McKenna Homecoming (3 page)

“Hey, Alec,” called one of the guys from the football team. “Come over here. We want to settle a bet about that winning touchdown you made at State.”

Alec’s gaze swung back to the doors. They stayed shut, and Leah stayed gone. To his right, the glory days waited, with his former teammates and the cheerleaders who still hung close by. Alec waited only a second, then made his choice.

The dark night air whispered a cool breeze over Leah’s bare arms. She leaned against the building, watching the traffic pass by the hotel, tires creating that soft hush-hush music of a city at night. She drew in a deep breath, then let it out.

What had she been thinking, dancing with Alec? She wasn’t here to resurrect a relationship with him. Those days were in the past, and the sooner she accepted that, the better.

So why did she care if he had changed, or whether he still remembered her?

The door beside her opened and Alec stepped outside. Even now, even when she knew better, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. “Don’t you have a reunion to get back to?” she asked.

“I could say the same to you.”

She shrugged. “You’re the one with the fan club inside.”

He took a step closer, winnowing the gap between them to mere inches. “I don’t care about them.”

A sigh escaped her and she pushed off from the wall to face him. The Alec she remembered had chased the next headline, looked for the next celebration. He’d been more focused on being the star than on being there when she needed him. “I should probably get back inside. I’m supposed to be in charge of the dessert table at nine.”

“Avoiding me again?” He arched a brow. “Why can’t you have a simple conversation with me?”

“We talked.” They had talked and danced, and she had felt his body against hers, and realized she’d been fooling herself to think she was over him.

But Alec wasn’t the kind of man she wanted in her life—not that day at graduation when he had let her down, and not now. From what she’d seen tonight, he hadn’t changed much.

He grinned. “We barely talked. I want to know more about what you’ve been doing for the past few years, and what you’re doing next.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, ‘why?’”

“Our relationship has been over for a long time, Alec. Why don’t we just leave the past where it is, wish each other well and call it a night?”

“Because there’s still unfinished business between us. Some words that need to be said. I keep trying to say them, but you keep backing away.” He took another step closer. “You’re scared.”

“Me?” She scoffed. “I’m not scared of anything.”

“Then prove it.” He took another step, and now nothing but a whisper of air separated them. “Kiss me.”

“What is kissing you going to prove?” She affected a sarcastic attitude, as if she didn’t care. As if her heart wasn’t beating at a furious pace, her pulse thundering in her head, and anticipation spreading in a warm pool in her gut.

“That you don’t care about me anymore,” he said, his voice low and dark, his breath whispering against her lips.

She raised her chin. “We’ve been over a long time, Alec.”

A slow grin spread across his face. “You said that already.” He reached up and cupped her jaw, letting his thumb trace along her lower lip. Her mouth opened, and the anticipation shifted to a heated roar. Alec’s gaze met hers for one long, hot second, then he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her.

Desire swept through her in a hot, fast rush. She knew, oh, how she knew, how good a kiss from him would be. He’d been her first kiss, and her most memorable kiss, and a thousand other kisses that she had never forgotten. And now

Now he was her most amazing kiss. Alec’s lips slid across hers, slow, easy at first, as if he was taking his time getting to know her again. Then his hands came up and cupped the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair, and he opened his mouth against hers. She curved into him, responding in kind.

Alec shifted and so, too, did the mood, from sweet and easy to searing and swift, like a fire set off by a torch. He groaned and she echoed the sound, and they crushed their bodies together, their kiss a hungry, blinding rush to have more, more, more. His hands bunched at the back of her dress, and she reached under his suit jacket, grasping at the firm, hard muscles beneath. For a moment, she forgot where they were, forgot who they were, and just gave in to desire.

Then a car honked behind them, and common sense jerked her back to reality. Above her, rain started falling, soft, just a dusting of droplets. Leah pushed off from Alec and inserted a good foot of distance between them. “That

that shouldn’t have happened.”

“Why not?”

Because she was finally ready to start her own life, and he was pulling her backward. The reunion was one night; after it was over, Alec would go on with his life, and she would go on with hers. “I have to get back inside.” She turned away.

