The Chance

“And you’re definitely not poor now,” she said.

“I get by. I have some money saved. Not a fortune. I’m pretty tight, when you get down to it.”

“A by-product of growing up not having enough?”

He chewed a mouthful of salad. “More likely a by-product of worrying that I don’t deserve what I have. I didn’t even graduate from high school. I got my GED later.”

“At least you got it!”

By the time their entrées came, they were talking about the differences in their lives to this point in time—she admitted to a successful college experience, while he claimed a few college courses. He told her it was his brother-in-law who helped him buy the first auto body shop in Eugene, but he managed to pay him back and buy him out. Eric was enjoying the conversation, even though he was the poor cousin to her privileged little girl. That didn’t bother him—his parents were good people, just not rich people. He was well aware that their differences ran far deeper, but he wasn’t going to get into that tonight. He wanted to get to know her first; wanted her to get to know him for the person he was now, not the person he had been in years past. Besides, she was playing some cards very close to her own chest—like the top secret jazz she couldn’t talk about. Surely her good friend Devon had been privy to what Laine actually did for a living. And he was willing to bet it wasn’t “research.”

But no matter what was missing, what was there for Eric was plenty. He was further across the line—he really liked her. She was fun and smart and sexy. It sounded like she had a complicated life that she took in stride, which spelled maturity—he appreciated that. There was a certain young wisdom about her when she said things like, “I think it’s too bad when our parents don’t live up to our expectations when it’s even more likely we didn’t live up to theirs.”

Plus...he liked the way she lifted the fork, licked her lips, brushed back her hair. She had a small dimple on the right side of her mouth, very deep blue eyes, one slightly crooked front tooth that gave her smile an impish quality. She was so articulate; he had had to work hard to become articulate when he began to draw a sophisticated clientele. He hadn’t come from a well-educated background and as a kid he hung with lowlifes. She said she didn’t have a million friends, just a few good ones. “I can relate to that,” he said. “Me, too.”

“I’m not very social, when you get down to it,” she said. “I’d much rather have a small dinner with a couple of friends than go to a party. I don’t think I’ve been to a party in...years. A couple of wedding receptions or retirement parties, but those are almost mandatory events.”

“Would you like to be more social?” he asked her.

She shook her head. Then she shrugged and said, “I like what I like. I love fixing dinner for friends. I have a twin brother—another doctor, which makes my father very happy. Pax is his name and he’s the most remarkable man I know—Harvard bred, he’s finishing up a fellowship in pediatric surgery at Brigham and Women’s and he actually has a personality. He’s kind and brilliant.” Then she laughed and said, “I guess you can tell, we’re very close. I’m not close to my sister-in-law, but we both love Pax, so we get along well enough.”

He laughed at that. “I have to admit, my brother-in-law and I are closer than I am to my sister. My sister has been trying to fix me for at least twenty years, my brother-in-law thinks I’m cool.”

They shared a rich chocolate cheesecake for dessert and Eric asked for a cup of coffee while she finished her second glass of wine. “What about that beer?” she asked. “Wasn’t it okay? You didn’t even drink half of it.”

“It was fine, but I’m not much of a drinker, and I’m driving. I should probably worry more about my coffee consumption.”

On the way home he asked her, “When you were a kid, did you do any middle-class stuff, like...you know...Brownies? T-ball? Explorers Club?”

“Nah, my parents had us in accelerated academic programs. We had tutors from the beginning. My father pushed really hard. I didn’t even know about those other things. I was playing chess by eight, Pax was an elementary school leader in science club. My dad had a plan and my mom pretty much went along with it. The only reason I was in karate is because Pax was.” She turned toward him and grinned. “But I took to it better than he did. I can kick the stuffing out of him.”

“Spoken like a true sister.”

Eric pulled into her driveway. He turned to look at her and damn, she was so pretty. This was just about a peak experience for him. “Good first date,” he said, oh so eloquently.

“Excellent first date.”

“Don’t move,” he told her. “Let me be a gentleman.”

He led her toward the door and when they got there she stopped and turned, looking up at him expectantly. “Well?”

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew what she was waiting for. “Don’t you want to get to know me better before we have that good-night kiss?” he asked, giving her a chance to make a break for it.

“Look, I haven’t been out on a real date in over a year and before that it was a series of really bad dates with guys I’d never date a second time and this was an excellent date. Didn’t I just say that? And damn it, I want to cap it off with a—”

It rapidly crossed his mind that she must have been a supervisor, at least. He slid his arm around her waist and lifted her up to his lips. She was small but not that light; he could feel the muscles that hadn’t been so obvious. This was a strong woman. He found her mouth with his and planted one on her and then, almost instantly, he fell in love with that mouth. With one hand supporting her at the small of her back and the other plunged into her soft hair at the back of her head, he urged her lips open. He was cautious with his invasive tongue but she wasn’t. She welcomed him, pulled him in, joined him in tongue-play. Her arms circled his neck and held on tight and he moved over her mouth hungrily, drinking in her taste. She was just perfect. It was almost scary how perfect she was. He lapped at her mouth, devoured her, started breathing hard in spite of his intention to be cool. He was not cool. He was over the edge.

He slowly broke away, but didn’t put her on her feet. He loved having her up against him. “Tell the truth. The president works for you....”

That made her laugh. “Want to come in?” she asked in a breathy whisper.

He shook his head. “If I come in, I won’t leave till morning.”

“That’s negotiable....”

“Let’s get to know each other a little better.”

“Wow. I didn’t think men said no.”

“I like you,” he said. “A lot. I don’t want you to have any regrets. I want you to be sure.”

“And you? You want to be sure?” she asked.

Oh, man, he was too sure. But there was a lot about him she didn’t know. And the front stoop was not the place to go through the details. “At least one more date, honey,” he said. “I think we’re both ready, but let’s take it a little slower....”

“You think I’m a slut?”

He laughed at her. “I think you’re a goddess!”

“Correct answer,” she said, wiggling in his arms until he set her on her feet. “Good date, good first kiss, let’s see if you can live up to the rest of it.”

“Oh, the pressure,” he said, chuckling. He leaned down and kissed her nose. “Thank you, Laine. I had a good time.”

“Do you think you’ll ask me out again or are you just going to ask how my car is running for the next week?”

He loved her sass. Loved it. She was so bold; not a coy bone in her body. “Sunday night?”

“Something going on tomorrow night?”

He shook his head. “I’m pretty busy tomorrow during the day, that’s all.”

“Can I cook us dinner?” she asked.

And he knew. He knew. He was going to have to lay it all on her—everything he held in his past. It might just freak her out. And if it didn’t freak her out, he’d be staying till Sunday morning. This was a beautiful, terrifying impasse.

“Sure,” he said. “What time?”

“Six?”

“I’ll be here.”

* * *

After her date, Laine washed her face, brushed her teeth, put on her favorite pajamas, lit the fire in her bedroom and snuggled into bed. Ordinarily she would close her eyes, take a few deep, slow breaths and worry that sleep might elude her or that she’d wake with a start because some deep, subconscious fear chased her in the dark of night.

Before the shooting she had been so highly disciplined she could grab sleep whenever it was available. After the shooting, she had suffered bouts of sleeplessness. Sometimes she thought she heard a gunshot and jolted awake, panting. When the FBI shrink had asked how she’d been sleeping she said, “Groggily, because of pain meds, I suppose. But I sleep. I’ve always been good at sleeping.” She could tell the shrink wasn’t fooled. Agents probably told her that all the time.

But tonight she welcomed a little sleeplessness.