Just About Sex (12 page)

Simone’s heart had skidded to a stop long before she got to the signature line. Astonished, she rubbed her bleary eyes and read it again just to make sure she’d seen correctly. She had.

Thoroughly flustered now, she jumped to her feet, paced the length of the upper level twice, then collapsed in her chair and read the e-mail a third time. Her pulse went haywire.

“Oh, God.” She pressed her trembling hand to the center of her chest, but her heart rate wouldn’t go back to normal.

Greene had written this, of course. Who else could it be? But why would he do it? As a joke? No. Remembering the heat and vulnerability in his eyes this afternoon when he asked her to have dinner with him, she knew he’d never joke about something like this.

What should she do? Delete it?

Yes. That made the most sense. Greene declared himself her enemy the first day they met, and they’d never be anything else. Right this very second, he was running a blog that could seriously damage her career.

She was
us
and he was
them;
he was Doc Oc to her Spider-Man, and nothing could change. They’d drawn their lines in the sand. Why blur them with e-mails and mixed messages?

But when she reached for the mouse to click
delete,
her stubborn fingers refused to cooperate. Worse, they flew across the keyboard, forming an answer she hadn’t even known she’d thought up.

As she often did while working on her column, she lapsed into The Zone, that wonderful place where the words appearing on the screen perfectly matched the way she felt inside. When she’d finished, she didn’t give herself the chance to reconsider. For the first time in her Web site’s existence, she posted her column six days early.

Then she went off to bed, relaxed and ready to sleep.

Alex sat on the bench watching happy, shrieking children of various shapes and sizes swarm around the playground like bees around a hive. Some swung on the tire swings, some hung upside down on the monkey bars. One young maniac climbed up the steep slide, then jumped from the top of the steps while his frazzled mother ineffectually yelled for him to be careful.

Birds sang, pansies bloomed in nearby pots, the sun shone and the bright sky was the prettiest blue he’d ever seen. He inhaled the balmy breeze, leaned back on the bench and crossed an ankle over his knee.

He felt as light and carefree as these noisy children, and he’d run and play right along with them if he wasn’t wearing his best khaki suit. It didn’t even matter that he was about to conduct his second audit and was, therefore, likely to have his ego flattened again in the next few minutes.

The reason for his ridiculous happiness sat comfortably in his breast pocket, where he’d carried it for days. Scanning the playground again, he saw no sign of Tina, so he pulled out the folded and tattered piece of paper, even though he’d pretty much memorized the words by now.

Dear “Al G.”:

Don’t be too hard on yourself. People make bad first impressions all the time. And I wouldn’t be at all surprised if the woman’s opinion of you is more favorable than you think. You mention you are “gruff” and have “rough edges.” I wonder what would happen if you eased off a little and got to know the woman better, with no pressure about taking the relationship to the next level? Some women are inherently cautious and like to take things slowly, especially if they think all a man wants is sex. Ask her about herself and listen. A man who is patient and a good listener is already special in my book. So many women think a man with money is special, but would you really want to be with someone who only wanted you for your bank account? Also, open up about yourself. Tell her about your hopes and dreams, and what’s important in your life. Maybe you’ll both discover you have a lot in common.

Of course trust is very important. Can she trust you?

I’ve read your letter carefully and you certainly seem like a nice person. If the woman you mentioned is important to you, don’t give up on her just yet. Once she gets to know you, she may discover she likes you very well after all. Good luck and let me know how it turns out.

—Dr. Simone

Something strange, warm and exciting bloomed in his chest as he carefully refolded the letter and put it back in his pocket.

After analyzing and reanalyzing the letter, after viewing the situation from every possible angle, even after factoring in his foolish bias and complete inability to think rationally where Simone was concerned, he’d come to one inescapable conclusion and its corollary: Simone knew he’d written the letter
and
she wanted him to pursue her.

She’d told him what she wanted and had done everything but draw him a map showing him how to get closer to her. Trust was still an issue, but all was not lost. He couldn’t believe his astounding good fortune; maybe he should make a quick trip south to River Downs and play the horses while his luck held.

