Seems Like Old Times (9 page)

Tony felt his mouth go dry as he watched the look of surprise,
then pleasure, then caution fill her large, expressive eyes. He could always
read her thoughts in those light blue eyes. The remembrance was a bolt from the
past.

He took in everything about her in an instant. When he was
last with her, she was a lovely eighteen year old, but before him now was a
mature, beautiful woman. Soft, supple teen age curves had given way to a
womanliness that took his breath away. Even wearing casual slacks and a blouse,
she dripped elegance and sophistication so out of place in Big Bob’s he would
have laughed had she been anyone but Lisa.

He noticed that the freckles on her nose were gone, as was
the fullness in her cheeks. Her cheekbones were pronounced now, the skin taut
around
them,
and so smooth and translucent it seemed
flawless. Her mouth was still as kissable as he remembered, the lower lip a
little fuller than the upper, giving her a pouty look that belied her
untouchable, cool image. He had been the first man to kiss her and he still
remembered the taste of it his lips. He had been the first man to make love to
her, and those memories, too, hit him with the force of a hurricane.

He stared, far too long as the pleasure in seeing her
again mixed with the aching hurt that he'd thought had died long ago. Being
with her again, he learned it hadn't.

For no reason she could explain, she stepped closer. She'd
spent every day since her return to Miwok trying not to think about him, trying
not to remember the past. But it had caught up to her. Tony was here. Years had
passed, but the intimacy they’d shared surrounded them with memories and
neither seemed to quite know what to say or do.

"What a surprise!" Gene
Cantelli
said, a little too forced, a little too loudly. "Why don't we get a table
together?" he suggested.

"Sounds great," Cheryl immediately answered.
"Excuse me a minute, though. I've got to find the ladies' room."

Gene, too, backed away. "I want to get a newspaper.
I’ll be right back."

"Gene!" Tony made a move toward him.

"One minute,
paisan
, that’s
all." Gene tossed the words casually over his shoulder and left, whistling
jauntily.

Tony and Lee stood watching their departing friends.

Cheryl and Gene should be horse whipped for this stunt,
Lee thought. With a sigh, she faced Tony.

"Well," she said finally, her voice breathless,
"hello." With a jerking, too fast motion, she stuck out her hand.

He looked surprised,
then
gripped
it hard, too hard. "Lisa," he answered.

She was aware that his hands were broader now, with a
sprinkling of hair on his fingers. They were a man's hands, strong and solid.
He was aware that her hands were slimmer than those of the girl he knew, and
had the creamy softness and perfect nails of a woman who knew the luxury of a
pampered life.

They dropped their hands as if burned.

He spoke. "I hope you don't mind Gene saying we
should join you."
God, what a dumb thing to say.
Right out of the tenth grade.
He put his thumbs in his pockets and rocked
back on his heels.

It was a sweetly familiar gesture. Years ago, Tony had
never been one to stand still, and it seemed that characteristic continued.
"
It's
fine," she said, annoyed that she
sounded somewhat breathless. Even more annoyed that she
felt
somewhat
breathless. What was wrong with her?

She searched his face. His eyes were more wary than when
they were young. She wondered what had put the wariness there. After a
struggle, she found her voice. "I guess we may as well sit...." What
had happened to the smooth, eloquent Lee Reynolds who had boldly interviewed
Presidents and Prime Ministers?

They sat perched on the edge of the foyer bench, both
ready to jump up and flee at a moment's notice. Silence palled. They both began
to speak at once,
then
stopped abruptly, eyeing each
other with patent embarrassment and yet amazement to find themselves side by
side again. There should have been enough between them to laugh at this; but
instead they found there was too much.
Still too much.

"You first," Tony said. His voice was like sand,
hers smooth as quicksilver.

"All I was going to say was that I'd hoped to get a
chance to say hello to you before I left." There was so much she wanted to
say, but she didn't know where to begin. She could discuss the news in front of
strangers on national television, but she couldn't say "Tell me how your
life has been" to one man right beside her, the one man who had once been
the world to her.

