* * *
Madeline inspected herself from head to toe as she stood in front of
her full-length mirror. She and Rebecca had chosen a floral print minidress,
a blend of cotton and lycra that would look sexy and help her stay
cool in the heat. It buttoned down the front and tied loosely in the back,
softly accentuating her waist. Its A-line skirt and short length set off her
shapely legs, as did the black strappy sandals she wore.
She'd curled her long, auburn hair and secured it into a loose ponytail
with a rhinestone clasp. Her preference had been to let it fall softly around
her shoulders and down her back but she knew that was asking for
trouble in the ever-increasing humidity. After applying a rosy shade of
lipstick and tossing her ID and some money into a smaller bag, she
hurried out the door.
* * *
"He sure wasn't kidding when he said this place wasn't fancy,"
Madeline thought aloud as she pulled her car into a spot on the dirt in
front of the railroad tracks. It was one of the few spaces left within
comfortable walking distance. The music that had penetrated the glass of
her car windows now assaulted her eardrums as she made her way
towards the entrance.
As she maneuvered through the crowd of partiers ranging in age from
21 to 50, Madeline wondered why she ever agreed to this. Not only was
she sick to death of this scene, she hated walking into it alone. "God help
him if he stands me up again," she muttered under her breath. A hand on
her arm detained her from further entry.
"ID please!" a male voice demanded. Madeline looked up to see a
rather large, masculine bouncer whose baby face betrayed his young age,
his impressive physique notwithstanding.
"Sure," she answered, fumbling for her driver's license.
He looked at the card, and then studied her face for a second. "You
sure don't look that old," he commented, knitting his brow.
"I'm well preserved," she retorted sarcastically. "Can I go in now?"
"Go ahead!" He chuckled as he watched her disappear into the
crowd. Replacing her ID to her purse, Madeline walked into the smoky
room, feigning confidence. The odor of stale beer and cigarettes hung in
the air, diffused only slightly by the ceiling fans that spun furiously
overhead. She stared straight ahead as she made her way to the bar,
ignoring the eyes she felt upon her.
People checking out other people, that's what these places were all
about. Upscale or casual, it didn't matter. She felt a wave of relief when
she spotted Mark sitting by the bar in a pair of jeans shorts and a white
golf shirt. She almost didn't recognize him; up to this point, she'd only
seen him in business suits. As if sensing her presence, he turned away
from his conversation to look at her. He smiled as she approached.
"Madeline!" he greeted her with a peck on the cheek.
"Hi!" she smiled sweetly.
"Uh, this is my brother, John," he explained, motioning to the darkhaired
man seated next to him.
"Nice to meet you!" she called over the music.
"Want a beer?"
"What?" She was straining to hear him. He gestured toward the mug
sitting on the bar next to him.
"Oh! I'll just have some cranberry juice, thanks. I am kind of worn
out from being in the sun all day, and I am afraid if I have a real drink I'll
pass out on the spot."
She didn't feel like explaining she wasn't much of a drinker, though
she'd recently been starting to enjoy an occasional glass of wine. However,
beer was something she'd never been quite able to take a liking to. Mark
of course, had already surmised she was a lightweight; the day they'd met
for a drink, she'd only ordered iced tea. It was just one of the many
qualities that separated her from most of the women he knew.
The bartender set down her glass just as the band announced a short
break.
"You were right," Madeline said, "The bands here are pretty good."
"Yeah, but deafening after a while," John noted.
"Not very conducive to conversation, I guess," Madeline smiled.
"Nope. But I warned you it got kind of crazy in here," Mark
reminded her.
"Actually, I believe you told me there would be table dancing, but so
far I haven't seen any. Unless of course, you were both doing it before I
arrived!"
"We haven't had nearly enough to drink yet!" John explained,
laughing in the same manner as his brother. The similarities between them
ended there. John had dark, wavy hair and mischievous brown eyes. He
was slightly shorter than Mark, although just as well-built. As they chatted,
Madeline discovered he worked for the fire department in West Palm
Beach, had lost his wife over a year ago when she died in childbirth, and
spent most of his free time with his son, Michael. In spite of, or maybe
because of the tragedy, he had a wonderful sense of humor.
