Basic Training (7 page)

When he opened his eyes, she was on her hands and knees, retrieving the twisty thing that he’d torn from her hair and tossed beneath the practice stairs platform. “Right now it looks as if I’ll be sitting Amy down to tell her all of Morty’s good points and convince her it’s okay to go out with him. Just give me a call when your guests arrive, and we’ll wing it.”

He looked away from the tempting wiggle of that fanny in the air. Oh, yeah. Judging by the leap of interest beneath the towel, his body was ready to volunteer for the sexy makeover mission. But she’d wisely hesitated
to accept that kind of repayment from him. Maybe he could content himself with some verbal tips.

His whole body seemed to sag with disappointment.

Tess—friend. Any other woman—lover. He chanted like a caveman in his head and made sure his hormones understood the distinction by the time she stood to say goodbye. Travis winked into her guileless hazel eyes and said the words a friend would want to hear. “For what it’s worth, T-bone? Morty should’ve asked you out.”

“M
ORTY SHOULD’VE
asked you out.”

Yeah, but Morty hadn’t.

Tess had tried to get down and dirty with Travis, but that hadn’t happened, either. For a few feverish minutes, she’d been someone else. Someone sexy. Someone
hot
, to quote Travis himself.

Tess wiped the fog from the mirror over the sink and wrapped the bath towel beneath her arms. She caught her breath as the terry cloth rubbed across her nipples in a rough caress and they jumped to life, just as they had beneath the rasp of Travis’s tongue. A memory throbbed between her legs and she squeezed her thighs together. Her own hands went to her breast and waist, easing the torment of a body that remembered every touch that had left her on the brink of fulfillment, every kiss that had promised such pleasure, as if only seconds had passed instead of hours since Travis had pulled her onto that massage table with him.

That
was how a man should make her feel.

That
was what was missing from her life.

That rush, that fire, and the pay-off she’d denied herself today were things she deserved. There was only
so much a girl could do with a towel and the handheld entertainment she kept in the table beside her bed.

She looked at the woman in the mirror—her wet hair plastered to her scalp, her face scrubbed of any makeup, her hand clutching her breast—and for one brief moment, Tess saw herself the way Travis said she should.

She was irresistible.

There were curves beneath that towel. Seduction in those drowsy eyes and parted lips and bold hand. And the heat that opened her pores and glazed a sheen of dampness across her tanned skin didn’t come entirely from the shower she’d just taken.

No other man had ever made her feel this way. Had ever made her believe she was sexy.

But then she blinked and the plain brown mouse everyone else saw reappeared in the mirror. Ashton’s future Nixa Newhaven. Reliable as Old Faithful and common as a mud pot. Just about as sexy, too. Glub. Glub.

Travis claimed he could save her from spinsterhood by changing her reputation in town. At least he could save her from involuntary celibacy. With a little guided practice from him, he’d force the men of Ashton to see her as an exciting, sexy, datable—bedable—woman. Maybe their interest in her could spark her desire for one of them.

Tess snorted at her silly reflection. Yeah. Woulda, coulda, shoulda.

The bald truth was she wanted Travis.
He
made her feel sexy without batting an eyelash. She didn’t want to be made over for some other guy…but that was the practical thing to do, or else she’d be pining over Travis McCormick the rest of her life.

“Damn practicality.” Why couldn’t she just have what she wanted?

Why couldn’t she?

Tess picked up her comb and started detangling the shoulder-length kinks of hair, along with her wandering thoughts. Nah, she couldn’t. Could she?

He was home for two weeks. And then he’d be gone. They’d be reduced to e-mails and phone calls and letters. But for two weeks…?

“You shouldn’t.” She pointed to her reflection in the mirror. “But you want to.”

Should she really trade in her best friend for a drill sergeant who could transform her into a lean, mean sex machine? What if Travis’s so-called miracle makeover didn’t take? Or what if it did and she discovered there wasn’t another man in Ashton—or on the planet—she wanted as badly as she wanted him? Could she really walk away from a steamy, two-week training session like what they’d started on the massage table with her heart and pride and future intact?

Would a hot summer romance be enough to finally get him out of her system? Or would loving Travis forever spoil her for any other man?