He reached for her arm. “Wait. Don’t go.”

She shook her head. “I have to.”

“I’ve made a mess of this. Would you meet me,” he said, his gaze connecting with hers, “tomorrow, for lunch? Let’s get away from all this—” he waved at the ballroom, and the high-school memories inside “—and have a real, honest conversation.”

“With you?” She shook her head. “Alec, that was half the problem. We had fun, not honest conversations.”

“And you think I haven’t changed.”

“People don’t change, Alec.”

“Meet me tomorrow. Please.” He took a step forward, and she wanted him to kiss her and leave her all at the same time. The rain started falling harder, pelting Alec’s jacket, Leah’s dress. “You owe me that, at least.” He gave her the address of a local restaurant. “No strings, no expectations. Just that one conversation we should have had ten years ago.”

She shook her head and swiped at her face, not sure if it was tears or rain on her cheeks. “What’s that going to change?”

“You won’t know unless you show up, Leah.” He pressed a soft, tender kiss to her cheek, then he turned and stalked off into the dark, rainy night. Leah stood there a long time, watching the space where Alec had been, while the rain ruined her dress and her heart cracked.

Alec drummed his fingers on the table. Reset his place setting, twice. Fiddled with the napkin. And watched the clock tick past twelve, edge toward twelve-fifteen and then bump up against twelve-thirty. He’d been in the fifties-style restaurant in downtown Boston for so long, the waitress finally gave up on asking him what he wanted to eat, and stuck to refilling his water glass.

He was a fool for believing Leah would show up. He’d thought he’d read something between them last night in their dance, their kiss. He’d been wrong. He got to his feet, reaching into his pocket for a few bills for the waitress, when the door opened and Leah hurried in, her hair a wild, wet tangle around her face, the khaki trench coat she wore dripping on the floor. Her gaze scanned the room before it lit on him.

A smile broke across her face, bursting like sunshine in the diner, erasing the gray, rainy day outside. His heart leaped, but he tempered his joy with a dose of reality. Take it slow, one step at a time, and don’t read anything into a simple lunch.

Alec came around to the other side of the table and pulled out the chair for Leah. “Thanks,” she said, dropping into it with a sigh. She shrugged out of her jacket and ran a hand through her hair. “I lost track of the time and then I couldn’t find a cab and—”

“You’re here.” He could feel the goofy grin on his face, and he didn’t even care. “I’m glad.”

He’d dated dozens of women—hell, maybe a hundred—over the past ten years. None of those relationships had lasted more than a few weeks, or meant any more to him than a show on TV. The women he’d dated hadn’t expected much out of him, nor he from them. There had been a mutual agreement that they would have a good time and that was it.

Except with Leah. She’d been the only woman who had asked more of him. He’d run from her expectations, and he’d been running ever since. Until he’d seen himself twenty, thirty years down the road in his father’s face, bruised and battered by a car accident, and decided he wanted more. Until now.

“I almost didn’t come,” she said.

The waitress deposited a steaming mug and a small plate with a teabag and lemon slice by Leah. “Hot tea for you.”

“Thank you.” Leah blinked up at her. “How did you know?”

“He ordered it,” the waitress said, motioning to Alec, before handing them menus. “I’ll give you two a few minutes, then come back for your order.”

When she was gone, Leah turned to Alec. “You remembered.”

He chuckled. “You must have had a thousand cups of tea at that little diner by your house in the time we dated. Never coffee, always tea, with lemon, not honey.”

A smile curved across her face. He hadn’t forgotten. The gesture sent a warm flutter through her. “I’m

flattered.”

“And surprised? Admit it, you didn’t think I was paying attention.”

“Well, you were

busy.”

“Self-centered. You can say it.”

“Oh, you had moments when

” Her voice trailed off. She shrugged, reached for the teabag and assembled her drink.

“When what?”

She raised her gaze to his. “When you were sweet.”

He laughed. “Me? Never. I was the captain of the football team.” He flexed a bicep and gave her a teasing grin. “Sweet didn’t describe me.”

