THE DINNER DATE
As Ethan played quietly beside her, Aila fussed over her hair, makeup, and clothes. Damn Frank Donovan for making her act like a fawning schoolgirl. The best restaurant in town didn't require a dress code, so damn it, she wasn't going to push herself too far. If he didn't like it, he could lump it. She gave herself one last cursory glance before she picked up her boy and carried him into the living room where Lila awaited.
"I shouldn't be out long," Aila began. "No later than ten, if that. If Ethan gives you trouble tonight going to bed, his favorite storybook is on his bedside table." Aila knew she was fretting too much, but it was a rare occasion for her to go out at night. She was usually home at Ethan's bedtime. God. Let go already. "Anyway, you know where I'll be, so give me a yell if you need me for anything."
She could see the smile behind Lila's eyes, so Aila left before her babysitter laughed out loud. Yes, she was a doting mother. She couldn't help it. Ethan was her first and likely her last. Coupled with that, of course, was the accusation hurled against her. What the hell was going to happen? She didn't doubt that Frank would haul her away in cuffs. Damning evidence? What damning evidence? Jesus. Her ass was already over the fire. How would she tell him about Ethan now? If he doubted her innocence, he would doubt her son's paternity easily enough. The boy didn't look enough like Frank for an immediately physical connection. If he were around Ethan enough, he would see that he acted just like Frank. How in the hell had she gotten herself into such a mess? She shook it off and went to her car. She hoped the old rattletrap would start and equally hoped it would get her to the hotel to meet Frank. From there, the two could walk to the restaurant.
How can she still do that to me, Frank thought as he watched Aila leaving a small, dark sedan. She was wearing plain blue jeans and a royal blue button-down shirt. Her inky black hair was spilled over her shoulders and down her back. Goddamn, she was beautiful. Blue jeans. Simple blue jeans had the ability to set him off. He moved away from the window so she wouldn't see him staring at her. That's all he needed was for her to find out that he still had feelings for her. He shook his head and stepped away until the back of his legs hit the bed. If his balance weren't on key, he would have fallen flat onto his bed. Not a good way to begin a date with a potential suspect. When he heard a knock on the door, he moved to open it. As soon as he had that chore accomplished, Aila had her opportunity to size him up. He wore a dark button-down shirt tucked into dark slacks. There was something missing about his outfit and it took a moment for her to realize what it was. He wasn't strapped. She had seen him without his arsenal before, of course, but it had been ages. It seemed a part of his personality. He was drop dead gorgeous, of course, and she had to fight to keep her jaw from falling to the floor. What was she supposed to say to him now? He was ready to arrest her for God's sake.
"Where we're going," she began, "you don't need reservations or fancy clothes. It's two blocks east of here. Are you ready to go?"
He gazed down at her shimmering ice blue eyes and could nearly drown in them. "Yes," he said simply, stupidly.
On their short walk to the restaurant, Aila made idle conversation, mumbling about such uninteresting things as the town history, what buildings were what, and the fact that this was the smallest town she had ever lived in. All the while, Frank said nothing. He listened to her droning voice and had managed to shut it out. He wasn't interested in this. He was interested in finding out about her life, what she had done since leaving him, why she had left him. He also wanted her to prove to him that she didn't launder any money to a drug kingpin. He refused to believe she would take such scum into her bed. Aila wasn't the type to be attracted to men like Thurman Herren. Enough time had passed for her to change, of course, but not that much. Just before they were inside the restaurant, Aila cut off the talking, and they entered the small building quietly. Several people recognized her and shouted hearty 'hellos' her way. Frank said nothing as he continued to follow her.
The inside of the restaurant looked like a cleaned out barn with several tables and booths scattered about. The floor was hardwood and nearly covered with peanut shells. In fact, when the server took Aila and Frank to their table, she grabbed a small bucket of peanuts on her way. After they were seated and their drink orders taken, Aila dug into the peanut bucket and shelled one. She popped the meat into her mouth and then raked the shell off onto the floor. There was very little going on and it made Frank uncomfortable. Without thinking, and desperately needing something to do with his hands, he grabbed a peanut.
"Can I say something to you," Frank asked after he shelled the nut. He felt almost guilty shoving the shell onto the floor.
"You just did, didn't you," she asked with a lifted eyebrow. She watched as he made a face before he raked off the shell. "Some things never change," she said with a slight smile.
"Seriously, Aila. You shouldn't be making jokes right now. What I'm saying is, I don't want you approaching your treasurer. I think we should leave things as they are and make the treasurer believe that she's in the clear. That way, we can move more freely."
