Public Displays Of Affection

Chapter Ten

Charlotte checked her watch. She had fifty-two minutes until she had to pick up the kids at school, and with a quick survey of the yard she calculated she could finish mowing and still have time to use the power trimmer along the driveway.

It was truly hot today-the first hot day of spring- and the sun felt deliriously good on her skin. She checked her chest to make sure she wasn't getting red, hoping the SPF 20 would do the trick, and could almost hear the freckles popping to life between her boobs. She adjusted the cups of her swimsuit top for modesty's sake.

Charlotte bumped along, rock music blaring from her earphones, and she grinned with pleasure. She didn't mind mowing the lawn. Kurt had always done it, so she'd only recently discovered how relaxing it was. It was like meditating, only with engine noise. And what a sense of accomplishment a freshly mown lawn provided! All those straight green rows! It was infinitely more satisfying than housework. With housework, no matter how many hours you put in, the kids could erase any evidence of your labor in minutes. But lawns stayed mown up to a whole week! Not even two kids and a dog could unmow a lawn.

Charlotte breathed deep, loving the smell of cut grass, the feel of the sweat beading on her forehead under the brim of her ball cap. As she rounded the side of the utility shed, she cocked her head in surprise. Now that was odd-what in the world had happened to her honeysuckle bush?

Charlotte turned off the riding mower, pulled off her headset, and charged over toward the flowering vines. It looked like it had been run over. Mutilated.

She stomped into the Connors' yard and bent down for a closer examination. At least half of it had been chopped to the stalks!

"Sorry about the bush."

Charlotte jumped. She spun around, saw Joe, and immediately checked to see if he was armed. No gun today. Then she checked to see if LoriSue was with him. She wasn't. Then she let her eyes move to his face. And she stared at him in awe.

The man standing there in the sunshine, his hands at his sides, his bare toes wriggling in the grass, was indeed the man she'd known all those years ago. But he was no longer young. His eyes were deeper. They had mellowed. They were maybe just a little sad.

Joe smiled, and she tried to place what was different about that smile. Maybe it was the addition of the little goatee, which provided a neat frame around that wide, provocative mouth of his. She liked it In fact, Charlotte could still feel how the short whiskers had brushed against her lips when he kissed her. The longer hair that curled at the nape of his neck and behind his ears-that suited him, too. It gave him that just-rolled-out-of-the-sacklook.

Talk about overkill.

This man seemed so out of place just inches away from her, right there in broad daylight. She was used to seeing him only in the dark recesses of her imagination, at night, through a fog of desire.

"You've got a nice singing voice, Charlotte."

"Huh?"

"Just now. When you were mowing."

"You could hear me sing over the mower? I had no idea I was that loud."

Joe's mouth quirked into a half smile. "Well, I couldn't tell if it was Ozzy Osborne or the Osmonds, but I heard you all right."

Charlotte became painfully aware of her own clothing choice for the afternoon: denim cutoffs, grass-stained sneakers, a pink bikini top, and Hank's yellow Minton Little League hat. She didn't know what to do with her hands, so she grabbed onto a decapitated honeysuckle twig,

"You did this to my bush?

He winced. "Sorry about that."

"But I love honeysuckle! Why did you do that?"

Joe took a step closer to her. "Do you have a minute?

"For what?" She watched him run a hand through his hair like he was mustering his courage. It seemed that thirteen years ago he'd been a hell of a lot more sure of himself than he was today.

'Talk. I think maybe I need to explain something to you."

"Explain what? LoriSue's little welcome-to-the-neighborhood visits?"

He tilted his head and stared at her. "You know about those?"

Charlotte was getting steamed. "Sure do, Joe. I saw her leaving your place yesterday. Hope you're getting everything you want."

Joe chuckled and shrugged. "It's generous of her, I suppose, but I can't use half of what she's giving me."

Charlotte let out a loud hoot, amused at what an insensitive jerk her fantasy boy had turned out to be. It didn't seem to bother him one bit that he'd pushed her away and then turned right around and done the deed with Lori Sue! What had happened between them thirteen years ago meant nothing to him, obviously. It was a godsend that LoriSue got to him first, because the guy was bad news.

