Playing the Game (5 page)

“Sounds personal.”

“Mmm. Too personal for today, perhaps.”

* * * *

Jay’s birthday arrived on the horizon in June, though she needed no clue from Henry, since Jay mentioned the fact from mid-May onward. Her office came through with the perfect free gift.

“But my birthday’s not for another three weeks.” Jay grinned at the cupcake with its lone candle. “Am I getting one of these every day until my birthday?” He jumped out of his seat and hugged her. “Sugar! The perfect gift.”

“Sit down and eat your cupcake, you crazy person. That’s not your gift, and you’re not getting any more unless Henry has plans he hasn’t mentioned.”

They both looked at Henry, who shook his head with perfect innocence.

“What’s my gift, then?” Jay sat back in his chair, blew out the candle and took a bite that encompassed half the cupcake. “I made a wish, so it better come true.”

“My company’s having an employee field day next Friday. If you wanted to take off–”

“You want me on your team?” Jay preened, puffing out his chest. “It’s because I’m such a hot athlete, isn’t it.”

“Yup,” she agreed. “That’s it exactly. I thought I’d parade you in front of my coworkers, win some trophies and earn my team’s adulation for bringing in a ringer.”

“I’m totally there. Sign me up.”

She added Jay’s name to the list as her “plus one,” which for some of her teammates was plus three or four, since families were welcome. They did win some events, though not the piggyback race. Jay allowed a huffing and puffing father with his cheering six-year-old daughter on his back to pass them once Alice whispered in his ear that he was her boss.

A mournful Jay set her back on her feet.

“But now you won’t get the prize, Alice. What will you cuddle at night?”

She eyed the oversize stuffed tiger clutched in the child’s hands and nearly dragging on the ground. “I don’t think that thing would even fit in my bed.”

“You need to find a bigger bed, then.” Jay tapped his finger on his nose. “I know! I’ll make room in mine. Problem solved.”

She laughed. Jay’s over-the-top flirting was a staple of their friendship. So long as she never told him what they did in bed in her fantasies, it could stay that way.

Besides, his attention span was ridiculously short. He’d find something else to amuse himself in thirty seconds.

“I bet you think a bigger bed is the answer to everything.”

“It isn’t?” Jay scanned the field. “Wait, I’m wrong. Sometimes a bigger buffet table is the answer.”

He grabbed her hand and tugged her along. “C’mon, we need more lunch before volleyball.”

When she brought him home, she was certain she knew how a divorced parent felt dropping off her child with the custodial parent. Jay insisted she have a bowl of ice cream with Henry while he reenacted every activity, complete with sound effects and props. She and Henry delivered lavish praise for the accomplishments and the creative theater.

“It was a fantastic birthday gift, Alice.” Jay crouched behind her chair and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “Thanks.”

“Hey, you’re the one who made it fun. Thanks for hanging out with me.”

“I’ll have to second Jay’s commendation, Alice.” Henry’s lips twitched. “It’s amazing how much one can accomplish when he’s out of the house all day.”

Alice laughed.

Jay sauntered to his own chair, turned it around and straddled it backward. He crossed his arms atop the back.

“It’s okay, Henry. It’s probably tough for your old bones to keep up with us young whippersnappers. Did you want us to yell at some kids to get off your lawn?”

Henry smirked. “I’ll tell you what I want when you’re older. Isn’t it past your bedtime, young man? The sun will be setting soon.”

They played board games and traded insults for the rest of the night. The hour was late when she went home to her futon, where there was no room for tigers or Jays or Henrys.

* * * *

A formal invitation appeared on her door two weeks later, requesting her presence for a Fourth of July evening of dinner and fireworks-watching. As if they even had to ask. Had she turned down an invitation yet?

Henry opened the door at her knock, casually dressed, for him, in khakis and a short-sleeved green polo shirt that matched his eyes. She let her gaze roam, flirtatiously, because it was Henry, and he was as safe and harmless as they came.

“Looking sharp. Testing out new date threads?” She circled him as he closed the door.

Exquisite. The slacks hugged him enough to remind her of his masculinity but not enough to feel obscene. The shirt draped just so across the breadth of his shoulders.
Yum
.

Not that his attractiveness surprised her.

No, the only surprising thing was that he’d opened the door himself. Usually that task fell to Jay while Henry cooked.

“Jay on strike tonight? Or busy sampling the food while your back is turned?”

Henry smiled. His gaze skated over her own form, lingering on the scoop neck of her top, presumably because the view wasn’t one Jay’s lanky body offered. She hid her smirk.

“You’re looking lovely this evening as well, Alice. Perhaps you’re intending to test your date-appropriate clothing out on me? I deem it a smashing success.” He gestured her toward the kitchen. “Although I wouldn’t put it past Jay to sample the food behind my back, he is not doing so at the moment. It’s rather difficult to do when one is not present.”

Jay wasn’t here? That couldn’t be right. She’d shared meals with just Jay or just Henry before, but never at their apartment and always while they were out doing friend stuff.

“What, you ran out of wine and sent him for a bottle?”

“No, I have a delightful bottle of wine for us right here, a Chablis, to complement the cream sauce for the scallops and linguine.”

Henry raised the heat beneath a saucepan simmering on the stove, drained pasta water in the sink and added the noodles to the sauce. He was quick and competent, with elegant motions that always made her wonder if he’d taken dance lessons, though she still hadn’t asked.

