Love's Last Chance (11 page)

He set up a chair in the shade, made an ice
pack, and handed her a beer.

“I’m starved. Who’s doing lunch today?” he
asked.

“Check with Drake. He’s got the schedule.
Just hope it isn’t Pierre.”

“Might have to check for arsenic.” John
chuckled.

As if on cue, Drake ran up the walk, sweat
pouring from his forehead. “What happened? What happened? Do we
need a helicopter to the hospital?”

“Calm down, Drake. I messed up my ankle a
little. It’ll be okay. What’s for lunch?”

“Your ankle? Your bad ankle? Damn.” He wiped
his face on a small towel around his neck.

John’s brow furrowed. “Will you be able to
do the movie?”

“I hope so.” She covered up her concern.
It’ll be okay. You can do it. You have to do it.

“So where’s the food?” John turned to
Drake.

“Hero’s at our place. Do you want me
to—”

“I’ll do it. Hungry, Dorrie?” John chimed in
before Drake could offer.

“Starved!”

“Good. I’ll be right back.” John and Drake
left, muttering about the past performances of the Mets and Yankees
and who had a radio to listen to the game.

Dorrie held the ice to her ankle, which had
started to swell. She sat back and smiled.
It hurts a little.
It’s swelling, but it’ll be okay. It has to. I’ll be able to do the
Central Park scene. I will.
Determination settled in her heart
as she sipped her beer and tried to relax.

* * * *

As soon as they were out of Dorrie’s
earshot, Drake turned to John.

“What is it with you two?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you going to break her heart again?
Because if you are…John…”

“Hey! She broke mine first.”

“That’s crap, and you know it. I know you
like to screw around. Why don’t you leave her alone?”

“You don’t know shit, Drake. So butt out.
This doesn’t concern you.” John frowned and looked away from his
friend.

“Maybe it does.”

“Oh? How?” John raised his eyebrows.

“Maybe there are other guys…more solid guys,
who want to be with her.”

“You, for instance? A married man? That’s
great. I’m sure she’ll jump at the chance.”

“If I could have Dorrie? I’d leave Chrissy
in a heartbeat.”

“What the hell? Nice to know you took your
commitment seriously.”

“I’ve always loved Dorrie. Up till now, she
only wanted you. Maybe it’ll be different this time.”

“Does Chrissy know?”

“She’s suspected there’s someone else.”

“Having a serious crush on Dorrie doesn’t
mean she returns the feeling. Does Dorrie know how you feel?”

“I made a pass once, five years ago. She
laughed, thought I was drunk—joking. I played along.”

“You haven’t said anything since then?”

“I haven’t seen her much since she broke her
engagement…she’s in New York then LA…you know.”

“So Dorrie’s not down with this?”

Drake shook his head.

“Buddy, I think you should back off. She’d
never go for breaking up a marriage.”

“And she’d prefer a prize womanizer like
you? A guy who can’t keep it in his pants?”

John stopped. His hand fisted at his sides.
“I’m not like that anymore.”

“Yeah? A leopard doesn’t change his
spots.”

“Have you told Chrissy?”

Drake shook his head.

“Don’t want to be there when that bomb goes
off. You’ve been married for four years, and still in love with
Dorrie?”

“If she gave me a chance, we’d be great.
We’ve been friends for a long time.”

“Don’t rock the boat. Stay with Chrissy and
let it go, man. Dorrie’s mine.”

They had arrived at the house. John cut two
generous pieces of the hero, wrapped them in paper towels, and
headed for the door. Drake grabbed his arm.

“If you hurt her, I’ll make you pay.”

“And who’ll
you
answer to when you
crush Chrissy and put Dorrie in the middle, where she doesn’t
belong?” John shook his friend’s hand off, pushed the screen door
open, and moved down the walkway.

Dorrie was asleep on the sofa when he
reached her. John put her sandwich on the coffee table. He eased
quietly into a chair and watched her sleep while he ate.
She’s
so sweet, so angelic asleep.
He chuckled to himself.
And a
wildcat when she’s awake!
She stirred and stretched. One eye
cracked open to stare at him.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Lunch.” He moved the
plate closer to her. She sat up, stretched again, and yawned.