Not to mention that he was a liar-Charlotte knew too well that Joe Mills could handle anything a woman might give him.

Joe shrugged. "I mean, a man can only take so much chutney."

"Is that what they're calling it nowadays?" Charlotte tried to walk away, but Joe grabbed her forearm. Despite everything, his touch made her breath catch.

"Charlotte?" He turned her and looked into her face as if he was truly concerned for her feelings. "LoriSue is leaving gift baskets on my front stoop. We are talking about the same thing, correct?"

"Gift baskets?" Charlotte couldn't stop her mouth from falling open.

"Muffin mixes and fancy vinegars and crap I don't even know what to do-with." A crooked smile spread across his face. "That's all she's been giving me."

Charlotte covered her eyes with her gardening gloves and wanted to die right there. She heard Joe laughing softly and she joined in.

She peeked at him. "Sorry."

"No problem." He released his hand from her arm. "Thanks for looking out for my best interests, though."

"We take care of each other in Hayden Heights."

Joe nodded, and Charlotte watched his expression turn wistful. "Look. About the other night-"

'There's no need to explain. I'm sorry I behaved like that. I'm usually not such a-"

"Don't be sorry for anything, Charlotte. Is there somewhere we can sit down?"

"I'm fine here. And the kids are coming home soon."

"Ahh, right" Joe cleared his throat, "Well." He seemed nervous, and his gaze wandered onto her freckled chest and dragged its way down her belly. Charlotte tried to suck in her gut without him noticing.

Joe redirected his gaze to her face. "I have one thing to tell you and two questions to ask, and then I won't bother you again."

The way he looked at her, with such earnestness, made her think of her own little boy. She didn't understand how she made that connection, but her heart softened to Joe and whatever it was he wanted to say. She must be the biggest sucker on the planet.

"Go on."

"You need to know that I tried to find you after that day, Charlotte. I looked a long time."

She could not move.

"And the first question I have is-" Joe shook his head and laughed, his black eyes sparkling. "Damn, girl! Put me out of my misery and tell me whose Miata you were you driving that day, would you?"

She wasn't prepared for that question and found herself laughing nervously. He'd looked for her? She felt like the ground was rolling under her feet, like she might lose her balance. "The car belonged to the girlfriend of one of my boyfriend's roommates."

Joe smiled and shook his head. "And I bet she had no idea her man lent it to you."

Charlotte shrugged. "Maybe not. He gave it to me to drive because it was a special occasion. I was on my way to-" She stopped, unable to complete the sentence that would have included the words Kurt and propose. It seemed like blasphemy, under the circumstances.

He took another step toward her, so close that she could smell him-heat and soap and Joe.

"I looked for about six months, Charlotte-tracked down every blue Mazda Miata in the state of Maryland. Then I got transferred with my job. I always hoped I'd see you again."

This was more than she'd bargained for, and Charlotte turned on her heels and headed back to the mower. She needed to end this conversation. She needed to hop back on the Cub Cadet and put the headphones back over her ears and forget she'd ever heard the words he'd just spoken. It was too much. Far too much for her to handle.

But his hand touched her shoulder.

"Do you know you kissed me so hard that day that you broke my tooth?"

"What?" She spun around and examined the smile that greeted her. So that's what was different! He had a little snip off the inside of his left front tooth! She'd remembered his smile as blazing perfection, but now it was flawed, rakish, sexy as all get-out.

She absently ran her tongue along her bottom lip, then said, "No shit?"

Joe tapped a finger on his front incisor. "You owe me. And remember, you don't cuss."

"Damn-I really did that to you? I'm so sorry! I… uhm-" She couldn't stop licking her own bottom lip, horrified to know that the crack she'd heard had been one of his teeth! She'd been so out of control that day. What had she been thinking?

"I have just one more question."

She raised her eyes and scanned his entire face, nearly falling backward as she looked up at him from under the brim of the ball cap. He was so dark and beautiful that it overwhelmed her. He was too close. He was too real. He'd looked for her.

