
She stood rooted to the pavement, surprised as he took her hand in his large callused one. The last time he'd touched her was the night of Stacy and Marc's wedding when he grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the dance floor, after she turned down his first three attempts at asking her to dance. Finally, on his fourth try, she relented, more out of pity for the man than her need to dance. That night, with her hand in his, he'd slowly led her onto the dance floor before gently taking her into his arms. In that moment, she'd experienced a strange mixed bag of emotions---from excited, to safe and secure, to finally cherished. Her unexplained feelings stemmed from the way he'd been so patient with her all night, the way he tenderly held her against him, and how attentive he'd been. All of it seemed too good to be true. Too right---especially with someone so wrong for her.
Little did she know.
"Amber, you okay?"
She pulled herself together and swallowed hard as he turned and looked down at her with a questioning, lazy half grin on his handsome face.
"Yes...fine," she whispered, as she tried hard to smile and act normal when she felt anything but.
All this time, the perfect guy was right under my nose. How could I not see it?
I've Got You
by
Linda Engman
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
I'VE GOT YOU
COPYRIGHT © 2009 by Linda Engman All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com Cover Art by Nicola Martinez The Wild Rose Press PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com Publishing History First CHAMPAGNE Rose Edition, 2010
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
To my husband Peter for all his years of believing in me
She glanced around the popular French-style eatery and bar, craning her neck to look over the after-work crowd visibly enjoying their Friday night. And who could blame them? The Brick Station, with its preserved depot interior, soft lighting and piped in smooth jazz, had also come to be one of her favorite places to frequent on weekends. The classy, mood-setting establishment was her reward after working hard all week; she easily found herself relaxing and letting go of her day-to-day legal dealings the minute she stepped foot inside. And she couldn't help but soak up the atmosphere---the crimson brick walls stylishly adorned with modern artwork and railroad memorabilia, along with the crisp white table linens, china plates, and staff outfitted in classic bistro black and white apparel. She appreciated it all while enjoying the latest trendy cocktail with friends, during a girls' night out, or occasionally with a date. But tonight, she seriously wanted to be anywhere but here.
Tilting onto her tiptoes, Amber Bradley balanced precariously in her favorite four-inch heels, angling her head to the right to look past a group of businessmen deep in a conversation on sports. Their distinguished silk ties either loosened or long shed, they fired stats back and forth on the recent Detroit Lions football game. She moved her head a few inches to the left and ducked down to scan around three twenty-something females sharing a pitcher of mojitos. All this in an effort to locate her date.
Just my luck. She spotted him ten barstools and five women down from her, hanging on some redhead's every word. Typical.
When am I going to realize adopting a cat and staying home on a Friday night is the better option, instead of getting my hopes up, naively thinking each man who asks me out for drinks or dinner could be 'The One'?
She turned away and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror behind the bar, her adult female image reflected between the rows of pricey top-shelf liquor. It was an image that still caught her unaware on occasion. She forced herself to look again. Medium height at five-six, with long, highlighted honey-brown hair that rivaled any runway model's, makeup just right, outfitted in an expensive silk blouse and tailored skirt with pricy to-die-for ultra high heels, she was the consummate image of a woman who was successful, had style, and could take care of herself. But inside, she still felt like the kid no one wanted.
"Hey, it's every guy's dream---a hot chick holding two beers."
She pushed aside her ever-present shadowy demons and found herself reluctantly laughing as she glanced over her shoulder toward the familiar, gruff voice. She fully turned and smiled easily at Josh Craig, just like she always did when she ran into him.
"Hey, Josh. What brings you here tonight?" She shook off her pensive mood and handed him one of the foaming beers she'd held ever since her date abruptly disappeared.
He grinned warmly, readily accepting one of the drinks. "I'm just waiting for my date to show up. How about you? Since you're holding two beers, I take it you're not here alone?"
"No, I'm not. To tell the truth, I'm waiting for my date to remember me," she admitted, raising one delicately arched brow.
He took a long drink of his beer and eyed her closely with a guarded expression. "Yeah? Which one is he?"
"He's the one over there who got sidetracked by the redhead. But if you ask me, I think the guy has a classic case of date amnesia, typically found in males over thirty who are unwilling to commit."
He followed her lead and narrowed his eyes warily. He seemed to assess her date, and from his expression, evidently he couldn't see anything worthwhile about the jerk. A cold darkness lined his already gruff voice when he finally replied. "He looks like some kind of guy all right."
"You got that right," she murmured, surprised at his menacing tone. "Actually, his name is Ted, and he's a corporate lawyer when he's not trying to pick up women."
"Do they teach you how to be a jerk in law school?"
"Hey, take it easy. I'm a lawyer too, remember?"
"Yeah, and you're the only one who doesn't make me want to puke."
"I'll take that as a compliment...I guess," she shot back, adding in an unexpected laugh. No matter how hard she tried to deny it, Josh Craig always managed to crack her up in spite of herself. I actually find his crude and poorly timed humor appealing? Weird.
"Never had a woman complain yet about any of my compliments," he countered slyly. He lowered his voice and leaned closer to her, his mood lighter again.
She grinned and looked up into his warm brown eyes. "Is that so?" she taunted, liking how they could banter with one another on occasion. "Well, maybe you've never had a woman complain about your compliments because they're just speechless from your caveman charm. And now that I know your secret with women, I can't wait to tell my girlfriends the next time we have lunch together."
"You and your friends talk about me a lot?" he baited, not letting her get the upper hand.
She pursed her lips at him and knew that even as a high-profile defense attorney, she could never out-wit or out-talk him whenever they happened to run into one another. The man was an auto mechanic by trade and still managed to one-up her continuously. "Oh yeah, all the time. Let's see, the last time we all got together, I think we discussed your lack of taste in music, your fondness for dirty clothes, the way you swing the bat like a girl at softball games---"
"At least women are talking about me," he interrupted with a lopsided grin, obviously bulletproof against her teasing. "And what's wrong with listening to STP, by the way?"
"Oh, please!" she retaliated, and rolled her eyes in mock disgust at his taste in rock music, while a giggle threatened at his never-die attitude. At the same time, she found herself suddenly curious to know what brought him into her sphere tonight. Usually the man could be found parked on a barstool over at Hugo's Sports Bar, with at least three beers in him already. "Not to change the subject, but what are you really doing here tonight? I know you're waiting for a date, but this isn't exactly your usual hangout."
He shrugged carelessly and glanced around the densely populated high-end bar and dining room before looking at her again. "Marc and Stacy talked me into bringing my date here. They said the place had good food."
"Mmm, is that so?" she murmured, noncommittal on their mutual friends' suggestion. She guessed there had to be more to the story, since she doubted someone like Josh Craig would voluntarily come here with only that little prompting. It was more likely the man finally got a clue that there was a world outside of Hugo's Sports Bar. She'd also bet their joint friend Marc Haines had spelled out to him that women liked to go to dinner at a nice establishment with china and linens once in a while, versus burgers, beer, and a barstool.
He narrowed his eyes at her. "So, you like coming here or what?"
She nodded and appreciated how he never took his eyes off her while they talked, unlike most of her dates who barely even remembered she was along for the night. She had to give the man credit for that, at least. "Stacy and I meet here for lunch or drinks after work, and occasionally I come here with dates." Speaking of dates. She looked past his broad shoulder to a well-endowed young woman who'd just entered the restaurant. For some reason, the bleach-blonde hair and too-short jean skirt spoke J.T. Craig. "Don't look now, but I think your date just walked in. I would describe her as busty, blonde, and chewing bubble gum. Sound right?"
Looking uneasy, he shrugged. "I don't have any idea---it's actually a blind date," he confessed, before he turned and glanced over his shoulder toward the front entrance. "I wanted to pick her up at her condo, but she opted to meet me here instead."
Slightly envious of the other woman, she eyed him closely. "Oh, well that was sweet of you to offer, anyway." Unlike my date, who assumed I'd just drive myself and then wait while he tries to hook up with some redhead at the end of the bar.
"Yeah, sweet," he mocked, eyeing the woman.
She pushed her own troubles aside and glanced once again to the entrance. The woman was pretty, blonde, in her early twenties, and happened to look like all his previous dates. Since meeting J.T. a year ago, she'd been privy to viewing him out with other women, so she could tell his usual escorts a mile off. They were always nice, cute---with not a lot goin' on upstairs. She knew without a doubt his night would be filled with endless talk about past boyfriends, hair, and the mall.
"Guess I'm up," he announced, somewhat halfhearted, before he drained the contents of his glass. Clearly he knew what his night would consist of.
She smiled at his sullen comment. "Don't sound so enthusiastic."
He groaned in mock pain and placed his now empty beer glass on the bar, eyeing her as if he somehow wanted to call it a night already. "You gonna be all right here on your own?"
She heard the seriousness in his gruff voice and smiled with false confidence. "Yes, of course. My date will be back any minute."
"Well, you know where to find me if you need me, right?"
He caught her off guard with that one. "Oh, sure, right...thanks, Josh," she whispered, secretly taken with his old-fashioned offer.
He eyed her closely. "All right then, guess I'd better get on with my own date, I suppose. I'll see you around, Amber."
She grinned at his doomsday expression. "I'll probably see you at Marc and Stacy's housewarming party next weekend."
He narrowed his brown eyes and gave her another one of his warm, lazy grins. "You women have a party for everything." He sounded amused. "But I guess I'll be there all the same."
With that, she watched his tall figure walk through the crowded bar to the waiting woman, who giggled loudly on cue at something he said, then immediately hugged onto his arm as they made their way into the restaurant portion of the establishment.
At least someone's going to get lucky tonight.
With a long, deflated sigh, she turned away and placed her now warm beer on the gleaming mahogany bar top. She then straightened her back, signaled the bartender, and ordered an Apple Martini, what she'd originally wanted. Somehow Ted---her now MIA date---had talked her into having a tap beer with him instead. So much for that plan.
As she waited for her revised drink, she compulsively re-ordered the bar napkins into a neat stack and right angled a tray of drink garnishes, before she forced herself to turn around and glance through the crowded bar area again. Only this time, instead of looking for her no-good date, she found herself looking for Josh---and observed that he and the woman had disappeared out of sight. For some reason, the thought of him and that woman spending the evening together, and possibly sleeping together, sent an unexpected thread of regret through her. She supposed it was because he was such a nice guy, she could never understand why he continually went out with the wrong women. Granted the man was laidback, lacked any ambition whatsoever, seemed to always be recovering from a hangover, and had probably never heard the word investment---but he still deserved to date someone who had a little more happening in her life. Someone smart, witty, educated, who could still look reasonably hot.
Someone like me.
No! Not me. Not in a million years.
J.T. Craig? I must be nuts. The guy is perpetually covered in car oil and thinks having his date watch him play softball with a beer afterwards is a great night.
But the man is here tonight, and he's surprisingly cleaned up, dressed nice, looks like he finally got his unruly black hair cut, he's shaved for once, and kind of smells good.
All right, he did knock me for a loop when I turned around and found him behind me with that sexy grin on his face. It's no surprise the guy cleans up well; I suspected for the past year, after meeting him at Stacy and Marc's wedding, that the guy could voluntarily be civilized under all that car grease and coveralls. Even without any prompting from a woman or an excuse of a wedding, if he really wanted to.
But he still wasn't what she was looking for.
\*\*\*\*
The woman wasn't what he was looking for.
Yeah, good one. Just keep tellin' yourself that.
Josh turned the wrench another quarter turn and tightened the bolt into place, while all around him the noisy five-stall repair garage was busy with the usual Monday morning grinding, drilling, and loud, echoing clangs that by now had become background noise and second nature to his ears. So much so that he could easily block it all out.
Especially when he was thinking about a woman.
He tightened another bolt and leaned further into the car engine, at the same time remembering how she'd looked Friday night at The Brick Station. The way her long, silky, golden honey-brown hair had been tousled around her shoulders and down her back, those killer green eyes turning him on, how her breasts looked awesome all pushed up in that low-cut blouse, and how goddamned good she smelled every time she moved next to him.
Get a clue, jackass---the woman doesn't know I'm alive.
She never has and never will.
Amber Bradley was way out of his league.
He knew that from the first minute he laid eyes on her a year ago at Marc and Stacy's wedding. Smart, beautiful, and educated, the woman was all about her career and on the fast track to finding the perfect mate equal to her. So he told himself right away not to get any expectations of them ever hooking up. Hot, sexy, professional types weren't going to get involved with guys like him: working-class, blue-collar, everyday Joes who punched time clocks and looked as if they did by the end of the workday. Still, she was nice enough when they were around one another. But she was never going to see him as anything more than Marc and Stacy's mechanic friend from the wrong side of town. The upside of the situation was it had taken the pressure off---in the end, he could just be himself around her, since there was no way he'd be getting naked with her anytime soon.
Instead, she had it bad for jerks in three-piece suits. The woman definitely had a knack for picking the biggest losers to go out with, and the one on Friday night topped the heap. It was all he could do to keep himself from going down the bar, grabbing the guy by the neck, and tossing his sorry ass out the door. But he'd promised himself no more bar fights, so the alternative had been to take a deep, pissed-off, frustrated breath, grit his teeth, and wonder when the woman was going to wise up and start dating somebody who treated her right.
He finally finished the car engine he was working on, grabbed a shop towel, and wiped the ever-present brown oil and grease from his hands before he closed the hood of the vehicle, again thinking about the other night. Whether he was horny or not, his blind date just didn't do it for him on any level. For the first time ever, he'd turned down a female's offer to spend the night at her place. In all fairness, he had to admit the woman had done her best to get him interested throughout the evening. That was obvious just from the way she kept rubbing his thigh under the table at dinner and how she giggled at everything he said. She even suggested taking their date back to her place right after the bill arrived at the table.
"Hey, J.T.," Cooper called through the noisy garage, pulling him back to the present. "How was the date? Did Brenda live up to my description?"
He turned and eyed his coworker, Cooper Gerhardt, who was working on a pick-up truck two bays over. The guy was all heart, would do anything for a friend, and obviously didn't know how to keep his big mouth shut.
"Catch me at lunch." The last thing he wanted to do was reveal his less than stellar weekend to the entire garage, which consisted of three other mechanics who all looked more than eager to hear about his date too.
"Come on, J.T. Just give it up, man, and tell us if you finally got some on Friday night or not," Coop bellowed across the busy garage.
"Yeah, come on, J.T., it's been six months since your last date, man. Any longer and you won't know how to use it anymore," Hank Dodge added roughly, the ex-military mechanic offering his unsolicited opinion from under the lifted car he was working on.
Shane Mitchell, the very tall, younger newbie mechanic, couldn't help but add his two cents worth. "From what I heard, the dude never knew how to use it in the first place."
Not to be left out, Tom Melinski, the only married mechanic, chimed in, almost as if he were taking Josh's side. "Give the guy a break. With Josh's looks, it's gotta be hard to snag a woman."
Josh gritted his back teeth together. It was the usual Monday morning crap like it had been for the last ten years; working in the same dingy, cold garage, inhaling exhaust and oil fumes, while all the guys dished out a ton of bull.
"Obviously you guys didn't get any if you need to hear about my weekend," he threw back, feeling ornery.
He was answered with the usual chorus of denial and boasts from all the guys about how sex-filled their weekends were, while he diligently ignored them and helped himself to coffee over in the corner. He thought they were finally over digging into his weekend. But as usual, his buddy Cooper was unable to help himself.
"Come on, J.T.---just put us out of our misery and tell us if you got some on Friday night," Coop pleaded again, laughing along with the rest of the guys.
Josh finished loading his coffee with a ton of sugar and cream and turned to blast all the guys again. "Hold your horses, you bunch of asses. All right, do ya want me to give it to you straight up or with all the details?"
\*\*\*\*
Amber jumped at the rough sound of Josh Craig's voice as it boomed loudly through the murky, dirty auto repair garage. She'd obviously timed her visit at the most embarrassing moment possible. It sounded like all the men were waiting with baited breath to hear the sex-related details of the man's wild weekend.
Lucky me.
She squirmed inwardly, not sure what to do. Clearly, since he'd already seen her, there was no turning back. So she resolutely planted her bland courtroom smile on her face, walked into the busy garage, and hoped for the best. At the same time, she cautiously sidestepped around a red-tiered toolbox and gingerly stepped, with her expensive Furla pumps, over numerous power cords and air hoses strewn across her path.
"Details about your Friday night?" she questioned. "Well, I guess that depends on whether your date was short and sweet or long and sour?" She walked further into the building, noting that Josh was actually red faced, while the rest of the blue-uniformed men laughed at her smart comment.
"Hey, Amber." He grinned sheepishly at her as she approached. "What brings you in here this morning?"
"Well, besides getting an instant replay on your weekend activities," she teased, smiling helplessly since he looked so adorably humiliated, "I need my car fixed. Something is wrong with the front end. It's making a loud clunking noise when I turn to the right."
She watched as he grabbed another shop towel and wiped his still greasy hands. "What kind of car?"
"It's a Mercedes 320 C class."
"I'm not sure, but I'm thinking that sounds like a tie rod that may need some work, or maybe a ball joint."
She nodded and listened intently to his diagnosis. "Do you have time to work on it today?"
"Yeah, sure. We can probably get to it after lunch." He walked over to a messy service desk heaped high with rumpled paperwork and thick, heavy-looking auto parts books. Behind the counter were various haphazardly filled shelves containing car parts, more paperwork, and an old chipped coffee mug full of pens, along with the typical pro-hockey girly cheerleader calendar. He turned the appointment ledger around and glanced down the column for Monday. "No problem, I can even do it myself this afternoon. You got a way to get to work?"
Oddly enough, as he turned to look at her, she found herself holding her breath while experiencing a wild, x-rated burn through her whole body. At the same time, a hot, sweaty, tingly feeling shot down her spine---which was totally the most bizarre reaction to have.
Me and J.T. Craig?
The man was already covered in dirt and grime at eight in the morning and looked like he'd had one too many last night, but the feelings were there all the same. And she couldn't deny that he sort of looked hot and sexy this morning, despite the fact he hadn't shaved and was wearing his name stitched on his grease-streaked uniform shirt.
"Amber?"
"Oh---a ride to work? Yes, my assistant Brook is outside waiting for me," she blurted out, mentally shaking herself.
"Great. It'll be ready for you by five tonight. If it's anything more than what I told you, I'll call you at work and clue you in. And I'll send the bill to your office, if that's okay? So we're cool?"
She swallowed hard and tried to stay focused on the man's words, but for the life of her she was having a devil of a time, since all she could think about was how incredibly tall he seemed and how sexy his big, brawny neck and shoulders looked.
"Cool, then...right, send the bill to my office and I'll see you at five o'clock," she echoed stiffly, handing him the keys while schooling her features. She stood for a moment like a wooden statue, then finally ordered herself to turn and walk out, mechanically pulling open the service door. After she'd cleared it, she released a long-held breath from her lungs and at the same time told herself to grow up. Josh Craig was Marc and Stacy's mechanic friend, and she'd spent the last year oblivious to his presence.
But if that was the case, why was she suddenly salivating over the man?
Because I'm sex starved.
Because I'm tired of the same old dating routine.
Because he always gives me that deprived caveman look, the same one I've been ignoring for the past year, and now it's starting to grow on me.
She pulled open the car door of her assistant's green Ford Focus and slid into the passenger seat, willing the unexplained and downright scary feelings to evaporate as fast as they came.
I seriously need to find a boyfriend, and quick.
"Everything set?" Brook asked, starting the car engine before she pulled out of the parking lot of Fred's Auto Repair.
She glanced over at her younger, red-haired, fashionable secretary and was tempted to shout, Hell no! I've just had some kind of weird sex fantasy about some grubby hung-over mechanic. But instead she clamped her mouth shut on the subject of J.T. Craig and just murmured "yes" under her breath.
While they drove through the leafless tree-lined streets leading to her law firm, as she toted her things inside her brick office building, and still yet as she pretended to look over her first case of the day, the same thought replayed in her mind: how Josh Craig had looked so sexy and intriguing this morning.
It was positively weird. Creepy. Scary.
I'm totally losing it. All due to the fact that her date on Friday night had left a bad taste in her mouth, at least where polished, fast-track, ambitious business-types were concerned. Her ill-fated, two-timing date had finally opened her eyes to the possibility she would never find a man to fall in love with, marry, and have a family together. Not on this planet, anyway.
She pushed away the case file in front of her and instead turned in her cream-colored leather desk chair. She stared absentmindedly out her law office window, not really seeing any of the blustery November side street view. With her personal office situated towards the back of the building, she had exclusive viewing rights to the always serene side street, which on busy work days only managed a few cars passing and the occasional foot traffic---unlike the front of the building, located on one of Cedar Point's busy main streets. Yet this morning she found herself easily distracted by the quiet, snow-flurried view as she pondered not only her recent dead-end dates, but her birthday coming up in just a few months. Thirty-one. Didn't I just turn twenty-five? Hadn't she promised herself back then she'd be madly in love, married to a nice, dependable guy, with an adorable baby on the way by the time she was thirty?
Not that my single status is from lack of trying.
Painfully, she conceded to having already singlehandedly scoured the Detroit suburb of Cedar Point, Michigan for every unmarried, successful, business-minded male who was available. The dismal results of her potential husband search? She couldn't come up with one guy who could commit to anything more than coffee or drinks after work. Or if I'm lucky enough, dinner. They were the kind of men she met with the help of friends or through work---lawyers, bankers, investment brokers, all handpicked and meeting the criteria of her ideal husband: fast-track overachiever, financially secure, model citizen, appropriate background and education. Her dates easily met her expectations. Only she hadn't factored in one important attribute: an interest to get married. Forget about silly relationships or getting involved and committed---these guys were all about themselves. At least the ones she kept going out with, who left her feeling decisively cold towards any man in a three-piece suit.
So what was she supposed to do now? She'd already passed her projected timetable, and besides that, she wanted what other women seemed able to achieve---a relationship with a man. How hard is that? She was educated, smart, resourceful, but couldn't seem to figure out how to find an honest, dependable, lets-be-friends-and-lovers kind of man, who ultimately wanted what she did---love, marriage, and babies. Hopefully in that particular order.
It was no secret that ever since her childhood, the quaint, old-fashioned idea of falling in love, marriage, then finally babies had been planted in her stubborn head. No doubt due to the fact her childhood consisted of five foster homes, which created an unstable home life until she turned eighteen and set off for college. Still, the desires and longings were there all the same, even after all these years, for what she'd never had as young girl: a permanent life, a family to love, a stable home to share with a dependable, successful man who loved her. Am I asking for too much?
She sighed heavily and watched a pair of cardinals perched in one of the birch trees outside her office window. Naive. That was it. She was being totally naive to believe there was still a man left on this planet who'd want a traditional marriage and family life like she did. Not that she had anything against being a working woman. Granted, she loved her profession as a defense attorney, but after countless years of defending the same old criminals, bad guys, and not-so-reputable business professionals, she seriously found herself wanting to turn her briefcase in for a diaper bag.
She turned away from the window and the few snowflakes filtering down and reluctantly pulled the case file back towards her, trying in vain to concentrate on the client's information as a sudden flash of Josh Craig replayed in her mind. It was a treasonous image of him leaning on the bar at The Brick Station Friday night, looking definitely hot, hunky, and even somewhat dependable.
Come on. Mr. Right? Never in a million years.
Although she had to admit---again---how sexy he looked all cleaned up in that black suit coat, white shirt, and those faded jeans that fit him so well. She also couldn't complain about how he'd taken the time to shave and had his always unruly black hair trimmed and combed, which was kinda sweet and adorable when she thought about it.
Stop it right now! The man is just bad news and definitely not in the running for husband material. Get real. The guy could never support a family, since he can barely take care of himself from day to day.
"Good lord, was your date that good or that bad last weekend?" Stacy proclaimed, walking into the modern and stylishly decorated law office, while at the same time observing her best friend's odd expression.
Amber pushed away her very private, sexy-scary thoughts of Josh Craig and instead glanced up from her legal brief to see Stacy Haines. Cute, blonde, and perky, this morning the woman was dressed in a smart tailored gray vest and crisp white shirt, along with matching flare-legged trousers, and looked more like a lawyer than an interior designer.
"Please don't ask. Next question." She redirected the topic and closed the case file with a snap before pouring two aromatic coffees from the expensive fine china set her assistant had placed on her desk earlier. A little perk that Brook provided every morning.
Stacy laughed a married woman's been-there-done-that giggle, tossed her coat onto one of the beige leather client chairs, and perched herself on Amber's glass-topped desk before she accepted a delicate china cup of steaming French Roast. "Okay, next question. What did Josh's date look like?"
Amber shifted uneasily in her comfortable, high-backed chair. "Josh Craig? How did you know I ran into him on Friday night?"
"He was at the house yesterday watching the football game with Marc, and he mentioned that he ran into you at The Brick Station," Stacy relayed, swinging one leg back and forth as she did.
She raised a brow in query. "Did he say anything about my date?"
"Nope, and he didn't say anything about his either, even though I poked and prodded him every chance I got," Stacy admitted with a wide, gleaming grin. "Now it's time for details, woman. I need the 411 on his date so Marc and I'll have something to talk about at dinner tonight."
"What makes you think I paid attention to him and his date?'
"Come on, Amber, you're female. I know you did."
She smiled reluctantly. "Oh, all right, I was sort of watching them across the dining room when my date and I finally got around to having dinner. But remember, you didn't hear it from me."
Her BFF dramatically crossed her hand over her heart. "I swear never to reveal my source."
Pinned down, Amber straightened the pens lying on her desk into a uniformed line before picking up her cup of coffee, reluctant, but still hopelessly giving in. "Okay...well, she was pretty in a blonde cheerleader kind of way, bouncy, very happy, had a fondness for gum, and could talk nonstop right through their entire dinner and while downing one too many 'Sex on the Beach' cocktails."
Stacy's ever-present smile fell from her face. "Oh, no wonder the man didn't want to talk about it." Genuine sympathy echoed through her soft voice. "The poor man---it's been months since he went out with anyone, and that's all he could come up with? And he's such a nice guy too: sweet, hardworking, cute. He definitely has lots of potential with the right woman. I just don't understand why he can't find someone nice to date. Obviously he's been going out with the wrong kind of female. He needs someone a little more mature and grounded, yet spontaneous and fun, who would be willing to overlook his gruff exterior or at least be willing to polish him a little...someone like you."
Amber sputtered on her mouthful of French Roast and clanked her silver-banded china cup back onto the matching saucer. Josh Craig? What is it with that guy? "Earth to Stacy! I don't know if you've noticed, but Josh Craig and I are so incompatible it's like we're completely different species. I doubt we could even mate and reproduce."
Stacy responded with her usual soft, girly laugh. "That's good, Amber, I'll have to remember to tell that one to Marc," she quipped, taking a sip of her own coffee. "But seriously, what's wrong with the man?"
She quirked a delicate brow at her friend. "How much time do you have?"
Stacy grimaced back. "Can you tell me you've met anyone better in the last year?"
She shrugged; her friend made a good point. "No, I guess not." She couldn't lie, especially since Stacy already knew all the depressing details of her dating life. "But that doesn't mean I'm ready to take on someone like Josh Craig."
Brook Spencer poked her head in the door, momentarily stopping the conversation. "You finally met someone? Like someone normal?" she blurted out breathlessly, her crystal blue eyes wide with amazement. "Sorry for the interruption, but I couldn't help but overhear from my desk when you mentioned a man. Just please tell me this guy doesn't play racquetball or have a fake tan like the last two dozen men you've gone out with."
She made a face at her nosy assistant. "Could you make some more coffee, please?"
Brook rolled her eyes in reply before she disappeared out the door.
"So come on---tell me one bad thing about the guy," Stacy challenged, smiling over the flighty assistant's comments.
Amber tilted her head and didn't even have to think twice. "The man is ambivalent to the world going on around him, has no ambition whatsoever, continually has his butt parked on a barstool at Hugo's, always smells like motor oil, and just this morning when I dropped my car off to be repaired, I caught him boasting to all the guys about his hot date. Granted, he looked nice the other night, almost civilized with his hair cut and clean clothes on, but this morning it was right back to bleary eyed, scruffy, with his clothes already greased up by eight a.m."
"Really, don't hold anything back," Stacy mocked, crossing her arms in front of herself. "Did I ever tell you I hate it when you go all lawyer on me?"
Amber conceded with a shrug. "All right, maybe that was too rough. I admit the guy is really nice, funny, and actually looked kind of good Friday night, but other than that I can't see any redeeming qualities in him."
Stacy eyed her knowingly. "Is that so?" she baited, looking way too smug. "Apparently you haven't been looking hard enough. Or maybe you haven't been looking in his direction at all."
She quirked a brow in annoyance at her well-meaning friend. "As of eight this morning, the guy is my mechanic. That's the extent of our relationship, and I'd like to keep it that way, thank you."
Stacy slid off Amber's glass-topped desk and shrugged her shoulders. "Okay, but just remember---you're not getting any younger. And if you don't use it soon, you're going to lose it."
Amber made a disparaging face, since, oddly enough, Stacy had accidently hit on the same subject she'd been thinking about throughout the morning. "Was that your sole purpose of stopping by my office today? To remind me how old I'm getting and that I'll probably never find Mr. Right and that my sex life stinks? Or was there some other reason?"
Stacy pulled on her chic white wool coat and laughed easily. "All of the above, and to remind you of the party on Saturday night and to tell you I found a pair of paintings perfect for your foyer. I bought them over the weekend at a new gallery in Detroit. I'll drop them off today at your place, and you can see what you think."
She nodded in agreement, already knowing she would love them since Stacy knew her taste so well. In the past year, her friend had singlehandedly filled her newly constructed home with everything from appliances to paintings, in addition to outfitting her office with tailored, sleek pieces of furniture. Amber had no spare time herself for such an undertaking, since the law firm consumed most of her free time. "Sounds good, and I'll be at the party on Saturday," was all she had time to reply before Brook poked her head in the door again with a message.
"Amber, there's a man on the phone for you---J.T. from Fred's Auto Repair?" her assistant relayed before disappearing out the door again.
"Ohhh, maybe he's calling for a date," Stacy teased and raised a brow.
"Ohhh, I think he's calling about a tie rod," Amber countered as she shook her head at her friend's high-schoolish suggestion.
She reached for the phone and waved goodbye to Stacy before she pushed the flashing wait button. At the same time, she took a deep breath and pushed away a sudden nervous feeling. "Amber Bradley," she breathed into the phone.
"Hey, Amber, it's Josh. Just wanna let you know you need new struts and ball joints and someone to give you a good looking-over---and I can do it if you want."
She didn't know what was more disconcerting: the way his deep voice sounded so sexily gruff on the phone, which made her actually weak in the knees---or the way he sounded all purposeful and determined, which made her hot in all the right places. What she did know was that both things automatically made her think of something other than her car.
She straightened rigidly in her desk chair and forced herself to sound normal, at the same time trying to get her mind out of the gutter. She told herself it was there only because of her long dry spell concerning sex. "Oh...well, that sounds like a plan, Josh. Just go ahead and do what you have to," she bluffed, though she didn't even know what the struts and ball joints were or why they needed to be replaced.
"Good, because those parts are shot. Besides that, it looks like it's been a long time since any guy has had his head under your hood and personally taken care of things, so if you want me to give you the full onceover, I will."
She didn't know if she should laugh or cry at his offer. Now she wished she hadn't impulsively stopped at Fred's Auto Repair to get her car fixed this morning instead of taking the time to go across town to the Mercedes dealer. "Ah...yes, it's been a while...so just do what you have to," she replied, suddenly feeling warmer under her blouse and skirt.
"Great, because I really don't think you could go much longer without some guy giving you a good tune-up and some overall attention."
You said it, mister. That was her only thought as she shook her head, not sure how to reply out loud to his last declaration. "Okay, Josh." She had to think of a way to get off the phone before the man made her wilt onto the floor under her desk in a big lusting heap. "Guess I'll see you after work. Thanks again."
"Yeah, no sweat," he said gruffly into the phone before he hung up.
She replaced the receiver back into the holder and fanned herself with a file folder for a full minute, then angrily slapped it down onto the desk.
I seriously must be losing it. That was the only explanation for her reaction to Josh Craig this morning. It was either that, or she was experiencing some kind of weird hormonal shift this month. A bizarre primal need to find a mate that dated back to caveman times, when a woman had to find some male to procreate with before she expired at the ripe old age of thirty.
Determined to erase J.T. Craig's rough image and husky voice from her mind, she took a deep breath and set to work. Her schedule for any given Monday consisted of the same routine: reviewing cases, meetings, trips to the jail to bail out a client or to consult with one while they were being held, lunch at her desk, followed by time in court where she found herself defending others to the best of her abilities. A service which she billed and charged heavily for, with no one ever complaining about the large sums they had to forfeit, since her record was gold with wins. This, in turn, had made her one of the most in demand defense attorneys at a prestigious firm in Detroit, and now in Cedar Point.
In hindsight, the move and starting her own law office a year ago had been a good decision and a very lucrative one for her, since she was now making more money than she had at her previous position. And there was the added bonus of someday even switching to family law and taking on a partner, eventually working part-time after having a family. It had been an attractive idea when she'd decided to start her own firm and move from her high-rise and high-paced life in Detroit. It also helped that Cedar Point, in her book, was the best little Midwest town to raise a family in---a small town full of old-fashioned brick-lined streets, historic buildings, parks and lakes. So a change in her career and moving were a win-win for her.
As her day wore on, she finally found herself at her usual late Monday routine of squeezing in time for research and reading on previous trials to use as a defense in her pending cases. Her days were consumed with endless legal dealings, jargon, loopholes, and details that were of the utmost importance when she was focused on winning a case.
"Boss, there's a J.T. Craig here to see you," Brook called through the office intercom.
Caught up in her work, she hadn't realized just how late the hour had become until Brook's interruption. Sure enough, one glance out the window told her the day had turned into evening, with the time well past six already. It was also well past the time she should have gone to retrieve her car from Fred's Auto Repair.
"Thanks, Brook," she spoke into the intercom. "Send him in, please."