“There’s a bit of the wine in the sauce, actually. If you’ll open the refrigerator, you’ll find our salads. Would you mind bringing them to the table?”

“As long as you don’t tell Jay I’m usurping his role as waiter.”

She opened the refrigerator and scooped up two salad plates. No third, not on any shelf. She closed the door, carried the plates to the table and attempted a casual tone. “So where is he tonight, anyway?”

“Help yourself to some cutlery, Alice. You know where everything is.”

She carried forks. Napkins. Wine and glasses.

Henry sliced bread fresh from the oven and plated their pasta. He seated her formally, holding her chair for her, and followed up by pouring the wine before seating himself.

They’d both had a few bites, and she’d expressed her appreciation for the rich sauce and the wine’s tart citrus before she asked again.

“So Jay’s not watching the fireworks with us?”

“I’m beginning to think you’re unhappy to be dining with me, Alice.”

His smile told her he was joking, though she cringed at her own rudeness.

“No, sorry, not at all. I’m just intensely nosy. When you invited me over for the Fourth, I assumed…”

“That Jay and I were joined at the hip?”

Literally. She sipped her wine to stop the laughter bubbling in her gut.

“Something like that, I guess.”

“Ah. Well. As it happens, Jay will be taking in the fireworks picnic-style in the park with a young woman he met while kayaking last month. I packed them a superb supper, if I do say so myself.”

“He’s on a
date
?” Fuck. She hadn’t meant to sound quite so disbelieving.

But Jay? On a date? With a woman? Okay, he flirted with every woman he saw, but he was
with
Henry, wasn’t he?

“He is, yes. Since early this afternoon in fact, as the wristbands for the best seating go quickly.” He continued to eat his pasta and drink his wine as though nothing were amiss.

She wasn’t quite so sanguine.

“It doesn’t bother you?” Did they have some kind of open relationship?

“Not at all, Alice. Should it? Companionship is a joy wherever one finds it, and long-term friends are surely more significant in one’s life than short-term sexual titillations.”

“You mean the two of you aren’t–”

Their sex life was none of her business, and Henry was shy about that sort of thing anyway. No. Not shy. But something. Private. Maybe he just didn’t kiss and tell. A gentleman. A real one.

“It’s a poor friend who cannot understand and accept the needs of others.” Henry’s tone was thoughtful, not chiding, and she relaxed.

She hadn’t offended him. He would politely ignore her gaffe.

“Jay is positively in his element when in the company of a beautiful woman.”

“He does know how to turn on the charm.”

Jay had done it before, with waitresses and instructors and with her, even, but she’d assumed it was a game for him. Damn. Maybe he’d been serious and she’d blown her chance.

The corollary wormed its way into her skull. Tonight’s dinner might be a serious effort from Henry. Was she blowing this, too?

She studied him with new eyes, hoping he hadn’t noticed the shift in her thoughts. She couldn’t help thinking of the last time she’d come with his name on her lips, her vibrator purring between her legs.

He wasn’t so obviously sexual as Jay, throwing out innuendo and showing off his body, but his quiet reserve made him all the more tempting. Repressed. Sexy librarian. She ducked her head to hide her smile.

She resolved to pay more attention, to see what kind of signs Henry was giving off, but he was frustratingly himself. He remained polite through dinner, charming, but nothing she could construe as an overture. She sure as hell wasn’t about to make a move on him first.

How awkward would that be if he was in a committed relationship with Jay? Even if Jay liked women on the side, that didn’t mean Henry did.

They adjourned to the rooftop afterward, where a number of the building’s residents had gathered. The sea of buildings stretching northeast grew taller beyond the lightless swath marking the fenway as the marsh wound through the city.

Henry assured her the downtown fireworks would be visible despite the obstructions.

A neighbor was streaming the radio broadcast of the concert from his laptop. They didn’t have long to wait before the first burst of red and white streaked across the sky and fell to earth.

Booming pops cascaded. Colors dazzled. Henry’s shoulder brushed her back, his fingers grazing her hip.

The contact jolted her, forcing out a gasp.

“Beautiful, wouldn’t you say?”

Christ, had his lips touched her ear? Was she reading too much into it? Henry’s courtesy surely extended to not disturbing the other watchers. Maybe he’d dislodged a strand of her hair.

She nodded, mute. If he thought her reaction owing to the fireworks rather than his nearness, so much the better.

“Powerful,” he murmured. His breath ghosted down the side of her neck.

Please God, don’t let him notice the stiffening under her shirt. Next time she’d wear a bra with thicker fabric.

She resisted the urge to push back into his groin and find out if his body’s reaction mirrored her own. A forward move with a reserved guy like Henry blared louder warnings than a tornado siren.
Fuck, might as well strip in front of the neighbors and ask if he sees something he likes.

Neither romantic nothings nor crude suggestions dropped in her ear. No, he talked about seeing fireworks as a child in Maine. The festival in Augusta, where he’d grown up, was a two-week affair leading up to the fireworks, and he’d gone often.

She told him about summers in South Dakota and the fireworks show at Lake Mitchell. How she and her little sister would run around writing their names in the air with sparklers. It wasn’t even an option in Boston. The whole state had banned fireworks except in large-scale municipal shows with professionals at the fuses.