"I meant to call you as well, to see about coming
over to give my condolences...." He leaned forward, legs wide, arms on
thighs, his hands clasped. He stared straight ahead.

"You never used to call first."

He froze, his back visibly stiffening, and she cursed the
flush heating her face. Why she had said that, why she had brought up the
intimacy of the past, she didn't know. His expression, when he turned to her,
was serious, as if he couldn't let himself smile. "I couldn't believe it
was you at my son's game on Sunday," he said quietly. "I thought I
was dreaming."

Her eyes never left him. Her heart and mind whirled with
the force of his presence, and she wanted more than anything to just look at him.
To take in everything about him that was the same and all that was different.
Still handsome.
Still exciting.
Her Tony.
But he wasn't her Tony anymore, and she
dropped her gaze. "Being back, it is almost like a dream." She looked
up. "But you know I love baseball."

He relaxed and let his hands hang loose between his legs.
"Heck, that's not baseball. It's Little League."

She smiled then, without restraint or defense.
You
always knew how to make me smile, Tony.

He sat upright, his spine against the backrest of the
bench. "You should have stayed and watched. We won."

"I had to run. I had to meet Miriam." She was
quite sure he didn’t believe a word she said. She never could fool Tony.
"You have a nice looking boy."

His face lit up. "His name's Ben. He's a great
kid."

"How old is he?"

"Nine."

"Already?
My goodness!
Any more kids?"

"No.
No, just the one."

"Ah." She rubbed her hands together and looked
around, avoiding his eyes, fighting the piercing emptiness, the aching hurt,
that threatened to overwhelm her. Somehow, she would get through this. Where
was Cheryl? "You and your wife must be very proud of him."

He folded his hands again. He used to say he had
"soft" hands, and that's what made him such a good fielder. She saw
nothing soft about them.

"I'm divorced."

She raised her eyes, surprised, and yet half-expecting
something like that to explain Gene and Cheryl wanting the two of them to meet.
"I'm sorry," she murmured.

"It happened a long time ago. How about you? Did you
marry?"

She shook her head quickly, her gaze capturing the door,
tables,
the
waitress, anything but him. "Never
could fit it into my schedule, it seemed."

He rested an elbow on the back of the bench. "Must be
hell being a rich, famous TV star."

His arm nearly touched her. She sat forward, putting her
palms on the edge of the seat, her fingers curled under. "Doing news is
hardly stardom."

"Close enough. The way you're going, you'll end up
owning the network if I know you, Lisa."

She felt his eyes measuring her. "Thank you."

"It's what you always wanted." He tried to force
a harshness
to his voice, but it sounded almost
wistful to his ear.

She took a deep breath. Some emotion, long dormant and
hidden deep within her, was responding to him in a way she recognized as dangerous.
"So, what are you doing these days?" She tried to sound upbeat and
casual, and failed miserably.

Over the years since she’d left him, he’d imagine himself
telling her all he'd done with his life, all he'd accomplished. Now, though, it
didn't seem so significant. "I own the Circle Z."

Her mouth dropped open. "You own it? You're
kidding."

"No." He glanced at her as if wondering if he
should say more, then away as he spoke. "I grew up thinking horse ranches
were boring and dumb. A few years ago, my dad told me the owners were going to
put the place up for sale and I realized it was home--more home than I'd ever
known. I didn't want some stranger to buy it."

"You were able to buy that entire ranch? That’s
wonderful! Good for you."

Back in the days when he still thought about Lisa, he used
to wonder why she broke off their relationship so suddenly, so hurtfully. He’d
racked his brain for an answer, and finally decided it must have been because,
while she was ambitious, talented and driven, he was
a nobody
,
and she expected that was all he'd ever be.

Her reaction at learning he'd made something of himself
was everything he'd ever dreamed of.

He spoke. "I made a few bucks while I played
baseball."