Refusing to worry about her appearance, she instead planted her usual 'Nice to Meet You' new client smile on her face and glanced up from her computer as he walked into her office through the already opened doorway.
Again, when she looked at him, she wasn't at all prepared for the strange way she suddenly felt.
\*\*\*\*
Josh stood just inside Amber's white-and-cream-colored, Please-Don't-Touch-Anything law office. He hesitated to advance any further, as her big green eyes were wide with guarded suspicion. For a second, he could even have sworn she'd thought of calling the cops on him. "Forgot about me?"
She gave him a guilty glance. "Truthfully? Yes. And I'm so sorry, Josh..." she apologized while rising to stand behind her desk, at the same time critically eyeing his just-from-work appearance: tan, unbuttoned heavy canvas work jacket, pulled over a ratty dark blue uniform jacket and shirt, dirty uniform pants, with work boots that had seen better days. Her nose wrinkled slightly. "...uh...I got sidetracked with a new case."
"Yeah? Well, are you ready to go now?"
"Go where?"
"Home?"
"But I have tons of work to finish yet...oh, no! You must want me to drive you back to the shop? I take it you drove my car here?"
He couldn't help but notice the woman looked momentarily freaked-out by the idea of them leaving for home together. That was a first---he'd never seen her anything but totally in control and sharply focused. "Yeah, your car is parked out front."
"So you need a lift then?" she offered again as she quickly powered down her computer.
"Guess so, if you've got the time?" He watched as she efficiently straightened her already neat desk and somewhat obsessively reordered her pens and pencils in separate glass containers. Nonetheless, she still managed to look way hot while being compulsive. He stood and eyed her closely. Tonight he also finally got to see what was under her fancy fur-collared coat from this morning. He was surprised to find her outfitted in some silky gold blouse with a body-hugging, brown-patterned skirt. Even at work the woman was feminine and sexy. He eyed her intently, liking the way her hair was always loose and kinda tousled looking, not twisted up or pulled back. Earlier this morning he'd found himself shredded over the way the post-dawn light made the gold in her hair glint against the brown. No doubt the woman would freak for real if he told her that her hair had looked pretty in the dingy morning light of Fred's Auto Repair Garage.
"Actually, if you could give me a lift to Hugo's, that would be great," he told her, reluctant to say anything more.
She looked up from gathering papers to shoot him a cross-examining glare. "Hugo's?"
With an inward wince, he shrugged and decided to confess; there was no other option available. "I kinda left my truck there last night and need to pick it up."
"Oh," was all she said to that one---she apparently assumed he must have tied one on good last night if his truck was still parked at Hugo's Sports Bar the next day. He could tell just by the way she looked at him what her thoughts were.
"If you don't mind. Or I can walk over there, I guess. Hell, it's not that far."
"No, I'll give you a lift---just give me a minute to get my things together." She answered with a curt tone to her voice and looked away, stuffing files into her briefcase now, obviously trying not to roll her eyes in disgust at how he apparently lived his life.
"Great, thanks," he grumped, suddenly frustrated. The woman's attitude was just the way she'd always acted towards him---totally turned off. I can't catch a break today. She automatically thought the worst of him. This morning hadn't helped either, with her catching him dishing out firsthand info on his nonexistent weekend, even though he would never tell the guys anything that private even if something had happened. He'd only wanted to torment the boys a little before admitting to nothing. That was, until he'd turned and found her standing inside the garage, all eyes and ears.
"There. I think I have everything." She snapped her briefcase closed and walked over to a small built-in closet to extract her coat, almost jumping as he came up behind her to help her with it.
"Here, let me." He took the coat from her and held it as she threaded her arms into it. At the same time, he got a whiff of her perfume like he had Friday night, which always made him silently groan with a pain/pleasure combo and fight the need to weakly drop to his knees.
"Oh...thanks," she murmured awkwardly, pulling her shiny thick hair out from the fur collar of her coat before she hastily moved away from him.
He trailed behind her as she grabbed her black leather briefcase filled with a boat-load worth of homework. Ugh. Better her than me, man. He waited momentarily while she thanked Brook for staying late; then he trailed behind her again through the sleekly designed reception area to the front entrance. Diligently he beat her to the door and pulled it open; she looked baffled that he actually had manners regarding females in general.
After another cautiously murmured "thanks" from her, they moved out and headed down the block to where her car sat parked out front on Third Avenue. In the mellow glow of the old-fashioned street lamps, they walked together without saying a word, her fashionable high-heels tapping on the sidewalks. The only other noise came from an occasional passing car, which was normal for Cedar Point in November. Most shops closed by five, leaving the good streets of Cedar Point desolate, with only a cold autumn wind, scattered leaves, and a dusting of snow for company.
In possession of her keys, he unlocked and opened the passenger door for her. She got in and automatically let him drive them both over to Hugo's on the other side of town. The quick ten-minute drive turned out to be awkwardly silent and filled with a strange tension. Which was a first---she'd always been talkative whenever they happened to run into each other, and he'd never lacked for something to say to the woman in the past either.
But tonight, it felt not only awkward but downright nerve-racking to be around her.
Out front of Hugo's, he parked her car and killed the engine. He sorta liked how they'd just driven through town together, even if the woman had been eerily quiet, unlike most females he dated who talked nonstop. He turned and glanced over to her. "Feel like comin' in for a beer?" He tossed out the offer from his side of the darkened car and waited. From the strange look on her face, he could tell she definitely hadn't expected the invitation; at the same time, she was clearly wondering what the hell he was up to, besides trying her best not to look too uncomfortable. Now he wished he'd chucked the idea the second he'd thought about it.
"Uh...I'll pass," she replied hesitantly.
"Hmph, well, maybe some other time," he gritted out, once again ready to seriously kick himself in the ass. Way to go, man. Wise up already. The woman isn't into you.
"I've got a ton of work to do tonight," she explained, not waiting for him to reply as she quickly got out.
While she maneuvered around the back side of the car, he groaned under his breath and dejectedly exited, then stood with the door open for her. He watched as she inched her way past him to slide into the driver's seat. After she got in, he planted one arm on the roof and ducked his head down to look into the car. "So you're going to Marc and Stacy's party on Saturday night then?"
With an expression of extreme caution on her face, she leaned back in the car seat and looked up at him. "Just for a while. I have a date lined up for Saturday night, so we decided to split the night between the party and whatever my date wants to do afterwards."
He worked to keep the kicked-in-the-gut feeling off his face. "Yeah, that's good," he answered grumpily, just as a thought occurred to him. "Your date's not that Ted guy from Friday night, is he?"
With a smile at his oddly suspicious-sounding question, she shook her head. "No, he's not," she admitted, leaving him hanging as to her date's identity. "Night, Josh."
He nodded and found himself suddenly speechless. "Yeah, see ya, Amber..." was all he could choke out, as he'd finally noticed he had a bird's eye view of her breasts. Her fur-collared coat was open and exposed her cleavage, revealing an awesome rack that looked mighty tempting to a guy who hadn't gotten laid in six months. "...and don't forget to buckle up and drive slow. The roads are slick tonight with that icy rain we got earlier this afternoon." She nodded with a placating smile before he finally gave in and slammed the car door shut.
He watched her drive away and cursed himself out again for hitting on his best friend's wife's best friend. A woman he knew he had zero chance with and who now probably thought he was lame and hard-up, besides being in need of some mental help.
With defeat ringing loud and clear in his head, along with another part of his body, he turned and walked up the steps to Hugo's Sport's Bar. He opened the door and entered the all-too-familiar establishment that was like a second home to him. Inside the old tavern-style watering hole, the usual greeted him: the ever-present aroma of grilled burgers, pizza, and tap beer, along with the drumming beat of rock music, mingled with the sounds of the after-work crowd playing pool and generally blowing off steam from the first day of the workweek.
In the hazy, filtered light of the bar, he took his usual stool and plunked down onto it as he reached for his wallet. He slapped down a twenty to get Joe the bartender's attention, then ordered himself a tap beer and two burgers. At the same time, he wondered if this was the way his life would always be---having dinner alone on a barstool in some dimly lit, smoky dive bar.
"Hey, buddy, see ya got shot down again," Cooper Gerhardt proclaimed, for anyone in the tri-state area to hear, as the guy came through the front door.
Josh turned to see his so-called buddy slide onto the stool next to him with nothing less than an evil grin on his face. "What the hell are you talkin' about?" he grumped, not in the mood for the same old give and take the guys from the garage usually dished out to one another.
"Just saw that hot chick from this morning dropping you off while I was parking down the street," Cooper explained, signaling Joe for a tap beer and a couple of burgers at the same time. "And I also saw you working to angle a night out of delivering her car to her. Nice work, buddy. Too bad the woman was smart enough to tell you to get lost."
He took a long swig of his beer and eyed his coworker through narrowed slits. "Didn't you get enough jabs in this morning after she left the shop? What is this? Round three?"
"Hell, seeing you crash and burn like that is just too good to pass up, bro." Cooper laughed with a trace of malice and shook his head. "I still can't believe you know a woman like that and haven't hit on her before this. A year, man? What the hell is wrong with you? I would have at least tried a few hundred times before admitting defeat with that one."
He gritted his back teeth together in frustration, damning his rotten luck at having Cooper see him die a slow death with Amber Bradley, especially after all the crap the guys threw his way this morning after she left the shop. All the deprived, dirty-minded mechanics had immediately jumped all over the fact he obviously knew the woman, then drilled him for details about her until he finally caved and gave them the bare bone facts: big-time lawyer, friend of his best friend's wife, thirty years old, single, and he met her a year ago at his buddy Marc's wedding. All of them had been totally disgusted that he didn't have the guts to make a move and hit on her---even though they all agreed he wouldn't have a chance in hell with her even if he did.
But that didn't mean crap with the guys, who still thought he was a wuss for not even trying.
"Not that you need to know my business, Coop, but I wasn't hitting on the woman," he snarled defensively. "I just asked her if she wanted to come in for a beer. We're just friends-through-friends. That's it. She knows it, and so do I."
Coop laughed without humor this time. "No man with working equipment can just be friends with that woman," he hit back.
J.T. eyed his coworker. There was no doubt about it: Cooper Gerhardt never found a woman he could resist making a move on. And granted---for some strange reason---women always found his outdated brown shaggy hairstyle and matching mustache, massive ego, and tough ex-pro hockey persona oddly appealing. Which left the guy with a king-sized opinion of himself. So he could see where Coop was coming from. On the other hand, he definitely knew his own limitations concerning females, unlike the never say die Cooper Gerhardt.
That left him to painfully acknowledge upfront that all he would ever be to Amber Bradley, besides Marc's and Stacy's friend, was her mechanic.
He shrugged without care. "Yeah, well, this one is different. I knew from the first time I met her where the line was drawn. Her world is all about careers, making money, wine, classy stuff all around. Not exactly my kind of world."
"You're chicken shit." Cooper voiced his opinion and smirked heavily while he finished his beer.
"What the hell does that mean?"
His coworker slammed his empty glass on the bar and signaled for a refill. "You're scared, buddy."
"About what?"
"Asking the woman out for real."
"That's a bunch of bull. You're so full of it, man."
"Yeah, you're scared all right."
"Yeah, well, you ask her out then."
Cooper gave him his usual smartass know-it-all laugh. "All right, maybe I will," he bluffed.
Josh ground his jaw. "Do it and die, ya SOB."
"Just what I thought," Cooper concluded, laughing still. "You've got it bad for the woman."
He steamed inwardly. Not only was he frustrated tonight, courtesy of Amber Bradley, but also humiliated thanks to her. This night is just getting better and better.
Joe pushed their baskets of burgers and fries at them from across the bar, thankfully creating a ceasefire on the topic of women, as they both called a halt to devour the food without speaking a word. They shoveled in the grilled sandwiches like they hadn't both consumed massive plates of takeout Mexican food at lunch. There was no denying Josh liked the fact that he worked hard, played hard, and could still eat like he was sixteen without putting on any fat. At least there was something to be said about working a labor-intensive job.
"Hey...," Cooper started, pausing to swallow his mouth full of burger. "...thanks, man, for getting me home last night and bringing my truck to work this morning. I owe ya one."
He nodded and shrugged. "No sweat---forget about it." At the same time, he knew his friend owed him about twenty 'I owe ya one's.'
Cooper eyed him remorsefully. "Yeah, well, sorry, man, if I was a hard ass about you driving my truck and making you leave yours here last night. Swear you won't have to do it again."
"Doesn't matter, bro," he replied---he didn't care that he'd left his old beat-up Chevy truck out front of Hugo's all night. He was only concerned over the fact this was becoming a habit with Coop. The guy had some kind of personal problem he didn't want to deal with, and sooner or later it would surface; but for now, he would just have to cover his buddy's back until Coop was ready to lay it on the line.
They were just finishing the last of their dinner when Shane Mitchell came through the door, looking all hyped up with something to say. Josh always thought the newbie mechanic was like some perpetual teenager who refused to grow up. The twenty-one-year-old could text some girl, talk nonstop to the guys in the shop, and rewire a car's complicated electrical system all at the same time---all on a couple hours worth of sleep, with a mean hangover thrown in most days.
"You guys are never going to guess what's goin' down back at the shop tonight," Shane announced, as he took the stool next to Josh and ordered himself a beer at the same time.
Coop took the bait. "Yeah, something happening?"
Shane took an extra-long drink of his tap beer before he finally nodded. "Get this. I went back to work on my car, since the transmission is acting up again...anyhow...Old Fred was there walking around with some guy. Guess he's a realtor. Old Fred is selling out. When I left, there was a FOR SALE sign out front and one in the shop window."
Josh felt as if his barstool had just been pulled out from under him. Like before, his day was just getting better and better. "Is this for real, kid, or some crap you're spitting out?" he growled, not in the mood for games tonight.
"Dude! No shit. Old Fred is finally cashing in and selling out," Shane swore truthfully. For once, the guy didn't sound anything but dead serious.
Josh felt his blood begin to boil at the kid's solemn sworn oath. For the last ten years, he'd singlehandedly ran the shop for the old man, and now the guy couldn't even give him a heads-up that he was gonna be unemployed and out on his ass looking for a job. "Great. As if this Monday didn't suck enough," he grumbled under his breath.
"You're viewing it wrong, man," Coop countered, leaning on the bar to eye him closely, with a slap on the back added in. "This is so cool. Look at the possibilities, J.T."
He didn't like the way Cooper Gerhardt was looking at him. Whenever the man got that look in his eye, it meant there was going to be trouble, lots of it, with the guy always managing to pull him into some kind of altercation, hockey fight, or a brawl out back of some bar. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Cooper grinned with a conspiratorial quality. "All I have to say is...when do I start, Boss?"
Feel like comin' in for a beer?
It had been five days already, and she still didn't know what the man meant by that one question, given that it could mean any number of things.
The guy was just asking me to come in for a friendly drink.
The guy was hitting on me, but not really seriously hitting on me.
The guy was just taking pity on me, since he knows I have no luck with men.
Frustrated, not to mention confused, Amber strolled the narrow aisles of Cedar Point's SuperMart grocery store, mindlessly tossing items into her squeaky shopping cart, while at the same time pondering her J.T. choices. She sighed heavily. Where was a good jury panel when you needed one?
She placed two jars of peanut butter into her cart and wished she could just turn back the clock and say 'yes' to his offer to see how things would have played out. Oh, grow up. J.T. Craig's idea of a good date is one who's busty, bleach blonde, and brainless.
For what it was worth, she had reasonably full breasts; plus, her hair was a nice, natural honey-blonde/brown color, and it wasn't like she carried her briefcase and spouted legal jargon on dates. Why am I even worrying about what could have happened? Besides, who cares if I'm his type or not? It's not like I'm attracted to the man.
She stopped pushing her cart and conspicuously straightened and realigned a shelf of imported olives. If she was on the witness stand right now, she could be hauled off to jail for lying under oath. Oh, all right! The guy is kind of hunky, and I like how courteous he is, and it was sort of sweet how he was worried about me driving home on the slick roads after I dropped him off at Hugo's Monday night.
All the way home, his protective concern had sent a warm, sheltered feeling through her. The next day at work, she'd found herself comparing him to all her recent dates. Who just happened to be guys who never opened a door for her, let alone worry about her driving home after meeting them somewhere for dinner.
If she wanted to be truthful, it wasn't just Tuesday morning and today that she found herself obsessing over him. He'd continually popped into her mind over the past week, ever since she'd laid eyes on him outside Hugo's neon-signed bar front.
Peeved, she pushed her cart through the baking aisle, where she loaded up on extra ingredients. She had to get a move on with her errands. She'd already wasted too much of her Saturday morning thinking about Josh Craig, besides neurotically reorganizing the olive section. All because she expected to run into him again tonight at Marc and Stacy's housewarming party.
Anxious about seeing Josh Craig? Ugh! He's just a man. So get over it, already.
At the checkout, she hustled her things through the line and was out the door in record time, purposely avoiding too much chitchat with the long-winded checkout ladies who seemed to be Cedar Point's main line of communication. If a person wanted to know what was going on in town or wanted to get the word out on a certain topic, the good ladies of the local SuperMart were your best bet. She'd found out the hard way after moving to town to keep the details of her private life to herself or live to regret anything she told the green-smocked women.
On her way home, she detoured into another neighborhood and pulled up in front of a traditional two-story older home, complete with big oak trees and just-raked piles of leaves coated with frost and highlighted by the morning sun. She cut the engine and was barely out of the car when the front door opened, releasing a five-foot-tall burst of energy that bounded across the porch, down the front steps, and over the leaf-strewn sidewalk to greet her.
"Amber, I've been waiting for like ten hours," the young girl shouted. She ran up to her and automatically threaded her arms around Amber's middle in their usual tight-hugged greeting. "Hey, I like your jean jacket and your zip-up hoodie. It's so cool with the fur trim on the hood. Those flare jeans are sweet too."
Laughing at the girl's monologue, Amber hugged the eleven-year-old warmly. "Thanks for the thumbs-up on my new hoodie, sweetie. Did you have a good week at school?"
Katie Kaminski nodded her strawberry-blonde head, smiled, and looked up at her with big blue eyes. "Yep, I scored a hundred percent on my science test and three extra points for answering the bonus question."
"Great, honey, keep up the good work," she encouraged, amazed and extremely proud of how far the girl had come in the last year with her schoolwork.
"Can we go to your house now and bake cookies? Ellen said I could go as soon as I finished my homework for the weekend, so I was up early to get my poster finished. It's about Arctic seals. I had to print out pictures and information from the web, then cut the stuff out, and then I glued it all on a big board. Wanna come and see?"
Katie's enthusiasm was infectious. Amber laughed, wishing she had as much exuberance on a Saturday morning as the young girl. She was forced to spend most weekend mornings at her office catching up on paperwork, except for the times she met with Katie, her 'Buddy' from the 'Foster a Buddy' program.
She'd first learned about the program through Child Services when defending a pro-bono case involving a teenager a few years ago in Detroit. Her interest was piqued after she found out that each child in the program came from a foster home and was in need of a little extra attention from a mentor who had been a foster child. After going through the extensive screening process, she'd been assigned to Katie following her move to Cedar Point. Immediately they bonded over shopping, crafting, baking, trips to the park, or just days hanging out together, and each considered the other to be the sister she'd never had.
She smiled and held out her hand. "Sure, but first we have to go and tell Ellen I'm here." Together they made their way up the sidewalk and across the porch laden with patchwork scarecrows, hay bales, and pumpkins, and complete with fall wreaths hung on either side of the front entrance.
At the door, Katie ran inside ahead of her while Amber trailed behind. Once inside, the warm, comforting aroma of banana bread greeted her, as the tantalizing scent wafted through the equally homey interior.
"Ellen, I'm going over to Amber's now," Katie announced, shouting her request through the house.
Amber closed the front door against the autumn chill and shook her head at Katie. "Ladies don't shout---we politely speak face to face."
"I second that idea, young lady." Ellen Bergstrom came into the living room from the hallway that led to the kitchen. The forty-something woman was outfitted in jeans, a sweatshirt, apron and flour-covered hands. "Morning, Amber. My goodness, I can't believe it's the first Saturday of November already. When Katie told me you were scheduled to pick her up this morning, I couldn't believe it. Where is the fall going to?" she asked, sounding perplexed.
"I have no idea. Pretty soon it'll be time to do Christmas shopping," Amber countered, always appreciating the other woman's cheery attitude.
Ellen grinned ruefully and shook her blonde head. "Don't remind me."
"Amber, can we go Christmas shopping together this year at the big stores in Detroit?" Katie pleaded as only an eleven-year-old could. "All Cedar Point has is the dinky little mall."
Amber exchanged looks with Ellen that said both women were in agreement before turning to answer Katie. "I don't see why not," she agreed easily. "Let's plan that for our December Saturday."
"Sweet! I can't wait to tell my friends at school on Monday." The girl beamed, appearing more than happy about the adventure to look forward to.
Katie's never-ending enthusiasm also reminded Amber just how she had been at that age: all braces, braids, freckles, and eager for anything new and exciting to happen in her routine life of foster care. Still, she'd been very lucky---her many sets of working-class foster parents had all been very loving and giving. When she looked back, she now realized they'd provided her with as many opportunities as they could, besides also giving her good life lessons, sharing family traditions, and teaching her the basic skills she needed to make it in the world.
"But for now, we'd better get going and get our cookies baked. I have to bring you back by five since I have a date and a party to go to. Maybe you can help me pick something out to wear?" she tempted, knowing Katie's affinity for clothes and fashion.
"No problem," Katie quickly agreed. She ran to get her coat from the hall closet, leaving Amber momentarily alone with Ellen.
"I'm glad we have a minute to chat, Amber," Ellen said, in a lowered voice. "I was wondering if you know anyone who would be able to take on and mentor one stubborn, hotheaded sixteen-year-old? Bob and I can't seem to get anywhere with Dillon. He's been with us for the past six months but refuses to participate in anything we do. All he wants to do is work on his car and stay in his room when he's not begrudgingly eating meals with us. The boy refuses to get involved with any school sports or even get a job. We're at our wits end."
Amber listened intently as Ellen Bergstrom explained the dire-sounding situation between her husband, herself, and their recently added second foster child, Dillon Lange. As Amber had already heard lots about him from Katie over the past months, there was no doubt in her mind that the tall, sandy-blond, long-haired teenager was definitely a handful, with his hell-on-wheels attitude and world-be-damned way of looking at everything. The boy, without question, had to be hard to handle even for the most saintly foster parent.
"I'm not sure." Off the top of her head, she really didn't know anyone who could tame, let alone mentor, a youth so far gone already. "Let me think about it."
"I'm ready," Katie interrupted, with her coat and a sparkling bag strapped over one shoulder.
"Cool purse," Amber proclaimed, truly loving it.
Ellen gave Katie a hug as the girl beamed a smile. "I told you she would like it, Ellen."
Amber opened the front door. "Come on, Miss Fashion," she teased. Both said their goodbyes to Ellen before heading out to the car, then driving the short distance to Amber's newly constructed home.
At her house, the two of them unloaded her groceries and put everything away in her seldom-used gourmet-style kitchen. After a lunch of tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches---Katie's favorite---the two used the time to catch up on what Katie had done in school for the past few weeks. They also shared the usual girl talk about clothes, movie stars, books and music while content to mix and bake a batch of peanut butter cookies together. Afterwards, they finally found themselves ensconced in Amber's pink-and-white French boutique-inspired closet.
"So, don't you think you should wear the little red chiffon dress?" Katie voiced her very definite opinion as she trailed a finger along the neatly hung row of dresses. The girl scrutinized the inventory of the chic walk-in closet with a keen eye. "I like that one the best."
Amber looked more than doubtful at Katie's selection. Good lord! The Love Tease number? She took the sexy garment out and held the wispy, thin-strapped, cabernet-red cocktail dress at arm's length. Admittedly it wouldn't be too over the top for her date tonight, since her evening with Tyler Harris, a doctor and newly acquired neighbor, no doubt would be upscale and take place at one of the latest edgy nightclubs or pricier dining spots in nearby Detroit.
And would be predictable, boring, and typical.
She wedged the naughty looking dress back between two other cocktail dresses, now regretting how quickly she'd accepted his offer when he'd cornered her in the backyard last weekend, while she was raking leaves. Sure... Sounds like fun... What time? Ugh. What was I thinking? Hadn't she learned her lesson? She was still smarting from her last date. Now she wished she could just hide out at home in her sweats tonight---and avoid Marc and Stacy's party. Besides that, she wished she could steer clear of Josh Craig. The mere thought of seeing him so soon after Monday night seemed too creepy, since she'd done nothing but fantasize about him all week.
Strangely enough, she still felt somewhat remorseful for shooting him down so quickly.
Weird.
She shook herself out of her daydream and determinedly looked over her dress selections again. "Maybe the blue, long-sleeved knit-jersey dress would be a better selection." She wasn't sure she wanted to show up at Marc and Stacy's in some naughty-looking number, especially when a certain auto mechanic would no doubt be there. For the first time in a long time, she felt self-conscious and just a little nervous when anticipating the evening ahead.
Katie made a scrunched-up freckled face at her selection as she picked up a bottle of perfume off the built-in bureau and dabbed some Mademoiselle Chanel on her wrist. "That one? It looks kinda old. Don't you want to look nice for your date? You don't wanna scare the man away, do you?"
Amber eyed the preteen. "Have you been talking to my friend Stacy lately?" She was only half joking, since the girl sounded just like her very own BFF.
"No, and you're getting off the subject," Katie redirected, sounding very lawyer-ish, as she tried on a pair of Amber's black crepe chiffon Christian Louboutin heels. "I've never dated, but I would want to look hot if I was going out."
"What do you know about being hot, young lady?"
"I hear the high-school girls on the bus always talking about looking hot for their boyfriends," she stated innocently, while attempting to walk in the mega-expensive four-inch heels. "Is this a date or a boyfriend?"
Amber quirked a brow, thinking Katie Kaminski had a future as a defense lawyer. "Just a date."
Katie looked down at her feet as she teetered unsteadily across the plush white carpet. "So, why don't you have a full-time boyfriend?"
"Good question." She asked herself the same thing every weekend. "Truthfully? I guess it's because I can't find one I like."
"Really? That's sorta depressing."
"Thanks a lot, and for your 411, young lady, I've had some long-term boyfriends in the past."
"So why didn't you marry one of them then?"
A flash of her lanky college grunge boyfriend, complete with long hair and guitar, materialized in her mind, along with her post-law-school boyfriend, who had been an accountant and who never happened to smile or get a joke. "Umm, well, they didn't exactly turn out to be husband material."
"I've read somewhere that you usually find one when you least expect it," Katie informed her. She haphazardly kicked off the sexy-looking heels and started looping bracelets onto her wrist.
Amber picked up the discarded shoes and lovingly placed them back in their shoe cubby above her dresses. She couldn't believe she was getting dating tips from an eleven-year-old, and that they actually made sense. "How old are you, missy?"
"Old enough to know you need a boyfriend, or better yet, a husband to share this big house with," Katie announced with a mischievous smile, jingling numerous Charlotte Russe silver and pearl bracelets on her wrist.
Amber laughed readily; there was no doubt little freckle-faced Katie Kaminski was headed for a future in law, or as an advice columnist. "Thanks for the info, sweetie. I'll take that under advisement."
"You're welcome," Katie stated, very self-assured. She then picked up Amber's Victoria's Secret fluffy pink puff and dusted herself while a cloud of the intoxicating powder filled the luxurious closet.
Amber waved her hand in attempt to clear the air as she grinned and coughed slightly. "D...Don't mention it."
Only after fully scanning the fashionable contents of her closet together, then O/C-ing it back into order, did they finally pack two dozen peanut butter cookies in a plastic container for Katie to take home. At the Bergstrom's, Amber dropped Katie off, but not before first having to see her school project poster, then make plans for their next Saturday together. Katie even made her swear, with her right hand raised like a witness in court, that they would do the Detroit shopping trip next.
Back at her house, she pulled into the drive and parked her car in the detached garage. She exited the garage, closed the automatic overhead door and stood back, looking over the home in front of her. Constructed of wood and stone, with lots of large windows, it was warm and inviting with an updated avant-garde feel. It was everything she had ever dreamed about and wanted in a family home. Yet it always seemed unfinished somehow. She regarded the low-slung contemporary structure with a critical eye. She'd left a few living room lamps on before leaving to take Katie back---she loathed coming home to a dark house. In the cold gray twilight, her home radiated safety, comfort, and love to those not looking too close. She found it painfully ironic that she could find people who could design, build, and outfit the perfect home for her, while at the same time she had no ability to find the perfect mate to share it with, someone to complete what she'd started here with this domestic facade.
Alternatives? She'd already combed her resources of friends, neighbors, and peers at work for dating options. Unfortunately, not one of the men they suggested fit the perfect husband profile that was imbedded in her mind. Online dating? Matchmaking services? Stubbornly, she wasn't quite ready to admit defeat over finding a man the old-fashioned way.
She let herself into the foyer, closed the front door, and neatly hung up her jacket in the adjacent closet. She turned and viewed the two large paintings Stacy had placed in the entryway. One was hung on the outer stone wall next to the frosted glass front door, the other suspended on a wall in the hallway that branched from the foyer---a particular wall space that Stacy had insisted on painting a deep reddish bronzy color. She remembered almost having a fit until she saw how warm it looked viewed from the living room and dining area and how it picked up the accessorized pieces in her home. The entryway paintings also continued the feel, each work of art portraying a modern street scene in Paris, with the rich colors of the cityscapes echoing that of the accents in her home. They also balanced out the bisque-ivory color of the micro-suede upholstered pieces of her living room furniture. Not only did the paintings reflect the interior, but Stacy must have known they would also remind her of her last trip to France. A trip she had put off for a long time. One she'd eventually ended up doing solo.
Just like everything she did in her life. Solo.
A hot sting of tears threatened. I refuse to cry over this. My life is good. Right?
From years of practice, she used her hard-earned mental reserve and shook off her depressing thoughts. With fortitude, she redirected her mind and decided to put bad-girl Lily Allen on her MP3 docking system. She cranked up the volume before making a path back down the hall to her all-cream decorated bedroom. Reluctantly she bypassed her four-poster bed, though she wished she could just curl up on it tonight in her pajamas with a dish of brownie chunk ice cream and watch Danny Boome on the Food Network. Instead she forced herself back into her chandelier-illuminated closet and found herself again contemplating---alone, this time---what to wear tonight. She released a long sigh, stood back and eyed her neatly arranged row of party dresses hung to one side of her walk-in closet, with matching to-die-for heels of all varieties stored above in allotted cubbies. She groaned unappreciatively and turned to eye her favorite jeans and well-washed pink T-shirt folded neatly together. Does it really make a difference what I wear?
Absolutely.
Oh, what the hell. She purposefully closed her eyes, reached into the row of cocktail dresses, and blindly grabbed one.
\*\*\*\*
Josh ground his jaw together; the defined muscles of his unshaven face flexed tensely as he leaned his faded Stone-Temple-Pilots-T-shirt-and-jean-clad frame back against a bookcase. He took a long drink from his bottle of beer and made a narrow-eyed sweep of the housewarming party that consisted of fresh flowers, champagne, weird music, fancy eggroll things, and way too many smelly candles. Not exactly his scene, but he could usually suck it up and get through a night like this whenever Marc and Stacy invited him to one of their fancy parties. But tonight he wasn't in the mood to talk, drink, or party with this crowd. He also wouldn't make it through the night, no way in hell, not with her looking like that.
Couldn't the woman have worn something with a back and something that covered up those long legs of hers?
He eyed Amber Bradley again, along with her sport-coat-wearing date, where they stood rooted together over by the fireplace. He'd been dying at the sight of her since she'd walked in. In the past, he'd never objected to finding himself leering at her---he'd basically done the self-torture thing whenever he laid eyes on her, and enjoyed it in a sick, self-defeating way. But for some reason, tonight was different. Maybe it was the fact that she was currently half-naked and her date looked pretty lame. Not that he should judge. Unable to dig up a real date, he'd finally resorted to asking out one of his sister Jennifer's friends.
Now he wished he'd just come alone.
Even though Emma Bronski was nice, okay to look at, and was always up for a party, she just didn't do it for him. Moodily, he glanced across the crowded living room to his last-minute, wool-sweater-wearing date as she just happened to strike up a conversation with Amber. The two women immediately started talking up a storm together. He groaned under his breath, almost in pain. If Amber had been his date tonight, there was no way he'd have let her out the door before first exploring every square inch of skin she was showing. He wouldn't mind checking out whatever she wasn't showing, too.
"Hey, man, bet you never seen a rack that awesome before."
He choked on his beer, pulled his eyes off of Amber Bradley, and coughed loudly as he quickly straightened up from his re-con position against the bookcase. "Wh---What?" he gasped, still trying to clear his throat and his dirty mind.
Marc Haines stood next to him. The big, husky dude shook his sizeable blond head in bewilderment. "The deer head I just got back from the taxidermist?" he prompted, waving his beer bottle at the area above the living room mantle, while narrowing his light blue eyes at his buddy's strange guilty-tense expression.
Josh felt the sweat on the back of his neck. "Uh...right. It turned out good. I still can't believe you downed that record buck last year on opening morning." He hoped he sounded convincing, since he was now trying to keep his eyes on the subject and off of Amber, who coincidently just happened to be standing below the awesome deer head and rack.
"So are we still on for this year?" Marc asked. Both knew exactly what he was talking about---they'd hunted together during Michigan's deer season in the past.
"Like always, bro." Josh agreed easily, wishing he could find a female as compatible as his best buddy Marc Haines. Friends since school, they'd taken different paths afterwards, with Marc spending four years in college, earning a degree in engineering. As for himself, he'd spent four years in the Army as a Calvary Scout, only to come home after his service was up to find himself with no further goals beyond working at Fred's Auto Repair. He'd told himself it was just a stopover until he figured out his next move. Only that next move never came.
Until now.
"So, you got the old man to give you some extra days off for hunting this year, I take it?" Marc asked. His friend was well aware that Old Fred could be a hard ass when it came to giving time off.
