They say you can't go home again, but "they" have obviously never experienced the twin motivators of recent unemployment and the semiannual sidewalk sale at the local outlet mall, which combined to send me racing back to my hometown for motherly sympathy and half-price shoes.
"I've half a mind to call that Dr. Patterson and tell him exactly what I think of him," Mom said as we maneuvered through the crowds in front of the Nine West outlet.
"Mom, don't!" I cringed at the thought of my mother let loose on my former employer. Not that I didn't want him to suffer for feeling me up then firing me, but a lecture from my kindergarten-teacher mom was not what I had in mind.
"Well, someone ought to report him." She picked up a pair of red slingbacks, checked the size, then set them back down. "Or you should sue."
"I'd rather just forget about the whole thing." Yeah, it was unfair and probably against the law, but it was also humiliating. Call me a coward, but why relive that all over again? Patterson had moved on to the next victim and I was collecting unemployment and looking for another job. Life goes on and all that.
I was reaching for a pair of black T-straps when a blinding flash of light went off in my face. "What the h?" I squinted in the direction of the flash.
"Sorry about that." A man's face materialized as my vision cleared. A young, studly, and slightly familiar face think Johnny Depp with blue eyes and lighter hair, but the same soulful stare and sexy stubble. "I'm doing a photo essay on outlet malls for Texas Style magazine." He stuck out his hand. "I'm "
"Jason Burke!" I covered my mouth with my hand as recognition dawned, a flush spreading across my cheeks. I'd have recognized those lips anywhere, considering the last time I'd seen them they'd been recently planted on mine.
He froze in the act of extending his hand toward me and peered closer. I uncovered my mouth and glared at him. "Don't tell me you don't remember." Of all the humiliation. A kiss that was branded on my brain, not to mention my libido, and he'd forgotten all about it.
"Of course I remember. Kathleen. Kate. Long time no see."
Five years, two months and eighteen days, but who's counting? After that desperate goodbye kiss in the high school parking lot graduation night I hadn't laid eyes on Jason Burke, though I'd thought about him often. "So you're a reporter?" I asked, trying to play it cool.
"Photographer." He indicated the camera. "For Texas Style."
I searched my memory and came up with a vague image of a stodgy old-guard tome. Not exactly what I'd pictured for the man labeled "Most likely to go home from a party with a girl's underwear in his pocket" by the yearbook committee. "Don't they usually do stories about prizewinning cows and how to buy bonds and stuff?"
"Not anymore. We've got a new editor who's trying to shake things up, make the mag more hip."
Ahhh. And Jason had always been hip. And successful. In school, while I'd trudged along in the mediocre middle, he'd always won all the athletic honors, landed the best summer jobs and excelled in everything he tried. He still did, judging by the Oakley shades clipped at the neck of his silk polo, and the single earring glinting from his left lobe. I felt a little weak-kneed as I realized five years had only improved his good looks, and done little to dim the pathetic crush I'd had on him all through high school.
"So, what are you up to these days?" he asked.
"Oh, nothing much." I wasn't about to confess to having lost my job and moved back in with Mom.
Right on cue, the woman herself appeared at my side. She was clutching a pair of loafers and eyeballing Jason. "Who is this?" she asked.
"Jason Burke. I knew Kate in school." No mention of my surprise kiss in the parking lot, or the cowardly way I'd run off afterward.
No one calls me Kate anymore, but I decided not to correct him. I liked the way the name sounded coming from him.
He offered my mom a killer smile and a handshake. Even my mother was not immune to that smile. "How nice," she cooed, sending me a sly look. "I'll just keep shopping while you two visit." The message was clear: You've got a live one here, daughter. See if you can't reel him in.
"So, where are you working these days?"
Nowhere was too humiliating an answer. I searched frantically for some plausible occupation. My eyes lit on my cigar box purse. "I I make purses," I stammered. Okay, so I'd only made half a dozen or so for friends. Not exactly a booming business. But it sounded so artistic and hip and not boring.
"Really?" He checked out my purse, which featured a vintage postcard lacquered to an El Producto box left over from my late father's stash. "That might make a great story for the magazine."
Where was a good natural disaster when you needed one? A convenient tornado, flood or hurricane to send us scattering and end what had to be the second most embarrassing moment of my life? (After the kiss.)
