First and Ten Read online

  First and Ten

  A Carnal Reunions Tale

  By Fran Lee

  Resplendence Publishing, LLC

  http://www.resplendencepublishing.com

  Resplendence Publishing, LLC

  P.O. Box 992

  Edgewater, Florida, 32132

  First and Ten

  Copyright © 2009, Fran Lee

  Edited by Jessica Berry

  Cover art by Rika Singh

  Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-083-5

  Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Electronic release: November 2009

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  To: franjamison@think_tank.com

  From: [email protected]

  Hello to all of Gracie’s Girls, class of 1999. Once again, thanks to all of you for the flowers and phone calls after my aunt Gracie’s passing last winter. You all meant so much to her, and to me.

  As I’m sure you all know, our tenth college reunion is coming up this summer. Since I now have Gracie’s big rambling house all to myself, I’d like to extend an invitation. If any of you are coming back for the reunion, you’re more than welcome to stay here, in your old rooms. Gracie quit taking in college students several years back, so there’s no one here but me, and I’d love to have some company while I’m getting the house ready to put on the market. So what do you say? One last time as roommates? It would be great to see all of you again.

  Hugs,

  Karen

  * * * *

  She hadn’t planned to attend, at least not until she received Karen’s guilt-inspiring e-mail. Every instinct she possessed screamed at her to hit the delete key and pretend the e-mail hadn’t arrived, but she just couldn’t do that. Karen was having financial problems, and had to sell the historic but dilapidated old Victorian house they had all shared in college.

  She shouldn’t feel so gun-shy, but even after all these years, it would be hard for her to go back and see all her old pals with the memories of her college years slamming hard into her refurbished self-image. A self-image that had taken her seven long years of analysis and hard work to create.

  Fran sighed and rubbed her temples, shoving her reading glasses up onto her sleep-tousled head. She received the formal reunion invitation last week, but she had tossed it. No use reliving the whole college scene just to see how everyone else looked…see how many of her friends had kids…how they had changed over the ten years since she’d last seen them. Listen to them telling stories about new babies and favorite pets and how they’d met their husbands.

  All the things Fran had excluded from her life in favor of monetary success and being “her own woman”.

  Fran was a realistic woman now. She refused to kid herself. She had never found the man of her dreams and settled down to raise a family, mainly because it had taken her seven years to get past her own demented mental image of herself. And now that she finally recognized her own worth, and had learned to love herself as she was, she was way past the desire to flaunt her wares and try to trap some unwary male. Besides, most men in her age bracket were already married…or divorced and on the rebound. Or just looking for a one-night stand. So far, that had never quite appealed, no matter how damned good looking the man in question happened to be.

  Men were not a necessity to life. Besides…she’d royally screwed up with the only man she’d ever really wanted any sort of relationship with, long ago.

  She ran her fingers through her wild curls and pressed her thumbs against the bridge of her nose. Back then, she’d been so sure the tentative advances he’d made were simply another way for the jock community at WIU to have a laugh-fest at her expense. She’d reacted defensively, tearing his ego into tiny strips. And then he’d basically left her alone. Damn…

  Only years later, after many long sessions with her uber-patient therapist, had it flashed with astonishing clarity into her mind. Jack Gerrard…her dream man… and he’d actually tried to ask her out on a date. And she had gone off on the man as if he’d just asked her to jump naked into an anthill.

  She gave a sigh of resignation. The worst part of it was she had always had the most pathetic crush on the man—most girls had crushes on the hot, sexy hero of the WIU gridiron.

  Even in high school, Gerrard was always in the company of cheerleaders and prom queens and the most popular girls. They hung all over him like bees around a honey pot. One look from those riveting blue eyes could make any girl drop her panties with a scream of delight. But Jack had ignored them most of the time, keeping up excellent grades so he could play varsity football. She supposed that was the true attraction.

  Sure. There she went, lying to herself again. She had been hot for his ripped body, just like all the other girls. But it had gone deeper than that with her.

  He had offered her some modicum of friendship, and good-looking guys did not want to be pals with Fran Jamison. So when that friendship was withdrawn without explanation or reason, it had torn her up inside.

  Fran leaned back into her leather desk chair. Getting through high school and completing college had taken every ounce of strength she possessed…but she had managed it with top grades. She had avoided Jack Gerrard as if he no longer existed. She had made certain that she built a shell around her mind and soul, and in college, she had toughened up that outer shell to ward off any painful quips the guys made about her size or her height.

  She had graduated first in her class, with a full post grad scholarship to Harvard Business School for her Master’s studies. She’d left WIU behind and had never looked back.

