The 90 Day Rule (6 page)

I’d watched the judicial system for far too long to not recognize a masterful game of let’s make a deal. But if I got what I wanted, who was I to complain? I could afford to cave this one last time.

It was likely the only time I’d ever come away with something tangible. An education. A start on a future that was under my control. A chance to be a woman, not a puppet. A woman with a destiny.

Church bells rang, choirs sang, I hummed
…bitch i’m ballin out the gym…

With new resolve, I stood, my legs approximating jelly. Jack rose slowly, looming over me.

“Thank you for dinner, Mr. Ryan.”

He didn’t move, not noticeably, but he was definitely closer now. He had a good four inches on me. Over me.

Banking on the three, I said, “I accept. But not for the reasons you’ve been led to believe.” I wasn’t about to spill my guts to this man. My reasons were my own and he could think whatever he wanted.

In any case, he’d gotten the slam dunk, SCORE! I was a done deal.

Except … when he cupped my face in his hands and leaned in to brush my lips I felt the bottom drop out of my belly and land in a spot that hadn’t seen any action since … well, ever.

His lips, only his lips, so sensual, soft, then a probe, the tip of his tongue flicking past the barriers and exploring with such sweet gentleness my skin flushed with exquisite heat.

I could lose myself in that heat…

“Stay.”

The new me, the woman with a future and prospects, wanted desperately to say yes, but the rational woman, the one who never had a chance to choose, knew better.

I whispered, “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Why not, indeed?

I held up my left hand, the one with the half carat and the bruised knuckles. I tapped the ring with a forefinger.

“I’m still married.”

“You’re getting a divorce.”

“Yes.” Even I could tell I was close, so very close.

“Take it off.”

Oh, if only it were that simple, but it wasn’t. I’d made a vow all those years ago. Yes, Robert had broken it, probably more than once. But I’d spent all those years being better than… I wasn’t ready to lower myself to that level.

“I can’t.” The squeak turned into a facsimile of resolve. I murmured, “Ninety days.”

“What?”

“Once I sign the papers, then it’s official in ninety days.” I backed away, hands clenched, begging him to understand. It was clear he didn’t. “Until then, Jack, I’m still married.”

With a small voice I said, “It’s a rule.”

He’d left his hands on my face, the thumbs working that magic over my lips. I don’t know where I got the strength of will to pull away but he finally released me, reluctantly.

“I’ll take you home.”

Blushing, I mumbled my thanks and bit my lip to keep from saying any more than that. Miserable, I settled against the door, leaning my head against the glass, watching the winking lights of evening whizz past.

Jack made small talk. Some of it registered, the bits about sending over the application and the details for the teaching assistantship. When he pulled in front of Etty and Chazz’s building, I slipped out and turned to thank him once more. In spite of everything, I was truly grateful for the opportunities fate presented.

But I’d run out of words and the temptation to stay was still strong. So I shut the door and stepped onto the sidewalk.

“Jes?”

Yes, of course yes
sat on my lips.

“Monday, my office. Seven sharp.”

He winked and slowly pulled into traffic.

Chapter Five: Squaring Off

The A/C buzzed and clinked, a nice background hum to my racing thoughts. Sleep had been slow in coming, despite having the apartment to myself. Etty had opted to stay over at Chazz’s place, wherever that was.

I prayed it wasn’t one of those sports frat houses but the odds were pretty good it was.

The bathroom light was just bright enough to allow for a cringe-worthy stare in the mirror. I looked like I’d been rode hard, which was really annoying because I wasn’t ‘rode’ at all, and that dream of being put away wet had been one of the things keeping me awake half the night.

I slipped on Etty’s old sweat pants and a tank top. Even with the A/C going full blast my skin was sticky.

After a perfunctory attempt at tidying the bathroom I gave up in favor of pacing the small space. I was bored, annoyed, and frustrated. Not necessarily in that order.

The tap on the door came as a welcome relief. Etty and Chazz were social animals and had a constant stream of visitors. I’d gotten to enjoy their company, the youthful enthusiasm, gripes and complaints about classes, coaches, and room-mates.

It made me wonder why I’d never volunteered at a youth center, though in truth Robert wouldn’t have approved, citing safety concerns. At one time that flattered me, immensely. But after a while I came to realize it was more of a worry about
his
image and less about who I associated with. Youth groups in our area had rarely included any so-called middle class teens making poor life choices.

 The tap became a knock.

Shuffling to the door I muttered, “I’m coming, don’t get your knic— Oh.”

The first thing I saw … actually the first
two
things were the Diner’s signature grilled sticky buns, steam wafting from the waxed paper wrapper into the chilled air, and two vente Starbucks to-be-sampled coffees.

“Mocha latte?”

He smiled and said, “White chocolate mocha latte.”

Sighing with pleasure I pressed my luck. “Whipped cream?”

“Yes’m.”

Mercy, he was stroking the bun wrapper with a thumb. How he did that and balanced the two Styrofoam cups attested to impressive skills with his hands—his very large hands. Hands that could cradle a basketball…

“Um, mind if I come in? These are hot.” He nodded at the coffee cups while I sputtered an ‘OK’ and managed to move myself and the door wide enough to allow his big body to enter.

His big, wide body.

I needed that coffee.

Moving through the apartment as if he’d been there many times before, Jack, my new boss, Ryan settled the buns on the kitchen counter, then placed the cups next to them, one on each side. The scent of grilled cinnamon and melted brown sugar over yeast-raised dough was almost more than I could handle—aside from the man gazing at me with more than a hint of humor and sly deviltry.

