Nobody's Fool (2 page)

From the vicinity of the back porch she heard voices. Her parents and others. Had her mother planned a surprise party? She crossed the living room to the kitchen and opened the back door.

“Jolie! I didn’t hear you come in.” Sue-Ellen Kramer popped out of her seat and embraced her daughter. Jolie was aware of the others assembled, but for the moment she closed her eyes and returned her mother’s hug, breathing in Estee Lauder’s Youth Dew mixed with Suave hair spray.

“Hi, Mom,” she managed to choke out, suddenly filled with emotion.

When her mother let go, her father Martin took his turn, holding himself a bit awkwardly and patting her shoulder as he always did.

“Jolie, sweetheart, it’s so good to see you.” Becky Harrison from next door, her mother’s closest friend, stepped up for her turn. Jolie had always liked Becky and her husband George, who also offered her a quick hug.

Okay, so it wasn’t exactly a party. Just old and dear friends.

There was someone else, though.

The seas parted as the others stepped aside and all Jolie could see was him. She knew she was staring and knew she shouldn’t. Her stomach did an odd little flip-flop as her eyes ate up all six feet plus of his physique, grayish-green eyes and dark wavy hair. He looked like a stranger, yet so familiar at the same time.

She took a step forward and then stopped, trying to regain her equilibrium. “Courtney?” No. No way. This could not be Courtney Harrison, George and Becky’s son. The Courtney Harrison who’d befriended her in childhood and worshiped her until they’d graduated high school. This man had never been the gangly kid with the buck teeth and thick glasses who’d doted on her every day of junior high, seemingly immune to her subtle put-downs. He couldn’t be the kid she’d practiced her feminine wiles on during early adolescent, or the one she’d laughed at when he’d mistakenly taken her experimentation seriously. Back then he’d been an even nerdier version of Clark Kent.

He smiled and she got a glimpse of perfectly aligned teeth and strong lips. Where were the crowded teeth? The braces? The headgear?

“Most everyone calls me ‘Court’ these days,” he said as he came forward. “It’s good to see you again, Jolie.”

He put his arms around her. Jolie’s head swam as she caught a light whiff of citrusy cologne. Her spine tingled and her toes curled before he stepped back.

Clark Kent had turned into Superman, complete with the stray lock of hair that fell over his forehead.

“Wow!” Had she said that out loud? “It’s, uh, good to see you, too.” Everyone chuckled and sat back down.

Was it her imagination or did Courtney—Court’s gaze linger on her? He relaxed back into his seat and sipped iced tea, but Jolie felt attuned to him nonetheless, even as she engaged in small talk with her parents and their friends.

With one part of her brain she tried to analyze her reaction, while outwardly she kept up with the conversation. In truth, she felt shell-shocked and longed for the retreat of her childhood bedroom where she could sort out the feelings Court’s embrace had churned up.

She watched him laugh at a story her father told, noted his long manly fingers curved around his glass, the breadth of his shoulders and the depth of his chest. She felt herself flush as her mind traveled elsewhere while her gaze lingered on the parts of him not covered by a dark blue shirt and khaki slacks.

Had she been twelve or thirteen when she’d convinced him to practice kissing her? Not that she’d had to try too hard to convince him of anything back then. He’d been her willing slave, hopelessly smitten with her since the third grade. She could still remember the touch of his lips against hers, and when they’d progressed to open-mouth kissing, the prickle of his braces.

He’d been crushed when she moved on to a real boyfriend and ended their practice sessions. But not so crushed he wouldn’t help her with her algebra homework or her science projects.

Courtney Harrison. She’d used him her whole life, even going so far as to spend the night of their senior prom with him in her twisted quest for male attention.

Chapter Two

“Hey, Princess. Want a ride?”

Jolie stopped on the sidewalk and turned. Courtney Harrison smiled at her from behind the wheel of his father’s Infiniti.

Her feet in their strappy four-inch heels were killing her. She hadn’t wanted to walk home from the senior prom, but Chip Sobeleski had abandoned her to get drunk with the other jocks from the football team. Some of her fellow cheerleaders had organized a prom night sleepover, but Jolie had bowed out. Disappointment had been following her ever since she’d left the civic center. The boy next door always seemed to show up just when she needed him.

She held up the hem of her gown and tiptoed across the grass moist with dew to the driver’s side window. “You’re going home already?” she asked him.

“I came. I saw. I had enough. Hop in.”