Did this mean she’d say
yes
when he asked her out again? Should he call her? He didn’t want to test whatever goodwill she felt toward him too much. Tomorrow he’d see her again for another subcommittee meeting and he supposed he could wait, although tomorrow seemed like a million years—

“Alex!”

Looking over his shoulder, Alex saw Tina hurrying down the sidewalk toward him, pushing a jogging stroller. She smiled and waved. Standing, he waved back and watched while she came closer.

Her straight black hair, which fell over her shoulders, was longer than before, but otherwise she looked the same as she had two years ago, when he last saw her. Well, maybe a little heavier—from what he could see her pink warm-up pants were tight across the belly and thighs and her face was fuller—but of course she’d just had a baby.

Dark smudges under her dark eyes marred her smooth brown skin—she probably wasn’t getting any sleep these days—but she radiated some serene inner light he’d never seen before.

She pushed the stroller off to the side. “Hii-iii!” she cried, throwing her arms around him and kissing his cheek. “How are you? I was so surprised to hear from you!”

Alex held her for a minute, feeling the faint pain of nostalgia. Her hair smelled just the same—almond butter, she’d told him once. They’d had some good times together, and he remembered them all now.

Pulling away, he grinned down at her. “You look good. Being a mother agrees with you.”

She scrunched her face and pressed a hand to her stomach. “I’m fat.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” He turned to the stroller. “Let’s see this little guy.”

Beaming like the sun, Tina bent over the small wrinkled figure wrapped in what looked like a dozen fuzzy blue blankets. Pulling the linens aside, she revealed her son’s sleeping face. A downy layer of wispy black hair covered his head. Feeling the breeze on his face—this poor guy probably didn’t get much air with all those blankets covering him—the baby stirred, cooing softly. Tiny fists moved on either side of his head.

“This is William,” Tina told Alex.

“William,” he echoed, feeling a strange, tight pang in his chest.

He’d never given babies much thought, but this one was clearly exceptional. Some unseen force made him touch the baby’s satiny cheek, then offer his index finger. William obligingly grabbed it and held on tight. Alex’s pang grew.

“He’s beautiful,” he said, meaning it.

Tina replaced William’s blanket, then sank to the bench, smiling a soft, content mother’s smile. “I know.”

Alex settled next to her, his eyes still on the baby. “How’ve you been?”

“Good.”

“How’s married life?”

“Wonderful.”

Alex felt a vague ripple of annoyance. Married people always hyped the institution, as if it was their solemn responsibility to drag as many people as possible into matrimony with them.

“Doesn’t he leave his socks on the floor and the toilet seats up?” he asked irritably, compelled to make her admit everything could not possibly be
that
good.

She laughed. “Yeah. But it’s still wonderful.”

Alex stared at her shining face, unwillingly intrigued. “What’s so great about it?”

Her smile widened with what looked like exasperation and, he hoped, a little affection. “Some things never change, do they? You’re still such a strange bird, Alex!”

His heart fell a little, but he smiled gamely anyway. “Why’s that?”

“You just always blurt out whatever you think.” She shrugged, her smile almost regretful now. “You always march to the beat of your own drum, and I could never hear it.”

Alex snorted. “I don’t think anyone can.”

“Why did you want to meet with me?”

He looked away. Across the playground, a girl with flapping blond braids fell on the mulch and sat wailing while her mother rushed up to inspect her skinned knee.

“I’ve been thinking a lot. About relationships.” He shot her a sidelong glance. “I watched
When Harry Met Sally.
”

“Oh, good grief.” Laughing again, she smacked a hand to her forehead. “I never faked it, if that’s what this is about.”

“So I was good?”

“Technically, yes.”

He whipped his head back around to face her, all good humor vanishing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well…” she said, leaning her elbow on the back of the bench. “Permission to speak freely?”

“Speak,” he barked.

“Alex, you were good at
sex,
not
making love.
And we never made love because you never let me in. We dated for a year and I didn’t know you any better on day three hundred sixty-five than I did on day one.”