"Oh, no, it's really not that interesting. Deadly dull, as a matter of fact." I looked around frantically for my mother, hoping she could rescue me, but she was three aisles over, in the athletic shoes.
"I'd like to hear more about it," he said. "Maybe we could get together sometime."
"I thought you were a photographer, not a reporter."
"I'm trying to branch out. You could be my big break."
It just got better and better, didn't it? "I really don't think there's a story there. I'm really very boring." And stupid. How had I gotten into this fix?
"We can at least get together and talk. For old times' sake?" His smile could have melted chocolate. I could feel myself getting all warm and gushy in its glow. "Come on," he pleaded. "Say you'll have dinner with me tomorrow night."
How many years had I longed to hear those words? Jason Burke was asking me the girl once known as Klutzy Kate on an honest-to-goodness date. Did I dare say yes? Or did I listen to the sensible part of my brain and run as fast as I could in the opposite direction?
I've always approached first dates the way I approach my annual search for the mythical perfect swimsuit. There's the same jittery excitement and anticipation, followed by awkwardness and ill-ease, culminating in either miserable self-loathing or if you're lucky a good, if not perfect, match.
But after finding the nerve to say yes to Jason I was plunged into twenty-four hours of obsessive worrying mixed with brain-fogging fantasy. I mean, what kind of self-respecting twenty-three-year-old still goes ga-ga over a high school crush? Especially when the crush never noticed her the entire three years she mooned after him? It didn't lift my spirits any to know that the primary reason he'd asked me out maybe the only reason was because he wanted to interview me for an article.
Still, when the doorbell rang promptly at six, Mom and I both raced to answer it. "Sit down, Kathleen," Mom said in her best schoolteacher voice. "You don't want to appear too eager."
Too eager? I'd been waiting five years for this night. How could I not be eager?
But Mom's frown sent me to the sofa, where I picked up a magazine and pretended to be Ms. Cool while fighting the urge to throw up.
"Hey, Kate, you look gorgeous."
I told you he was charming, didn't I?
I might have said the same to him, except that my heart was stuck somewhere in my throat as I gaped at him. Dressed in olive linen slacks and an olive and navy patterned silk shirt, Jason looked straight off the pages of GQ.
Only friendlier. His smile could have thawed Antarctica.
Once we were in his car some fancy sports model I managed to relax a little. After all, Jason was just a guy. This was just a date. Not even a date, really. I mean, he wanted to interview me for a magazine article. How romantic was that?
"So where are we headed?" I asked.
"I was feeling a little nostalgic. Hope you don't mind."
"Mind? No. Why would I mind?"
He headed out toward the lake, the center of our universe during those high school summers. Even though I wasn't part of the "in" crowd like Jason, I spent many sunny evenings and warm days in the water and on the docks, though I hadn't been back since my move to Houston several years before. Not much had changed in my absence. Martin's Marina still occupied most of the east side of the lake, while the beach and boardwalk filled in the rest. The restaurants and bars hugging the shore were crowded with people who'd gathered to toast the sunset and listen to a jazz band that had set up at the end of the pier.
"This sure brings back memories," I said as Jason parked in front of The Shack, the seafood restaurant that had been our unofficial hangout during the summers.
"I used to see you here all the time when we were in school," he said as we walked along the boardwalk to the restaurant's entrance. He glanced at me, his smile almost shy. "I can't believe we never spoke back then."
"Oh, please!" I laughed. "You were Mr. Popular and I was Little Miss Ordinary. I'm surprised you even knew I was alive."
"Oh, I knew you were alive all right."
His hand at my back as he steered me in the direction of the dining room sent a tremor of awareness through me. I studied him through lowered lashes as he slid into the booth across from me. Was he serious about having noticed me back in high school, or was this just a smooth line to make me let down my guard? Not that I'm normally a suspicious person, but anyone who spends time on the front lines of dating learns to be wary. I decided to steer the conversation in a safer direction. If Jason was really interested in me, he was going to have to offer up more than smooth lines.
"So tell me about your job," I said. "Magazine photography sounds so interesting."
"It's a pretty cool gig, but I'd like to get in on the editorial side of things, too. I've always liked to write." He sipped his iced tea and nodded to me. "I think a story on your purse business would be a great way for me to break in."
