6 - Woman Logic

“Hello?”

Her greeting caused Jon to smirk with satisfaction.  She sounded amused.  Amused was good.

“You never called,” he chided quietly.  “Does that mean you didn’t find my friend Sheridan hiding in those little bottles of booze?”

“I wasn’t exactly looking for her.”

Not the answer he was hoping to hear.

“Pity.  I owe her something, and was hoping to settle up my debt.”

Her chuckle was sexy as hell.   “You don’t owe her – me – anything.  Any imaginary debt you have was paid in full at least twice.”

“What?  That third time wasn’t necessary?  Damn.”

“I’ve found that some of the best things in life are the unnecessary ones.”

“Why, Ms. King…  I think there may have been a compliment hidden in there.”

That same chuckle reached out and tugged unmercifully at the corners of his mouth.  Jon kicked his feet up on the desk and leaned back in the big leather chair, inexplicably entertained by her.  For the first time he actually thought about this woman with a body part residing above his belt buckle.

“I didn’t figure you for the kind of guy who needs a post mortem assessment, Mr. Bon Jovi.  Is that why you’ve been so persistent these last couple of days?  You need my customer satisfaction rating before they’ll put the notch in your bedpost?”

He threw his head back with a delighted bark of laughter.  The sex had been such a dominant part of their time together that it had also dominated his memories.  Why hadn’t he remembered that her witty banter felt like a breath of fresh air? 

“No, I took care of it weeks ago,” he arrogantly assured her.  “I’ll show it to you, if you want.  It’s pretty easy to pick out, since it’s the deepest one this decade.”

“Ah.  Well, the good news is that you have eight more years to remedy that.”

Well-worn boots swung to the floor, and he bent forward, propping his elbows on his thighs.  Bumping his scuffed to against the big mahogany desk, he told her in all seriousness, “The only thing I want to remedy is the lack of an encore.”

“Jon…”  The breathy sigh of disappointment was not lost on him.  “This is why I didn’t call.”

“Because you didn’t want to be reminded of mind-blowing sex?”

“No,” she said softly.  “Because I don’t want to forget it.”

He reared up, pushing to his feet and pacing restlessly toward the terrace doors.  New York was almost dark with the early winter sunset.  The only relief from the shadows was the million plus lights flicking on throughout the neighborhoods. 

“That doesn’t make a damn bit of sense.  We were good together.  Intensely good.  And I’m greedy enough to want that intensity again.”

“And I’m greedy enough to want to keep the untarnished memory of a perfect night.  Do you realize how rare it is to find something ‘perfect’ in life, Jon?  If I’m lucky enough to have one moment in time that fits that description, who are you to take it away from me?”

“I’m the one who gave it to you,” he growled with frustration, not understanding this feminine logic of hers.  Reigning in the frustration and accompanying fit of pique, he offered up his own logic.  “Why do you want to cling to a cold, empty memory when we have the chance to make another one?  Maybe even a better one?”

She didn’t have an immediate rebuttal to that.  Taking it as a positive sign, Jon paced along the glass wall that separated his office from the terrace and took advantage of her hesitation to bring his point home. 

“You want to talk rare?  Well, what are the odds that I see a hot woman across the beach, and then find out she’s my neighbor?  That the weather turns so ugly that we lose electric and are confined to quarters to create our own entertainment?  Maybe those aren’t such astronomical odds, but you know what is?  The fact that, all these months and miles later, we get invited to the same party because a mutual friend wants to introduce us.  I may joke about the whole Karma thing, but Christ, Sheridan…  Do you need an engraved invitation to think something’s going on here?”

Richie’s crazy shit was clearly rubbing off on him, because he actually believed what he was saying – about eighty percent, anyway.  Jon hadn’t given it any conscious thought, but the whole thing was awfully damn coincidental.

A delicate feminine sigh tickled his ear.  “I’ll admit it’s a bit coincidental, but I’m having a hard time accepting that this is all about your devout belief in pre-ordained sex.”

Pre-ordained sex.  He was going to have to remember to tell Richie that one.  It sounded like one of his corny pickup lines.

“No.  I want you.”  His voice was flat and matter-of-fact as he moved away from the windows and rested his butt on the edge of the desk.  “It’s just that simple.  And I think you want me.  I’d bet the royalties from my next song on it, in fact.”

