around her and gave her head a good rub. “But I’ll keep you, anyway.”
The commercial for laser skin treatment ended and Chica was forgotten as an image of the city of Portland came on the screen, accompanied by perky music. A disembodied voice called out, “Good morning, Oregon!”
Then there she was—trim, blonde and beautiful—seated at a couch in a fake living room next to a gray-haired guy wearing slacks and an expensive shirt.
Scott Lawrence. Jonathan frowned at the sight of him. Media guys, they were just too smooth. Now who’s jealous?
He was, of course. Talk about stupid. In order to be jealous of other men, you first had to be with the woman. Jonathan was not with Lissa Castle, never had been.
“Well, Lissa, I’m sure your weekend was stellar,” Scott said to her.
“Yes, it was.” She had such a sweet voice, so full of cheer and kindness. Lissa had always been kind.
“Did you have a hot date?” Scott teased. “What am I saying? Of course you had a hot date.”
She neither denied nor confirmed, just sat in her leather chair and smiled like the Mona Lisa in a pink blouse.
Which meant she’d had a hot date, Jonathan deduced miserably.
Her cohost turned to face the camera. “Speaking of dates, some of you out there in our viewing audience might be doing internet dating and finding it frustrating.”
“It can be stressful when it comes time to meet that other person off-line,” Lissa said. “And that’s why I know you’re going to appreciate our first guest this morning, who’ll be sharing tips with us on how to transition from online to face time.”
Sometimes even face time didn’t win a girl, Jonathan thought sadly, not when the girl was out of a guy’s league.
He’d been in love with Lissa ever since he’d discovered girls. In fact, Lissa had been the first girl he discovered when she moved in next door at the age of nine. They’d become pals, which was great when he was nine. But as they got older and she got even prettier, Jonathan began to look beyond the borders of friendship.
He wasn’t the only one. During high school, his friend Rand took a new interest in Lissa once she became a cheerleader. And she was interested right back.
Hardly surprising, since Rand was the cool one. When they were kids, everyone had fought over Rand while picking teams for playground softball games. In high school he’d been captain of the football team. The boys all wanted to be his bud and the girls all looked at him like he was a free trip to Disneyland.
As for Jonathan, he was captain of...the chess team, and hardly any girls looked at him at all. Not that he’d wanted any girl but Lissa.
No matter what he’d done, though, he couldn’t win her interest. She always thought of him simply as her good friend.
He’d wanted to be more. When they were juniors, in the hopes of getting her to see him in a new way, he’d sneaked into Icicle Falls High early on Valentine’s Day and taped a hundred red paper hearts to her locker.
But she’d thought Rand had done it. Rand happily took the credit and took Lissa to the junior prom. And Jonathan took a swing at Rand. And that was the end of their friendship.
But not the end of Rand and Lissa. They were an item clear through senior year.
As for Jonathan, he wasn’t an item with anyone. He’d tried, gone out with a few girls as desperate as he was, but every time he’d closed his eyes and kissed a girl he’d seen Lissa.
After everyone graduated and scattered he still saw her on holidays when she was in town visiting her parents and he was over at his folks’ next door. Once in a while they’d talk. He’d say brilliant things like, “How’s it going?” and she’d ask him questions like, “Anyone special in your life yet?” He’d never had the guts to say, “There’s been someone special in my life since I was nine.”
When his dad died, she’d sent him a card telling him how sorry she was. Mostly, though, she just waved to him while hurrying down her front walk to catch up with girlfriends. He’d tried not to see when she left on the arm of the latest local whose attention she’d captured.
A couple of summers ago, he’d seen her when she came home to surprise her mom for her birthday. He’d been at his mom’s, up on a ladder painting the side of the house, when she called a cheery hello from next door.
He’d almost lost his balance at the sound of her voice.
“Jonathan Templar, paint specialist. And I thought you were only a computer genius,” she’d teased from the other side of the hedge that ran between their houses.
He’d had a perfect view of her from his perch on the ladder and the view was great. She’d looked like a cover girl for a summer issue of some women’s magazine in her pink top and white shorts.
“That, too,” he’d said, then asked, “Are you in town for long?”
“Only the weekend.”
He knew what that meant. This moment was all he’d have with her.
“We’ve got Mom’s big birthday dinner tonight. Then brunch tomorrow and then I’ve got to get back to Portland. I don’t think I’ll even have time to bake you any cookies. How sad is that?” Before he could answer, her cell phone had rung. “I know, I’m on my way,” she’d said, and ended the call. “I’m late, as usual,” she’d said to Jonathan. “I’d better get going. Good to see you, Jonathan. You look great.” Then she’d hurried off down her front walk, her long, blond hair swinging.
That hadn’t been the only thing swinging. Watching her hips as she walked away had been hypnotic, addictive. And dumb.
Jonathan had leaned over to keep her in view just a little longer and lost his balance. With a startled cry, he’d grabbed for the ladder but only succeeded in bringing the bucket of paint down on himself as he fell, turning him blue from head to toe. A one-man Blue Man Group act.
He’d bruised his hip in the process, but his ego had taken an even bigger hit when Lissa came running to where he’d fallen. “Jonathan, are you okay?”
He’d been far from okay. He’d been mortified, his face probably red under the blue paint. But he’d said, “Oh, yeah. No problem. I’m fine.”
Then his mom had come out and started fussing over him and that had been the final humiliation. He’d tried to wash his clothes and turned his underwear baby blue, and it had taken him days to get the last of the paint off. Bits of it stubbornly lingered under his fingernails to remind him of what a dork he was. Well, that and the blue undies.
Lissa did find time to bake him cookies. She’d dropped them by his place on her way out of town.
He’d tried to play it cool by leaning one hand against the door frame but had missed the mark and nearly lost his balance. Again.
She’d pretended not to notice. “I just stopped by to make sure you didn’t break anything.”
“Naw, I’m fine.” His briefs were another story, but he wisely kept that bit of information to himself.
“That’s good,” she said, handing over the paper plate of goodies. “But if you had broken something, I’d have signed your cast.”
Would you have kissed it and made it all better? That had been an unusually clever remark. Too bad he hadn’t thought of it until she was long gone. But even if he had, he’d have never gotten up the nerve to say it. Instead, he’d said, “Then I’d have to save the cast ’cause your signature will probably be valuable someday.”
That had made her smile and making her smile had made his day.
“See you soon,” she’d called as she got in her car.
“Yeah, see you,”