Keeping Pace Page 2

  My coworker studied me, as if deciding for herself whether or not I needed her help. Her scrutiny gave me the boost I needed to get back on track. We needed to make plans for the upcoming seminar, and if a single mistake was allowed to slip through, ever-helpful Beth would take over.

  “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.” I directed everyone’s attention to the whiteboard, which was excruciatingly stark. “We’ve verified Mr. Stroh’s availability for the dates the college’s conference center is also at our disposal. What’s going on with advertising?”

  “Regina,” Beth said, looking at the steno pad on the conference table in front of her, “the problem with bringing Mr. Stroh in has nothing to do with the lack of advertising. Basically, we don’t have the supporters we need to show that the school system endorses his lecture.”

  I brushed a hand through my hair, pushing back strands which should have been cut weeks ago. “Who wouldn’t support a man who teaches kids ‘stranger danger’ in a fun, effective way? If he has a system for keeping them safe, we would be stupid not to take advantage of it.”

  Bringing this lecture to our town should have been a walk in the park, but between Beth trying to use it as an excuse to climb over me in the district’s hierarchy and the fact our residents wanted to live in denial about the population growth, I was swimming upstream.

  Mr. Ken Stroh was a little-known speaker, but I stood behind his message one hundred percent. I wanted with every breath in me to have him, or at least someone like him, come to our community and help us keep our kids safe. Just because I didn’t have any of my own didn’t stop me from feeling a sense of communal responsibility for them.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, Regina, but you aren’t the voice of the system. If you don’t get someone higher than you to back Mr. Stroh, this conference is sunk before it’s even begun.”

  A weight settled in my stomach. As much as Beth and I disliked each other, she was as passionate about this project as I, and I knew she was right. “What would you suggest? How should we go about getting this project pushed through?”

  She cast her gaze downward, studying that damned steno pad again. “Not sure.”

  Liar. The word stayed lodged in my throat, however. “Let’s set this topic aside for now. There are still details you need to finalize. I’ll work on securing the support we need. If I have to knock on the door of every single person with a school-aged child, we will be moving forward.”

  Linda gave me an encouraging smile as I leaned into my chair and allowed our project to take a backseat to the other issues at hand. Around us our other coworkers talked about holiday parties and teacher workdays. Their voices droned in and out of my consciousness, because I barely paid them any mind. I had better things to keep me occupied.

  “Regina, can I see you a minute?”

  The voice of Lou, my longtime friend and boss, broke my reverie. Only then did I notice the meeting was over, most of the staff having left. The few who lingered laughed and chatted in small groups. “Sure.”

  He’s a few years older than I, the years treating him exceedingly well. Even when Patrick was alive, Lou had the ability to make my heart pound a little harder. With those soft blue eyes and easy smile, he had the look of someone who rescued orphaned puppies and mended baby birds’ wings with every minute of his free time. One pathetic romp in the hay with him had cured me of lustful, salivating thoughts for the most part, but even I was alive enough to recognize his raw sexual appeal. His promotion as my boss cured me of any urge to try for round two on a personal level.

  “What’s going on?” I asked him when we were finally alone. I caught a few curious stares from coworkers as they milled out of the conference room, but I ignored them.

  He crossed his arms over his chest, the motion allowing light to reflect off his gold watch. “I’m getting a little concerned about this project. It’s not going the way you want.”

  Understatement of the year. “No—it’s not a problem. We’ll get Stroh in front of our kids. I just need to be a little more assertive.”

  He blinked at me, a long lazy closing of his lids that I’d seen him use when biding for time. Lou needed to gather some inner fortitude for bad news, and that stupid little move worked when used on other people. “How would you feel about handing this off to someone else and tackling something new?”

  I folded my arms over my chest to match his. “Like what?”

  “What would interest you?”

  My mouth dropped open before I shut it again. Why would he allow me a choice of projects to lead right in the middle of this one? It wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.

  On a rush of dawning horror, my understanding bloomed. I’d seen this coming but tried to deny it. I’d been so caught up in my own stubborn belief in a successful venture, I’d failed to recognize what was happening around me. Tamping down rising irritation, I tightened my hands into fists. “And who would you be handing Stroh to? I’ve worked a lot of long hours for this.”

  “Beth’s been working—”

  “No.”

  His taken-aback look was almost laughable. “No?”

  “Not Beth. Anyone else, but not her.”

  “Look Regina, this isn’t personal. She’s worked with you for the entire project. She knows what’s needed. There isn’t someone better qualified to take over right in the middle.”

  My throat tightened. “To take over… We’re not just talking about my project, are we? Beth’s being promoted, right?”

  Soft blue eyes softened further. “It’s not personal,” he repeated gently. “There’s a lot of potential there that we should tap into. She’s young, with a lot of bright ideas. She isn’t afraid to think outside the box.”

  “I see.” I didn’t, but if I didn’t respond with something neutral, I’d start screaming.

  “If you want, you can still assist her with it. You laid the groundwork, after all.”

  I knew he was trying to be helpful, but being asked to assist on a project I’d birthed made me want to retch. “Thanks, Lou.”

