Now You See Me (13 page)

Ted’s face took on an expression of such horror that J.T. almost burst out laughing. He couldn’t recall the last time someone in the Cove had stood up for him—in public, no less—and it was turning into a mighty fine experience. If he hadn’t been hungry for more of Lyddie before, he was now.

“Don’t worry, Ted. I’ll spare you the effort.” J.T. rose slowly, both to prolong Ted’s agony and to give himself more time surrounded by Lyddie’s vanilla perfume. He offered a formal bow. “Mrs. Brewster, on behalf of Mr. McFarlane and myself, let me offer my sincere apology for acting like two buffoons in your shop.”

Ted mumbled something that sounded like agreement.

“Apology accepted.” Lyddie glowered at them both for a moment, then let it soften into something warmer.

“You’re both welcome to stay.
I’m
not in the habit of telling people what they should do or where they should go.”

Ted had the grace to flush.

J.T. shook his head. “That’s okay. Time for me to get back to work, anyway.” When a roomful of curious eyes glanced his way, his smile narrowed. “Show’s over, folks. See you later, Lyddie.”

* * *

T
HE
SHOP
EMPTIED
soon after J.T. left. Most of the witnesses made sure Lyddie knew they hoped she would be okay, and that they were pleased to know she wouldn’t be moving. She nodded and bit her tongue to keep from reminding them that she wasn’t the one in need of apologies.

Jillian, however, was another story. No sooner had J.T. left than she whipped a notebook from her purse, ignoring her husband while furiously jotting notes. Nadine muttered something about lawsuits and running people out of town. Lyddie’s blood boiled. When she walked past to wipe down a table, she couldn’t keep herself from bumping against Her Worship’s arm. The ensuing scrawl across the page was a reward in and of itself.

“Oh, Jillian, excuse me. I lost my balance for a second.”

Jillian looked highly aggrieved, but she forced a smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I hope it wasn’t anything important.” Lyddie tried to catch a glimpse of the words filling the page, but Jillian snapped the book closed.

“Nothing you need to worry about.” When Lyddie shrugged and went to move on, Jillian added, loud enough to carry, “Though if I were you, Lydia, I wouldn’t be so quick to stand up for J.T. People notice those things, you know. They’re bound to talk.”

A month ago, even a week ago, that might have worried Lyddie. Not today.

So when Jillian followed her oh-so-helpful words with a knowing smirk, Lyddie merely leaned closer and said, “I doubt it, Jillian. They’re too busy laying odds on whether or not that vacation you took last winter was really a cruise, or if it had something to do with the sudden lack of wrinkles around your eyes.”

Jillian froze, Ted coughed and behind the counter, Nadine dropped the mug she’d been filling.

By the time three o’clock arrived, Lyddie couldn’t wait to lock the door on the day. All she wanted was to kick off her shoes and collapse in silence for a few minutes before she had to go home.

Then she remembered that J.T. was coming back to talk to her. Suddenly, she didn’t feel so exhausted after all.

“Go home, Nadine,” she said as the older woman tossed her apron in the laundry hamper by the back door. “And cross your fingers that tomorrow is easier.”

Nadine shook her head in that slow way that always warned Lyddie there was a lecture ahead. “I’d say that’s mostly up to you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. Something’s going on with you, missy, and I wish you’d get it straightened out before the rest of us have to pay any more than we already have.”

Lyddie’s stomach tensed. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, Lyddie. Your moods are flying all over the place, you’re turning red all the time, you keep closing your eyes like you’re trying to hold it together and today you lost your brains long enough to insult Their Royal Highnesses. It’s obvious to anyone who takes the time to put it together.”

“It is?” Lyddie forced herself to keep her eyes wide open as she reached back to brace her hands on the butcher-block table. There was no way Nadine could know about her supersecret fantasies for the upcoming weeks—but it sure sounded as though she had an idea.

And if Nadine had figured it out, then half the town already suspected her of sleeping with J.T.

Which was an oddly cheering thought, actually. If everyone believed it anyway, then what was left to stop her?

“Ah, Lyddie, come on. There’s no shame in it anymore. It’s not like it used to be when women tried to hide it.”

“Of course not.”

“So have you done anything about it yet?”

“Uh...”

Nadine frowned. “You really should. It’s only going to get worse the longer you wait, you know, and there’s no point in suffering when you don’t have to. Especially when the rest of us have to feel the fallout.”

Oh, dear God.
Had Nadine just given her permission to jump J.T.?

“What do you suggest I do?”

“Well, get to the doctor first.”

“Of course.”

