“The very definition and that’s a damn good thing.”
I’ll take that, thank you very much. “I believed in myself too, and I chased after my dreams with the tenacity of a lion going after a gazelle. Sort of like how you are on the field.”
He lets loose an embellished roar. “You know that’s what they called me several years ago? King of the Jungle? It was my nickname.”
I crack up. “No! Really?”
“Swear on the Lombardi trophy. I had long hair. Kind of more golden blond, less brown than now,” he says, explaining, and this I can’t resist. I turn the call to speaker and search Google as he talks for said photos. “A sports reporter called me a beautiful lion at a charity auction.”
My search results reveal the animalistic hottie from several years ago—Harlan sporting a tailored suit on stage, strutting his stuff. Gorgeous long locks fall on his shoulders. They’re a little lighter too. Mmm, I remember how that hair felt between my fingers. “Found the shots. And look at you. Rawr indeed,” I say, with an appreciative groan.
“You like the King of the Jungle look, Katie?”
I give a pregnant pause, just to goad him. “It’s definitely . . . fluffy. A little Fabio.”
He groans. “Woman, you are the worst complimenter ever.”
“Maybe I like Fabio.”
I can practically hear him rolling his eyes. “Ha. Said no woman ever.”
“Said lots of women! But I would think three orgasms would be a better compliment,” I say with a defiant lift of my chin, though he can’t see me.
“Don’t shortchange me. I gave you four. Do not retroactively remove one of the orgasms I delivered.”
I slip back in time to the night over the summer, sensual memories flashing hot before my eyes, sending tingles shivering down my body. “Truth be told you’ve given me more than that. Let’s not forget the bathroom at the wedding seven years ago. So it’s five. Five that keep me company late at night,” I say, and maybe it comes out as a purr. Maybe because I feel all kinds of frisky for him. He’s been the star of my late-night fantasies for the last few months.
“You’ve been thinking of me?”
“A lot.”
He lets out a sexy murmur. “Excellent. I’ve been thinking of you too. Also a lot.”
I’m giddy with delight. Just giddy. My libido wants to throw off all my clothes and ask him to talk dirty to me right now. But there’s a voice in the front of my head telling me to slow down, to get to know him anew. To take my time since I refuse to be a fool again.
“And I’ll probably jump you when I see you, so maybe we can chat more now,” I suggest. See? I can be adult sometimes.
“Let’s do it. But I want to see you, Katie. Let’s switch to FaceTime.”
We do, and he calls back on video. When his handsome profile appears on my screen, my stomach flips. Those cheekbones, those pillowy lips, those soulful eyes.
He just makes me . . . melt.
He’s all the unfair advantages in the world.
The man settles into his living room couch, surrounded by pillows. “So, your dad lives in town?”
I nod, relaxing into my pillows too, feeling cozy and comfy as we chat. “He remarried when I went to college and his new wife is great. They run a handful of swim and tennis clubs together. He was a competitive swimmer in college and decided to open some clubs, teaching kids, adults, and seniors. I’ve been swimming again there lately. It’s been good for me.”
His eyebrows lift. “Yeah? In what way?”
This feels a little like opening up. But that’s part of dating, right? Taking your time, letting someone in. Baby steps. “It cleared my head. Helped me let go. Swimming always did when I was younger, and it does again now. Along with yoga.”
“Was that what got you through their split?”
Damn, this man can read me like a book. “Definitely. I needed an outlet then too, because things were always complicated with my mom growing up.”
“How so?”
That’s a good question. And unfortunately, one that’s far too easy to answer. “She was very focused on looks. She works in advertising for beauty magazines and there’s nothing wrong with that, but I think it became her sole focus. Almost like she wanted to preserve her youth at all costs. She kept finding younger and younger men. Like her newest fling,” I say, my voice tight, as I imagine it might always be when I mention him. “He’s the youngest of all. Twenty-two years younger than she is.”
“Whoa,” he says, his eyes popping.
There’s not much more to say than that, though. “So, yeah, I needed yoga. I needed swimming. I needed something not to lose my mind,” I say, pushing out a needed laugh. That’s something I’ve learned in the last few months—the power of laughter to get you through the hard stuff. I learned, too, how important it is to keep focusing on others, so I shift to him. “But what about you? Are you close with your mom or dad?”
“My mom is great. She’s my hero. She’s a baker, and that’s where I learned to cook and bake.”
“Awww, so sweet. Is she still in Georgia?”
“She is indeed. Atlanta. She runs her pie shop still with my oldest sister, Eva. It’s called I’m Just Here for the Pie. Even though she doesn’t need to run it to live.”
“Because . . .?”
He smiles softly, his eyes glinting with a touch of pride. “I did the whole bought Mom a new home thing when I got my first contract. I wanted to take care of her. Make sure she didn’t ever want for a single thing. Our parents are sort of the reverse, yours and mine, Katie. My mom’s the one I’m close with. My dad cheated on her when I was thirteen. And he took off. He left, plain and simple. Didn’t pay child support or anything. The man just abandoned his family.”
I shudder from the awfulness of that. From the anger and hurt I can hear in Harlan’s voice. It’s one of the few times he’s ever sounded less than fine. Less than fun, flirty, or easygoing.
“That must have been so hard. I’m sorry you went through that. Was he around at all after he left?”
Harlan shakes his head. His jaw is set hard. It ticks as he takes a deep breath. “Nope. Not one bit. The fucker moved to Arizona with his new woman and didn’t do shit for his three daughters, his son, or the mother of his children.”
“Wow. I had no idea.” I wince inside at my tactlessness. “I feel like a jerk for not knowing that. For kind of dumping all my stuff on you every time.”
He sits up, instantly softening. “Don’t feel bad. How would you have known? I didn’t expect you to read my mind, and these are details that I don’t share in the press. But yes, that’s the story.”
“Sounds like it’s real important to you to be the opposite.”
He nods, his expression solemn. “The most important thing to me.”
“Sounds like you are too,” I say with a smile.
He smiles back. “I try.”
“Did you ever miss him when you were younger?”
“For a little while at first, but I didn’t like the way he treated my mom. He talked shit behind her back when they were together. I never thought he deserved her.”