The Man Plan (7 page)

And how on earth was he to defend against that?

*   *   *

She got him rigged up, laced up, and ready to skate before he issued his first protest.

“Where’s
your
helmet?” he grumbled, shooting a meaningful look toward her bare head.

“I’ve done this dozens of times. I don’t need one.”

“Of course you need one. Your head’ll crack open as easily as mine if you hit blacktop.”

She gave him a superior look, gliding on her Rollerblades in an easy circle in front of where he sat on a park bench. “Ah, but you see, I won’t be hitting the pavement.”

“Accidents happen. Someone might bump you from behind, knock you over. This place is crawling with people.”

“Central Park’s always crowded, especially on the weekends. Why do you think they close the streets to cars on Saturdays and Sundays?”

“To irritate motorists?”

“Ha-ha. Very funny. Come on. Let’s get moving.”

“Uh-uh. Not until you cover up that pretty little head of yours.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back. “If
I
have to wear a helmet,
you
have to wear a helmet.”

Ivy thrust out her lower lip. “I don’t like ’em. They’re hot and they ruin my hair.”

“Hey, I’ll be happy to return all this stuff and go home. There’s a very fine bottle of Bordeaux in my wine room just waiting to have its cork popped.”

She knew him well enough to realize he’d make good on his threat if she didn’t give in. He might be fair and reasonable most of the time, but when James turned stubborn, he could be as immovable as a ten-ton granite boulder.

She tossed up her hands. “Fine. I’ll wear a helmet.”

“Pads too. You don’t want to scrape up those delicate elbows and knees.”

“Don’t push your luck, buddy,” she warned before turning to skate over to the rental booth.

She returned shortly, helmet fastened with a strap beneath her chin. “Satisfied?”

He nodded, an amused gleam in his eyes.

“Okay, then,” she declared. “Enough stalling.”

“Who’s stalling?”

“You are. Now, up and at ’em. Remember what I told you: Find your center, then gently push off. Think ice-skating without the ice. And don’t forget to use your heel brake.”

“Yes, Teach, I remember. Stand back and give a man some room.”

She did as he asked, hovering anxiously as a mother hen watching a fledgling chick leave the nest for the first time.

But she needn’t have worried. James found his balance after an initial bobble and a quick grab at the park
bench for support. Steadying himself, he rolled easily toward her before coming to a perfect stop.

Looking pleasantly surprised and more than a little pleased with himself, he shot her a grin. “Hey, this isn’t as hard as I thought it’d be.”

She grinned back. “I knew you’d be a natural.”

He rolled a few more feet, circled slowly, stopped again, then spread his arms wide. “This just might be okay.”

A trio of kids picked that second to come whizzing by on skateboards, whooping and hollering at the top of their teenage lungs. One of them raced toward her and James, veering off at the last second to try a fancy leap over the bench.

The velocity and abruptness of his move was enough to overset them all. The kid went flying, board winging out from under him before he crashed on the grass beyond.

She swiveled, legs splaying, arms pinwheeling as she fought to retain her balance. By some miracle, she stayed upright, but James wasn’t so lucky. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of him as he flipped up, clear off his skates, then came back down with a hard thud onto the pavement.

Her throat squeezed tight. She skated forward. “Oh God. Oh, James. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

She knelt down next to him where he lay on his back. Without thinking, she reached out and began running her hands over his shoulders and chest and arms as she blindly searched for injuries.

He groaned, his eyes closed.

“Can you hear me? Can you talk? Say something, James.”

“
Ow.
” His eyes popped open. “
Ow, ow.
” He winced before gently grabbing her hands to stop them.

“Are you all right?” she asked, a big dose of guilt washing over her.

What if he was hurt?

What if he was seriously injured?

She’d never forgive herself, especially since she’d practically twisted his arm, making him try something he hadn’t wanted to try in the first place.

She’d just wanted to spend the day with him. She’d just wanted him to have some fun. As far as she could see, he didn’t have nearly enough fun. Now she’d probably never get him to try anything new again.

He groaned. “Stupid punk kids.”