“And then do some research for yourself. You can find anything on the internet these days.”

The memory of her web search on over-the-counter HIV tests the previous night brought heat to Lyddie’s cheeks. She was just about to admit that she’d already handled that task when Nadine took one look at her face and groaned.

“Another one coming? Go splash some water on your cheeks before you turn into a lobster.”

Lyddie’s embarrassment did a one-eighty and turned into confusion. “Another what?”

“Well, another hot flash, of course.”

Lyddie stared stupidly, replaying the conversation in her mind. Symptoms...doctor...moods...

“Oh, my God. You think I’m going through menopause?”

“Well, what the hell did you think I was talking about?”

“I... But...” Holy crap. Her brave attempts to turn her life around were being dismissed as nothing more than
hormones?

“You honestly think that’s the problem?”

“Don’t see how it could be anything else. There’s no way you could be pregnant, you’re the right age, and you—”

“I’m only forty-two!”

“That’s plenty old. I knew a girl over in Morrisburg who started in her thirties.”

“Lucky her,” Lyddie mumbled.
Menopause.
Never mind that Nadine was calling it all wrong. The very word made her feel old and broken, like she should be reaching for a sweater. Plus it irked the hell out of her, knowing that she was seen as such a permanent widow that people couldn’t even come up with anything juicier to pin on her. She didn’t want to be the town tramp, but come on. Did they honestly think she was that meek, that undesirable, that only raging aging hormones could drive her to action?

A soft rap sounded at the back door. Nadine cursed. Lyddie started and her gaze flew toward the sound.

It was J.T., giving her that smile that only she seemed to see. Everything in her that had felt momentarily withered and discarded bloomed into sudden life, pulsing through her.

“What’s he doing here?” Nadine asked.

“We have some papers to discuss.”

He pointed at his watch, but Lyddie was way ahead of him. It was time to meet. Time to act.

Time to make her move.

CHAPTER TEN

L
YDDIE
WAS
VAGUELY
AWARE
that Nadine had said goodbye and slipped out. But mostly, now that she’d made her decision, all she could focus on was J.T., in all his glorious flesh.

She moved fast through the kitchen, not allowing herself to think. She’d done nothing but
think
for too long now. It was time to start doing.

She saw his surprise at her approach, saw the way it quickly shifted into a gut-melting grin of welcome when she opened the door, and from the top of her head to the tip of her quivering toes, she knew that if she could get up the nerve to go through with this, she would end up with the best how-I-spent-my-summer-vacation essay ever.

He stepped closer. “How are you doing?”

“Holding on. You?”

“Par for the course.” He shrugged. The movement hiked his T-shirt higher. He was in the bike shorts again, a second skin that hugged every dip, every line, every God-knows-where-that-leads curve. Any last doubts were pushed aside by a drive far more primal.

“I’m sorry about what happened this afternoon.” She forced her gaze back to his face, gauging his reaction by the narrowing of his eyes, the twist of his lips.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It’s my place. Anything that happens here is ultimately my responsibility.”

He crossed his arms and gave her the half smile she already knew meant he was in full tease mode. “So, if I told you I had the time of my life, would you take responsibility for that, too?”

“No. But I would say you were a damned good liar.”

His laugh was low and husky, intimate and enticing. Lust erupted within her, fast and hot and urgent. Every inch of her skin itched to press against him. She wanted to taste his lips and tangle her feet with his and inhale the scent of afterglow off his chest. She wanted to whimper and moan and lose herself in the overpowering urge to move closer, harder, faster. She wanted to feel alive in every pore, every molecule.

And then she wanted to laugh and whisper and hold him tight until it started all over again.

She pointed to the briefcase resting by his feet. “You have some papers for me?”

“Uh...papers. Right.”

He seemed awfully distracted for someone who was supposed to be here for a business meeting. She hoisted herself onto the corner of her desk, putting herself level with his shoulder, and smiled. “You know. The papers you were reading before Ted went all Neanderthal on us.”

“Oh. Those.” A wry smile quirked the corner of his mouth. “Would you believe I don’t remember a thing I read?”

Simple words. Innocent, even. But the way his voice dropped when he said them made her ever more certain that she wasn’t alone in this.

It had been a long time since Lyddie played this game, but she remembered the next line. “How come? Were you preoccupied?”

“You could say that.”

“Couldn’t wait to see if Ted could speak without Jillian’s hand stuck up his...back?”

He stared for a second, then burst into laughter, richer and deeper than the strongest Colombian. Lyddie realized that while she’d seen him grin and even heard an errant chuckle, this was the first time she’d heard his belly laugh. It seemed to take him over. It was strong and vigorous and made her think,
damn,
as soon as she stopped being terrified, this was gonna be fun.