'The day we met-"

His pupils were bottomless, compelling. She once thought of him as the devil, the devil with a fishing pole, if she remembered correctly. So who was he now, and what did he mean when he said he'd never bother her again?

She felt Joe's gaze as it explored her face, and watched as his smile turned to an expression of tenderness. Worry, even. It was as if he suddenly expected her to shatter into pieces or blow away in the wind.

She flinched at the feel of his fingertips brushing the side of her cheek.

"I need to know, Charlotte. Please tell me the truth."

Oh God. She knew exactly what he was asking. His thumb brushed her bottom lip, tracing the invisible scar, paralyzing her.

"Did you give me your virginity that day?"

Charlotte spun away from his eyes, his touch, his words, and was about to hoist herself into the seat of the riding mower when his arms encircled her. With gentleness, he pulled her back against him. As he continued to talk, she felt his breath on the side of her damp neck.

"It's important to me. I have a right to know."

Charlotte didn't consider herself a coward. She'd faced so much and held it together for so long that she could surely answer this simple question. And the truth was, he did deserve to know. She wanted him to know, in fact.

So she nodded.

"Thank you, Charlotte." Joe swept his lips across her shoulder, released her, and backed away.

"I'll be leaving soon," he said. "I had no idea you lived here. I never intended to interfere with your life or cause you any pain."

She twirled around again. "You're what?"

"I have to leave. I'm sorry."

"You're leaving because I live here? You don't want to live near me?"

"It's not that. It's my work."

"You can't live here and write? Why not?"

"It's not that, exactly-"

So he was rejecting her again. Her chest ached and her head buzzed with anger.

"Why the hell did you cut down my honeysuckle?"

"I didn't know it was yours until your friend Ned set me straight. It'll bounce back. Most things do."

Charlotte took a few steps back, circling around the riding mower, putting several hundred pounds of bright yellow steel between them. She shook her head and laughed. "Okay, Joe. So you just show up next door after thirteen years, tell me you never forgot me, hack down my honeysuckle, and leave?"

He moved toward her, leaning both hands on the mower. "It's more complicated than that, Charlotte. I'd give anything to stay here and get to know you, but I can't. It's impossible."

"Right. Great." She hopped into the deep leather seat of the Cub Cadet and was about to turn the key in the ignition when his hand grasped hers.

"I'm glad you remember me, Charlotte. It means a lot to me."

The laughter exploded from her just as the tears began. If the man only knew- Charlotte stared at her grass-stained sneakers and shook her head, thinking of how the memory of Joe had flooded her poetry, her fantasies, her marriage, her life.

"What's so funny?"

If he was leaving, she might as well speak the truth. Charlotte raised her head, looked him in the eye, and said, "Since that day with you, nothing else has ever been good enough."

She turned the key in the ignition and let the roar of the motor drown out his response.

Joe spent the afternoon pacing the rooms of his too-big house. By evening, he knew he had to get out of there or lose his mind.

All had been revealed in that short conversation with Charlotte-words exchanged while he had to watch a single rivulet of sweat roll down Charlotte's smooth, soft, bare belly and into her shorts. And what Joe now knew made him nervous as hell.

Charlotte remembered him all right. What happened between them so long ago meant as much to her as it did to him. Meeting up again in Minton had left Charlotte just as unhinged as he was, as confused and conflicted. He'd seen it in her eyes that afternoon-desire, need, and grief, the same jumble of emotions roiling around in his own heart

What a recipe for disaster.

Joe closed the automatic garage door and backed down the sloped drive. It was a gorgeous evening for a ride with the top down, but he didn't want to call that much attention to himself on his first leisurely cruise around town. He needed to bide his time for twelve more days. Maybe he'd check out the local cinema. Or see if there was a driving range nearby-he hadn't picked up his clubs in years. Or maybe he'd just see where the road took him.

He passed through the small downtown along Main Street, amazed that many of these sturdy nineteenth-century brick storefronts managed to stay in business as florists and hardware stores and restaurants. He passed by Garson's Glass and made a mental note to check on the new window tomorrow. He shuddered a bit at the sign for Basketful O' Gifts, noting that it was conveniently located next door to Sell-More Real Estate, and chuckled to himself about Charlotte's jealousy over blueberry muffin mix and scented room spray.