  “It’s not official yet, so don’t say anything to anyone. Not even Beth. I just thought you should know. Think about what you want to work on next. I’ll see to it that you’re the lead.”

  I nodded, inclining my face away from his. My expression would not be gracious, and he didn’t need to see that.

  He leaned forward, bringing his hand toward mine. At the last second, he hesitated, and the moment’s pause must have cautioned him against touching me. What might have been a friendly gesture, or for all I knew, a romantic one, dissolved into nothingness. Instead Lou gathered himself and left without saying another word to me.

  I swallowed down tears threatening to form and bit back every curse word in my vocabulary. It was all I could do to shut myself in my office, out of sight of curious eyes and oblivious coworkers. I couldn’t have a temper tantrum, but I could sulk in private.

  As much as I tried to focus on the Stroh project and its many problems, Beth and her insane promotion and my stagnant career for the rest of the day, every once in a while my work-oriented shell cracked and allowed snippets of yesterday to break through. By the time I shut down the computer for the day, I’d come no closer to figuring out how to react to Beth’s news once it broke to everyone else, and was simultaneously more frustrated about how to deal with my next door neighbor. If I even had to deal with him. Except sensual memories clung to me like a jealous lover, refusing to let go. The most haunting of them all was the final invitation he’d given at the end. Same time tomorrow.

  Any sane woman would simply go about her business without giving him a second thought. Nothing said I had to venture into the backyard tonight, and as far as I knew, he didn’t reside in the neighboring house permanently. Odds were good we could live next door to each other for another year without running into each other. Even if we did, the obligatory wave was all I had to offer him.

  I almost hated myself for being so obses
sed. I wanted to think about whether or not I had a future with the school district, and if I did, what project I should take on next. Every once in a while I considered the possibility of staying at my job, if only for the tuition reimbursement, so I could pursue another career altogether. Always, though, I was brought back to my house’s deck. To my view. And I was all the more aroused for it.

  By the time I stepped through my front door, my mood fluctuated between envy toward Beth, anger over the loss of the Stroh project, irritability that I’d been so damned turned on with a pathetic means for relief—also known as my trusty vibrator—and just plain old fatigue. I kicked off my pumps, choosing to pad around my house in stocking-covered feet. As was my habit, I made my way into the kitchen, picked a new bottle of wine and uncorked it.

  My gaze strayed to the sliding glass door leading to the deck, and I found myself turning toward the clock almost immediately afterward. I still had another half hour to go before my neighbor’s invitation would be in effect. How badly I wanted to throw responsibility to the wind and reward my monumentally crappy day with some eye candy. I teetered between wanting to give in to lustful urges and being a responsible adult. Then again, what if he’d just been fooling around when he’d extended his offer? How foolish would I feel for going out there to find out he would never show?

  With a sigh, I finally relinquished voyeuristic fantasies and made my way back into the kitchen. There I poured my requisite glass of wine and decided to appease my carnal appetite with some good old comfort food in the way of delivery. Five pounds from now I might regret drowning my sorrows in food, but right now it was the only hug available to me. Just as I started to make my way to the telephone, menu in hand, however, the doorbell rang.

  “Mrs. Pace?” Justin—Jason?—Jack from next door stood there looking even more obscenely good-looking clothed and in person. Imagine my surprise.

  Last night I hadn’t been able to view his intense green eyes, the color fooling me in the darkness, or the light smattering of stubble along a strong jawline. I’d failed to recognize how tall he was or the immense size of his hands and feet. While I had been afforded a glorious view of his thick muscles, I saw now how clothes hid his physique.

  “Can I help you?” I asked after finding my voice, hoping I didn’t sound as stunned as I felt.

  “I’m Joshua Smith. From next door. We talked a little last night.”

  That he could stand there and so boldly call what we’d done last night “talking” almost made me smile. “Ah. I recognize you now. The clothes threw me for a bit.”

  His ears had the decency to turn shades. “Well, that’s why I’m here. I’m afraid I let one too many beers get in the way of my common sense. I…wanted to apologize for what I’d done. Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable in your own home—backyard, I suppose.”

  He had no idea how wrong those words were. “Apology accepted. Thank you.”

  Something about his sincere mortification deflated my ego. All day I’d imagined how this young man lusted after me with the same fervor I wanted him. I’d allowed myself to believe that when I came home this evening, I’d find him reclining in the poolside chair, naked as the day he was born, hard and ready for me. Maybe I’d watch surreptitiously or maybe I’d be direct by standing right in his sightline. Either way, I guess I’d made up my mind to take him up on his offer.

  Joshua lifted his hand, which held a bottle of red wine. “The guy told me this is a good one. I hope you’ll accept it. I feel really bad about what happened.”

  I chanced a quick glance at the label as he held it outstretched. Indeed he hadn’t been steered wrong. Moderately priced, it was still from a good winery. The burgundy liquid would go very well with my twice-bruised ego, but I didn’t feel right about taking it from him. “There’s no need, you know.”

  “I would feel better if you took it. Please.”

  “Tell me this first. Do you feel bad because of what you did or because I saw you?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “I feel guilty for embarrassing you.”

  “And if I say I’m not embarrassed?”