"Listen, about my purses "
But my confession was interrupted by the arrival of our waitress. After we'd ordered our shrimp platters, the moment was lost as Jason launched into an anecdote about the time Wally Ferguson single-handedly put an end to the all-you-could-eat shrimp special. We spent the rest of the meal catching up with our lives since high school. The conversation flowed too smoothly to interrupt with the truth about my current situation.
After dinner, he suggested a walk by the lake. The lights from boats anchored out from shore bobbed like fireflies on the water. We stood on the end of the boardwalk, out of the reach of the mercury vapor lamps on the pier, and stared out across the water. I took a deep breath, sucking in the scents of lake water, fish and French fries. "That smell sure takes me back," I said.
"Good memories, I hope." He put his arm around my shoulders.
"Mostly good." I looked up at him, amazed that my earlier nervousness had vanished somewhere between the tossed salad and this moment. Standing here with Jason's arm around me felt as natural as breathing. "How about you?"
"Some memories are better than others." His eyes met mine and something sparked between us. "I seem to remember one particular kiss, the night of high school graduation," he said. "Do you remember?"
As if I'd ever forget one of the most daring and delightful moments of my life.
"Yes."
He turned to face me, eyes still locked to mine. "Care to repeat the experience?"
Kiss Jason? I stared at him, my knees suddenly wobbly. I'd like nothing better. But I couldn't do it with him thinking things about me that weren't true. I took a deep breath, trying to get it together enough to make my confession. "I'd like that very much," I said. "But there's something I have to say first."
"Oh?" He frowned. "What's that?"
"I didn't quit my job to start my own business. I was laid off."
His expression relaxed. "I know a lot of people in the same boat. It seems to be a trend to take your package and start your own business." He put his hands on my waist and pulled me closer. "Smart move if you can swing it."
Right. Package. The only package I got was the box with all the stuff from my desk in it and directions to the nearest unemployment office. It was hard to think with his arms sliding around me, his head bending to mine . "Jason!"
He raised his head, looking slightly annoyed. "I thought you wanted to kiss me."
"I do." Boy, did I ever. But I had to get this out of the way first. "About my purses "
"Let's not talk about that now." He angled his mouth toward mine again. "I've waited a long time for this, and I don't want to put it off another second."
One minute I was standing on the boardwalk, struggling with my conscience, and the next minute Jason's arms were around me, his mouth on mine. The moment left me light-headed.
At least that's how it seemed from my perspective. Maybe I was only dizzy because I stopped breathing the minute our lips met. How could I breathe when every nerve was focused on that kiss?
My memory hadn't misled me. Whether it was his stellar technique or all the hours I'd spent fantasizing about a moment like this, I'd have to say this kiss even supplanted the original in terms of physical thrills and emotional enjoyment.
Some women rate kisses according to how much they tingle or how hot they get. My personal measurement is something I call the "float factor." How far off the ground do I feel when I kiss a guy? Most leave me flat-footed, a big fat zero on my scale. A good one might lift me a few inches, great ones a little higher.
But Jason's kiss I'd give it a good twelve inches. A new record.
After some indeterminate time we broke apart. Jason smiled at me. I returned the look, though I was half-afraid I wore the giddy, slack-jawed expression of someone who's overdosed on laughing gas. I was trying to think of something smart and witty to say when someone shouted my name from across the boardwalk.
"Kate! Kate Gordon!"
Jason and I turned to see a tall blonde in a floral miniskirt and bright yellow tank top striding across the boardwalk toward us. "Who is that?" Jason said.
"Pamela Marzetti."
"That's Pam Marzetti?"
The woman herself descended on us in a cloud of expensive perfume. "It's so good to see you," she said, giving me a hug. She turned to Jason. "Jason Burke, is that you? What a surprise."
"Hi, Pam." I didn't blame him for looking dazed. In high school, Pam Marzetti had been even lower on the social totem pole than I was. A brainiac with no fashion sense, she'd been chosen for one of those makeover shows a few years back and been transformed into the beauty before us. Standing next to her, I felt like a troll doll.
Pam scarcely glanced at me. She was too busy eyeing Jason as if he were a hot fudge sundae with a four-karat diamond ring on top. "I didn't know you were back in town," she purred. "We should get together sometime."
"Wouldn't that be great?" Not. I flashed a phony smile. "Great to see you, Pam. We'd better be going." I grabbed Jason's arm and tugged Jason toward the parking lot.