  She had spent the last ten years methodically building one of the most sought-after consulting firms in the world. She had parlayed a first class education into a multi-million-dollar corporation using government grants for seed money, and a sharp business acumen that took her to the top of her profession. Eight and a half years of working 24/7 on her business. Seven years of therapy. A totally new Fran Jamison.

  And now she was actually going back to the beginning of it all? She had more guts than she’d thought. And it almost made her physically ill.

  She typed a quick acceptance, and then slowly closed her laptop. She rose from the desk chair and scratched her head as she yawned capaciously. Glancing into the mirror that graced the far wall…the one with the giant slogan hung over it that said “See not the world through the eyes of others”, she smiled grimly and said, “Okay, Fran…that gives you exactly four days, thirteen hours and twenty six minutes to get your shit together.”

  Chapter Two

  The computer screen blinked as Jack shut down the accounting program with a weary sigh. One of these days, he was really going to have to break down and hire an accountant. His friend Kyle Gillespie had been bugging him to do that, and he had been considering it for the last few months. He had too much on his plate to have to see to the books for every one of the twelve restaurants in the chain he’d built from the ground up. He’d gotten in so far over his head, he’d taken the leap and had hired Kyle as his assistant, then he’d turned over the operations of each satellite restaurant to
experienced managers, and first class chefs, keeping just this one for his own enjoyment. And he did so love being hands-on with this baby!

  But keeping the books for all twelve sites was getting to be too much. They were all pretty much self-supporting at this point, with enough left over each year to pay himself a handsome bonus, as well as giving bonuses to all his employees. Things were going better than he’d ever dreamed.

  He’d considered the idea of dumping the LLC, fully incorporating and offering stock options, but he just didn’t have enough knowledge about stuff like that to make the jump.

  Maybe next year.

  As he reached to turn off the desktop computer, the e-mail flag popped up, and he sighed wearily. “Now what?” he muttered as he clicked on the e-mail link. As the screen came up, he swore softly beneath his breath, and wished he’d shut it off without checking.

  “Ex alert! KA and FD reserved rooms at the Ambassador for Friday p.m. You still working on the plans to cater the Spot’s gala dinner dance? Looks like we will be stuck with the Rec Room because every place is town is packed. Let me know. R”

  He leaned back in his chair and ran both lean hands through his mussed hair, before scrubbing his palms down over his unshaven face. Of course, Kelli Anne would be there. She wouldn’t miss any opportunity to show off her newest catch. Why had he even bothered to hope that his ex would stay in Kansas City and leave him the hell alone? When had she not grabbed every opportunity she could to come back into his life and wreak havoc?

  He wondered what had ever possessed him to ask her to marry him in the first place. Never mind. He knew what had possessed him. Kelli Anne Darnell had been the one of the hottest women on campus, and she’d chased him with single-minded purpose. He’d convinced himself that she loved him. He’d even convinced himself that marrying Kelli Anne was better than being alone.

  He had no wish to see Kelli Anne again. And she would certainly be at the dinner over at the Spot. If he catered, she would be underfoot all night, as usual. He shook his head. Hell. He would simply have Kyle do the catering for the Wet Spot. Spending the entire night in the unvarnished company of his ex teammates wasn’t exactly his idea of an enjoyable evening, anyway.

  He had spent four lost years living in the old frat house. He had too many memories stuck in his craw. He had no wish to go back to the place where stupidity had taken over and his good sense had deserted him.

  As for socializing at the reunion, he would go to the cocktail party at the Ambassador, but that was about it. That way he would severely limit any contact with Kelli Anne and Faris Devlin.

  Faris Devlin. He rubbed his temples gently. That shitty little weasel! He had wondered when his ex would finally tie up with the man who had helped her siphon off almost every penny he had to his name while he was laid up in the hospital. What had it taken? Three years?

  No big surprise.

  Kelli Anne had loved being the glamorous, pampered wife of a seven million dollar a year pro quarterback, but when he’d been badly injured, lying in traction and splints, with metal pins holding his wrecked shoulder together, she’d seen the end coming, and had scrambled to protect her own interests. Kellie Anne had used a power of attorney she had gotten him to sign so she could handle his affairs, and had switched all of Jack’s assets into her name, including the houses, the cars and the bank accounts. He supposed he couldn’t blame her. He was no longer her “trophy male” with a brilliant future.

  He had let her keep what she’d already snatched from him in the divorce, provided she never asked him for another dime in the future, and she’d agreed, never imagining that Jack Gerrard would amount to a hill of beans outside the pro football arena.

