Nobody's Fool (6 page)

She’d come to apologize to Sarah. Who’d have thought Sarah would end up thanking her? When had any good ever come out of anyone being mean to a fellow human being? Yet, according to Sarah, she was the proof such things happened. Caroline Gordon would have a field day analyzing that.

Jolie had expected to feel bad after apologizing to Sarah. She’d expected Sarah to berate her for her behavior. Somehow Sarah’s gratitude was harder to take.

“I think I should go.”

Sarah followed her to the door. “Thanks for the flowers.”

“You’re welcome. You’re lucky, Sarah. You know who you are. I’d give anything to—”
To know who I am.
“Never mind.”

“Thanks for stopping by, Jolie.”

Jolie hesitated on the porch, fear of rejection still pouring through her. “I’m going to be in town all of this week,” she said. “Maybe we could do lunch, or…or something.” She waited, worried that Sarah would laugh, or worse—mock her for trying to be friendly at this late date.

Sarah gave her an odd look, as if surprised by such a suggestion, but then she smiled. “I’m only teaching half-days this year, so sure, if you want to get together, we could.”

Jolie breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ll probably be at the lake with Court on Tuesday but Wednesday afternoon or Thursday, maybe? I’ll call you.”

Sarah nodded and closed the door. Jolie glided to her car, a spring in her step. Who knew making amends, and maybe making a new friend, could be so exhilarating?

By the time Jolie arrived home, her exhilaration had deflated like an old balloon. Regret for her years of insincerity weighed her down.

Jolie lowered herself to the top step of the porch. She couldn’t face her mother’s cheeriness just yet, not after her visit with Sarah. Her mother would sense her mood and ask why she was so down. What could she say? Excuse me, Mom, but why didn’t you ever point out how horrible I was in high school? Why did I have to figure that out myself?

Chip was devastated when you dumped him
. Sarah’s words echoed in her head. Jolie wanted to curl up in a ball at the way she’d stomped on other people’s feelings. She’d told Chip good-bye and never looked back. She’d never really thought much about him once she left Oak Ridge.

She’d sailed through college and bounced between New York and LA, hobnobbing and name-dropping. She’d made a name for herself as a stylist. She dressed celebrities, or at least the wives and daughters of celebrities. She had features in
New York Style
magazine.

And? What else?

No relationship, not at the moment anyway. She’d dated over the years, but with her demanding schedule, not to mention those of her beaus, none of them had lasted. She hadn’t really cared that much.

But today, when she saw Sarah with her two little ones, her biological alarm clock began to go off. She’d hit the snooze button, but realistically, what were her chances? Thirty began to loom as it never had before. She had no man in her life, didn’t even know anyone she’d consider procreating with. What kind of mother would she be, anyway? Maybe she was too selfish to have children. Or a husband.

She thought of Jeff again, as she often did ever since the accident. They’d been dating, but still hadn’t known each other all that well. They’d only scratched the surface of a potential relationship before the opportunity had dissolved in tangled metal and smoke.

She told herself not to dwell on what would never be, but sometimes she couldn’t keep her thoughts from drifting back. Jeff’s death had stunned her and made her take a good, hard look at her own life. She’d re-examined herself and hadn’t liked what she’d found. She’d vowed to move forward, to change, to be the best Jolie Kramer she could be. She’d never wavered in that, but some days, like today, it wasn’t easy or pleasant.

“What’s the matter, Princess? Having a tough day?”

Jolie looked up. Once again, she hadn’t heard him walk up, but there was Court, dressed in running shorts and sneakers. No shirt to cover his toned and tanned torso. Okay, so she’d lied before. She
did
know a man she’d consider procreating with.

Why was he so blasted cheerful all the time? She regarded him from her perch, chin in hand, her elbow resting on one knee. “Why do you keep calling me ‘Princess’?”

He grinned that irritating, knowing grin of his, displaying those perfectly aligned teeth. There was no mistaking the twinkle in his eyes, either. He put his hands on his hips, drawing her gaze down to take in his chest with its sworls of dark hair and abs any guy would be proud of.

