Ready for You (2 page)

Fortunately, the topic of the talk was interesting enough to distract her from thoughts of what she would do that evening, though she wasn’t sure what that would be. She chatted with a few acquaintances over lunch, all the while waves of guilt overtaking her. If she knew I was meeting a man, not my husband, tonight, what
would she
think of me, she questioned herself about everyone at the table. What kind of horrible mother am I, she asked herself. Her stomach clenched at the answer.

By five-thirty, she worked herself into a frenzy of back and forth thoughts. She’d been home just over two hours and had cleaned the bathroom, her least favorite task, always unpleasant in a house with two, three really, boys. This necessitated another shower. While the hot water massaged her back, the steam danced upwards. She closed her eyes and pictured Rocco. She continued her imagining from the dull parts of her day, in which she’d led up to the end of their evening. Would they kiss? In her mind, they did, hard, long, tongues darted,
hands
found favorite spots…spasms warmed and pleased her. She smiled then shook her head. She could orgasm just thinking about Rocco when she hadn’t been satisfied with Phil in years, not that they’d tried in a long time. Something was really wrong with that, with her. Then again, something was right that she could still function, though she’d known that. She just hadn’t known it could happen without touching. She couldn’t meet Rocco or she would do something, or someone, she would regret. Chiara shook her head again. Not regret, but she didn’t believe she could live with the guilt.

Chapter Two

Rocco glanced at his cell. He could call, but maybe it was better if she didn’t show. He glanced up when heels clicked on the pavement. He blew out a breath. Damn. Her black dress bordered on conservative, but the cinched waist, v neck, and slightly clingy fabric accentuated all her curves. And her high stilettos hinted at the hot flirt he’d experienced the first time they spoke.

“I thought you wouldn’t show,” he said. The sun nestled into the bosom of the surrounding golden hills, distant beyond the big box stores and freeway.

“It’s not right to leave a man hanging,” she said.

He chuckled, she had it. “You’re beautiful.” His tone was casual, but damned if he didn’t mean it. She blushed as he looked her up and down but her eyes met his with a glint. Probably she thought he spun lines on her, but he was sincere.

“You clean up well yourself,” she said. She pulled herself a little taller and put her hand on her hip. Okay, so he’d like to get his hands on those, among other things.

“Thanks. What would you like to eat?”

Her deep brown eyes flashed again. She was hungry all right. “Umm, what’s good?”

He paused, his mouth twitched at the corners.
“Italian?”

“My favorite, but I prefer home cooked.” She smiled and he caught a quick flash of her tongue…food, we’re talking about dinner.

“Me too.
Want a burger? There’s Fuddruckers or Taxis,” he said. Maybe if they went somewhere casual and non-date like, the guilty needling in the back of his mind would stop.

“Okay.”

He put his hand on the small of her back and they walked over to Taxis. It took a lot not to sneak his hand lower. The outdoor walkways buzzed with talk and kids running. The air mingled the warmth of early summer with the smells from the restaurants lining the shopping center, Italian, American, Mexican,
Asian
, as diverse as the crowd around them.

“Are you vegetarian?” he asked after they ordered.

“No, I just like veggie burgers. I make my own sometimes, but only my boys and I eat them. Their dad is a meat and exotic foods kind of person.” She glanced away, at the other bright red booths and yellow and black décor.

“You like to cook?” His knee
bounced,
an involuntary habit. He placed a hand on it to stop the movement.

“Yes, but the clean up gets old. What about you?”

Maybe this was a mistake. He didn’t want to listen to her complain about her husband and her chores.

“I confess I still go to my parents’ to get a decent meal. I’d rather do dishes than cook.”

“Your parents live in the area?” Her fingers traced a line in the hollow of her throat, as if expecting to find a necklace there to toy with.

He cleared his throat and made himself think of his parents. “In the house I grew up in.”

“Claire?” He cringed at the high-pitched squealy voice.

“Hi, Suzy,” Chiara said. She rose and hugged her. Claire? She lied about her name? She sat back down and he coughed at the other woman’s cloying floral scent. “This is Rocco. We ran into each other. He’s an old friend of my brother’s.” He raised an eyebrow when she glanced at him but he rose and shook this Suzy’s hand.

“Would you like to join us?” he said.

“Thanks, you’re sweet, but I’m meeting a friend. Have fun.” He relaxed back into the booth, a little too much. His knee bumped hers and she sat taller. Suzy wiggled her fingers at them in a wave and turned. She stopped and faced them again. “Oh, did Phil and the boys get off okay?”

“Yes, thanks.” Her lips set in an unflattering line.

“He’s such a great dad, you’re so lucky. ‘Bye,” Suzy said. He’d heard her tone of voice a thousand times, a combination of jealousy and adoration. Was there a little something going on there? Though what kind of guy would prefer a pudgy too-cute blonde over Chiara, if that was her name, he couldn’t figure. Then again, better to have something to grab onto than all skin and bone. But Chiara had just the right amount of cushioning, firm yet soft.

She rolled her eyes after Suzy walked away and he stifled a laugh. “I thought you said your name was Chiara?”

“It is, but I was on an anti-family kick when I met Phil and went by Claire. He still calls me that. Suzy’s a coworker at the pharmaceutical company where he works.”

“He a scientist?”
Does she know her husband might be having an affair?

“No, in sales.”
She fiddled with her straw.

“Where did you grow up?” he asked as their food arrived.

“Fairvale.”

“I’m surprised we never met.”

“People say it’s a small town, but it only feels that way.” She took a bite of her burger, small and polite. Maybe he misjudged her. Maybe she was just an unhappy, conventional, thirty- something housewife.