“You’re right.  I want you,” she admitted easily, to his surprise.  The last few minutes had led him to believe everything with this woman was going to be a debate.  “What’s not to want?  You’re hot as hell.  So hot that you practically made my teeth sweat for an entire night.  We had phenomenal sex.  But do you know why that is?”

That felt an awful lot like a loaded question, particularly since he thought they’d already covered this topic.  He knew exactly why they’d had phenomenal sex.  “Testosterone, estrogen, pheromones and all that shit.  We have amazing chemistry.”

“No.  That's not it.  Not all of it anyway.” 

There was another of those disappointed sighs.  His first reaction was to take offense, but it might have been disappointment in the situation instead of him, specifically.  There was enough doubt for him to hold his tongue and his attitude, and listen patiently. 

“We had phenomenal sex because you didn’t know me and I didn’t know you.  That anonymity enabled us to shed all of our inhibitions without fear of repercussion.  I didn’t have to look at you the next morning and worry that you wouldn’t respect me just because I’d gotten my freak on, because it was all about getting our freak on.”  She paused, as though gathering her thoughts.  “Unfortunately, that luxury got left behind in Jamaica.  Now you’re pushing on the boundaries of my real life, and I’m not comfortable with it.  Fantasy and reality don’t mix.  Please don’t try and make them.”

He didn’t know what to say.  Jon could admit there was a glimmer of truth in her statement about losing inhibitions.  The steamy darkness had been a world removed from responsibility and expectation.  But, dammit, it was a world that could be recreated.  Sex could be just sex.

”We don’t have to bring reality into this.”

The chuckle that had been so sexy earlier, was now wistful.  “Yeah.  We do.  That Sheridan was an anomaly.  She doesn’t really exist.”

“I’d be willing to testify that she does.”

“Jon.  I’m sorry, but no.  It’s not going to happen.”

Fucking psychobabble bullshit was keeping him from a blissful post-orgasmic coma.  There had to be some way to get around her mental roadblock with this thing.  If he could just get close enough to touch her – tease her – she wouldn’t be able to deny that vacation Sheridan was alive, well and itching for an extended holiday.

“At least let me take you to dinner.  I promised you Steak Oscar, and I always honor my promises.  We’ll go to Delmonico’s and have a nice meal.  A nice bottle of wine.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jon, but thank you for the offer.  And, while I’m at it, thank you for the honor bar.  Once I realized what it was, I laughed.”

Unbelievable.  Un-fucking-believable.  She was turning him down even for dinner. 

Well, that was fine.  He didn’t need this shit.  No piece of ass was worth this kind of hassle.  It would have to be gold plated and sitting on his mantle to even come close.

“Glad I was able to amuse you.”  The words and the tone were both churlish.  He heard it and knew he was being a childish bastard, but it didn’t stop him or make him apologize.  In fact, it made him go that one step further.

You’ve never half-assed anything in your life.  Don’t start now, Bongiovi.

“Just so we’re clear, I’m not going to keep chasing your skirt tails while you play hard to get.” 

“I’m not playing, and there’s no need for you to be get ugly about this.”

Whatever you need to tell yourself, baby.

“I’m not being ugly.  Karma only knocks –or calls – so many times during a person’s life.   All I’m saying is that, if I were you, I’d be damn sure before I slammed the door in her face.”

Silence was the only reply.  Had she hung up?  Jon checked his phone, finding the call still connected.  He put it back to his ear and waited several seconds before she finally spoke.

“I’m sure.  Sometimes you have to make an unhappy choice to find true happiness.”  She cleared her throat and went from being introspective to staidly polite.  “I never did thank you for the make-shift dinner, wine and company during that storm.  As I mentioned, it was a perfect night, and I’ll always cherish the memory.  Thank you and goodbye, Jon.”

And that was that.

She hung up before he could even get his mouth around a rebuttal, and it took a sizable amount of restraint to keep from flinging his phone through the damn window.  He did indulge in a half-hearted toss at the leather sofa before he pushed an annoyed hand through his hair.

It was her loss, not his.  He could have a room full of them naked with one smile, and had on more than one occasion.  They were women that would do the most freakish things imaginable just so that he might remember them.  With that kind of power at his fingertips, he sure as hell didn’t need to waste any time competing with a fucking memory of himself.