EXCERPT

 

Chapter One

 

“And then her father walked in.”

Jill’s eyes went wide and she had to press her fingers to her lips to keep from spitting coffee all over JD’s dress shirt. With some effort she swallowed, then allowed the laughter she’d been holding inside to bubble out.

He watched her over the rim of his own mug, his blue eyes grinning at her, mischief glittering like sunlight dancing on a cool mountain lake. A cool lake that despite its glossy surface was too deep, and held far too many secrets. Sometimes, beyond the sparkle she could sense a sadness—a mystery that, like the haunting outline of a shipwreck far below the surface, she could barely see, let alone touch. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t real.

She shook her head, telling herself silently to stop thinking like a melodramatic fool even as she scowled at him. “You did that on purpose. You timed your punch line with my sipping schedule.”

He touched two fingers to the center of his chest, mouthed the words, Who me? and batted his thick, stubby lashes.

She set down her mug and ran her finger through the bit of whipped cream that remained from their shared dessert. Slowly and, she hoped, provocatively, she sucked her finger clean.

“Uh-huh. You just finished telling me about how you deflowered the minister’s daughter in her own house, right under her father’s nose. Innocent fits you like a thong fits John Candy.”

“Ouch.” He shuddered and pushed the plate to the side. “There’s an image I didn’t need.”

“Payback’s a bitch, ain’t it?” She traced the rim of her mug. “So are you going to fill in the blanks? Tell me how you got away from a rifle-toting southern-Baptist minister hell-bent on making an honest woman out of his daughter?”

“Next time,” he said with a wicked grin. “Gotta keep you interested. Give you a reason to keep coming back.”

She rolled her eyes. “As if I don’t have a couple dozen already. You just love stacking the deck, JD.”

“Maybe I do, at that.” He winked, touching her hand absently before reaching for the check the waitress had set down a few moments earlier. Jill had always loved his hands. He wasn’t a huge man, barely scraping the underside of six feet, but his hands were broad and strong.

She tried to beat him to the bill but he snatched it away.

She growled low in her throat. “Next time. It’s my turn next time.”

He examined the check. “You’re just bound and determined to prick a hole in my delicate male ego, aren’t you?”

She rolled her eyes. “Your ego’s about as delicate as my grandmother’s underwear.”

He laughed aloud, slapped down a credit card. “What is it with you and underwear today?”

She shrugged. “Maybe I’m hung up on it today because…I’m not wearing any.”

He arched one meaningful eyebrow. “Is that supposed to tempt me?”

Another shrug and a sassy half-smile got her message across.

“I see.” He cleared his throat, smiled at the waitress who picked up the bill and credit card.

She blushed as she walked away. JD had that effect on women. It didn’t seem to matter where they went or who they encountered, universally women felt drawn to him. Being the one on his arm always made Jill feel special. Special because he’d chosen her, and because he’d told her she was the closest female friend he’d ever had.

Unfortunately that was all they were. All they could ever be. He’d been very clear on that fact, and she’d accepted it. But that didn’t mean she’d been able to stop herself from wanting. And the sexual teasing that was invariably part of their banter did nothing to curb her desires.

The thing was there were times when she doubted his commitment. Sometimes when he looked at her she saw something in his expression, something smoldering in his eyes—something very much like desire. So sometimes she pushed the envelope, wondering if he was as averse to pursuing a sexual relationship as he led her to believe.

“So, it didn’t work,” she said on a sigh. “It didn’t tempt you?”

“I didn’t say that.”

She studied him, fixed him with an appraising stare, but when he didn’t elaborate, ran her fingers through the long, dark blonde hair that hung loosely about her shoulders before leaning forward and bracing her elbows on the table.

She blew out a long-suffering sigh. “JD Devine, you are the most confusing, irritating, frustrating—”

“Fascinating and enigmatic man you’ve ever met.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but quickly closed it. She had to laugh again. He knew her so well. They knew each other so well. Add in a dose of trust and a dash of respect and it all added up to one hell of a friendship. One worth celebrating.

As if reading her thoughts, he raised his wine glass that had no more than two swallows left and motioned for her to do the same. “And that’s exactly why you’ve put up with me for the last two years.”

She smiled, conceding the point as she lifted her glass. “Two years today.” She touched it to his and as the echo of clinking glass faded and the last of the wine slid down her throat she was overcome by a wave of nostalgia. “It’s been a good two years, JD.”

“I think maybe you’re forgetting a few months here and there, babe.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Good and bad, confusion and frustration, laughter and anger—I’ve enjoyed it all. I wouldn’t trade a moment of it.”

To her surprise he reached out to stroke a finger down her cheek. “Neither would I, sweetie. Neither would I.” He swallowed, sat back in his chair and once again she saw that glimmer of something in his eyes.

She met his gaze, held it—felt her gut tighten. But the waitress arrived with his credit slip and the moment evaporated like a breath of mist.

He filled in a generous tip and signed his name with an efficient flare. He glanced at his watch. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid our time’s up.”

On impulse she reached out and grasped his wrist.

He gave her a questioning look.

She didn’t relinquish her hold. “Before we go, can you tell me something?”

“Shoot.”

“Why did you answer that email two years ago?”

 

JD stared at her, digesting the question. Why? In a moment a hundred things rushed through his mind. In a heartbeat his thoughts traveled back over the years to the day he was tipped back on his heels by an email that had been mis-addressed by one simple keystroke. An email that he should have ignored, but had been unable to. An email that had changed his life—and his heart—irrevocably. He’d kept that email far longer than he normally kept any personal correspondence. And even now could recall it word for word…

 

Hey Jerry,

Wow. You tempt me. You really do. A dozen calla lilies? And barely a week after you tell me we’ve grown apart and our priorities “don’t mesh”. What happened, Jerry? Already tired of eating takeout and ironing your own underwear? Not that it matters, particularly. After a week on my own, I finally realized that you were absolutely right. I can say without any trace of irony that I owe you for this one, Jerry. Here you thought you were bullshitting me into believing you weren’t just running scared, when in actuality you spoke the unvarnished truth. We have grown apart, and I just hadn’t realized it.

I deserve better. I deserve a man who puts me first sometimes. A man who treats me with love and respect. A man who wants to talk to me, who isn’t intimidated if I want to talk about world politics or the more enigmatic points of life and love. A man who can do more than grunt and watch hockey, who knows how to be my friend. A man who knows what passion is. A man with dreams.

I have dreams, Jerry, and they don’t include you. Not anymore. I like being on my own. This last week was the best seven days I’ve spent in three years. And I have you to thank for it.

So, goodbye and good luck. I hope the Leafs win a thousand Stanley Cups and you’re glued to your recliner for every one of them. As for me, I’ll be out in the world—living.

No longer yours,

Jill

 

“JD?”

He blinked, dragging himself back to the present. “I think you’ve asked me that before.”

“Yes, I have. But you’ve never really answered me.”

“Sure I have. I told you it was because I had to make sure dear Jerry got to see that masterpiece. And of course there was the ‘ironing your underwear’ comment.”

She let go of his hand and crossed her arms across that perfect little chest. “That’s right. You said that fascinated you, made you laugh. But I told you, that was a typo. I meant to write shirts.”

“Sure you did.”

Suddenly, gold-tinted lips set in a grim line but brown eyes laughing, she leaned forward and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. “You’re not leaving until you answer me, dammit.”

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