There was no good reason not to. Once she was in he put the car in gear. He parked the car in his parents’ driveway and walked Jolie to her front porch. She’d had such high hopes for the evening, the last social event of the senior year. She’d designed her own dress, painstakingly worked on the beading and the detail for over a month. She’d envisioned her and Chip together, dancing, chatting with everyone, being crowned prom king and queen. They’d been crowned, but Chip had barely been sober enough to get to the stage. As the evening wore on and he kept stepping out for more drinks with his team, Jolie’d had enough and left without a word to anyone.

“Want to come in for a while?” she asked Courtney. “Watch a movie or something?”

“Okay.”

He’d been in her room often enough, ever since childhood, but Court always acted like it was a special privilege to be invited.

In the bathroom Jolie changed into a faded pink warm-up suit. She released her elaborate updo but left her makeup on. Her earlier disappointment had been replaced with a weird kind of anticipation.

By the time she returned to the bedroom, Courtney had shrugged out of his jacket and toed off his shoes. He’d made himself comfortable on one side of Jolie’s double bed and was leafing through her collection of DVD’s.

“
Bridget Jones’s Diary
?” he asked, holding up the case.

“How fitting,” she said without a trace of irony.

She popped the DVD in and hit play before settling herself on the other side of the bed. They’d watched movies in her room many times over the years. They’d grown up together, played together, walked to school together. Even their parents were best friends.

Courtney turned to look at her. “The thing is,” he said in a perfect imitation of Colin Firth. “I like you. Just the way you are.”

Jolie smiled. She leaned up and kissed his cheek. He turned his head and tried to turn it into something more. He’d tried this before, but she always neatly dodged the move, forcing him to settle for her snuggling next to him while they watched their movie.

But tonight she thought, why not?

She let him kiss her for real, but she wasn’t prepared for what it did to her. This was no junior high kiss. The boy next door had learned a lot since then. So had she. Or she thought she had. But Courtney’s kiss churned up all kinds of things inside of her. She kissed him for real, and it seemed to go on forever. They were feverish and out of control. Of course kissing wouldn’t be enough. With boys, Jolie had learned, it never was.

His hands slid beneath her hoodie to caress her back. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Could she have made it any easier for him? His hands, when they cupped her breasts, were warm and firm. Her nipples peaked against his thumbs. Why wasn’t she pushing him away, telling him that was enough?

She undid the buttons on his shirt and with her help he shrugged out of it. He unzipped her hoodie and pushed it off. It all felt so good. So right. Courtney’s hand splayed across her bottom and kept her pressed against his hard-on. Jolie wiggled out of the elastic waist warm-up pants and kicked them away.

“Jolie.” Courtney’s voice was a choked whisper. His lips and his hands moved over her while she writhed against him, searching for something more.

He slid inside her panties and she sucked in a breath. She was slick and wet and his fingers rubbing against her felt divine.

Her fingers found the waistband of his pants, the zipper, the button.

“Jo,” he whispered.

She pushed and pulled and with his help his pants joined hers. The movie played silently—somehow the sound had been muted—but the light from the screen was enough for them to see each other.

Refusing to be afraid—this was Courtney, after all—Jolie slid her fingers beneath the waistband of his briefs and closed around him. He groaned while she marveled at the smoothness of his skin over his length.

She didn’t get to explore for long before he grabbed her wrist and stilled. He’d withdrawn his fingers from her panties, leaving her wet and needy. His gaze fixed on hers. “If you don’t want to do this, tell me now.”

His face was flushed. A sheen of perspiration covered his forehead. She shook her head. “Don’t stop.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

He sat up and scrambled on the floor for his pants. Withdrew his wallet and from the wallet a foil packet. In seconds he was back, gathering her to him, picking up where they’d left off.

Jolie knew Courtney had woken up before dawn, but he’d slid as quietly as he could out of the bed. Pretending to sleep, Jolie sighed and clutched a fistful of covers closer. He bent and kissed her temple, gathered his things and quietly let himself out.

She opened her eyes the moment he closed her bedroom door. The emptiness of her room crowded in on her as she looked at her familiar things. She wished he was still here. That he’d cuddle her and hold her without getting all complicated.

What happened last night had seemed right but her feelings for him were jumbled enough already. On the one hand, he was her childhood friend. He’d stood up for her, taken care of her, been there for her in a million little ways all of her life. But he wanted more than friendship and Jolie wanted…what? That was the thing she could never define. Somehow moving beyond the way things were seemed too big, too scary, too
something
. She wanted him, but on her terms.