“Thank you. Volleyball wore me out.” She
picked up her food.

I’d like to wear her out—in the
bedroom.
Johnny loved her vulnerable like this most of all. He
had tired of the super women, who could do everything better than a
man except grow a dick and made sure you knew it, or the opposite,
women who were totally incompetent and thought it was cute and
feminine to be stupid.

Dorrie was strong, but not so strong she
didn’t need anyone. She needed
him
. Or that’s what he wanted
to think. She was smart, talented, yet not overbearing. Here she
was about to make a movie and not rubbing everyone’s nose in it.
Not bragging. Dorrie never bragged.

The Dorrie he loved from five years earlier
had matured beautifully. Her body had filled out while her hard
times had made her compassionate. Her arrogant veneer from five
years ago had worn or broken off.
Maybe I’m just in love with
her, and she could be a monster and I wouldn’t see it.
He
stopped questioning and sat back in his chair, relaxed and
smiling.

“No more volleyball for you, young
lady.”

“Guess not. Board games…”

“Card games. I think we still have a gin
rummy competition going on.”

Dorrie bolted upright on the sofa. “Gin
rummy? Bring it on! I’m better than ever!”

John reached for the deck of cards sitting
on the end table.
Damn right you are.

“Still think you can beat me?”

“Think? You mean, know.” A gleam shone in
her eye as a broad smile stretched her lips.

“You wish.”

“Deal, buster. Put your cards where your
mouth is.” She took a bite of her sandwich.

He laughed as he shuffled the deck.

* * * *

Dorrie couldn’t believe how easily she and
Johnny fell back into their old ways. Teasing each other, being
volleyball teammates and competitors at cards made the weekend seem
like she’d stepped back in time. Although her pulse quickened when
her gaze met his and when she sneaked a peek at his broad shoulders
or cute butt, what made her heart melt was his protectiveness and
friendship.

The nagging voice of doubt in her head that
kept reminding her of his tomcat ways was getting drowned out. She
tried to keep her defenses up, but they slipped a little further
with each act of kindness.
I’m a sucker for a nice guy.

They played cards until the rest of the gang
returned from the beach. Then, it was cocktail time. The blender
was plugged in and frozen daiquiris of different sorts were whirled
together in increasing strengths. Stan brought a guitar over from
the men’s house, and people started to dance. Chrissy found Drake
and stayed glued to his side.

Dorrie lay back on the couch, her foot
elevated on the coffee table, and sipped a cool drink. Discussions
about the volleyball game and disagreements about the menu for
dinner broke through the hum of laughter and whispers, fighting
with the music for Dorrie’s attention.
Overwhelming noise, as
usual.
She smiled.
Some things don’t change.

She moved to stand up, John reached out his
hand. One grimace of pain until she got her bearings, and she was
able to walk with a limp to her room. “I’m going to read for a
while.”

“See ya later.” He leaned down and kissed
her cheek.

Dorrie lay down on her bed and closed the
door, but she was unable to concentrate on her book and didn’t feel
sleepy. Muted noise drifted in. Thoughts of Johnny raced through
her brain. Unable to form any definite conclusions about him, she
sighed.
Tonight at the party. I’ll know then.

The house would be filled with lots of women
and men from neighboring houses making the rounds of the parties
with the single crowd in Fair Harbor. She’d be watching Johnny like
a hawk to see if the rooster in him still strutted through the
henhouse. Dorrie finally drifted off to sleep.

Awakened by tantalizing smells of food
cooking, she pushed up slowly, testing her weight on her injured
ankle. One slight wince at a quick, sharp pain then the joint
seemed to hold. She shifted her weight to the other side and
returned to the living room. Chrissy and Bella were making a big
chicken stew to be served with rice. Simmering mushrooms, tomatoes,
and carrots created a heavenly aroma.

Dorrie showered then made two batches of
brownies. After putting them up to cool, there was a knock on the
door.

“Everybody decent?” a familiar voice called
out.

“Come in.”

“Damn, too bad.” Johnny entered shaking his
head.

Dorrie laughed. “Such a skin hound,
Flanagan.”

“Mind if I use your outdoor shower? Our
indoor
and
outdoor are busy.”

