Finished (21 page)

It was Mike and Julia as Drayton had represented them in his photographs. Only here, they were together in an undeniably powerful sculpture.

“Oh, God!” Julia breathed, covering her mouth with her hand as a pang of emotion shot sharply through her chest.

Mike saw it too. Understood it. He stood speechless and stared at the piece of art.

They hadn’t spoken to Drayton since the night in the house. He had obviously left town, abandoning all of the possessions he had in the city, including his Lexus and his father’s house. He’d told her, after all, that he couldn’t live the life he did unless he was willing to walk away from everything.

And that was what he’d done.

Losing him had been hard, no matter what he’d done to lead them to that point. And even now Julia sometimes still missed him, although the sharpness of the breaking had passed. She knew it hadn’t been easy for Mike either, after a friendship that had lasted more than a decade.

The memory of Drayton now was bittersweet, softened only by the knowledge that he hadn’t chosen against her after all. Plus, they were all better off now.

They’d had no idea Drayton was aware of their marriage, and they’d never dreamed of him giving them such a gift.

“There’s a note,” Mike said, breaking the long silence. He pulled a thick sheet of paper out of the box and started to read: “
All is well. The story goes on. D
.”

Julia remembered what Alexander Darrington had told her to explain the symbolic significance of six.
Six is incomplete, unfinished, never reaching the end, always one step away from conclusion.
That was the life Drayton wanted.

It wouldn’t have been what Julia wanted, but she was glad he was all right.

She glanced over at Mike and saw he was staring again at the sculpture.

“It’s amazing,” he said at last.

“So we can keep it?” She wasn’t sure and held her breath as she waited for his answer. The lines of bitterness were still ragged in Mike where Drayton was concerned, and she was always careful about how she handled anything concerning him.

“Yeah. Why not?”

She walked over to give him a brief hug, and together they gazed at Drayton’s sculpture—his visual representation of the two of them.

After a moment, she saw something else. Her breath hitched as she ran her hands along a curve in the marble beneath the male shoulder. “Look. Look at this!”

It was a Roman numeral, etched in the surface so faintly the casual observer would never notice it.

But Julia had seen it. A number, a symbol, Drayton’s final statement about who and what they were.

And she knew exactly what it meant.

She brushed a fingertip against the cool marble. “We are seven.”

***

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I felt strange being in the bar again, and I couldn’t help but glance around, on the off chance Josh was there. He lived just down the block, after all.

He wasn’t. It was ridiculous to assume he would be. Yes, he was the one who’d suggested the bar last time, but that didn’t mean he hung out here all the time.

Even if he did, it wasn’t like anything else was going to happen between us. It was clearly a one-time thing—fueled by grief, restlessness, and something lost.

I hadn’t heard from him since. Of course, I hadn’t. And naturally I hadn’t made any attempt to contact him either.

He was young and good-looking and smart and sexy. He had a good job and he was single and he was straight. Women were no doubt falling all over him all the time—much younger, prettier, and more interesting women than me.

One thing I wasn’t going to do was make a fool of myself over a man. I’d done that plenty of times in my twenties, and a couple of times in my thirties too. I wasn’t going to do it again.

I felt briefly stupid as I realized I was searching the bar for one handsome face and pair of broad shoulders, so I immediately stopped.

“I think the guy in the corner there is into you, Leslie,” Jo said. She was what my mother would have called a “comfortable-looking” woman in her forties. She had a husband and two kids who were both in college now.

Automatically, I turned to see who she referred to. He looked to be about seventy and was wearing a leather jacket, despite the warm night.

He gave me a half-hearted leer.

I turned back to glare at Jo, who had burst into laughter. I tried to maintain my glare when Donna started giggling too.

Donna was thirty-two, and she seemed to always have a boyfriend. She’d made a point of not making plans tonight, though, so she could come out with us.

“Age shouldn’t matter,” Jo said primly. “You never know.”

“Right. He’s a real catch.” I felt kind of silly about the kick in my heart when I’d turned to look, since my mind had immediately flown to Josh.

What the hell was wrong with me? I knew better than to hope for something like that.

“So there’s no one you’re interested in?” Donna asked.

I shook my head. “I’ve dated everyone I know who I could be remotely interested in, and I never meet anyone else.”

It wasn’t exactly true, but it was mostly true. And I wasn’t going to tell anyone about my intense one-night stand. Talking about it would somehow take the power out of it. It would have to remain private.

“Well, you might meet someone if you’d get out there a little,” Donna said. “If all you do is go to work and stay home, of course you’re not going to meet anyone.”

I knew that was true. I’d tried dating sites before, which was how I’d met most of the men I’d gone out with in the last several years. But those were exhausting and kind of depressing—since they turned up men with the same issues as all the other men I’d ever known. Either they didn’t want me or I didn’t want them, so I’d eventually given up looking.

