The Big 5-Oh! (10 page)

When she sat down in the leather seat across from Jared, he smiled at her. She couldn’t help herself, and she beamed back at him.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, and she gulped around the lump in her throat.

“The truth?”

“Of course.”

“I was thinking that you always look like someone in a toothpaste commercial when you smile.”

Jared's laughter bellowed against the backdrop. “I think that's probably a compliment.”

“It is,” she reassured him.

“Do you want to know what I think of when you smile?” he asked.

“I … think so.”

“Every time you smile at me, from the first time in the terminal at the airport in Ohio, all the way to right now,” he said, “I’m reminded of that one moment each morning when the sun comes up for the first time.”

Liv swallowed again and just stared at him. She couldn’t even blink.

“Too much?” he asked, and as she gulped for a third time, he confirmed his own suspicions. “It is. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“You didn’t embarrass me,” she told him once she found her voice. “You stunned me.” No one had ever said such a lovely thing to her before. Not even Robert in all the years that they were married. Her smile had just been compared to a sunrise.

Is this guy for real?

In Liv's experience, which was admittedly somewhat limited when it came to men with pearly white smiles and glistening brown eyes, or really just men in general, those who said such romantic and wonderful things were certainly after one of two things: Sex, a lofty pursuit which would end in the ultimate thud of disappointment; or money, which would turn out to be about as fruitless as her bank account. Liv wasn’t poverty-stricken or anything, but cancer had robbed her better than any gold-digging man ever could.

“I’m not a drinker,” Jared told her when they were seated at the restaurant. “But if you’d like some wine—”

“Oh, no, thank you. I’m not a drinker either.” She hoped he wouldn’t laugh, but … “You know what I’d really love, though?”

“Your wish is their command.”

“A big, cold root beer.”

“You know what?” he said with a glint of amusement. “That sounds really good.” Glancing up at the waiter, Jared inquired, “Do you serve root beer?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Excellent. Two frosty mugs of it, my good man. And keep ’em coming.”

The waiter hardly cracked a smile, which made Jared and Liv both laugh right out loud, punctuating his exit.

Jared was such a lot of fun to be around, and once again Liv found herself wondering when the other shoe might drop.

If something seems too good to be true
, she thought,
it usually is
.

Perhaps this would be Liv's greatest birthday disappointment of them all. Finding out that Jared Hunt was flawed and deceptive beyond the façade of a dazzling smile and general perfection would leave pneumonia and broken bones and various birthday calamities strewn in the dust.

But she didn’t have to find out just then, did she? She could at least enjoy one early evening cruise and a seafood dinner with him before the shoe broke through the clouds and hurled out of the sky toward her.

“I’ve never been to a restaurant where you could arrive in a boat instead of a car,” she told him.

“I never had either before moving to Florida. The lifestyle takes some getting used to, but now I can hardly remember the bitter-cold winters of Chicago.”

“Cincinnati's not as cold as Chicago,” she admitted, “but winter is engrained in me. Of course, I was just shoveling out of two feet of snow a couple of weeks ago.”

“Give it time. The Florida sun will melt the memory away in no time at all.”

The waiter set down two mugs of foamy root beer on the table between them, and Liv opted for a straw.

Lifting his drink into the air, Jared toasted. “Here's to warm hearts and melted snow.”

“And forgotten frozen tundra,” she added with a grin.

“Ohhhh-ho-ho,” Jared hooted at first taste. “I haven’t had a root beer in ten years.”

“Ten years!” she exclaimed. “You poor, deprived soda drinker. I myself am a bit of a connoisseur. In fact, I can tell you that this particular brand of root beer was brewed on a northern slope … probably on a Tuesday …” She paused seriously and took a long draw from the straw, swishing the creamy liquid around in her mouth before swallowing for dramatic effect. “Barq's is my guess. 2009. It was a very good year.”

Jared snorted and then transitioned into a rich and resonant laughter that Liv thought almost took the form of music.