The kitchen was less a mystery than when I’d first appeared a few days before so I reached for the small mismatched Corelle Ware plates on the shelf above the sink. Jack beat me to it, our hands touching briefly. I might as well have stuck my fingers on a lit burner for all that I jerked back in pure unadulterated terror.

Whatever magic energy he carried in that massive frame, he surely knew how to use it to maximum advantage. My skin felt singed, in a most pleasant manner, the tingle spreading south, slamming up against some natural dam that trapped, then released a flood of moisture.

If I’d had my Kindle I’d have been tapping out notes to compare later with certain favorite ‘scenes of affection.’

“Kindle?”

Oh God, I needed to stop doing that, talking to myself. He was going to think I was a lunatic.

As if he could read my thoughts he asked, “You do that a lot, don’t you? I mean … talk to yourself.”

“Uh, not really, no.”

Grabbing the coffee and the plates I headed to the couch and arranged the place settings, buying time while I wondered what was missing.

“I’ve got them.” He held up a knife and fork for each of us and came to settle next to me, shoulders touching.

My mouth watering, I leaned forward to snatch a bun but he beat me to it.

Jack snorted, “You’re out of practice.”

Practice. Yeah I was, but how he knew that was … Oh,
that
kind of practice. Snatch and grab.

I laughed. “I’m just being polite. Next time, watch out.”

As we stuffed our faces with the sinful concoction, it finally occurred to me to ask why he was at my daughter’s apartment at … cripes, seven o’clock in the frigging morning.

“I’m an early riser. Figured you would be, too.”

He flicked the lid off the cup and took a deep draught, sighing with contentment. The remnants of the whipped cream left a line along his upper lip.

Dark bristles shadowed a deep cleft in his chin, the jaw strong and square, not jowly. He’d removed his glasses giving me an unfettered look at cobalt blue eyes, deep set, almost smoky, the corners framed in laugh lines that radiated out, giving him an almost feline appearance. Strong brows. High forehead, a slight widow’s peak.

The lips were thin, kissable, framed by the milky foam. My tongue swept my lower lip in anticipation.

I could almost taste the sinful, wicked…

“Go ahead.”

It was a whisper, sub-vocal, forcing me to lean in further.

“Wha—?”

“You know you want to.”

Oh God, he was teasing me. That demon! He knew
exactly
what he was doing. And before my tongue could trace a howdy-do on his upper lip, I snorted and parked my derriere against the far end of the couch.

“I’m not
that
easy.” Well, that wasn’t quite true but I managed to keep the tone light, giving as much as I got.

He gave me the
are you sure about that
look, then turned his attention to the remaining sticky bun. If I’d been alone or with Etty, there’d have been a pastry resting nicely on each hip. Apparently my new boss didn’t have any concerns about his own weight so he relieved me of that opportunity to impress.

My new boss…

Mumbling, “Tell me again why you’re here at this ungodly hour,” I rose to snag a couple of paper towels, ran them under the faucet to dampen the paper, and parked myself on the coffee table.

Jack nodded his thanks and cleaned the sugary mess off his mouth and fingers before explaining, “Well, the kids will be coming in and it’s a zoo right before the semester starts. You need to fill out the paperwork and look at the program before we send you off to…”

He madly did a brain google but came up empty.

“Matriculate?”

“Yeah, that. Anyway, since the gym will be free this morning, I thought you and I could shoot a few baskets, see what you’re gonna need to bring your skills up to par.”

There were so many things wrong with that idea that I couldn’t begin to list them.

Coach Ryan saved me the trouble.

“I know it’s probably been years and you’re not in shape, so now’s as good a time as any to get you into a program to bring that body of yours up-to-speed.”

Add to that: I’m fat as a house, I have nothing to wear, I’d need to wear my contacts, and … oh yeah, I’m fat…

“We’ve got plenty of uniforms that’ll fit. Um, do you have trainers or something you can use to make do?”

I nodded, numb from the eyeballs down. The prospect of making a total fool of myself, even if it was just the two of us, didn’t strike me as a good way to start the rest of my academic career.

But he was right. If I wanted to be a success, there were going to be sacrifices. The big one wasn’t reclaiming a facsimile of my twenty-year-old body. No, it was making what I had fit enough to get the job done.

Ryan patted my thigh and said, “Atta girl,” with no small amount of approval.

I really needed to get control over my face. Or else this man was a mind reader. I didn’t think that was the case, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep that possibility in mind.

He stood and asked, “Do you have a sports bra?”

He said that with a straight face. No uptick to the mouth, no glinty-eyed sparks from his crystalline blue eyes. But he was staring at my tank top.

The one showing cleavage. Complements of going
au naturel
first thing on an early Sunday morning when no one in their right mind had company bringing buns…

Tight buns…

The squeak might have been a
no
.

“Um, well, I can’t really help you with that.”

Oh yes, he could, but not today.

Crossing my arms I braced nature’s largesse and scurried to the bedroom in search of something reasonably stiff and supportive.

“No underwire, Jes.”
Say what?
“Not unless you want me rubbing you down with talcum powder afterwards.”

Who was this man? He was kidding, right? Peeking out from the bedroom, I caught him turning away with a naughty smirk on his face. God, the man was forty-something going on sophomore.

I chuckled. If I was lucky I might surprise him.

I was too lazy and too stingy to waste time and money on a fancy gym membership but that didn’t mean I’d let myself go completely. Robert liked tennis, I didn’t. In exchange for him spending what little free time he had at the neighbor’s and other judge’s tennis facilities, I got a small basketball court installed behind our four car garage.