Josh shrugged and found himself reluctant to propose his idea, since it would mean he was finally considering it, though he'd talked himself out of it and back into it a million times in the last six days. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about the garage. Looks like Fred is selling."
He threw out the info and watched as his buddy gave him the usual 'Holy Crap' look on his big Nordic face. "No kiddin'? So you out on your butt or what? Hey, I know a construction buddy of mine who's hiring," Marc offered with goodwill.
He swallowed hard and thanked God he'd had the good sense to make a friend out of Marc Haines, since the guy was solid gold when the chips were down. "Nah, actually, I was thinking I might look into buying the shop myself," he ventured, wondering if he was out of his mind.
Especially considering he'd barely graduated high school, didn't have a lick of credit, and had never signed his name to anything before.
Marc slapped him on the shoulder and grinned widely. "No shit, buddy. That's great. Go for it."
"Really? No shit, huh?" He wondered if his friend had had too much to drink already.
"It's about time. You already run the place---might as well own it."
"Own what?" Stacy interrupted their conversation as she came up and hugged onto her husband's arm. She also had to tote Amber Bradley along with her.
"Josh is thinking of buying Fred's Auto Repair," Marc announced to the world.
Thanks for nothing, buddy. Josh groaned inwardly, not missing the way Amber's sexy green eyes sprung wide open with amazement at Marc's big-mouthed statement. The woman probably thought he'd tank the shop into the ground before the year was out.
Stacy smiled genuinely at him. "Congratulations, Josh. I think that's great!"
"Uh, yes...good luck, Josh," Amber put out skeptically. She sounded not in the least convinced he could handle buying a stick of gum, let alone an auto repair shop. At the same time, she continued to give him a look of pure disbelief mixed with a little curiosity. Almost as if she were viewing some new primate species in a zoo.
"Thanks," he tossed back, first to Stacy with a grin, then to Amber. The woman locked eyes with him for a few seconds before he cleared his throat awkwardly and looked away first. That was something he'd never done with a female before---he'd always been able to hold a look until a chick either giggled or looked away, all pissed off.
Stacy's eyes widened suddenly as she abruptly turned to her husband. "Oh, that's right! Honey, I need you to help me open some more bottles of champagne---right now!"
Josh narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Stacy's blurted request. It sounded like a national emergency had just occurred in her kitchen, directly followed by a troop retreat as she pulled Marc away by the arm. He now found himself left alone with Amber, who was still looking at him like he was some kind of war casualty.
He shifted his feet, swallowed hard, and racked his brain for something to say, but again found it hard to talk to the woman. Although, all the other times I've run into her, she's been fully clothed. Dressed as she was now in that floaty, silvery-gray nothing of a dress, it was darn near impossible to get his tied-up tongue to work, let alone his brain. Only one obvious part of his body wanted to work, and he desperately willed it not to right now. "How's it goin'?"
"Good, busy." Her voice was tight, and she smiled politely, just like she had every other time he'd talked to her.
"Busy, huh? That's good." He nodded uneasily and fought to keep his mind on their stilted conversation---and off the fact that she probably didn't have a bra on, since her dress was the halter style that left the whole backside wide open, exposing miles of soft, velvety-looking skin that he was just itching to touch, lick, or generally do something with.
"Yes, busy is good in my business," she replied uncomfortably, then looked away as if scanning the room for the slick-looking jerk that brought her.
He glanced across the room to her date. Why would any female willingly go out with a guy who color coordinated his shirt and pants? With a defeated feeling socking him in the gut, he looked away, took a long drink of his beer, and found himself fighting back the urge to both obsessively run his hands down her naked back and ask about her date. The dude had been looking a little too interested in some brunette over in the corner of the crowded living room---a room filled with Marc's professional business friends from his engineering firm, along with Stacy's work group of the same type. He was no doubt the only guy here who didn't own a suit, an un-dented vehicle, or an investment.
"Marc and Stacy really did a great job on the house," she announced suddenly, sounding awkward, but as least she'd finally given him a topic he could work with.
"Yeah, I was over last weekend to watch the Lions game with Marc and got an early tour of the place." He genuinely liked his buddy's custom-built traditional two-story home. "Stacy told me you built a house yourself?"
She nodded and smiled warmly. "Over on Birch Creek Court. It's a one level, very modern, with lots of natural woods, stonework, big windows, but comfortable and close to work and the schools." Her face softened with the last part.
"Schools?"
"Yeah, you know---where children go to learn." She giggled, again looking at him as if he was some kind of moron.
"Uh, yeah---but you don't have kids."
"Not now, but someday I want to have at least six of them."
What the heck? Six kids! The woman wanted six kids someday? I need to either get a stiff drink or get my ears cleaned out. Eyeing her with a more than perplexed expression, he didn't even know how to respond to that one.
"But you're a lawyer and stuff," was all he could finally answer, still thrown for a loop that the woman had even thought of having kids---let alone six.
She laughed, apparently at something amusing he'd just said, tossed her mane of honey-brown hair over one shoulder and leaned into him. Then she whispered a giggled reply with her red glossed-up lips directly into his ear. "Don't tell anyone this, Josh, but I just happen to be a female. I've been one since way before becoming a defense attorney, and I really do wanna have a big family some day."
With that, he watched her sashay her way through the crowded party. Back to her no good date. Leaving him knocked senseless to discover she was not only sexy as hell---but she wanted kids too.
There was no doubt about it...she was exactly what he'd always wanted.
\*\*\*\*
"I want the truth and nothing but the whole truth."
"What?"
"You know what I'm talking about." Amber frowned heavily and plucked one of the bubbling champagne flutes off the kitchen counter. "What was up with stranding me with Josh? I thought I was supposed to come and help you open champagne bottles?"
Stacy turned and glanced over her shoulder, her sparkly green cocktail dress twinkling from the under-counter lighting. She giggled and beamed a white smile, without shame, at her hostile-looking friend. "Oh, come on, Amber, you've been eyeing the guy all night and he's been drooling over you. I just thought it would be fun to see what happened when you two were left alone together," she confessed, turning back around to pull two more trays of spring rolls from her wall oven.
"Thanks for nothing. I felt like an abandoned car left on the side of the road. One that Josh didn't want to fix." She took a much-needed long drink of her champagne and chalked up J.T.'s stiff expression to the fact he was still obviously bummed about her nixing his beer offer on Monday night. As for herself, it felt more than awkward to be face to face with the man, since she had done nothing all week but indulge in reoccurring steamy fantasies about him. "Oh yeah, he wasn't drooling, by the way, it was more like ogling. Caveman style ogling."
Stacy took her trays of freshly baked appetizers and walked around the granite-topped center island to place the trays on cooling racks. "Maybe caveman ogling for the past year, but tonight it's blatant drooling. And can you blame the guy? That dress is pretty sexy. Trying to get lucky tonight?"
"Who with? My date? Are you kidding?" she asked with a disgusted tone as she reordered the champagne flutes into straight lines. "When Tyler's not talking about himself, he's busy eyeing all the women in the room. Getting lucky with that man isn't an option tonight."
Stacy scooped the hot spring rolls onto serving platters and raised one brow. "What about Josh then? He definitely isn't eyeing anyone but you tonight. And stop lining up the glasses."
At the mention of his name, Amber accidently clunked two glasses together; the pinging sound of crystal resonated throughout the kitchen. "Sorry," she murmured, putting her hands behind her back. "You're kidding, right? Josh? What about his date?"
"Emma Bronski? I don't know. I don't think she does it for him."
Amber felt a jolt of misplaced satisfaction at Stacy's straightforward opinion. "Oh, really. You don't think so?"
"It's a no-brainer." Stacy stopped mid-scoop and looked directly at her with a dismayed look on her pert, elfin face. "Did she try and talk you into joining the workout club she just opened?"
Amber nodded. "Oh yeah, she gave it the old college-cheerleader-try, but I think I'm just happy doing my morning walks alone around my neighborhood. No way do I wanna socialize that early in the morning."
Stacy reached for another tray. "Same here. Besides, I'm too lazy to drive somewhere to exercise."
"Definitely, me too," Amber agreed in solidarity. Still not satisfied, she decided to use her courtroom skills and play devil's advocate to see if Stacy thought the same thing she did: how downright wrong Emma Bronski was for Josh Craig. "So, you don't think he's really into her, then?"
"Emma? Good lord, no!"
"Why not? She seems nice enough."
Stacy glanced to the doorway before whispering in a lowered voice. "She is. But she's also too talkative, pushy, and domineering."
Amber hid a secret grin again, since she had thought the same thing. "So why does he continually go out with the wrong women?"
"Why do you continually go out with the wrong men?" Stacy countered, raising one well-arched brow as she did.
She smiled guiltily. "Okay, you've got a point."
"Ya think?"
"Alright, Miss Smarty, so what would be his kind of woman then?"
Stacy placed the last of the empty baking sheets in the sink and turned to eye her. "Mmm...let me see...I've known Josh for a while, and I'd say he's pretty old-fashioned. He likes a woman to be a woman, and he definitely has traditional ideas regarding marriage and family. Not that he's some closet Neanderthal by any means, but she'd have to be someone with the same ideas and values as him."
"Really?" she refuted skeptically, astonished by Stacy's candid viewpoints. "Old-fashioned ideas about marriage and family? Josh Craig?"
"Yes, believe it or not; plus his kind of woman would have to be someone who would accept him just as he is."
"You mean accept the dirty work clothes and beat-up old truck?"
"Don't let that fool you---there's more to him than you know. I still think you should give him a chance. He might surprise you."
"He already has, with his big revelation about buying the garage where he works. Do you really think a guy like Josh is up to the challenge of running a business?" Amber wasn't sure if she could really picture him as a business owner. In her opinion, the guy seemed way too laidback most of the time.
Stacy shot her a wide-eyed look. "Are you kidding? Again, don't let that 'oh shucks' Midwestern attitude fool you. Josh has run that place for the past ten years. Before that he was a Sergeant and a Calvary Scout in the Army. They don't make you a Scout unless you have the drive, ability, and the smarts for a position like that. Marc told me about some of the things Josh did while in the service---believe me, the guy can think on his feet. So I think he's going to do just fine...with a little help from you, of course."
"Me?" she squeaked, not sure where she fit into Josh Craig's life-changing plans.
Stacy nodded wholeheartedly. "You're a lawyer. He's going to need some legal advice on a few things and someone to direct him in making the right decisions. I'm playing the best friend's card and asking you to offer him some free advice."
"I'm a defense attorney. I don't know anything about contracts."
Stacy glared right through her with iron will and determination until she felt herself giving in. It was hard to believe a perky little blonde interior designer could stare her down, especially since no foul-tempered judge, hardened criminal, or cross-examining lawyer was able to do so.
"Oh, all right, I had a semester of corporate law," she acquiesced. At the same time, she compulsively stacked a trio of potholders into a neat pile, knowing she could easily look over any paperwork with one eye closed. "I guess I could let Josh know it's all right with me if he wants to drop by sometime for some free legal advice."
Her friend beamed another wide, satisfied grin at her. "Great. Only make sure you say it in a way that he thinks it's really his idea. Guys have a way of blustering up when a woman wants to help them. Their pride dents easily."
Amber took an extra long swig of her champagne and then frowned heavily. "Anything else?"
"Yeah, don't wear a dress like that if you don't want Josh to drool all over you."
"I didn't wear this dress for him tonight."
"Sure about that?"
"Positive. Trust me on this one."
"I don't know. From where I'm standing, all the evidence points to the opposite."
"Wh---What evidence?" she hiccupped, the sparkling fizz of her drink making her words jump.
Stacy eyed her as she grabbed a freshly filled platter of baked appetizers. "Oh, let's see...maybe it's the fact that whenever I mention Josh's name, you obsessively reorganize everything in sight, besides downing that champagne in two gulps."
She willed herself to play it cool and act as if she were in court drilling a witness. More importantly, she couldn't fidget or organize anything---something she continually did when nervous. "Oh, yeah? Very interesting, Mrs. Haines. First of all, if I really wanted to make Josh Craig drool, I would have worn my red Love Tease cocktail dress. The one you call 'Too Naughty To Take Out Of the Closet.' Secondly, the man just gave me the most horror-struck look when I informed him that I wanted six kids some day. So much for your big theory of him being a traditional-family kind of guy. Therefore, I conclude that I'm not interested in the man."
Stacy stopped midstride on her way out of the kitchen to turn and look back at Amber, who was lifting a tray of filled champagne glasses. "Really? You told him about the kid thing?" she questioned excitedly. "Did he look sort of shocked when you dropped that baby bomb on him? Almost like he saw a ghost?"
I don't like the sound of that. Amber shifted the heavy tray of drinks in her hands, not at all comfortable with the way her BFF currently eyed her, like the woman knew some secret that was badly needed to win a case. "Yeah, sort of like that, I guess."
Stacy quirked a blonde brow and flashed a conspirator's smile. "Oh, interesting," was all she sang mysteriously, before quickly darting out of the kitchen.
"Okay, that was weird." Justifiably bewildered, Amber stood alone in the kitchen, wondering what the heck interesting meant.
Six kids?
It had been eighteen hours since he'd heard those words, and he still couldn't wrap his head around the idea that Amber Bradley wanted six kids. He tried to imagine her taking care of them, driving them to hockey practice, cooking, cleaning, but it seemed like some bizarre dream.
She liked kids? And wanted six?
No way in hell would I have imagined we'd have that in common.
Josh picked up another tie and imagined wearing it. Equally bizarre. With a grimace, he dropped it and looked around for a salesperson. He guessed a busy Sunday afternoon wasn't exactly the best time to shop for a suit. It seemed as if every female in Cedar Point had purposely dragged her boyfriend or husband into the men's department of Henry and Son's, intent on not only tying up the store clerks, but the dressing rooms too.
Disgruntled, he walked around a display of button-down shirts. He now realized he had no clue what to put together to look presentable. In his world, a faded T-shirt and jeans without holes was considered good enough. But not good enough anymore.
"I wouldn't go with that---too stiff and predictable. You're more the sport coat type," a feminine voice whispered behind him. He jumped and turned from the rack of suits to see Amber Bradley, dressed today in a tight-fitting little black leather jacket and blue jeans, with her hair all tousled and loose around her shoulders.
Embarrassment raced through him over being caught looking at suit coats. Although it could have been worse---the woman could have spotted him looking at boxer briefs, or worse yet, at Wal-Mart looking over the selection of condoms.
He cleared his tight throat and shifted his weight restlessly. "Hey, Amber."
She looked at the wall of suits and then to him. "Upgrading your wardrobe?"
"Uh, yeah," he admitted awkwardly, at the same time relieved that she was fully dressed today, unlike the semi-naked display she put on last night at Marc and Stacy's.
"Really?"
Clearly not convinced, she stood in front of him with a puzzled expression on her face. Meanwhile numerous women jostled around them with their reluctant significant others, all vying for the best bargains that Cedar Point's oldest family-run business had to offer. A long time fixture in town and considered the anchor of the business district, the 1950s-built store was styled with time-warped pinky-beige décor, old-fashioned green-and-yellow-flowered wallpaper, and standard piped-in show tunes playing overhead. It also had fluorescent bulbs and new accented spot lighting---which did nothing but noticeably highlight the fact that he was truly out of his element.
J.T. shifted anxiously again; he wanted to bolt for the main doors of Henry and Son's. It was an exit that just happened to open out onto the corner of Third Avenue, Kentucky Street, and freedom. "Believe it or not, I'm here voluntarily."
She laughed at his self-inflicted jab. "Having any luck finding what you need?"
"Hell no."
She smiled back effortlessly and cutely tilted her head to one side. "Need some help?"
He felt the back of his neck start to sweat but guessed he didn't have anything to lose. If some hot chick wanted to waste her Sunday afternoon dressing him, who was he to complain?
"Sure, knock yourself out." He gave in easily, noticing how pleased she suddenly looked with herself.
\*\*\*\*
Where did that come from? Did I really just say that?
Bemused, Amber wondered why she not only felt compelled to come over and say hello when she spotted him, but was now offering to dress the man. She could only conclude that since he looked so adorably lost in the crowded men's department, she couldn't resist coming to his aid.
"Well, great," she announced cheerfully, glad he was willing to cooperate so easily. "What do you need a suit for?"
"Appointment at the bank."
"Loan for the garage?"
"Yep."
"All right then, I would go with something like a sport coat, shirt, and clean jeans. Like what you wore the Friday night I saw you at The Brick Station." She easily remembered how good he'd looked that night. Although she couldn't complain today, since he looked equally hunky in a faded blue and tan rugby shirt and jeans, with a surprisingly nice black suede jacket tossed over one arm.
Looking slightly uncomfortable, he confessed, "The coat and shirt I had on that night were a loan from Marc."
"Oh..." she blurted out. He'd looked so put together that night solely because of Stacy, since her friend bought all of her husband's clothes. "Well, they looked really good on you."
He shrugged his shoulders carelessly. "Thanks...I guess."
"You're welcome." She pushed her favorite black Rosetti handbag up onto her shoulder and decided to dig in and get to work. "So, going with something more casual is okay with you?"
"Yeah, sure, I guess?"
"Okay then. So first of all, what's your shirt and neck size?"
"I'm supposed to know that?"
She couldn't help but smile at his stereotypical male response. "Actually, no, but I thought I'd give it a try."
"Thanks for nothing."
"Sorry, I couldn't resist asking." She giggled helplessly at his disgruntled expression. "Okay, since you don't have a clue, I'm guessing you're a thirty-four/ thirty-five and eighteen for the neck, which is a Large Tall."
"Yeah, most shirts I need a Large Tall."
She could feel him intently watching as she went over to a table of packaged shirts and proceeded to pick through them until she found one to hold up to his chest. "This one looks good, but you should probably try it on."
He looked down at her where she stood only inches from him. "Yeah, all right." He grabbed the shirt from her, pulled it out of the plastic package, and started in on the buttons.
She glanced at the line of men standing outside the dressing rooms. "I think you'll have to wait to try it on. The dressing rooms are full."
He shrugged with indifference. "I'll just throw it on here."
She stood back and watched in total amazement as he carelessly tossed his coat onto a table of men's sweaters and then proceeded to peel off his rugby shirt. The quick action and result made her speechless---the guy not only surprised her by doing the typical male thing in a pinch, but had an incredible too-die-for body, complete with broad shoulders, wide-muscled hairy chest, and rock-hard abs. A definite six-pack no less.
"Uh...sure," was all she could squeak out. She'd never suspected the guy was so...so...downright awesomely ripped and hot under those grubby garage uniforms.
He threaded his well-muscled arms into the dress shirt. "Yeah, it fits," he stated simply, buttoning it as he did, not sounding altogether thrilled. "All right, what's next?"
She pulled herself together and told herself to think. Think! "Oh, ahh...sport coat, maybe black or a dark gray." She walked over to the wall of coats and looked over the selection, more than aware of how close he was behind her. His newly discovered muscled chest towered over her, making her feel warmer and definitely very feminine. "Since you're going to be asking for a loan on an auto repair garage, I think a more casual look is good. A proper suit would be too over the top for you. Not that you wouldn't look good in one. You'd look really great. I mean, you looked good in one at Marc and Stacy's wedding."
She bit her bottom lip nervously and told herself to get a grip. She was a high-powered defense attorney who never lost her cool in court, no matter how tricky the questioning or cross-examination could be.
But here she was, totally rattled after seeing Josh Craig's awesome chest.
He didn't look much better---in fact, he appeared to be caught totally off guard. The guy was obviously surprised to find that not only did she think he would look good in a suit, but she actually remembered what he'd looked like at Marc and Stacy's wedding. It was no wonder he looked semi-shocked, since she had all but ignored him throughout the three-day procession: from the required wedding rehearsal, right through the entire twenty-hour wedding day, and into the day after at the mandatory gift opening.
"That was a rental tux. But thanks anyway," he gave back, his expression definitely skeptical.
"You're welcome. Here, try this one." She pushed a gray wool sport coat at him.
He took it from her, pulled his arms into the sleeves and shrugged it over his shoulders. "Yep. Good."
"Looks great," she told him breathlessly. "You look so handsome." He eyed her suspiciously now, looking extremely baffled. Maybe it was just that he clearly hadn't combed his hair or shaved today. For some reason, his usual scruffy look was starting to grow on her.
"Yeah, well, thanks," he mumbled, still eyeing her with caution.
"Now, do you have a pair of jeans without some kind of stain on them?"
He smiled suddenly. "No, but I'll grab a new pair before I check out."
She reached up and straightened the collar of his shirt. "Just remember to straighten your shirt before you leave for the bank, and add a belt if you have one, possibly a black leather one."
"Yeah, I will."
While she continued to determinedly smooth down the stubborn collar, she felt him brace his shoulders rigidly, as he awkwardly cleared his throat at the same time. She patted the collar into place. "There, that looks good."
"So, uh, how was your date last night?"
She stepped back and looked up into his eyes. "It was all right. We went to dinner at the country club. Food was good."
Me and my big mouth. She could tell he was now working to hide a smirk, since her response was not only flat and dull, but she was talking about the food. Clearly he realized the tragic and boring review of her night wasn't a good sign for her date.
"Seein' him again?"
She shrugged nonchalantly. "Probably not."
"Yeah? Well, if you don't have anything to do, Tuesday night is our first men's city league hockey game. Haines Engineering is playing Triff's Lumber, seven sharp at the ice arena. Why don't you come and watch us play? Stacy will be there to watch Marc, and we usually go for beers afterwards."
She blinked, momentarily caught off guard herself. Mystified by his offer, she didn't know how to respond. Was this a date or just a friendly heads-up on his hockey schedule? "I'm not sure. Maybe? I don't know? I usually have a lot of work to do at night, like reading through briefs and catching up on research."
He shrugged out of the sport coat and tossed it onto the pile of sweaters on the display table. "Hell, it's not a big deal, just thought I'd mention it."
She picked up the sport coat and worked it back onto the hanger while he started undoing the buttons of the shirt. Again, she found herself unable to keep from lusting outright over his ripped body as he stripped in front of her for a second time. "No, really, I'm glad you mentioned it. But I'll still have to see about Tuesday night. I'm so busy right now that I even had to go into work this morning to catch up on a case due in court tomorrow. But that's all part of being self---" Distracted, she watched, totally intrigued as he pulled his muscled arms out of the shirt and tossed it onto the sweater table in a big balled-up mess. Apparently in no hurry to dress, he took his time putting on his faded rugby shirt. This gave her the opportunity to once again look over his hot torso, pumped arms, and broad shoulders. "---employed...uh, I guess."
He worked his arms into the sleeves and pulled it over his head and down over his muscled chest and taut stomach. "I'll probably be the same way when I buy the garage. Plus, I have a few things I want to do to change the place."
She shook out the rumpled shirt, realizing---through her extreme brain fog---that the man was not only showing some gumption in his life, but had some goals he was actually working to achieve. "Like what?"
He grabbed his black suede jacket and pulled it on. "Uh, well, I was thinking maybe I'd put in some new lighting, get some updated tools, maybe remodel the place some."
He was on the right track. Almost. "I think that's great, but I wouldn't stop there. You need to make the place more female friendly."
He narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Why?"
She scoffed. "Ugh, you're kidding, right?" He quirked a dark brow at her. He wasn't kidding. She decided to change tactics. "Okay, consider that some women have to take care of their own vehicles. Take me, for example. I don't have a husband to take my car to the garage when it needs to be fixed, I have to take it in myself, and I'd much rather take it someplace where I'm not out of my element."
"I'm not following you."
Men. "Fred's Garage is dark, dirty and definitely scary for any female to enter. You need some kind of clean, well-designed reception area for women to come into and somewhere to wait while their vehicles are being repaired. Plus I'd put in a coffee bar and offer delivery service. You want to attract not only men but working women, busy moms, older retired couples. The broader your services, the more business you'll have."
The man seemed momentarily speechless. "Anything else?" he asked reluctantly.
"I'd update to a computer system from that outdated ledger I noticed you using when I was in. And it wouldn't hurt to have a person who scheduled appointments and helped customers, rather than just having customers wander into the garage looking for someone to help them."
He swallowed hard. "That all?"
"Just one more thing---I would add a new name and logo for the shop and garage."
"Yeah, good idea," he admitted, though he sounded slightly overwhelmed at the same time. "But first I have to get a loan."
She remembered Stacy's request. "Just remember to read everything over and ask questions if something isn't to your liking."
"You know much about contracts from law school?"
She also remembered Stacy's advice on male pride. "Some. I had a semester on corporate law." She threw out the info, hoping the man would pick up on what she was offering for free.
"Yeah, well, that's good."
Typical stubborn male, he's not going to ask for any advice or help, especially from a female. "Occasionally I look over contracts. I glanced over Marc and Stacy's land contract when they were buying the property to build their house on." Come on. I don't have all day. Just ask me.
"Really? Think you'd have time to look over my stuff?"
Finally. She smiled warmly. Guys were so easy to manipulate. "Sure. Just stop by the office anytime. Actually, phone first. I never know day to day when I'm going to be in court or at the jail.
\*\*\*\*
Josh found himself stunned by that statement. Actually dumbfounded at how a woman could be so matter-of-fact about spending her business day talking to criminals and good-for-nothin' felons. "Yeah, I'll call first."
"Well, I should go." She started to make a move to leave. "I was actually on my way to the perfume counter to get my assistant Brook some perfume for her birthday, and then to the kitchen department. They have a sale on my LeCreuset cookware. I need a big Dutch oven."
He eyed her as they made their way out of the still crowded men's department, not sure what the heck a 'Dutch' oven was. At the same time, he was surprised to find out she liked to spend time in the kitchen. "You like to cook?"
She smiled easily. "Yeah, I enjoy cooking. Unfortunately I don't have a lot of time to spend in the kitchen. Although I'm sure I'll be doing a lot of it someday, after I'm married and at home with kids."
He narrowed his eyes again at the candid statement about her future dreams. "No shit?"
She giggled at his less-than-suave reply and turned to glance over a display of clothing. "Josh, you should take a look at these." She pointed out a display of button-down shirts.
He shrugged as he looked them over, mostly disinterested, since he'd already reached his limit on the shopping thing. "Yeah, they look all right."
She picked one up and shook it out, then put it up to his chest as she'd done before with the dress shirt. "You should get a few of these too."
"Why?"
"Because sometimes you need to wear something that doesn't advertise some sports sponsor on the back of it or have your name stitched on the front."
He grimaced at her. "What's wrong with my clothes? And why should I pay good money for other stuff when I get work shirts and sponsored team jerseys for free?" He grumbled his reply, but at the same time he liked how she was taking interest in him for once, even if it was to criticize his wardrobe. Hell, I'll take what I can get from the woman.
"Actually, the shirt you have on today is all right, I guess. But that STP rock concert T-shirt you had on last night looked like it had seen better days."
He grinned guiltily and shook his head in defeat. "All right, what color?" He relented easily, appreciating the way she smiled at him when he finally gave in. Which made him wonder why he hadn't gone shopping with women in the past---all it took to make them happy was for a guy to cave in and buy clothes.
"Loden green and the sable brown," she decided. "They'll go great with your hair and eyes."
A funny feeling like a sock in the gut from an opponent's hockey stick hit him hard. The woman noticed what color my eyes are? He held out his arms already full with a sport coat, dress shirt, and the jeans he'd just snagged while passing a rack of them. Making it sound like he was more than disgruntled, he moaned, "Go ahead, load them on."
She laughed again and dropped two shirts on top of the pile he held. "Trust me. Women will be all over you when you wear these shirts out somewhere."
A lame "Yeah, right" was all he could put out, suddenly self-conscious again. "Guess I'd better get checked out and get goin' too. I've got hockey practice with the guys in twenty minutes."
She nodded and looked almost like she wished their time together wasn't going to be cut short. "Maybe I'll see you at the game on Tuesday," she offered in a soft, uncertain voice. "And good luck at the bank."
He watched her turn and walk through the racks of men's clothes to the outer aisle, where she disappeared around a corner, headed towards the glass counters of the makeup and perfume area. In her absence he was left imprinted by her touch, the caress of her warm breath on his throat, and the lasting tone of her voice in his tortured mind.
There was no doubt it was becoming difficult to see her walk away from him time and again.
"I think the bad kisser is the worst."
"Nope. It's definitely the shy fumbler."
"My vote is for the dirty talker. Who talks through the whole thing."
"I can top that. It's the one who thinks he's the only one having sex in bed."
How about the guy who proposes date-like scenarios that leave you wondering if they're actual attempts at asking you out, or just some random thing that pops into his mind at the spur of the moment? Which makes a female think, given the opportunity, he'd probably suggest the same thing to his buddy or some drunk sitting on the next barstool over.
...Hey, if you don't have anything to do, Tuesday night is our first men's city league hockey game. Why don't you come and watch us play...
"How about the guy who continually suggests date stuff but is uncommitted to asking you out for real?"
Seated around a semicircular banquette table that displayed numerous finished bottles of champagne and empty appetizer platters, with a variety of BlackBerrys strew about between stemware and table linens, four businesswomen abruptly turned in unison to curiously eye Amber. Stunned, the ladies did nothing but momentarily stare at her with expressions of sympathetic support.
"Good one!" Brook finally announced loudly, sounding slightly inebriated, while she raised her champagne glass to salute her boss at the same time.
"Yeah, that one takes the prize," Pamela agreed, also raising her champagne glass, before the overly vivacious blonde giggled uncontrollably.
"I'm confused here. I thought the topic was 'Bad Things Guys Did in Bed'?" Kristen asked thoughtfully, if not a little tipsily. She was yet another one of Brook's blonde over-achieving girlfriends who'd been invited to the Monday night celebration at The Brick Station for her twenty-seventh birthday.
"Anyone we know?" Stacy drilled, eyeing her up-close with a suspicious glare.
Amber felt her face flush under her best friend's staunch gaze. She was just glad the candlelight was faint. "Just some guy at work," she fibbed. She certainly didn't want to tell her BFF that Josh Craig had done it to her again---done the old ask-but-not-really-ask routine yesterday in the men's department of Henry and Son's.
"Really? Just some random guy, huh?"
"Uhh...I think I need a cocktail." She signaled one of the black-and-white outfitted waiters to their table, at the same time totally avoiding Stacy's perceptive glare. And, of course, avoiding the feelings she'd suddenly started to experience; feelings that became stronger the more she saw the guy. Oddly enough, these new emotions ranged from warm and fuzzy to scared to death.
"So, wanna come to Marc's hockey game tomorrow night?" Stacy proposed innocently.
Too innocently for her.
She darted a quick glance in Stacy's direction before the waiter arrived and momentarily saved her from having to answer. After giving her drink order, she reluctantly turned back to face the music and wondered how in the world the woman could always read her mind.
"I can't." Luckily for her, she had a plausible alibi. "Ellen Bergstrom called me today and asked if I could have Katie and Dillon come over to my place tomorrow night for a few hours. She's hosting a church group at her house, it's a round robin meal for couples, and Ellen's doing the dessert. But first they'll be going to the other couples' homes for the different courses, and she wanted someone to watch the kids. Actually, she wanted me to keep surveillance on Dillon."
Stacy listened intently and nodded. "No problem, just bring them to the game with you. It would be more fun for Dillon and better than having him at your house thinking of ways to burn the place down."
She smiled wanly at her friend's very accurate description of her next evening's activities, while skeptically debating her options at the same time. "Mmm, the game sounds tempting, but I don't know?" Although, the mere thought of spending a night guarding Dillon Lange made the hockey match and running into Josh Craig seem like the better of the two choices. "I suppose the kids would find it a little more fun than hanging out at my house. At least Dillon would."
"And you could drool over Josh at the same time," Stacy teased, her voice lowered so only Amber could hear, as the three other twenty-something women were ensconced in another unrelated conversation. "But he'll probably have his shirt on tomorrow night."
She sputtered on her last mouthful of champagne and reached for a napkin. "Wh---What possessed you to say that?"
Stacy giggled, unable to contain her mirth. "Oh, I don't know? Maybe it's the fact that I saw you two playing 'Let's Get Naked' in the men's department at Henry and Son's yesterday while I was shopping."
Caught! Red-handed too. She cleared her throat and felt her face blush tellingly. Why exactly did I go shopping yesterday of all days? "Ohhh," she groaned and wished she could just crawl under the table. "I didn't see you."
"I know. I purposely didn't come over and interrupt because I know when to butt out."
"Nothing was going on."
"Hey, if you two get turned on by shopping together, who am I to judge?" Stacy teased with a wide smile. "Plus, I've been hoping you two would hook up."
"We didn't hook up. I was just helping the guy out."
"Yeah, out of his clothes."
"The dressing rooms were full."
"Good excuse. I never thought to tell a guy that. I'll have to try that on Marc next time."
"You guys are married. Don't you already see your husband naked?"
"Good point. But he'd still look good semi-naked in the men's department. Probably just as good as Josh did. So, did he make your head spin?"
"I've seen naked men before."
"As good as Josh?"
Am I really supposed to answer that? "Are we ever going to get our meal? And where the heck is that waiter with my cocktail?" She poked her head out of the red leather semicircular booth and glanced about the remodeled railway station bistro, willing the slow-moving waiter to intervene, and quick.
Stacy laughed shrewdly. "Nice try. The old redirect. Classic 101 law school. Now answer the question, counselor."
She moved back into her seat and frowned; she felt as if she were on trial. She rearranged the salt and pepper shakers with nervous energy and reluctantly eyed her friend again. "Oh, all right, the guy is hot. Now are you happy?"
Stacy giggled again before slowly taking a sip of her champagne. "Mmm, guess so. At least you're finally admitting the guy is hot. And, by the way, you could have saved yourself a lot of time and found that out a year ago, but you didn't, and do you know why? It's because you were so dead set against acknowledging his very existence ever since meeting him at my wedding."
Stunned, Amber found herself momentarily speechless for once. She had no idea Stacy noticed how she'd acted towards Josh at the wedding. "Oh...Uhh...I had no idea you noticed at the wedding." She wasn't sure if she liked the direction the conversation was taking. She stacked the dirty appetizer plates together and straightened her silverware compulsively.
