Fooling Around (15 page)

He could just give it to her and release her from the contract, but then she would feel like he’d paid her off for sex.

So he was stuck. Wanting desperately to be with her again but not having any clear path to doing so.

If he’d been smart, he would have stopped himself before it went too far. It would have been a lot easier to hold back if he didn’t really know what he was missing. But that just wasn’t like him. If there was something he wanted, he took it—as long as both parties were agreeable, why shouldn’t he? He didn’t believe in self-sacrifice.

So all night he thought through the situation and relived his time with Julie, finally deciding he’d have to wait until the morning and take his cue from her.

He’d do whatever she was most comfortable with, even if it meant restraining himself.

After all, he wouldn’t have to hold off forever. Their contract was almost halfway over now.

The next morning, Julie sent Tim in to help him get up and get to the bathroom, which Eric didn’t think was a very good sign.

She was starting to regret it. She was getting scared. She was going to back off.

He prepared himself for this likelihood as he got dressed. When he rolled out of his room at last, he found Julie standing over the stove. She was fully dressed, but more casually than usual in a sleeveless top and tan capris.

“I felt like pancakes,” she said, smiling at him and stepping over to pour him a cup of coffee.

He studied her closely as he sipped it, trying to read her expression. She looked calm and natural—even rather friendly—but it felt to him like a front, not what she was really feeling.

She was definitely going to take a step back.

When he didn’t reply to her comment, she gave him a sharp look. “Do you want any?”

“What?”

“Pancakes?”

“Oh. Yeah. Sure. That would be great.”

She nodded and smiled and flipped her pancakes, and none of it felt real.

Tim ate with them, so they had only casual, brief conversation over breakfast. When Tim finally went downstairs, Julie got up to do the dishes.

Eric moved his chair over closer to her. “So,” he asked in a low voice, “are you going to tell me what you’re thinking?”

“About what?”

He gave her an impatient look.

She sighed and her smile faded. “I don’t regret it,” she began.

“Good, because I don’t either.”

“But it makes things really complicated between us, so I think we’ll be better off just pretending it never happened.”

Eric had vowed to go along with whatever Julie decided, but he wasn’t happy about this plan at all. “You think that’s really possible?”

“Yes, I do. Obviously, we might think about it occasionally, but it doesn’t have to interfere with our working relationship. That’s what’s most important here.”

“Why is it most important?”

She arched her eyebrows. “Because we have a contract. And, as far as I know, neither one of us wants to change the conditions.”

She had a point there. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“So it’s either have things get really weird between us, so much so that it’s impossible for me to do my job, or pretend it never happened. I vote for the latter.”

Eric was sure there must have been some other options, but she had to be the one to make the decision here. Anything he said might be read as coercion or putting pressure on her. “You know you have your job no matter what. I’m not going to take it away from you, for any reason.”

To his surprise, her expression softened slightly. “I know that. I know you’re not that kind of man. But things will still get weird between us if we don’t put this aside.”

“Okay,” he said. “I understand and I agree.” He didn’t agree with wanting it, but he agreed to doing what she wanted. He wasn’t going to forget last night had happened, but he wouldn’t bring it up in any way with her until their contract was completed. “Last night never happened.”

“Good.” She nodded, for the first time looking a little self-conscious. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So what do you want to do today?” she asked.

He wanted to drag her back into his arms and take her until she was screaming as uninhibitedly as she had last night.

“I might go fishing.” It might be a little complicated in the wheelchair, but he was sure he and Tim could figure out some way to get him down to the beach.

“Oh. That sounds good and relaxing.”

Not as relaxing as having a few good rounds of sex would be.

He cleared his throat. “It’s a plan, then.”

The next few days were better than Julie had expected. She actually enjoyed herself, as long as she kept herself from thinking about having sex with Eric.

They went fishing in the mornings—at least, Eric and Tim fished. Sometimes she fished with them, and other times she relaxed on the beach and occasionally helped Eric out when he needed it. In the afternoons they took it easy by the pool, and they ate most of their meals outside. In every way it was what a relaxing beach vacation was supposed to be. Even though she was supposed to be working, she felt more rested by the end of the first week than she had in years.

She worked hard to be pleasant and natural with Eric, and she managed to keep her thoughts from straying to dangerous places too much. Eric was in a better mood himself—either because he was trying to be good or because he was enjoying the break.

Either way, they didn’t talk about what had happened between them next to the pool, and there weren’t even any wrong touches or looks.

Julie was relieved. She genuinely was. Maybe occasionally she missed the heat that had smoldered between them, but most of the time she knew it was better this way.

Eric wasn’t for her. And she would never get through the remainder of her contracted time with him if she indulged in sexy thoughts about him.

On Saturday, a week after they had arrived, they were sitting by the pool in the afternoon again.

Julie had moved to the shade, since she’d gotten slightly burned the day before and she didn’t want it to get worse. It was the first week in June, and the air was hot, but not as humid as it often was. In the shade of an umbrella, she was perfectly comfortable, and she ended up dozing off.