He wanted way more. She knew it on some level even if she hadn’t caught him sneaking longing looks at her when he thought she wouldn’t notice. Even if he wasn’t at her beck and call, even when they both knew she was using him. She hated herself for treating him this way, but she couldn’t seem to stop it.

Before last night she couldn’t picture herself with him that way. Not him, not anybody. Chip had been after her forever to go all the way. He’d never admit to anyone that they hadn’t. Jolie let everyone think what they wanted to think, pretending to know more than she did about sex. She pretended a lot. She didn’t like that about herself, either. It was almost like she believed the version of herself she’d created: the pretty popular cheerleader with the hunky jock boyfriend. How could she give that up to become the insecure girl who fell in love with the awkward boy next door?

After she left Oak Ridge she hadn’t thought much about the way she’d treated Court until after the airbag in Jeff’s Mustang GT blew up in her face. Until she woke up in the hospital with a concussion and a few minor injuries only to learn that Jeff hadn’t survived the collision with the pick-up truck. Until she’d been forced to look in the mirror and ask herself who was staring back. She wondered why it had taken her so long.

She’d broken Court’s heart and dashed his devotion in the dust. Was it too late to make amends?

Chapter Three

The doorbell woke Jolie on Friday morning. Bright September sunlight shone through the window of her bedroom. She tried to remember the last time she’d slept in so late.

After the Harrisons left yesterday afternoon, taking Court with them, she’d unpacked and gone out to dinner with her parents. Not quite realizing how exhausted she was after the flight and the drive from the airport, she drank too much wine with dinner, fell into bed afterward and…here she was.

She blinked at the alarm clock and groaned. It was nearly nine. Her mouth had that fuzzy, cottony feeling and she had a dull, buzzing headache behind her eyes. The doorbell rang again.

She listened, but the house was quiet. Evidently her mother had no intention of answering the door.

Jolie found a thin cotton robe, shoved her hair out of her face with one hand and fumbled her way down the stairs as the doorbell rang a third time.

She yanked the door open. “Would you just—oh!”

The shout died on her lips. Court, looking fantastic, stood there bearing a box of donuts from Barney’s Bakery.

Her stomach growled.

“Since our mothers have abandoned us for the Hospital Auxiliary breakfast meeting, I thought I’d provide us with sustenance.” He brandished the box in front of her like it was a pillow holding a glass slipper, and she got a whiff of Barney’s freshly made donuts—a tradition in Oak Ridge for as long as she could remember.

Court took a closer look at her. “Sorry. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

Jolie realized she had no make-up on. She’d just woken up, and she hadn’t brushed her teeth or her hair.

It’s just Courtney from next door.
How many times had she told herself that? Hundreds. He’d seen her without makeup on more than one occasion.

But he was Court now, and he looked divine in his faded jeans and a polo shirt that sported a discreet Miami Dolphins logo.

He held the donut box out to her. “How about if I just leave these with you? I obviously woke you up—”

Jolie mentally shook herself, wondering how long she’d been standing there staring at him. “No, no, Court. Don’t be silly.” She stepped aside. “Come in. Please.”

He hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

He stepped across the threshold and Jolie closed the door. “But I did wake you,” he pointed out.

“You did, I won’t lie.” She started back to the kitchen and Court followed. “But I needed to get up anyway.” She smothered a yawn and pulled the coffee canister toward her.

Court set the donuts down and came up next to her. “Here, I’ll do that if you want to go get dressed or something.”

His arm brushed hers and Jolie felt that tingle of awareness shoot through her again. She glanced up. He was so close. Why had she never noticed how thick his eyelashes were?

“You don’t wear glasses anymore!” she blurted out.

He paused halfway through scooping the ground coffee into the filter. When he smiled the effect was devastating. “Laser correction. Although I still wear reading glasses sometimes.” He looked right at her.

“You’ve got really nice…” Why did it feel like she was drowning in the gray-green of his eyes? Her senses were awash in the clean scent of his cologne, and the way his physique dwarfed hers. His hair, which had been unruly in his teen years, was cropped into short stylish waves that brushed back away from his face, curling just slightly at his nape. And there was that one persistent lock that always wanted to curl over his forehead just like—

“Really nice what?” Court asked. He picked up the carafe and began to fill it from the faucet.

