Like Jazz (20 page)

“And you were right. I shouldn’t have said I’m not going to hurt you. What I should have said was: I’d never hurt you on purpose. It’s up to you whether I could ever get close enough to hurt you, but maybe it’s up to me to prove to you it’s a chance worth taking.”

I don’t know why I felt the need to say all that—not at that moment, anyway—and the extended silence on the line made me feel extremely exposed and not a little terrified. The words were out now and couldn’t be recalled. Fear crawled up my spine. I’d gone too far, too fast. Pushed too soon. Revealed too much.

When Sarah still said nothing, I laughed uneasily. “Isn’t this where you’re supposed to act like you didn’t hear me and say, ‘Cazz? Hello? Are you there? Cazz? Can you hear me?’”

Sarah chuckled softly. “Sorry. I heard you. I…I don’t know what to say. I got stuck on the part about ripping each other’s clothes off and had trouble concentrating on the rest.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. She could have left me to suffer with my anxiety, but instead she’d chosen to keep the lines of communication open by allowing a trace of flirtatiousness through.

“I’m kidding,” Sarah said. “I did hear you. I don’t want to hurt you either, but I don’t think I can give you what you’re asking.”

“I haven’t asked anything yet, but now that you mention it, I am going to ask for something.”

A few quiet moments elapsed and Sarah’s voice came across the line. “Hello? Cazz? Can you hear me?”

“Very funny, Perkins.”

Sarah chuckled again. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.” I heard her exhale. “Okay. Ask away.”

“Please don’t avoid me. That’s all I ask.”

She barked a laugh. “It’s funny you’d say that.”

“Why is that funny?”

In a low and sultry voice, Sarah replied, “I don’t think I can stay away.”

It was a dream, hearing those words, and suddenly I was floating from relief and happiness. I couldn’t think of anything to say except to thank God, when her voice came back over the line.

“Good night, Cazz.”

“Night, Sarah.”

I hit the button to end the call and set the phone down. I had to smile. She was still torturing me by not being with me, but at least she wasn’t tormenting me by letting me think she was with someone else.

Saturday morning—rather, later that morning—I awoke, consumed by thoughts of Sarah. I wanted to spend every waking hour with her (though I’d hardly mind the sleeping ones, too). On a whim, after my morning spin class, I called her around eleven.

She answered her mobile phone. “Hello?”

“I don’t suppose you’re free this fine afternoon?”

“My plans got cancelled an hour ago, unfortunately. Why?” She sounded a little down.

“And tonight?”

“Same.”

“What’s wrong? You sound bummed.”

“I am. I was supposed to do eighteen holes with the CEO of Pipeline Technologies but he sprained his wrist, and the other two from our foursome opted for a shorter day playing tennis instead.”

I pounced on the opportunity. “Perfect. I’ll pick you up at one.”

Silence on the line. Finally, Sarah spoke. “Cazz, I’m in a foul mood. I’ve been trying to get on this guy’s calendar for months. Pipeline donates one percent of its profits to foundations like ours, and I want Kindle Hope to be one of its three charity beneficiaries. Let’s do this another time.”

“Trust me, I have the perfect thing for you. One o’clock. Grab some lunch, and be sure to wear comfortable clothes and shoes. And sunscreen.” I hung up. If she truly wanted to be left alone to sulk, she’d call back and tell me. But the phone didn’t ring, and after several minutes of waiting, my ears lifted in a telltale sign of the huge grin on my face.

Sarah was ready to go when she opened the door at one. She wore a white, sleeveless blouse over low-rise, sycamore-colored chinos. With a matching cardigan tucked under her arm and her hair in a loose ponytail, she was adorable yet sexy. She locked the front door and followed me to my Toyota.

We didn’t speak much as we made our way down a blessedly traffic-free I-5. Sarah spent most of the drive with her eyes hidden behind sunglasses and her head against the headrest. It was a long drive, but rather than complain or require I reveal our destination, she seemed comfortable letting me lead. I exited on Disneyland Drive and continued until I found parking. Sarah took all this in and finally graced me with a smile, lifting herself out of her funk.

“It’s better at night, but it’s still fun during the day. You’ve been to the Downtown Disney District, right?” I asked.

“I have. I love it.”