God, he would miss her. He would miss Charlotte the rest of his life.

Joe headed west of town past a few developments nearly identical to Hayden Heights, then past the high school campus, a couple of strip malls, and a handful of gas stations before it returned to countryside.

It was certainly pretty enough around here. The land that made up the north bank of the Ohio River rolled and swayed, the freshly paved road curling like a black velvet ribbon through the gentle hills. Not a bad place to live, as far as he could tell, if you had to live somewhere like this. Probably not a serious drug problem, but he knew well enough that the ugliness of tide international drug trade didn't spare pretty little towns like Minton, Ohio-or their elementary schools, businesses, or families.

He'd asked himself a thousand times over the years why he chose the life he had. He could have done so many things with his criminal justice degree and his Special Forces background, but he'd picked the DEA. He knew the seed had been planted with Nick's overdose and the realization that his brother was just a tiny piece of a global enterprise of slavery and death. He came to see that the production, distribution, and consumption of drugs was at the heart of much of the world's violent crime, and if you were a cop who wanted to get to the root of what was wrong, the DEA was the place to be.

Joe stopped at a red light at the intersection of two county roads and sat patiently, letting his mind wander. Of course the Administration wasn't perfect. No huge government bureaucracy was, especially one at the whim of shifting politics. But he'd known a lot of good people who worked ungodly hours in awful situations, all in the name of saving people. And he'd always been proud to be one of them.

Joe watched the parade of minivan moms drive by and smiled. He could have chosen to live life like Ned Preston, come to think about it A big fish in a small pond. The law in these parts. He could have been Minton police chief Joe Bellacera-a man who knew more about stolen bikes than bloodshed.

Joe chuckled, about ready to pull out from the light, when he saw the Minton Little League complex down the road to his left. He blinked. The place was huge! Cars spilled out of the lot and lined up along the roadside bumper-to-bumper. The night lights flicked on, sending a white glow over what looked to be a half-dozen fields. He heard the sound of cheering on the breeze.

Before he even realized what he intended, Joe pulled into an empty spot on the grassy shoulder of the road and walked across two lanes to get to the ballpark. His feet crunched on the gravel parking lot as he read the large blue sign at the entrance: minton little league, where

DEDICATION, TEAMWORK, AND SPORTSMANSHIP MEET.

He scanned row after row of pickups, SUVs, minivans, and the occasional luxury sedan. Curiously, the first two rows outside the park entrance remained empty. He heard a chorus of "heads-up!" as a foul ball landed smack in the middle of one of die spots.

Good thing the Mustang was across the road.

A little kid with yellow hair ran out to retrieve the foul ball, smiling at him as he hustled back toward the stands.

God knew it was probably not a good idea to wander in here, but he was drawn by the sounds, the lights, the smell of baseball. He'd played in a Little Italy neighborhood league as a kid, in a grungy, weed-riddled lot that made this place look like Camden Yards. The people around here obviously took their baseball seriously.

"Evening," said a fat guy in overalls and a Minton Feed amp; Seed cap.

"Good evening," Joe replied.

He walked past the first field-the big boys obviously- and he could hear the sharp crack when a thrown ball hit the pocket of a glove. Next was a T-ball field, and he watched the batter just barely graze the stationary baseball, causing it to dribble onto the ground. The parents screamed as if the kid had hit a triple.

He released a startled laugh as he looked to his right, directly into the sharp blue eyes of a redheaded third baseman.

The girl put her hands on her hips, then broke out in a big smile. "Mr. Mills!" She waved her glove into the air. "I'm up next! Stay and watch me hit!"

Hank's coach yelled for her to pay attention to the game, and Joe watched her smack the sweet spot in her glove with confidence as she winked at him. It was.the last thing he planned on doing, but he found himself wandering along the side of the field to the stands, where he found a spot on the aisle about halfway up.

A few faces frowned, most smiled politely, but Joe knew good and well this group of upstanding citizens was trying to decide if he was just another mystery weekend dad or a child molester.

He nodded politely and kept his eye on the action.