“You’re right. Did you go to college?” His knee started up again. His mom and daughter would’ve had a field day with his behavior tonight. Not that they’d be out on a date with him.

“Yes, in San Diego. That’s where Phil’s from.”
The husband again.
Was this some kind of punishment for his misdeeds?

“My daughter’s going to SDSU in August,” he said.

“She’ll have a great time.”

“Not too much fun, I hope.”

“Protective father?” she asked as they munched on fries.

“I know what guys are like. I got my girlfriend pregnant when we were only nineteen. I’d been playing minor league ball and had to quit. Lucky for me, my dad gave me a job at his construction company.”

“Have any brothers or sisters?”

“An older brother and younger sister.
They’re both doctors,” Rocco said.

“Impressive,” she said.

“Yeah.
I take it you have a brother?”
The usual chit-chat.
But he wasn’t bored like usual. He wanted to know about her. He shrugged his shoulders in a quick movement.

“Two, both older, and a younger sister.”

“What’s your maiden name?”

“Vitale.
Chiara Luna Vitale.”

Vitale.
Shit.
Hopefully not
those
Vitales.
“Your name rivals mine: Rocco Ugo Buffone.” They laughed. Her laugh rang out, a real woman’s laugh, not some girly giggle or polite ha ha.

“R.U.B.?
Do you?”

“Depends, buff too.” He grinned then cleared his throat and glanced at the TV on the far wall. “So, what do you write?”

“Novels.
I got started again last year. I’m not published yet.”

“Finished anything?”

“Yes, two books. I might need to give it up, though, at least for now. We agreed, I mean Phil and I, I would get a job once Max, he’s my youngest, started kindergarten. I haven’t found anything yet and he starts first grade in the fall.”

He chewed his burger and looked at her, or really at her shoulder, which she hunched a little. She took a bite of her burger. The air loomed heavy in the protracted silence. He watched the baseball game on one of the four TVs. Dishes clattered and the low beat of hip hop music joined the chatter of the other diners.

“What did you do before?” Better to talk, he had to at least finish dinner.

“I worked at a book store until we moved here seven years ago. I majored in English lit in college, not very practical in the job market.”

“Must help in your writing.”

“Hard to say.
Did you hope to get to the majors?”

“Sure, doesn’t every ballplayer? But I had to do the right thing. I wasn’t that good anyway.”

“Good enough to get drafted,” she said. He shrugged. “Do you still play?”

“Only with my nephews.”
He wadded his napkin and shoved it by his plate. She ran her fingers across the rough paper and wiped the edge of the table then stopped. Was she one of those neat freaks? “Would you like to see a movie?” Why did he ask?

“I don’t know what’s out. Here,” she said, handing him some cash. He shook his head. She’d offered when they’d ordered at the front counter, but he’d refused then too. “Please, take it.”

“I got it, thanks. I invited you.”

“Thanks.” He stood and waited for her. She fumbled with her purse before she clutched it in her hand and followed him out.

They read the movie marquee and she glanced around at the posters. A cool breeze rustled over them, but a fine line of sweat wet his forehead.

“Comedy, chick flick, or action?” he said.

“Action.”
He glanced at her, eyebrows raised. “What, women can’t like action flicks?”

“Sure, ‘Salt’ or ‘
The
Expendables’?”

“I’m sure you’d prefer Angelina Jolie, but I’ll go with Stallone.”

“Now who’s making assumptions?”

“Oh, you like to check out Sly Stallone?” she said, a playful challenge in her eyes.

“Would you?”

“He’s Italian. My grandpa says all the best things in life are.” She smiled as they waited in line.

“Sounds like my dad. You didn’t always agree, did you?” If she was one of those Vitales, maybe she didn’t see her family anymore. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t in for a relationship.

“No, it’s taken me a long time to realize they may have been right.”

“They?” he asked.

“My family.
Let me pay for the movie?”

“Nope.”

“Thanks.” She studied him as they waited to enter the theatre. “Dinner and a movie, I hope--”

“Don’t go there,” he said in a gruff voice.

“Sorry.” She blushed and brushed her fingers through her thick, wavy hair. He was unfair, she was probably right. He’d like to get his hands in her coffee bean hair, shiny and smooth. Was it her real color? He knew the best way to find out.

“Want a drink?” He sure as hell needed one.

“Only if you let me buy,” she said.

He nodded--he was losing his resolve. He sipped his Coke as he followed her, failing in his vow to not watch her rounded, swaying hips and her firmly curved ass while both tweaked her dress, a centimeter here and there. She must work out. No everyday woman with two kids could look like that and not. Maybe she was on that sex diet he’d heard about several years back. He should be so lucky.

The movie was all crazy man action, shooting and blowing up, but they both laughed at the same moments. He shifted in his stadium style seat every ten or fifteen minutes, both from her proximity and the warm sensation her robust laughter sent through him. Her hand lay on the armrest. He smoothed each finger with his. She shivered as he placed his hand over hers. In the flickering dark, he could push that armrest out of his way, slide next to her, and his fingers could have some real fun under that convenient dress of hers. Instead, he left his hand on hers, smiling when she shifted her hand and laced her fingers in his. No need to rush, they had all night. He sat still until the movie ended, their moist palms cemented together. When they stood, she pulled away and walked out. He followed, all the way to her car in the huge, bright, packed parking lot.

“What’s wrong?” he said while she unlocked her door.

 
“Nothing.
Everything.”
He squeezed her arm. “Don’t.” She faced him, so close he could have leaned her right against the car and… “I know what you must think, but I’ve never cheated on Phil. I’ve never even tried until now.”