Eric was two chaises away. When she fell asleep, he was watching sports commentary on the television over the bar, but when she opened her eyes, he was looking at her, rather than at the TV.

“Oh, hi,” she said, straightening up and hoping she hadn’t been snoring or doing anything embarrassing. She patted her hair and pulled her cover-up down over her thighs. “Did you need anything?”

“No. I’m fine.”

“You should read. It would be more relaxing and entertaining than staring at sports all the time.”

“I don’t have the patience for reading.”

“You could listen to audiobooks. My mom and I used to do that all the time.”

“What about your dad?”

“He usually stuck to watching TV.” She paused, looking at Eric’s big, tanned body on the chaise. “Are you miserable, stuck being immobile like this?”

He shook his head. “The afternoons get long, but the rest of the time is fine. It’s not as bad as I thought it would be.”

She smiled, partly to herself. Spending these two weeks at the Outer Banks hadn’t really been her idea, and they were certainly not her responsibility, but she still couldn’t help but feel she’d done her part to get him here, and she didn’t want him to be miserable or bored.

“Are
you
bored?” he asked.

“Not really. I like to read, and I like to fish, and who doesn’t like hanging out by the beach or the pool? I’ve got no complaints.”

“Are you bored back in Charlotte?”

She gave him a little smile. “You make things interesting enough to keep boredom at bay.”

He smiled back, causing a warmth to wash over her. At least they were getting along. They might not have another passionate night together, but at least they could be friendly, at least he still let her into his life in some way.

“What would you be doing if you weren’t working for me?” he asked. He had a half-drunk beer beside him. She’d gotten him one after lunch, and he hadn’t even finished it. He wasn’t really a big drinker, unless something was bothering him deeply.

“I don’t know,” she said, telling him the truth. “I’d come to an ending, with my mother dying, so everything would have changed. But I’m not exactly sure what it would have looked like.”

“Would you go back and finish your PhD?”

“I don’t know. That would make the most sense, but it’s been so long now. It would be really hard to get the momentum back.”

“What momentum?”

“The energy. The thought processes. The depth of reading and thinking and writing I’d have to do. It’s really a different mindset, and it’s kind of hard to just put it on and off like that. Plus, it just seems like such a huge, painful enterprise. I don’t know if I would have gone back.”

“Why did you start the program to begin with?”

No one had ever asked her that before. The question gave her pause, as she searched for the real answer. “I used to look at my professors in college and say,
That’s the life I want
. I wanted to do what they did. The only way to do it is to get a PhD.”

“Do you still want to be a professor?”

“Y-yeah. I think so.”

“Then you should go back to graduate school.”

She stared at him, wondering how he could sound so matter-of-fact about something so hard.

He blinked. “Shouldn’t you? I mean, isn’t that the obvious way of getting to where you want to be?”

She gave a wry chuckle, the irony directed inward. “Yes. It’s the obvious way. But it’s not always that easy, you know.” After a pause, she added, “I used to daydream about myself as a professor. What I’d say, what I’d wear, what my daily schedule would be like.”

Eric was looking at her closely now. “Like the picnic daydreams?”

“Yes. A lot like that. A vision of myself I wanted but that I secretly knew would never happen.”

“But neither of those things are unattainable, are they? Surely you could go on a romantic picnic sometime in your life. And to get your PhD, all you need to do is finish your dissertation.”

“I’d need to start my dissertation. I never even started.”

“Okay, so you start it and then you finish it. You’re certainly capable of doing it. Why do you think it’s so impossible?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I really don’t know. It just always felt like a fantasy, and not who I really am. Neither of my parents even went to college.”

“How do you know who you are until you try? Back in college, when I was nothing but a jock, no one would have believed I could have had the vision for developing a successful game and building a whole franchise out of it. But I did. I had help, of course, but I did it. How do you know what you can do, if you never even try?”

“I don’t know.” She was self-conscious now, feeling like he’d put her on the spot and she had no good response, so she was ready to change the subject. “There’s no sense in worrying about it now, since I can’t do anything for another month and a half, until I’m done with you.”

“That’s not that long, you know,” he murmured, a new note in his voice she couldn’t interpret.

“I know. I know.”

One evening a few days later, Tim had gone downstairs and Eric and Julie were sitting together in the great room. There was a comfortable sectional sofa with an extended chaise on the end that was perfect for Eric to elevate his leg. Julie sat beside him, her feet propped up on an ottoman. She was trying to read, but she was having some trouble focusing. She was mostly just zoning out while Eric flipped between sports channels.

After about an hour, the constant flipping was starting to get on Julie’s nerves.

“Can’t you find one station to watch?” she asked.

He made a face and switched the channel again. “Nah. Everything gets boring after a while.”

She thought about that for a minute, realizing that even after more than a week of taking it easy, Eric still couldn’t really slow down his mind. “It probably gets boring because all you ever watch is sports.”

“That’s what I like.”

“I know, but surely you’d like to watch something else occasionally. What TV shows do you like?”

“I don’t really like anything else.”

She put down her e-reader and straightened up. “I don’t believe that. What shows did you used to watch when you were younger?”