"I can't believe that was really Pam Marzetti," he said as he unlocked the car and opened the door for me.
"It was. Good old Pam." Plus several thousand dollars' worth of silicone and surgery. I wasn't about to let her distract Jason any further not with my lips still tingling from that amazing kiss. I smiled and turned toward him. "Funny all the twists and turns life takes like the two of us meeting again after all these years."
He grinned. "I have a confession to make."
"Oh?" I tensed. As one who doesn't like to make confessions, I'm not real comfortable being on the receiving end of them either.
"I didn't just happen to take your picture at the outlet mall yesterday."
"You didn't?"
"No. I saw you shopping and recognized you and thought the picture would be a good way to break the ice."
"So there wasn't a story about the outlet mall?"
"Oh, that part was true. It just turned out to be a good way to reconnect with you."
He'd gone out of his way to hook up with me? "And the part about wanting to do a story on my purses?" With any luck that would be a fabrication, too, and I could hold on to my deception-in-the-name-of-dignity a little longer.
"Oh, that part's definitely true. It'll make a great story." He pulled into my driveway and cut the engine.
"I'd ask you in for a drink or something, but it's a little awkward, since I'm staying with my mom," I said.
"I understand." He leaned across and opened my door. "I'll see you safely inside and say good-night."
My mother had left the front porch light on, but we stood to one side, partly in shadow, and shared a good-night kiss that proved the one on the boardwalk hadn't been a fluke. Jason raised his head and looked into my eyes. "I'm glad I ran into you yesterday," he said. "I always knew there was more to you than the girl I knew in high school."
"What do you mean?" More as in fatter? Prettier, nicer, more fun?
"Well, look at you. You're an artist with an up-and-coming business. I can't wait to write this article and get to know you better."
Why did he have to spoil a great moment by bringing up that article again? I cleared my throat. "I have a confession to make, too," I said. Time to gut it up and convince him of the truth.
But could I really admit that the wonderful impression he had of me was all wrong? Or did I let the deception go on a little longer while I enjoyed a few more nights like this one, and a few more of his magical kisses?
"Jason, listen. This purse thing. It's not really a business. It's only a hobby. I haven't really sold that many."
"You're just being modest, Kate." He patted my shoulder.
I grabbed his hand. "No! Listen to me. I'm not the successful, artistic entrepreneur you think I am. I'm just an unemployed receptionist with a weird hobby." Okay, so maybe I was being a little hard on myself, but the man just wasn't getting it, was he?
He frowned. "I guess that does make things a little different."
My stomach dropped to somewhere around my ankles. I'd gone and done it now, hadn't I? The next time I saw Jason, he'd be running in the other direction.
"I'll just tweak the story a little. You're an up-and-coming artist, looking for your big break. So what if your business isn't huge yet? When my article comes out you'll have more orders than you can handle." He smiled. "And I'll get the kind of attention for my writing I've been searching for."
So this was all about him after all. I might have known. Jason had always been ambitious. In high school he won a "young entrepreneur" award after he'd formed a co-op of students who hired out to run errands for people.
With a wave, he headed to his car. I watched him back out of the driveway, feeling deflated. Though Jason still saw me as someone who could be successful, what would his editor and everyone else think? I cringed to think how disappointed he'd be if his "big story" turned out to be a big flop.
Despite my misgivings about the whole thing, the next week found me in front of Jason's camera, demonstrating for him and his future readers the "art" of making cigar box purses. Thanks to my father's fondness for stogies and my mother's pack-rat tendencies, I had a huge supply of raw materials on hand. While Jason clicked away and asked questions, I decoupaged a Swisher Sweets container with old magazine cutouts. Some shellac, beads and a fancy tassel later, I had another creation.
"That's fantastic," Jason said, snapping shots of the finished product. "My editor is going to love this. In fact, she's probably going to want one."
"I'll be happy to make her one." To tell the truth, I'd really gotten into making the purses again. With no real employment to keep me occupied and job interviews scarce, I spent several hours every day making purses. So far I'd sold them to half the teachers at my mother's school and had orders for more. Maybe Jason was on to something after all.
One thing for sure, I enjoyed his company more and more, in spite of my doubts about where our relationship was headed. The smart, handsome kid I'd admired in school had grown into a smarter, even more handsome man.