Either she should ignore her attraction to Travis totally, or she should have the balls to see it through to its conclusion. She wasn’t sure she was sophisticated enough to have it both ways. Sophisticated, right—that was probably on one of those
irresistible
genes she was missing.

“Make a decision, Bartlett.” She frowned at the perplexed reflection in the mirror. “Go for it, or get over it.”

“Who are you talking to?” Her comb clattered into the sink at the sharp rap on the bathroom door. Amy
knocked on the door a second time. “Mom said dinner would be on the table in five.”

Catching her startled breath, Tess retrieved her comb and returned it to her toiletry bag beside the sink. “I’ll be there.”

With her sister’s knock, common sense returned. As did the memory of her promise to Morty.

“Hey, Ame—wait.” Anchoring the towel with one hand, Tess opened the door before Amy bounced back down the stairs. “Got a minute?” She nodded toward her bedroom across the hall. “I need to talk to you.”

Amy crossed her arms and regarded her with knowing brown eyes. “Need some sisterly advice?”

Tess opened the door and followed Amy into her room. “Not exactly.”

“Then what, exactly, is going on?” Plopping on the end of the bed, Amy curled her legs beneath her and grinned. “You and Travis were gone a long time this afternoon. Make any headway on joining the two clans together?”

Tess turned to her dresser, hiding the self-conscious blush that stained her cheeks by digging out a pair of panties and a bra. “Travis and I were just…” Plain white cotton, she noted, designed for practicality and support. Would Travis’s makeover include tossing out her underwear? Could the right bit of lace or color—or doing without—turn her into a seductress?

“You were what?” Amy shamelessly fished for a juicy tidbit.

Tess shoved the drawer shut and quickly pulled on the plain white turn-offs. “We were working out a training schedule.”

“For two hours?”

Before her feverish cheeks revealed any more of her obsessive thoughts about the captain next door, Tess turned the conversation back to Amy. “I got a phone call, actually, that concerns you.”

Amy caught the towel Tess threw at her. “Oh,” she sighed in disappointment. “Oh!” She sat up straight and balled the wet towel against her chest. “It wasn’t Barry, was it? The judge said I didn’t have to speak to him anymore. God, it would be just like him to make a play for me now that I’ve made it clear I want nothing to do with him. I’ll bet that cheesy little bimbette he was chasing doesn’t look nearly so hot now that the thrill of cheating is—”

“No,” Tess interrupted to reassure her sister and rescue the towel from her crushing grip. “I haven’t heard from Barry the Butthead since your final hearing.” Setting the towel safely out of harm’s way, Tess sat beside Amy. “Morty Camden called. He said you met at the McCormicks’ party on Thursday.”

Amy exhaled an audible sigh of relief. “Oh, sure. Morty. Receding hairline. Glasses. He was in your class at school, wasn’t he? He seemed older than that the other night. In a mature way, I mean. Not an old fogey. He has a lot of responsibility this week at the festival, doesn’t he?”

“The Chamber of Commerce was lucky to have him volunteer for the festival committee this year. With him in charge of finances, nothing’s gone over budget, and he’s used his connections in the business community to get nearly everyone in Ashton involved.” Was she laying it on too thick? Did Amy even realize how Tess was playing up Morty’s good qualities?

“He’s kind of quiet, but I imagine he’s very responsible.” Amy clapped her hands together and gasped in delight. “Did Morty ask you out? Go. You should go.”

If she got this excited for her, then hopefully…“He wants to ask you out.”

Amy’s smile deflated. “On a date?”

“That’s what they call ’em nowadays.” Her sarcasm went unnoticed. Amy was up, pacing the room.

“I can’t go on a date. I’m not ready for that.”

“Your divorce was finalized in May. You were separated for months before that.”

“Barry was the last man I dated. And I married him. I don’t want to make that kind of mistake again.”

“Relax. Morty isn’t asking you to get married. He just wants to take you to the festival. Maybe dinner.”

“Why didn’t he ask me himself? What’s wrong with him?” Amy clutched her pale cheeks. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing.” Tess got up and wrapped firm hands around Amy’s shoulders, shaking some calm into her sister. “Morty’s a little shy, so I said I’d put in a good word for him. But he fully intends to call you later this evening. Looks like it’s a good thing I mentioned it to you first so you won’t wig out on him.”

