Good Girls Don't (3 page)

“That sounds nice,” she said. It sounded very nice, in fact. She’d cut ties with Sheldon, hadn’t wanted reminders of the people who never saw beneath the facade of the perky cheerleader. They didn’t
know
her.

But Bill did.

“So . . . what do you say? Next time you’re coming to Atlanta, look me up.”

She blinked. Could she look him up? Bill Brannon, the one guy who probably knew her better than any other, to this day. And yet she hadn’t tried to find him after high school. Why not?

Simple. Because she’d hurt him, and she hadn’t wanted to look back. But the truth was, she missed that relationship. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have a boy—correction, a man now—whom she could connect with, the way she and Bill connected back then? Could they still sit and talk for hours?

Colette glanced at the paper in front of her, the one stating all pertinent information about Bill’s niece. Why did they have to reconnect this way? With a lie? But even so, she relished the idea that she could have a male friend once again. It’d been a long time, and she really hated that they’d lost touch after being so close.

“Okay,” she said, deciding to venture across the point of no return. “I’d love to get together when I come to Atlanta.”

Amy fell over on the couch and smothered her sucking gasps with a pillow.

“Any idea when you might be coming to town?”

He sounded almost . . . anxious. And—sexy?

Colette blinked. Where did that come from? She’d never looked at Bill that way, never thought of him that way, which had been part of the problem when he’d confessed his feelings. But his voice
had
sent a shiver down her spine earlier, before she realized it was her old friend on the line. And twelve years had passed since she left Bill at Sheldon. He’d be thirty now. Thirty. Definitely a man.

What had he done in the past twelve years? He’d dreamed of a career in advertising. Had it happened? And had he found love? At thirty, he’d undoubtedly had relationships with women who hadn’t known him as the nice guy of Sheldon High. And hadn’t one of Bill’s dreams been to be a young T-ball dad? Had raising his niece changed his plans? And how had he become her guardian?

So many questions. And Colette very much wanted the answers. She
had
missed Bill, more than she realized, until now.

“Lettie? You still there?”

“I’m here.” And suddenly, she was very eager to see him again. Why had she waited so long?

“Do you know when you’re coming to town?”

Amy ventured up from the pillow and flashed a knowing, sinister grin. “You’re going out with him?” she whispered, her eyes growing wide.

Going out with Bill? The thought hadn’t occurred.

No, that wasn’t true. She was interested in connecting with Bill again. What girl wouldn’t want to meet up with the guy who’d been her friend and confidant through those chaotic teenage years? Reconnect for old times’ sake, not as a date or anything.

Amy, misunderstanding Colette’s lack of a response, picked up the pink vibrator and dropped it in the bag. “Maybe you won’t need it, after all,” she mouthed.

Colette fought the urge to laugh. Although she did want to visit with Bill again, she didn’t plan on it being
that
kind of visit. She simply had a curiosity to know what became of him—that was it. And there was nothing wrong with old friends getting together. Granted, it’d be better if she wasn’t lying to him at the time, but that would only last a week.

“Oddly enough, I’m coming to Atlanta tomorrow,” she said, grinning. It’d be fun to see Bill again. Shoot, after spending six agonizing months with no-words-above-two-syllables Jeff, she would thoroughly enjoy carrying on a decent conversation with a man. And maybe she could figure out a way to keep the lies from entering the dialogue. Somehow.

“Then how about tomorrow night? Are you free?”

“I believe so.” Her stomach fluttered. Lord, what was she doing? And why did it feel more like a date than a simple meeting of old friends?

“Excellent,” he said, a hint of eagerness in the single word. “I’ll make the arrangements. Give me a call when you get in town.”

“Sure.” Colette smiled at Amy. Her sister’s request had inadvertently helped Lettie find Bill again.

“How long will you be here?” he asked.

“Through the weekend,” she said, while Amy nodded her approval.

“Do you have a place to stay?”

Okay. This shouldn’t surprise her. Bill Brannon was the kind of friend who’d offer her a place to stay if she was coming to town. It didn’t mean anything more than that.

“The company provides a hotel typically, but my sister lives in Atlanta, so I usually stay with her when I travel there.”