"So how did you end up working at Texas Style?" I asked one night as we shared a pizza at my mom's kitchen table. Mom was at some school function and we had the house to ourselves. "I thought you were going to be a lawyer."
"I was, but then once I started my prelaw studies I realized I really hated it. What I really liked was taking pictures and writing stories." He tossed a chunk of pizza crust back into the box. "And here I am. What about you? What did you study in college?"
"Business. But when I got out of school the only job I could find was as a receptionist in a doctor's office." I added another sliver of crust to the growing pile in the box. "The plan was to work my way up to office manager, but it didn't happen." Thanks to a sleaze of a doctor. I couldn't help thinking if I'd handled things better, stood up for myself more or behaved differently, this wouldn't have happened. But it was too late now.
"And now you're making purses instead. That's really great."
I looked toward the other end of the table, where six purses in various stages of completion shared space with jars of varnish and plastic bins of supplies. "It is?"
"Sure. It takes a strong person to have the courage to go after her dreams."
Right. The strong woman Jason thought I was wouldn't have gotten fired in the first place. I shook my head. "It's really not like that at all."
"You don't give yourself enough credit."
I didn't know whether to be touched or ticked-off by his idealistic image of me. On one hand, who doesn't want to impress the man of her dreams? On the other, he was bound to end up disillusioned sooner or later.
"Don't look so down. I just paid you a compliment." He scooted his chair closer to mine and stroked my cheek with his thumb.
"I know. Thanks." I smiled, not that hard to do when he touched me this way. No matter how shaky I felt about our ever-deepening friendship, I couldn't deny the growing physical attraction between us. When Jason kissed me, all my doubts about the two of us were squeezed out by my growing desire for him.
"I've really enjoyed working with you on this story," he said when he finally ended the kiss.
Uh-oh. Here it comes. The time where he tells me it's time to move on. I swallowed hard. "Yeah. It's been great."
"I hope we'll keep seeing each other now that the article is done."
You do? But I wasn't enough of a dork to say that. Inside, though, I was shouting for joy. So he hadn't been hanging out with me solely for the sake of the story and his own career. Jason really did have feelings for me!
I gave him my most sultry smile. "What did you have in mind?"
"How about coming back to my place with me tonight?"
Though I should have seen the question coming, it took me by surprise. Not that I hadn't fantasized about this moment on many occasions. I knew good and well he was talking about more than stopping by for tea and cookies, and physically I was definitely ready.
But my annoyingly overdeveloped conscience (or maybe my sense of self-preservation) insisted on throwing cold water on my libido. So my dream man was inviting me back to his place to Do the Deed, but why? Because it seemed like a fun thing to do at that time? Because he cared for me and wanted to take the relationship to the next level? Or because the idea of being with the independent, gutsy, go-for-her-dreams gal he thought I was turned him on?
Or even, possibly, all of the above? So where did that leave this not-so-gutsy, go-with-the-flow gal? Did I go home with Jason and see where the night led?
Or did I take my mother's advice, play hard-to-get and likewise play it safe?
Where's a crystal ball or even a Magic Eight Ball when you need one?
I decided I'd spent too much time lately playing it safe. Or maybe Jason seeing me as daring made me want to take a few more chances. So I wrapped my arms around him a little tighter and looked into his eyes. "Yes," I said. "I'd love to go back to your place with you."
I don't remember much about the drive to his place, or what his apartment looked like. What I remember is him pulling me close and helping me out of my blouse. While he fumbled with the buttons, I undid his shirt. There was something incredibly tender about undressing each other this way. It made me feel even closer to him, and those first moments of nakedness less awkward.
There were still moments of uncertainly, times when we didn't move exactly in synch or we weren't exactly sure what the other person wanted. But we were able to laugh about the missteps and correct the mistakes. Jason kissed my side where he accidentally jabbed me with his elbow, and from there moved on to kissing me all over, his mouth and tongue communicating in a language my body understood perfectly.
And when he knelt between my legs and entered me, I looked into his eyes and felt filled in a way I never had before.
I've heard people say sex is better when you love the one you're with. Not that I've made a habit of sleeping around, mind you; I always thought I was in love with the men I'd slept with before. But that night with Jason was better than any other night I'd spent with a man. I couldn't help wondering if the crush I'd kept under wraps for so many years had evolved into something much more.
