And then, for God’s sake, she hoped he would give up and then would get back to what they were clearly very good at, which was banging each other into oblivion, and then he would be gone from her life.
But he answered her question.
“I did at first. Miss all the craziness aroundBlood Brothers, that is. But those years were like someone dropped a bag of cash from an airplane and I had to grab as much as possible of everything thrown my way before it all blew away. And that included rolesandrelationships. So during that time I was so busy grabbing, it was hard to know how much of it I reallyenjoyed. It was only after it settled down, if that makes sense.”
“Roles and relationships.” She wondered if that was a reference to Rebecca Corday. Five years was a long time for someone like him to be with one person. And their breakup was fairly recent, in relationship terms.
Then again, breaking up was seldom quick and effortless. It was often a long time in the making.
She ought to know.
And John Tennessee McCord was allegedly allergic to the “L” word.
She supposed that was something Rebecca Corday ought to know.
“It’s hard to get a perspective on events, and even people, when you’re in the thick of them,” she said. “And it’s hard to know which opportunities are right for you, and which ones you just think you should want.”
He quirked a corner of his mouth. “Yeah... wanting... that’s a killer. Recently, I had a shot at a part I wanted more than... literally more than any other part in my entire career. I wanted it so much it was nearly physical pain. A script calledLast Call in Purgatory. Fantastic writing. Set at the end of World WarII, about a washed-up formerly brilliant writer who’s kind of a lush and the woman he’s in love with. I auditioned three times. Anyway, I heard back this week. And... I didn’t get it.”
“Oh, J. T. I’m so sorry.”
He shrugged. “It’s Hollywood. Anything can happen. But the competition... and thewanting...you can try to be Zen about it. But that letdown is never not a killer.”
“I think all that means is you’re a competitor. And one thing I learned as a cheerleader is you have to actually learn how to fall in a way that doesn’t break anything essential as well as do those backflips.”
He took this in thoughtfully. “Backflips...” he repeated musingly.
As if he was getting ideas about what they ought to do after dinner.
But she knew he was processing what she’d just said.
She took a deep breath. She could do this. She could give a little something else of herself to him.
“For a little while... I gave up a lot of stuff I used to love. It just sort of... happened that way. But lately... I’ve started to think that wanting things... really,reallywanting things... is how you know you’re still alive.”
He said... absolutely nothing.
She was beginning to understand that J. T. was likely feeling the most and thinking the most when his expression was least readable.
Some errant, fiercely tender impulse swept through her. Because he might be direct, and he might be tough, but something told her she was getting at places he normally kept protected.
And then his mouth turned up at the corner ruefully. And he leaned toward her, across that lit votive candle.
“By that definition, Britt, I’m more alive than any guy on the planet. Because you have noideahow I much I want you.”
Good God.
He could so easily render her breathless.
She stared at him.
Suddenly they were the only two people on the planet, and neither of them had any purpose or goal or need beyond the physical. And maybe that’s all this ever needed to be.
“Feel like proving it?”
“Think we can get dinner to go?”
“I’ll get you anything you want, sweetheart.”
