance to get to know
you better. If you have time for dinner or a movie--even a jog
together--before you leave, that would be great. If not,
then...this--whatever this is between us--wasn't meant to be." He
pointed to the table. "But we can still enjoy lunch together, can't
we?"
Judy took a deep breath and
thought about what he was asking. Had she truly, honestly turned
down a chance to date the man of her dreams? She could almost hear
Pru's shriek of horror from Iceland. "You are the world's biggest
dope, Judy. Strip him, screw him and let your mother go
f-herself."
The Judy Banger of last
week would have done that. But look where jumping into bed with
Buddy, Jed and the ménage had gotten her. If she had the guts to
stand up to her mother, surely she was brave enough to hold out for
Mr. Right. And, despite being physically attracted to this gorgeous
hunk of a man, she knew how high the odds were stacked against them
ever becoming a couple.
But a girl had to
eat.
"Lunch," she said stupidly.
"Of course. Sorry. My head's all over the place."
She sat, tucked the linen
napkin her host had brought from the house on her lap and picked up
her giant sandwich. Her brain hadn't been on food when she ordered.
She'd still been trying to figure out why Wiley had been so set on
leaving the Midtown Diner.
To avoid being
seen with me?
Or did his agenda have more
to do with the look of desire she'd read on his face as he watched
her walk toward his table?
No trace of that desire
remained now, she thought, watching him chew a bite of his Reuben.
She'd doused those smoldering embers like a rainstorm on a
campfire.
They dined with the stiff
formality of polite adults who'd lived long enough to fake small
talk with artificial grace. The whole thing felt as empty as the
calories she consumed without really tasting. And she knew exactly
who was to blame.
Although generally she made
a point of avoiding contentious subjects at
mealtime--
Thank you,
Mom--
Judy decided to risk heartburn--and
heartache. "Why'd we leave the restaurant, Wiley? Because you
didn't want to be seen with me?"
His shock appeared real.
"What? Of course, not. Why would you say that?"
"The Midtown's popular with
the D.A. and the Chief of Police. Fletcher's ex-partner said a lot
of awful things about me. Small towns...gossip...word gets around.
Your reputation could be tarnished."
He shook his head. "I doubt
that. Nor do I care. But you're right about living in a fish bowl.
I didn't want to feel as though our every movement was being
analyzed--not because you're Judy Banger, but because I'm Judge
Wilson Canby."
She honestly hadn't
considered that.
"I'm sorry if that rattled
you, Judy. I should have asked your opinion, instead of imperiously
demanding we leave. Can you tell my social graces are a little
rusty?"
Can you tell I'm a little
neurotic?
Before she could comment, her
phone started to play a familiar tune. "Oh, sorry. I left the
ringer on in case my sister snapped and wound up murdering
Mom."
She started to turn if off,
but Wiley shook his head. "Take it. I'll get us more iced tea." Her
glass had room for about half an inch of liquid.
She chewed fast and
swallowed before answering. "Fletcher, what's up? Did you change
your mind about hiring me?"
Wiley's son's laugh sounded
identical to his father's. "Of course, not. I wanted to update you
on Buddy's memorial service. Lewis just confirmed with the
Veteran's Cemetery. They'll inter his ashes this coming
Sunday."
"My goodness. That's not a
lot of warning. How can I help?"
"Lew's going to email you a
flier. If you'd print a few copies and post them around
town...maybe, one at the bar and another at Heritage House?
Wherever you think appropriate. Oh, and Lewis said to tell you he
really hopes you'll be there."
"Of course. I wouldn't miss
it."
"Thanks. And, by the way,
he thought hiring you was brilliant. His word. We'll try to talk
more at the funeral, but Lew will have his kids, so we probably
won't have much of a chance."
She said a hurried goodbye
as soon as she spotted Wiley returning. She hadn't told Fletcher
about meeting his dad. That hadn't been a problem until he offered
her a job--and she'd accepted. Now, she felt duplicitous. Which
made her feel all the guiltier about wanting to jump Wiley's
bones.
"I am one sick individual,"
she murmured under her breath.
"Pardon?" Wiley asked, his
hip brushing against her arm as he stopped to set down her
glass.
The contact set off an
electric frisson that sparked mini-explosions in hormone centers
around her body. Her nipples puckered. She crossed her legs and sat
a bit straighter, trying not to wiggle and jiggle in response to
the tingling in her lady parts.
Wiley must have picked up
some kind of silent "I'm-hot-and-ready" signal on his man radar
because he pulled his chair directly across from her and sat,
hunching forward so their torsos were only a foot or so apart.
"Judy, can we be frank with each other?"
Any closer to those
let-me-jump-in-and-swim blue eyes and she'd be frankly ripping off
his shirt. Stalling, she grabbed her glass and took a drink.
Unfortunately, the condensation on the side splashed onto her upper
chest and trickled straight toward her cleavage. Wiley caught the
drop on his finger and popped it in his mouth. A little icky but
also a lot sexy. Judy's self-control evaporated. Those weeks of
dreams, hot and heavy, lusting and thrusting, with Wiley in the
role of luster and thruster, flashed across the screen in her
head.
"Could we f...I mean, screw
instead?"
His head cocked to one
side. "Seriously?"
"It doesn't have to be
serious. I like fast, fun and frivolous. What about
you?"
He tossed back his head and
laughed. "Never tried it that way, but I'm game, if you
are."
Was she?
No.
Yes.
Yes, please.
His grin told her the last
answer is the one that came out.
She stood and took his
hand. "We should take this party inside...you being a judge and
all."
He rose and pulled her to
him. "Screw the judge. This is Wiley and Judy doing whatever
pleases them." He kissed her hard and fast. Then he grabbed her
hand, and they dashed like naughty little children into the
house.
Chapter Seven
Wiley refused to question
his good luck. Despite the nasty rumors his son's ex-partner tried
to circulate about her, Judy was not a whore. She cared deeply and
her feelings floated near the surface for everyone to
see--especially those people who felt threatened by that kind of
honesty. Wiley desired her, but he wasn't looking for a long-term
relationship. He'd screwed up enough of those for this lifetime.
Since she'd already announced her intention to leave town, this
little tryst probably was a one-time deal.
He led her to the French
doors off his private patio.
"Ooh, what a sweet little
nook. Do you come here often?"
"I did. It was my refuge
after the accident when things got bad. Julie had great nurses but
watching someone you love suffer is never easy." He groaned and
shook his head. "I have all the savoir-faire of a brutish oaf. I
honestly wasn't looking for sympathy."
She placed her palm flat
against his chest. "I told myself, 'No more sex.' But here I am
ready to jump into bed with you. So, let's be adults about this. I
like you. You like me. We have chemistry. I swear I'm going into
this with no expectations beyond having a little fun." Her other
hand cupped his manhood and squeezed. "You don't have to walk me
home and shake my daddy's hand, and I promise you won't be named in
a paternity suit."
"That's very good of you,"
he said, pulling her tight against him. The soft cushion of her
generous bosom flashed an image across his mind of her naked
breasts floating in the water. Lust poured through his veins. "Did
I tell you how pretty you look today? Your dress is very
becoming."
"Thanks. It comes off easy.
Wanna see?"
"In a moment." He led her
to the bed. "I want to savor you. Slow and deliberate. The way a
trial unfolds. One piece of evidence at a time." He caressed the
side of her face then drew his finger across her lips. "Your dress,
lovely as it is, needs to go."