“I thought we could wander around, shop, snack, whatever. And if you’re up for it, we could go on a few of the rides across the way.” I tried to read the appeal of that suggestion by her expression.

“Kind of expensive for an afternoon, isn’t it?”

I smiled sheepishly. “I splurged a few months back and bought an annual passport. And they were having a special when I bought it, so I have a free ticket.” I pulled the ticket out of my back pocket and handed it to her.

She didn’t take it, instead removing her purse from her shoulder and rifling through it. She extracted a card from her wallet. “I have one, too,” she said, and smiled as sheepishly as I had. “Guilty pleasure.”

“Favorites?” I returned the ticket to my pocket.

“Of course. You say one and I’ll say one.” She lifted her left eyebrow as the right side of her mouth curled up mischievously.

I felt like I was back in high school, but in a good way. “Space Mountain, obviously,” I said.

“Matterhorn,” she replied.

“Haunted Mansion.”

“Pirates!”

“Old school of me, I know, but those are my top four.” I shrugged.

“Mine, too.”

“Shop first, or ride first?”

“Shop, of course!” She laced her arm through mine at the elbow and started us down the lane.

The afternoon was perfect. We were like two kids, pointing and giggling, each occasionally eagerly pulling the other by the hand toward a destination of particular interest. We got lucky with the lines for our favorite rides and even went through Space Mountain twice using the FASTPASS system. We goofed around with Winnie the Pooh characters in Critter Country, enjoyed espresso and beignets in New Orleans Square, and shopped along Main Street USA. We even helped a lost child find her extremely worried parents.

Sarah had spotted the little girl crying outside Café Orleans after we left Pirates of the Caribbean. Sarah squatted next to her and asked if she was lost. The little girl nodded and rubbed her wet, red eyes with her knuckles.

“Would you like me to help you find your parents?” Sarah asked gently.

The girl, who was no more than six years old, shook her head and became more upset.

“No?” Sarah asked.

“I’m not…I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” the girl managed to say through her sobs.

I was standing next to Sarah, who glanced up at me briefly and smiled. “Your parents are very smart to tell you that,” she said. “We’ll stay right here out in the open and won’t go anywhere scary, okay?” The child nodded. “Let’s be friends so we’re no longer strangers. I’m Sarah. What’s your name?”

The girl’s staggered breathing made it hard for her to speak. “Em…Em…Emily.”

“Hi, Emily,” Sarah said. She waved me down and I crouched next to both of them. “Emily, this is my friend Cazz. Cazz, this is my friend Emily.”

I didn’t think Emily was up for a handshake, so I lightly and briefly touched her shoulder as I smiled. “Nice to meet you, Emily.”

Sarah attempted to make the child feel more at ease. “Cazz and I were talking about our favorite Disney characters, cuz that’s what friends do. Mine’s Cinderella. Who’s yours?” Sarah asked. I’d always admired Sarah’s ability to make people feel comfortable, and apparently she could do it for anyone of any age. How she managed to seamlessly insert the little white lie about us discussing our favorite characters, I’ll never know, but it worked wonders on Emily.

Emily looked at Sarah for reassurance, then to me, then back to Sarah. Then Emily pointed to me. “She is.”

Astonished, I glanced over my shoulder but no one was standing there. “Me?” I asked Emily, thinking she must be so distraught over being lost, she didn’t comprehend Sarah’s question.

She nodded. “Belle. From Beauty and the Beast,” she said in a more confident tone, proud of knowing her Disney characters. “’Cept your hair’s darker and your eyes are greener.”

I opened my mouth to speak but closed it and turned to Sarah for input, giving her a shrug and a look that told her I had no idea what to say or whom the girl was talking about.

Sarah smiled. “You’re right. Cazz is very pretty like Belle, and I promise she’s just as nice. Would it be okay if Cazz stayed here with you while I go find someone who can help us locate your parents? I promise I’ll be right back, and you can tell her all about Belle, okay?”

“Okay,” Emily said, appearing more relieved. She reached a hand out toward me. I took it and tried to relax by smiling at the child. I knew as much about kids as I did about this Belle character, whom I could only hope had more to her than dreams of fancy balls and handsome princes.

Sarah stood and I glanced up at her with a
thanks a lot
smirk before returning my focus to my small charge and getting the skinny on my animated double. A few minutes later, Sarah arrived with two harried-looking parents in tow. The mother scooped up Emily and lavished kisses on her cheeks, then extended a hand to me in gratitude. We said our good-byes and continued toward the Haunted Mansion.