Afterwards I lay in his arms, smiling even as I drifted to sleep. I was glad we'd waited to get together it would never have been this good in high school when they were both so young.
If only I could get my life together. If only the way I really lived resembled the impression Jason had of me the impression I'd allowed him to have. What was it about me that couldn't seem to stand up and say what I really meant? I'd had trouble speaking my mind to Dr. Patterson and now I couldn't find a way to tell Jason the truth so that he'd believe me.
I hadn't come up with any answers by the next morning, so I pushed the questions aside and focused on enjoying our time together. After an encore of the previous evening's performance he offered to cook breakfast. "I can make pancakes," he said. "They're even good. I promise."
"I love pancakes," I said, lying in bed and watching him dress. Frankly, I'd like almost anything if I got to sit across the table from him while I ate it. I was finishing up my third pancake when my cell phone rang. Thinking it was probably my mom, I fished it out of my purse, prepared to reassure her that I was fine without revealing exactly where I was. She'd find out eventually, but for now this was my little secret.
"Katherine? This is Phoebe Frame. How are you?"
Phoebe worked as a transcriptionist at the medical clinic where I'd recently been employed. Why in the world would she be calling me. "Hi, Phoebe? What's up?"
"How would you like to help see that Patterson gets what he deserves?" Dr. Patterson? I should have known this had something to do with him. I glanced at Jason, who was watching me, a questioning look on his face. "What are you talking about?" Was someone filing a lawsuit against him? Did they need me to testify? Telling my story in front of a bunch of strangers would be mortifying, but maybe I could do it.
"I have a plan to get back at Patterson for all the humiliation he's caused the women in his office."
Phoebe sounded positively triumphant. I cradled the phone closer to my ear and gave Jason a reassuring smile. "Tell me."
Phoebe explained her plan. It was daring and outrageous. The kind of thing I would never have thought of. "So, are you in?" she asked.
Could I really go through with my part in Phoebe's scheme? If I didn't would Patterson continue to get away with his bad behavior? But how could I possibly face him again, when just the thought of him made my knees quake? "I I don't know, Phoebe," I said. "It sounds like you don't really need my help with this."
"Of course I need your help. And this is your chance to stand up to the old lecher and tell him exactly what you think of him."
Maybe I didn't want to stand up to Patterson. Maybe I just wanted to forget I'd ever known him, and go on with my life. "I'll think about it," I said.
"Please. I really want you in on this."
"I'll let you know in a day or two."
Jason looked up from clearing the table when I hung up the phone. "What was that all about? You've gone all pale."
"Oh. A friend in Houston asked me to help her with a a project she's working on." I stacked my silverware on my plate and carried it to the sink. He followed. "What kind of project?"
"It's kind of complicated." I ran water over the dishes and added soap.
"She wanted my help with something related to my old job." It wasn't the whole truth, but until I figured out what I wanted to do, I couldn't tell him more. "I'm just not sure I'm the right person to help her."
He picked up a plate and began drying it. "Whatever it is, I'm sure you'll make the right decision. You always were smarter than most people." I stared at him, dumbfounded. "That's one of the sweetest things anyone's ever said to me."
He grinned and kissed my cheek. "I meant it."
I loved that Jason had such faith in me, but was I smart enough to make the right decision here? Should I go back to Houston and face Patterson, or put the past firmly behind me and get on with my promising future with Jason?
"Kate, are you sure you don't want to tell me what's bugging you?" Jason asked when the dishes were done.
Maybe talking to Jason about this would help me make up my mind. I took a shaky breath.
"All right. Then I'll tell you." I faced him and looked into his eyes. "When I told you I was laid off from my job, that wasn't exactly the whole story."
"Were you fired?" He shrugged. "People get fired all the time. It's not always their fault."
"No, this wasn't my fault. At least, I don't think it was. Some people might see things differently."
"I'm not going to see anything at all if you don't tell me."
"Right. I'm getting there." Jeez, why was this so tough? Spit it out, girl! "My boss, the doctor, was a womanizing philanderer and I was his next conquest. At least, I was supposed to be. Only I kept turning him down. So he fired me."
The longer I spoke, the more upset Jason became. By the time I finished his jaw was clenched, and I shrank back at the anger in his eyes.