“I am not wigging out.” Tess’s unblinking stare told her another story. “Okay, maybe I am. Why would Morty want to go out with me?”

Tess released her sister to finish dressing. “Maybe because you’re beautiful. He liked talking to you. He felt a connection that he’d like to explore a little bit further.”

Amy was shaking her head. “But I’m an older woman.”

“By three years,” Tess scoffed. “Honey, you’ve got
to start seeing yourself in a new light. You are not Barry Friesen’s neglected, put-upon wife anymore. You are a gorgeous blond career woman who deserves to have a little fun while she’s home on vacation. It’s time you ended this moping martyr routine and got on with your life. Summer’s well underway. When are you going to start enjoying it?”

Chewing on a fingernail, her sister considered the advice. “Dating other men would be a good way to stick it to Barry.”

“Now you’re thinking.” Tess slipped on her tennis shoes and urged Amy to the door. “An evening with Morty would be a safe, easy place to start. He might not be the most exciting man in town, but he’s not a womanizer.”

“That already puts him one up on Barry. And Morty’s not that bad looking. If you look at him in a young Patrick Stewart with glasses kind of way, he’s actually sort of cute. And you know what they say about bald men…” Amy halted abruptly. “Wait. You know what they say about bald men. Maybe you’d better come with us.”

Tess groaned and shook her head. The man hadn’t even asked her out yet and Amy was freaking. “I can’t. I have to work the concession stand. Besides, three would definitely be a crowd in this case. Morty’s looking for a real date with you, not just someone to fill up the other side of the seat on the ferris wheel.”

“You think I should say yes?”

“It’s just one date.” And Tess had thought Amy was the Bartlett sister who had it all together when it came to men. “I’ve had a friendly lunch and dinner with Morty a few times, and he’s sweet. A gentleman from the word go. Once you coax him out of his shell and get him
talking about something he’s knowledgeable on, he can be very interesting. And if you’re bored to tears or you just don’t click, you don’t have to see him again. You’re heading back to Richmond for school in a couple of weeks, anyway, so you can be up front about this not turning into any kind of relationship.”

Amy started down the stairs to the kitchen. “I suppose. But it’s scary, Tess. My skills are rusty. I was married for a lot of years. That means I haven’t dated anyone since…” She paused on a step and turned, the frown line between her eyes indicating an unpleasant thought. No doubt something related to Barry.

“What?”

“Did I ever tell you about that summer in college when I was waitressing at The Bounty restaurant downtown?”

“Other than the fact it was the most money you’d ever made at a summer job and you hated that sailor outfit with the mini-skirt you had to wear, no, not much.” Was Amy keeping secrets from her? “Why bring that up? That was before you met Barry, wasn’t it?”

“The Bay Festival that year is probably what made Barry look so good.” Amy’s wry smile conveyed little humor. “Let’s just say that my last date here in Ashton was an unqualified disaster. I sure can pick ’em.”

Tess laid a reassuring hand on Amy’s arm. “That was more than a decade ago. You’re a different woman now. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself.”

“What if I haven’t outgrown my knack for giving my heart to losers?”

“Morty might have retained a few of his nerdier qualities from high school, but I wouldn’t call him a loser. And no one’s asking you to fall in love. Just get out of
the house and spend some time with the guy.” Tess offered an encouraging smile. “I promise it’ll be more fun than a root canal, and not nearly as painful.”

“Oh, now you’re really selling him to me.” Amy’s posture finally relaxed. “All right, I surrender. When Morty calls, I’ll give it a shot. But if this date turns out to be as awful as my last festival date, I guarantee there won’t be any second chances. I’ll go for safe over hot any day.”

“Safe?” Now Tess was the one frowning. That was the second mysterious reference Amy had made. “Did something happen that summer?”

Instead of answering, Amy chucked her under the chin. “It’s just good to know that some things around here never change. Thanks for the pep talk, kiddo.”

Amy waltzed off into the kitchen, leaving Tess alone with her troubling thoughts. She didn’t know what bothered her more—the idea that Amy had gone through something heartbreaking without telling her, or the knowledge that even her own sister perceived her as one of those things around Ashton that never changed.

Tess had just spent five minutes convincing Amy to see herself in a new light. Maybe Tess needed to take her own advice and think a little less like that plain brown mouse and a little more like an irresistible woman.