Better Than Perfect Page 12

  “So, you must get tired of fans who think they own you because they buy a ticket.” She certainly did.

  “I’m used to it.” Johnny sat stiff in the plush leather seat, bothered by more than just the loudmouths at their table.

  They rode on through the city. Heading the opposite direction of her house. They must be going to his place. Close to the ballpark.

  “Don’t you ever get tired of the Harrisons?” Johnny asked after a few minutes of silence. “They act as if they own you.”

  “Is that what you think?” She was surprised. Then she recalled their conversation at dinner. The way they referred to her as “our Alice.”

  “I guess it was Mel who brought you home, and stuck you on a shelf like some kind of prize.” Johnny’s voice sounded strained. As if he worked really hard to control his anger.

  “Are you saying I was a trophy wife?” She couldn’t help but laugh at that. She couldn’t have felt more out of place on Mel’s arm.

  “Something like that. Only you were mine.” The hurt in his voice made her reach for his hand. “He had everything. Money. Family. A name he could be proud of. He took the one thing in this world I had besides baseball. He took you.”

  “Johnny, I’m sorry we hurt you. Neither of us meant for it to happen. It just did.” This was hardly the conversation to get them in the mood. But maybe it was for the best. They really should hash it all out. Get to the truth before they even had a chance to make love.

  If they had a chance at all.

  “So how did it happen? How did you and Mel end up together?”

  “I was missing you.” She let go of his hand. “We both were. So we turned to each other.”

  “I see.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

  “One night we went out to one of the casinos. Had a little too much to drink and instead of driving…” She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t tell Johnny about how she’d woken up in that hotel room, naked and full of regret.

  “You don’t need to tell me any more.” Johnny let out a huge sigh. “I think we need to put the past behind us.”

  Yes, but before they could do that, she needed to tell him everything.

  “Johnny, the thing is…”

  The car lurched to a stop.

  “I promised you a romantic evening.” Johnny placed his fingers over her lips. “I need to deliver. Let’s go up to my place, shall we?”

  One simple touch and Alice forgot about everything but getting this man into bed. It had been so long, yet her body remembered exactly what he could do to her.

  Johnny paid the driver and led her to his apartment building. Once in the elevator, he took her hand. He seemed nervous, almost shy all of a sudden, so she squeezed his hand reassuringly.

  “Don’t worry, you’re going to get lucky.” She smiled up at him flirtatiously, but he didn’t smile back. He simply unlocked the door and led her inside.

  “I haven’t had time to really decorate.” He apologized for his apartment’s sparse décor. His lack of clutter. “I’ve barely even unpacked.”

  She glanced around the room. It was a newer place, spacious and open. An efficient, state-of-the-art kitchen on one side, the living area on the other. A large picture window offered a gorgeous view of the ballpark. The walls were bare. He had a leather sofa, matching chair, stereo equipment and a large flat screen TV. A couple of barstools lined the kitchen counter and that was about it.

  It felt very temporary. Like he wasn’t planning on sticking around. But then, Johnny had never been big on possessions. Back in college, he’d been happy with his ball and his glove. His beat-up Jeep to get him to practice and to take a drive when the pressure got to him. Or when they needed a change of scenery. As much as she’d loved hanging out at his and Mel’s apartment, sometimes they needed space. And a person couldn’t find more space than the Northern Nevada desert.

  “Can I get you a drink, or something?” Johnny smoothed his hands down the front of his tuxedo jacket. “I have some wine. Or a beer.”

  “Sure.” She’d had maybe four sips of champagne all evening, so the buzzed feeling had nothing to do with alcohol. “I’ll have whatever you’d prefer.”

  Johnny had never been a big drinker. He didn’t like to give up control. But Mel had been a microbrew aficionado. He’d even experimented with home brewing back in college. That made for some interesting concoctions.

  Johnny pulled a couple of Anchor Steams from his refrigerator. A local craft beer that Mel introduced to them back when most of their classmates were downing cheap light beer by the case.

  “Glass?” he asked, prying the off the caps and tossing the opener back in the drawer.

