Public Displays Of Affection

Chapter Eleven

Charlotte was feeling particularly sorry for herself tonight. Instead of being in the stands cheering for Hank the way she'd done earlier for Matt, she was stuck filling in for two no-show parent volunteers at the concession stand.

To make matters worse, her coworkers that night were the poster children for passive-aggressive couples everywhere-the Bettmyers.

Twenty minutes into the shift, Charlotte wanted to wring someone's neck. She decided Jimmy Bettmyer's neck would do nicely.

"We need another cheeseburger, if it fits into your busy bachelor's schedule," LoriSue said to Jimmy.

"Comin' right up, Your Bustiness," he replied.

Charlotte decided now was a good time to restock the grill with frozen hamburger patties and excused herself. Once in the back of the concession stand, she leaned up against the large chest freezer and sighed.

It hit her right then-a punch of grief for Kurt. It could still sneak up on her like that, at the oddest moments, with no warning, and before she knew it her stomach was in knots and her eyes stung with tears. She missed him so. He should have been there tonight with her. He would have been the one making everyone laugh. In his presence, the Bettmyers wouldn't bother her. She would take one look at her husband and know just lucky she was.

They'd always been able to talk-about everything but sex, anyway. And spending time with the Bettmyers made it clear just how good her own marriage had been. There was never any of this spiteful snapping at each other. When they argued, they talked it out calmly until it was as right as they could make it. And it might have been a bit boring, but it was good.

She'd give anything to have him back.

Charlotte shook her head and forced herself to stop the tears before they really started, reaching into the chest freezer and grabbing a plastic bag of frozen meat. She was heading toward the front of the snack bar, wiping her eyes, when Joe appeared at the window. She had to blink several times to be sure he wasn't a figment of her apparently relentless imagination.

"Well, hello!" LoriSue nearly screeched with excitement. "It's so nice to see you again, Joe!"

Charlotte absently handed the bag to Jimmy, who dropped the spatula and stared intently at the man who'd so obviously snagged his wife's attention.

"Hello," Joe said to LoriSue. "One Mountain Dew, please. No ice." Joe then cleared his throat nervously and allowed his eyes to land on Charlotte. She felt an immediate jolt deep in her belly.

"Good evening, Charlotte," Joe said.

"Thanks for bringing me the burgers, babe." Jimmy moved close to Charlotte's side. "Now why don't you take your sweet self back there and get me some more wieners?"

Oh no. Charlotte sensed a very strange drama unfolding here, and she knew she was about to have one of the leading roles, whether she wanted it or not.

"Here you are, Joe." LoriSue cantilevered her body into the window so that she could offer Joe her breasts along with the soft drink. "No charge. Enjoy/'

Jimmy snaked an arm around Charlotte's waist and brought her along as he approached the window.

"I'm Jim Bettinyer." He stuck his free hand past his wife and offered it to Joe. "You must be Charlotte's new neighbor."

Joe reached around LoriSue's boobs and shook the offered hand. "Yes. Joe Mills. Nice to meet you."

Charlotte twirled away from Jimmy's embrace, deciding that now was, in fact, a good time to get the wieners. Why in the world was Joe here? Had he come to see LoriSue? But he said there was nothing between them. Then had Joe come to see her!

Charlotte hopped up on the chest freezer and sat cross-legged a good five minutes, biting her bottom lip, waiting until she was certain Joe was gone. She couldn't face him after what they'd said that afternoon. She'd told him he took her virginity and changed her life, and he'd claimed to have searched for her. But he was leaving any way* and she knew it had nothing to do with his writing. Joe Mills was leaving because she wasn't the girl he remembered. He wasn't interested in the woman she'd become.

Charlotte climbed down from her perch and returned to the front, only to see Joe still standing at the window.

"There you are, babe." Jimmy held out his hand. "I thought I was going to have to send out a rescue team for you."

She couldn't quite pinpoint what she saw in Joe's face but thought she detected a little bit of irritation and a whole lot of amusement. She noticed that LoriSue was patting his upper arm as she laughed and chatted with him.

"I'm just so glad you enjoyed the muffin mixes," she was saying.

Jimmy looped his arm around Charlotte's shoulders. Joe stared at her. Then Jimmy whispered something in Charlotte's ear, but she couldn't hear because of the roaring of her blood. She untied her apron.

"I'm going to catch the end of Hank's game." Charlotte folded the apron and stuck in it the drawer. "Business has slowed down enough that you two can handle it. Have a good evening, everyone."

In a flash, she was out the back door and breathing again, feeling a surprisingly small amount of guilt for ditching snack bar duties. LoriSue and Jimmy were perfectly capable of selling hot dogs without her. Why did people always assume that she would rush* in and fix things? Why did people always assume that they could screw up and she would pick up the slack?

