Love's Last Chance (5 page)

Now’s the time to call Rick Tarlock. Now,
while I have the nerve.
A slight nagging in her brain suggested
that calling when she was stone cold sober might be better, but she
ignored it.
I’m perfectly capable of talking to Rick. And if he
blows me off, I’ll just giggle.

Whipping out her cell, she crossed the
street and sank down on one of the benches in front of Central
Park. The light had faded into a glorious sunset of oranges, reds,
and pinks shooting across the sky. She dialed the number Drake had
given her, but her bravado evaporated the moment she heard his
voice.

“Hello? Hello?”

“Rick?” She bit her lip.

“Yes. Who’s this?”

She gulped air. “Dorrie. Dorrie Rodgers.
Remember me?”

“Dorrie? You’re kidding. Is this a
joke?”

“It’s really me.”

“Dorrie?”

“Yeah. How the hell are you?” She tried to
sound casual but ended up coming across as a phony to her own
ear.

“Surprised. I never expected to hear from
you again.”

“Yeah, our last conversation wasn’t
exactly…great.”

“Our second to last. The last one was just
you telling me you wouldn’t go out with me again…ever.”

“I’m sorry about that.”
Why was I so
final and so unfeeling?

“So why are you calling?”

“I’m in New York for a couple of weeks and I
thought…maybe. Well, maybe not. I mean, I understand if you don’t
want to see me. I wasn’t very nice.”

“You want to go out with me?” The surprise
in his voice came through loud and clear.

“Just dinner. Could we do dinner? Catch
up.”

“How long are you in New York?”

“A couple of weeks…but maybe coming back
after…” She closed her eyes.

“Dinner? Hell, yeah! I’d love to see you
again.”

Dorrie let out a breath she wasn’t aware she
was holding. “Great. What works for you?”

“How about tomorrow night?”

“Sure. I have rehearsal until seven.” She
pushed to her feet and strolled slowly up the avenue.

“Rehearsal? Are you in a show?”

“Choreographer. It’s a long story. I’ll tell
you tomorrow night.”

“Can you meet me at The Ransom Café?”

“That’s still there?”
Has it really been
five years?

“Sure is. Still my favorite, too.”

“Eight o’clock?”

“Perfect. Will I recognize you?”

“I’ve put on a little weight, but otherwise
I’m the same. You?”

“Lost a little more hair… Dorrie with a
little more weight. Hmm. Sounds intriguing.”

She could feel herself blush as his voice
got lower and sexier. She had had quite a hot relationship with
Rick. “Mostly the same old Dorrie,” she responded feebly.

He laughed and said goodbye. Dorrie fanned
herself with her hand. He’d created fire in her with just one
sentence. Even the cool night air didn’t reduce the heat level in
her veins right away.
Rick always could turn me on. Guess he
still can. This will be interesting.

Sobered by the night air and her
conversation, Dorrie walked the rest of the way in a quiet,
contemplative mood. Her reasons for telling Rick not to call her
again flooded back. Her smile turned to a frown.
Could he have
changed so much in five years? Doesn’t everyone grow up eventually?
Maybe. But not everyone becomes a giving person. This is his second
and last chance.

When she returned to the apartment, she made
an excuse about the late hour to Drake and Chrissy and went off to
bed. She stared up at the moon, wondering what she’d find when she
saw Rick. There weren’t any answers from Old Man Moon, just more
questions. Their words on their last date came back to her.

“You gave me everything, and I gave you
nothing,” he had said.

“Not everyone is a giving person. Some
people can’t give. I guess that’s you.”

She winced as the memory of the ice in her
tone returned. He hadn’t seemed injured by her words.
Men often
don’t show their wounds. I didn’t even ask him if he wanted another
chance. Didn’t ask him what he thought he could give to me then.
Just shut him down, turned off, and walked away. Cold, so cold.
Shame flooded her heart.
How could I have been so mean?

He had called her one more time, and she had
told him that she never wanted to go out with him again.