She smiled, and he watched her pale blue eyes sparkle the
way they used to do, the way he’d always loved. "So you
did
play."

He cleared his throat, suddenly aware that gloating over
his success didn't give him the satisfaction he had imagined. Her pleasure at
learning he’d played ball seemed so genuine, to brag would have embarrassed
him. "I played for a while. Now I raise Arabians on the ranch. Of course,
my dad really runs the place. He's the expert. I just pay for it."

She didn’t understand his sudden discomfort. "I'd
imagine Vic's run every place he's ever worked," she said. "I
remember going out to the ranch with you to help your dad exercise the horses.
But he never found us much help."

"He'd blow his cork when we'd mess up his
schedule," Tony said, "or give the horses too much sugar." Tony
laughed suddenly and, surprising them both, she joined him.

His laughter had a deeper tone than it used to, but still,
she liked the sound of it. She always did. Abruptly, their laughter stopped and
they stared at each other. There was danger in laughing, in feeling
comfortable, and it struck them both with sudden awareness, washing over them
like waves hitting the shore.

"Would you care to be seated now?" a waitress
asked.

Their gazes jerked apart, their attention directed toward
the waitress, then back again, in silent recognition that Gene and Cheryl were
probably both long gone. Tony shrugged. Lee smiled. Both stood and Lee began to
follow the waitress.

Tony watched her, but he hung back. He should just leave.
He'd managed to let her know how well he'd done without her, so what more was
there to
say?
He should go home, and on the way, stop
off at Gino's house and kill him...

But instead of leaving, he followed Lisa. The waitress led
them to a booth. Lisa sat on one side, he on the other. He opened the menu the
waitress handed him, but Lisa left hers shut. "Just coffee for me,"
she said.
"Black."

He ordered the same.

"Sure you're not hungry?" she asked, realizing
he and Gene might have come here to eat.

"No. Gene was the one who was hungry."

Her lips curved in a slow smile that hit him like a Roger
Clemens fast ball. The smile was so damned sexy, so provocative, it burned in
his guts. "Cheryl was the one who told me she needed a shoulder to cry on
about her marital woes," Lee said.

Tony’s eyes widened. "You're kidding?"

"No." She grinned. "She even told me about
the hot fudge sundae she planned to eat."

"She always did love chocolate."

"She wasn't the only one," Lee said, eyeing him
knowingly, a dumb smile stuck on her face. She didn’t seem to be able to stop
it. "Remember how we'd have a root beer float at my house almost every day
after school?"

"Hey, that's right. When we used Mint Chocolate Chip,
the green ice cream turned the root beer a sick gray." He grimaced.

"And all the chocolate chips sank to the bottom of
the glass and clumped together."

They laughed. Tony's smile faded as he gazed at her, then
he held up his water glass for a toast.
"To old
times."

As she
clinked
her glass against
his, long buried emotions leaped to the surface with a force she wasn't
prepared for, and her words became a whisper.
"Old
times."

The waitress brought their coffee.

Both leaned toward the center of the small table as they
slowly drank their coffee and talked. He was so close, she breathed in
everything about him. Although he wore his hair much shorter now, and it had
become a bit coarser, it was still shiny and meticulously groomed. She liked
the style it was cut in, brushed to the side and back in a smooth, sleek line,
the front lightly shadowing his forehead. His clothes were meticulous too. Even
when they were kids and he’d worn blue jeans, they were always spotless and fit
perfectly, so different from the usual teenage sloppiness.

Lee talked about how she'd driven around Miwok, and how
she got together with Cheryl and a bunch of the girls for dinner. Tony talked
about the guys he kept in contact with in Miwok, as well as those who had moved
away. Neither of them volunteered any further information about themselves, and
neither asked any more questions.

Tony put his empty cup on the table and straightened.
"I guess we've waited long enough. It seems we’ve been abandoned. Do you
have a car?"

"No. Cheryl drove me."

Tony shook his head. "They thought of everything! I
drove Gene in my Jeep. How'd you like a ride home?"