He shook his head, shoulders still heaving. “God, that felt good. You know that’s the first time I’ve really let loose since I came back here?”

“I don’t know whether to feel sad for you or proud of myself.”

“How about if you skip them both and go for a chuckle or two of your own? Say, at dinner with me tomorrow night?”

If life were an Elvis movie, this would be the moment when one or both of them would burst into song. She hadn’t been wrong.

Of course, if life were an Elvis movie, she would have a script so she wouldn’t have to figure out what to say next.

“Tomorrow night? I—”

He held up a hand. “Wait. That came out wrong. Let me start over.” He took a couple of steps toward the window before turning back to her, hands outstretched, face more serious than she had ever seen.

“If you think that I was staring at my work the whole time I was there, then I’m a hell of a better actor than I thought. The only thing I remember—except for Ted—is sitting at that table, watching every move you made and wishing everyone would leave so I could be alone with you. But since that wouldn’t be good for your business, I thought I’d come back when they were gone.” He leaned forward, hands resting lightly on her shoulders. It was all she could do to keep her knees from turning into Slinky toys. “I would like to see you tomorrow night. Very much.”

The fact that she remembered how to swallow was proof that the body’s reflexes are a wonderful thing indeed. He was so close. She saw the slight nervousness in those eager eyes, the way his T-shirt stretched with every rise of his chest. When she breathed she inhaled him, warm and strong, fresh like the river, dappled with a hint of pine.

He lifted a hand to her cheek. Lightly. One finger, maybe two. She could have been more certain if she hadn’t been staring at his mouth, wondering what would happen if she leaned forward and helped herself to a taste of what promised to be even more delicious than a lemon poppy muffin.

But she couldn’t. Not yet. No sensual dessert allowed until she ate her vegetables.

“Tomorrow. Okay, this is, um, complicated. And I’ve never done anything like this before, so bear with me?”

He drew back a little. Good. But bad, too, because there was now a curious tilt to his lips, negating all the calm she’d regained by his moving away.

What the heck was she supposed to say now?

“Tomorrow night will work. But I have, um, a couple of requests.” She ran though the mental list drawn up after the previous evening’s online research. “We need to go across the bridge, into New York. We need to leave in separate cars, because I don’t want my family to know what I’m doing, and I know that sounds silly, but I’ll explain later. Once we’re out of town we can ditch one car in a parking lot somewhere and ride the rest of the way together. And when we get across the border...”

Oh, geez.
Now she was getting to the really tricky part.

Devilment glittered in his eyes. “Do you always think this fast, or have you been planning this?”

“If I admit to planning, will you still respect me in the morning?”

“A woman who knows her own mind and goes for what she wants is always worthy of respect.”

As long as he kept thinking that way, this might turn out okay.

“So don’t keep me in suspense. What happens when we cross the border? We go wild at the duty-free shop?”

Lyddie closed her eyes, then forced them open again. No hiding.

“Before we go to dinner, if you’re willing, we go to a drugstore to buy a do-it-yourself HIV test.”

Well,
that
sure wiped the smile from his face.

Lyddie wasn’t sure she had ever seen anyone’s jaw actually sag before. His eyes widened and he inhaled, short and sharp, before letting loose with a choked bark of something she assumed was supposed to be laughter.

“Okay. Well.” He huffed out a breath, much as she had when Ted told her she wouldn’t be getting a loan. “You know, I was thinking an ice cream sundae would be enough for dessert, but if you have other ideas...”

Okay, so she blew that one big-time.

“This is why I told you I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“What, exactly, have you never done? Dinner, or an HIV test?”

“Both. Either. I mean...shoot, I’d better just blurt it out, right? It can’t get any worse than it already is.”

“Backing up a couple of steps would probably be a better idea than saying anything new, at least for the moment. I need a second here to catch up.” He stepped around where she was doing her best imitation of a statue and cupped her chin in his palm. The slightest hint of a grin flickered across his face. “But if it helps, you might notice that I’m not running.”

The words and the touch managed to both soothe her and heighten the tension all at the same time.

“It’s like this. Starting next Tuesday, I’ll be alone for two weeks. I’m going to have a lot of extra time on my hands, and I was hoping, maybe, to spend it with you.” She gulped. “For, um, some mutually satisfying experiences.”

Silence.

Lyddie decided she’d watched him long enough. She’d kept her eyes open for the asking. Surely she didn’t have to watch while he debated how to get away from the strange lady.