“You were sweet with me, sometimes, and those were the moments that

” She paused to wring out the teabag, then squeeze in some lemon. “That made dating you nice.”

“And the rest of the moments?”

“Well

” She shrugged. “That was years ago.”

He knew she was thinking of the one moment he hadn’t been sweet, when he had rejected her because she had asked him to be responsible, dependable, strong for her. Regret filled him. “I was a terrible boyfriend. I’m sorry.”

“You were young. Me, too. We were still getting our feet wet at the dating thing.”

“That’s true, but I still owe you an apology.” He’d made a lot of mistakes in his youth, and though he couldn’t rectify all of them, he could start with what he had done to Leah. Letting her down when she’d needed him most. “So what do you think would happen if we tried over again, now, as adults?”

“Tried again?”

“Yeah. Dated now.”

She stared at him, her tea forgotten. “You’re

you’re asking me on a date?”

“I’m asking you on more than one.” He reached across the table and caught her hand in his. Every time he touched her, a rush ran through him. Not desire—something more, something warmer, deeper. “I want to find out where we could have gone if we hadn’t broken up all those years ago.”

She tugged her hand out of his and moved it under the table. “We can’t do that, Alec.”

“Give me one good reason why.”

“We’re

not compatible.”

“After that kiss last night, you’re saying we wouldn’t be a good fit? Seemed to me like we fit perfectly.”

A blush bloomed in her cheeks. “Well, that kiss notwithstanding.”

So she’d been as affected as he had been last night. He’d walked away from the reunion and realized two things before he even hailed a cab. He was glad he’d gone, and he was still in love with Leah Andrews. Maybe it was all the unfinished business between them, maybe it was the desire to show her that he could be everything she’d thought he was, or maybe it was just the new maturity that had come upon him in recent months, but Alec had no intentions of letting Leah go a second time. “Then let’s try again.”

She toyed with the handle of her mug, avoiding his gaze. “I can’t. I don’t know where I’m living or what I’m doing. I’m in transition right now, figuring out what I want, and getting involved with anyone would be a bad idea.”

“You’re afraid.” He shook his head. “You are the bravest woman I know and you’re afraid. Why?”

“I’m not afraid.” The protest came fast, then just as quickly, she gave him a wry grin. “Okay, maybe I am a little. It’s just

I’ve kind of been living in a bubble for the past ten years. All the way on the other side of the country, wrapped up in my father’s medical care. The rest of the world just kind of

disappeared for me during that time.”

He leaned across the table, meeting her gaze with his own. “Then stop doing that. It’s time you had your own life, Leah. The one you put on hold.”

“I keep telling myself that, and so do my friends, but

” She shrugged. “I wonder if it’s too late. I’m not eighteen anymore, Alec. I missed all the typical after-high-school stuff—college, dorm life, internships

“

“So? Start somewhere else.”

She laughed, but he could still see the doubt and fear warring in her eyes. She was skittish, unsure, and that was far from the Leah he remembered. What was it going to take for her to let go and get that fire back again?

“You think I can start over again, just like that?” she said.

“That’s what I did. I spent too many years wasting my life, doing nothing. Then I had a moment that

changed things for me. My grandmother offered me a job at the family firm, and I took it. Believe me, I was scared as hell, sure I’d screw it up.”

“Why would you believe that?”

“Leah, what have I done right? Carrying a football over a line isn’t exactly a lifetime achievement. You, though

you were always amazing. Yearbook editor, school newspaper editor. You won that poetry contest, and that other essay thing.”

“You remember all that?”

“I remember everything about you, Leah.” And he did. As much as he thought he’d put her from his mind, she’d always lingered there, like peanut butter on the roof of a child’s mouth. “Do you remember?”

Her gaze met his and held. He saw the fear bubble up again in her eyes. She shook her head, then gathered up her coat and got to her feet. “Whether I do or I don’t doesn’t matter, Alec. I’m sorry. I just don’t think this is a good idea.” She paused by his chair, letting her hand linger on his shoulder, then she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Goodbye,” she whispered.

And then she was gone. Again.