What was wrong with her? She’d met hundreds of handsome men in the past ten years. Sophisticated, urbane, wealthy, good-looking men. She’d dated quite a few, had long-term relationships with a couple. But none of them affected her the way Court did right now. The worst of it was he wasn’t even trying. He seemed as oblivious to her reaction to him this morning as he had yesterday.

She mentally shook herself. Darn it all. If he wasn’t going to be affected by her, she certainly wasn’t going to fall all over him. She’d gather her wits and be on her guard. The last thing she wanted to do was make a fool of herself over the new and improved Court Harrison.

“I think I will go get dressed.” She escaped the kitchen, tugging her robe more tightly around her.

Court smiled as he watched her retreat. So far so good. This was even better than he’d hoped. If he had to bet his new BMW on whether or not Jolie was interested in him he’d do it in a heartbeat. He had her so flustered she couldn’t think. Just the way she used to affect him.

Okay, he admitted, she still had the ability to fluster him, but he’d learned a thing or two since high school. He’d learned not to show every emotion he had on his sleeve. In fact, his livelihood depended on it. As a sports management representative, he’d learned to maintain a poker face during negotiations. Otherwise, he’d never have been able to put together the lucrative endorsement deals he had in the past few years.

“The tables have turned,” he said under his breath as he located two mugs, right on the shelf where Mrs. Kramer had always kept them. He wondered if Jolie took cream in her coffee. He had no way of knowing. They hadn’t been coffee drinkers in high school. He knew Jolie had some kind of high-powered job in the fashion industry, so he’d be willing to bet she took her coffee strong and black, just like he did.

He opened the box of donuts and set it in the middle of the kitchen table. One thing he did know—Jolie was a sucker for Barney’s toasted coconut crunch donuts. At least she used to be. He’d bought half a dozen, gambling that her taste buds hadn’t changed much.

The coffeemaker beeped and he poured himself a cup. He pulled the sports section out of the local paper on the table and settled into a chair.

He was half finished before Jolie reappeared. She had donned black slacks and sandals with a white shirt. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and he was sure she’d applied at least a modicum of makeup. Her complexion had a healthy glow and her blue eyes looked bigger and brighter. She wanted to look good. For him, he hoped. He hid his satisfaction.

Ten years ago, she wouldn’t have bothered. He’d seen her at her worst more than once over the years. You couldn’t live next door to someone your whole life and expect them to always be “on.”

She poured coffee for herself and topped his off. Her feminine fragrance, a mix of florals and spice, tickled his senses. He cleared his throat, quelling the instinct to pull her down to his lap and kiss her.

But within a week, he promised himself, she’d be begging him to do just that.

She took the seat across from him and pulled the donut box toward her. “I can’t remember the last time I had a donut. Typical female, I guess. Always counting calories and watching my shape.”

“Nothing about you is typical,” Court said. “And you look like you’re in pretty good shape to me.”

Jolie’s gaze met his. She blushed at the double compliment and looked at the donuts again. “Are these toasted coconut crunch?” She picked up one. “I love these!”

“I know.” Court took a sip of coffee.

“You know? You mean you remember? After all this time?”

“I remember lots of things,” Court informed her.

“Really? What else do you remember?” Jolie bit into the donut, closed her eyes and chewed. “Oh. Heaven,” she said. “Better than sex.” Her eyes popped open and she blushed again.

Court grinned and raised his mug in a silent toast. “Doesn’t say much for your sex life, does it?”

“Excuse me, but have you
tried
these?” She pushed the box in his direction.

He picked up a donut and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Hmm. I see what you mean. But I think I still like sex better.”

“Typical male,” Jolie muttered.

Court was enjoying himself. Finally, he was on equal footing with Jolie Kramer. Pretty soon, he’d have the upper hand.

“If you enjoy a Barney’s toasted coconut donut more than making love, maybe you’re not doing it right. Or maybe your partner isn’t.”

“Who said anything about making love?”

“I did.” Court grinned at her again and sunk his teeth into a big bite of his donut, aware of Jolie’s stare the entire time. “You know the kind I really like? The ones with the cream filling inside. Because then you can use your tongue on them—”

Jolie looked away. “Could we, uh, please talk about something besides donuts?”

“Oh? Were we talking about donuts?” Court waggled his eyebrows. If the rest of the day went as well as the morning, he was in for a heck of a time.

“You were saying before, you remember lots of things. Like what exactly?”

“I remember the time you got the flu and your mother was out of town. Your father was at work.”

“And you cut school—”

“Because you didn’t show up—”

“And you came over to check on me—”

“Because I was worried.”