“Thanks for leaving me with the kid,” I said dryly.

“She was smitten with you. It made sense for you to be the one to stay, Princess.” Sarah chuckled and gave me a light, teasing shove on my shoulder.

“I guess I do have at least one thing in common with Belle, from what Emily said.”

Sarah turned to me curiously as we walked side by side. She contemplated my comment for several moments before replying. “Oh, that’s right. She’s a voracious reader. You still a bibliophile?”

I shook my head. “That’s not what I meant.”

She stopped and was nearly run into by a petite brunette who was laser-focused on the Mark Twain Riverboat. Sarah called out an apology to the woman, who was so intent on her destination she didn’t acknowledge her. Sarah turned back to me with a raised eyebrow, waiting for my explanation.

I offered a playful smile. “Apparently, Belle fell for a beast, too.”

Sarah bit her bottom lip, trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile. We stared at each other for several moments, simultaneously reveling in the flirtation while trying not to crack up. We both broke at the same time, bursting into laughter. Sarah lightly smacked my upper arm and shook her head. With a grin, I threaded my elbow with hers and gently tugged her into the switchback queue at the ride’s entrance.

We even lucked out with the return freeway traffic on both I-5 and 101. As we neared Sarah’s exit, I glanced at her briefly and made a suggestion.

“I don’t suppose you’re hungry?”

“Starving. I was thinking of asking whether you wanted to grab a bite, but I thought you might be sick of me by now.” Her voice was teasing and animated.

I laughed. “Aside from your subjecting me to “It’s a Small World,” which hasn’t stopped playing in my head since we left that damned ride, I had a lot of fun today. You’ve been great company. Do you like Italian?”

“Love it.”

“Excellent. I know just the place.”

We only had to wait ten minutes for a table at Little Liguria, my favorite Italian restaurant in L.A. It was a small yet intimate establishment with red-and-white-checkered tablecloths, votive candles, paper napkins, and reddish-hued overhead lights that illuminated the tables in a sufficiently Goldilocks way: not too bright, not too dark. We got a table in the back and promptly ordered a half carafe of the house Chianti while we perused the menu.

Once we ordered, Sarah eyed me with curiosity. “I forgot to ask. How’d it go with Caitlin?”

I furrowed my eyebrows, wondering whom she was talking about. “Caitlin?”

“Blonde bombshell from last night. I assume she hit on you?”

I took a sip of wine and set my glass on the table. “Wow, that was last night? Feels like a long time ago already.” It didn’t seem possible that merely twenty-four hours ago I was in a hotel room kissing Sarah.

“You’re stalling.” She arched her eyebrow. “Not that it’s any of my business.”

I smiled. “Not that it
is
any of your business, but I’d say she was…tenacious.”

Sarah shifted uncomfortably in her chair and narrowed her eyes briefly before catching herself and relaxing her expression. She lifted her glass and replied before she took a sip. “She is beautiful.”

I nodded.

“And rich,” Sarah added.

“Even better. And I’m already in her debt, so maybe I’ll have to consider my…repayment options.” I enjoyed harmlessly toying with Sarah, pleased by the trace of jealousy in her body language.

“In her debt?” There was a slight edge in her tone as she set down her glass, waiting for an explanation.

“If it hadn’t been for her, I don’t think I’d have been accosted in a hotel room and subjected to the most amazing kisses of my life. I owe her big-time.” I pleasurably recalled my all-too-brief embraces with Sarah.

Sarah tilted her head, leaned slightly forward across the table with a quizzical expression, and searched my face as if assessing my sincerity. Then she sat back and momentarily bit her lower lip.

“You’re serious,” she said, seeming confounded. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

Our waiter chose that moment to bring us a small basket of freshly baked focaccia and a metal caddy holding olive oil and balsamic vinegar. “Ladies.” He interrupted us to set the items down.

Once he left, Sarah continued. “Make me not doubt you.”

I sat back and studied her with concern. “You say that like you’re surprised.”

She seemed to choose her response carefully. “I am.”

“Surprised? Surprised you can trust me?” A knot formed in my stomach, and I needed to make sure we were talking about the same thing.