The waiter stepped up to the edge of the table, ready to take their dinner orders. Instead, Jared cast Liv a playful expression before asking, “Just out of curiosity, what brand of root beer is this?”

“Barq's, I think,” the fellow replied, and the two of them shared a laugh that excluded their waiter. “Is there something wrong with your drinks?”

“No, absolutely not,” Jared replied. “They’re delicious. Obviously a very good year.”

The poor guy didn’t quite seem to know how to respond, so he raised his pad and set his pen to it. “What can I get you?”

Liv let herself sink back into the leather booth as Jared ordered salads and a platter of peel-and-eat shrimp. She hadn’t had shrimp in such a long time and, as she glanced out the window at the emerald-green Gulf waters just beyond the dock, she realized this would be about as fresh as a seafood meal could get.

“Tell me about your life back in Ohio,” Jared invited her. “What do you do there? Aside from shovel snow, that is.”

“Well, I live next door to my best friend and her family. And I like to paint and sculpt,” she told him, absently pushing the straw in circles around the inside of her glass. “I work full-time in the operating room of a busy hospital.”

“A nurse?”

“Yes. Well, I was.”

“It's a little early for retirement, isn’t it?”

“Thanks for noticing,” she replied with a grin. “I think I mentioned the other night that I’d been diagnosed with cancer.”

“That's right. Was it breast cancer?”

“Ovarian.”

“Ovarian, and you’re all clear now?” he asked.

“I am.”

“That's quite a blessing. Ovarian is one of the rough ones.”

“It is indeed,” she agreed. “But … they’re all rough.”

“True enough,” he said thoughtfully, and then he narrowed his eyes at her and smiled. “I seem to recall something else you’ve mentioned, more than once. Something about a curse and a fairly significant birthday sneaking up on you.”

“Ah, yes. The birthday curse,” she replied just as the waiter set two beautiful green salads before them, and then dropped a heaping platter of cold shrimp on the table between them.

“Will there be anything else?”

“Not right now,” Jared answered. “Thank you.”

While they polished off every one of the little critters, filling an empty plate to overflowing with discarded shells, Liv proceeded to entertain Jared with the dark comedic tale of the string of annual disasters that had plagued her for most of her life.

Jared could hardly believe it when he glanced at his watch and realized they’d been in the restaurant for more than two hours. After the shrimp came a shared slice of key lime cheesecake and countless cups of decaf. And truth be told, when they made their way down the dock and boarded his Sun Runner, he wasn’t ready for the evening to end.

“I haven’t had such a good time with someone in a long time,” he told her, the boat skipping across the bay.

“Thank you,” she replied, and then she lowered her eyes, preventing him from searching them for a trace of reciprocation. “The meal was lovely,” she finally added.

Jared flicked on the stereo. The Michael Bublé CD was still loaded; he’d had it playing while he cleaned the downstairs cabin the previous afternoon, and it made a nice soundtrack against the low-setting sun and vibrant purple sky.

He glanced at Liv and found her swaying to the music, her full, red lips mouthing the words of the song as she stared out over the darkened water. The sun was a ball of fire on the horizon that set her short red hair ablaze in its reflection. She pulled her shawl around her shoulders and arms, and he noticed the creamy porcelain skin of her hands as she folded them in her lap.

Jared's gaze began moving beyond her to the ocean view when he did a double take. Beneath the knee-length hem of her
black dress, his attention was drawn to shapely legs, crossed at the ankle.

What in the world?
he thought as he took a closer look.

He wished he’d have darted his eyes away just a second faster, but Liv caught him gawking, and she followed suit. As she looked down at her own legs, she gasped, covering her mouth with both hands.

“What is that?” she cried, popping to her feet and running a hand over one bright orange, striped leg. “Jared, what is it?”

It looked for all the world as if she’d been spray-painted.

“I don’t know,” he said, grabbing a towel from the bench behind him and handing it to her. “Try this.”