"I don't believe it. You hear about this stuff, but you think in this day and age...." He shook his head, like a dog trying to rid itself of a pesky fly. "That son of a b-"
"Jason, it's okay!" I reached out but didn't touch him. His anger on my behalf thrilled me, but I didn't want things to get out of hand. "I'm okay."
His eyes met mine, the anger softening some. "What are you going to do? Have you thought of suing?"
"I thought about it. But it would take more money and time than I'm willing to give. I would rather put all this behind me and go on with my life."
"He shouldn't get away with something like this."
"That's what Phoebe said."
"Phoebe?"
"Phoebe Frame. The woman who called. She wants me to help her with a plan she has to get back at Patterson."
"Are you going to help her?"
I hesitated. Though I'd told myself I could forget about what had happened with Patterson, I knew I'd always feel guilty about letting him go unpunished. And what about the other women who might be his victims? I felt obligated to do something for them as well as for myself.
I looked at Jason. He had such faith in me; knowing that gave me more faith in myself. I nodded. "I'm going to try."
"Do you want me to go with you?"
I shook my head. "No."
"Because you're afraid you'll chicken out?"
I laughed. "Maybe that's part of it, but mainly because I think...this is something I need to do by myself."
He took both my hands in his. "All right. But I'll be waiting here when you get back. And I'll want to hear all about it.
As long as I lived, I'll never forget the look on Dr. Patterson's face when Phoebe unveiled her plan. And at the Texas Medical Association's annual convention, no less. When she and I and the other women he'd harassed confronted him as a group, in front of his peers, everyone saw him for the coward he'd been all along. Patterson would be lucky if he ever practiced medicine in the state again.
But even that triumph didn't compare to the joy I felt when I told Jason about the experience when we met at his place two nights later.
"I'm really proud of you," he said. "I knew you could do it."
"I wasn't so sure, myself, but I made it through and I'm glad I did it."
"I have some good news too." He took a large manilla envelope from the bar and handed it to me. "Take a look."
My heart fluttered with excitement as I opened the envelope and slid out the contents. My own smiling face stared back at me, beneath a headline: Artist Didn't Let Her Dreams Go Up in Smoke.
"It's the new edition of Texas Style," he said, admiring it over my shoulder. "My editor loved it."
"Jason, we have to talk."
"About what?" His smile vanished, replaced by a wary look.
"About a lot of things." I took his hand and led him to the sofa, amazed at how calm I felt. I guess standing up to Patterson had made me see how important it was to say exactly what you meant to people, and to correct wrong impressions before it was too late. Maybe if I'd come down hard on the doctor the first time he made a pass at me, instead of trying to pretend it never happened, things wouldn't have ended up the way they had.
"So what's going on?" he asked.
I looked him in the eye, and spoke very clearly. "Jason, I am not an entrepreneur. I don't have a business making cigar box purses. I was simply too ashamed to admit that I was unemployed. Making purses is a hobby for me, not a business."
"You're wrong."
The certainty in his voice startled me. "Jason, I'm telling you, there is no business. I let you think that so I could continue seeing you."
"You do have a business. Let me show you something." He jumped up and retrieved a basket from the bar and brought it to me. "These are all orders for your purses. Your mom gave them to me so I could surprise you with them."
I sifted through the pile of letters. "There must be a hundred of these."
"At least." He grinned. "Maybe you didn't start out with a business, but you have one now."
"Then you're not angry that I didn't tell you the truth?"
"You didn't lie. You just underestimated yourself."
"Or you overestimated me."
"Not possible." He pulled me close. "I'll tell you a secret."
"What's that?"
"That night after graduation, when you kissed me? It made me realize I'd seriously underestimated you. I know we were just kids, but that kiss really...moved me. I felt like such an idiot wasting all those months and years chasing after other girls when I could have been with you. We were both going off to college and I thought it was too late. But I promised myself if I ever got a second chance with you I wouldn't make that mistake again."
So the magic of that long-ago kiss hadn't been all one-sided after all. I threw my arms around him. "Jason, I think I love you."
He grinned. "There you go, doubting yourself again. I know I love you."
The kiss we shared then surpassed all previous kisses on the float factor meter.
But we've vowed not to stop there. We're going for a record. I figure we have the rest of our lives to do it.
The End