“I don’t know. It suits you. I think of you as someone who has everything she wanted and lords it over everyone else. The rest of us are just peasants here to do her bidding.”

“Is that how you think of me?” Tears pricked the backs of her eyes again. What was that, the third time that day? What was wrong with her? What did she really care what Sarah—or Court for that matter—thought of her? She’d be gone from Oak Ridge in a week. If she played her cards right, it’d be another ten years before she saw either of them again.

Court’s voice softened as if he knew he’d struck a nerve. “No, not really. I think that’s the way you think of yourself, though.”

She gave a defiant look to cover how close he’d hit to the mark. “You’re saying I’m selfish and shallow? That I don’t care about anyone but myself, and I don’t care who I hurt?”

“Whoa, wait, a minute. Where’s this coming from?”

She looked away. “Nothing. Never mind.”

He stayed there, watching her, but she couldn’t meet his gaze. She wondered if Court felt the same way Sarah did. Had her callous handling of his feelings pushed him into some positive life changes?

“I was going to run down to Sutter’s Mill and back. Want to come with me?”

“Run? That’s got to be at least two miles.”

“And two miles back. How ’bout it?”

“I don’t run.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot. You have one of those curtained sedans your slaves carry you around in just like Cleopatra.”

She tried not to smile at that image and failed.

“Come on. A four-mile run won’t kill you. I’m sure you work out.”

“Ha. Working out in a gym is not the same thing as running.”

“If you can’t make it, I’ll let you walk and then I’ll buy you dinner.”

“That’s not much incentive for me to run, is it?”

“Okay, we’ll race. Loser buys dinner.”

Jolie squinted at him. Court was in excellent physical shape. No way could she beat him, but she’d give it her best shot. Either way, she had a dinner date to look forward to. Just what she needed to distract her from her dark and brooding thoughts.

She got up, brushing down her skirt. “You’re on. I’ll go change.”

Twenty minutes later they were on the gravel road that led to Sutter’s Mill. Abandoned now, the mill had been an Oak Ridge landmark for over a hundred years. It was conveniently located next to Sutter’s Creek, a small tributary to the Fox River.

There were worse things to be doing on a fall afternoon, Jolie supposed. She’d managed to keep up with Court, although his idea of a run seemed to be more along the lines of a comfortable jog.

“You don’t have to go easy on me, you know,” she told him. Dinner tonight was already in the bag. It didn’t matter to her whether she won or lost, it’s how she played the game that mattered.

Now why had that old saying popped into her head? Was her subconscious working on her? She was getting pretty tired of these subliminal messages.

“I’m not going easy on you,” Court told her. “I’m pacing myself.”

“How often do you run?”

“Every day if I can. I have since high school.”

“Really? I don’t remember you running in high school.”

“No reason why you should, I suppose. I lettered in track my senior year. Cross country. Only sport I was any damn good at.”

Why did being with Court make her feel so bad yet at the same time so good? For the first time in her life, she was seriously interested in a man for himself, not for what he represented. She’d never really worried whether or not the men she dated liked her. What was not to like? She was attractive, financially independent and could carry on a conversation.

But with Court she wanted him to like her. She didn’t particularly care if he found her sexy, but something in her yearned for his approval. His friendship. And something told her she fell short of ever having either.

“It all seems like a blur to me, senior year,” she said. “I think I must have been oblivious to just about everyone. Except myself, of course.”

“I remember you were dead set on getting a summer internship with some designer. You were a nervous wreck over your application. I think you changed your mind a million times about which designs to submit.”

“You remember that? I showed them to you?”

“I was barely a blip on your radar, wasn’t I?” Court asked good-naturedly. “Of course you did. About every three days. I remember the wedding dress the best. I could easily picture you in it.”

Jolie didn’t know what to say to that. She remembered the wedding dress she’d designed as well. Drawn in every detail, made copious notes about the lining and draping.

“I don’t know why you even bothered with me back then. I wasn’t very nice to you.”

Court slanted a look at her as they jogged. “A glutton for punishment, I guess.”

The mill came into view as he sped up, cutting off further conversation. They made the turnaround without breaking stride.