As she sat on a bar stool in between the two brothers laughing and
talking, Madeline was glad she came out. She felt right at home with them,
discussing everything from politics to music to football. Amazingly, they
shared many of the same conservative views and musical tastes. But when
she told them about her incredible experience at the final game of the
1980 World Series at Veterans Stadium, when the Phillies' Tug McGraw
threw the final strike to beat the Kansas City Royals, Mark teasingly
reminded her that she was "a Marlins girl now."
Every so often, though, John-who appeared somewhat
preoccupied-would get up and leave for a few minutes. It never entered
Madeline's mind that perhaps he was just trying to give his brother time
alone with her, though considering where they were at the moment, it
hardly seemed to matter. And as soon as the band returned, conversation
would be nearly impossible again.
"Mark is something wrong?" she asked, when John left them for the
third time.
"No, he's just a little overprotective of his son. He keeps calling poor
Lindsey to make sure everything is all right. I wish he would just relax. She
watches Michael all the time and there is never a problem. This is the first
time he's been out like this in almost two years. I- everything ok?" Mark
asked, acknowledging his brother's return. John nodded as the band took
over again. Madeline couldn't help but dance in place when they cranked
up one of her favorite dance songs.
"Why don't you two get out there?" John urged, motioning to the
floor. Madeline wasted no time.
"Come on, let's dance!" she ordered, taking Mark by the arm. "You
have enough beers in you!"
He followed her lead to the postage stamp-sized floor.
"Now, don't put me to shame just because you're a dancer!" he called
over the music. They sweated it out on the tiny floor to a set of upbeat
songs, including the Gin Blossoms' Jealousy, a track Madeline hadn't heard
in a while. Despite his earlier reticence, Mark demonstrated some
excellent moves, much to her delight. It was nice to know Ken wasn't the
only strapping man who could cut a rug.
Taking Mark's hands in hers, she attempted to give him a crash lesson
in swing, not an easy feat given the volume of the music and the limited
area in which to move. She laughed as he teased her with his own original
moves. The world spun around and around until finally, the music rose to
a crashing crescendo, and then faded away.
"We're going to slow things down a bit," the lead singer announced,
as a slow ballad began. Madeline's heart skipped a beat as she recognized
the familiar notes of the intro. Then the drummer-a big, burly guy with
an amazingly strong voice-launched into a haunting version of Elton
John's The One.
Oh great! It isn't bad enough that out of all of the love songs in the world, they
had to sing this one, but Mark's just standing there looking like a fish out of water.
Now what?
They locked eyes awkwardly for a moment. She was about to suggest
going back to the bar when suddenly he slipped his arms around her
waist. They began to sway to the music as he held her body close to his.
Despite his embarrassment at having worked up a noticeable sweat, he
liked the feel of her against him, and as he caressed her neck and
shoulders, he breathed in the sweet smell of her perfume. Madeline rested
her head against his chest and closed her eyes, wishing the moment could
go on forever. It felt so good to be in a man's arms again, and his strong
yet gentle embrace was intoxicating. The feel of his hands massaging their
way up and down her back sent a current of electricity through her entire
body.
There would be plenty of time to confront him once the dance was
over. She still wanted-indeed-deserved answers. But for now all she
wanted was to savor these incredible feelings. John, however, had other
ideas as he abruptly interrupted them with a tap on Mark's shoulder.
"I'm ready to go!" he loudly informed his brother.
Mark reluctantly released her and the threesome made their way back
to the bar. Madeline pulled her tousled hair out of the rhinestone clasp,
which had lost its grip on the dance floor. Gathering her damp mane, she
held it on top of her head in an effort to cool off. She tried hard not to
stare as the brothers had a private conference. Moving further down the
counter, she picked up a napkin and pressed it against her face. A minute
later she felt Mark's breath in her ear.
"John wants to leave," he whispered. "We came in one car."
"Well, what do you want to do?" she challenged, her eyes carefully
studying his face.
"I'd like to stay here with you?" he asked, hopefully.
"I suppose I could drive you home later if you're nice to me," she
teased. I'll even walk you to your door if you'd like."
She was glad John was heading out for more than one reason.
Attraction notwithstanding, Mark was far from absolved from his past
behavior. Somehow she would find the strength to confront him about
SunFest. That is, if her mounting passion didn't get in the way first.