She did, and nothing changed, and then sudden realization seemed to overwhelm her. Jared watched as she heaved a belabored sigh and dropped back down to the seat.

“I can’t believe this.”

“What is it?” he asked. “An allergy, maybe?”

“No.”

“What then?”

Liv looked up at him with dewy eyes and a crooked attempt at a smile. “It's bronzer.”

“Bronzer?”

“I bought it this afternoon,” she admitted. “My legs were pasty Ohio white, and I didn’t want to be embarrassed. I thought a little bronzer might …” She trailed off without finishing, and dropped her face into her hands.

Jared tried to keep his grin in check, but he couldn’t help himself, so he just lowered his head and angled his face away from her. Once composed, he rested his hand on her shoulder and patted it gently.

“I look like I was left out for a couple of months after a rain. I’m rusted!” she exclaimed. “This is so embarrassing.”

“This is not embarrassing,” he reassured her. “It's just another beauty product gone mad. It happens all the time. My nurse, Georgia, came in one Monday morning with hair as green as seaweed.”

Liv separated her fingers and looked at him hopefully from between them.

“I kid you not. She is a peroxide-bleached blonde, she got hold of some new product, and her hair went completely green. They couldn’t dye it back for a week, so she had to just wear that green hair. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she were Irish instead of Southern Belle.”

Liv snorted, then buried her face in her hand again as she giggled.

“Or if it had been March instead of July. She could have blamed it on St. Patrick.”

After a moment, Jared reached over and pried Liv's hands away from her face, and then pulled one toward him and planted a kiss on one knuckle.

“Besides, as long as it's not a jumpsuit you’re wearing by the side of the road,” he told her, “you look very nice in orange.”

Liv punched at him and chuckled.

“I’ve heard sometimes chlorine water causes the fake-bake stuff to fade,” he suggested. “Why don’t you come over for a coffee and soak your legs in my pool?”

“No. Thank you, but—”

“C’mon.”

It hadn’t taken much convincing, and Jared was thankful for a reason to remain in Liv's company a little longer. There was something about this woman, something he couldn’t quite label or explain to himself. She gave off a ray of light that warmed him to the core. He hadn’t even known he’d been cold.

The pool lights cast a pale ice-blue sheen on the water, and movement sent wavy lines of light across the surface. Jared strode toward her, tray in hand, as Liv perched on the edge of the pool, legs extended out over the concrete steps, rubbing them vigorously with both hands.

“Do you like cappuccino?” he asked.

“I do, but I can’t have caffeine this late or I’ll be up all night.”

“It's decaf,” he told her. “I have the same problem in my old age.”

“Hey. Did you just label me
old
?” she teased.

“No. I labeled me that way.”

“Oh, okay. That's all right then.”

“Hey.”

Jared rolled the hems of his trousers up to just below the knee, and then sat down beside Liv on the flagstone, the tray of coffee between them, both sets of legs dangling over the edge of the pool steps. The underwater light magnified the difference in their skin pigments; his suntanned legs looked as white as a starched sheet in the reflection, and hers were orange, like the top layer of color on a piece of candy corn.

“I’ve had a really good time tonight, Jared,” she said, and her voice was as soft and sweet as a lone flute playing in the distance. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Thank you for coming along,” he replied. “I’m glad to know you enjoyed yourself.”

“Aside from the whole orange leg thing,” she told him with an arched brow, “it's been perfect.”

“I told you. I think you look beautiful in orange.”

“It is my color,” she acknowledged, and they shared a smile as the now-familiar sweet citrus scent of her shampoo wafted by him.

Jared knew it was too soon, but he didn’t allow himself a moment to think it through. Throwing caution to the wind, he reached toward her and skimmed the line of her jaw with his finger, and then he drew her face toward his into a kiss. It was consciously soft at first, nothing pressing or too intrusive, just the momentary meeting of their lips. They parted for an instant, and then came together again. He wasn’t sure if it was his doing or hers, but they both leaned into one another, a nonverbal agreement from both sides of a magnificent and tender kiss.