All of Me (35 page)

Aimee, he should think of Aimee. Aimee would help him forget Jillian.

Okay, okay, what did he love most about Aimee?

Tuck wracked his brain, and in that panic-stricken moment, realized he couldn’t call up his wife’s face. Whenever he tried
to imagine Aimee, he saw Jillian. Instead of Aimee’s blond locks twining down her back in soft curls, he saw Jillian and her
patrician Cleopatra haircut. Black and straight and angled to her shoulders. He tried to remember how Aimee had felt in his
arms all soft and round and girly. But instead, his fingers were recalling the touch of Jillian’s strong, lithe, athlete body.

Jillian was in his head. Not just in his head but on his skin. He could smell her. Taste her. She’d invaded his senses like
a dictator taking over a country.

Thankfully, he’d finally reached Evie and Ridley’s house. He kicked off his skis and whammed his fist against their door.

Ridley answered, his hair down around his shoulders, looking comfortable in sweatpants and a red flannel shirt. “Dude,” he
said. “You look like hell. What happened?”

“What happened?” Tuck said, shouldering past his brother-in-law. “I’ve been snowed in for three days with Jillian Samuels.
That’s what happened.”

“The plot thickens.”

Tuck raked his gaze over Evie. “How’d you guys weather the storm?”

Ridley shut the door behind him. “Your sister and I have been snowed in as well. It started out sketchy. Just before the storm
hit, I caught Evie in my sweat lodge. She’d had a vision that really upset her, but then I convinced the her dream was a good
omen, not a bad one, and we straightened everything out. If things went as good as I think they did, you might be an uncle
in nine months. We stayed in bed the entire three days.”

“Aw, come on, man.” Tuck clamped his hands over his ears. “I don’t want to hear that stuff about my sister.”

Ridley grinned. “You’re jealous because I got some and you didn’t?”

“Well … ,” Tuck said, trailing off.

“Huh?” Ridley blinked.

Tuck paced the tile floor of their living room in his ski boots.
Clump, clump, clump.
“It was the snow. The fireplace. The Baileys Irish Cream …”

“You and Jillian did it?” Ridley asked.

“Yes.”

“Damn.”

“What is it? What’s wrong? Is it the jinx thing?”

Ridley laughed. “No. I was pretty well off base about the jinx thing. I owe your sister twenty bucks.”

“Huh?”

“Evie bet me twenty bucks if you guys got snowed in together you’d end up in bed.”

It was Tuck’s turn to curse, but he said something a lot stronger than
damn
. “It was a mistake. A huge mistake.”

“It was just sex, right? How big a mistake could it be? Unless you forgot to wear a condom.”

“I wore a condom.” He clenched his jaw and dropped down on the leather love seat. “It’s not that.”

“You want a beer?”

“Please.”

Ridley retrieved the beer, popped the top, and pressed it into Tuck’s hand, but after one swallow, Tuck didn’t want it. His
brother-in-law perched on the hearth, where he sat and just waited.

Tuck started talking. He told him everything. The kissing, the dancing, the watching of
When Harry Met Sally
, the downing of Baileys Irish Cream. The great sex. The really great sex that came after the sex. And the terrible sex where
he got up in the middle of things and ran away.

“Wow,” Ridley said after he’d finished. “You really screwed up.”

“Tell me about it. Thing is, this morning, she wanted to forget all about it. Didn’t even want to discuss it.”

“Can you blame her?”

Misery crawled through him. He pulled a palm down his face. “What should I do?”

If anyone could help him think of a way through this sticky mess, it was Ridley. His brother-in-law could handle temperamental
Evie when no one else on the planet seemed to be able to manage that trick. Tuck valued his opinion and his advice.

“Nothing,” Ridley said sagely.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“But I can’t stop thinking about her, and I have to live with her, and how can I wake up every morning and see her and go
to bed every night in a separate room and not touch her and …”

“Take a deep breath,” Ridley advised.

“You, you’re the one who caused all this. You put me in your sweat box—”

“Sweat lodge,” he interrupted to correct Tuck.

“And you made me have this vision quest I wasn’t even interested in having.”

“You needed it.”