“Wha—?”

She held up her hand, ticking points off on her fingers. “You never wanted to talk about your childhood—not about your stutter or your parents’ divorce. I don’t think anyone could ever understand you without understanding how those things affected you. You never talked about what it’s like to be so smart—to graduate from high school when you’re sixteen. To get a five-year degree in three years.”

Understanding finally began to pierce through his thick skull. He stopped trying to interrupt and listened intently.

Tina was up to a third finger. “You never tried to get to know me. Not really. You never put in more than the bare minimum effort to keep the relationship going.”

That rueful smile crossed her lips again. “That’s why I broke up with you. I knew we’d never get anywhere as a couple. And I was tired of trying.”

Tina fell quiet and they watched the playing children.

“I broke your heart,” he said after a while.

She rearranged the baby’s blankets and wouldn’t look at him. It didn’t matter. They both knew the answer.

Of all the women’s dreams he’d wrecked, Tina’s bothered him the most. It was a sobering feeling, realizing he’d failed so badly at something when he always prided himself on being the best at whatever he tried.

“I’m sorry,” he told her.

Tina fished a tissue out of her pocket, dabbed her eyes with it and gave him a watery smile. “Don’t be. I’m where I’m supposed to be now, thanks to you.”

Without conscious thought, he reached out and cupped her smooth cheek in his palm. Tina was a good, happy person. Maybe if he touched her, some of what she had would rub off on him.

“Is there any hope for me?” he wondered.

Laughing, she put her hand on top of his. “Well, let me put it like this. The Alex I dated would never think of asking questions like this. So it looks like you’ve changed quite a bit already.” Mischief appeared in her eyes. “Now let me ask you a question—is this all because of a woman?”

A sheepish flush crept up his neck and over his ears. Saying it aloud gave power to the words, but what was the point of pretending? “Yes.”

To his pained astonishment, she pressed a hand to her chest and shrank back, as if someone had shot her through the heart with an arrow.

“Wow.” She looked away, blinking furiously.

Alex was flabbergasted. Never in a million years would he have thought she’d care if he got involved with someone else, much less be upset. “Tina—”

She laughed, a weird choking sound that did nothing to reassure him. He reached for her but she flapped a hand, brushing him away.

“Ignore me,” she told him. “My hormones are out of whack.”

“You’re allowed.”

“I thought I was ready to hear that you’d fallen in love with someone, but I guess—”

“Hold up,” he cried. It was time to put the brakes on this whole crazy conversation, before it ran off in a direction he didn’t want to go. He put love in the same category as diarrhea: he didn’t want it, didn’t need it, and certainly wasn’t going to talk about it. “No one said anything about—”

But Tina wasn’t listening. “Tell her for me,” she began hoarsely, then, choked up, stopped to clear her throat.

Alex kept quiet and waited, wishing a meteor would fall from the sky and incinerate him so he wouldn’t have to live through this awkward scene.

Tina swiped her eyes and then started over. “Tell her for me that she’s a very lucky woman.”

Floored, Alex opened his arms for her. With a little cry, she scooted closer, rested her head on his chest and let him hold her tight.

Chapter 11

T
he next day, at ten-fifty, right before her last appointment of the morning, Freddie hurried into Simone’s office. “You’ve got a phone call.”

Simone looked up from the letter she’d been signing. Freddie’s beaming face and gleeful tone made her wonder if it wasn’t Oprah calling to tell her she’d chosen
Sextasy
as her next book club selection. “Well, who is it?”

His smile widened. “Alex Greene.”

Simone’s stomach did a crazy somersault. Dropping her pen, she stared at her multi-buttoned black desk phone and desperately wondered what she should do.

Any communication with Greene, even a phone call, seemed like an undertaking of monumental importance. At lunchtime, they were scheduled to go to the gardens, sample various menu items for the auction and choose what they wanted. But maybe he’d called to cancel. Her stomach did another odd flop at
that
thought.