Stacy rolled her blue eyes and hooted. "Oh, yeah, you bet I noticed. Not only that, but for the past year it's been impossible not to pick up on the way you continually pretend he isn't around. And stop organizing the table."
Frazzled, she stopped fussing with the table arrangement and made a guilty face at her friend just as the waiter finally appeared and placed her Apple Martini in front of her. She thanked the server and quickly took a much-needed gulp of the ultra-green cocktail. At the same time, she stalled to deliberate over how she'd treated Josh in the past year...which was exactly like some drunk guy who was bothering her at a party. "All right, maybe I sort of pretended he wasn't around at the wedding and afterwards when we happened to run into one another. But nonetheless, I was always polite to the man. Actually, now that I think of it, we've had numerous conversations over the past year. So I haven't totally ignored him."
"So what's changed now?"
"Changed?"
"Yeah, like why are you suddenly helping the guy undress himself?"
She didn't know how to reply. How did she really feel about J.T. Craig? In the past twenty-four hours, she'd pushed away any thoughts of him and denied the fact she was coming to find him attractive and even...almost...hard to resist. Oddly enough, she now found his crude sense of humor, sweet gruffness, and his old-fashioned hands-off politeness kinda endearing, and she'd even begun appreciating his leering caveman glances.
She took a deep, unsteady breath. "Actually, I---" She paused, not sure how much she wanted to reveal. "Actually, I---I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time yesterday afternoon." Okay, so she was in total denial. Only because she wasn't ready to lay on the line, at least not to her best friend, that she was slowly coming to find J.T. Craig a force to be reckoned with. She didn't know if she would ever be able to admit something like that. Plus, she knew Stacy would never let it rest if she got a hold of that kind of intimate girl info.
"Oh, well, that's too bad," Stacy countered softly. "Because you two looked really good together."
Amber nodded guardedly, not sure how to respond. They had been bantering, but Stacy's last statement sounded dead serious.
As retribution for withholding information, Stacy's last words played on repeat mode in her ears for the rest of the night, a constant reverberation as she watched Brook open her gifts after dinner, during coffee and dessert, and all the way home.
Me and J.T. Craig?
She stood in front of her bathroom mirror, dressed in her ivory colored, La Perla silk pajamas, and brushed her teeth as she plotted the possibility.
Hooking up with Josh Craig? Really? I don't know... It's kinda risky and totally not me.
Complicated, too. I don't like complicated.
She spit out the toothpaste and rinsed, then washed her face and slathered a thick layer of drugstore moisturizer over her freshly exfoliated cheeks, forehead, and neck.
Why not give it a try? For goodness sakes, the guy is hot, nice, and no one says you have to promise anything more than one night with the man if you don't want to. Besides, it's only as complicated as you want to make it.
True. She took a length of floss out of the tiny blue plastic container and worked it between her teeth.
One night with Josh Craig, on maybe something like a trial basis?
She finished flossing and pulled her hair scrunchy out, analyzing herself in the mirror, plotting still.
One night? The idea does have possibilities in a sort of weird counter-reality way.
She neatly put away her lotion bottles in the pullout cabinet drawer and hung up her towel on the bar next to the sink.
Honestly, after seeing the guy in the men's department of Henry and Son's, it doesn't seem altogether like such a bad idea.
\*\*\*\*
"So who was the hot babe undressing you in Henry and Son's?"
Josh jumped a foot and gritted his teeth as he tied a towel around his middle before stepping out of the frosted glass shower stall. No matter where he went or what he did in Cedar Point, there was bound to be a Craig there to witness it, since his family numbered in the fifties at last count. That didn't even include second cousins.
"Jeez! Trying to give me a heart attack? Don't you ever knock?" He glared at his younger sister Janey, who was currently propped against the door-jam of his bathroom. Today she was dressed in her usual weird teenage outfit, consistently all black and reminiscent of the grim reaper: hoodie sweatshirt, skirt, leggings, boots, and massive amounts of matching eyeliner.
"I did, but I heard the shower and let myself in. You don't have much of a lock on that door. So who was she? Are you bringing her to Mom and Dad's for Thanksgiving?"
He went over to the sink and turned to eye his little dark-haired sister, who was not only oddly Goth looking, but also a pain to be around, and the biggest gossip in the family. "She's no one you need to know about, and hell no, I'm not bringing her to Mom and Dad's big Thanksgiving blowout. I wouldn't subject any woman to that."
"Okay, next question. Why are you showering and shaving before going to play hockey?"
He resisted the urge to put a gag in his sister's mouth and decided to ignore her instead. "None of your beeswax." He picked up his electric shaver and ran it over his face as he eyed her in the mirror.
"Lame, J.T." She rolled her black-rimmed eyes in disgust."It's no wonder why you have no luck with women."
"I have plenty of luck, Shorty."
"Oh? Like tonight? Do you have a date after your hockey game?"
He sighed heavily, plunked down his electric razor on the counter next to the sink, and turned to face his sister. "Guess you'll have to come and see," he taunted, knowing a men's city league hockey game was the last place his high-school-age sister would be caught at.
"Gross. Who wants to see a bunch of washed-up old guys trying to relive their youth?"
"Maybe the 'hot babe' does?"
"I feel sorry for her. She must be hard up."
"Nah, she just has good taste."
"Are you going to tell me her name or not?"
He grinned and brushed past her to exit the bathroom of his one-room apartment located above a hardware store. The studio lifestyle suddenly felt cramped; he was past due for an upgrade. "Is that the only reason you're here buggin' my ass tonight?"
She flounced around his apartment, picking up and scrolling through his MP3 player before making a face at his selection of hard-core rock music. "That, and Mom and Dad were talking about how Jeff told them you were asking around town about getting some big business loan. Melissa told Jeff she saw you at the bank yesterday. Mom and Dad didn't want to ask you themselves and decided to send me over to drag the info out of you."
He groaned loudly. Christ! I'm thirty-two years old. Can't I just live my life without everyone in my family having to know my business? He grabbed one of his new pairs of jeans and irritably tossed them onto his always rumpled-looking bed. "So my big brother's wife was spying on me at the bank and told Jeff, who told Mom and Dad. Why am I not surprised?" He reached inside his only closet to extract one of the new button-down shirts that Amber had personally handpicked for him, feeling way pissed now.
"That's what you get for moving back to town after the Army," Janey reminded him. At the same time, she pushed him out of her way in order to snoop through his newly stocked clothes closet, pulling a few items out to assess critically. "Hey, you actually have some cool clothes. The hot babe is a good influence."
He gritted his back teeth together and growled threateningly as he retrieved the clothing items he'd added after Amber left him in the men's department. "I picked some of these things out myself for your information, Smart Mouth."
Her midnight-purple-glossed mouth dropped wide open. "Are you in love?"
"Hell no." He stuffed the clothes back into his closet and slammed the door for good measure.
"Because no man buys clothes without being forced to unless he's in love or really tied up over a woman and wants to impress her."
He leaned down so he was eye to eye with his nosy, bothersome little sister. "I've never been in love, and I'm sure as heck not trying to impress anyone," he denied vehemently.
"Then are you going through some early-thirties-life-crisis thing?"
He straightened and barked out a laugh. "Definitely not, but I might consider becoming an early-thirties murderer if you don't get out of here. I'm running late and need to get dressed and get over to the ice arena." He pushed her out of his way and retrieved a pair of boxer briefs and socks from his dresser, adding them to the clothes already piled on the bed.
"What should I tell Mom and Dad?"
He shrugged and shoved his team jersey into his hockey equipment bag. "Tell them I'll see them in a few weeks at Thanksgiving. If they want to know anything, they can torture the info out of me then, preferably at half-time during the Lion's game."
Clearly frustrated, she stalked to the door, pulled it open and whirled around dramatically, her long black hair tossed over one shoulder as she glared at him. "So there really isn't anything going on with you and the hot babe?"
"Nope." He kept his voice firm and tossed his full hockey bag next to the door.
She shrugged, seemingly without care. "Too bad. She looked really nice." With that shocking statement hanging in midair, his sister abruptly exited.
Stunned, he eyed her departing vampire-like figure and slammed the door behind her. He realized, for the first time, that his little kid sister wasn't so little anymore.
Mainly because she'd hit the nail on the head---Amber Bradley was nice.
He whipped off his towel, tossed it onto the bed, and proceeded to get dressed. All the while, he couldn't help acknowledging he'd thought that exact thing about Amber after they'd parted ways the other day---she was nice. Just like when she came into the shop to have her car repaired. She was really warm and down to earth. Different. Nothing at all like the other businesswomen who'd come into the garage all uptight, in a hurry, pissed looking, and so distracted with their BlackBerrys they barely glanced at him as they demanded to get their cars fixed, and fast. And their attitude always made him feel like it was his fault they were having car problems in the first place. Frankly, women like that kinda scared him.
He finished getting ready and grabbed his black suede jacket and equipment bag before locking his apartment door. Finally, he headed down to his old beat-up Chevy truck, parked in the usual spot out back in the darkened alley behind Johnson's Hardware Store.
On his way to the ice arena, he debated whether she would actually show up, his opinion wavering back and forth. On one hand, she'd sounded interested when he'd mentioned it the other afternoon in the department store. On the other hand, there was no way in hell she'd go out of her way to come and see him play hockey, unless she was forced to.
He parked outside the large warehouse-type building and took his bag inside, where he immediately looked around the heated lobby area for her. Nothing. He glanced through the glass windows and double-set of glass doors leading into the unheated ice rink; he felt like an ass when he didn't see her sitting with Stacy and the others already on the wooden bleachers inside. On cue he experienced the same heavy feeling he got in his gut whenever she ignored him, or was out with some other guy, or just plain looked uninterested in acknowledging his existence.
Why can't I just get it through my thick head the woman doesn't want to have anything to do with me?
He sighed heavily; it sucked. Although he could at least try to see the upside of the situation---without Amber around, this would be one less night of self-torture.
"Hey, buddy." Cooper Gerhardt's rough greeting echoed through the cavernous lobby as he approached from the direction of the locker rooms, already dressed in his bulky hockey equipment. "We're out a goalie tonight. Tom can't make it. Guess one of his kids is sick and his old lady got called into work at the hospital. Are ya up for takin' on the job?"
He shrugged. "Guess so." Not that he really cared one way or the other. His night was already shot to hell. Might as well go all the way and play his least favorite position while he was at it.
"Hey, it's that chick from last week," Coop growled, looking past Josh's shoulder.
J.T. resisted the urge to seriously knock the enthralled look off his buddy's face and instead turned back to the front entrance. Sure enough, Amber was coming in...with two kids?
"She's got kids?" Coop asked, sounding less interested.
"Nah, they must be on loan from someone else." He knew she wanted kids but was pretty sure she hadn't acquired any since Saturday night, when she'd almost landed him on his ass while confessing her future mommy goals.
"Hmph. Well, when you're done getting hard over the woman, get your ass movin' and get on the ice. We got five minutes before the game starts," Coop warned before he walked off stiffly in his skates and gear, headed into the ice arena.
Cooper's crudely perceptive remark made J.T. wonder if it was blatantly obvious to others just how hot he found her. Right now was no different---he couldn't seem to keep himself from smiling at her as she approached, dressed tonight in some body-molding jeans and sweater, with a fur-lined hooded white vest thing that made her look like some kind of forbidden sexy snow bunny.
Now how's a guy supposed to concentrate on defending a hockey goal with her looking like that?
\*\*\*\*
Amber told herself to breathe and ignore the fact that Josh Craig was smiling all sexy-like at her, besides looking like he was planning on a hot date after the game.
He looked just as good tonight as he had the Friday when she'd run into him at The Brick Station---he was showered, shaved, and dressed in one of the new shirts she'd personally picked out for him. She also remembered how she'd teased him about wearing it and told him women wouldn't be able to resist him. Evidently, he'd taken her seriously on that little piece of advice. Why else would he be so cleaned up, if he wasn't planning on going out with some woman after the game?
And why should I care?
Right. So spending two hours doing your hair and makeup and worrying over what to wear had nothing to do with the fact that Josh Craig was going to be here?
Okay! So maybe I'm interested in the man...sort of...okay, a lot. But what woman wouldn't be after seeing him half naked on Sunday?
He came up to her with the killer grin still playing on his mouth. "Hey, Amber."
"Hi." That's all I can come up with? She suddenly found herself breathless, anxious, and nervous to be around him. It was a totally new experience for her, considering in the past she'd been oblivious, ambivalent, and unaware he even existed.
"See ya made it with reinforcements too." He momentarily moved his gaze off her in order to hold his hand out to Dillon. "Hey, man, I'm Josh Craig."
The tall sixteen-year-old reluctantly extended his hand. The faded-army-coat-and-grungy-jean-wearing youth looked anything but thrilled to be dragged to a men's city league hockey game. A grumbled "Hey" was all Dillon Lange would begrudgingly give out to Josh as they shook hands. Amber suddenly found herself wanting to grab the disgruntled youth by the scruff of his neck in order to straighten up his slouched stance.
"So...Josh, this is Dillon Lange, and this is my friend Katie Kaminski," she introduced. Josh released his grip from Dillon's and turned to give fresh-faced Katie a quick "hi" with a wink added in, which made the preteen giggle and made Amber herself slightly weak in the knees.
To her surprise, he turned his attention back to Dillon and once again directly addressed the boy. "Dude, know how to slice the ice?"
She watched as Dillon flicked his long, sandy-blond hair out of his eyes with one motion, warily weighing his options. "Maybe. Why do you care?"
Josh scoffed back at him and shrugged his shoulders. "Hell, I didn't say I cared, man. I only asked if you knew how to skate. Do ya or not?"
Dillon eyed him back, as the teenager was almost as tall as Josh himself. "Guess I do," he said slowly, mumbling as if he were being questioned in some police investigation.
"Good. Get your ass in the locker room and find some skates and pads. You're playing goalie tonight." Josh turned back to Amber. "See ya after the game."
Totally perplexed, she watched in amazement as Josh turned and stalked across the lobby to the locker rooms with his large equipment bag tossed over one broad shoulder, while Dillon Lange hesitated for exactly five seconds before he finally caved and followed Josh into the men's locker room.
More than stunned, she blinked and didn't know what to say. Josh Craig had just given the most ornery, troubled sixteen-year-old boy on the planet a direct order, and the kid had followed it. She guessed there was something to be said for being an Army Scout.
"Sweet! That was so awesome." Katie looked up at her with big eyes. "No one can do anything with Dillon, and that guy just got him to play hockey without Dillon yelling or fighting. He didn't even swear at Josh."
Amber raised one brow at Katie's candid observations. "That was something all right," she murmured, still shocked to find that Josh Craig could be so forceful when he had to. Usually she only saw the guy acting excessively laidback, disconnected, and middle of the road on everything.
With nothing left to do, she led the way into the unheated ice arena, where the bleachers were already filled to the brim with people---substantiation that hockey was vitally important in the small northern community. She spotted Stacy, waved, and climbed the bleachers to where her friend had saved seats. She didn't miss Stacy's slightly perplexed look while she and Katie settled themselves next to her.
"What happened to Dillon? Did the kid get hauled off to jail before you could get him over here tonight?" Stacy quipped.
She laughed wryly. "Actually, Josh ordered him to play in the game."
"Really? Amazing. The guy is not only hot, but good with troubled teens too. Possible daddy material, if you ask me."
"I didn't ask," Amber refuted, though secretly she was more than a little impressed with Josh Craig's ability to get Dillon Lange to not only respond to him verbally, but to actually participate in some physical activity.
Leaning down to look around Amber, who was positioned between the two, Stacy smiled warmly to Katie. "Hey, Katie. Cute hat and scarf combo. The pink looks good with your purple coat."
Katie beamed---she obviously loved the extra attention. "Thanks, Stacy. Amber got them for me when she was shopping this weekend."
"Well, they look smashing," Stacy stated with a big smile, then moved back to whisper into Amber's ear directly. "And here I only thought you were picking up a man at Henry and Son's on Sunday afternoon."
She slid her friend a narrowed glare. "At least I wasn't spying and living vicariously through my best friend Sunday afternoon."
"Point taken." Stacy laughed smugly and nodded to the ice rink."So, isn't Josh a hunk in his hockey uniform?"
Amber looked to where he was warming up with the rest of his team. She cringed as he violently checked another guy into the wall, but she had to admit he did look kinda hunky in his team jersey, helmet, pads and skates. "How old are we? Sixteen?"
Stacy groaned and rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Ugh---you're going all lawyer on me again. You're not in court, Amber. This is just some innocent girl talk, you know, about men and how Josh looks all spiffed up tonight. I saw him come in before."
Amber tilted her head to one side. "I hate to burst your bubble, but the guy has a date after the game," she predicted. "The last time I saw him shaved and dressed like that was a few weeks ago when I ran into him at The Brick Station on a date. You do the math."
Her friend's face dropped. "Oh, I didn't think of that."
"Too bad. Another matchmaking attempt bites the dust." She laughed convincingly and hid the fact that she had been equally disappointed to see him look so good tonight, since it meant he had something going on afterwards. It was just as well---starting something with him would not only be bad news but awkward afterwards, as they knew the same people. But one night with him could also be really fun, spontaneous, and the hottest thing I've ever done in my adult life.
"Amber, can I go get some popcorn at the concession stand?"
She jumped guiltily at Katie's question before clearing her throat and nodding. "Sure, sweetie." She reached into her purse and handed the girl a five-dollar bill.
Katie took the money and smiled before jumping down the bleachers as only an eleven-year-old could. Within minutes she was back with a large bag of freshly popped popcorn, just as the women, along with the rest of the bundled-up crowd, watched Haines Engineering take on Triff's Lumber Yard. The large crowd cheered, yelled, and urged the men on with good-natured ribbing. Marc's sponsored team whipped the other city team in a shut-out five to zero, with Dillon not giving up one goal. To Amber, the teenager seemed like a natural when it came to hockey, which pleasantly shocked her. She never saw the boy do anything when she was over at the Bergstrom's, except sit slumped in a chair, either zoned out with his iPod plugged into his ears or zombiefied by a video game.
"Glad you came?" Stacy asked just as the final game buzzer sounded loudly.
"Yeah, I'm glad I did." Amber smiled and realized she had been having a great time. Surprisingly so, since she hadn't expected to find sitting in a big, cold, florescent-lit building watching grown men try to kill each other so fascinating and entertaining. But she had. She'd genuinely gotten into the hockey match and found herself amazed by how aggressive and downright brutal Josh had been. The one-eighty between the ice-hockey persona he showed tonight and his everyday demeanor astounded her. "Marc played well."
Stacy nodded. "Yes, he did. But to tell the truth, I don't care how he plays as long as he comes home at the end of the night with all his teeth."
Amber laughed easily and followed Stacy and the rest of the crowd out to the lobby, as Katie kept them entertained with stories of her friends at school and the mystery cat book series she was currently into. Within ten minutes, the men started filing out of the locker room. Stacy had informed her earlier that the guys usually showered before coming out, leaving her to envision what Josh would look like naked in a shower. Probably twice as good as he did half naked in Henry and Son's.
With that image still front and center in her mind, she watched as Josh and Marc trailed out of the locker room behind Dillon. Josh came to stand next to her while Marc immediately went over to Stacy, who hugged her husband tightly and congratulated him on his team's win.
"So before you say no---just say yes," Josh whispered into her ear, while Marc and Stacy immediately centered their attention on Dillon and how well he'd done in the game.
She jumped slightly at the unfamiliar feel of his warm breath on her ear and the deep, gruff tone of his voice speaking so intimately. It definitely made her wonder if he would sound like that in bed.
"Yes to what?" she whispered back, trying to stay focused.
"To spending the night with me."
Amber's eyes widened involuntarily. I hope I don't look too freaked by the idea of spending the night with him. Although she guessed she must, since she was currently giving him a slightly horrified expression, which wasn't her intention at all. Her only justification was that his sudden request had thrown her for such a loop, she actually found herself speechless. As a defense attorney, this was a new one for her.
He continued to look uneasy, like he wished he hadn't even bothered asking. "I told Dillon I'd take you guys out for burgers before I head over to Hugo's. So are you up for goin' or what?"
"Oh! You mean all of us?" she blurted out, totally caught off guard. "Uh...I don't know...it's a school night, and the Bergstroms are expecting the kids back."
"Hah, right. I forgot about the school thing." From his puzzled expression, it was apparent he was either wondering who the Bergstroms were or why she was suddenly so rattled, or both.
"Come on, Amber, it's not that late," Dillon tried, picking up on their whispered conversation.
"Can I get a malt?" Katie inquired, also apparently up for a night out.
"Actually, it is getting late for Katie, and no on the malt," she told both kids in turn. "Ellen wants you guys back by nine, and it's almost that late already. Besides, I don't wanna mess up Josh's plans."
"Plans?" He sounded momentarily thrown.
"Yes, your plans," she prompted, feeling oddly flustered. "But anyhow, thanks for the offer, Josh." She countered quickly and left no room for rebuttal from any of the parties involved.
He nodded and eyed her closely. "Yeah, maybe some other time." He then turned and addressed Dillon once again. "Thanks, man, for pinch hitting tonight, and don't forget to stop by the shop tomorrow after school with your ride. The guys and I should be able to figure out what the problem is with that carburetor of yours."
"Yeah, maybe," Dillon shrugged, not quite smiling, but definitely looking happier leaving than he had arriving.
"Hey, Katie, thanks for cheering so loud tonight," Josh teased, and he winked again at the giggling girl before he abruptly said goodnight to Marc and Stacy. Without further delay, he easily slung his heavy-looking equipment bag over one shoulder as he hastily marched to the door and out to the parking lot.
"Time for us to head home too," Amber announced, saying goodnight, then totally ignoring Stacy's questioning look as she hustled the kids to the exit.
Outside, the three of them walked through the shadowy parking lot to her car. A dusting of flurries skimmed through the icy black air while she let out a quiet, regretful moan under her breath. As she drove across town, an unforeseen feeling settled in her heart, a strange uneasiness brought on by the way Josh had just simply up and walked out. Clearly he'd been in a hurry to get on with his night. Normally that never bothered her or made her think twice. But it did now.
After dropping the kids back at the Bergstroms, she took a few minutes before leaving to explain who Josh Craig was, and that Dillon wanted to take his used car over to the garage to be looked at. Both Ellen and Bob were willing if it meant the disgruntled teen would be doing something productive after school versus finding trouble to get into at every turn. They also listened to Amber's play by play of the hockey match and how Dillon had defended every slap shot sent his way. The Bergstroms seemed more than surprised at how Josh had managed to get Dillon into the game.
Back at her house, Amber parked her car in the garage, closed the door and let herself through the front entrance, expecting the usual sense of contentment the minute she stepped into the foyer. For some reason, however, tonight she felt anything but content with her life.
In the softly lit entryway, she meticulously hung up her hooded winter vest, then flicked the light switch that turned on the accent lamps on either side of her custom sofa. Instead of going over to it, she sank down on the raised, polished wood platform of the entry and looked over her living room with a longing sigh. Everything in her life was structured, ordered, and just as she'd always wanted it---to a point.
Frustrated, she shook her head. She knew exactly what the problem was. A long time ago, she'd promised herself she was going to make it, make something of herself, and she'd done just that, exceedingly so. But in that promise was the amended thought she would be doing it with someone. Not alone.
In the back of her mind, the dream of finding the perfect man to share her life with had always been there. Not that she needed a man to feel complete, but then again, who wanted to live by themselves for the rest of their lives? Not her. She'd spent a childhood alone, feeling like a loner, the odd one out, the one who never quite fit in, never understanding where she came from and where she was supposed to go. From birth she had no family to connect herself with; both her unmarried teenage birth parents had refused to accept her into their lives, and then she'd somehow missed out on adoption, or even a long-term foster placement.
She glanced around her home again. Deep in the recesses of her heart, she knew she'd been so determined to make it solely to prove she could create her own place in this world, a permanent residence, a haven that would be constant and would never change or waver. A place where she finally fit in.
But her dream life also included a family to love. Complete with toys scattered about the living room, muddy boots kicked off by the backdoor, finger-painted artwork covering her refrigerator. She'd even take the endless nights up walking the floor with one child, while planning to pick up another one the next day from piano lessons or maybe hockey practice after school. Days jam-packed with the normal errands, meals, household chores, times shared together as a family.
Someday.
She took a ragged breath, picked herself up off the foyer steps and made her way into the kitchen to extract a bottle of white wine from the glass-fronted beverage cooler. She poured herself a glass and took a long sip as she leaned back against the black granite countertop, a sullen feeling overtaking her.
I wonder what Josh Craig is doing on his date?
Why should I care?
Yeah right.
She took another sip of wine as an absurdly strange sensation skipped through her heart again. It was the same illogical reaction she'd experienced when he'd bolted out of the ice arena. An uneasy sense of being left behind. It was positively bizarre.
Come on. You know you wanted to be the one he went out with tonight.
With Josh Craig? What in the world would a woman do on a date with a man like that?
Bowling? Darts? Hustle a game of pool at Hugo's?
After her past year of dating, those choices didn't sound so bad.
She shrugged and decided that no matter how much she was attracted to the man, there had to be some limit on whom she got involved with. Shouldn't there be? Granted the guy was nice, hunky, and liked kids, but there was that unstable and unpredictable side of him that always brought up the red caution flag. Caution was second nature for her, garnered from her youth, from an unpredictable childhood. When she thought about it, unstable would be a more apt description of her upbringing, since she never knew when or where she would be living from one year to the next. And there wasn't much she could have done about it back then. Her only recourse was to work hard, be neat and tidy, do well in school, anything not to rock the boat and cause her foster parents to give her up. Unfortunately, as a young girl she'd had no idea that sometimes life isn't played by the rules, no matter how much her foster parents liked her, or how good she was, or how hard she tried. Now, as an adult, she finally had control over where and how she lived her life, so getting involved with a man like Josh Craig, who lived a spur-of-the-moment existence...well, it didn't exactly fit into her well-planned lifestyle. Not even close.
But if that's the case, then why am I still thinking about him?
Easy! Because the sex-starved female part of you wants to give in and sleep with the guy.
True. But really, where is that going to get me? All right, besides the obvious one hot night, it still won't make him into the guy I'm looking for.
We'll see.
\*\*\*\*
Josh eyed the thing, not believing what he was seeing.
He raised one dark, winged brow in complete bewilderment. "How in the hell did you get this thing started?"
"Jimmied the cylinders and propped open the valves a little and it started right up," Dillon Lange boasted as all five hardened mechanics looked into the engine of his decrepit, pathetic, barely running two point three-liter, four-cylinder 1983 Ford Mustang Turbo. The car had definitely seen better times.
"Christ almighty! That gasket is held together with duct tape," Cooper exclaimed, scratching his head in amazement.
"The intake manifold has some kind of wire strap, for Pete's sakes," Tom Melinski complained, grimacing at the thing.
"The transmission fluid is burned. Hell, there can't be anything left of the torque converter on this thing," Hank Dodge gritted out; even the tough ex-military mechanic looked more than shocked.
"Look at that steering box. Nothing keeping it from busting in two," Shane Mitchell added. "Dude, this engine is nothing but F'in crap. And you still got it across town?"
"No sweat, man. It ain't pretty, but it gets me where I need to go," Dillon countered as he carelessly flicked his long hair out of his eyes.
Josh shook his head again. "I don't know if we should give him a medal for bravery or run him out of town." Still baffled by the sight before him, he slid a quick glance at the teenager, who had, surprisingly enough, showed up after school this afternoon just like he'd said he would last night at the ice arena. Josh had been sure the disgruntled kid would be a no-show.
"Hell, we need to give him a job," Coop offered. "So he can use the money to actually put this thing together with real engine parts instead of shit out of the junk drawer at home."
"Yeah, any kid who can get an engine taped, wired, and glued together and actually get it to run should be handy around here," Tom seconded.
"Do you even know how to use tools, kid?" Hank growled, eyeing Dillon closely.
Shane shook his blond head as he leaned further into the car engine to get a closer look. "Christ! Tools? I'm still trying to figure out if the kid even knows what a real engine should look like."
Dillon shrugged. "Dudes," he scoffed, "I don't need to rely on crap like wrenches and socket sets like you guys in order to get an F'in engine to work."
Coop hooted at the kid's smartass remark. "Yep, he'll fit in nice around here."
Josh nodded and narrowed his eyes at the scruffy, long-haired teenager. "So you up for workin'?"
As if he were being set up for a crime, Dillon looked more than wary of the offer. "No shit?"
Josh nodded. "No shit. I'll hire ya, but you have to show up after school on time, keep your grades up, and I don't take crap from anyone. Plus if you want to borrow a tool from someone's toolbox or any of the shop tools, it has to be checked out by one of the guys and checked back in the same way. We all go by that one rule around here." He laid it all on the line for the kid---somehow, he knew the boy didn't want anything to be easy. "Think you can handle that?"
"I don't know..." Dillon debated.
"Make up your mind already," he demanded impatiently, purposely being as blunt as he could.
"Yeah, I guess so," Dillon mumbled and flicked his hair out of his eyes again.
"Oh, yeah, one more thing," he added. "No long hair. Cut it."
"Aw, come on, man---"
"Take it or leave it," he countered sharply, cutting the kid off before he could fully voice his opinion. "I don't F'in care one way or another."
Dillon begrudgingly gave in. "Hell, all right."
"Yeah, and stand up straight, kid," Hank ordered, sounding very military-like. "There are a billion shorter guys in this world who would give anything to have your height."
"Yeah, plus chicks dig tall guys," Shane joked smugly, since he was just shy of six four.
"But not mutants like Mitchell there," Coop handed back, with Shane giving him a killer look.
Josh just chuckled and motioned to Dillon. "Come on, kid. I got some paperwork for you to fill out." He moved over to the service desk with Dillon behind him, while the other mechanics got back to the vehicles they had been working on before the teenager pulled up with his loud, rusty, barely running Ford Mustang Turbo.
Behind the disorganized counter piled high with papers, Josh rifled through the stacks below until he finally found some employment papers. Smoothing them out, he pushed them across to the kid. "Here, complete these."
Dillon grimaced. "Uh, dude, that looks like a lot of blanks to fill."
"Yep. Sure is. You got a problem with that?"
"Hell no," Dillon grumbled. The kid gave him the standard F-you look at the same time.
Josh ignored the teen's typical disgruntled behavior. "Good. Then you can fill them out here or take them home. You should also make sure it's okay with your folks that you're going to be working here after school until five each day," he suggested, really only adding the last part in order to find out the kid's story.
Dillon took the papers off the counter. "Folks? Nah. I'll have to check with my foster parents though."
"The Bergstroms?" he guessed, playing it cool so as not to spook the boy.
"Yeah, Ellen and Bob."
"They okay?"
"Guess so," Dillon said, sounding genuine. "I started living with them six months ago. They don't bug me too much. So I guess they're pretty cool."
"Katie's your sister?" he inquired. The two kids looked similar, even if they had different last names.
"Nah, she's another foster kid. I think she's been living with the Bergstroms for like a year."
Josh took in the info and decided to push it a little further. "So how does Amber know you guys?" He tried not to sound too interested, and at the same time pretended to look over the 'outdated' scheduling book for the rest of the afternoon appointments.
"Amber?" Dillon asked, sounding surprised at the turn of questioning. "Oh, she's Katie's Foster Buddy."
He looked up from the ledger. "What the hell is a Foster Buddy?"
Dillon shot him a classic 'What-a-Dumbass' look. "You know, man---it's a person who used to be a foster kid. They buddy up with a kid who's in the foster program now. Amber is Katie's buddy. They tried to get me into that whole thing, but I told them it was bullshit."
Strong sarcasm laced Josh's voice. "Really? No kiddin'? I would have never guessed you'd say that." At the same time, a missile of shock rocked through his chest, before redirecting to his gut. Amber Bradley was a former foster kid? The idea didn't seem possible. The woman was so accomplished, smart, and driven. He'd just assumed she came from some hoity-toity family that was loaded. But in reality the woman had been a former foster kid, part of the system, with no one to back her.
"Earth to dude. Should I start tomorrow, man?" Dillon questioned a second time.
Josh cleared his throat and tried to dissolve the weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Uh, yeah, right after school. See ya then."
With that, Dillon nodded and headed over to his questionable-looking car. Josh watched the tough-hided kid and felt a soft spot developing for the ornery teenager.
"Hey, kid," he yelled across the garage. "Maybe we can work on your car tomorrow night after work. Fix up that engine a little and maybe put in a better set of spark plugs and wires."
Dillon nodded, eyeing him cautiously before folding his lanky teen frame into his beat-up Mustang and tearing out of the garage and through the parking lot at mock-five.
With a dubious shake of his head, Josh walked over and pushed the automatic garage door button. He made a mental note to definitely go over driving techniques with the kid.
While a few snowflakes filtered down from the gray sky, the rest of the afternoon was the same as usual for him and the other mechanics. Working nonstop in the dingy garage, the crew of five men serviced three work trucks from a local plumbing crew, rotated tires on one foreign car owned by some professor at the university, completed numerous oil changes, and fixed the brakes on another truck.
All the while, Amber was up front and center in his mind.
Foster kid. The idea of her being alone as a child seemed downright scary, especially for him. He'd grown up in a clan of a family, with too many relatives who smothered him in love and encouragement. He continually fought against his situation, wished it away, and generally took it for granted. Now, for the first time in his life, he saw his family in a whole new light---and he saw Amber that way too. He also realized why she always acted the way she did: tough, independent, and self-reliant. Personality traits of hers that he'd judgmentally mistaken for elitist, just a little snobby, with a little arrogance thrown in.
Her status as a foster kid also explained why she'd acted the way she had with him in the past: continually pushing him away, denying his existence, and pretending he wasn't around. The woman obviously wanted someone she could count on...rely on...depend on. He wasn't exactly the poster guy for dependability, responsibility, and accountability. At least he hadn't been in the past. He also knew she'd witnessed him more than a little drunk some nights, always out with a different woman, and he didn't even want to get himself started on his current housing and vehicle situation.