“Go ahead. The girls just finished.”

“Thanks.” He tucked his small bag under his
arm and went around to the back of the house.

God, Johnny naked in the outdoor
shower.
Dorrie began to sweat. Her heart rate increased.
Imagine being in there with him.
A vision of water running
through the hair and over the muscles of his chest and abs flashed
in her head. She closed her eyes and clung to the counter top as
her knees became weak.

Curiosity got the best of her, luring her
outside. She crept around the side of the house, walking
soundlessly in the sandy soil. She heard the water running, and
Johnny’s deep voice singing a tune she didn’t recognize. Then the
water went off. She was about to sneak away, but a sudden, sharp
pain in her ankle caused her to gasp.

She stopped and held her breath.
He
didn’t hear me, did he? Couldn’t have.
The door swung open and
a strong arm reached out, circling her waist. He pulled her into
the generous stall and shut the door. Losing her balance, Dorrie
fell sideways, down onto the wooden bench. Johnny stood, chuckling,
a towel fastened around his waist.

“Did you come back here to see me?”

She gulped and leaned down to rub her
ankle.

“Let me do that.” He knelt down on the sandy
grass and took her sandaled foot in his hands. His fingers worked
her muscles and tendons gently as his gaze traveled up slowly,
stopping at her eyes. She stared at his chest, still wet and
covered in a smattering of dark hair.

“You look really good in a towel.”

“I’ve been told I look even better without
it,” he whispered, then burst out laughing.

Dorrie covered her mouth with her hand to
muffle her guffaws.

“Johnny? You in there? You alone?” Mary
called out.

Dorrie held her finger to her lips, trying
not to giggle.

“Mary Manning, is that you? Are you
volunteering to come in here when you know I’m stark naked?”

“Didn’t say I wanted to come in…just wanted
to know…” she stammered.

“Why, Mary! I do believe you’re making a
pass at me!” he called out.

“No, no…I’m not, I’m just wondering…I mean,
I can’t find Dorrie…and…”

“Mary, shame on you! Let a man at least get
dressed before you pounce.” Johnny clapped both hands over his
mouth as he and Dorrie worked to swallow their hysteria. But they
were unsuccessful.

“Yeah, Mary. I’m in here. Eat your heart
out,” Dorrie yelled before giving in to a fit of giggling.

“Dorrie! You little slut!” But that’s all
they heard from Mary.

“It’s going to be all over in about thirty
minutes that you were having sex with me in here.”

“Is it?” Dorrie widened her eyes, feeling
bold, throwing him a suggestive look.
So let’s make it come
true. What am I thinking?

“Your reputation will be in shreds.” He
grinned.

“Will it? Dear me,” she clucked in mock
concern.

“What’s worse…you’re taking mine down with
you!” His eyes danced with mischief and Dorrie doubled over with
laughter.

When she could breathe, she squeaked out,
“What reputation? You don’t have one.”

“Yes, I do…all bad!” It was a few minutes
before they could start breathing normally again.

“Shoo, out you go. Let a man get dressed.”
Johnny opened the door to the shower and eased Dorrie out.

She stuck out her lower lip in a pout. “You
mean I can’t watch?”

He leaned over and kissed her. “Nope. Scoot.
If you don’t leave, I won’t be responsible for my actions,” he
said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Dorrie stopped in the doorway and closed her
fingers around his neck and pulled his face to hers, fastening her
mouth over his. Johnny clasped her to him, one arm circling her
waist while the other hand closed the shower room door.

Desire stirred Dorrie’s blood as she opened
her lips to him. Johnny plunged his tongue into her mouth,
capturing her, tasting her, demanding surrender. And she complied,
melting against him, the back of the door pressed into her, her
hands flattened against his chest, fingers digging slightly into
his hard muscle.

As forcefully as it began, it ended. Gasping
for air, Dorrie pulled back, her chest heaving. Johnny’s eyes were
filled with lust. He secured his drooping towel.

“I told you I couldn’t be responsible. Now
go.” He opened the door again, and this time, Dorrie made it
through. Johnny added a playful slap on her behind.

Testing her ankle, Dorrie found it to be
less painful. She walked carefully back into the house and plopped
down on the sofa.