Mark smiled, took her face in his hands and planted a light kiss on her
cheek. "You're a sweetheart." He tossed the keys to John, who left after
exchanging pleasantries. Madeline watched him fade into the night. No
more excuses. It was long past time to get her answers. As she mentally rehearsed
the proper way to approach everything, she felt his arm around her waist
again. A shiver of excitement ran up and down her spine.
"Do you want some more cranberry juice?" he asked.
"Sure."
His blue eyes held her for a second before he motioned to the
bartender again. He was glad to be alone with her, finally. In spite of the
noisy surroundings he didn't fight the urge to give her a real kiss. Before
either of them could say another word, he took her by the shoulders and
placed his warm lips on hers. Startled, but liking the feel of him close to
her, she responded. When she felt his tongue, however, she drew back.
"I have a question for you," she announced.
"What is it?" he asked reluctantly, staring straight ahead. He'd had a
feeling this was coming. Not that he didn't deserve it.
Madeline continued, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach;
confrontation was still not one of her favorite things. "What makes this
weekend different from last weekend? I mean, last weekend you uninvited
me to SunFest because you were bothered by-as you put it-'Catholic
guilt' over your ex-fiancée. Fine. Maybe you really did feel bad about
taking another girl out so soon, but it was still a pretty crummy thing to
do, especially since you were the one who came after me. I didn't chase
you. In fact, I couldn't even remember meeting you at the business card
exchange the day you called me at work to invite me out for a drink.
Never mind that all we were talking about was a day at a festival, not a
lifetime commitment or anything."
She was on a roll as her pent-up frustration finally erupted in a
flowing stream of consciousness. Mark said nothing, but continued to
listen. There were no excuses for his behavior and he knew it. Madeline
continued.
"Being Catholic myself, I do understand guilt, although in this case it
seems like it was just a b.s. excuse to get out of a date. What I don't
understand is why you called me three times this past week and invited me
here tonight. Are you suddenly over it, or was it that you just get a better
offer last weekend?"
"You think I took someone else to SunFest?" He was amazed that
someone so beautiful would think such a thing. True, she was a total
departure from the fake, surgically altered women that were so prevalent
in South Florida. That was one of the reasons he was so attracted to her.
He was constantly hit on by superficial females looking to latch onto a
successful man; as arrogant as it sounded, he could basically have any
woman he wanted.
But Mark was more than just a handsome face; he was a down-toearth
guy who wanted a real woman to share his life. And as a father, he
was not about to subject his kids to more drama. They'd already been
through quite enough. Unfortunately it seemed his cold feet had led
Madeline to believe he was a shallow jerk, like so many of the men and
women in this town.
"It did cross my mind. What was I supposed to think after you
dumped me at the last second? I thought maybe you and your fiancée had
gotten back together or something."
"No, that's not true!" he protested honestly. "Gina and I are over.
She is not willing to commit to me by moving here and since I have no
intention of leaving my kids, there was no way it could work. But for
some reason, I did feel guilty about having a date with another woman so
soon, especially one like you. I know I acted like a jerk- hell I am a jerk.
But I am really sorry." He looked deeply into her eyes as he spoke, nearly
mesmerized by their startling intensity.
"Do you feel guilty right now?" Madeline questioned, desperately
wanting to believe in his sincerity.
Taking a chance, he put his arms around her and asked with a sly grin
on his face, "Do I look like I feel guilty?"
As Madeline felt the inevitable fireworks throughout her body as a
result of his touch, she fought to retain some semblance of composure.
"No, but you can understand why I am a little skeptical, can't you? I
almost decided not to come here tonight so you could get a little dose of
your own medicine." It was hard to ignore the chills running up and down
her spine, but she was determined to at least appear strong and in control.
She was no match for his charms, however.
"Then why did you come?" His voice was barely a whisper as he
leaned in close to her ear. More shivers.
"I-I guess I wanted to give you another chance to redeem yourself. I
was hoping you were really a nice guy who just did something stupid."
Her body trembled as he stroked her hair.
"I'm sorry," he repeated softly. "Can I have another chance?" But
before she could answer, he began kissing her hair, her ear and her cheek,
working his way to her neck while his hands remained on her waist. As
she rested her hands on his shoulders, she felt his muscles twitch beneath
her fingers.
"I think I could be persuaded," she managed to utter in response,
before his lips were on hers again. This time she didn't resist when he
slipped his tongue into her mouth.