He finished up on a transmission overhaul and closed the hood before driving the truck out to the parking lot to be picked up the next morning by the owner. One by one, the guys left for the night; most headed home, since it was a Wednesday and still two days until payday. As for himself, he was more than ready to leave. His back hurt from bending over an engine all day, and his hands were chapped and cut in places from ramming them against a truck motor and from the ever-present dampness.
He was also more than ready to finalize the papers for buying the place. Suddenly, he found himself a little nervous, since he had called early in the afternoon and scheduled a time to stop at Amber's office so she could look over his loan papers and the realty contract. He washed his hands over at the service sink and checked his reflection in the dirty mirror above to make sure he didn't have grease all over his unshaven face. Not that the woman would care or even notice if he was dirty.
After shutting off the garage and office lights, he locked up the place just like he had for the last ten years and got into his old Chevy truck, willing it to start. Luck was with him, and he got it going on the first try, then drove the ten blocks over to her office located on one of the main refurbished city streets of Cedar Point. Already past six, it was now fully dark, and with winter coming most businesses were closed for the day, which left the street vacant. He parked directly in front of her office and climbed out of his truck. As he walked up to the door, he took a deep, icy breath and willed away the tight feeling in his chest. It was the same feeling he'd experienced last night and every time he ran into her. It was a little rush of adrenaline, an excited, jittery sensation, and it had become almost second nature to him.
Inside, her assistant Brook smiled and led him back to Amber's private office. In a contemplative mood, he stood for a minute and just looked at her while she sat behind her desk, unaware that he was watching. At the same time, he tried like hell to kill the powerful feelings running through him: the need to take her into his arms, the urge to take her home with him, and the overwhelming desire to take care of her.
He pushed away the emotions---considering how the past year had gone, it was useless to feel this way.
Disheartened, he still stubbornly squared his shoulders and kicked his head up a notch with unyielding tenacity before moving further into the softly lit room. She was dressed in a tight, violet-colored blouse and a body-hugging gray skirt. Sitting there in her ultra-classy office, positioned behind her glass-topped desk, the woman looked sexy, confident, and self-assured. She also looked like someone who needed him.
He only wished he was someone she wanted in her life.
Amber looked up into Josh Craig's warm brown eyes and wondered why in the world the man was looking at her like she'd just issued a warrant for his arrest. His face had filled with the kind of dire expression she usually only saw on men who were being arraigned in court.
She smiled, guessing he'd had a late night the evening before. "Hard day?"
Somewhat hesitantly, he stepped further into her office. "Nah, just busy with work and getting the loan papers together."
"Right. That's the reason you're here. Please take a seat then, and let's get started." She waved to a set of chairs positioned in front of her desk, at the same time trying to ignore how good he looked all rough and scruffy straight from work. Tonight, for some strange reason, he was definitely scoring big on her list of what constituted a hunk.
"Right," he echoed stiffly, then took a seat and tossed a packet of papers onto her desk. "I think everything's okay. I looked the documents over pretty close, but it never hurts to have someone like you take a look, I guess."
She pulled the papers toward her and willed herself to stop acting so hormonal over the man. Instead, she told herself to treat him like any other client, but it was hard when her mind kept replaying how he'd looked half naked on Sunday afternoon. "Great. I'm glad you took the time to really read everything over. Oh, so you're getting your commercial loan from Lakeside Bank? Not the Bank of Cedar Point?" she questioned as she scanned the documents herself.
He nodded without concern. "Yeah, Lakeside is putting together a low-interest loan. I went to a few different places, but Lakeside was willing to work with me on short notice and give me a business loan quick enough. Hugh McKinney in the loan department served in Korea and has two sons serving right now. So when I went in and he saw on my application that I was a vet, we got to talking and he decided to give me a loan at a low rate, comparable to a VA loan, plus a line of extended credit for the remodel. I explained how I wanted to get moving with the renovations before winter, so Hugh signed on."
She was speechless. "Oh, well, that's great," she said, suddenly seeing another side of him. "So you have plans for the remodeling already? It's only been two weeks."
He grinned easily. "You know Marc Haines, don't you?"
She smiled with recognition. "Marc got on board and got the ball rolling," she concluded, knowing Stacy's husband's type-A personality and his ability to organize and plan when it came to building something. Qualities that made him a successful engineer and construction company owner.
"Marc had an architect buddy draw up plans and put together a building crew from some of his own construction guys and some subcontractors. They're gonna start next week. I already applied for building permits and even looked into some grant money to cover the renovation cost for the front of the building and landscaping. Cedar Point has improvement and restoration money available for any business in my area. I guess they want to restore the old-time retro feel, like they did in this part of town, and continue it throughout Cedar Point."
As she listened, she finally realized just how smart and ambitious he was---in the past, the guy had hid it well. "Marc is really a good friend. It's great he's helping out."
"Yeah, I'm lucky to have him on my good side," he joked.
"You guys have been friends for a long time, haven't you?"
"Since grade school." He grinned with the memory. "How about you and Stacy? Did you two meet in school?"
"College. We were both at Northwestern together."
He nodded. "Are you from the Chicago area then?"
"Yes, I am," she replied, surprised he was suddenly interested, since he'd never cared to know much about her before.
"So how did you end up moving to Detroit and now Cedar Point?"
She shrugged and glanced back down to scan the loan papers in front of her. "After college, Stacy moved back to Detroit, and I came and visited a few times while in law school. Nothing was holding me in Chicago, so after getting my law degree I decided to move to Detroit. I worked at a large firm until last year, when I decided Cedar Point would be a nice place to settle. Plus Marc and Stacy live here, and they're like family to me."
There was a silent pause. "Yeah, they are...aren't they," he finally murmured, seeming to ponder something. "Dillon stopped by the shop after school."
She looked up, shocked to find that Dillon Lange had actually followed through on something. "You're kidding."
He laughed. "I know. I was dumbfounded when he pulled up driving that heap he calls a car."
"He's very proud of that thing," she defended.
"Yeah, I could tell that when the guys started in on him and how he has the engine rigged. I didn't know if I should bust a gut laughing or fall down in amazement. So I just offered the kid a job instead."
She was momentarily stunned. "Oh, that's really sweet of you," she murmured. "Did he take it?"
He grinned cunningly. "Yeah, he did. But first I laid down the law and made a few rules and conditions for him to follow."
"Did Dillon actually agree?"
"Not willingly," he admitted. "Although he did finally cave in and accept the job, mainly because I purposely made it tough on him. Kids like that don't like or expect anything to be easy. By being hard on him, I actually made it easier for him to let his guard down and take the job. Does that make sense?"
"Yes, it does, oddly enough," she admitted---she had witnessed other foster kids similar to Dillon. "So how did you know how to handle someone like him?"
He grinned but looked slightly uncomfortable. "It's like looking in a mirror. I was the same way at that age. Thought I knew everything and generally pissed off at the world twenty-four seven."
She couldn't help but smile at his candid insight, besides finding herself not in the least surprised at what he'd just told her. "Well, thanks for giving him some focus in his life. His foster parents Ellen and Bob have tried everything to get him to participate in life, but up until now, nothing has worked."
He shifted uneasily in his chair and eyed her purposefully across the desk. "Yeah, well, sometimes things have to happen naturally in their own time. You can't force or plan them, especially with someone who is guarded and hesitant."
She nodded. He was pretty insightful for some ex-military Army Scout who was currently a mechanic. "Whatever you did, it seemed to work at the hockey game and again tonight after school. Dillon really needs something and someone in his life right now."
A sudden heartfelt expression arose on his unshaven face. "Yeah, everyone does, I guess."
Perplexed at his somber mood change, she decided to change the conversation back to why he was in her office. "So...all the papers seem to be in order, and I don't see anything that was overlooked."
"Uh, okay, that's great," he muttered, almost as an afterthought.
"Anything else I can do for you?"
He took a deep breath, seemingly debating something. "Yeah, there is," he stated cryptically as he gave her another intensely earnest glance. "If you ever need anything, call me, all right?"
She stared at him momentarily before finding her voice. "Yes...I will, thanks for the offer. But really, you didn't have to make it. I didn't mind staying late tonight to look over your papers. It was nothing, actually. So don't worry about it."
"My offer has nothing to do with the paperwork."
"Oh, well, in that case...thanks anyway." She shrugged, dismissing his strange behavior as she straightened the packet of papers and slipped them into the file folder. She pushed them across the desk to him and glanced up to find him looking at her with an intense gaze. Their eyes locked together for a few seconds before she looked away; the more she saw the guy, the more she was finding it hard to ignore just how nice he was. "Well, good luck, Josh," she offered, feeling a little breathless as she glanced back to him again.
He stood and looked down at her with the same deep, almost forceful expression. "Yeah, thanks, Amber. I guess I'll see ya around." He grabbed the packet of papers and bolted for the door.
She blinked and quickly stood, realizing he was doing the cut and run thing again. "Oh, right...goodbye," she whispered. She suddenly felt a heavy thud in her heart as she watched him abruptly stalk out of her office.
Strangely enough, it was the same feeling she'd experienced last night at the ice arena when she'd watched him walk out. She felt lonely, let down, heartbroken. Stunned, she slumped back into her buttery-soft leather chair and sat motionless for an entire minute, just thinking and replaying what had just taken place in her office. Finally, she realized---without a trace of doubt---that she was falling for J.T. Craig.
Straight, hard, and just like some big brainless rock.
Falling for a guy who represented everything she didn't want in her life. The type of man she'd spent her whole adult life avoiding. The kind of guy who epitomized the complete opposite of what she had envisioned for herself. But she couldn't deny it anymore. J.T. Craig was making her rethink her well laid-out life plan. Whether she wanted to rethink it or not.
"Yikes. Who got sent up the river this time?"
She jumped at the sound of her best friend's voice and quickly straightened upright in her chair. "Oh, Stacy, I didn't hear you come in."
Stacy Haines laughed as she walked up to Amber's desk. "Lose a case today?"
She shook her head and tried to clear her thoughts at the same time. "Actually, I won the Roberts case today," she admitted. She'd almost forgotten how incredible it had felt to win in court this morning.
Stacy made a face and plopped down into one of the chairs facing Amber's desk. "Ugh. I don't know how you can work with those people everyday knowing most of them are guilty."
"Everyone has the right to representation," she rebutted. "Plus the win this morning was very satisfying and justified, since I was a hundred percent sure that Mr. Roberts was wrongly accused of the crime. It was nice to see one of the good guys go home with his family instead of doing ten to twenty at the State Pen. So, for you information, not all of my clients are bad."
"Speaking of one of the good guys," Stacy started, raising a delicate eyebrow. "I just ran into Josh leaving your office, and by the looks of it, he was in a hurry to get somewhere. Oh yeah, I really hate to admit this, last night you were right about him having a date. He never showed up at Hugo's after the game, so he must have had something hot and heavy going on with some woman."
She shrugged and gathered some case files together before shoving them into her briefcase, at the same time shoving away the sudden hurt that filled her. "I told you that last night," she reiterated, now relieved she hadn't messed up his plans after the game.
"I'm surprised. Josh hasn't really been into anyone lately. Actually, he hasn't been into any woman for the past year," Stacy reflected, trying to get her attention.
"Mmm, that's too bad," Amber countered, noncommittal on the subject of J.T. Craig's love life, as she continued to shift through a stack of paperwork on her desk.
"Don't you think that's really weird? Some guy not finding one woman in the last year whom he wants to date more than once or twice?"
She shrugged again and played dumb. "Maybe the guy's just in a slump."
"Or maybe he's interested in someone who---"
"Stacy...!" she crabbed and looked up from her papers to glare across the desk at her well-meaning friend. "Josh Craig's sex life isn't my concern, and I think it's great he's seeing someone, and I really hope she's someone nice who doesn't mind putting up with his greasy work clothes and beer-hazed nights. Now, is there a reason you stopped by instead of texting me, or was it just to talk about some mechanic who's probably already hunkered down next to some babe on a barstool at Hugo's?"
Stacy smirked knowingly. "Okay, no more talk about men," she stated, though she looked anything but convinced that Amber didn't want to talk about her husband's best friend. "Actually, I was just passing by on my way home and wanted to know if you were up for a girl's day on Saturday. Lunch and a movie at my house? Marc and the guys are going hunting all day, so I thought I'd have some of the girlfriends and wives over for a little fun. What do you think?"
"I'm not a girlfriend or wife."
"Work with me on this one, will you?"
It was her turn to smirk now at Stacy's disgruntled expression. "Oh, all right, I'll come over, but only if you let me help with lunch."
Both laughed easily, since Stacy's cooking skills were limited to reheating or opening a takeout box. "I was hoping you would say that," Stacy admitted. "In fact, if you could bring a dessert that would be great. I'm picking up catered food from the The Golden Spoon for lunch, and I've already ordered some wine and champagne from Cedar Wine Cellars."
"Fancy fancy," Amber teased. She loved her friend's openness about her lack of culinary skills.
"Good food, booze, and dessert with a girl movie. And no men. What more could a woman ask for?" Stacy joked.
Amber raised an arched brow---her friend had just described most of her weekend nights. "I can't think of anything else."
"Good," Stacy concluded and rose to leave.
"See you on Saturday then."
"Saturday around one o'clock, and leave your briefcase at home, will you?" Stacy admonished. She smiled as she exited through the office door.
Good food, booze, and dessert with a girl movie. And no men. What more could a woman ask for? Amber swung around in her desk chair and stared out at the softly lit side street as a flurry of November snowflakes drifted by her office window.
What more could a woman ask for?
How about forgetting the food, booze and movie...and including one night with J.T. Craig?
\*\*\*\*
He didn't ask for much out of life.
Except to go home once in a while after a hard day at work, have some takeout food and a beer while watching his new flat-screen television, without the worry of backing up someone who was currently in a jam, mess, or a bar fight.
"Come on, Coop, just sit your ass down and shut the hell up," Josh tried once again, growling into his buddy's ear while Cooper Gerhardt bad-ass-mouthed some biker guy across the pool table in the back of Hugo's Bar.
Just another typical Wednesday night. He vowed this was his last time covering his buddy's back, since Coop had gone and done it again. Got drunk off his butt and was now not only tanked up, but looking for a good old brawl too.
This isn't how I envisioned my night going.
So what the hell ever possessed him to take that left at the end of Third Avenue instead of going straight and taking a right onto Pine Street and to his apartment above Johnson Hardware store? He could be home having a frozen pizza and a beer in private, thinking about the mega-loan he was saddling himself with, besides feeling frustrated about Amber Bradley.
Christ! Put that way, my night sounds like crap.
"Coop, if you don't get your ass on that barstool over there, I'll put your ass on it myself," he gritted out. He wasn't in the mood for games, altercations, or for three rounds with the big biker dude who looked like he'd done more than his share of hard time behind bars.
Coop staggered slightly and glanced over his shoulder. "Hey buddy! When did you get here?"
He ground his back teeth together. "Hell, I don't know? I guess about the time you called that guy over there 'a big mouth who didn't know crap about playing pool'...yeah, about then."
Coop laughed suddenly. "I really called him a big mouth f---"
"Sit!" Josh ordered loud and clear. He was nearing the end of his rope.
"All right, all right."
He watched as Coop staggered sideways over to the bar, slumped down onto one of the stools, and automatically raised his hand to get the bartenders attention. "Hey, Joe---"
"---two coffees," Josh shouted, before his coworker could issue an order for another shot or beer.
"Coffee?" Coop pondered out loud.
"Got a problem with that?" he challenged.
Coop eyed him through half closed lids and shook his head. "Nope! But can I have a shot of whiskey in mine?"
He gave Coop the standard hell no look while whipping down a five on the bar. "What do you think?" he snarled. At the same time, he felt close to picking up his buddy and whipping him back down the bar to the big biker dude.
"Can't blame a guy for trying," Coop stated and grinned wildly before sobering slightly. "Hey man, where in the hell did you go last night? I forgot to ask you at work. You didn't show here after the hockey game last night."
Josh shrugged and avoided looking directly at Coop's bleary stare. "Went home," was all he stated. He didn't want to admit he was too depressed from Amber's usual kick in the gut to go and have a beer after the hockey game. Instead he went home, tossed back a few shots and a beer, then fell onto his bed fully dressed in his new clothes before passing out bone tired and half drunk.
Joe the bartender placed two strong black coffees in front of them, and Josh took his, though he now wished it was a double shot of tequila. "So what the hell is goin' on with you tonight?"
Coop took his coffee and managed to take a drink while spilling only half of it on the bar. "Nothing, man. Leave it alone," he grumbled and avoided eye contact as he sat hunched over his cup of coffee.
Josh looked at Coop and guessed he should mind his own business, but for some reason he was tired of sidestepping things, avoiding stuff, and generally denying crap. "Sorry, man. Normally I don't give a crap what's happening in your life, but you just can't go out night after night drinking for months on end and not have it come back to bite ya in the ass at some point. Time to pay up and unload whatever it is, because as of tomorrow I'm gonna be your boss, and I'm not gonna put up with you coming into work half drunk or so hungover you can't see straight until noon."
Coop shrugged and let out a long, tired sigh. He placed one hand on the side of his head to hold himself up and keep from sliding down onto the bar. "Hey, man...just don't wait until it's too late. It's just shit if you wait too long," he mumbled, his eyes narrowed to slits.
"Too late for what?"
"Too late for everything," Coop gritted out, barely audible now.
"I don't get it." He still couldn't understand what was killin' his buddy, so much that the guy was drinking himself to death.
"I waited too long. I didn't know. Hell, she never said anything to me, and I just thought....I thought it was no big deal between us...so...then she just went and did it without telling me."
"You're not making any sense, Coop."
"What she did didn't make any sense," he bit back, sounding mean and ornery now.
"What did she do?" Josh asked quietly; part of him wanted to know, but part of him didn't.
Coop lifted his head up off the bar and slid from his barstool. He almost fell to the floor before Josh grabbed him around the chest.
"Hey---get your F'in hands off me," Coop snarled and wrenched free of Josh's hold in order to stagger to the door.
Josh followed him outside, where Coop landed square on his ass on the sidewalk out front of Hugo's, drunk once again. Totally and disgustingly wasted.
On cue, he grabbed Coop's truck keys out of his hand and hauled his ass down the street, pushed the guy into his own truck instead of Cooper's, then slammed the door for good measure. His back muscles suddenly burned with pain.
Ugh. Just my luck the guy has to be some big lug ex-pro hockey player on the other side of two hundred pounds.
Gingerly, he climbed in the driver's side and again started the engine of his old beat-up Chevy on the first try. He drove mindlessly over to Coop's condo as he replayed his buddy's words. The man was obviously killin' himself over some woman. That was the easy part to figure out. It was also the part he could empathize with. Although he guessed there had to be a lot more to the story.
Once across town, Josh finally pulled into the driveway of Coop's swanky lakeside condo unit. He could never figure out why the man wanted to be a mechanic when he was obviously loaded from his hockey-playing days and had a good head on his shoulders besides.
He killed the engine and looked over to his friend, who was now passed out against the passenger side door. He shook his head, still thrown for a loop to find out that all this time, a woman was behind what was burning Cooper Gerhardt up inside. He grimaced with sympathetic solidarity for his buddy and swore to himself that he wasn't going to end up like Coop: drunk, bitter, and filled with regret over some woman and what had gone down between them.
Christ, it was high time he moved on with his life, a life that had been on hold for the past year, ever since he'd laid eyes on Amber Bradley. He vowed that as of tonight, he was through trying to get the woman to notice him or hook up with him or generally acknowledge he was on the planet.
He'd be damned if he was going to spend one more night killing himself over her.
One night with J.T. Craig?
Who was she kidding? She wanted a whole month of nights with the guy.
Amber eyed him where he stood in the middle of Marc and Stacy's kitchen, wolfing down his third piece of layered tiramisu dessert without pausing to breathe. The man scraped his plate clean while dressed in dirty hunting camouflage pants, matching shirt and jacket, and a baseball cap, along with more than a few days' growth of dark stubble on his lean, contoured face. He seemed oblivious to anything else going on around him, focused only on his stomach and the Italian dessert she'd spent two hours making last night after work to bring to Stacy's all-girls Saturday afternoon. Which, by the looks of it, was over since the men had come back early from bird hunting to crash the women's movie. They'd also consumed most of the leftover lunch and dessert.
She watched him as he dumped his plate into the farmhouse-style kitchen sink and then unceremoniously ducked his head under the faucet to take a drink of water. Well, the guy was efficient, at least. She eyed him critically as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then with the sleeve of his hunting jacket.
Even dirty and acting like a caveman, the guy was turning her on.
How in the world did a man like J.T. Craig manage to sneak up on me?
She pursed her lips as she watched him help himself to some coffee, though he loaded the big pottery mug with more sugar and cream than coffee. She deduced he must have a sweet tooth. Another thing she would never have guessed about him. Helplessly, she found it more than just a little adorable.
Totally disgusted with herself and her thoughts, she turned away from him to continue loading the dishwasher drawer with dessert plates, wineglasses, and silverware. She also retrieved his plate and fork from the sink and added them in before pouring the required amount of soap into the dispenser. She closed the drawer, pushed the correct buttons, and at the same time wished she could just shove her feelings for him in there with the dishes and wash them away.
For the past month she had fantasized about the guy, toyed with the idea of having a one-night stand with him, and was now finally ready and more than tempted to make a move.
How sick was that?
Actually sick, weird, and just a little creepy.
She turned and looked to where he stood across the spacious kitchen, talking about hockey practice with some of the other men. It just didn't add up. What could she possibly find attractive in a man like that?
Are you kidding? The guy is hot, nice, sweet, considerate, and always looks at me like he wants to rip my clothes off or is wondering what I look like naked. Besides that, he's finally getting his act together and doing something with his life. He's also good with kids, and probably animals too. Not to mention I now know what he looks like under his clothes.
All right. Those are all good points. But the guy is also rough around the edges, tells lame jokes, never combs his hair, hasn't done a thing with his life for the past ten years, and up until last week didn't even own his own dress clothes.
She shook her head and willed away the image of how he looked standing semi-naked in the men's department of Henry and Son's.
Okay. So I can overlook his lack of a resume.
Plus, spending one night with him is worth ignoring the fact that he's currently arguing about whether or not a hockey puck can float in water.
Men.
\*\*\*\*
Josh turned and caught Amber looking at him while he talked crap with the guys. She looked strangely interested in him for once, or maybe she was mulling over the idea of calling the cops on him. Hell. Did it even matter anymore? He pushed away the usual nervous feeling and instead tried like hell to ignore just how hot she looked in those jeans and black almost see-through blouse. How in the world is a guy not supposed to get horny when she's wearing something like that?
But like he'd just told himself the other night, it didn't matter anymore.
His own words suddenly replayed in his mind: Sometimes things have to happen naturally in their own time. You just can't force or plan them for someone. Especially with someone who is guarded or hesitant---
Those were the same words he'd spoken in her office this past week regarding Dillon Lange getting a job at his garage. Only in hindsight did he realize they could apply to Amber. Those fateful words also made him finally accept the fact that it would be better just to cut his losses.
Wise move. Just leave it alone. Hey, the woman hasn't looked at me in the past year. Except the times she was asking me to repair her car or criticizing my clothes.
"Josh, are you with us, man?"
He shook off his conflicted thoughts and glanced over to Marc. "Ah, yeah, sure," he bluffed, though he had no idea what the hell he was agreeing to.
"Good, then we'll all meet up at The Brick Station with wives and girlfriends for dinner in an hour," Marc told the group of men gathered around the kitchen island.
"Uh---I was gonna---" he started, trying to find some way out of going with the group. He knew for a fact a night at home in his dumpy apartment with a pizza and a six pack of beer, plus college football on the flat-screen, was a hell of a better alternative than having Amber sitting smack dab across from him all night, making him even more frustrated than he already was. "---I mean, I was thinking of just heading home---"
"Yeah, I know," Marc interrupted. "They'll have the Michigan State game on at The Brick Station if that's what you're worried about, buddy. If we get there early we can get some stools at the bar and watch the first half."
"Hmph," was all he could counter, less than excited over the prospect of having his night arranged for him. No matter how hard he tried, it was impossible to avoid the woman whether he wanted to or not. He grimaced heavily. "Yeah, all right---count me in."
\*\*\*\*
Amber watched as he plunked down his empty coffee mug on the granite-topped island and stomped his way out of the French country-styled kitchen. Not looking in her direction, he bypassed the soapstone counter where she stood covering some lunch leftovers, with nothing less than a put-out expression on his face. She couldn't help but wonder why the man looked so ornery this afternoon. She'd picked up on it the minute the men had filed into the house a half hour ago. He'd scanned over Stacy's shabby-chic living room full of women and landed his brown eyes on her for a brief few seconds, almost grimacing, before he looked away. It not only perplexed her, but made her wonder what in the world she did to deserve such a grumpy, disgruntled glare.
"All set? Or do you need a few more minutes to commune with that bowl of pasta salad?"
She jumped at the sound of Stacy's voice and realized she had been on pause for the past few minutes, just staring down at the side dish she was supposed to be covering. "Ha, ha. Everyone's a comedian." She smirked guiltily at her friend.
"So, do you want to drive with us or take your own car?"
"Where?" she questioned and lifted the heavy pottery bowl of leftovers to take over to the refrigerator.
"To The Brick Station," Stacy informed. "We're all going there for dinner in about an hour."
She placed the covered bowl in the refrigerator and closed the custom paneled door, feeling torn in two. On one hand, the idea of spending the evening as a single woman with a group of couples was right up there with her annual visit to the gynecologist. On the other hand, if J.T. Craig would be there, it might not be so bad.
Bad idea, Amber. A one-night stand with him is the dumbest idea you've ever had. Wise up. Nothing good can come from sleeping with your best friend's husband's best friend.
Are you kidding? Remember what the man looks like half naked?
"Sounds like a plan," she stated quickly, before she could change her mind or use any kind of rational logic. "But I think I'll run home and change first and meet you there." For her own benefit, she conveniently left out the fact that she wanted to change into some sexier clothes that were sure to get his attention. Minus the disgruntled looks, she hoped.
She grabbed her fur-hooded, silver-gray parka-style jacket and headed for the door. Outside, she descended the full driveway to the street where her Mercedes was parked. She noticed the hood of Josh's truck was propped open wide while the man himself was bent over the engine, swearing up a storm over something inside.
Mmm? Not exactly how I planned to start the night with him...but it works for me.
\*\*\*\*
"Did it die for good this time?"
Josh clamped his mouth shut on the next string of curses and glanced over his shoulder to see Amber grinning at him beside his piece-of-crap truck. "Looks that way," he grumped and turned back to tinker with the carburetor, guessing the float was stuck.
"Need a lift to the restaurant or home?"
He shrugged and knew his life was just plain crap. He finally got Amber Bradley all to himself, and he had to turn her down. It was probably just as well, since he'd just sworn off the woman for good. Besides, the last thing he was in the mood for was to spend the night like some celibate monk, pretending he wasn't turned on by her.
"Nah, I have to go over to the police station and see if I can bail out my buddy Coop again," he told her, pissed about spending his night at the local clink, since Coop had texted him a few minutes ago to inform him that he'd been hauled in once again.
She smiled suddenly. "Actually, I could go with you and help get him out."
He stopped wrenching on the carburetor and raised his head to turn and look at her again. The woman wanted to spend her Saturday night helping me bail my buddy's ass out from the local slammer? Hell, she was every guy's dream woman. "I think I can handle it."
"I don't mind," she offered again, as she moved around to the front of the truck.
"Don't you have a date or something?" he grumped.
"Not tonight."
"Hmph, too bad," he gritted out. He wished to God she would stop leaning down over the engine like that, since her coat was wide open and her blouse was unbuttoned too low, giving him an eyeful of her breasts.
"So I'm all yours," she teased, just a little breathless and airy. "All night."
Christ! All night? If the woman only knew. He shrugged like he didn't freakin' care and gave in way too easily. "Suit yourself." He turned back to the messed-up motor of his truck. He was now more than pissed at himself for caving, especially after all his big talk about vows and staying away from her and moving on with his life.
"Great, then let's go. But maybe we should take my car," she offered. "Since I'm pretty sure your truck is going towards the light right now."
He laughed reluctantly, unable to keep up his hard-ass routine when she said those offbeat things to him. "Yeah, looks that way," he returned with an added grin. Defeated, he straightened and slammed the hood of his useless truck down with a loud thud.
"Here---you drive," she instructed and tossed him the car keys. "I'm pretty sure you know your way to the police station."
He grabbed the keys out of the air and grinned sheepishly as he followed her over to her car. "Lady, you'd be shocked to find out just how well I know my way around that place, besides knowing how to get there."
"I can just imagine," she stated with a teasing smile.
He opened the passenger side door for her and watched her slide in. He would never have believed his night would turn out this way; he and Amber Bradley having a date at the local lockdown together. He wasn't sure if he felt like some lucky son of a bitch or some big time loser.
He walked around, got behind the wheel, and automatically adjusted the seatback for his long legs before he started the engine and pulled out. The feeling of being right, familiar, and content coursed through him unexpectedly as they drove together, catching him off guard big time.
"So how did Dillon work out this week?" she finally asked.
He shrugged amicably, relieved they had a neutral topic to discuss as they traveled the short distance to the downtown area of Cedar Point. "Amazingly good for someone who's made a living of stripping off car parts to resell."
She nodded. "It's quite the legitimate turnaround for him. I'm just glad he's finally taking some responsibility for himself."
"Yeah, along with a little help from all the guys at work, who've been watching him like a bunch of prison guards whenever he's around."
She laughed easily. "That's very reassuring."
"Tell me about it," he admitted with a sarcastic tone, as he laughed along with her.
He pulled up to the newly built all-brick Cedar Point Justice Center and quickly found a place to park behind a row of patrol cars. Together they walked into the lobby of the police department, where he immediately headed to the main desk with a uniformed officer behind it. The middle-aged, pudgy, and slightly balding officer grimaced openly at him before throwing down his pen in apparent disgust.
"Hell, don't you Craigs ever take a weekend off from this place?" the police sergeant snarled with a combative tone.
Josh just grinned and shrugged imperturbably---he knew exactly how far he could push Ned Anderson. "Aw, come on, Ned, I just wanted to come in for old times' sake. I kinda miss the place."
Officer Anderson didn't look amused. "Stop wasting my time, Craig," he grumped back. "What are ya here for?"
"Excuse us for a moment, Officer, will you?" Amber interrupted and pulled Josh by the arm over a few feet.
"What?" he inquired, still smirking from his encounter with the now pissed police sergeant.
"Give me a dollar."
"Why?"
"I need a dollar as a retainer fee. Then I can proceed to get your friend out of jail, and we can go to dinner," she instructed and held out her hand.
He opened his mouth to argue but decided against it. The faster Cooper got out of the slammer, the faster he could get on with his night. He relented with a groan, pulled out his wallet and placed a dollar bill in her upturned hand. As soon as he did, she walked around him and went straight up to the police officer behind the check-in desk without any further words between them.
"Officer, I'm Amber Bradley, and I would like to see my client, Cooper---" she started, then turned to look back at him.
"---Gerhardt," he quickly filled in.
She turned back to the officer. "---Cooper Gerhardt. I believe you're detaining him? Plus I would like to see a copy of the arrest report, and if the officer who brought him in is still here, I would like to talk to that person too," she demanded firmly.
The big, burly sergeant let out a tired sigh. "Oh God, just my luck---a lawyer. I thought I recognized you when you came in," he grumbled, but reached for a phone without putting up a fight. He summoned another officer to the front lobby, then dug through a stack of papers piled next to him on the other side of the desk. "Here." Unceremoniously, he pushed a thick file towards her.
She took the folder, opened it and scanned the top sheet quickly. "Mmm, doesn't look too bad," she concluded and quickly shuffled through the other sheets in the folder.
"How bad is 'not too bad'?" Josh asked. He felt slightly stunned as he watched her in action.
She looked up from the police report and smiled with confidence. "Let's just say the man isn't drunk, so that's a plus, and it will speed up the process for sure."
"Really? Not drunk?"
"No. He tested below the legal limit. But they still hauled him in on some prior warrant listed on his rap sheet. In my opinion, it looks like it should have been cleared from his record, but somehow it was overlooked. I just need to talk to Mr. Gerhardt and then make a phone call."
Dumbfounded at how good the woman was at her job, he just nodded. "Great," he added. "And thanks again, Amber."
"No problem." She smiled warmly, then turned to follow the arresting officer back through lock-up and out of sight.
With nothing to do he waited in the lobby, pacing back and forth for a full half hour, as a protective, possessive feeling gripped his gut. Even though he knew it was a part of her job to come here and work with clients, it still didn't make it any better for him knowing something could happen to her back there. He definitely felt anything but cool with the idea of her being locked behind steel doors. If she was his wife, there was no way in hell he'd let her anywhere near this place. He stopped pacing and rolled that idea around. Wife? Not in his lifetime, considering he was fighting an uphill battle when it came to her. A battle filled with drunk, needy friends, a past that was less than stellar on his part, and the fact she only dated straight-laced professional types.
After ten more minutes of pacing, the massive steel door finally opened again, producing Amber and a very sober and serious-looking Cooper Gerhardt.
"So?" Josh inquired. He guessed she must have managed to bail his friend out, since the guy was trailing right behind her through the justice center lobby.
"Piece of cake," she teased and laughed at his worried expression as she glided next to him.
Cooper followed behind and then stood in front of them. "Yeah, the woman had those cops running around in circles back there." He looked like he had just spent a long weekend behind bars already. His clothes were rumpled, he was unshaven, and his shaggy brown hair was conspicuously matted in places, plus he looked like he hadn't slept in days.
Amber nodded as she addressed Cooper. "This was an easy one. I just had to make a call to the judge who originally dismissed that warrant. Luckily I know her personally, since her daughter is friends with my friend Katie, so she confirmed to the arresting officer over the phone that she had indeed wiped that warrant from your record last month. You were very lucky she was in a good mood tonight and didn't make you wait until Monday to have her court officer do it."
Coop shrugged. "Hell, that's all and good, but can't I file some kind of complaint about being hauled in here tonight for no good reason?"