“I have this pervy sex dream about her and then I meet her in the flesh. It’s spooky. It’s weird. The hairs on my arms go
up every time I think about it. Then you tell me she’s a jinx and to stay away from her. Then you come back and tell me you
were wrong and that she’s good for me, and and so I started thinking, maybe,
maybe
…” Tuck was getting light-headed from not pausing to breathe.

“Hey.” Ridley shrugged. “I’m as fallible as the next guy.”

“You could have told me that
before
I took your advice. Now she’s looking at me as if I’m a leper, and I’ve ruined our friendship to boot.”

Ridley got up, came across the room, and clamped a hand on Tuck’s shoulder. “You, my friend, have a lot to learn about the
fairer sex. I can’t believe you were married for three years and never figured this stuff out.”

“What do you mean?”

“Jillian’s probably feeling exactly the same way you are. Worse maybe. You did get up and leave her in the middle of sex.
What’s she supposed to think? She’s gotta be thinking she repulsed you somehow. So to save face this morning, she comes up
with this let’s-forget-all-about-it plan.”

“You really think so?”

“Sure I do and—hey, are those
hickeys
?”

Tuck slapped a hand over his neck. “None of your business,” he mumbled, remembering exactly when Jillian had stamped him with
her love bites.

Ridley cocked his head and pretended to pout, but his eyes were twinkling with laughter. “Evie’s never given me hickeys.”

“Stop feeling jealous. If you want hickeys, ask her for hickeys.”

“She says they’re trashy.”

“Then tell her to give you a hickey where no one can see it.”

“Good idea.”

“Could we get back to the issue at hand? What am I supposed to do about living with Jillian?”

Ridley pursed his lips and placed his hands on his hips. “Move out, I guess.”

His brother-in-law said the words Tuck needed to hear. He knew he needed to hear them, but he still wished Ridley hadn’t said
it.

“You know, I’ve never seen you this affected by a woman since Aimee.”

“I never …” Tuck paused, unable to believe what he was about to say. “I was torn in two when I lost Aimee. It was like I had
my heart ripped out of my chest, but, Rid, when we were dating, I never felt this kind of torment. What Aimee and I had was
quiet and calm and tender. This thing with Jillian—”

All teasing humor was gone in his brother-in-law’s eyes. “Is true passion. That’s why you walked out on her in the middle
of sex—she scared the crap out of you.”

A chill went straight through his bones. He didn’t want to admit it. Didn’t want to say it. Didn’t want to feel it. He refused
to betray Aimee’s memory and what they’d shared.

“You were pretty young when you and Aimee got married,” Ridley said.

“I loved her.”

“I’m not saying you didn’t love Aimee. I’m just saying there’s more than one kind of love.”

“I’m not in love with Jillian,” Tuck insisted, but even as he said, it he felt something treacherous tighten his chest.

Ridley started humming 10cc’s “I’m Not in Love.”

“Knock it off.” Tuck scowled.

He was not in love. He couldn’t be in love. Aimee had been his soul mate. They’d both known it. You only get one soul mate.
Right?

Ridley kept humming.

“I’m not in love,” Tuck growled.

He wondered if Jillian believed in soul mates. She’d told him she didn’t believe in magic, but what they’d shared last night—until
he’d screwed things up—had been pretty damn magical, indeed.

And if he admitted it (which he didn’t), then he’d have to confess (which he couldn’t) that the sexual magic between them
was stronger than what he’d shared with Aimee.

Tuck shoved the thought away. Jillian was just older, more experienced than Aimee had been. She knew tricks his sweet little
bride had never dreamed of; that didn’t mean anything except sex with Jillian had been great. No, beyond great. It had been
… well …
magical
.

Jillian probably didn’t think so. She’d been quick to deny it this morning. But what if Ridley was right? What if Jillian
had just said those things to save face?

“Tuck?”

“Huh?”

“You might want to set that beer bottle down before you bust it in your hand,” Ridley advised.

Tuck blinked at his brother-in-law. He’d zoned out, his mind caught in the past, worrying the dilemma. He’d forgotten he was
at Ridley and Evie’s house. He looked down and saw his hand was wrapped around the longneck Michelob bottle so tightly his
knuckles had blanched white. He forced himself to relax his grip and settle the bottle onto a coaster resting on the end table.

“You need to tell her.”

“Who?”