  “No. The bottle’s fine.” No use dirtying any dishes. It almost appeared as if his kitchen hadn’t even been used. It seemed so lonely.

  “Cheers.” Johnny held his bottle up in a toast.

  “Cheers.” She took a long drink. The rich amber liquid slid down her throat. But it didn’t quench her thirst for him.

  The awkwardness continued. Somehow the magic they felt for each other had faded, as if neither remembered how to get started. She had an excuse, having been widowed for so long. Maybe Johnny was used to women throwing themselves at him. She tried not to think about how many he’d caught.

  It didn’t matter. What he’d done when they were apart was his business. She’d let the mere idea of him being with another woman ruin their relationship years ago. Time to get over it. She wanted him, even if it was only for tonight.

  “Can I use your bathroom?” She finished her beer and placed the empty bottle on the sleek granite counter.

  “Sure, there’s one in the hall and another in my bedroom.” He sipped slowly from his bottle. Stalling. But he looked at her with longing. An ache they both felt.

  She chose the one in his bedroom.

  * * * *

  Johnny didn’t quite know what to do with himself. He hadn’t had a woman up to his apartment in recent memory. The last woman he’d dated had complained that he never had her over to his place. That he didn’t let her in, whatever that meant. As if seeing someone’s choice of furnishings somehow made a deeper connection. What did it say about him that he didn’t hang pictures on the wall? That he spent his money on exercise equipment instead of throw pillows and knick-knacks?

  Other than in college, he’d never spent much time at home. As a kid, he stayed away as much as possible. He preferred to be at the ballpark, or even an empty field, instead of stuck inside watching soap operas or talk shows with his mother or her roommates. He never brought friends over, that was for sure. So, entertaining wasn’t something that came naturally.

  “Hey Johnny, could you help me with something?” Ali called from the back of the apartment. Oh no, did he forget to put towels out? Or worse?

  He found her in his bedroom. On his bed. Naked.

  He swallowed. Hard. “What do you need?”

  “You.” She stretched out on his bed, giving him the perfect view of what she was offering. “Well?”

  “You’re beautiful.” So beautiful he couldn’t move. The last time they’d made love, he’d been twenty-one. And desperate to show her everything he’d been unable to tell her about how he felt.

  They’d broken up weeks before. But he’d stopped by her place on his way out of town. One last attempt at changing her mind. He was scared and hurt and a little bewildered by her insistence he go off to the minor leagues unencumbered. He wanted to tell her he needed her. He loved her. But the words wouldn’t come. So he’d done the only thing he could.

  Nearly out of his mind with the thought of losing her, he’d made love to her in a frantic and fumbling fashion.

  He wasn’t going to let her get away this time.

  “So, come get me.” She shifted, turning away from him slightly, like she might be having second thoughts.

  That got him moving.

  He shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket, grabbing a condom out of the pocket before droppi
ng it on the floor. He kicked off his ridiculously shiny shoes and tugged at his collar.

  Ali rose from the bed and helped him with his buttons. His zipper. She snuggled against him, burying her face in his chest.

  “Johnny…” She inhaled as she slid his boxer-briefs down his thighs. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed this.”

  “Me too.” He eased her back toward the bed. “You’re even more beautiful than I remember.”

  “Oh, please. I’ve gained weight. After having Zach.” She blushed, covering her stomach with her hands.

  He laid her on the bed then slid in next to her. He put his hand on her stomach and stroked her skin, so smooth, so soft, so perfect.

  “Beautiful,” he said again. Brushing his lips across her exquisite skin, he kissed her on the mouth. The soft spot behind her ear. He flicked his tongue into the hollow of her collarbone. Then blew gently, eliciting a sound that was part whimper, part giggle. He moved down her body, tasting her along the way. He paused between her breasts, deciding which one to savor first, slid his right hand over her left breast and lowered his mouth to her right nipple. A flick, a swirl, and then he pulled her into his mouth.

  She moaned, whimpered, begged for more.