Maybe it was time for her to stop saying yes all the time.

Charlotte found herself nearly running to Hank's field, surprised when she sensed she had company. If it was Jimmy Bettmyer, she didn't think she could be held responsible for her actions.

It was Joe.

He had no problem keeping up with her brisk stride. His legs were so much longer than hers that he seemed to be gliding along at a leisurely pace while she scurried. He smiled down at hen

"Is Jimmy your boyfriend?"

Charlotte hissed. "Oh, please."

"He seems quite smitten with you."

"He's smitten by anything with two X chromosomes." Charlotte sped up, noticing that Joe's full paper cup was sloshing a bit. That pleased her. "Are you sure LoriSue isn't your girlfriend?"

Joe didn't answer right away, and in the silence Charlotte found herself wondering if her original assumption was correct. Then Joe said in a flat voice, "I've decided to ask her to be my bride. I think it was the chutney."

Charlotte turned away so he couldn't see her smile. So Joe Mills still had a sense of humor, did he? The realization made her heart jump. Then she reminded herself that Joe and his sense of humor were leaving town.

"I'm plenty stable, Charlotte. You don't have to worry about your kids around me."

She stopped walking. She looked up at him and frowned, and he frowned right back at her. A little voice in her head told her that this big man ought to terrify her-his eyes looked as cold as black steel; his jaw was set and his shoulders rigid-but for some reason she simply felt challenged by him.

She puffed herself up. "You pulled a gun on me and threw me on the ground. You tell me you always hoped to find me, but you're leaving anyway. In my dictionary, these things pretty much define the word unstable?

"I have a permit for that gun and I wish I could stay and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for every thing."

"I hate guns. I don't believe they have any place in a residential neighborhood. You scared me to death. And I don't want you to leave. You just got here."

His frown disappeared and his eyes softened. "I agree with you. About everything."

Charlotte huffed and started walking again, Joe at her side. Why was he following her?

"Why do you have a gun, anyway?"

"I'm used to living places where I need to protect myself."

"So where did you live before?"

"I've moved around a lot since D.C.-the Southwest mostly."

"Are you going back there when you leave?"

"Probably not."

Charlotte clomped up the aluminum steps of the bleachers, waving and saying hello to everyone. She took a seat at the top, and Joe sat down at her side. She turned to see him waiting for her next question.

Charlotte wished he'd put her out of her misery and leave now. Leave the Little League field, leave town, leave her alone. But he continued to look at her with those intensely dark eyes touched with sadness.

"So have you always been a writer?" The question was the best she could do.

"No. I was just out of the army when we-" Joe paused, glanced around, then shot her a penetrating glance. 'The day we met."

She looked away. Having this man sit next to her at her kid's ball game was beyond surreal-it'.was painfully strange. How was she supposed to engage in small talk with someone she'd envisioned naked and aroused for thirteen straight years?

She didn't even have to look at him to picture every detail of his clothing. She knew perfectly well what he was wearing tonight-nicely fitted khaki hiking shorts, black leather sandals, and a black T-shirt that worked to accentuate his dark hair and eyes. He was wearing that gleaming little gold hoop in his left ear. "So what did you do after the army?"

He cleared his throat. "I worked in the security industry mostly. Didn't start writing until recently."

She turned toward him and looked down at his hands. They were a rich bronze, lean and big, yet they cradled the paper cup gingerly. She wondered why he hadn't even taken a sip of his drink. She remembered what those hands felt like on her breasts.

She shuddered.

"Chilly?"

"Nope. So, LoriSue says you write mysteries."

"I try.'

'Are you famous? Should I recognize your name?"

"I wish."

His leg brushed up against hers. The contact of the bristly dark hairs against her smooth skin was excruciating. She jerked her knee away.

His legs were muscular and long and the same smooth, rich hue as the rest of him. Mills had to be an Anglicized version of some name the clerks at Ellis Island couldn't pronounce, because this man was obviously something exotic.

"Did you grow up around here, Joe?"

"Nope. I grew up in Baltimore. Little Italy."

"You're Italian?"

She loved how his lips spread wide, pushing out the black goatee like bat wings, revealing the smile she'd first seen in a rearview mirror so long ago.

That perfect smile had hypnotized her then. The imperfect one made her perspire now.

"My father was Italian and my mother was Greek. A pretty lethal combination. And you?"

Charlotte laughed. She'd been right about the name change. "Nothing anywhere near as interesting, sorry to say. I'm from solid Southern Baptist stock. A little bit of Scottish and English somewhere in the distant past. Boring."

"Not hardly, dumplin'."

She tried not to smile.

"So tell me, Charlotte." Joe's words came out in a deep whisper that she heard loud and clear despite the noise of the crowd. "Why did you do it? And what did you mean when you said that after me, nothing else has ever been good enough?"