“Let me get this straight. I want to be sure I’m not misinterpreting anything.”

All she could manage was a squeak or two. She settled for a nod.

“If I’m wrong, don’t hold it against me, okay? But it sounds like you just asked me to spend two weeks having sex with you.”

She nodded quickly before shaking her head. “Not all the time. Only at night.”

For the second time that afternoon, his laughter pealed around her. Since it didn’t sound derisive or disbelieving, Lyddie let herself relax just a little.

“I’m glad you cleared that up. Performance anxiety was starting to creep in.”

She felt the blush creep up her neck and spread across her face. Could she possibly bungle this any more than she already had?

“And the test is in preparation for this, uh...”

“Fling.”

“Fling. Right. You want a test so that starting next week, we could have a fling.”

“That’s about it.”

“Not that I’m not flattered, because I am. Very. I’m just a bit...let’s say, surprised.”

“Oh.” So much for those articles that made it seem like this was a regular prelude to intimacy these days. Betrayed by the internet once again.

Some of her mortification must have shown because he placed a tentative finger beneath her chin and raised her face to meet his gaze. “I have done them before. Don’t panic—everything was always fine, and like any good soldier, I’ve never gone into battle without a shield.” The corner of his mouth tipped up. “But I have to say, this is the first time I’ve had this conversation with someone I’ve only known a little while, biblically or otherwise.”

“But isn’t that the whole point? That we don’t know each other very well, I mean?” It seemed so common sense, so awkwardly logical to her—but then, she was seriously out of the loop. Maybe she was asking too much.

But no. Not when it came to protecting her kids.

“Look, J.T.” She decided that no matter what, she had to get something from this, so slowly rested her hand on his chest. He was warm and firm, slightly damp from the heat and utterly intriguing. It took a moment to unearth her thoughts from the layer of lust that had taken over once again. “I know this is awkward and presumptuous and about a million other things. And I do believe that you are conscientious about taking all the usual precautions. That’s not the issue. But the thing is, my kids have already lost one parent. I know it might seem kind of silly and over the top to you, but I have to be super careful.”

“Ah.”

How he managed to pack so much emotion into one syllable was beyond her. The slight hint of bemusement left his eyes. She braced herself for the pity she was sure would follow, but instead, all she saw was understanding and a most unexpected but still welcome respect.

“Okay. I get it. I see why this is so important to you, absolutely. I guess I would be asking the same thing if the tables were reversed.”

Oh, thank God.

“But now I have a question. Is this whole idea, this fling plan, because of me, or because of those things you said on your porch the night I brought Ben home? About you feeling like you were going to turn into your reputation?”

“I... Okay. A lot of it is because of me. I might not be able to change how others see me, but if I can change how I see myself, well, that has to count for something. Right?” She hesitated before deciding she might as well go for broke. “It’s also because every time I look at your mouth, I want to outline it with lemon pudding and lick it off, one inch at a time.”

“When exactly did you say your family was leaving town?”

Amazing how some things come back to you. Lyddie hadn’t heard that trace of desperation in a man’s voice in a long, long time, but she still recognized it as being a very good thing.

“The morning of the sixteenth.”

“I’ll make a note of that.”

Okay, that sounded promising.

“Well, I don’t expect an answer right away. You should probably think it—”

“Hang on.” He hesitated before running his hand slowly along her shoulder. For a moment Lyddie wasn’t sure what was happening. He didn’t want to start right away, did he? Then she realized he was tugging her hand up to encase it between his own. She hadn’t known how cold her fingers were until she felt the heat of his hands.

The shivers running through her at his touch, however, had nothing to do with temperature.

“Again, I’m flattered, Lyd. And humbled. And damned tempted. But—”

In that moment,
but
became one of her least favorite words in the English language.

“But?”

“I have a condition of my own.”

Okay, she could handle this. Maybe. “Such as?”

He ran his thumb back and forth across the back of her hand, making concentration all but impossible. “I don’t know you as well as I would like, but everything I’ve seen tells me you take your responsibilities—your promises—seriously.”

She tried to nod, but the slight roughness of his thumb was creating a friction that was difficult to ignore. All other tasks became secondary to encouraging the spread of that friction.

“Here’s what I’m saying. I don’t want you to feel obligated. I’ll run to the store with you tomorrow night, and I’ll do the test. But I know this is a big step for you. If you change your mind, I want you to know that it’s okay with me. I’ll live.”

Amazing how his words could be so reassuring and comforting while the simple stroke of his hand was enough to make her believe everything she’d ever heard about him being the baddest of the bad—in the best way possible.