Under His Spell. Kristin Hardy
put you with J.J.
Lainie glanced across the bar to where he stood with his arms around two women who looked about eighteen. He whispered something to one of them, and she burst out giggling and pressed a kiss on him.
Lainie scowled. “Great. J.J. and me. Just what I’ve always wanted.”
J.J. leaned against the lodge wall, beer in hand, listening as Tom Phillips, a guy he and Gabe had known in junior high school, hit the punch line in a joke. So it wasn’t an après ski party in Gstaad. It was still good to be entertained, especially now, when he was sitting around at loose ends. It made him feel itchy in his own skin. He was accustomed to having a focus. He was accustomed to having a goal. He should be finishing up with speed camp in Chile right now, ready to head to Innsbruck in a couple of weeks to prep for the first World Cup race of the year at Sölden. Instead he was here, trying with admittedly little grace to be patient with physical therapy and the healing process of his shoulder while he waited for clearance to start training in earnest. He wasn’t used to being forced to sit back and let other people get a head start on him.
He wasn’t used to feeling like he was falling behind.
Of course he wasn’t, he reminded himself. Maybe he’d be starting the season at a slight disadvantage, but he’d catch up quickly. Dry-land training would help, and once he got on the slopes, it would all come back.
And he wasn’t going to think about what the future held, the all-too-near prospect of the day he’d miss speed camp not because he was rehabbing, but because he was retired.
J.J. made an impatient noise. Only a putz worried about things he couldn’t change, and the future wasn’t now. Right now he was just biding his time until he got going again. So if he was stuck waiting, he’d make the most of it. There were beautiful women in New England. He could hang out with friends, see his family.
And maybe harass Lainie some more.
Lainie.
Something about her today seemed uncommonly delectable.
He looked across to see her standing and talking to a guy whose eyebrows seemed to blend in with his hairline. As he watched, she threw her head back and laughed, not a giggle but the full-fledged belly laugh of a woman who wasn’t afraid to have a good time.
J.J. took a drink of his beer, letting the conversation flow over him. He wasn’t sure if he enjoyed needling her so much because it was so easy to get a rise out of her or because she generally managed to give as good as she got. Or maybe he just liked watching those brown eyes dance with devilry when she hit him with a really good zinger. If Lainie Trask were an animal, she’d be one of those seals that balanced balls on its nose, with her sleek dark hair and her quicksilver sense of fun. There was something irresistible about her, something happy and feckless and free.
Even when she was glowering at him.
Their sparring was so long-standing, he hardly remembered when it had started. One minute she’d been the skinny little drink of water who’d hung around him and Gabe when the two of them were in junior high. The next, he’d come back from his first modest experience in the Winter Olympics to find her all grown up into a leggy high-schooler with the eyes of a woman—a woman who seemed completely immune to his charm.
At first the acerbic retorts had annoyed and then they had begun to amuse. Sure she was hot but she was also the next best thing to Gabe’s kid sister. Dating her was out of the question—even if she had had more than two civil words to say to him.
It was better this way, he thought, studying the long legs and smooth, golden skin left exposed by her stretchy white top and little blue skirt. If they’d dated, it wouldn’t have lasted, and it all fell too close to home. When things went south, he’d not only lose a girlfriend, he’d maybe lose two people who were the next best thing to family. This way it just kept being fun.
Except when he had to watch her being monopolized by some guy. Not that it was jealousy or anything.
“…let’s ask J.J.,” a loud voice said beside him.
J.J. tuned back into the conversation. “Ask me what?”
“Whether Eastern European women are more beautiful than Swedish women.” The speaker was another old school friend named Dennis, currently glowering at Tom.
“Everybody knows that Swedish women are the babes of Europe,” Tom argued. “Except Dennis, here.”
“Didn’t you look at your last swimsuit issue? It’s the ones coming from Russia and Eastern Europe who are the beauties. Anyway, J.J., what do you think? You’re probably hooked up with one of each right now, right?”
J.J. grinned. “Ah, gentlemen, I’m flattered by your faith in me but I’ve given up my evil, worthless ways. No more gorgeous blondes with mile-long legs and big, uh,” he glanced at a nearby mother with kids, “personalities. I’m dating only schoolteachers and librarians, now.”
The remark earned him snorts and jeers.
“Give us a break, Cooper. Who’s the babe of the month? C’mon, fill us in,” Tom demanded.
J.J. grinned and finished his beer. “Not on your life. I’m going after another drink,” he announced, and ambled across the room toward the bar—and Lainie.
She never glanced in his direction as he walked over. “The bar’s to your left,” she said pleasantly as he came to a stop beside her.
The guy with her looked at J.J., goggle-eyed. “Hey, J.J. Cooper, wow, I saw you in the Olympics. Remember me, Bart Ziffer? You dated my sister.”
“Now there’s a surprise,” Lainie said under her breath.
“I’ll have to tell her I saw you. She lives in Worcester, now. Got three kids. Hey, I bet they’d like an autograph. Can I get one?”
Lainie gave J.J. a derisive look. “Sure, Speed, give him an autograph. It might be worth a buck or two on eBay if you ever do anything impressive.”
J.J. picked up a cocktail napkin. “Got a pen?”
Bart gave a blank look and patted his pockets. “I don’t think so. Lainie?”
She held up her empty hands. There was something to be said for a woman who didn’t bother with a purse, J.J. thought. It showed a certain independence of spirit. He grinned at Ziffer. “Catch up with me when you’ve got a pen and I’m all over it,” he said, “but right now I need to talk to Lainie for a minute.” He caught her arm, ignoring her suitor’s crestfallen look, and began leading her away.
“That happened to be someone I’ve known since junior high.” She pulled loose from him.
“You’ve known me since way before junior high.”
“I know, and I never have figured out what I did to deserve it. So what, exactly, did you need to talk with me about?”
“Something important,” he told her, trying to figure out just why he’d been compelled to get her to himself.
She crossed her arms. “Oh, really?”
“They did a nice job with the lodge, huh?”
She raised an eyebrow. “I’m waiting.”
“So, uh, what are you doing with yourself these days? Still working at the witch museum?”
“Yeah. So?” She tapped her fingers, but he noticed she was in no hurry to go back.
“Just wondering. Still living in Salem?”
“It’s as good as anywhere else.”
“What ever happened to New York and Europe and all that? Or do you just like small towns?”
Her chin came up at that. “Salem’s not a small town,” she retorted, ignoring his snort. “And I’ll move on when I’m ready.”