Closing her eyes didn’t help. Dorrie could
see the scene in her mind. Rick had sounded pathetic and a little
helpless.
But he didn’t speak up. Didn’t say he wanted another
chance. So…but maybe I shut him off. Who can tell?
Feeling
dizzy from the conflicting emotions whirling through her like a
tornado, she rolled over and fell asleep.

* * * *

The next day was busy. To avoid the heat of
midday, she led the troupe to the bandshell in Central Park in the
morning. She needed to try out the routines where they would be
shot so that she could make adjustments to the spacing, timing and
steps where needed.

They all worked hard, but no one harder than
Dorrie. By one o’clock, she reassembled the dancers in the studio
to practice away from the glare of the sun. By the end, everyone
was exhausted. Her ankle had begun to ache, a sign that she needed
to slow down. She sat cross-legged on the floor, rubbing her
muscles and tendons.
I can’t slow down. I have to do this. Even
if I decide to take the job in New York, I need to make this
choreography shine.

She showered and threw on her white sundress
that laced up the front before carefully applying makeup.
What
do I want from tonight? I want to know if one more day changes my
mind, makes me want to give him another chance. Will I feel the
same about him?

It was obvious his attraction for her was
still alive, though perhaps buried inside. Still, she needed to
know if Rick had been a sexy but shallow young guy, an incorrigible
jerk or a misunderstood man when she had left him. She crossed her
fingers before reluctantly raising her hand to hail a cab.
It’s
expensive, but my ankle needs a rest. No walking across town
tonight.

A taxi stopped. She gave the address then
leaned back against the cool seat and smiled.
The Ransom Café.
Wonder if they still have that veal parmigiana.
She’d never
allowed herself to eat it when she was dancing because it might
make her fat. Now, her mouth watered at the thought.
At least
I’ll have a good meal, even if I pay for it myself. Even if I don’t
reconnect with Rick. Tricky Ricky they used to call him. Have to
check with Drake to see if Rick still has that nickname.

The Ransom Café
still had the same
façade as five years ago, but the cream-colored paint had been
refreshed. Inside was as dark and cozy as always. Dorrie had a hard
time seeing for a moment until her eyes adjusted. The maître d’
approached.

“Rick Tarlock?” she asked.

“Right this way.”

He led her to a quiet table in the corner.
Rick stood up as soon as she arrived.
Yes, he’s lost some of
that beautiful, light brown hair, but he’s still tall with a big
smile.
He wasn’t a traditionally handsome man, but there was
something she found extremely attractive about him. Perhaps because
he’d always been nice to her, treated her well when they were
together.

He was a good kisser, too, if she remembered
right. The problem had been that they weren’t together enough,
making her feel shut out of his life. His many weekends away had
made her feel insecure. She’d wondered if he was sleeping with
other women at the ski house or the place in the Hamptons.

Here you go, Rick. Your second
chance.
He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek before
pulling out her chair.

“You look great,” he said, taking his
seat.

“So do you.” She placed her napkin in her
lap then raised her gaze to his.

“Filled out a little.”

“Might say that.”

“Looks…becoming,” he said.

He was always up for sex. I see that
hasn’t changed.
She chuckled to herself, pretending to cough.
His hand squeezed hers.

“Tell me what you’re up to,” he said, as the
waiter arrived with two menus.

“Do they still have that divine veal
parmigiana?” she asked.

“I’m afraid not,” the waiter said. “We’ve
replaced it with a veal marsala. Very nice.”

Dorrie raised her eyebrows and looked at
Rick.

He nodded once. “I’ve had it. It’s
good.”

“Okay. I’m convinced. I’ll try it.”

Rick ordered the lamb shank and a bottle of
Cabernet. “Still your favorite?”

“You remembered,” she said, pleasure filling
her veins.
Maybe I did leave him too fast.

“I remember everything about you.” He cast
his gaze to his hands.

“What are you doing now?”
I wonder if
he’s seeing someone. Probably wouldn’t confess to me if he was,
anyway. Tricky Ricky.

“Work wise? I’ve been promoted to a vice
president. I’m overseeing distribution.”

“Distribution? You must travel a lot to
visit the plants.”

“I do. I like to travel.”

“You always did.”

“I got the job the married guys didn’t want.
They wanted to be home with their families.”