She frowned and shook her head in exasperation. "Mr. Gerhardt, if I were you I would just thank my lucky stars you're free right now. Besides, with your recently acquired rap sheet, I would advise you not to push your luck with the legal system."
"All right, all right." Cooper gave in with the look of some pupil before a reprimanding teacher.
"If it's any consolation, you might get the judge to take something off your record the next time you're hauled in front of her," she offered. "But don't count on it."
"Man, are you for real?" Josh interjected and shook his head. He was ready to kick the guy's sorry ass right back down the hall into lock-up himself.
Coop shrugged and grinned devilishly. "Just thought I'd ask."
"I think you can go and reclaim your personal items from the officer over there," Amber instructed, sounding more than irked at Cooper Gerhardt's lack of good sense. "Also, on Monday morning I want you to stop by my office and give my assistant some personal information. I always keep detailed files on every client."
"But I didn't pay ya anything," Coop stated; he looked put out that she was giving him orders left and right. "So I'm not really your client."
"No, you didn't. But Josh paid me a dollar as a retainer fee," she stated. "So actually you are my client, Mr. Gerhardt, and I'm your lawyer tonight, whether you like it or not. By paying, Josh gave me attorney-client privilege to look at your file and to represent you tonight."
Coop looked sheepishly put down. "All right...well, thanks," he mumbled and shifted his feet uncomfortably, his hands jammed into the front pockets of his wrinkled pants.
"You're welcome."
Coop turned to look at Josh now. "Guess I'll go get my stuff, and then we can go get my truck from the impound lot and go have a beer. Sound good, buddy?"
Josh couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Hell no. We're not going for beers tonight. At least you're not." The guy needed some serious talking to. In addition to a knock upside the head.
Coop shrugged carelessly and scratched his side. "Suit yourself. I'll go alone." With a yawn, he sauntered over to retrieve the personal items that had been confiscated from him earlier.
Amber turned away from Cooper Gerhardt's sorry-looking departing figure to eye Josh again. "Well, I hope he isn't expecting me to make a repeat visit here later tonight."
"I don't know what to say. I'm sorry he's being such a jerk," he apologized. "That's not Coop at all. But lately he's been going through some problems."
She nodded, obviously understanding. "I guessed it was something like that."
He shook his head, bewildered over what to do at this point: stay with Coop or go with her. Neither option looked or felt right. "So now what?"
"Well, I don't think there's anything left for me to do, so...guess I'll get going."
He looked at her and realized his night was shot to hell for good. "Suppose I should stay with Coop and make sure he gets home." He guessed he now resembled something close to a combination of disgruntled babysitter and mean-spirited parole officer all wrapped into one.
"That sounds like a good plan to me," she offered, clearly trying to soften his fate for the rest of his Saturday night.
"Only time will tell," he stated ominously, with a quirked brow. "How about I walk you to your car?"
She nodded and smiled slightly. "Sounds good. Thanks, Josh."
He followed her out of the police department and back across the now darkened parking lot, trying to think of some way to salvage his night. No options looked good at the moment. "So, you headed over to meet up with everyone yet?"
She shrugged. "No, I think I'll just call it a night and head home and watch a movie or something."
He unlocked her car door for her and handed her back the car keys before he opened it. "Thanks for what you did in there, anyhow," he offered, more than frustrated at how his night was turning out, though he guessed it was for the best.
"You're welcome," she said simply and eyed him with a thoughtful expression. "And for what it's worth, you're a really good friend, Josh."
His only response was to narrow his eyes and growl long and low, which made her laugh as she got into her car. Standing in the middle of the Cedar Point Justice Center parking lot, he watched her drive out of the shadowy parking lot and down the street, just as the usual defeated feeling reappeared in his gut.
He blew out a long breath from his lungs, then turned back and walked towards the Justice Center entrance for a second time that evening, sure that he was either going to kill Cooper Gerhardt the minute he got his hands on the asshole, or slap him on the back and thank him for his perfectly timed intervention. The jerk had kept him from acting like some kinda junkie with a bad habit, since he still couldn't help but try and hook up with Amber every time she was around.
So much for good intentions.
He now knew it was a total waste of time to even try and stay away from her.
"I know just the man for you."
"Actually, my nephew Brice is available. Well, almost. His divorce is final next week."
"Why not my Lawrence? He's got a good job at the public library, he doesn't drink, and he likes to play cards with us when we need a fourth at bridge."
Amber staunchly stood in line four, with the usual Hollywood tabloids displayed promptly alongside Rosemary Henderson's local homemade caramels, and listened halfheartedly as the three older green-smocked checkout ladies of the local SuperMart took charge of her personal affairs. She wasn't quite sure how they'd gotten on the subject of her love life, when she'd only asked about the coupon regarding the free can of pumpkin pie filling.
"Both men sound too good to be true," she countered, trying hard to keep the mocking tone out of her voice. "But I was just wondering about the pumpkin pie filling? Is that coupon still good?"
"Men love home-baked pies," Marge stated, nodding her freshly permed head.
"I read somewhere that the aroma of pumpkin pie turns men on," Iris announced seriously as she eyed Amber through her cat-eye glasses, circa late sixties.
"You should just buy a pumpkin, carve it up, and bake it. Much better than canned, sweetie," Helen suggested. She tugged her too small smock down over her very robust farmwife figure and grinned broadly.
Amber nodded and smiled politely to all three checkout ladies, at the same time thinking that she was domestic, but not that domestic. Nor did she think she was that desperate yet, where she had to resort to using a pie to trap a man. "I think I'll go with the canned all the same," she firmly stated, wondering how to get "Iris," her checkout lady, to ring her up minus the baking and love-life advice from all three. She was tired from working all day and just wanted to go home and change out of her dress and heels.
"Personally, I'd screw the canned stuff and get a frozen pie and just keep Lawrence Smyth in mind if you ever need a bowling buddy," a deeply gruff voice whispered into her ear.
She giggled effortlessly and turned to see a grinning, unshaven, greased-up straight-from-work Josh Craig, who looked highly amused at her grocery line predicament. "Really? Because I'm very tempted," she whispered to him. "I mean about the fresh pumpkin."
He grinned wickedly and shrugged. "Hey, that's all the advice I've got for today. Take it or leave it," he joked, plunking down his three frozen pizzas, gallon of chocolate milk, pound bag of strawberry Twizzlers, and one apple on the conveyer belt behind her items.
She eyed his selections. "Thanksgiving dinner?"
He chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, just the bare essentials for a single guy."
"Have any plans for the holiday tomorrow?" She assumed he'd probably just get his Thanksgiving dinner served to him across some dimly lit bar.
"Yeah, just goin' to my folks' place like usual."
She was taken aback, to say the least. Josh Craig had parents? "You have family in town? I didn't know that."
He eyed her slyly. "Sort of," he admitted. "Actually, my whole family lives in town. To tell you the truth, I'd put them in the category of a clan or an unruly mob rather than a family."
Shocked to find out he came from a large family unit, she decided to subtly redirect her questioning. "Really? Oh, I had no idea you had so many family members here in Cedar Point."
"Yeah, every last one of them lives in town. I've got three brothers and four sisters, and most are married with kids. Besides that, I've got six uncles and ten aunts, and too many cousins if you ask me," he joked darkly.
"Are you the oldest or youngest?"
"Second from the top."
"Interesting," she pondered, considering her next line of interrogation, just as a flash popped into her mind of Stacy saying interesting to her in the kitchen during the housewarming party. Right after she had informed her BFF of Josh's reaction to her plan to have six children some day. In hindsight, she finally understood why her friend made that comment and why he had looked at her so strangely that night. Apparently he was well versed when it came to large families and lots of kids.
"Interesting?" He narrowed his eyes and quirked a dark, mocking brow. "Guess that's one way to look at it."
"So you all get together at your parents' then for Thanksgiving?" she drilled, wanting more info.
With an indifferent shrug, he reached in front of her to grab a handful of beef jerky strips, adding them to his items already on the conveyor. "Yeah, every last Craig is there, whether they wanna be or not."
She had always dreamed of being part of a large family and felt a flash of envy, but she knew her dream would never come true and had come to terms with that fact long ago. "Sounds like it's probably a lot of fun having a big family like that in town, especially at the holidays," she cross-examined, prompting thoughtfully as if she were in court.
"Holidays, yes---the rest of the year it sucks," he admitted, with a ruthless grin. "Living in Cedar Point as a Craig is like having a private twenty-four-hour surveillance team watching you three hundred and sixty-five days of the year."
"Better than not having anyone who wants to watch you," she countered.
He shrugged, viewing it from her perspective. "Yeah, guess I never thought of it that way before."
"Mmm, well, I think your family sounds great."
"Yeah? Maybe you'll have to come over and find out for yourself some time," he teased, his eyes warm and inviting.
"Seriously?" she breathed, as she tried to keep herself from smiling.
He moved closer to her, his voice husky now. "Think you could stand to be seen with me?"
Her pulse quickened. The man couldn't be serious. "I guess I could put up with you for one day."
"Really? I would never have guessed it," he mocked.
"Well, you'll never know if you don't ask."
"True, but then again, I don't know what you'll say if I do ask."
"Are you man enough to find out?" she baited with a shameless smirk.
He shook his head and smiled sexily again. "Lady, my recent record with asking women to meet my family is zero out of ten. The odds don't look good from where I'm standing."
She giggled and decided to call his bluff, proceeding to drill him with her best defense attorney voice. "Have you ever really asked a girl to come home and meet your family, Mr. Craig?"
He grinned with a sheepish look. "Hell no."
"So, hypothetically, since your record is really zero-zero, what do you have to lose if you were to ask me?"
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe pride? My dignity? Self-worth?"
"All of which are highly overrated."
"Yeah, I actually dumped those years ago after being shot down by women time and again."
She laughed at his self-mocking humor. "I wouldn't worry about it. Those particular women probably weren't up to the challenge of meeting your family anyhow."
"You make a good point."
"So that leaves me then. Think I'd be able to survive your family's holiday?"
He narrowed his eyes as if he were really pondering her question. "Mmm? I guess if you can deal with hardened criminals and felons, you should be able to withstand the Craig family."
She couldn't help but laugh again at his humor and at the same time wish the man would stop playing with her and just come out and ask her over for real. "What girl can turn down an offer like that?"
"Trust me---a lot of girls can."
Unaware of their surroundings, they just stood rooted to the spot in line four, secretly grinning at one another over his self-inflicted dig. "Lucky for me," she taunted honestly. Her body temperature rose every time he looked her over with those eyes of his.
"I'm sorry to butt in, you two...but that will be twelve dollars and sixty-two cents!"
Amber jumped and quickly unlocked her eyes from his. They'd been totally oblivious to the fact they were holding up the grocery line throughout their intimate banter. "Oh, sorry," she blurted to Iris, then quickly dug in her purse for her wallet and produced the correct amount.
"So, are you doin' anything tomorrow? I suppose you're probably going over to either Marc or Stacy's parents' place?" he asked from behind her.
She stuffed her wallet back into her sleek black purse, snapped it closed and turned to look at him again, now more than aware they had a captive audience listening. "No, actually I've been invited over to the Bergstroms for Thanksgiving dinner at one o'clock."
"The Bergstroms only live two blocks over on Walnut Street from your parents' home, Josh," Iris interjected, looking way too pleased with herself.
"Actually, the Bergstroms live on Hickory Street, one over from your parents' place, Josh," Helen shouted loud and clear from her checkout.
"They're on Oak, just two blocks from your mom and dad's." Marge sounded very sure of herself. "My daughter lives on Oak, and I know the Bergstrom house is just three doors down from her place."
Josh cleared his throat uncomfortably and looked like he didn't know what to say. "Thanks, ladies, for the information," he replied hesitantly. Clearly, the man was now wishing he hadn't decided to checkout in line four. "Always good to know."
She tried not to smile at how uneasy he looked---after all, he was roped and cornered. Oh well, the big family holiday sounded kinda fun, but I guess I can cut him a break. "I'll see you soon, Josh," she said quietly, letting him off the hook, since he looked sincerely caught off guard. Besides, he hadn't been able to pick up on her subtle hints anyhow. Typical male. "Have a good Thanksgiving."
\*\*\*\*
He groaned inwardly, a self-tortured sound in his mind that was long, hard, and painful.
"You too, Amber," he gritted out, feeling like he had just taken two steps forward with the woman and now five back.
Thwarted, he watched as she picked up her bag of groceries and sauntered sexily out of the grocery store. Now he half-wished he would have just sucked it up and suggested her coming over for real tomorrow. But there was no way in hell he would ask her out standing in line at the local SuperMart after work, especially with Helen, Iris, and Marge listening to his every word---all three ladies conveniently being bowling cronies and card playing partners of his mother's. Besides close family spies.
"That's twenty-one dollars and fifty-seven cents!" Iris grumped and added a dirty look, all as she bagged his grocery items with an attitude.
"Now what?" he moaned, though he didn't really want to know what he'd done to deserve such a look. The kind of look he usually only received from his mother when she was hopping mad at him about something.
"How are you ever going to get married, Joshua Trenton Craig, if you don't ask a woman out?" Iris admonished. Her beady blue eyes burned bright through her cat-eyed, plastic-rimmed glasses. "Your mother is right! You just don't want to get married!"
Marge swept a freshly permed curl back into place while looking more than perplexed. "I'm confused here, young man. I thought you two had gone out already. My daughter Cindy told me she saw you and Amber Bradley shopping together a few weeks ago at Henry and Son's when they had that good sale going in the men's department."
"That's right. Barb, my next-door neighbor, told me her daughter saw you two together at The Brick Station having drinks earlier in the month," Helen added. "Too bad it didn't work out, sweetie."
He gritted his back teeth together and prayed for restraint. Nothin' like livin' in a small town. He whipped out his wallet and slapped down a ten and a twenty onto the checkout counter. "First of all, ladies, I wasn't having drinks with Amber that night, and we weren't exactly shopping together that day, and as for getting married, I hope to someday---when I find the right woman."
"What's wrong with Amber Bradley? She looks like good wife material."
"The woman is smart and pretty. What more do you want?"
"Your mother Gina told me she's given up on ever seeing you get married and having children of your own. That's very sad for a mother to admit, Josh."
My mother the drama queen. As if having eleven grandkids wasn't enough already. "Believe me, ladies, I'm working on the wife thing," he countered. He definitely felt outranked and outmaneuvered.
"Well, it was crystal clear the woman wanted you to ask her out, or at least ask her over tomorrow for Thanksgiving."
"Oh, definitely clear from where I was standing that she was open to a date at least."
"No doubt about it, she was interested. Women can tell these things, you know."
Still doubtful about the whole situation, he eyed the three well-meaning but opinionated checkout ladies, not believing he was starting to actually listen to them---and starting to cave to popular opinion. He took his change from Iris and narrowed his eyes at all three ladies. "Yeah? You think so?"
"I could see it a mile off."
"No question about it."
"Just ask already!"
He stuffed his wallet into his back pocket and weighed the ladies' info, not sure what to believe. "Mmm, we'll see," he stated guardedly. He left them with no clue as to how the soap opera scenario would turn out---if he even hinted he might ask Amber out, she would know about it way before he got to ask her himself.
"She's not going to be single forever, you know."
"You're not the last man in town either, Josh Craig."
"Your poor mother."
He didn't know if he should laugh hysterically or grimace in acute pain.
"Ladies, have a nice evening and happy Thanksgiving," he offered, picking up his grocery bag before thankfully heading to the front entrance.
He left Cedar Point's SuperMart still determinedly poker-faced and tight-lipped on the subject of Amber Bradley and his love life.
Maybe you'll have to come over and find out for yourself sometime.
Think you could stand to be seen with me?
That was blatant flirting if she'd ever heard it. Josh Craig had actually flirted with her. Could the guy have been any cuter?
Standing in line with those grubby work clothes on, with that killer grin on his handsome face, the man had her melting on the spot. Besides looking adorably uncomfortable when the three checkout ladies cornered him regarding how close his parents lived to the Bergstrom's. How cute was that?
"You're smiling to yourself again."
Amber shook herself out of her Josh Craig daydreams and looked down at Katie Kaminski. "I wasn't smiling, exactly," she lied uneasily.
"Yes, you were," the younger tween debated. "We've been washing dishes for the past twenty minutes, and you've done it three times already. It's kinda weird."
"Sorry, I'll stop," she promised, though she still found herself smiling slightly.
"So why are you so happy?"
She picked up another one of Helen Bergstrom's good Johnson Brothers china plates and wiped it as if her life depended on it. "I'm not happy."
"Yeah, you are," Katie countered once again. "Like creepy happy. It's almost like you have a secret or something."
She placed the china plate on the stack next to the sink and picked up another, this time totally avoiding the younger girl's all-knowing glare. "I don't have a secret. Today is Thanksgiving, and I'm just happy to be here with you and the Bergstroms, that's all."
"Yeah, right," Katie said and rolled her blue eyes.
"All right then, what big secret could I possibly have?"
"I don't know? You tell me."
"Katie Kaminski, I don't have anything to tell. My life consists of going to work, then going home after work, to work some more." Plus my life now includes flirting with men in the grocery line at the SuperMart after work.
"That's weird, because you sorta look like the high school girls do on the bus when they're talking about their boyfriends." Katie still eyed her suspiciously. "Do you have a boyfriend finally?"
She sighed heavily. "No, and if I did you'd probably know about it before me."
Katie rolled her eyes again with a scrunched-up face. "Boyfriends. Ugh! Let's talk about something else."
"Fine." She laughed. "How about doing some Christmas shopping at the mall tomorrow? I know we have our Detroit shopping day planned in a few weeks, but I could take a few hours off at lunchtime tomorrow and we could check out some after-holiday sales at the local mall."
Katie smiled in agreement. "Sweet. I'm up for it," she announced happily and took the stack of dried plates over to the china hutch, her strawberry-blonde ponytail swinging along her back as she went.
Amber watched her and realized she had indeed been caught red-handed, grinning stupidly over Josh and what had transpired between them last night in the checkout line, which included flirting, staring at one another, and generally getting hot and bothered together.
It left her very warm, confused, and also filled with regret.
She was now very much regretting the fact he wasn't ever going to really ask her out. In all truth, she had no one to blame but herself. She'd pushed him away time and again, ignored him too much, and turned him down one too many times. The guy was gun shy to say the least.
No kidding. For the last year, I've done nothing but shoot down every attempt he's made to ask me to dance, offer a ride to the lake, go for a beer, request a refill on chili, come watch him play hockey, and any suggestion he's ever had about anything in general.
Is it no wonder the man isn't going to attempt anything this late in the game?
"Good point," she mumbled to herself as she took the large roaster cover from the drain board to wipe dry.
"Looks good in here, ladies," Helen Bergstrom announced, coming from the dining room with her arms full of table linens and napkins. "Thanks for helping with the dishes, Amber."
"No problem." She smiled back. "It's the least I can do since you asked me to join you today. It was great coming over here and being able to spend the day with Katie, Dillon, Bob, and yourself."
"It was fun, wasn't it?" Helen smiled and dumped the stacks of table linens on the kitchen counter as she glanced out the kitchen window over the sink. "Oh, Dillon is coming in with someone."
Amber set the roaster down on the counter and turned just as Dillon came through the back door with Josh in tow. An edgy awareness spread through her while she watched him first greet Helen, politely introducing himself as Dillon's boss, before turning to look further into the kitchen to where she stood. His dark gaze gripped hers for a few seconds before he finally grinned and nodded to her.
"Amber," he said simply, before he turned to shake hands with Bob Bergstrom, who had joined them in the kitchen. The middle-aged, Detroit auto worker immediately warmed to Josh's easygoing personality and friendly demeanor, as both men and Dillon entered a discussion on the just ended Detroit Lions football game and how they had lost again this year.
"So I suppose I should get to the real reason I came over here this afternoon," Josh finally explained. He briefly glanced in Amber's direction, then away, as she finished drying the rest of the pots and pans that wouldn't fit into the dishwasher. "Dillon, you up for some hoops this afternoon? I need a fifth guy for my team. If there's no snow in the driveway, the Craigs always do a traditional Thanksgiving Day basketball tournament. We've got three full teams, and we just need one more guy to make it an even four."
"Aw, man," Dillon moaned with typical teen angst. "You mean I have to save your sorry ass again? Wasn't it bad enough that you forced me to play on your old dude hockey team?"
"Not that good at hoops, huh?"
"Shi...I mean...hell yeah, I'm good. Too good to be playing with you, old man," Dillon smarted back.
"All talk, man," Josh challenged.
"All right already," Dillon grumped for show, not sounding the least put out that he had to be talked into playing basketball. "Guess I can save your sorry butt again."
"Thanks for nothing," Josh joked with a grin as he glanced over to Amber again. "Are you up for meeting the tribe this afternoon?"
He wants me to meet his monstrous family? Nothing could have surprised her more. She was speechless. "Ah...sure," she blurted out, not really sure in the least.
"Can I come too?" Katie piped in with a hopeful look.
"Sure squirt, why not?" he offered and winked at the younger girl.
"Well, as for me, I'm going to go and have my usual Thanksgiving nap. That's the Bergstrom tradition around here." Bob chuckled before shaking Josh's hand again and excusing himself.
"And I'm going to put my feet up and watch some television and read. Have fun and don't hurry back," Helen instructed. She beamed a bright, telling smile in Amber's direction as she exited the kitchen.
Dillon and Katie immediately grabbed their jackets and were outside by the time Amber took her coat out of the closet next to the back door. She quickly zipped up her silver parka-style jacket and headed to the door, with Josh reaching around her to open it. Outside, the kids were already headed down the driveway as Josh kept pace next to her. Amber found herself somewhat shocked to be suddenly headed over to his parents' big Thanksgiving holiday---she'd assumed he'd only played around last night with the idea of her coming over to meet his family.
"Um, I don't know if I'm dressed right? Is your family pretty informal?" she asked, more than nervous, expectant, and unsure of what she had just agreed to.
"Are you kidding?" He eyed her casual jeans and jacket and laughed. "Our family motto is 'It's not a Craig family holiday until someone throws up or goes to the emergency room.'"
She found herself laughing along with him; just like she did any other time she was with the man. "That's certainly interesting," she stated. She smiled as he glanced down at her, and their eyes locked again until she relented and looked ahead. She felt more than nervous, not because she was about to meet his family, but because he was able to get to her time and again.
Silently they walked side by side in the cold November air. The crunch of dried leaves beneath their feet made up for the lack of conversation as they made their way down one block of pre-World War II homes and around the corner, with Dillon and Katie ahead of them.
"So...Cooper finally stopped in the office the other morning," she stated, finally thinking of something to say. "I can't believe he did so willingly on his own. Any idea what motivated him to come in and have Brook put him in our files like I requested he do?"
He looked sheepish and shrugged carelessly. "Guess I mentioned to him that if he didn't get his ass over to your office, he wasn't gonna like the job I had lined up for him in the afternoon."
She laughed---she'd already known Josh had something to do with Cooper Gerhardt's sudden appearance at her office. "Mmm, I thought it might be something like that."
"Yeah, and the weird thing is that the guy tore out of the garage royally pissed and swearing and came back an hour later all happy, whistling and acting weird. Besides all that, he hasn't gotten drunk since. Kinda strange if you ask me."
"Really? That is strange." She thought back to when Cooper had been in her office; she hadn't noticed anything that could have made a life-altering change in the man.
"Creepy is more like it."
She smiled and changed the subject. "So how is the shop remodeling going?"
"Good. The construction crew poured the foundation for the addition, got it framed in with the roof on too. The addition will be the showroom/reception area and new office space. Next week they'll close it up with windows and do insulation and then take down the wall between the old and new construction. Meanwhile, the guys and I are trying to figure out a way to keep working while we update and remodel the garage area. I might have to put up a temporary shelter with heaters for us all to work in so I can keep on schedule and where we should be profit wise."
"Sounds like a good plan."
"You'll have to stop over some time and check out the progress. I'll give you a tour of the layout." He sounded genuinely excited about what was taking place in his life.
"Great, I will," she whispered, more than happy for him but at the same time suddenly getting a panicky feeling in her stomach.
They walked around another block of old, established homes with a tight silence between them. "Something wrong?" he questioned, somehow sensing her change in mood.
"I'm nervous," she blurted out, looking up at him. "What if your family doesn't like me?"
He just grinned and laughed. "Hell, I'm not worried about that," he confessed. "I'm just afraid you won't like them. But look at the upside---at least you get to leave, and you never have to come back if you don't wanna, unlike me."
She thought he sounded just like someone under house arrest. "That's supposed to reassure me?"
"Trust me. My family is gonna like you. Although my brothers will probably give ya crap for showing up with a loser like me---their opinion, not mine---and my sisters will talk your ear off, and my mom will stuff you with dessert and then make you play cards. Oh yeah, my old man will have to know what kind of car you drive."
She didn't know if she should laugh or cry.
"Besides all that, the brother and sister-in-laws will probably give you the sympathy look since they all went through the same gauntlet," he teased as they crossed the street and headed toward a massive, older two-story Arts and Craft style home that had at least twenty cars parked out front and across from it.
"I'm glad you find this so amusing."
"I'm laughing because I would have never pegged you as a Nervous Nelly. Don't you have to get up in court and speak in front of crowds every week?"
"Yes, but the lawyers, judges, witnesses and juries are focused on the defendant---not me."
He just grinned at her reply and passed the sidewalk leading to the front of the house, directing her instead to the long driveway, with Dillon also striding up ahead to the drive as Katie practically ran alongside her foster brother to keep up.
Amber slowed her steps, shocked at the vast amount of males of all ages and sizes, shouting and yelling while playing a game of basketball in the leaf-strewn driveway of the Craig homestead. "Why does this picture remind me of a prison yard?" she joked, covering her jittery nerves with humor.
He chuckled again and grabbed her hand in his. "Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to you if there's a prison uprising," he teased back, before he turned to start up the driveway again.
She stood rooted to the pavement, surprised as he took her hand in his large callused one. The last time he'd touched her was the night of Stacy and Marc's wedding, when he'd grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the dance floor after she'd turned down his first three attempts at asking her to dance. Finally, on his fourth try, she'd relented, more out of pity for the man than her need to dance. That night, with her hand in his, he'd slowly led her onto the dance floor before gently taking her into his arms. In that moment, she'd experienced a strange mixed bag of emotions---from excited, to safe and secure, to finally cherished. Her unexplained feelings stemmed from the way he'd been so patient with her all night, the way he tenderly held her against him, and how attentive he'd been. All of it seemed too good to be true. Too right---especially with someone so wrong for her.
Little did she know.
"Amber, you okay?"
She pulled herself together and swallowed hard as he turned and looked down at her with a questioning, lazy half grin on his handsome face. "Yes...fine," she whispered, as she tried hard to smile and act normal when she felt anything but.
All this time, the perfect guy was right under my nose. How could I not see it?
He was a great friend to others, hardworking, smart, kind, sexy, funny, had a nice family...so how could I not see it until now?
Because I was too busy denying, pushing away, and willing it not to happen, pretending from that first night at the wedding when I danced with him that it was nothing, all because I was too scared to admit Josh Craig could be the one---too scared because he didn't exactly fit my stupid perfect husband profile. I was so sure there was someone else out there who would fit it better.
"I know they look like a motley crew, but I swear they're harmless," he kidded again, pulling her behind him as they walked up the drive.
"Josh...wait."
He stopped at her soft request and looked back at her again. "Now what?" He grinned and tilted his head to one side in mock exasperation with her stalling.
"It's just that...well...thanks for asking me to come over," she offered breathlessly. Her heart raced uncontrolled as she suddenly saw him in a whole new light. From out of nowhere, she found herself overwhelmed with the need to hug the man, before falling into his arms crying. "It was really sweet of you."
Sweet?
Was that good?
It had to be. The woman sounds---oddly enough---happy to be meeting my family.
This made him more than confused, dumbstruck, and plain suspicious; there was no way in hell he would want to be in her position if the situation was reversed.
"Yeah, that's all right," he threw back, not sure why she was looking at him the way she was. "Sure everything's okay?"
She nodded and continued to look anything but sure. "Yes...perfect."
"I don't know. You've got a strange look on your face. Not thinking of callin' the cops, are you?"
She laughed and smiled up at him as he did the same back down at her. "With this crowd? Definitely a SWAT team for sure."
He couldn't hold back his laughter. The woman hadn't even met his family, and she already fit in. "Come on, Miss Smarty Pants."
He held her small hand in his as they walked up the drive, trying like hell to ignore all the weird looks his uncles, cousins, nephews, and brothers threw his way. He was pretty sure they were all thinking the same exact thing right now:
What the hell?
About time, loser.
What's a hot chick like her doing with him?
It won't last.
He couldn't blame them for thinking those things, since the same exact statements were running through his mind at full throttle. He was totally confused about where he stood with her, especially since they hadn't really dated, unless he counted the shopping thing and the Saturday night at the jail together, but here she was meeting his family. He also probably needed his head examined, given that he was bringing some woman home to his family whom he hadn't even asked out yet. Although he guessed a guy had to take what he could get. Even if that meant he had to bring her home to endure an inquisition by his entire family on Thanksgiving Day.
First up, he led her over and introduced her to his dad, John Craig, and then the rest of the male Craig mob. Once they'd met, he didn't know why she'd worried or why he'd been concerned about her presence here today. She easily took on the Craig men, countering with smart remarks of her own pertaining to the barbs the guys slung her way: regarding him and her together, her lack of taste in men, and how a woman like her could probably do better without even trying. She whipped the guy's collective butts when it came to trash talking, since none of the Craig men realized they were up against an attorney who could out-talk anyone on any given day of the week. It was all he could do not to bust a gut laughing or to take the woman and pull her into his arms.
Given he had an audience, he resisted the urge to do exactly that and instead introduced Katie and Dillon. Immediately his younger brother Jared tossed the teenager the ball and informed him what position he was going to play. After which Dillon gave Jared the typical 'Screw This' look, which was a standard threat of Dillon's---the kid made the same expression each day at the shop when he was given chores to do.
"Come on, ladies," Josh told both Katie and Amber. "Let's go inside, and I'll introduce you to the rest of the firing squad before the first game starts."
Amber reprimanded him. "Come on. I like your family, even if they remind me of a police lineup."
He whispered teasingly into her ear as they walked across the drive towards the house with Katie ahead of them. "Have I told you that your smart mouth turns me on?"
"Um...no," she returned, sounding almost speechless for a second. "Turned on, huh? So what do you want me to do about it, exactly?"
He looked down at her, caught the flirting tone in her voice and saw the glint of something naughty in her eyes. He swallowed hard, sure this wasn't the time nor the place to finally jumpstart something with her, even if he'd spent the last year waiting and hoping and praying that something would fire between them. Christ! It definitely wasn't the best time for the woman to start to look at him and say things like that---all throaty and breathless sounding. Two minutes before meeting his mother. I have absolutely no timing with women.
He did the only thing a guy could do in this situation---he groaned hard, sucked it up, and just plain ignored her last teasing remark. He also ignored her soft laughter as he held her hand and pulled her towards the back door that led into a mudroom-style back hall, and then into the large family kitchen of his parents' home.
The same home he'd spent his childhood in, his angst-filled teenage years, big family holidays, ordinary weekends, humid summer days wishing they had air conditioning, winter evenings in the living room watching hockey with his dad and brothers, enjoying great meals around the big kitchen table thanks to his mom's cooking. More great times than he could count, mixed with a bunch of just plain good ones, along with the inevitable sad days of deaths, funerals, and illnesses in a person's life---all of it spent under one roof.
Now he was finally bringing home a woman, and not just any female---Amber represented everything he could ever want in a woman. He'd known that from the first time he laid eyes on her, though he'd never believed he would find himself bringing her home to meet his family.
And he never thought the woman would pick this exact moment to finally see the light where he was concerned.
\*\*\*\*
Inside the big informal kitchen, all the Craig women were busy laying out a production line of pies, cookies, bars and desserts on a long wood table covered with a red-checked oil cloth. Warmth and the homey scents of Thanksgiving filtered through the air, along with the sounds of music mixed with children's laughter, and all of it intermingled with the roar of twenty females talking at once.
Amber looked on as Josh pulled her behind him into the 1940s-style kitchen, complete with black-and-white checked floor, old glass-fronted cabinets, green Formica countertops, and no less than three food-splattered high chairs that looked recently vacated. She wasn't sure in the least if she was up for crashing a private holiday, but there was no turning back at this point.
"OMG---it's the hot babe from Henry and Son's!"
She quickly glanced over to a dark-haired teenage girl who not only resembled Josh, but who had promptly announced their arrival at the top of her teen lungs, which in turn made everyone in the room stare in their direction. It was so quiet a pin could be heard dropping a mile away. But only for a second, before a chorus of 'Oh's!' were muttered collectively. Each female took in the fact that their brother, son, nephew, or uncle was now currently holding hands with a strange woman on Thanksgiving Day.
"Hello, everyone," she offered firmly and politely, trying to act as she did when addressing a new jury panel. "I'm Amber Bradley."
Josh turned and gave his younger sister a dirty look. "Nice going, Big Mouth," he grumped, then turned back to the group. "Yeah, well, like Janey already told you, this is my friend Amber and her friend Katie. They were at the Bergstroms and decided to come over and meet everyone."
"Hi, Katie," Sara, Josh's niece, spoke, jumping down from one of the kitchen stools next to the peninsula that separated the kitchen and dining room.
"Hi, Sara," Katie beamed and turned to look up at Amber. "We go to school together."
Sara immediately came over and took charge. "Want to go watch the dog show on TV?"
"Is that okay?" Katie questioned.
Amber smiled, glad that Katie had found someone to link up with. "Sure, go ahead."
The two girls giggled together and immediately started talking about school as they exited the room.
"And I'm Josh's mother, Gina," a petite, dark-haired lady who looked to be in her late fifties introduced. She welcomed Amber not only with a big smile on her face, but with an equally warm aproned embrace as well.
Amber hugged her back and was immediately put at ease. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Craig."