His eyes were on the screen as he flipped back and forth between two stations. “I was never much into TV, except for games. I was always at practice or training or whatever.”

She’d never really thought about this part of his life before, and she was interested. “Really? Even as a kid?”

“Well, starting in high school. My whole life was football.” He turned his eyes toward her. “That’s the way it goes, if you have potential. At least, if you have my father.”

She tried to imagine having your life consumed by an activity like that, and she couldn’t begin to wrap her mind around it. “And you wanted it to be that way?”

“Of course.” His eyes had widened, and she could see he was telling the truth. “It’s all I ever wanted. To go pro.”

“And you did.”

“Yeah. For a little more than a year.”

“And was it everything you’d dreamed of?”

She expected him to say yes, since he seemed to be authentically pleased with his time playing football, but his expression changed just slightly and he glanced away from her.

“It wasn’t?” she prompted when he didn’t answer.

He sighed and met her eyes again. “It wasn’t like college ball. There was so much…flash, not as much substance. It was just…different.”

She was absolutely clueless about professional sports. She was pretty much clueless about sports in general. So she had no knowledge to bring to this conversation—just a deep interest in Eric himself. “Well, you got a lot of attention, didn’t you? From the press and everything?”

“Yeah.” He’d looked thoughtful, but now he gave her a little half smile. “Did you know who I was back then?”

“No. I didn’t pay any attention to football players. I wouldn’t have known you from Adam.”

“Oh.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Look at you—all disappointed because I didn’t know who you were. That’s quite an ego you have.”

“Maybe.” His brown eyes were warm and surprisingly soft. “But you like my ego, don’t you?”

“I like it when it’s contained to a manageable size.”

He chuckled. “What good is an ego if it’s contained?”

She was smiling too, and they shared a long look until she suddenly remembered there were certain feelings she needed to make sure didn’t get out of control. She turned away and stared at the television until she’d found her composure again.

“I guess it was really hard when you got that knee injury, then. When you had to stop playing football.” She was still interested in Eric and everything that made him tick. Surely she could ask him some questions while still maintaining the required emotional distance.

“I guess.” He sounded almost diffident.

Her eyes flew to his face. “It wasn’t hard?”

“It was. I mean, I was angry about it, and I was all twisted up about my dad dying. But I’d already been talking to my computer genius buddy about this game, and we decided to make a go of it. It took off so quickly that it filled the gap. I didn’t have time to be depressed.”

She mostly believed him, and it told her something about him she needed to know.

He hadn’t let himself grieve the loss of his football career—or even really his father. The loss and the injury that might have left him feeling powerless didn’t have a chance, because he’d poured himself into something else, something else he could excel at.

He’d spent his whole life doing that—using what might have been a loss and turning it instead into a gain. It had kept him successful and in control—just as his father had raised him—but it also meant he had absolutely no experience being genuinely helpless.

She couldn’t help but wonder what his daughter’s illness was doing to him—assuming he ever got to the point where he admitted that there was nothing he could do that would keep her alive.

“What?” he demanded, peering at her suspiciously.

“Nothing.” She smiled at him, quickly covering her tracks so he wouldn’t know she’d been thinking about him so intimately. “We were talking about TV and how you’re hopeless at focusing on anything.”

“There’s nothing worth focusing on.”

“That’s because you only ever watch sports.”

“Hey!” He feigned outrage, but it looked like he was hiding a smile.

She reached over and took the remote from his hand. “You need to learn to let go enough to concentrate on a good show, lose yourself in a story.”

“I’m not really into that.”

“That’s because you’ve never tried.” She switched over to a streaming channel and moved the cursor down to the row of television shows offered in their complete run. “Let’s try to find something to watch where you don’t flip around.”

“I always flip around.” He was reaching to take the remote back, but she held it out of his reach.

“I know you do. That’s what all these devices turn us into—always flipping, checking, switching back and forth. We have no attention span left at all. And the only cure is to keep our hands off.” She leaned over enough to grab his phone too and pull it away from him. “And learn to concentrate again.”

He made an exasperated noise, but he didn’t genuinely object, so she knew he was willing to humor her, at least for a little while.

“What about this one?”

“Never heard of it.” He frowned at the image on the screen. “What’s up with her hair?”

“She’s a spy and she wears a lot of wigs. I always liked this show. Let’s start from the beginning.”

“If this is some sort of chick—”

“It’s not a chick show. Not really. There’s a lot of action. Just give it a try.”

He sighed and leaned back against the couch, idly rubbing the top of his cast. “Fine. If it’s boring, though, we’re flipping back to sports.”

Julie was ridiculously pleased with herself, but then she got nervous that Eric really wouldn’t like it.

He began a steady commentary of dry comments and critiques, but after a half hour, she decided they were mostly intended to get a reaction out of her or make her laugh.

He was actually watching the show, and he didn’t object when she started the second episode immediately following the first.

Julie had forgotten a lot of the details, so she was able to get lost in the story again—and it was even more enjoyable now that Eric was getting into it with her.