She nodded and grabbed up another peanut. "I understand, but this is serious shit. I don't know how easily I can deal with Sybil. Not only is she the town's treasurer, she's my best friend." She laughed bitterly. "Well, actually, she was my best friend. I suppose she's nothing to me now." She popped the peanuts into her mouth and raked off the shells. "Goddamn it, Frank. We were together for a year and I hate that you doubt my innocence. Even though you're talking like that, you're still not sure, are you? You're waiting for one of your people to give you the all clear, and then you would be on me faster than I could blink."
"Do you think I enjoy doubting your innocence after all that we went through? I don't, Aila. I don't at all. I simply want you to avoid the treasurer. The case must work as it is or we'll lose the person totally."
"I understand," she said as she worked through her third and fourth peanuts. "So, no talking about this to the person responsible. Goody. I can handle that. Good thing you ordered that," she began sarcastically. "I might have had to speak to her up close and personal. I have a [child to raise] lot riding on my job. It's not the power, but…something else."
Frank reached for a peanut and played with it for a few moments. He studied her cautiously. It was obvious she was hiding something from him, but he had no idea what. It wasn't the behavior of one guilty of what she had been accused. It was that of one hiding secrets. He gazed at her another long moment [Her thinking: I wish he would stop that] before cracking the shell on the peanut. Without the blink of an eye, he popped the meat into his mouth and didn't seem to have so many qualms about brushing the destroyed shell off onto the floor. "I know you do and that's why we're here. It's why I wanted to see you tonight." Liar. There were dozens of reasons why he wanted to see her tonight and this was only one. Tentatively [he hated being tentative about anything], he focused his eyes on her face again. This time, her ice blue eyes were questioning him, as if she sensed his tentativeness. She probably does. "For what it's worth, Aila, I think you're innocent. It has nothing to do with the fact that we were once close […you call almost being engaged close…]."
Aila sensed that he had almost said something else, the question she had been expecting since he first called her. Why did you leave me three years ago? Instead, he confessed he didn't believe she was guilty. She actually didn't know how she felt about that. Was she happy to hear he no longer doubted her or was she disappointed to note that he didn't ask the question she longed to hear so she would be forced to tell him about Ethan? Hands down, she would have to tell him. However, her plans for the gentle way of dealing with it had all been shot to hell. "I'm glad you feel that way. I'll do whatever it takes to clear my name on the books. Your saying you believe me isn't good enough, because […because we have a son, Frank, and I care more about clearing my name for him than for this shitty job or town…] I don't want this hanging over my head like a black cloud. As angry as I am right now, I care enough about this town to find the real culprits." What the hell am I talking about? Do I even know?
What the hell is she saying, Frank thought. Her words and thoughts were completely disorganized as if she were a schizophrenic patient suffering a relapse. A bitter smile touched his lips. "I never figured you would allow yourself to become so worried about what others thought of you. When I first spoke to you, I didn't think much about you had changed. But I see that I'm wrong. You're not the Aila Blane I left three years ago. I thought you hated small towns and small town lives? Now you're talking like you were raised this way and you want to stay the same. Is that true? Is that what I'm hearing?"
"Oh ho," she said, matching his bitter smile. "Look at this." How the hell could he sit here and criticize her? He hadn't been alone and pregnant. He hadn't had to live day in and day out with a child who brought back memories of him every second. He hadn't had to experience any of this. And now, he sat before her so smug. "Talk about people not changing. Look in the mirror at Frank Donovan. Look, Frank, bottom line is, it's very important for me to get my name clear on paper. I have my reasons and soon enough, I'll share, if you want to hear. I didn't want to spend tonight arguing. God, I don't have the energy for it. Can we order before I finish every peanut in this bucket?"
He nodded. Avoid me all you want, but I'll get the answers I deserve. "Of course."
Throughout the rest of dinner, the conservation remained light and guarded with a pick and a poke added here and there for good measure. At some point in the evening, Aila began to loosen up and had forgotten to check her watch every two minutes. When she finally did glance down at it, it was well past 10:00 p.m. She swore under her breath. She had told Lila she wouldn't be out any later than ten. Now look at her. They were finished eating, basically, and Aila had gone back to picking at the peanut bucket while Frank had worked through his third […or was it fourth…] draft beer. Amused, she noted that he wouldn't touch that stuff unless forced. She made moves to leave the restaurant and Frank followed her lead, but seemed more than confused at her sudden, erratic behavior. They began the short walk back to the hotel and Aila was surprised that Frank wasn't falling over drunk, but he maintained his alcohol tolerance fairly well.
