Page 35 of Unexpecting

″If I was Anil, I would not want to meet Morgan in a dark alley.” I began to knead my temples. After dinner, Brit left to meet Tom, but Morgan didn’t want to go home alone and convinced me to go a nearby pub and get a drink with her. I don’t know how long we stayed there, but it was long enough for me to develop a monstrous headache from the noiseand (no offense to Morgan) the monotony of the conversation. Normally, when I play the listener, I end up drinking way more than I should, just to have something to do between nods and sympathetic noises. But tonight I somehow managed to keep it to three glasses. I can’t keep trying to make believe I’m twenty-five any longer. Thirty-six is rushing me like a three-hundred-pound linebacker, followed by the evil thirty-seven, and it’s time to begin acting my age. I used to be able to spend the night drinking and then wake up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed to go to work, only to continue the cycle that night again, but I can’t do that anymore. Well, I can, but I need to stop.

″Here.” J.B. shifted on the couch and turned me so that my back was facing him. He began to rub my shoulders, and at that first touch, I almost swooned at how nice it felt. “She’s pretty pissed, is she?”

″Who?” I asked dreamily. J.B.’s hands are big and strong, and I could feel the tension drain out of me like a slow leak in a balloon.

″Morgan. The person you spent the evening with.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s just that you should really think of taking up massage therapy, you know. But yeah, Morgan. She’s very, very pissed,” I agreed, returning with a thunk to reality. “The worst thing is that Anil’s not saying why—I think it’s probably some other woman, but I’m not about to tell Morgan that. I’m afraid it will put her over the edge. Mmmm,” I gave a little moan, my eyes slowly closing. So much for Morgan. “That feels so good.” J.B.’s hands were moving from my shoulders to the back of my neck and then onto my head, giving me a better scalp massage than even my hairstylist does.

″You’ve got so much hair,” J.B. said quietly. His fingers were tangled in my red curls.

″I’ll never know how Libby didn’t end up with some of it, even the colour. And it’s bad when I go out with the girls, and it’s the three of us, with Brit and Morgan and their perfect blondeness and me with all this frizz. I’ve always understood Anne of Green Gables going on about how horrible it is to have carrot-red hair.”

″Well, I happen to like it. You’re like a frizzy carrot.”

″Thanks, Jerk.” J.B. tugged a hank of my hair in response.

″So, fun with Morgan tonight, I guess. But are you going to tell me what went wrong with the old ex, or save it for Cooper?” J.B. surprised me by asking.

″I thought you didn’t want to know.” I half-turned around to look at him.

″No, I said I didn’t think it would work out. Hearing how you crash and burn is always worth a laugh,” he teased.

″Jerk. Why do you think something went wrong?”

J.B. shrugged. “I figure that’s what most of the headache is from. I think I know you well enough to tell when something is bothering you.” I turned back around, and J.B. resumed his massage, to my undying gratitude. “So what happened last night? On your date? With David?” he said with more than a little sarcasm in his voice.

″He didn’t kiss me back,” I told him reluctantly.

Ah.” His fingers tightened on my shoulders for a second. “You kissed him.”

″Just a little good-night kiss. But then he pulled away and said, ‘Ah,’ just like you just did. What’s that mean?”

″I have no idea.”

″Well, what did you mean when you said it?” I urged. At the moment I had the potential for insight into a man’s head, and there was no way I was stopping until I got some answers. “Ah.” But J.B. didn’t answer for a moment. “You still there? What did you mean?”

″Truth? I didn’t like hearing that you kissed him.”

I turned around again, my mouth open with surprise. “What?”

″Just being honest.”

″Yes, but why?”

″You don’t want me to be honest? You’d rather I lie and say I’m jumping for joy at the thought of you doing this? I don’t want to see you get hurt again, as much as I enjoy teasing you about it.”

″Oh.” I didn’t know if relief or regret was the stronger emotion running rampant through me right then. “So that’s all.”

″All what?” J.B. asked innocently.

″Nothing. Never mind.” I gave my head a shake. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea to talk to you about this.”

″Suit yourself. I thought it might help the headache. Are you going out with him again?”

″Tomorrow night. We’re going to dinner.”

″Ah.”

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