  “Then I can’t say I feel guilty about any of it.”

  My mouth curved up in a smile. This was the young man I’d watched last night. Arrogant yet with a sense of righteous justification held within his stance. Now bolstered within his statement. It was enough to remove some of the bruising from my own mood.

  I took a step back and mildly wondered if I saw a part of his ego deflate. I made way for him to enter my home, however. “Joshua, why don’t you come on in and share a glass of that wine with me? I hate to drink alone if I can avoid it.”

  Chapter Three

  Thoughts of whether he could see the gray strands in my scalp consumed me as we made our way into the kitchen. I also wondered what I was doing by inviting him in. So what if he was a little flirtatious? What good-looking man at his age wasn’t? If I tried to make it out to be more than that, I might make a fool of myself. Something to ponder.

  We rounded the wall where I kept eight orchids on display, those thoughts chasing me.

  “These are gorgeous,” he said. “I’m afraid I have a black thumb—anything I try to grow just withers and dies.”

  “Orchids are easy,” I replied. “You just have to know how to handle them.”

  “That could be said about any number of things.”

  “Good point.”

  I withdrew a corkscrew from one of the kitchen drawers before we’d fully ventured through the doorway. Many modern people enjoyed using one of those Rabbits to uncork a bottle, but I prefer the old-fashioned method. The only Rabbit I needed in my life was battery operated. “Take opening a bottle, for example,” I said.

  Josh took the corkscrew from me gently. “There is definitely an art in handling this task.” Fascinated, I watched him slice the foil around the cork and then dig the metal screw into the spongy plug. After a few quick twists, he pulled upward with ease, dislodging the cork.

  The amazement must have shown on my face. Wine sommeliers and connoisseurs tended to be the only people I knew of who moved with such deft confidence. “I waited tables as an undergrad,” he said with a wink. “If a table ordered wine, they tended to tip bigger. I learned how to pour a bottle properly in a hurry.”

  “I take it you’re no longer in school?” His confirmation would help me feel a little better. Despite the casual atmosphere we’d generated between us, his youth still taunted me.

  “Grad school. Almost done.”

  “That’s amazing.” And I meant it. My education didn’t go further than undergraduate schooling, despite my constantly telling myself I should return for a higher degree.

  “Oh. I’m sorry… I should have asked…”

  His sudden change of topic and subsequent confusion baffled me until I followed his line of sight. In my excitement, I’d forgotten the glass of wine sitting next to the telephone. Not far beyond it, the open bottle of wine I’d set there earlier told a story of its own. Now there were two bottles open. “Don’t worry. Good wine never goes to waste.”

  “It looks like you were going to order dinner too, though.” Joshua looked chagrined. “I can’t seem to do any of this right.”

  “Any of what?”

  “It’s just me over there, and I was kind of wondering if maybe you’d care for some company.” He dropped his gaze, something on the parquet flooring suddenly needing his immediate scrutiny. “I mean, if you weren’t busy.”

  My pulse began to race. I tried to put him at ease because I was touched by his boyish charm. “I’d love to, and since you brought the wine, dinner is on me. Take your pick from the menu, and we’ll place an order.”

  Conversation flowed easily as we waited, which seemed odd to me. I thought there would be lots of stops and starts, all awkward.

  By the time the food came, the bottle Joshua brought was empty. I can’t say who had most of it, but I couldn’t recall my glass ever being empty. Making my way to the door to p
ay the deliveryman took a slight bit of concentration on my part. I didn’t want to appear buzzed in front of Joshua, despite the very same being true. His gaze rarely left me, to the point I felt its heated caress as I walked away from him.

  He made himself at home, opening the containers and sorting through my kitchen drawers after I placed the bags on the table. My mouth watered as we were assaulted by the scents of meat swimming in rich sauces and smoky char-grilled vegetables.

  “So wait, you did all the work and they gave your project to someone else? What a slap in the face,” he said, continuing the conversation we’d had before we’d been interrupted by the doorbell.

  “Exactly!” I don’t recall when I’d started telling him about Beth. Maybe sometime around when he’d asked what I did for a living. Tongue loosened with alcohol, I’d easily dished every bit of the office rivalry with him. I don’t know if I would have been so bold under other circumstances, but his attention made talking to him about it too easy.

  “So what are you going to do about it?” He dished out the food onto plates, and settled into his chair.

  I bit into an asparagus spear. “That’s the problem, I don’t really know. The PC thing to do would be congratulate her and take a back seat.”

  We ate in silence for a few minutes, taking sips of wine between bites. Finally he said, “But you’ve worked hard on a project you’re passionate about.”

  “And that’s why I’m tempted to assist.” I gave an exaggerated shudder as I said the last word.

  Joshua laughed, then turned serious. “It wouldn’t make you less of a person to help the project succeed. It’s about the kids. Not about what’s going on between you and Beth.”

  Of course he was right, but to hear him say it made something inside me melt. At once he didn’t seem as young as I’d thought only yesterday, but on par with any of my peers. Sure, some wrinkles around the eyes or a few strands of gray hair would have helped, but my uneasiness seemed to have vanished. “You think and act very much like an old soul. Has anyone ever told you that?”