“Easier when you’re single. Got that. But
what if you want to get married?”

He chuckled. “Not likely to happen any time
soon.”

She kept her smile painted on her face
though her spirits sagged.
Never gonna get married?

“Really? You’ll be single forever?”

“Hell, I’m only thirty-two. What’s the
rush?”

She nodded as if she understood, which she
didn’t.
He’s just saying that.
She shook off the negativity
of his statement and stared into his blue eyes. Before they could
tackle a new topic, their food arrived.

They finished half their meal before Rick
asked, “So what are you doing here?”

Dorrie told him about the choreography job.
He listened attentively.
He always was a good listener.

“When you left, you were going to make a
movie. Did you? What happened? From star to choreographer?” Dorrie
took two more bites then launched into her story. Rick asked good
questions, and when she skirted around Gunther Quill, he was too
polite to push for details.

“Engaged, huh?”

“It seemed right…at the time.”

“He’s the loser.” Rick picked up his last
bite with his fork and stared at his plate.

Maybe he’s not a marriage-phobe. Don’t be
so quick to judge. That’s why you took off in the first place. Now
you regret it. Relax.
She sat back in her chair and put down
her silverware. Rick raised his glass in a toast.

“To your success with
Hustle and
Dance
,” he said. Dorrie clinked hers with his and took a
healthy swallow. The wine was perfect, inducing her to drink more.
Rick refilled her glass. A nice buzz lifted her spirits and
jumpstarted her libido. She looked at him with a warmer gaze.

He picked up on it and laced his fingers
with hers. “To old times,” he said, softly.

“To old times. Hot times,” she whispered,
sipping her wine again.

His stare turned from warm to boiling as a
knowing smile spread across his face. “You were the best.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Really?”

“By a mile.”

Their eyes met and words fell away. The
silence was heavy with longing and desire. Dorrie wanted him again.
Will it be just as good this time?
She had to find out, had
to make love with him at least one more time to see if their
passion still existed.

He licked his lips and caressed the back of
her hand with his thumb.
His signature move. He always did that
before making a pass. Some things never change.

“How about dessert?” he asked.

“I’m pretty full.”

“They have real strawberry shortcake here.
Don’t you love strawberries?”

Good guess, Rick. Doesn’t everyone love
strawberries. At least he’s trying.

“Enough.” She wiped her mouth with her
napkin. “Just coffee will do.”

Rick ordered two coffees and sat back.
“Afraid to put too much on those beautiful bones?”

“I don’t want to overdo it. I think my
weight is just right as it is.”

“I’d have to agree.” Again, she felt the
warmth of his stare as it traveled slowly over her curves. They
sipped their beverages in silence, only their fingers moved,
dancing around each other. When the check arrived, Rick picked it
up as he always did and plopped down his credit card.

“Let’s split it.”

“Don’t be silly.” He waved her away.

Always generous.
She smiled to see
that that part of Rick hadn’t changed.
I’ll make it up to
him.

They strolled up the avenue hand-in-hand.
After five blocks, her ankle started to hurt. She cringed and
reached down to rub it.

“Problem?”

“Sometimes after an active day, it bothers
me.”

“Let’s take a cab. Can we go to your
place?”

“I’m staying with Drake and Chrissy.”

“Oh. No hotel, huh?”

Damn!
“You?”

“Still have a roommate, and he’s up late
sometimes.”

“Do you need him?”

“I moved into a nicer place. Splitting the
rent gives me more spending money.”

Yeah, and an excuse to go to the girl’s
place and never stay over. I remember.

“Come on. You can say hello, then we can
spend some time alone…getting reacquainted in my room. They’ll
understand.”

He broke into a big smile and raised his
hand. It didn’t take more than a few seconds for a taxi to pull to
the curb. Rick held the door open. “Let me massage that for you.”
He reached for her foot. The driver turned on the meter, and they
were on their way.

* * * *

Dorrie was surprised that Drake gave Rick
the third degree about his intentions toward her two minutes after
they arrived, as if he were her father. She put a stop to it,
turning to Chrissy for support. But Chrissy just gushed and got
embarrassed when she realized why he was there.