She looked around for the boys, but they were long gone. “They’re not supposed to be skateboarding here. Where’s the skate patrol when you need them?”

“Probably on a doughnut break like the rest of the city’s finest.”

If he could joke, she thought, he couldn’t be too seriously injured. Then again . . .

“Lie still,” she told him. “I’ll get help.”

“No.” He released her hands, levered himself onto his padded elbows. “I think I’m all right.” After a long moment, he sat all the way up, rolled his shoulders, his neck, tested his arms and legs. “No permanent harm done, I guess, though I’ll probably be stiff as an arthritic old man come morning.”

“I’m sorry. I never dreamed something like this
would happen. If you want to pack it in and go home, I’ll understand.”

“Pack it in? Hell no. I’m not going to let some stupid kids chase me off. I came to learn to Rollerblade, and by God, I’m going to learn to Rollerblade.”

She stared at him for a long, surprised moment, and knew again exactly why she loved him. Only through sheer force of will did she stop herself from throwing her arms around him and giving him a big smacking kiss.

But she couldn’t afford to scare him off.

If only she knew whether her plan was working or not. He still treated her like his little sister most of the time, and today’s fiasco wasn’t helping matters any. Still, every once in a while she thought she caught a glimpse of something else in his eyes, something more.

A shiver ran down her spine at the possibility.

“Here, let me help you up.”

She reached down and slipped an arm around his back, placing her chest at his eye level. She shivered again as she glanced down, noticing where his gaze had landed. On her breasts, following their movement, the gentle rise and fall of them with her every breath beneath her shirt.

She imagined him leaning closer, pillowing his head against her willing flesh. Imagined stroking her hand over his cheek, his forehead as she leaned down to kiss away all his hurts and oh, so much more.

Abruptly, he stiffened and pulled away. “I’m fine. Let go, Ivy.”

Stung, she sat back as he turned away.

She managed to compose herself by the time they were both on their feet again, a sunny smile she didn’t feel pinned to her lips.

This making him love me thing is going to take time,
she reminded herself.

But she’d waited her whole life so far. She could wait a little bit longer.

She would wait forever if that’s what it took.

“Ready to try it again?” she inquired.

He smacked a smudge of dirt off the butt of his shorts, then turned her way. “Ready as I’ll ever be, assuming the coast is clear this time.”

She looked around. “Seems to be. Now, push off like you did before. . . .”

*   *   *

James eased into a hot bath, tendrils of steam rising from the water’s surface. He sighed as his aching muscles began to relax. He let his eyes slide closed as he rested his neck against the rim of his wide, white marble tub, wiggling his toes to stretch the muscles of his calves.

He smiled, thinking about the day. Despite his current aches and pains—and a less than stellar beginning to the experience—he had to admit he’d had fun.

Ivy was right. Once you got the hang of it, Rollerblading was sick.

Listen to him, he thought—
sick
.

He sounded like some college kid, which he conceded with a grimace as another sore muscle complained, he clearly was not.

Not at thirty-five.

Still, he was a long way from a rocking chair. He was physically fit, a man in the prime of his life, and today he’d had fun acting half his age. Speeding along on a pair of in-line skates, wind skimming over his skin, trees flashing by overhead, pavement racing past below . . . well, it was an exhilarating, invigorating, carefree experience.

Good thing he’d let Ivy talk him into trying it.

Maybe he should invest in a pair of skates so he wouldn’t have to rent them next time.

He considered it, then wondered which companies manufactured in-line skates. What sort of profit potential was there in the product? What kind of investment opportunities? He decided he’d have to make a note to look into it when he got into the office. Perhaps Ivy’d inadvertently led him down a lucrative new avenue.

He smiled again, thinking about the pizza and beer they’d had after their skating adventure. And the mammoth banana split they’d shared after the meal. Ice cream, hot fudge, and whipped cream mounded so high they’d barely been able to see each other across the table.

She’d giggled as she’d plunged in, eyes flashing in mischievous delight as she ate her first bite. A shiny, sticky glaze of chocolate had remained on her pretty lips. He’d watched in a kind of agony and ecstasy as she’d licked them clean.