Hank scooped up a grounder at third and shot it to second for the last out of the inning. She ran back to the dugout like a woman with a mission. It dawned on Joe that Charlotte could be close by-and he winced at his own stupidity. He wasn't thinking things through. It was like his brain was on vacation.

The last thing he wanted to do was see her again today, because, more than anything, he wanted to see her again.

Joe did everything but stand up and scan the benches, but a casual look around told him Charlotte wasn't there. He was about to sigh with relief when a pair of sober gray eyes met his from under a maroon ball cap and Matt Tasker stood up and made his way through the crowd to him.

He sat down right next to Joe. "You got a kid that plays?"

Joe observed Hank smacking the top of her batting helmet to adjust the fit, then taking a couple practice swings outside the batter's box. From the way she wielded that bat, he thought maybe she was named after Hank Aaron. "I don't have any kids," he said. "Just driving around and stopped in."

"I saw Hank speak to you through the fence, but we're really not allowed to talk to you. My mom says you're unstable."

Joe looked at Matt in surprise. Man, kids just gave it to you straight, didn't they? It was kind of refreshing. "I'm plenty stable," he said, hoping he didn't sound like he was defending himself.

They both turned when the play-by-play man announced Hank Tasker was at the plate.

"Check this out," Matt said, nodding toward the field, not bothering to hide his pride. "My little sister rocks."

Hank let two low and outside pitches go by. On the third, she relaxed her back shoulder, focused her eyes fiercely on the pitcher, and followed through with a swing so pretty that Joe expected the ball to land on the county highway. It didn't go quite that far, but it sailed over the fence by a healthy margin, and Hank trotted around the bases with a gap-toothed smile on her face.

"It's better when she does that with a couple men on," Matt said while clapping. "Helps her RBI stats."

"Does she do that a lot?" Joe asked.

"At least a couple homers every game. She's one of the best hitters in the majors, better than most of the boys, and she only just turned eight last week."

When the applause died down, Joe felt like he needed to make conversation, because Matt showed no sign of moving from his spot "How old are you, Matt?"

"I'll be eleven in November."

Joe smiled, remembering how at that age he, too, couldn't wait for the numbers to click by. He glanced at Matt from the corner of his eye, realizing this past year had to have been hell on the kid. Maybe that's why he was so serious all the time.

"My dad used to coach," Matt said, keeping his eye on the game. "He died a year and a half ago. He was a sportswriter-you might have known him. He was famous." Matt swiveled his head and looked Joe right in the eye. "Kurt Tasker"

Joe nodded in approval. "I know of him and I heard that he died. I am very sorry, Matt."

The boy shrugged and fiddled with a loose splinter of a fingernail. "Yeah. Thanks."

"My dad died about five years ago," Joe offered, unable to stop himself. When had he turned into a chatterbox? "My mom died when I was in college."

Matt's eyes flashed briefly, but his gaze didn't linger on Joe's. "That's bad. You got any brothers or sisters?"

"Nope. Had a brother, but he died, too, a few years before my mom.",..

Matt slowly raised his head. "Wow. That blows."

Joe nodded in agreement, not knowing what else to say to the kid. "Would you like a soda or anything?"

Matt frowned. uYou mean a pop?"

Joe smiled. "Yeah. A pop."

It looked like Matt was going to smile, but he stopped himself and shook his head. "I'd love one, Mr. Mills, but my mom's working the concession stand and she'll only give me bottled water. She's kind of a freak about healthy food/'

"I see."

"But if you go, she won't know it's for me, so that would be cool! So I'll take a large Mountain Dew with no ice and a box of Hot Tamales."

Joe chuckled to himself. Not only had he just been bamboozled into buying junk food for a preadolescent who wasn't supposed to eat it, but now he was going to have to see Charlotte.

Maybe he could use this turn of events to his advantage.

"I'll make a deal with you, Matt. I'll buy you a pop- no candy-in exchange for a little information."

Matt scrunched up his mouth in thought and eventually nodded. "Sounds fair. What do you want to know?'*

Joe put a hand on Mart's shoulder and glowered at him, well aware that it might be considered intimidation. "When exactly were you spying on me, kid?"