It wasn’t like my life was bad. My job was good. My apartment was good. My friends were good. My family was good.

And Polly had been good.

I made myself not think about her.

“Now,
there
’s a good-looking guy,” Jo said, in a different tone.

I looked. Naturally, I looked. Just like any woman would have looked at the promise of a good-looking guy.

It was Josh. He’d just walked in. He must have come right off of work, since he was wearing khakis and a dress shirt, the same thing he’d worn when I’d seen him at the vet’s office before. He was alone, and he obviously knew the bartender, since they were talking as he took a stool at the bar.

He accepted the beer the bartender handed him and sipped it as he watched the game on the television above the bar.

He obviously hadn’t noticed me. He seemed relaxed, like he came here often after work to unwind.

I turned back to Donna and Jo and saw they both were watching me.

“What?” I demanded, feeling self-conscious. Surely they couldn’t tell I’d fucked him three weeks ago, not from nothing more than my expression.

“He’s good-looking, isn’t he?” Donna asked.

“Yeah. I know him, actually. He’s a new vet at the one I go to…went to.”

“Oh.” Jo looked excited. “Well, go over and talk to him.”

“I’m not going to talk to him. I don’t know him that well.” It was true, and I felt ridiculously awkward—almost shy—at the idea of running into him again.

“He’s seen you,” Donna said, giving a discreet look over to the bar. “Leslie, he’s seen you.”

I hesitated just a moment before I turned back toward the bar.

He had indeed seen me. His eyes were resting on me, over the beer he was bringing to his mouth. He wasn’t smiling, and I couldn’t really understand his expression.

But, when our eyes met, he nodded. In acknowledgement of my presence, I assumed.

I nodded back. Then hurriedly turned toward my friends again, my cheeks feeling suddenly warm.

“Why can’t you even smile at him?” Jo complained, rolling her eyes at me disapprovingly. “He’s going to assume you’re not interested.”

“He didn’t smile at me.”

“I think he was waiting to see what you would do.”

I felt stupid and clueless and like a fucking teenager, and I didn’t like feeling that way. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s too good-looking for me. Plus, he’s too young.”

Jo had been studying Josh, and not even trying to be discreet. “I don’t think he’s that young. A few years doesn’t make a difference once you’re over thirty. And what do you mean he’s too good-looking for you? You’re beautiful.”

“I am not beautiful.”

“Yes, you are. I think he’s interested. He keeps glancing over here.”

I was dying to turn and look again, but I resisted the impulse. I was a grown-up woman. I wasn’t in high school anymore. I shouldn’t feel so fluttery and uncertain at the appearance of a random guy. “Would you all stop looking at him? He’s going to think we’re talking about him.”

“We
are
talking about him.” Donna grinned at me. “We need more beers, so go over and get them for us, will you?”

“Donna.”

“I’m serious. Go get us more beers. Just say hello. If you know him, it’s perfectly polite. It would be more strange not to even talk to him.”

She was right. I should have smiled and waved when I first saw him. Now, the whole thing felt weird. But they weren’t going to leave me alone until I went up to the bar, so I stifled my nerves and got to my feet.

I was still wearing work clothes—a pencil skirt and simple top—so at least I looked pretty good. My legs were good, anyway. He watched me as I approached, and I saw his eyes give me a once-over, lingering briefly on my legs.

I stood next to the stool on which he sat and asked the bartender for more beers.

Then I turned my head to look at Josh.

There was a smile in his eyes and in the slightest tilt of his lips. “Did you tell your friends we had sex?” he murmured.

“No. They just think you’re interested in me.” I felt better, less nervous, because he’d brought the topic up right away. It didn’t feel so strange and tense if you just talked about it.

“Ah. Well, they’re not wrong.”

I blinked in surprise, wondering if he was really coming on to me again.

The smile warmed in his expression as his eyes caressed my face. “I still really like your freckles.”

I laughed softly but felt ridiculously self-conscious, so I ducked my head, hiding some of my face with my hair. I tried to think of something clever or flirtatious to say, but could come up with absolutely nothing.

“The truth is,” he continued, in a different tone, “I’m not in the market for a serious relationship.”

I lifted my head. “What?”

“I want to come onto you again. I’m dying to come onto you. But I want to be upfront about things. I don’t do serious relationships. That’s not a possibility.”

I couldn’t believe he was telling me this so openly, so unabashedly. It was oddly refreshing and, at the same time, made my heart start to race.

He leaned in closer so his mouth was next to my ear. His murmur had gotten thicker, sexier. “You turn me on just standing there. I want to fuck you again. I want to make you come harder than you’ve ever come before. But that’s all it would be. If you want hot sex with no-strings, then I’m your man. But if you want something serious, then you should just walk away.”