  He dragged kisses across her chest to take in her other breast, moved his hand down her body, grazing her hip as she thrust forward. Her skin was silky, soft. And sensitive, too, judging by the way she squirmed beneath his touch. He slipped his hand between her thighs, finding her sweet spot. She was so hot. So wet. So perfect.

  More unintelligible noises escaped her throat as he stroked, dipped and drew out her orgasm. Her sounds became more urgent and he knew he’d be in trouble if he didn’t give her what she wanted.

  Him. Inside her. Now.

  He tore open the condom wrapper and covered himself. Then he plunged deep inside her.

  They came together and it was like they’d never been apart. He remembered where and how she liked to be touched. He recalled the taste of her. The soft little noises that quickly turned into insistent moans. Their bodies collided with the present and the past.

  She cried out his name. For real this time. Not like the thousands of dreams he’d had over the years. The times he’d woken up in a strange hotel room in a strange city, sweaty with his heart racing and for a moment, in that place between asleep and awake, he’d swear Ali was there with him. Sometimes, he worried her nightmare had come true, and he’d open his eyes to find a nameless stranger in the bed next to him. But it was only Ali. It had always been only Ali. Or rather, the dream of her.

  But tonight she was real. She was beneath him, rocking with pleasure. Accepting everything he had to give. The only thing he’d been able to give her way back then.

  It was over far too quickly. But they had all night. A fact he planned to take full advantage of as soon as he was able. Until then, he was happy to just hold her. To feel her warm body pressed against him. Her heart beating in her chest, slowly creeping down to a steady pace.

  They fell asleep. Woke up and made love again. Then drifted into a peaceful, perfect state of bliss.

  This. This was what he’d been missing. What he’d longed for more than anything. This was the real reason he’d come to San Francisco.

  * * * *

  “Do you want to watch a movie?” Zach’s friend Ty was trying to get him to stop thinking about his mom being out with Johnny Scottsdale, but it wasn’t working. Not when he couldn’t stop wondering if he was more than just her old boyfriend.

  “I don’t care.” Zach knew he wasn’t much fun tonight. But he was tired of playing dumb old video games. He wasn’t interested in watching YouTube videos of people doing stupid stuff. And he had absolutely no desire to try to sneak a beer from Ty’s mom’s fridge out in the garage.

  “You’re not much fun tonight.” Ty was one to talk. It was like he was in some kind of funk, and only wanted to bring Zach down with him.

  “Yeah. I guess not.” He’d brought his ball and his glove. But Ty hadn’t wanted to play catch. Even though the park was right across the street. Ty had stopped playing baseball a few years ago.

  “So did Johnny Scottsdale give you that glove?” he asked in a way that sounded like he was kind of making fun of him. Like he thought it was lame to be so excited about meeting the guy who’d been his hero for so long. A guy who might be a whole lot more.

  “No. I’ve had this glove for years.” It was exactly like Johnny’s. That’s why he’d wanted it. So he could be like his hero. Maybe he was like him in a whole lot of ways. Like, genetically.

  “I can’t believe you’re still into that. I mean, it was okay when we were kids, but baseball’s kind of boring.”

  “No it’s not.” Zach never understood why Ty quit playing. He was good. He could hit the ball a lot farther than Zach could. At least, he could when they were eleven. “I like playing baseball. I hope I can play in high school. Maybe even college.”

  “You think hanging around Johnny Scottsdale is going to help you catch the eye of college scouts?” Again, his tone made it sound like he didn’t like Johnny. Or baseball. Or even Zach.

  “He’s already helping me. I can tell I’ve made improvement in only a week.” And he had. He could feel it when he threw the ball. He could hear it when it hit the glove. He just needed to face a couple of batters to know for sure.

  “Boy, are you blind.” Ty picked up a gaming magazine and flipped through it. “Didn’t he go out with your mom tonight? You know he was only using you to get into her pants.”

  “Don’t talk about my mom like that.” Zach balled his fist. He punched his glove, since he was still holding it. Like some sort of security blanket. “She’s not like that.”