Josh's mother laughed contently and shook her head as she stepped back. "Just call me Gina. Now come with me and I'll introduce you to the rest of the crew. Do you like champagne, dear? We were just going to sit down and have some with dessert and play some cards. Over the years, it's become a tradition for us ladies after the dishes are done. Oh! We do have red and white wine too. Now just ignore the mess in the kitchen---we've almost got it under control."
She looked behind her to see Josh grinning wildly and giving her the 'I told you so' look. She grinned back secretively before turning to follow the immaculately styled Gina Craig. She noticed Josh didn't linger for a second longer than necessary before he headed back outside. It didn't bother her in the least, since over the next two hours, she found herself having more fun than she could remember having on a Thanksgiving. She chalked it up partly to the three glasses of champagne she'd had, but mostly to the fact that the Craig women were all so outgoing, talkative, fun, and generally fascinated not only with her profession as a defense attorney, but with the fact that she'd shown up with Josh this afternoon.
"So who's the hottie outside?"
She glanced next to her as Josh's youngest sister got her attention. "Who? Josh?" she joked. Janey rolled her black-rimmed eyes dramatically. "I'm talking about the tall guy with the short blond hair who's currently whipping the other guys' butts at basketball."
Amber glanced out through the dining room windows that overlooked the backyard and a portion of the drive and garage area. "Oh, that's Dillon Lange. He's Katie's foster brother, and he just started working with Josh at the garage after school."
"Is that so?" Janey said mysteriously, as she glanced over Amber's shoulder to get another look outside.
"He's a junior at Cedar High School," Amber mentioned, taking a long look at Josh's black-shrouded sister. The girl, with her glossy dark hair and stunning creamy complexion, would no doubt look beautiful outfitted in some brighter tones of clothing. "He started classes at Cedar High last spring."
"Yeah? I don't remember ever seeing him before."
"Dillon just got his hair cut short. It used to be over his eyes and down over his shoulders," Amber recounted, again assessing the girl. "Janey, have you ever thought of wearing something in the shade of raspberry? That color would be awesome with your hair and skin tone."
Janey eyed her warily. "Really? I don't know. That sounds kinda weird, but maybe I'll give it a try." The teen glanced outside again. "So, you said this Dillon guy just got his hair cut? Maybe that's why I don't recognize him. Every boring jerk in school has long hair," she stated bluntly.
"The need to look like everyone else is a trap a lot of teenagers fall into," Amber prompted.
Janey took in the candid observation and seemed to mull it over with self-scrutiny. "Yeah, I see your point."
Amber glanced outside again. "You know, I never noticed before, but Dillon does look nice now that he cut his hair." The disgruntled teenager was finally getting his act together thanks to Josh and the men at the shop. Helen Bergstrom had also commented earlier in the day that Dillon was doing better at school and was finally finding some purpose in life besides just getting into trouble. The boy was actually making his way in the world with a kick in the pants from J.T. Craig.
She took one more long look at Josh playing hoops before turning away to pick up on the long-running conversation regarding holiday shopping sales, recipes, politics, current fashion trends, gas prices, the economy, and just about everything else under the sun. The Craig women were diverse in their topics and opinions, to say the least, which in turn made for a lively table. Not to mention action packed, with children running around asking for seconds on dessert and babies being passed from one person to another, while the phone rang six times. Yet all of it somehow ran like clockwork.
She was also amazed at how Gina Craig enjoyed it all without one hair out of place. Although she guessed the woman had plenty of practice at big family holidays, with her and her husband John having eight children together. And all of their names began with J's, which made it easy to identify a Craig sibling, but hard to keep straight who exactly matched what name: Janey, Jennifer, Justine, Jessica, Jace, Jeff, Jared, and Josh.
As evening approached, the table of women started to break up, with some of the men trailing in one by one since their collective basketball tournament had ended. Amber thanked Gina Craig and said her goodbyes to Josh's aunts, sisters, and sister-in-laws. In turn, all of the women sounded and looked like they wanted to come out and ask if they would be seeing her at Christmas. She truly wished she could tell them something---they all looked so hopeful.
Although she had no idea what to say, since she had absolutely no clue what was going on in Josh's head today.
\*\*\*\*
He watched her as she floated from one group to another, laughing and talking without a care in the world, like she was made to be a Craig.
Only he had no directions on how to get the woman turned into one. Clearly there was a lot of untraveled ground that first had to be explored. First up would be getting the woman to see him for something other than a good-for-nothing garage mechanic. A second item on his list would be the dating thing. The third---but most important---hurdle to overcome would be having sex together. The last one seemed like an impossible feat some days, not to mention a frustrating one.
She finally noticed him in the back hall/ mud room and came over with a big smile on her beautiful face, her green eyes glittering with happiness. "How did the game go?"
"Great---kicked my brother Jace's team to the curb with the secret weapon, Dillon."
"I noticed," she admitted, grinning up at him. "Guess I should get the kids and head back to the Bergstroms."
"Already?" he asked, moving over to the wall in order to hang up his coat on the row of pegs stuffed with outerwear.
She beamed happily. "I think I'd better, since I've been here two hours already and had three glasses of champagne, two pieces of pie, three cookies, and played five rounds of cards. Oh yeah, I changed a diaper too."
He laughed out loud, pulled her over a few feet out of view of the kitchen, and moved her up against him for a well-deserved hug. "A lesser woman wouldn't have survived," he joked, wrapping his arms around her as she easily melted against his chest.
"I totally agree," she said joyously. "Hey, nice sweater, did you buy this yourself?"
He held his breath as she ran her hands over his newly purchased half-zip fleece pullover. "Yeah, I picked this out after you left the men's department that day. But don't tell anyone. I don't want info like that gettin' out." He grinned down at her as she continued to lean into him, apparently in no hurry to move, as her breasts were pushed up against his chest and her hips were currently locked with his, their legs bumping against one another. She was soft, warm, curved just right, and wasn't complaining about the fact that he was holding her.
"You know, some guys actually like to go shopping with their wives or girlfriends."
"On what planet?" he growled, giving her a raised eyebrow along with his disgruntled answer, which made her giggle and snuggle closer against him. It should have made his day, month, and year, if not for the picture of what was taking place outside the back hall window. "Aw man, I don't like the looks of this."
She turned to glance behind her to the window. "You don't like the looks of what?"
"Dillon and Janey together."
"You can't be serious? You don't want Dillon around Janey?"
He shook his head. "Hell no, I'm not complaining about the kid. It's Janey. I don't want her corrupting Dillon. The guys at the garage and I finally got the kid on the straight and narrow."
She giggled again and turned away from the window and the picture of Janey flirting outrageously with a surprisingly shy Dillon Lange. "I think they look good together."
"Yeah?" he debated, still grimacing as he continued to watch his demented and mean-spirited younger sister twist Dillon around her finger. "I don't know. What can he see in her? She's moody, foul tempered, and has a potty mouth."
She raised a delicately raised eyebrow in judgment.
He admitted defeat. "Yeah, I see your point. They're like a match made in heaven."
She laughed at his comment and looked up past his shoulder with an expression of pure horror on her face. "What in the world is that?"
He groaned, automatically knowing what the woman was looking at. Reluctantly he turned and glanced up to see the family's faded, seam-ripped, homemade fabric toy turkey, strategically hanging from the light fixture above them. Complete with a pathetic faded red ribbon tied around its scrawny neck and a piece of pine stuck into it. "Uh, you khow what mistletoe is, don't ya?"
"Yes, of course."
"Well, that's the Craigs' idea of Thanksgiving mistletoe. It all started with old Great-Grandpa Craig. He couldn't wait for Christmas to kiss Great-Grandma Craig when they were young and courting. So one year he grabbed this hand-sewn kid's toy and added some pine to it and hung it up as a joke. It sorta stuck as a tradition, and now it's been passed down to my dad."
"Oh, that's really weird." She laughed, half fascinated and half appalled.
"You think that's weird? You should hear the rest," he baited.
"Like?"
"Like whoever kisses below it usually ends up pregnant together."
"You're kidding?"
"Hell no. How do you think there's so many Craigs running loose around here today?"
"From that ugly hand-sewn turkey? You've got to be joking."
"No joke, I swear. You kiss below it, and presto, you're pregnant." He grinned cunningly down at her. "So, are you up for tempting fate?'
She eyed him closely. "All right, why not," she whispered, calling his bluff.
He stopped grinning, dumbstruck. The woman actually agreed? He'd been sure she was about to bolt for good, but in fact she looked good and hunkered down and willing. "Really?" he questioned cautiously. She had to be just yanking his chain for the hell of it.
She only nodded, as the atmosphere between them suddenly became thickly serious. He looked down into her sexy, killer green eyes and, without giving her any time to back out, leaned down and covered her mouth with his. Immediately, a jolt passed through him like a thousand watts of energy.
As he kissed her, he realized all the days thinking about, nights wishing for, times spent fantasizing about this moment didn't even come close to how it felt to finally kiss her for real.
To his amazement, he was also able to push aside the fact they were making out in the back hall of his parents' home on Thanksgiving, with the house full of in-laws, pesky cousins, and annoying siblings. Along with music blaring, and one baby crying, as he cut loose and finally showed her exactly what she had been missing for the past year.
Since he was finally able to pull out all the stops, he ran his hands up under her sweater to span his hands around her soft, velvety waist, moving her closer to him, while he licked, kissed, nipped, and generally did every move he knew outside of bed. By now she had to be either just as turned on as he was---or ready to call the cops on him for real.
The way she leaned into him and gave back as good as she got, he guessed he was finally on the right track with the woman for once.
\*\*\*\*
"Oh, gross! That's so disgusting, J.T.," Janey announced with a less-than-subtle voice.
"Jeez, get a room, man," Dillon instructed, equally put off at what he was witnessing.
"Come on, Dillon, I'll introduce you to my mom before I throw up," Janey stated, sounding totally disgusted.
Both teens continued into the busy kitchen as Amber started to pull back from Josh's kiss, but, undeterred by the two teenagers currently censoring them, the man only continued on, with kisses that were deep, heartfelt, and a little wild besides. He only stopped to run his mouth along her jawbone and down to her neck, where he kissed, licked, and nipped at her skin, which in turn made her melt against him, shiver heatedly, and wonder why she had put him off for the last year.
"God, you taste so good," he groaned intimately into her ear, his breath fast and hot on her sensitive skin, as he kissed the rim before he bit gently at her lobe.
She stopped breathing and moaned; he knew just where to touch her, how softly to kiss her skin, and exactly the right way to heat her up with his whispered words. She'd never guessed he would be so awesomely hot in the make-out department. This is just in his parents' mud room. I can only imagine what he's like in private.
She moaned again, partially from that thought, and partially from the way he currently rubbed his rough, unshaven face against her neck as he trailed a line of kisses across her collarbone, whispering naughty things along the way about what he would do if they were alone. Finally he came full circle to cover her mouth again, repeating the sexy, hot, deep kiss he had given her just before, which made her body wilt with heat and crave to be closer to his---without any clothes on.
"Jeez, J.T., you could have warned us to shield our eyes."
"I think what you're doing is illegal in Michigan."
"Before you go and get the woman pregnant, at least take her out on a date."
She started to giggle from the collective comments made by Josh's three tall, muscled, and less-than-suave brothers, as they trailed through the back mud room on their way into the chatter-filled kitchen.
He finally pulled back to smirk at her shamelessly, before addressing his brothers as they quickly disappeared into the kitchen. "Hey, I'm just gettin' warmed up." He turned back and eyed her closely, making her melt all over again, just like she'd been doing for the past month whenever he was around.
"Is that a threat or a promise?" she teased in an airy, breathless voice, still winded and over-stimulated from their awesomely hot make-out session.
"Depends," he countered, evidently appreciating the way she whispered all sexy-like to him.
"On what?" she taunted and ran her hands over his broad chest, feeling the rock-hard muscles underneath his clothes. She wished she could run her hands over his bare chest, but this wasn't the time nor the place to start anything more than what they'd just done with one another.
"On whether you want to continue this."
She pulled back slightly and guessed it was all or nothing at this point. She looked at him and leaned up to plant a soft kiss on his hard mouth, nipping at his lower lip. Finally, she took her tongue and ran it along the area she'd just nibbled on, all with a low-throated, teasing moan added in. "What do you think?"
He groaned hard and sexily narrowed his eyes. "I think we should go back to my...aw, hell! Crap!" He glanced at his watch, and swore again under his breath. "You're not going to believe this, but I'm an hour late to meet Marc."
"What?" She was stunned. The man can't be serious.
"Sorry, baby," he ground out huskily with a remorseful expression. "Trust me! You have no idea how sorry I am. Hell, I forgot I was supposed to meet Marc at his place an hour ago to leave on our hunting trip up north. We always leave the evening of Thanksgiving."
"Oh, well...when are you coming back?"
"Sunday night."
"Oh."
"What?"
"I'm leaving Sunday afternoon to fly to Chicago to guest lecture at my law school."
"When are ya gonna be back?"
"I'll be back a week from this Saturday."
"We have to wait until next Saturday?" He groaned with the torture.
She heard the defeated-pleading sound in his voice. "If it's any solace, I feel the same way," she whispered, smiling weakly.
He groaned again and shot her a narrow, mean-eyed glare. "You're not helping the situation," he grumped.
She laughed with resignation and pulled out of his embrace as he reluctantly let her go. "I'd better go find Dillon and Katie and head back to the Bergstroms," she relented, though she wanted to go right back into his strong arms again.
"Already done," Dillon announced. He strode through the back hall to the door as if his life depended on it, throwing Josh an angst-filled glance. "I'm outta here, man."
"I'm ready too." Katie smiled and followed Dillon into the back hall. "But why is Dillon in such a hurry?"
Josh shrugged. "I think he was expecting a lecture from me about my sister Janey," he mumbled as the screen door banged shut behind the tall, lanky teen. "But he's sadly mistaken if he's thinking that. Actually, I need to give the kid a heads-up and all-points bulletin about my sister."
"But why?" Katie persisted, wide eyed and wanting to know everything.
"Uh, did you have fun watching the dog show and playing Monopoly with Sara and her sisters and cousins?" Amber asked. She tried not to laugh at the distraught sound in Josh's voice as she distracted the eleven-year-old with questions. Katie happily filled them in on her afternoon while Amber pulled on her jacket and tried to ignore the fact that it would be over a week before she saw Josh again. Never in her wildest dreams would she have guessed she'd find herself misty eyed over leaving him, when for the past year she had done nothing but find ways to avoid the man.
He reached for his black suede jacket. "I'll walk you two back."
"No, don't bother," she rescinded. "You're already late for your hunting trip, and knowing Marc, he's just about going crazy since his schedule is off."
"He can wait."
"It's only three blocks," she appealed, reading his mind and knowing how protective and old-fashioned he was. Just a few of the things she found so attractive about him. "I can practically see the Bergstroms' house from your parents' backyard."
"I always make sure my date gets home safely," he insisted in a no-nonsense tone.
"Oh? This was a date? I thought it was an initiation."
He smiled guiltily. "Yeah, I guess this wasn't one of the better dates I've ever taken a woman on."
It was her turn to smile now as they headed out the door with Katie ahead of them. "I have to say, besides this being the most spontaneous and last-minute date I've ever had, it was also the most fun one I've ever been on, if that's worth anything."
He took her by the arm and pulled her close as they started down the drive. "That's worth a lot," he growled in her ear. "But it still doesn't make up for not seeing you for the next nine days."
She didn't know how to respond, since he sounded so dead serious. She herself was getting emotional over the fact they'd be apart for so long, just when they'd finally found their way to each other.
They walked without speaking, with Katie chattering contentedly about school and various other subjects as they made their way around the block and back over to the Bergstroms' house. Most homes in the old-fashioned neighborhood were now lit up, warm and glowing, while the day faded into evening; numerous driveways were still parked full with relatives and guests visiting for the holiday.
"Guess I'll see you when I get back from Chicago?" she asked hopefully as they strolled along the leaf-scattered sidewalk towards the front door. She didn't know why, but she suddenly sensed something was different between them.
"Yep."
"Next weekend, maybe?"
"Guess so," he replied, with a careless shrug thrown in.
She eyed him and wondered why he was suddenly acting so cold and distant. As they'd walked the past three blocks, he'd suddenly closed up on her for some reason, which wasn't like him at all. The Josh she knew was always so warm and open---or at least he had been, right up until two minutes ago. "Have a good trip with Marc then."
"Yep, thanks," he gritted out. "Katie, good luck at the Science Fair next week, and I'll see ya soon, Amber." He finally nodded to her and gave her one last narrowed intense look, before he turned and abruptly walked away.
She watched him stride down the sidewalk for a few seconds until Katie interrupted her conflicted thoughts and emotions. "Is Josh your boyfriend?" the preteen asked innocently. She glanced down at the girl, not sure how to respond.
She finally swallowed hard and looked back at the tall, dark, departing figure of Josh Craig.
"Guess not," she answered quietly. For some reason she suddenly felt the need to cry.
December snowflakes drifted and swirled around in the frosty air like puffs of white cotton, finally coming to rest on parked cars, pedestrians' hats and coats, and just about everything in sight.
Amber sighed at the winter wonderland outside her office window and found herself lost once again in her thoughts. Thoughts that were depressing, confusing, and woe-as-me filled. For the past two weeks her mind had been stuck in this constant mode.
"I come bearing Chinese food and chocolate."
The tempting and decadent proclamation caught her off guard. She swung around in her desk chair, eyeing Stacy Haines with caution. "And what's the catch?" she inquired. Her best friend had that certain look in her eye. The same one she always got when she wanted to borrow something, beg for a favor, or just get the details on some private juicy info.
Stacy gave her a 'personally offended' glare as she plunked down a large brown bag on her glass desk and proceeded to pull out white cardboard boxes of steaming Chinese food. "What? Can't a girl bring her best friend lunch just to be nice?"
"No," Amber grumped, reaching for one of the food containers to peer inside. "Actually, the Chinese food was believable, but the chocolate French silk pie was a dead giveaway, not to mention overkill. So what's up?"
Stacy nervously released a feminine giggle and pulled up a chair. "Nothing. Can't we just have lunch together without you being suspicious about my motives? I think you've been hanging around devious criminal types too long."
"You said it," Brook added, coming into the office and pulling up the other chair to the desk.
Stacy smirked at Brook, then eyed Amber none too innocently. "Although now that you mention it, since Brook and I just happen to be here for lunch today, this would be a good time for you to finally spill."
Amber didn't like the looks of things. "Spill what, exactly?"
Brook raised a brow and gave her the usual 'duh' look. "Oh, I don't know, boss? Maybe why you're staring out the window for hours, why you're forgetting appointments, and generally seem like a moody teenager all of a sudden."
"I have to agree with Brook," Stacy interjected, taking a paper plate and piling it with steaming lomein noodles as she did. "Ever since Thanksgiving you've been zoned out."
"What is this? An intervention?" Amber questioned. Annoyance rang loud and clear in her voice as she took a plate and added some chop suey to it, along with an eggroll.
Stacy glanced at Brook; then both women turned to look at her and answered in unison. "Yes!!"
She groaned and rolled her eyes. The last thing she needed right now was not one but two meddling, well-meaning friends. "Thanks for the concern and the free lunch, but there isn't anything wrong. I've just been busy catching up with cases and paperwork after being in Chicago for the week after Thanksgiving guest lecturing at my law school."
"Methinks the woman doth protest too much," Stacy joked and reached for a packet of sweet and sour sauce.
"Methinks the woman should open up and talk to us," Brook giggled, helping herself to the egg foo young.
"Methinks you two are just too nosy and should butt out of my love life," Amber concluded, stuffing her mouth with a forkful of food and chewing angrily.
"Ha! I knew it! Something did happen over Thanksgiving. Didn't it? Come on, just admit it already," Stacy cried excitedly and looked way too smug in the process.
Brook glanced over to Stacy with a big, satisfied smile. "We were right all along."
Amber cringed inwardly. How could some flighty assistant and a meddlesome interior designer cross-examine her and get her to spill so easily? Me and my big mouth. She just had to let it slip that it was her love life that was bothering her. Now she would never get rid of them until she relented and confessed exactly what the problem was. She fussed with the packets of sweet and sour sauce, organizing them into a neat pile, reluctantly guessing it was time to finally spill. Ultimately, she shrugged with defeat. "All right, Perry Mason and Matlock, you win. I'm having some man problems. There! Are you two happy?"
"Ecstatic," Stacy announced, grinning from ear to ear.
"Awesome. I can't believe we got you to admit that," Brook beamed with self-satisfaction.
"Don't look so smug, you two," Amber advised. "You caught me off guard at a weak moment. Trust me, it won't happen again."
"Come on. Details, sister," Stacy ordered.
"You know you want to," Brook prompted.
Amber eyed both women, each dressed to kill, business minded, and professionals at the top of their game, though they now looked just like two deviant teenage girls waiting to hear about her hot date with the high-school quarterback. She fiddled with her unused chopsticks and relented. "There's not much to tell---"
"Oh, come on, Amber. I already know it has something to do with Josh and you going over to his parents' big holiday blowout," Stacy interrupted, way too impatient for her own good.
"Yeah, cut to the chase already. Did you sleep with the guy or what?" Brook added in.
Amber was shocked at what they knew already. "I don't believe this. How did you two know I was at Josh's parents'?"
Stacy and Brook both released big from-the-gut-laughs at her simply stated question; Stacy was the first to recover. "Well, obviously I didn't hear it from Marc, since he and Josh would die before discussing their love lives together," she admitted. "Truthfully, I just happened to be at SuperMart grocery shopping a few days after Thanksgiving, and Iris informed me. Apparently she bowls with Gina Craig."
Brook nodded enthusiastically. "Oh yeah, I heard from Wendy Henderson that you'd been at the Craigs' with Josh, apparently making out in their back hall. She works at Henry and Son's in the jewelry department, and I was in there shopping the day after Thanksgiving. Her sister is married to Jeff, Josh's brother. Gosh, Amber, everyone in town knew about it the next day." She sounded somewhat miffed that her boss was so slow to catch on.
"You've got to be kidding me. Everyone in town knew about it?" Amber said, slightly aghast.
Brook's crystal blue eyes widened with amazement. "Jeez, Amber. This is Cedar Point. Not Detroit."
"You gotta love living in a small town," Stacy teased.
Amber made a disgruntled face. "You two could have warned me what I was getting into when I hooked up with a Craig," she complained, as she suddenly remembered Josh telling her about the twenty-four seven security team that went along with being a member of his family.
"So tell us, Miss Bradley, how exactly did you get from viewing J.T. Craig as, and I quote, 'some grubby garage mechanic' to making out with him under the Mistletoe Turkey?" Stacy questioned, looking very pleased with her courtroom persona.
Amber laughed without amusement. "Ha ha. Very cute. When I figure that out, I'll let you know. In the meantime, how in the world do you know about that old toy fabric turkey? No, wait. You learned about that at the SuperMart too?"
"Who in Cedar Point doesn't know about the turkey?" Stacy smirked.
"Crumps, Amber! Everyone in town knows about the Craigs' fertility mistletoe turkey," Brook added, looking shocked that Amber didn't know that piece of vital small-town information.
"All right, you know all the details. So, why didn't you two bring up the famous Thanksgiving Tryst between me and Josh before now?"
Stacy shrugged. "You were out of town for the first week afterwards, and I've been busy working until today."
"I wanted to, but I was too scared," Brook answered candidly. "So I decided to just tiptoe around you until I had Stacy as backup."
"I don't believe this," Amber groaned. It all made sense. All the strange looks she'd received in the grocery store, gas station, and bookstore over the past week. Apparently the whole town had firsthand knowledge of her love life.
She was just thankful it hadn't made the front page of the Cedar Point Gazette.
"So did the turkey work? Is the man gonna have to marry you? Shotgun wedding or sit-down black tie event?" Stacy teased. She laughed hysterically along with Brook as they tossed their empty paper plates into the takeout bag before they opened the box containing the rich, decadent chocolate silk pie.
Amber added her plate to the bag before grabbing a clean fork Stacy offered. "No chance of that happening. I haven't heard from the man since he left me standing in front of the Bergstroms' house on Thanksgiving night."
"Oh, that doesn't sound good."
"No, it doesn't."
"Is that all you two have to say? That's all the help I get? Maybe I need to get the ladies from the SuperMart over here," Amber jested. She took a forkful of the dessert as all three of them dug into the pie sans proper plates.
"You didn't bore him with legal talk, did you?" Stacy questioned.
"Was he drunk? Did he remember you were there?" Brook wondered.
She sighed heavily and tilted her head to one side in exasperation. "No and no. And yes to the last one."
"Mmm, interesting," Stacy pondered. "Maybe the guy is just busy with work?"
"Oh, Amber, stop being such a worrywart," Brook scolded in her soft, girly voice. "You have to admit you were sort of unnecessarily cold and distant to him for the past year. I'm sure it's just gonna take him a little while to warm up to you."
"I was unnecessarily cold and distant?" Amber said weakly. "Thanks, Brook. I feel better already."
"Don't read too much into him not contacting you, Amber," Stacy reassured her, looking confident, as she took another forkful of dessert. "Take it from me. Guys only have a couple of emotions: hungry, pissed-off, dead tired, and horny. Obviously he's been sidetracked with work and is just tired and distracted. I know he missed the hockey game the other night. My guess is the guy has a lot going on in his life right now. And I agree with Brook. He's probably just a little cautious and shell-shocked after making out with you at his parents'. He doesn't know what hit him. You probably just threw him off his game. Give him time to let it all soak in. He'll come around when he's good and ready."
Amber reached for a napkin and wiped her mouth before replying. "I don't know," she admitted. In her mind she replayed once again what they'd said to one another, how it felt to be with him that day, how incredible it was between them. Right up until he dropped her off at the Bergstroms'. "I guess you could be right."
For the rest of the afternoon, as she pored over notes and police reports on a client, Stacy and Brook's words of wisdom replayed over and over in her mind. Along with the sound of Josh whispering to her during their fully-clothed mini-sex romp in his parents' back hall/ mud room.
Baby, how easy does this sweater come off?
God, you taste so sweet.
Do you like this?
Was the guy serious? She liked everything he did; it shocked her good to find out how awesomely hot the man was when it came to showing a woman a good time.
The intimate smile faded from her mouth as she closed a case file, sighed, and wondered what she should do. Obsessively she rearranged a vase of cream-colored roses on her desk and straightened the pencils in their crystal container, pondering her best two choices.
"Damn." To stop compulsively fussing, she shook out her hands and sat on them as she contemplated both ideas: wait it out and let him come to her, or go see him and find out what was going on. Neither option sounded good at the moment. The first seemed ambivalent and the second way too needy.
Oh, who cares! I love the man. What does it matter if I look desperate and...wait a minute. I love the man? Of course I do. Why else would I miss him so much?
I'm in love with J.T. Craig?
She sat stunned for a complete minute, trying hard not to panic.
She forced herself to take a deep breath and release it.
But it was hard when she felt like she was going to pass out.
"OMG," she finally muttered to herself, recalling Janey Craig's slang text reference.
Somewhat numb and bewildered, she got up from the desk chair and shakily walked to her office window, where she nervously smoothed down her burgundy silk blouse and matching skirt. Outside, the darkened street was now lit by the old-fashioned lampposts, the day having already passed into evening without her even noticing it.
"Katie was right," she admitted in a whisper as she leaned against the window and watched the quiet snow fall on the side street. "She warned me that a person could find the right guy when they least expected it."
Somewhere in the past month, she'd fallen in love with J.T. Craig.
She didn't know if she wanted to laugh or cry. Besides that, she was experiencing the same elated feeling she had a few weeks ago at the end of the Craigs' driveway, when he took her hand in his. That day it felt right, so natural, like it was meant to be this way with him.
Without a doubt, she knew she wanted Josh in her life. She had from the beginning.
Although at this point, she wasn't sure if he even wanted a night with her.
"I know, I know. You've been waiting forever for me."
She jumped and turned to see Matt Toffleson striding through her office door, shaking snow from his blond head and shrugging out of his overcoat at the same time.
"Ah...right," she bluffed. She'd totally forgotten she'd scheduled a meeting with Matt after work hours. The two consulted on cases on a regular basis without any conflict of interest, since she was in defense and Matt specialized in family law. They'd established a mutual give and take that worked well for the both of them.
"What? Did I get you at a bad time?" Matt inquired, tossing his coat over the back of one of her client desk chairs as he smiled broadly.
"No, not at all. Have a seat and we'll get started on those papers you gave me to look over," she stated awkwardly, then walked back to her desk and produced said document. Simultaneously, she tried to focus on the task at hand and off the fact she now found herself hopelessly in love with Josh Craig. "By the way, how are Susan and the baby doing?"
Matt smiled again and ignored her suggestion for a chair; instead he seated himself on the edge of her desk next to her. He leaned down to scribble a few notes on the papers in front of them. "Great. Although I don't know which way is up anymore, since I only manage to get about two hours of sleep a night. I don't know how Susan does it. All the changing, feeding, and then there's the crying."
"You did know babies are supposed to be fed around the clock, changed continuously, and they cry a lot, didn't you? Or did you misplace that brief somewhere on your desk?" she mocked.
"Very smooth, Miss Bradley," Matt countered. "If I had more time or brain cells left, I'd try and outwit you on that comment."
"Yeah? You and what other team of lawyers?" She laughed along with him, since they both knew he was totally unable to think on his feet. That being the sole reason he practiced family law.
Matt conceded with a defeated tone to his voice. "All right, I admit, ever since law school, you can still run circles around me. So why do I even try anymore?"
"I guess you just can't resist getting your butt kicked by a woman."
"I think it's just a bad habit you and I formed years ago."
"Okay, let's go with that explanation if it makes you feel better," she countered with a grin. "Now let's get on with this document and get you out of here and home on time."
\*\*\*\*
Josh parked his new King Ranch edition Ford F-250 out front of the still lit-up law office of Amber Bradley, Attorney at Law. He finally felt like a real human being again. And he was just grateful to be back with the living after spending the past week with his head literally hanging over his bathroom toilet, all courtesy of his nephew Chase. The kid just happened to come home sick from school last Friday, with no one informing Josh of this little piece of information until after he'd spent twenty minutes wrestling with him last Friday night at his sister's house. He naively thought he'd kill time over at Jessica and Scott's place with the kids while getting a home-cooked meal. He'd gotten his meal all right. Right along with the flu too.
He'd been down for the count ever since, puking his guts out over the entire weekend and just about passed out from a high fever. Come Monday, he somehow managed to drag his sorry butt into work, only to spend most of the morning sick again. After which Coop finally ordered him home and took over his workload, along with supervising the remodeling. The man had definitely come through for him, right along with the rest of the guys, who'd also picked up his scheduled appointments and the other million things he took care of around the shop on a daily basis. The guys showed him just how tight they were with one another, which kinda gave him a lump in the back of his throat when he thought about it.
Josh shook off the past week, climbed out of his truck and walked up to Amber's office door. He guessed he'd given the woman more than enough time and space. At Thanksgiving he'd decided, while walking her back over to the Bergstroms', to lay low and not crowd her. The last thing he wanted to do was go full force and scare the woman away. Instead, he decided to keep things in first gear and start out their relationship slow and easy after she got back from Chicago. And he'd stuck to his decision, no matter how hard that had been to do at the time or how much it had sucked to just walk away from her that night.
Inside, the outer office was dark, her assistant Brook obviously gone for the night. He felt the sweat on the back of his neck and willed himself to hang tight and breathe normal. But it was hard when all he could think about was how good it would be to see her again, to feel her up against him, and to kiss her without any interruptions from family members.
Bypassing her assistant's desk, he walked through to her fancy-looking office, not exactly warming to the way some big, blond, three-piece-suited guy leaned over Amber's shoulder, nor to the way she giggled at something he'd apparently said to her. An acceleration of pure hate raced through him. The high velocity of loathing shocked him and rocked him back a few feet. He'd never experienced jealousy like this before, but tonight, he definitely wanted to kick some butt. He gritted his back teeth together, and for the first time in his life, he actually felt like killing someone---or at least picking up the jerk and tossing him out the door into a snow bank, for starters.
"Oh...Josh," she announced, when she finally noticed him.
"Hey, Amber," he gritted in a low tone, unable to get much more out, since he didn't like the looks of things. Or the way he suddenly felt.
"I wasn't expecting you," she said with a strange expression.
"I thought I'd stop in for a minute. I saw your light was on," he grumbled, more than sure this wasn't the best idea he'd ever had. Meanwhile, he continued to eye the jerk, who had yet to budge an inch from his way-too-close position over her shoulder. Like the guy couldn't talk to her from across the desk.
"I'm just finishing up here, but---" she started.
"It's no big deal," he cut her off with a growl. "I'll catch ya later."
He backed out of the office door, turned on his heel, and pounded back through the main office and out the door to the snow-covered sidewalk, while his heart felt like it was ready to burst from his chest. Okay. So that was just about the worst moment of my life.
Pissed, he briskly strode around her office building to the back parking lot, right over to her car. He pulled out one of the windshield wipers, tucked the red rose he'd been concealing behind his back beneath the wiper, then let it snap back down. There. Done! I'm so done with women, romance, and just plain trying to figure them out!
He swore under his breath as he stormed his way back to his newly purchased truck, climbed in, and started the engine. He drove without thinking for ten minutes before automatically finding himself at Hugo's. He parked out front and laughed miserably; he knew for a fact his life was coming full circle tonight.
He was right back where he'd started, and once again, he'd ended up at Hugo's after being shot down like usual. The only difference was that tonight, as he found himself back here, he understood why it always hurt so much.
He was in love with Amber Bradley.
No kiddin', asshole. You've been in love with her for the past year.
Still, it wasn't until tonight, when he'd laid eyes on her again after two weeks of thinking about her nonstop, that he'd finally realized just why he could never stop trying with the woman---never stop working to get her to notice him, to see him as something other than just some blue-collar garage mechanic with a beat-up old truck. It was because he'd known deep down inside, from the first night he'd met her, that she was the one for him.