“You were so sweet.”

“You were so sick.”

“Ha.” Jolie laughed without humor. “I remember throwing up so violently I thought my ears were going to explode.”

“Yeah, it was pretty bad.”

“And Daddy was working late. You stayed with me. And later you made me soup. Why’d you do that, anyway?”

Court shrugged. “We were friends.”

“Were we? I’m not sure I deserved your friendship. “Did I even thank you?”

She hadn’t. “I don’t remember.”

She sat back in her chair and picked bits of coconut off her donut. “I bet I didn’t. I was pretty self-involved back then. Selfish, really.” Her gaze came up and met his.

“How’s that been working out for you?”

Jolie blinked. So far she’d been the only one asking herself that question. “It never worked that well.”

Phase One complete. Court pushed his chair back. “I’ve got to run.” He set his cup in the sink and Jolie followed him to the door.

“Thanks, Court.”

“For what?”

“For—for the donuts for one thing. Taking care of me that time. For being my friend.”

“No problem.” That was the lie of the century. Being Jolie’s friend had brought him nothing but problems for as long as he could remember. “Hey, do you want a friendly ride to the cocktail party tonight?”

“I’d like that.”

“Pick you up around five?”

“Great. I’ll see you then.”

Court sensed Jolie observing his retreat.
Eat your heart out, Princess.
He wasn’t that gangly, pathetic adolescent anymore. The one who’d adored her throughout school, the geek who scrambled for any bit of her affection.

He knew how to attract women.
Yes, but you can’t hang onto them,
his subconscious reminded him. He pushed that thought away. He wasn’t looking to hang on to Jolie Kramer. He wanted to get over her.

Yeah? Then explain your reaction yesterday when you hugged her
. Court concentrated on watching as a robin ruffled its feathers in the birdbath so he wouldn’t be tempted to look back at Jolie. He refused to admit she could still affect him the way she always had.

He’d waited ten long years to prove to himself he was immune to her. If he couldn’t convince himself she no longer had the power to hurt him, he’d die trying.

Today was Friday. He had ten days to make sure he was no longer hung up on Jolie Kramer. Finally, he’d be free of the feelings he had for her. He’d walk away and never look back.

Jolie closed the door and leaned back against it. Giddy. There was no other word for the feeling she had. She hadn’t felt giddy in a long time.

She retraced her steps to the kitchen and poured more coffee. She stared at the remaining donuts. Had Court really remembered her favorite kind of donut? Or had he done a little research via her mother?

What had prompted his memory about her having the flu? What else did he remember?

What did she remember about him? Nothing specific came to mind. Court had simply always been there for her. A permanent fixture in the house next door. For a long time she’d never given much thought to him, and when she did, it was the sort of memory one might have about a childhood pet or a particular toy. Comforting, but without evoking any real emotion. She had trained herself
not
to think about the one night they had spent together—or the way she’d behaved toward him afterward.

But the adult Court set off an entire chain reaction of awareness and, she had to admit, interest. It seemed ridiculous but she almost wanted to ask him, “Where have you been all my life?” like some Hollywood film.

She’d wanted to say more, to somehow make amends for the way she’d behaved toward him. The apology she’d been working on tried to find a way out, but the timing was off.

But she had ten days, starting today, to make things right with Court.

Taking her coffee with her, she wandered back to her bedroom. It was still her room. Her mother hadn’t turned it into a sewing room or a den like some mothers did. Sue-Ellen had put away the posters that had at one time graced her walls and painted them a pale blue. There was certainly less clutter than when Jolie had occupied it. No photos stuck to the mirror, no make-up and jewelry scattered across the dresser top. Her jewelry box was still there, though.

Her Aunt Melonie had given the box to her for her tenth birthday. Black lacquer with a Far East motif and lots of small drawers to hold her treasures. She lifted the lid and the miniature ballerina sprang to life, twirling around the tiny mirrored dance floor to a haunting Japanese melody.

Jolie gently fingered the long-forgotten trinkets lying atop the faded pink satin lining. She opened one of the drawers and withdrew a locket on a gold chain. Where had this come from? She frowned, quite certain she’d never seen it before.

She opened the locket and stared. Inside were two pictures. One was her third grade school picture. She’d beamed at the camera, apparently proud of her missing tooth. The other was of Court at the same age, smiling his crowded-teeth smile from behind wire-framed glasses.

A very clear and vivid memory came to her. Court had given her this locket the day before she left for her internship.