  “Sure, she is.” Ty rolled up the magazine. If Zach tossed him the ball, he could have used it as a bat. “All women are. And all men are only after one thing. Then once they get it, they take off.”

  “Does your mom have a new boyfriend?” Zach knew how much it bothered his friend that his mother couldn’t keep a steady boyfriend. She’d dated lots of guys after the divorce and none of them stuck around too long.

  “Yeah. This one’s a real loser. He tries to be all buddy-buddy with me. Like it makes up for him sleeping with my mom if he takes me to a ballgame or something.”

  Was that why Johnny was being so nice to him? Because he wanted to sleep with his mom? Or was it because he felt guilty? Before he could dwell on it too much, Ty’s mom poked her head in the door.

  “Oh, you two are still up.” She sounded kind of disappointed, but not really surprised.

  “If you want to have Doug come over, don’t wait for us to fall asleep.” Ty glared at his mom. “I know he comes over after you think I’m in bed. Don’t let me get in the way of your booty call.”

  “Tyler James!” Her face got all red. She was either really embarrassed or really mad. Or both. Then her face twisted like she was sad all of a sudden and she shook her head. “God, you look just like your father right now.”

  She turned and shut the door.

  “Yeah? Maybe I should go live him full time then. So you won’t have to look at me.” Ty yelled at the closed door.

  “You really want to do that?”

  “No. My dad’s a prick.” Ty grabbed Zach’s baseball. Turned it over in his hands. “But at least I wouldn’t make her cry every time she looks at me.”

  Zach didn’t know what to say about that.

  “If she hates him so much, why did she ever marry him?” Ty wondered out loud. “I mean, why did she get together with him in the first place? I know why she married him. She had to.”

  “Sorry. My parents got married because of me, too.” Zach kind of felt sorry for Ty right now. At least Zach’s mom wasn’t angry all the time.

  “You’re lucky your dad died.” Ty flopped on his bed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just, you know, better than having two parents who hate each other. But they have to deal with each other. Because of me.”


  Zach wished he could go home. But he had a feeling his mom wasn’t alone. That would be too weird.

  “I gotta take a leak.” Zach excused himself to the bathroom. He washed his hands and splashed water on his face. He stared into the mirror. He wondered what his mom thought when she saw him. No one ever said he looked like his dad. In fact, they often commented on how different he was. Maybe it was because his dad wasn’t really his dad.

  He studied himself more closely. Could he be Johnny’s son? They both had brown eyes. Big deal. Lots of people had brown eyes. But not his mom. Or his so-called dad. His eyes had been hazel. Like Nannie’s. But Grandpa Mel had brown eyes. Only they were much lighter than Zach’s.

  He used to practice Johnny’s on-the-mound scowl. The intense stare-down of the batter. He had it down pretty good. Was it because he worked at it, or did it come naturally?

  He wished he could just ask his mom to tell him the truth. But if she’d lied to him, she must have had a good reason. Like maybe Johnny had left them. Maybe he didn’t want to get married and end up like Ty’s parents, hating each other.

  Maybe he should be glad.

  But he still needed to know. He was a big kid. Almost grown up in a lot of ways. He could handle the truth.

  * * * *

  Johnny woke to find Ali getting dressed. Was she planning on sneaking out?

  “I need to get going,” she whispered. Like they weren’t the only two people in the apartment. “Zach is an early riser. Always has been. He could call and if I’m not home...”

  Zach. He’d forgotten all about her son. The reason she’d married Mel after their rebound encounter.

  “I’ll drive you. Give me a minute.” Johnny sat up, rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He was normally an early riser, too. But last night had been incredible.

  “I can call a cab.” She pulled on those strappy sandals of hers that sparkled and shined and made her legs look amazing.

  “Like hell, you will.” Johnny dropped his feet to the floor. He knew better than to expect that everything was going to be perfect between them. But he certainly didn’t expect this. Her trying to sneak out like some…some groupie. “I’ll take you home. Come on, Ali. You can’t take a cab from my house in the dress you wore last night. You know there were reporters at the party last night. I’m not that famous, but still…”