Jolie decided the smart thing would be to stop talking about the past for now. If she dredged up any more bad memories, he might think better of his dinner invitation and withdraw it altogether.

Since returning to Oak Ridge, she hadn’t figured out much, but there was one thing she knew for sure. She wanted to spend more time with Courtney Harrison. Lots more.

Court turned around and jogged backwards. “Come on, Princess. We’ve only got about another mile and a half.”

Jolie waved him off. She’d slowed to a walk and had one hand pressed to the stitch in her side. “You win. I’ll buy dinner.”

“Awww, a four-mile run too much for you?” Court came back to her and swung her up in his arms, twirling her around. “Want me to carry you home?”

Jolie squealed with laughter and surprise. At the same time she was all too aware of her breast against him, of Court securely holding her, one arm under her knees, the other beneath her shoulders, of his male scent enhanced by sunshine and exertion. She’d locked her arms around his neck when he’d swooped her up. She wanted, oh, how she wanted to kiss him. Her nipples tightened into buds at the thought. He was watching her, not with passion but curiosity, but as if he wanted to see what she would do next.

She didn’t know what to do. She hadn’t been able to get a handle on Court since he’d wowed her on her parents’ back porch. He’d given no indication that he had anything other than a friendly interest in her. He didn’t flirt with her, unless the donut incident counted.

She was beginning to feel like a butterfly, but not in a free or liberated sense. More like pinned down for inspection and study. She certainly wasn’t going to throw herself at Court and have him tell her he wasn’t interested.

As quickly as it came, her laughter was shattered by uncertainty. She’d be better off if Court never touched her again, she decided. There was too much room for doubt here. “You can put me down now.”

He released her, letting her slide down his body until she was standing on her own, albeit a bit unsteadily. She knew her shakiness had nothing to do with the two miles she’d just run and everything to do with Court’s touch.

She couldn’t believe how easily he turned her on. Yet he acted like he had no clue.

Having regained her equilibrium, she set off at a fast walk. She might just go ahead and run that last mile after all. Adrenaline fueled by…what? Annoyance with her own body’s reactions? Excitement? Sexual frustration?

Court kept pace with her but he also kept quiet, which gave her even more time to think. She picked up speed until she was jogging and sprinted the last quarter mile, wishing she could outrun her confusion, wishing she didn’t feel like Court was a step ahead of her all the time, that he was expecting something from her.

They reached the driveway of her parents’ house at the same time. She wished that meant they were evenly matched, but she was pretty sure Court had the edge.

He tugged on her ponytail. “You know how to give a guy a run for his money.”

“Ha. You weren’t even trying.”

“So are we still on for dinner? Say six o’clock?”

“Six it is.”

She trailed up the walk, reluctant to end her time with Court, but also anxious to get away from him. She needed to get herself under control. She also needed to decide what to wear.

Jolie remembered that old saying about the Illinois weather: If you don’t like it, stick around; it’ll change. Today had been warm but with a breeze and a touch of that fall coolness yet to come. Once the sun went down it would probably be chilly.

She’d debated about bringing the black suede skirt and vest. It was classic and one of her favorite outfits. Dinner with Court was the perfect place for it. Paired with a silver silk long-sleeved shirt, it was casually but expensively sexy. Black hose and heels showed off her legs.

As she prepared for her date, she decided she was being silly allowing Court to make her feel so off-balance. If she wanted him, she’d go on the offensive, she decided. Use every feminine trick she’d acquired to drive a man wild. Court might be turned off. He might tell her he really wasn’t interested. But at least he wouldn’t be indifferent to her anymore.

When she opened the door she knew the effort she’d gone to had paid off. Court’s eyes flashed with interest before they slid back to a friendly twinkle.

Why was he being coy? They were adults, after all, not a couple of awkward teens. Surely he must sense her interest? Why hadn’t he made a move?

She flashed him her brightest smile. She didn’t have to fake that. She was genuinely looking forward to their evening together. “I’m ready. Let me tell Mom I’m leaving.”

Court followed her to the kitchen where her mother was putting the finishing touches on their own dinner.