It seemed she'd been neglecting her kid, because Hank had apparently just hit a homer and was rounding the bases and everyone was cheering but her own mother!

Charlotte was being corrupted by the presence of Joe Mills. She'd thrown herself at him, dressed up for him, and now she was ignoring her children for him. She needed to get this over with so she could concentrate on her life again.

"I want you, Joe."

Slowly, he turned to her. Both his black eyebrows were hovering way up on his forehead as he stared.

"I need it. Bad." She met his stare straight on. "I need you one more time before you leave. One more time before I die."

There it was. If she hadn't proved it to herself before, it was obvious now. She was a slut. Half of her was relieved, and that part wanted to jump in his lap and kiss him so hard she broke all the rest of his teeth. The other half hoped her words would shock him, make him sputter and hem and haw and get up and leave her sitting there by herself the way she should be, a widow and a responsible mother.

But Joe only laughed, and Charlotte was shocked by the contagious quality of the sound. She remembered that laugh. He'd laughed like that with her so lpng ago, when he was inside her and his hands were all over her and they were tumbling around on the ground and she was praying and crying and giggling all at the same time because of the shocking intensity of the pleasure. His laughter was the sound of pleasure to her still.

She held her breath. She looked around the bleachers. She tried not to pay attention to how close he was and how good he smelled, because she felt another psychotic break coming on.

"Hey! Thanks for my pop, Mr. Mills!"

Matt squeezed his body between them and plopped down onto the bench, smiling at Charlotte in triumph as he took a big gulp of the forbidden beverage.

Joe's body vibrated from his scalp to his instep. The woman sitting next to him was Eve herself. And the idea of possessing her one last time before he left was as tempting as it was foolish. Who was he kidding? Did he really think he could get another sample of sweet Charlotte and then turn around and leave?

Hell no.

And he didn't know which was worse-being hunted down by a madman or facing life without this woman.

He listened to Charlotte lecture Matt on the evils of sweetened carbonated drinks while he enjoyed a leisurely look at everything she'd just offered him. God. Charlotte Tasker was all woman.

She was still trim and petite but no longer a girl. She'd filled out, softened, and his fingers itched to touch her. Her hair was still shiny and her face full. There were fine lines at the corners of that delectable little pink mouth and crow's-feet fanning out from those sultry gray eyes, but those were just signs that she'd smiled and laughed a lot over the years. Joe found comfort in that and said a silent thank-you to Kurt Tasker, because he'd clearly been good to her.

Matt elbowed Joe and rolled his eyes as Charlotte finished her scolding. Poor kid. Not only had he endured a tongue-lashing from his mother, but he'd had to admit to Joe that he'd spied on him. It had all been innocent enough-watching him stack boxes and retrieve LoriSue's gift baskets-but after all this he bet Matt would never scam for a soda or turn a pair of binoculars Joe's way again.

Hank's team won the game by a score of 16-4, and the teams lined up at the plate to repeat the phrase "good game" dozens of times and shake hands. Parents began to stand, stretch, and gather their belongings.

"Did you drive your Mustang to the game, Mr. Mills?"

"Sure did. It's the only car I got, kid."

"Can I ride home with you?"

"That's probably not a good idea." Charlotte was up off the bench in a flash, grabbing Matt's hand and pushing him past Joe into the aisle. "Good-bye, Joe. Have a nice evening. And good luck with your move."

With a shrug from Matt, they were assimilated into the throng and gone. Joe stayed in the bleachers for a while, watching parents hug their children and compliment them on their singles and catches. He watched the families walk to the parking lot.

He sat perfectly still, elbows on knees and hands clasped in front of him. Charlotte's abrupt departure stung quite a bit, he had to admit. But it was obvious that she wanted to keep her kids out of this. She was right, of course, and suddenly Joe couldn't recall why he'd come here in the first place. He had no business here. This was not his life and it never would be. Steve and Reba Simmons had led this life once, and they'd never again be watching Daniel play a Little League game, would they?

Joe felt heavy with exhaustion and pulled himself to his feet, joining the last few stragglers as they made their way to the cars. A man in a Volvo station wagon motioned for him to cross the county road while three kids in ball caps stared at him from the backseat.

As Joe opened the car door, he had to laugh at himself. A month ago, he'd been ready to make the biggest bust of his career. He'd been inches from nailing Miguel Guzman as he personally handed over fifty kilos of cocaine in exchange for $5 million in cash.

Tonight, he was a guy with a price on his head, a guy so lonely that he hung out at Little League games for kicks. A guy who was going crazy with desire for the one woman fate continued to deny him.

Joe had a feeling that no matter what Roger said, if he didn't leave this town right now-tonight-he'd soon be telling fate to fuck off and die.