  So she hadn’t gotten a dime of the two million dollars in disability insurance that he’d bought long before he became the starting QB for the Kansas City Chiefs. He’d picked up that policy while playing college ball, and now he was damn glad he’d continued making the hefty payments on it through his pro years. That money had been seed money for his restaurant…and that one restaurant had grown to a chain of a dozen over the past five years. Jack Gerrard’s First and Ten had become all the rage in four states.

  He rubbed the bridge of his nose, then typed a response to the e-mail, and shut down his computer, leaning back into his chair.

  Their ten-year reunion. He’d gone to the first five-year reunion after the divorce, hoping he would see her there. He leaned his head back and wondered if she would be there this time. He hadn’t seen her in all those years. He’d heard that she’d made a big name for herself in the business world. But he had never been able to bring himself to ask her friends if she had married. If she had a family. It was hard to think she might have six kids by now with some lucky man. And he might have been that lucky man…if only he’d thought with his brains instead of his ego so long ago.

  No use crying over spilled milk. Life went on. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

  He rose irritably and stalked out the door. A five mile run down by the river’s edge would feel damn good. Help him get things straight in his mind. Keep him from those recurring day dreams.

  * * * *

  “Gerrard here.” He glanced from his menu program to the caller ID, then pressed the speaker button and continued adding menu items for the following week. “What’s up, love?”

  “I need you to pick up another passenger when you drive out to the airport tonight, Jack.” Karen’s voice came through the speaker brightly.

  “What flight?” he asked absently as he typed in Chateaubriand with Pinot Noir Sauce.

  “Flight 2390 from Chicago. It arrives at 9:45. No shuttles except once every two hours, and you know how bad the taxi service is at the airport.”

  His inhaled slowly. Chicago? His body reacted to even the minute possibility…

  “Who am I looking for?” His voice was taut.

  “Fran Jamison. You’ll have room, won’t you? I know you already have to pick up Bill, Grant and Frank. Should I ask someone else?”

  He sat there in stunned silence for a moment before responding. His mind wrapped itself fiercely around the name. Should she ask someone else? No fucking way!

  “Um…no…I’ll take the catering van.” He managed to sound calm.

  “Thanks, Jack! I owe you! I can’t get away tonight and was so worried!”

  “No prob, love…” he replied, and pressed the end button as his breath whooshed out. He stared at Saturday’s lunch menu without seeing it.

  She was coming.

  His gut clenched and his cock decided it had a mind all its own as it doubled its size in seconds. He shook off the feeling of surreality, and closed down the program, his mind and body warring over what he needed to do next. His mind finally won. Glancing at his watch, he figured he had just enough time to unload the restaurant supplies he’d picked up earlier in the day, and catch a quick shower before he had to leave for the airport. He moved mechanically, in show motion. All he could manage to think was…she’s coming.

  Chapter Three

  “Hey, Karen! I’m at the airport. Did you arrange for a ride?” Fran sidestepped a gaggle of sniffling kids with a frazzled mother trying to herd them along to the baggage pickups, her nose wrinkling. God, how she hated airports! Hundreds of people jammed together like sheep—people who didn’t know how to cover their mouths when they coughed jostling with those begging for nickels and quarters for this charity or that. She gave a firm shake of her head and ignored the bowl a young person wearing an orange robe shoved under her nose. “Sorry…I have no change on me…” she lied.

  “Bless you, sister.” The young man smiled beatifically, and she winced at her own lack of resolve as she hesitated and switched her roll-along handle to her left hand. She heaved a long-suffering sigh and used her free hand to fish a small fistful of change from the bottom of her jacket pocket, dumping it into and over the sides of the bowls.

  “Thank you very much!” the youth grinned.

  “Yeah…sur
e…” She gritted her teeth as she managed to switch her roll-along case to her right hand again.

  She had missed everything that Karen was saying, and all she caught was, “…should be there by now. Probably waiting by the baggage pickup for your flight…”

  She barely screeched to a halt before falling over a child who’d bent over to pick up one of the dimes she’d scattered. She almost dropped the phone and just caught it, only to find that she’d disconnected the damn call during her juggling act.

  For Pete’s sake! Just get me out of here, Lord!

  Unfortunately, not a single saint or deity was paying her the slightest attention.

  With a groan of disgust, she craned her neck around the area, looking for the signs that would lead her out of this zoo…and collided hard with a solid body standing directly in her path.

  “Oh, God! I’m so sorry!” She gasped as she found herself suspended above the floor by the grace of God, and one hell of a powerful arm wrapped firmly around her waist. Her roll-along overnight case dangled precariously from her fingertips, and she clutched her shoulder bag with her laptop in a death grip while attempting vainly to get her slippery leather-soled shoes back where they belonged—under her.

  “Here…let me take that bag so you can get your balance, Franny.” The far too familiar voice came from the direction of the body holding onto hers.