How easy it would have been to lean over and clean those lips for her with a kiss. He remembered how he’d sat there thinking that very thing before plunging his
spoon into the dessert, settling for vanilla and chocolate ice cream instead.

He shifted beneath the water, uncomfortably aware of his semiaroused state. Much more of this kind of thinking and he’d be rock hard. He groaned and forced himself to relax.

He’d have to stop seeing her. Put a halt to these impromptu visits. He’d have to encourage her to widen her horizons and cultivate some new friends, women her own age.

And men.

He supposed she’d want to see men.

Date men.

Sleep with men.

Christ
.

He sat up in the tub, his good mood taking a sudden nosedive. He didn’t dwell on the reason for his abruptly irritable humor as he reached for the soap.

He’d just finished scrubbing his body, his hair, and rinsing himself clean, when the phone rang. He thought about ignoring it, letting the voice mail pick up, when he changed his mind.

With dripping fingers, he reached out, hit the button for the bathroom wall phone. “Hello.”

“Hi, it’s me. I wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.”

Ivy
.

He sank deeper into the tub, struck by the rhythm of her voice.

Had it always been so honeyed? So rich and throaty like warm buttered rum?

“James? Are you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here. What’s up?”

Wrong question,
he thought, stifling a moan as his erection returned.

“I know it’s late, but I was concerned, because of your fall. How are you doing? Are you terribly bruised?”

He had some doozies, dappled like patches of wild blueberries all over his hips and backside, but he wasn’t about to discuss them with her.

“I’m fine. Taking a bath.”

“Oh?” Her answer came out on a tone of curious interest.

“I mean, I took a bath. I just got out. Just got dressed for bed.”

Shit, that didn’t sound any better than the other.

“I thought the heat, you know,” he said, “soaking in hot water would help.”

This conversation just gets worse and worse. I really need to quit talking.

She paused before continuing. “It should help. I hope you’re not too stiff in the morning.”

I’m pretty stiff right now
.

He scrubbed a hand over his face and closed his eyes, wondering how he’d gotten himself into this situation. “So, umm, thanks for checking on me, Ivy,” he said, hoping to put a quick end to their conversation. “I had a nice time today.”

“Did you? Oh, I’m so glad. I wasn’t sure.”

“Yeah, it was fun. Well, it’s getting late—”

“I know, but I wanted to ask—”

“Ask me what?”

“About Wednesday. What are you doing Wednesday evening? There’s an art show, a traveling retrospective of Miró. I know you like his work and so do I, and I thought . . . well, I thought we could go together.”

“Oh, well, I don’t know. . . . Wednesday, middle of the week. It’s not such a good day.”

“Friday, then? The show’s here until the end of the month. It would be a shame to miss it.”

He hesitated, knowing he should refuse. That’s all he needed to do, spend more time with Ivy. Hadn’t he just gotten through telling himself not half an hour ago that he was going to put some distance between them?

But she had such a hopeful note in her voice. She’d be hurt if he brushed her off, and he couldn’t very well cut her out of his life entirely. They’d known each other forever. She wouldn’t understand if he pulled away. This little problem of his—he glanced between his legs and amended—this big problem of his, well, it would go away soon enough.

He thought of Parker, realizing he couldn’t use her as an excuse. She was visiting her mother in San Francisco. She’d left yesterday for a two-week holiday. Besides, it wasn’t as if going to an art show with Ivy was a date. It wasn’t, any more than today had been a date. Just two friends getting together to have a couple of laughs.

Still, he should tell Ivy no.

“All right,” he said. “Friday sounds good. What time?”

“Six, then we’ll grab some dinner after. Can’t wait.
Well, I’ll let you go. Get a good night’s sleep and hope you don’t have to count any sheep.”

It was an old thing they used to say to each other when she was a child.

Well, she wasn’t a child any longer. He was finally beginning to realize that fact.

“Good night, Ivy. See you Friday.”

He disconnected, wondering what he’d just done.

Gingerly, he stepped out of the bath, dried himself, and put on a robe. Then he went in search of a nightcap. He didn’t usually drink before bed, but tonight he decided he’d make an exception.