Amy slapped both hands to her mouth, while her big round eyes bulged and her head did that slow I-can’t-believe-you’re-doing-this shake.

What’d she expect? If you lie for a living, you get pretty good. And the truth was, if Colette had been traveling for a company, the arrangements would have been made.

“Amy lives in Atlanta?” he asked.

She grinned, not surprised at all that Bill remembered Amy. He was that kind of guy, the type to notice a fifth grader, even when he was a senior.

“In the Norcross area,” Colette said. “She works there.”

She refrained from telling him the name of Amy’s employer. It wasn’t as if she were ashamed of the way her sister made a living. Designing sex toys was as worthy a job as any, in Colette’s opinion. It beat the heck out of lying, hands down.

But she didn’t want to insinuate Amy hadn’t made the most of her life. She had, and Colette was proud of her for finding her own little niche in the world. Even if that niche involved pink, rainbow, light-up G-spot finders.

“She’s got a great position in product design,” Colette added, while Amy stifled her snort.

“I’m glad for her. She’s a sweet kid.”

Colette eyed the pretty brunette on the other end of the couch, a younger version of their mother, with long limbs, full lips, wide eyes. Much the same as Colette, minus the blond hair. And very much a woman—though if Bill thought of her as a kid, Colette wouldn’t beg to differ. Amy would always be her baby sister, so “kid” fit.

“I’m pretty proud of her myself.”

At that, Amy flicked her tiny nose in the air and smiled triumphantly.

“Tell you what, Lettie. I’ve never been one to beat around the bush,” he said.

Colette sighed. “I remember.” She could always count on Bill’s honesty, his frankness.

“So I want to know. Are you planning to spend your evenings with Amy while you’re here?”

His question sounded . . . suggestive? Her brows furrowed. Was there more to this reacquainting than she thought? And if there was, was that such a bad thing? What would it be like to have a real date with Bill? Could she even look at him beyond a friend?

Twelve years ago, Colette hadn’t thought so. But things do change over time. Could she think of him that way? Was that even what his question implied?

She decided against asking him for clarification. “That’s what I had planned, but I’d love to see you tomorrow.”

“I’d love more,” he said, erasing any doubts of his meaning and reminding her of his words on graduation night.

“
It’s not enough.
”

She held her breath, then let it out slowly. Oh man, what had she done?

“You could still see Amy while you’re here. But spend some time with me, Lettie. More than one date.”

Her mouth fell open. He’d called it a date. Plain and simple, no punches held. Pure Bill. Tell it like it is.

A date. With Bill? More than that—a date, with Bill, while lying to him for his niece?

Fighting the increasing tension in her neck, she leaned her head back on the couch and closed her eyes. Had she totally messed up?

“Give me a chance to show you what we missed out on back then,” he said, his voice delving deeper, huskier. “What do you say, Lettie?”

Her eyes flew open. No punches held, indeed. “What we missed out on?”

“By not seeing if there could be more to it than friendship,” he answered. Yeah, he’d always been confident, but this—well,
this
wasn’t the Bill she knew back when.

Then again, he was older now. And so was she. What would it hurt to see if their potential for a relationship had grown in the past decade too?

What if it had?

A date? With Bill? She still couldn’t quite grasp the concept.

Colette pondered what to say. Sure, she wanted to see Bill again, but a date?

He cleared his throat. “I can’t tell you how much I regretted not trying to find you after you left town. I’ve gotta admit I was mad at first. And that cost me.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, while Amy raised her brows and evidently tried to determine his end of the conversation.

“I didn’t try to find you until after I finished college. I kept waiting for you to find me.”

“I should’ve stayed in touch,” she said, another tinge of guilt pressing heavily on her chest.

“Hell yeah, you should’ve,” he said, then laughed, a richer, deeper laugh than she remembered. But like in high school, an honest-to-goodness Bill Brannon laugh warmed her completely.

“Are you wanting an apology?” she asked teasingly.

“I told you what I’m wanting. A date. For the record—I still believe you made a mistake back then.”

“A mistake?” she asked, intrigued by the surplus of assuredness in his tone.

“By turning me down, of course.”

Her laugh bubbled from her throat. “Modest, aren’t you?”

“Just telling the truth. Admit it. You’re curious, aren’t you? Don’t you want to see how good it could be?”

