My Boyfriend's Back by Maureen McCarrie (novels for beginners txt) 📗

"Is thatJack Lynch? I heard he was in town. Ohmygod, it is!"

The two womensitting nearby craned their heads and gaped. John made hismove.

***

Jack Lynchconsidered calling security, but shrugged the impulse away. Lydonwas heading toward him, but he wasn't really worried about his highschool nemesis. Bullies generally lost all their air pretty quicklyin the real world, and Jack had a black belt, a fleet of lawyers,and a limo driver with a tazer. He was actually more concerned withthe scrawny guy in the hoodie who had been lingering around for twodays, seeming to appear every time Jack did. He looked harmless,but you never knew. The way he kept fiddling with the drawstringson his sweatshirt was creepy.

No hoodies insight— good. He had almost turned down the speaking engagement, buthis mom mentioned in passing that Rori McLeary was going to bethere, and had asked for him.

"Hey! JackLynch! What a coincidence!" John Lydon's voice was big, fat, andoverwhelming— like his head. He was still built like a tank, stillgood-looking, and still obviously convinced he was irresistiblycharming.

He wasn't.

"Hello, John."Jack nodded and kept walking toward the revolving doors, where hislimo was waiting. He could see Sam, his driver, hovering by therear door.

John blockedhis path, smiling a little too generously. There was a pinched lookat the corners of his eyes.

"It's great tosee you, Jack. Kind of great luck, too— at least I hope so!" Thevoice was a little too cheerful, a little too friendly, a littletoo loud. Forced

"Luck?" Jackfrowned.

"Well, asbad luck would have it, my rental car broke down, and theytowed it, but they didn't have a replacement available right away.I was wondering—"

"You need me toget you a cab?" It was just a little cruel, but Jack couldn'tresist. He knew John Lydon had just been forced out of his job forgetting too cute with a college intern. He knew the former footballstar was down to his last dime. He knew exactly why Johnwanted to bum a ride from him.

"Well, uh—"John squirmed, and Jack was a little ashamed of his pleasure at thesight. "Actually, Jack I was wondering if I could get a ride withyou. I had something I'd really like to talk to you about,Jack."

He's overusingmy name, Jack thought. A bad sales tactic from the Reagan-era,generations of business people learned to schmooze and disarm bycreating a false sense of familiarity and connection. It alwaysmade Jack feel like he was being sold an overpriced sports car. Hewas tempted to brush past the man.

But it wouldactually be more rewarding to hear the pitch, look him in the eye,and turn him down. Get it over with, he thought, and then move onto Rori. She was all that mattered. This weekend was all about hissecond chance with Rori.

Sam held thedoor open for his boss, a frown creasing his brow as he was shovedslightly by the big, bulky guy. Jack threw him an "ignore it"glance and was joined in the limo by John, who never paused in hisrambling dialogue.

Chapter 3

Hammond SuitesHotel, Hammond, MA— Twenty Minutes Later

Rori McLearylooked at her reflection and blew out a hard, noisy breath. Notbad, she thought. She was aware that her thirties were slippingaway, but she could still rock a party dress. She said a silentprayer of gratitude to Beyoncé, J-Lo, and the Kardashian girls. Ithad taken twenty years for her figure to become fashionable. Curvesthat had been ridiculed— by her fellow cheerleaders, the meangirls, the insecure guys in study hall— were now her pride andjoy.

She ran herhands over the slinky folds of deep red material draping her hips.Twenty years ago she had worn pink to her prom, convinced shecouldn't pull off her school colors: red and silver. She glanced ather old yearbook, dug out of her mom's attic. Scarlet red had fadedto a deeper cordovan color, the profile of a hart— their schoolmascot— was raised in silver, its antlers rubbed bare.

The ditzy girlsof Hammond High translated the hart to "heart" and made Valentine'sDay the date and theme for their prom over several years. Recentclasses had broken the tradition, but old habits died hard. Theclass of 1991 was holding their reunion on Valentine's Day weekend.Lily Spense still thought H-A-R-T was an old fashioned way to spellheart. She never did understand why their mascot was adeer.

Time healed allwounds, but there was nothing you could do to fix stupid.

Twenty years.Tucking a tendril of dark hair into a diamond clip, Rori thoughtfor the thousandth time that day, it seemed completely impossibleshe'd graduated from Hammond High twenty years ago. Maybe if she'dattended her fifth, tenth, or fifteenth reunions she'd feeldifferently. But when Rori had left Hammond after graduation she'dleft behind nothing she regretted... nothing except Jack Lynch.

She watched thebright hazel of her eyes grow brighter still with tears. Sniffing,she dabbed them away quickly to avoid smearing her makeup. Notears. No regrets. Jack was the only thing she had ever regrettedin her life, and tonight she was going to ask for a second chance.Tonight she was going to make it right.

Dabbing perfumeat her wrists, behind her ears, at the nape of her neck, andbetween her breasts, Rori squared her shoulders. Diamonds sparkledat her ears. She'd left her neck bare, letting her cleavage speakfor itself. Framed by slashes of red, her pale skin was all sheneeded below the chin. She wore her grandmother's ruby and diamondring on her right hand. Her left was bare.

All in goodtime, she thought, smiling once more at the voluptuous, hazel-eyed,raven-haired woman in the mirror. She wondered if anyone wouldrecognize her at all.

As long as Jackdid, the rest of them could go to hell.

Sitting at thedesk by her hotel-room window, Rori glanced at the packet AshleyAnson and Lily Spense had sent out to the Class of 1991. On pale,dove-gray paper with silver trim, his name was embossed at the top.A slash of crimson text: GUEST SPEAKER JACK LYNCH, MOST LIKELY TOSUCCEED.

And succeed hehad. When the email had shown up in her in-box last spring, she'dbeen stunned he had agreed to it. Why would Jack Lynch, who hadbeen treated with almost universal cruelty