At Marc and Stacy's rehearsal dinner, he'd come in late and glanced across the bar and seen her standing there, looking perfect and like more than he could handle. He knew then he didn't have a chance in hell with her. But that didn't matter. He still acted like some hormonal jerk that night, trying everything to get her to notice him, or at least acknowledge his existence. The next night at the wedding reception, when she finally agreed to dance with him, he knew for a fact she was just being polite. Even so, he didn't give a damn, since all he could think about was getting her close to him. Somehow, he hoped that if he did so, the woman would suddenly see the light.
Boy, was he sadly mistaken.
And now it wasn't any different.
He shook his head and thought back to Thanksgiving and how he'd kissed her like there was no tomorrow, and then tried like hell not to smother her with his greedy need to be with her. He'd still gone on his hunting trip, even though all he'd really wanted to do was stay and spend the weekend with her. Instead, he'd talked himself out of staying, since he hadn't wanted to push her too fast too soon. But look where that Dr. Phil plan had gotten him.
He was right back at Hugo's, alone, with nothing better to do tonight but get drunk off his butt.
While Amber was back at her office with some asshole who looked just like the kind of guy she always went for.
More than pissed now, he stormed into Hugo's and plunked himself on the first barstool he came to, not bothering to look for anyone he knew. Instead, he just ordered himself a double shot of tequila from Joe, the regular weeknight bartender, who looked at him like he was some kind of tourist from out of town.
"Hey, bro," Cooper called from down the bar. "Do you want some company down there, or do you need some alone time tonight?"
He turned toward the end of the bar, where he and Coop and the rest of the guys from the shop usually hung out. "Hell no! Just thought I'd mix things up tonight."
Coop laughed and came down the bar to slide onto the stool next to him. "Yep. Sitting on the other end of the bar tonight is just rocking my world, buddy. Good idea."
"Yeah, you're just a riot," Josh snarled, taking his double shot of tequila and tossing it back minus the salt or lime.
"Whoa, J.T.! Take it easy, man," Coop warned.
Josh slammed the shot glass down. "Don't worry. I didn't even feel that one," he said, his voice slightly husky sounding, as the liquid burned down his throat. He ordered and downed yet another double, then released a slight after-cough.
Coop eyed him closely. "Yeah? Well, you're gonna feel that second round tomorrow," the ex-hockey pro forecasted as he raised a brow.
"Joe, one more, and give me a beer chaser too."
"Come on, man. You're just gettin' over the flu. Did you even have anything to eat today?"
"What are you, my mother?" Josh grumped, taking his third double shot of tequila and tossing it back without blinking this time.
"Jeez, J.T.! You're definitely gonna regret that one tomorrow. Trust me on that, man," Coop predicted. "So what's up with the shots and attitude?"
"Just another night in the life of J.T. Craig," he joked darkly, suddenly feeling the three doubles he had just downed. "Yep. You warned me, Coop. But I didn't listen."
"About what?"
"About life. Women in general."
"Man! You didn't have anything to eat today, did ya?" Coop concluded. He shook his head in disgust over the fact that his boss and friend was already wasted in less than five minutes. "Give me your truck keys, buddy."
Josh turned and looked at Coop with a belligerent stare. "Who the hell are you, and what did you do with Coop Gerhardt? And why the hell are you dressed like that? Did you actually shave, man?"
Coop sighed tiredly, like he knew this was payback for all the times he'd gotten drunk off his ass. "I sorta got a date in a few minutes, and hell yeah, I shaved! What's it to ya?"
"A date? No shit? Well, good luck with that plan," Josh grumped. By now he felt every ounce of the tequila he'd just downed and wished he'd reconsidered that last double.
Coop flung down a twenty onto the bar. "Joe, get J.T. some coffee and a couple of burgers on me." He stuffed his wallet into his back pocket and eyed Josh with caution. "Hey man, I gotta go. Give me your keys and promise me you'll walk home tonight."
Josh glared at his friend; the guy clearly wouldn't back down. "All right already." Reluctantly he fished his shiny new truck keys out of the front pocket of his jeans, extracting his apartment key from them first. "Here. Fill it up, will ya?"
"Yeah, you're hilarious," Coop grumbled as he took the keys. "See ya tomorrow at work."
"Yeah, see ya, Coop," he mumbled. He took a long swig of his beer as Coop gave him a dirty look and walked out.
With his mood not improved, he finished his beer and slammed the glass down on the bar. Yep. Peaceful. Quiet.
And no classy, wine-drinking high-heeled women!
Thank god for Hugo's.
Hardcore rock music poured out from a sound system as the smell of tap beer permeated the air, along with the aroma of pizza and grilled burgers. Amber peered through the dimly lit bar where a few men lingered over the pool table, while two couples played a game of darts in the corner. She quickly scanned the rest of Hugo's, finally connecting with the image she was looking for: a certain J.T. Craig, who now looked more than slightly drunk.
Hesitantly she made her way along the bar, ignoring the leering glances from the black-leather-wearing biker guys and the loud, uncouth comment from the scary-looking man beside them. She was sure she'd seen this particular individual in court in the past month, outfitted in an orange jumpsuit. Undeterred, she made a beeline to Josh, stopped behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. Slowly he maneuvered around on his barstool, then shot straight up the minute he saw it was her.
She had to work to hide a smile at how cute he looked slightly drunk, confused, and caught off guard. "Hi," she said simply, not knowing what to say or do beyond that.
"Hey, Amber," he mumbled, still looking and sounding dazed, though he was apparently trying to sober up. "What are you doin' here?"
"I wanted to thank you for the rose." She smiled and slid onto the vacant stool next to him. "It was very sweet."
"Yeah, that's me---sweet," he grunted darkly, turning away from her to face the bar.
She watched as he reached for his coffee cup. "Umm, I was wondering what you wanted tonight when you stopped by before. You left so suddenly, I didn't get to even tell you that Matt and I were almost finished working and done for the night."
He took a long swig of his coffee and slowly put down his cup before turning to gave her a mean-eyed, blurry glare. "Matt? The big preppy guy?"
"Yes, Matt Toffleson. We went to law school together. He lives in town now with his wife Susan. They just had a baby. And if you wouldn't have jumped to conclusions and left to come here and get drunk, you could have stayed and met him." So there, Josh Craig.
"Ohh..." he concluded slowly, looking decidedly sheepish. "Yeah, all right, then. So basically I was acting like a jealous jerk before?"
"I guess you could say that." She tried not to smile at him but found it impossible, since he looked so ashamed of himself. "But you did it in an adorable way. The rose was a nice touch too."
Clearly embarrassed, he groaned in mock pain and turned away from her to face the bar. "So now what?"
She shrugged and leaned in closer to him. "What if I drive you home? I'm thinking maybe you shouldn't be left to your own devices tonight?"
He took his coffee and drained it before turning to answer her. "A ride home? Why the hell not?" he mumbled. He still sounded slightly inebriated, and less than totally convinced that her offer was genuine.
"Really, Josh, I'll drive you home," she reiterated.
"Yeah? No kidding? Hell, all right, suit yourself."
"Good. Then let's go." She slid from her barstool and hoped he could walk on his own. Surprisingly the man could, and actually pretty steadily. He even walked ahead in order to open the door for her, still a gentleman to the end, even drunk as a skunk.
At her car, she unlocked the driver's door, and he opened it for her before he went around to the passenger side and got in without any prompting. "Which way?" she asked, since she wasn't exactly sure where he lived.
"Above Johnson's Hardware store."
"Oh...well that's different," she commented. Never in a million years would she have guessed that was where he resided.
"Hey, it's not bad. And it's cheap and close to the bars and work."
All the requirements of a single man's pad. "So what have you been doing this week?"
He turned and gave her a wary look. "Trust me on this one---you don't wanna know," he mumbled gruffly.
"Seriously? You had that bad of a week, huh?" She turned onto Pine Street and headed towards the family-run hardware store.
He shrugged indifferently. "All right, I had the flu," he gave out, not sounding excited in the least to admit it.
"Josh! Why didn't you call me and tell me? I would have come over and taken care of you."
"Great, that's just what I needed, another female taking care of me. I already had too many sisters and aunts besides my mom trying to wheedle their way into my apartment, bringing me food and stuff, when all I wanted to do was sleep and throw up."
She laughed at his disgruntled statement, finding his plight endearing to say the least. "Well, at least I know you weren't avoiding me all week," she confessed, as she turned into the alley behind Johnson's Hardware and found a parking spot in the community parking lot.
"That's what you thought?" he blurted out, sounding surprised.
She switched off the lights and turned off the engine before turning to face him. "Well, at Thanksgiving at your parents' house, we talked about getting together this past weekend after I got back from Chicago, but then when you walked me back to the Bergstroms' you seemed kind of distant when you said goodbye, and today is Wednesday. So when I didn't hear from you..."
"...you thought I was all talk," he finished. "I'm sorry, Amber. I didn't mean to upset you that night. Plus I should have called you and clued you in."
"It's all right. And I understand how men are when they're sick," she answered softly, wondering where this thing between them was going, hoping they could pick up where they'd left off almost two weeks ago.
He leaned closer to her and eyed her through narrowed slits as he took a deep, unsteady breath, then released it slowly. "So, do ya wanna crash here tonight?"
She suppressed a smile and realized no one could ever accuse J.T. Craig of being too suave in the romance department. She knew 'do you wanna crash here tonight?' would be the best offer she'd ever receive from him, take it or leave it. And though his offer was made half tanked-up and was less than stellar and smooth...it was still exactly what she had hoped for. She also knew regardless of the time, place, or circumstances, he'd probably still angle her into his apartment the very same way---and that was just one of the reasons she found herself in love with him. He was always true to himself and never tried to be anything he wasn't. Even if that meant he could be crude, lame, awkward, and sometimes shy and backwards.
"Yes, I will," she whispered.
\*\*\*\*
"Just thought I'd ask, but I understand if you don't...did you say yes?" he questioned, stunned beyond belief. He knew he'd had way too much to drink tonight, but not that much. The woman actually said yes?
"If you want me to?"
"Hell yeah. Come on," he ordered. He didn't want to waste another minute, or give her the chance to change her mind and back out on him.
They got out, and he came around the front of the car, immediately grabbing her gloved hand in his, before leading her into the back entrance and up a flight of stairs and down a softly lit hall. After three tries, he successfully managed to get his key to turn in the lock. "Go on in," he offered and trailed behind her. Meanwhile, he tried to breathe and think straight. Both tasks were impossible, however, due to the fact that she'd actually agreed to spend the night with him, and he was totally trashed besides.
He quickly switched on a lamp next to his beat-up looking sofa. She glanced around his apartment, taking in the usual flat-screen TV, furniture that had seen better days, along with a pile of dirty dishes in the sink and a rumpled, unmade bed.
"Nice," she commented and turned to smile at him.
He quirked a dark, mocking brow at her. "Yeah, this is where all the magic happens, I guess," he joked, though he felt anything but relaxed at the moment.
She giggled at his self-inflicted dig. "Oh, yeah? Sounds interesting," she teased. She walked over to him and pulled off her gloves and fur-collared coat, tossing both items onto the sofa along with her purse.
He shrugged out of his heavy canvas coat, threw it on top of hers, and felt the sweat on the back of his neck. Swallowing hard, he tried to get a grip but failed miserably. "Want something to drink?"
"No."
"Eat?"
"No," she answered again in a soft, sexy voice. "But I could go for another one of those kisses you gave me on Thanksgiving."
He grinned with relief, reached for her, and pulled her to him in one movement. "Why didn't you just say so?" he growled, hopelessly lost for her already.
She threaded her hands around his neck as he came down and covered her soft pink mouth with his, almost in a brutal fashion. The feel of her sent a rocket of powerful sensations through him. Without any further prompting from her, he took over and delivered the kind of kiss they'd both been craving since last seeing each other weeks ago---hot, driven, sexy, and definitely wild. His tongue drove into her mouth, teasing and dominating her as she moaned and worked her hands into his unruly black hair. Loving her teasing touch, he groaned and trailed a line of ardent kisses along her cheek, then down her delicate jawbone to her silky neck. Kissing her at Thanksgiving had only been a tortured, futile preview, with family members trailing in and out while he tried to restrain himself. Tonight he didn't have to think about any of that. With pent-up passion, he continued to kiss her roughly, like he couldn't get enough of her, while he greedily roamed his hands over her firm derriere; he finally had the freedom to explore what had taunted him for the last year.
Just a little out of control, he simultaneously nipped at her neck with his teeth and maneuvered his hands up to hastily pull her silk blouse out of her skirt. That completed, he spanned her smooth, curved waist with both hands, then her delicate narrowed ribs, finally pushing upward to the sides of her bra. The piece of lingerie didn't seem like much of anything to him---just a tiny scrap of nothing---which only made him more turned on than he was already.
More than willing to move things along, she reached between them and quickly unbuttoned her blouse. He used the opportunity to unhook her front closure bra and impatiently pushed away the flimsy, lacy black-and-red rose trimmed garment. He could barely believe he was finally seeing what had tortured his imagination for the past year. For fear that he could hurt her, he gentled his touch and softly caressed her full breasts with his hands. He groaned low and hard, trying to slow himself down a little. He ground his jaw painfully, took a deep, unsteady breath, and willed himself to remember that he wasn't the only one having sex tonight. This night wasn't just about him. Reined in somewhat, he leaned down and tenderly brushed the sides of her sensitive breasts with a now feather-light caress from his lips, before he moved to lick, then suck her soft pink nipples with a teasingly gentle touch; she tossed her head back, arched with the pleasure, and echoed his groan with a deep-throated sensual moan of her own.
The feel of her warm silky skin beneath his hands, the alluring scent of her, the feel of her curved body against his made it almost impossible for him to keep himself in check. He shivered with controlled heated energy as she finally unbuttoned his work shirt and pushed it aside, then proceeded to run her small, warm hands over his muscled chest and taut stomach. He held himself rigid and fought to breathe. He was in sheer agony/ecstasy as he let her discover his body intimately. Her sexy green eyes roamed over his naked torso as she pushed his shirt off his broad shoulders. She then trailed her hands downward to teasingly finger the waistline of his work pants before starting in on his belt. He swallowed hard and tried to hold himself back. But he was losing fast. Besides that, he must have drunk way too much tonight, because he couldn't believe this was actually happening right now, in his dumpy apartment of all places. He yanked his shirt off the rest of the way and moved his hands to frame the sides of her face, then leaned down to kiss her long and hard again, feeling something for her that he'd never thought possible.
"Amber..." He pulled back, breathing heavily as he leaned down and looked with a deep penetrating gaze directly into her eyes. He willed himself to think straight and say what he wanted to without sounding like some drunk guy at a party. "...I think you're so damn beautiful. Do you know that? Christ, you're so beautiful that you make my gut ache---but in a good way. And you always look so damn hot. And I never thought I'd ever say this to a woman...but baby...I love you so damn much...I love everything about you. Like the way you smile at me... It never fails to knock me dead. And those sexy eyes of yours always kill me. Sometimes I can't even think when you're around. And you're beautiful inside too. Just the way you're so sweet with kids and nice to my family... Christ, I can't believe you want kids. I've always wanted a big family too. Shit...I don't know if you want to hear this stuff or not, but that's the way I feel about you. I've felt this way for a long time, and I can't go around pretending I don't any longer."
Wide-eyed, she listened to his rambling confession, clearly a little shocked that he would choose this moment to tell her he loved her. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear," she finally whispered, breathless, looking like she was fighting off actual tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. "And that was perfect...just perfect."
Thankfully, instead of falling to the floor in a heap, the woman just leaned up and kissed him this time. Then she pulled back to whisper in a sexy-naughty voice, "Now, are you going to finish undressing me, or do you want me to do it while you watch?"
He narrowed his eyes at her and grinned wickedly. He was sure he must have imagined her saying that through his tequila-induced haze, because there was no way in hell all his fantasies were actually about to come true in one night.
"Baby, whatever you wanna do---it's a win-win for me."
Chapter Fourteen: About Last Night...
Gray morning light filtered past the half-closed shades and dingy-looking windows as Amber wondered when in the world the man would finally wake up.
For the past half hour she'd been lying next to him in his bed, looking him over freely, taking an up-close and personal inventory of one J.T. Craig. She'd found his ever-present dark stubble fascinating, the brawny column of his neck and his prominent Adam's apple rugged, his strong nose and dark eyebrows attractive. Not to mention she liked the way his nose was slightly angled and not quite straight, no doubt from being broken a few times playing hockey. She also liked the way his hair did its own thing: short, black, silky, with a little curl to it, it really didn't have any certain style, but it suited him perfectly.
Under the covers, she snuggled up against his side with one silky naked leg thrown over the top of one of his hairy muscled ones. She lightly ran a hand over his strong chest and well-built shoulders and down one of his muscled arms, loving the powerful feel of him, admiring the way her white skin contrasted against the naturally darker tan of his.
With nothing to lose, she decided to take advantage of the situation and finally explore his body thoroughly this morning, as he had hers last night. The man had covered her entire body with his hands, lips, mouth, and tongue, leaving not one square inch of her that wasn't tingling, heated, or satisfied.
But now it was her turn.
Slowly she climbed on top of his hard, warm body and slid down him until she was finally able to run her mouth along his taut, rock-hard stomach. It was an act she'd fantasized about ever since seeing him in Henry and Son's without his shirt on. Taking her time, she licked and kissed a path across his six-pack abs and up his solar plexus, as he finally moved in his sleep and moaned. His large, calloused hands gripped her lightly around her waist, then caressed her naked back. Undaunted, she continued on with her exploration of his awesomely ripped body; she loved the way he was so pumped and hot looking, even lying dead to the world.
She smiled to herself as she slid up his chest to nuzzle her mouth against his warm throat. She inhaled deeply. She loved the musky pure male scent of him. At the same time, she extended her hand back down his stomach and further to grip and caress the one part of him that definitely wasn't asleep anymore. She heard him release a low-throated moan---obviously enjoying the way she simultaneously nipped his neck with her teeth and stroked him with her hand.
Impatient for him to open his eyes, she decided to take matters into her own hands---which she guessed she already had---and get the guy to finally wake up. She tossed her long hair over one naked shoulder and worked herself back down the length of his hard body until she slid onto him, taking him fully into her, which was easy since he was more than ready to go. Moving on him, she teasingly slid up and down on his morning hard-on, brushing her sensitive full breasts against his muscled chest, her silky hair trailing sensually against his warm skin. He finally pried his eyes open a crack and pulled her head down to his for a long, dredging, sexy-hot, good-morning kind of kiss, which left her breathless and even more turned on. If that was possible.
Instead of letting him take the lead like last night---not that she had any complaints this morning, since the guy really knew how to show a woman a good time in bed---she pulled back and maneuvered herself just so, positioning herself for a guaranteed mind-blowing good time. Mainly thanks to Josh and her knowledge that she usually came faster on top, as she had last night. Not that she hadn't loved the way he'd made her come the other two times last night.
Close to her ultimate goal, she leaned back down and covered his mouth with hers. She moaned helplessly and easily acquiesced to the breathtaking sensations that rippled through her body and mind at the same time. So exactly why did I put the man off for the last year??
\*\*\*\*
Josh groaned against her mouth. Now fully awake, he realized he'd slept through part of the best morning of his life. This had to be the ultimate wake-up call.
That was his only thought as he flipped her over onto her back and took over what she'd started. He kissed her again before trailing his mouth along her jaw and silky neck, all the while moving rhythmically with her. He could never get enough of the woman, no matter how long or hard he kissed, touched, or held her against him. Each feel of her, with his mouth or under his hands, only made him want her more and more.
With her already on her way to the finish line, he took advantage of her headstart and caught up so they could finish together. That was something he'd yet to experience with a woman---until this morning. Now he knew firsthand that coming together definitely wasn't overrated; both of them were in total sync with each other. All their movements, heavy breathing, and moans of hotly intense pleasure seamlessly blended together.
Completely drained of energy, he dropped his heated body down on her for a few seconds. He tried to stop his chest from heaving but found it impossible, since he was so damn worked up. With a groan, he reluctantly moved off of her and fell stomach down next to her, with one leg still thrown over the top of both of hers. "Mornin'," he mumbled gruffly against her neck. He loved the sexy, sweet smell of her skin and hair and how she always looked so damn hot, even this morning, all tousled, with serious bed-head and buck naked besides.
She giggled at his morning greeting. "Morning, baby," she whispered sexily. "That was great, but I really liked that one thing you did last night---a lot."
He now felt the painful effects of last night's pity-drinking binge, but he still managed to pick up on her baiting tone. The woman had an evil streak. "Trying to wear me out?" he grumped.
"Nope," she giggled and snuggled against his warm, muscled, hairy length. "I'm just making up for lost time."
"Lost time, huh? Well, give me a few minutes, then we'll...Christ! Time. What time is it?" He rose slightly and glanced over to his bedside clock. "Uh, man, I'm an hour late for work."
He dropped back onto her and moaned against her neck as reality set in. "I gotta go work."
She giggled unmercifully as she ran her hand down his back with a sensual caress. "Sure about that?"
He growled threateningly. "Yeah, and stop tempting me to stay in bed." His reply only made her laugh seductively this time. He gave himself another minute to convince himself to move.
Somewhat stiffly, he forced himself out of bed with a heavy groan. His head pounded like a jackhammer as he tried in vain to hastily gather and pull on his clothes, which lay scattered about the apartment floor. The same ones he had been wearing yesterday. All the while, she did nothing but languidly prop herself against the headboard with a few pillows and proceed to pull a wrinkled sheet around her.
"Josh, you're the boss now. I don't think it's a big deal to be late one day."
He pulled on his dirty work pants over his briefs and zipped them up before scrambling to pull on his work boots, minus socks he couldn't locate. "Yeah, I know, but I'm always the first one in. I have been for the last ten years. Plus I always close up the shop at the end of the day. Except for the past few days when I was out sick," he told her, looking this way and that for his shirt.
"Here." She tossed him his dirty name-stitched shirt, since it was on her side of the bed. "You're very dedicated. You really like your job, don't you?"
He swallowed hard and glanced across the room to her while he frantically pulled on his shirt, then grabbed his jacket off his ratty-looking sofa. "Ah, yeah, I guess. I like figuring out engines and making them work," he admitted. He wished the woman would stop looking so damn tempting, sitting up in bed with just a sheet around her, her hair all mussed and sexy.
"Mmm, I think that's great," she murmured.
She continued to watch him with lazy interest as he left his shirt unbuttoned in order to hastily pull on his heavy-duty work coat. Self-consciously he gave the woman an early morning view of his ripped chest and stomach. "Are you gonna just lay there and watch me all morning?" he teased, while he glanced around his apartment for his belt.
"You'd better believe it," she taunted with a sexy smile, apparently in no hurry to leave. "So what's up for tonight?"
"Ah, tonight?" he mumbled, distracted since he couldn't find anything this morning.
He continued to glance around his apartment for his truck keys as a sudden flash of last night ricocheted around his pounding head. It was a big, loud and clear flash of him spewing and pouring out all kinds of crap to her that had lurked in the back of his mind like some dirty secret for the past year.
He glanced at her and slowly felt all the blood drain out of his body. Oh shit.
\*\*\*\*
She hid a smile, since she knew exactly why an expression of extreme dread had suddenly appeared on his handsome face. The man was not only worried about being late for work but must have suddenly remembered what he'd confessed to her last night. "Yes, tonight," she reiterated innocently. "Do you want to come over to my place after work, and we'll continue this in my bed tonight?"
He gave her a look of dire regret. "Uh, you know, I was thinking..." He stumbled on his words as he turned away to search under the sofa for something and then again under the bed. "...I mean it's probably a good idea, you know, for us to start fresh...uh...I mean kinda wipe the slate clean after last night and actually go out on a date and forget about last night...not the sex part, but the other stuff..."
She had to work not to laugh at the way he was suddenly very ill at ease. "Clean slate?" she questioned, purposely trying to sound confused.
He grabbed his wallet off the floor from beside the bed, where it must have dropped last night when he kicked off his pants in a hurry. "Yeah, you know...uh, like start over and just take this slow and go out on some dates and stuff like that," he proposed again, while he looked around his apartment and patted himself down at the same time.
"Oh, okay! Guess that works for me," she said cheerfully. Secretly, she knew there was no way in hell the man was going to back out of what he'd told her last night.
"Great," he mumbled with apparent relief, his brow furrowed, as he continued to look over his apartment and under his sofa again. "How about we go out Saturday night? I'll pick you up at seven."
"Sounds good," she sang. "And I like that clean slate idea."
"Uh, awesome," he stated, somewhat frantic as he scanned his apartment. He swore under his breath, apparently giving up on finding whatever he was looking for. Instead, he glanced across the bed to her. "Come here, baby."
She giggled and shuffled across to him as he leaned down on the bed with one knee and dragged her the rest of the way to him, pulling her sheet and all right up against his coarse coat and still unbuttoned work shirt. He kissed her thoroughly, roughly, as if it would be weeks before he saw her again. "See ya on Saturday," he growled, then reluctantly pushed her back down and away from him.
"See you on Saturday," she echoed in a whisper, while she snuggled back down under the covers and watched as he headed for freedom.
He pulled open his apartment door, paused, and glanced down at his apartment key still in the lock. "Oh, man, my truck," he groaned with recognition. "That's right. I can't find my keys because Coop took them last night. My truck is still back at Hugo's. Shit!"
"Need a lift to work?" she offered and attempted not to laugh at his despair.
He looked back at her and put up both hands as if warding her off. "Nah, just...uh, just stay where you are. I'll walk to work and get my truck later. Actually, stay as long as you want. Hell, I gotta go...see ya later," he rambled. By now he looked like some kind of cornered animal.
"Bye," she called to him as he bolted out the door and slammed it behind him.
In no hurry, she sunk back against his rumpled pillows and bed linens, listening to his heavy departing footsteps, finally able to release the pent-up laugh she'd been holding over the way he'd just acted. Which included: cute, adorable, and totally male. Just like any guy would act the morning after blurting out his deep, dark feelings to a woman. Before even going out on a date, for goodness sakes. He was probably cursing himself out right now for making the ultimate male blunder. Most men wouldn't say what he had last night after proposing, during a long engagement, or even after twenty years of marriage.
She reached for her purse next to the bed and extracted her cell phone. She giggled happily as she rang Stacy and smiled while she waited for her friend to pick up.
"Hey, it's me. I've got a huge favor to ask."
\*\*\*\*
Josh sat at his desk in his jammed-full-of-crap office and ran his hands down his unshaven face, moaning in acute pain. Pain due more to the sick feeling in his gut than the pounding in his skull, which, incidentally, still throbbed from all the stupid-ass shots he'd downed last night. But the worst sensation, hands down, was the way his stomach had twisted up in knots from all the stupid-ass stuff he'd gone and blurted out last night. It outdid any head-pounding hangover by a long shot.
I think you're so damn beautiful.
I love you so damn much.
I've always wanted a big family.
It was a miracle the woman even wanted to stay and have sex with him after all that. Although he wouldn't blame her if she was looking into relocating to another state this morning.
"J.T., here's your coffee. Sure you want it black though?" Tom questioned, knowing his new boss was famous for his sickening, sugared-up coffee.
Josh only managed a low, mean-sounding grunt as Tom placed the steaming mug of coffee in front of him and hightailed it out of the office.
"Told ya last night you'd regret those shots this morning," Coop called out when he passed the office door.
Josh's only reply was to ignore the smug SOB, lay his head down on his desk, and will himself to die.
"Hey, J.T., not looking so good this morning, man," Hank observed, sticking his shaved head in the office door. When Josh turned and gave a hard, bleary-eyed look in return, Hank quickly moved past the office.
"Not feelin' so hot this morning, J.T.?" Shane paused as he made his way past the office door, and Josh groaned heavily again. "My mom told me you can sometimes get setbacks after having the flu." Shane gave him one more sympathetic glance before continuing on. "Take it easy, man."
Setbacks? Christ! How about experiencing major lapses in judgment after having the flu?
He leaned back in his office chair and closed his eyes. Oh man, like Coop had predicted, he seriously regretted that last double shot of tequila last night---but not as much as he regretted everything that had poured out of his damn mouth. It was like he'd downed three double shots of F'in truth serum.
But if I had it to do over, would I not sleep with her?
Hell no!
He might have been wasted, but he still remembered every kiss, lick, every touch and feel of her skin, every soft moan from her, the way she moved against him all silky and warm and how it felt to finally run his hands over her at free will, over every damn square inch of the woman, obsessively feeling her up time and again like some kind of crazy man. Luckily she hadn't complained, even though he couldn't seem to get enough of her.
Besides that, he'd pulled out all the stops with her last night, showed her every move he knew, and took the lead all night---which was kinda nice, since some women scared the hell out of him with all the weird stuff they wanted to do with him. Or to him! Or what they wanted him to do. Jeez. Even though he didn't mind mixing it up once in a while, he still didn't need all the bells and whistles when it came to sex, and he didn't need any priming with the right woman.
Although he definitely couldn't complain about her way of waking a guy up.
He moaned in deep pain again. Last night and this morning would have been perfect, if not for the fact he'd gone and spilled his guts to the woman like some demented stalker, telling her everything he'd held inside for so long.
He'd gone and broken the one rule all guys knew---never let a woman know how much you really need her.
At least not until you were engaged. Or freakin' married.
Yep. No doubt about it.
He'd royally messed up this time.
\*\*\*\*
Amber looked over the shoulder-to-shoulder packed restaurant and bar and spotted him easily. After all, he was the only guy in The Brick Station wearing grubby, two-day-worn stained and wrinkled work clothes, along with the matching two-day-old dark stubble on his face. She also had to smile at the way his unruly black hair looked matted down on one side. It's no wonder I'm crazy in love with the guy.
"So, what's a hot guy like you doing in a place like this?"
He jumped and turned to look at her, an uneasy expression on his handsomely tired face.
"Uh, hey, baby," he ground out, obviously perplexed as to why she'd worn some naughty-looking red dress and super sexy four-inch heels, and why she was in The Brick Station all alone, dressed like she was ready for a big night out on the town.
"Hey yourself," she teased. "Meeting someone?"
"Uh, I'm here because Marc called me earlier today and made it sound like it was some kind of big emergency that I meet him here after work tonight. And trust me, a bar is the last place I wanna be after last night at Hugo's. So what are you doin' here tonight?"
She shrugged and appreciated the way he both looked her over with those sexy, warm brown eyes of his, yet seemed suddenly very on edge and uneasy. "I'm waiting for my date."
She watched him swallow hard. "Date??" he blurted out like he couldn't believe she'd actually just said that, especially after what had happened between them last night and this morning in his apartment. In his bed, no less.
"Yeah, Stacy recommended this guy to me. She told me he was sweet, hardworking, smart, had a hot body, nice family and wanted six kids someday with the right woman."
To her relief, she finally saw the light of recognition in his eyes as he shook his head and laughed outright. "Very funny. You had me goin' until the six kids part," he admitted, then quickly pulled her to him and onto his lap. "For some reason, I feel like this was a set-up."
She smiled broadly, looped her arms around his brawny, muscled neck and snuggled against his broad chest. "You seriously didn't think I was going to wait all the way till our date on Saturday night to see you, did you? Besides, I think dating is highly overrated, if you ask me."
"Is that so?"
"What's so great about it? It takes time, effort, mental toughness and nerves of steel. I think we should just skip it altogether."
"Oh yeah? So what do you want to do then? Get married?" he joked.
"Is that a proposal?" she countered slyly.
"Hell yeah, I guess it is," he declared, though he clearly didn't take her seriously---yet.
She decided to call his bluff. "Great, because there's a good chance we're probably pregnant already, since you didn't use any condoms last night or this morning and I'm not on any birth control. And, technically, we did kiss under Cedar Point's famous Mistletoe Turkey at your parents' house last month." She leaned into him to kiss him briefly on the lips, then grinned mischievously.
"You mean...you really wanna get married to me and have six kids?" he asked, astonished. He now seemed to realize she was dead serious, but he still looked like he couldn't comprehend or quite believe she even wanted to be seen with him, let alone be his wife and have his children and spend her life with him. But she did.
She fingered the hair at the nape of his neck. "Yes, I really wanna marry you," she stated softly. "But maybe we could have four children and we could adopt two?"
"You're something else, you know that?" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Let me guess...you want to adopt Katie and Dillon?"
She shook her head. "Actually, the Bergstroms are adopting them both. That's what Matt was doing in my office last night. He was helping me with the adoption papers. I'm starting to go into family law, and the Bergstroms are my first family practice clients. I want to switch out of defense into family law so I can eventually have more time to be a stay-at-home mom. Or at least a part-time stay-at-home mom."
He smiled, evidently liking what she was telling him. "Good---no more jailhouse visits," he grumped lightly. "And if you want to stay home full time, that's okay with me, baby. I'll be able to take care of you and our family. I swear you'll never regret hooking up with me."
Her gaze roamed lovingly over his handsome, unshaved face. "I only regret not hooking up with you sooner," she whispered fervently. Deep in her soul, she knew that was the absolute, sworn-oath truth.
Looking slightly choked up by her admission, he tightened his hold on her possessively, pulled her closer, and moved his rough face against her cheek. "I love you so damn much," he growled into her ear. His words were heartfelt and sincere, for only her to hear---since they were currently planning their life together in some crowded bar after work.
She tried to force the teary sound from her voice. "I know. You told me that last night, remember?" she teased weakly, whispering her reply back into his ear. She loved the way he groaned with torture into her own ear at the recalled memory. "But what you probably don't remember is that I told you I loved you last night too, right before you passed out cold."
She felt him tense suddenly. "No shit?"
She laughed shakily, close to joyous tears now, but still thankful for his typical J.T. response. "Yes, I really love you, J.T. Craig."
"Well, it's about time," he growled intimately. "I was beginning to wonder what it was gonna take to get a hot chick like you to fall in love with a guy like me."
Her satisfied laughter drifted across his ear with loving warmth, her baby-breath caress intimate and telling. Meanwhile, the patrons beside them mingled amongst themselves, their soft, murmured voices blending with the usual restaurant sounds as someone opened the front doors, admitting a gust of icy snowflakes that danced in with the night air.
The End
....and the beginning.
Thank you for purchasing this Wild Rose Press publication. For other wonderful stories of romance, please visit our on-line bookstore at www.thewildrosepress.com
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