It was a woman doing the harassing, and evidently she’d made her plans for him very clear.” He winked. “Most of the ‘plans’ were for after shift hours and involved little or no clothing. The guy thought he’d have to put out or risk getting a bad recommendation.” Beck grinned.
“My, how the tables have turned.” She smiled back.
For a millisecond she glimpsed their old friendship, how they’d tell each other secrets and discuss things that didn’t make sense to them, and how each could trust the other when it came to figuring life out. And when they couldn’t jointly come to a logical conclusion, which was most of the time, they would laugh.
Throughout her life she’d heard that a true test of friendship was when you could pick up right where you’d left off, no matter how long it’d been since you’d seen the other person. If Jan could take away all the other complications of the relationship between Beck and herself, she could admit that the rest, the friendship part, felt as though they’d never been apart.
Gooey warmth started in her chest and would have turned into a sappy longing for what they used to have, but she put an end to it with a quick reality check. If he knew her secret he’d hate her.
Lately, a new thought had been pushing its way into her conscience. Wishing she could put a sock in the mouth of the tiny voice in the back of her mind, she mentally stuck her fingers in her ears and sang La, la, la, la. It didn’t help. The chant refused to be drowned out. Sooner or later she’d have to face the inevitable.
Beck deserves to know.
Shut up!
Fighting near panic, she diverted her attention. She chanced a glance his way and made an abrupt detour to the hollow of his neck, the spot she’d once loved to kiss. She’d kiss him gently there and watch the pulse speed up and feel amazed that she had that power over him. By the time her gaze met his eyes, he was watching her, carefully, as if he knew exactly what she’d just been thinking.
If he only knew the half of it. Please, don’t let him be a mind-reader.
“You know what I always liked about you, January?”
Discomfort settled around her ribs. Did Beck need to go there? To tell her things she couldn’t bear to hear ever again?
He didn’t give her a chance to stop him. “You weren’t one of those good-looking girls who were always checking themselves out in mirrors or windows. It was almost as if you didn’t know how beautiful you were.”
The ache in her chest twisted into an agonizing knot, and pressed against her lungs. Please, don’t do this to me. I can’t handle it.
She opted for fake cheeriness. “Well, you can’t accuse me of being beautiful these days,” she said, adjusting her glasses and nervously flipping her bobbed hair.
“Not so. You see, blonde highlights and long hair and sexy make-up, that’s icing on the cake, sure. But real beauty is in here.” He tapped his fist on his chest. “Sure, you were a knockout, but I got to know a much more beautiful girl than anyone else did.”
“Please, don’t do this, Beck…”
“Why not? We were too young when we first fell in love. Now we’ve matured. We’re unattached. I still find you very attractive. Why not see if there’s any spark left?”
He still found her attractive? A desert’s worth of dryness filled her throat. She needed a drink of water. Shaking her head adamantly, she reached for the glass and sipped. She’d have to drown herself to quench the thirst. “Number one—we’re working together, and number two—trying to relive the past is always a recipe for disaster.”
His full lips disappeared into a thin line. His hazel stare cut through her defenses. He wadded his napkin up and tossed it on the table, then took the check and studied it. As he did, he said, “Are you seeing someone else?”
She gave a faint shake of her head. He slipped her a sideways glance and smiled. “What have you got to go home to at the end of the day?”
“That’s none of your business, Beck. I think you’re being too forward, and you’re making me uncomfortable.”
They reverted to one of their old stand-off stares. The same kind of deadlocked glaze they’d once given when they hadn’t been able to agree on an issue. She’d end the discussion by calling him “Manimal” and he’d retort with “Fembot” then he’d chase her around and she’d pretend to fight him off, until finally she let him kiss her and they’d forget whatever they’d disagreed on.
Man, had things changed.
Something shifted in his eyes, as if he’d just relived the same scenario. “Then I apologize,” he said curtly. He fished in the back pocket for his wallet and pulled out a small business card and a few bills. He left a couple of dollars on the table for a tip then used his fingers to clip the other to the check. “If you change your mind, this is my card.” He separated the business card from the cash and handed it to her. She hesitated, but didn’t want to be rude and took it. “There’s my home phone number and my cell is underneath.”
After he’d paid the bill, he walked her to the parking lot and, squinting from the sun, gave her a half-smile. Sparks seemed to leap off his skin and onto hers. She felt every single point of contact. This reaction to Beck wasn’t about high school and old times, this was now and his sex appeal had fanned and caught like wildfire on her flesh. Her cheeks flushed hot.
“You have a good day off,” he said, and swaggered away.
She stuttered but said goodbye and started toward her car. What did she have to go home to? Grocery shopping? A little house cleaning and then what? Dinner alone, with the company of a book, and, having spent time with Beck, a boatload of forgotten memories? And newly awakened desires she’d long forgotten she possessed.
She tucked his business card into her pocket and dug into her purse for the car keys. After turning down his blunt proposition, she was either the wisest woman on the earth or the biggest fool she’d ever met. Now all she had to do was figure out which.
Beck threw his leg over his bike and secured his helmet. He revved the engine and took off from the parking lot, gliding his foot lightly over the asphalt for balance. Frustration formed knots at the back of his neck. He had a thousand questions he’d meant to ask January, but hadn’t uttered one of them. He wanted to get even with her for screwing up his life, yet any time he spent around her only made him want her more than ever.
He’d recently read an article written by a psychologist on the topic of the high-school reunion effect on rekindling old flames. The gist was that first loves were always the most powerful and often imprinted themselves on the two lovers’ lives, similar to many species of birds that mated for life. The phenomenon, as the author described it, played out year after year as divorced adults rediscovered their first loves at a reunion and wound up finally marrying them.
He’d guffawed at the story when he’d first read it, but something had clicked in the back of his mind. He related to that “imprinted” feeling…with January.
He’d be a total fool to think something like that could happen with her. She’d just made it very clear their time together was ancient history. It was finally time to get over it.
But