This was it. Yes or no. Could she even look at Bill Brannon like that? He obviously felt something in high school that she hadn’t shared. What if that was still the case? Or what if, and this was the part that made her even more nervous, what if she did feel something for Bill this time? Wouldn’t that ruin everything? Because she couldn’t start a relationship, a real relationship, based on a lie. So she’d have to tell him the truth about Erika. And hurt Amy. She knew she wouldn’t—couldn’t—do either. Therefore, she should say no.

“I’d like that too,” she said.

So much for self-preservation.

He exhaled, and she knew he was smiling. She couldn’t say how, but she knew.

“Great. Then tomorrow night, we’ll start getting to know each other again.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” she said, truthfully, for once.

“Good. Oh, and Lettie?”

“Yeah?”

“About that spot Jeff couldn’t find . . .”

Her face flamed. She’d nearly forgotten the conversation he’d overheard. “Yeah?”

“Maybe he didn’t know where to look.”

C
HAPTER
3

W
ell?” Amy prodded. “Spill the goods. You know Erika’s uncle?”

“Why didn’t you tell me her uncle was Bill Brannon?” Colette asked, still shocked.

Maybe Jeff didn’t know where to look?

Had Bill Brannon actually said that?

An overstuffed yellow throw pillow slammed into Colette’s face and blinded her vision.

“What?” she asked, unable to wipe away the silly grin produced by Bill’s parting words.

“Tell. Me. Now.”

Where to begin? She decided on the key fact of importance. “I’m lying to him, for you and your friend.”

Amy blinked, but quickly recovered, and seemed undeterred. “Sorry, but I made a promise to Erika, and I can’t let you back out on your part now. Her uncle is way too overprotective, anyway.”

Bill was an overprotective uncle. Guardian, Amy had said.

“I don’t even remember him having a niece,” Colette said. “His sister was much older than Bill, but I don’t remember Ginny having any kids.”

“Erika’s eighteen, so when you left Sheldon, she’d have been in first grade. You probably wouldn’t have known her.”

“Maybe not, but Bill remembered you.”

Amy propped her arm on the back of the sofa and fingered the tip of her ponytail. “What can I say? I’m memorable.”

Colette curled her feet underneath her on the couch, tapped the pile of sex toys and grinned. “You do tend to make an impression.”

Amy laughed. “Funny, I don’t remember him.”

“You should. He was the guy I was closest to in high school.” Then, when Amy nodded and smirked, Colette corrected, “Not like that. As a friend.”

Amy snapped to attention. “Black hair?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Colette watched Amy’s expression change as she obviously put a face with the name.

“Wait a minute. Good-looking, right?”

Colette thought about it. Bill
was
good-looking, if she’d have been looking at him that way back then. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Then she nodded. Who was she kidding? “Sure, he’s good-looking.”

“Holy cow, that hottie I remember is Erika’s uncle?”

Colette sucked in a gulp of air, then started coughing.

“You okay?” Amy asked as Colette’s eyes watered.

“I’m . . . fine,” she said, brushing her tears away with the back of her hand. “You were in the fifth grade then, right?”

“Old enough to know a hottie when I saw one,” Amy answered. She smiled broadly and picked up a penis ring from the pile of toys. “Did you know this little jelly circle makes a guy last up to three times longer? And we have them in six flavors now. This one’s peach.” She tossed it in her bag.

Only Amy could pronounce Bill a hottie, then move directly into the subject of penis rings, without batting a lash.

“Seriously,” she said. “Three times longer.”

“I had no idea,” Colette said. “Maybe you should send some to Jeff.”

Amy laughed so hard she snorted. “A minuteman, huh?”

“If that.”

After plinking the last penis ring in the bag, Amy slapped her hands together. “I still can’t believe it. Erika’s uncle is that hottie from Sheldon. Can’t believe I never put it together, but then again, I haven’t seen him yet. Erika and I always meet somewhere when we go out.”

“There’s something about you calling him that—”

“What?” Amy asked, separating her remaining toys by color.

Did all sex toys come in shades of neon, or just hers? Colette decided now wasn’t the time to ask, particularly with the subject at hand. “Bill. A hottie.”