“Jillian.”

“Tell her what?”

“How you really feel.”

“I don’t know how I feel.”

“You do. You just don’t want to admit it.”

“I’m glad you’re so all wise and all-knowing, Rid. Wanna tell me what I’m thinking right now?”

“You’re thinking I should go screw myself.”

“See, you
are
all-knowing.”

Ridley shook a finger at him. “She got to you.”

“I like her, sure. I’m not denying that. We’re friends. Or we were. Now I don’t know what we are.” Longing mixed with despair,
then did the tango with an odd combo of hope and resignation.

“Friendship’s a great way to start a relationship.”

“We didn’t start out as friends. We started out as two people forced to share a space.”

“No one forced you. You could have left the lake house at any time. You could have moved in with me and Evie. You had options.
But you didn’t choose to exercise them. There’s a reason you didn’t leave. Why?”

“I don’t know, but whatever the reason, I can’t stay there now.”

“Granted. Not with the way you left things.”

“We can’t go back to being friends,” he mused. “No matter how much we both might want to pretend this never happened. Harry
was right.”

“Harry? Who’s Harry.”

“When Harry Met Sally.”

“Oh right, I agree with Harry. You can’t stay there and go back to the way things were. So make a move. Either take it a step
further and embrace the sex, or forget the friendship and give up the lake house. The deed has never shown up anyway. Just
let it all go.”

“It means letting go of Aimee,” Tuck whispered.

Ridley’s eyes were kind. “I know.”

Leave or stay? Did he want to embrace the sex? Yes. He wanted it a lot. Jillian had reconnected Tuck with the part of himself
that had stopped living the day Aimee had died, but was he really ready for such a huge step? On the other hand, was he ready
to walk away from Salvation? Say good-bye to his memories? Was he ready to let Aimee go?

“Whichever one you choose, just quit ruminating about it. You’re driving me nutty. We’re sitting here after a break in the
blizzard gabbing like girls when we should be outside getting stuff done while the sun’s shining. Pathetic.”

Just then the phone rang.

“Good to see we still have communication with the outside world,” Ridley said, and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

Tuck took a swallow of the beer he didn’t want.

“It’s for you.” Ridley handed the phone to him.

“Jillian?” he asked stupidly, nonsensically. There was no reason for her to call him here.

“Steve.”

“Steve?”

Ridley handed him the phone. Tuck put it to his ear.

“Yo, my man,” Steve said. “I finally got through. We’ve been trying to call you guys for days. Rang your house first, got
no answer, thought you might be here.”

“Blizzard just broke, cabin fever,” Tuck explained.

“Everyone good?”

“We made it through all right.”

“Good. Listen, I’ve got some great news for you about that music box.”

“Yeah?”

“I showed it to my friend, but it wasn’t something he handled, so he passed it off to a dealer who specializes in handmade
curios. She displayed it in her shop. Customers went nuts over the box. I knew they would. Anyway, she received offers upward
of twelve hundred dollars.”

Tuck was stunned. “For a music box?”

“There’s no substitute for craftsmanship. The dealer said it was like everyone who picked it up fell under its spell. Get
this, she took orders.”

“On my behalf?” Tuck didn’t know if he liked that or not.

“For customized boxes.”

“Before asking my permission?”

“Don’t get mad. She got thirty-five special orders at twelve hundred dollars a piece. She hasn’t taken any money. She told
them she didn’t know if the artist could deliver that quickly, so you’re not obligated. I’m telling you, that music box is
bewitched. The Magic Man rides again.”

“Huh?” Tuck couldn’t believe it.

“Listen, here’s the best part. Stella Bagby—that’s the dealer’s name—is going overseas for the winter. She’s willing to let
you stay in her place in Midtown while you make the boxes and she’s scouting out wholesale deals for the wood to maximize
your profits.”

“You want me to come back to Manhattan?”

“Just for the winter. Just until you get this new business established.”

“You’ve put in a lot of effort on my behalf.”

“Hey, you gave me a job when I sorely needed one. Plus, Desiree and the kids would love to have you so close. We miss you.
Ridley and Evie have had you long enough.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Just let me know soon. Stella wants to sublet if you’re not interested, and she leaves for Europe next week.”

“That’s not much time.”