I was speechless. Hot all over my body and
speechless
. I had no idea what I would say, even if I could get my voice to work.

Josh took another swallow of his beer, his lips somehow sensual against the glass, giving me thoughts I definitely shouldn’t have.

I turned my head and stared at the three beers the bartender had set in front of me.

“I’ll be here for a while,” Josh said, with a smile that was almost smug, as if he knew the effect he’d had on me. “Just think about it.”

I still couldn’t say anything, so I took the beers and returned to the table, my mind reeling with what had just happened.

I’d always wanted a serious, stable relationship. Every time I started dating, that was the ultimate end point I’d had in mind. Whenever a relationship stopped being a possibility for a serious future, for whatever reason, I’d ended it.

I wasn’t at the point in my life where hot sex with no strings was something I’d be looking for.

But for some reason I was tempted. Really, really tempted.

I wanted to be the kind of woman who might do something like that.

“That looked like it went well,” Donna said, when I sat down again. “He’s definitely into you. Are you going to see him again?”

“Maybe.” There was no way I was going to explain that he’d just invited me to have hot sex with him—and nothing else. I could hardly wrap my mind around it.

“You can ditch us if you want,” Jo said. “Seriously. We won’t be offended.”

“I’m not going to ditch you. If anything happens, it will be later. Now drop the subject.”

As we drank our beers and chatted, my eyes would occasionally drift over to Josh. When our gazes met, I could see exactly what he was thinking. There was a promise in his eyes—of the good time he could give me.

The question was whether I wanted that kind of good time, if it would never lead to anything else.

Giving up the hope for a serious relationship would be a regret.

Of course, turning down Josh’s offer might also be a regret.

I was torn and confused and increasingly hot. Eventually, I was annoyed with Josh for just handing the whole thing over to me.

If he’d really come onto me, I definitely would have responded. Then I wouldn’t have had to think about it so much—just reciprocate his advances. But, this way, I had to be the one to make a real decision and then come back to him. Or not.

I’d never approached a man and told him I wanted sex in my life. It simply wasn’t something I did.

I’d come no further in making a decision when our beers were done and Donna and Jo were ready to leave. Josh was still at the bar, watching the game.

I knew he was waiting for me.

If I went back to him, he would take me home.

If I left the bar, he would know my answer was “no.”

The easy thing to do was just to leave. Since I still didn’t know what it was I should do, that was what ended up happening. Donna and Jo got up to leave, so I had to too. They headed for the door, so I went with them.

I glanced over at Josh before I left the bar, and I saw he’d turned his head to watch me go.

He didn’t smile or look disappointed or anything really. But there was a recognition on his face. That I’d made my decision. That I needed more than he could offer me. That hot sex wasn’t enough.

I hadn’t made a decision. It was just getting made for me, because I couldn’t seem to take an intentional step.

I’d lived a lot of my life like that. Letting decisions happen, falling into circumstances, since they seemed to be the ones that happened. As I stood on the sidewalk outside the bar, I realized I didn’t want to keep living that way.

There might be regrets with both decisions, but making a real decision was better than just letting things happen to me.

“You all go on,” I said, as Donna and Jo started down the sidewalk. “I’m heading back to the bar.”

They both looked surprised. And then excited. They obviously knew why I was going back.

They might not know it was for a night of hot sex, but they knew it was for Josh.

So I said goodbye and headed back inside. I nearly plowed into Josh in the doorway. He was just leaving.

“Leslie,” he said in obvious surprise.

“Oh. Sorry. Hi.” God, I was an idiot.

“Were you coming back in?” he asked, his blue eyes searching my face in the streetlights.

“Yeah.” I looked down and then up again, telling myself that he had made the invitation so there was nothing to be embarrassed about.

He leaned in a little closer. “Did you change your mind?”

“Yeah.” I straightened my shoulders and met his eyes. He was a couple of inches taller than me. Since I was pretty tall, this wasn’t always the case with guys. I liked that I had to look up at him.

“You’re sure? About the no-strings thing?”

“Yeah. I’m sure. As long as you were serious about making me come harder than I’ve ever come before.” I couldn’t believe I’d actually said that out loud. Someone else must have said that.

He smiled. Hotly. Smugly. “I was serious.”

“You were talking pretty dirty in there,” I said, feeling less uncertain as an uncharacteristic wildness seemed to possess me. “Do you always talk that way?”

He lifted a hand to stroke this thumb over my cheekbone, the way he’d done a few weeks ago when he was talking about my freckles. Then he leaned down, like he would kiss me. But he said in my ear instead, “I can talk as dirty as you want.”

***

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