When they reached his door, Aila turned away to get to her car, but she soon felt the steel clamp of his hand around her forearm. It didn't hurt, but he was holding on steadily. "Come in for a minute," he said. "I think we should talk."
For Pete's sake, she had to relieve the babysitter. Lila probably thought she had run off and joined the circus or something. "Oh no you don't," she commented lightly. "You're not getting me in there, not with all that beer you drank."
He afforded her a half smile before he shook his head. "Aila, they were near beers."
"Oh, near beers. I see. Bullshit. Good night, Frank. We can finish this tomorrow morning."
His grip did not let up. "No. It has to be tonight or I'm going to lose my mind. Please, come in. I promise to behave."
"Okay," she said. "Five minutes and then I really have to leave."
Aila entered the hotel room and glanced around at its interior. There wasn't much choice of a place to sit. It was either the bed or at the table. She chose the table as Frank disappeared into the bathroom. Dear God. He was half on his way to being flat out drunk, but he insisted he was sober. She knew what was going to happen, but she wouldn't let it progress any further than necessary. She spied the phone and quickly descended upon it. When Frank reentered the room, he noticed that Aila had just hung up the phone.
"I was checking on my father," she said as she made her way back to the table.
Frank nodded and pulled out a chair. "Did something happen to him," he asked as he sat down near her.
"Yeah," she said with a sigh. At least this wouldn't be a lie. "Lots. The reason I know Thurman Herren is because he was trying to take my father's business so he could launder money and sell drugs. Dad didn't go for it. He had a small stroke and then later, a large one. He probably won't recover."
When he saw the vacant look in her eyes, he longed to hold her. "I'm sorry, Aila." He reached out to take her hand and she allowed him without much fuss or muss. "Is that the reason you left?"
She nodded. "Yes," she whispered. "One of them."
"The other?"
She had waited three long years for this moment. Not the time. Not the time. "I'm not ready to tell you about that one yet." She leaned back in her chair so that his hand would fall away from hers. "What about you, Frank? What's your life like now? What are you doing?"
He didn't allow her evasive move to disrupt his thoughts at all. It was actually what he had been expecting her to do. "I branched out in the FBI, special operations. As far as my life, it's good. My daughter is still in it, brightening it every day. She keeps me sane and grounded. She shows me what life is truly about."
"No wife? No girlfriend?"
He smiled a little. "Does the thought make you jealous?"
She blushed. Oh Jesus. He did it to her. He actually did it to her. "No," she said, meaning 'yes.' "It doesn't. Well…do you?"
He shook his head. "No. What about you?"
She stuck her tongue out at him for a very brief moment. "No wives or girlfriends, but I suppose you can say I have something of a male influence in my life. Not a husband or serious boyfriend, though."
"He's a lucky man," Frank said, the light in his eyes dying just a little.
"Now look who's jealous," she said with a small smile.
"You caught me," he admitted. "A long romance is hard to forget." He cleared his throat and fidgeted in his chair. "Your other reason for leaving, Aila. Tell me."
She shook her head. "I can't, Frank. It would take too long and I truly need to get home."
As she stood, he took hold of her arm. Before she knew what was happening, his body was pressed against hers. She felt every line and muscle of his body, noting that nothing about that had changed one iota. "No you don't. If you didn't call me for help, then why did you call? What was it you wanted to tell me?"
"Really, Frank, I must go," she said, her bottom lip quivering. She was scared shitless. He wanted her. She could see that easily. "I'll tell you, but in due time. Right now, I'm running very, very late."
As much as their first kiss, he garnered his take-charge attitude to allow his lips to take hers almost brutally. Later, he would wonder if it was the beer or just the sheer idea of missing her so much that made him so forceful with her. However, right now, he was thinking of nothing but her kiss. She fought for only a moment before she gave in to his demanding lips. The moment his tongue touched her, she opened her mouth to accept it into hers. God. He was always such a good goddamn kisser. Neither too wet nor too dry. Just right, Goldilocks. An audible grunt left her when her back hit the wall. Oh fuck it. She couldn't win this battle. Using the wall as leverage, she moved enough where she could wrap her legs around his waist. By that time, his mouth had begun to assault the slice of flesh her button-down shirt revealed. That was when the battle became real to her again. Although she wanted him more than she could fathom, she didn't want to complicate the issue further by sleeping with him.
"Frank, we can't…we can't do this," she whispered.
"Yes we can," he answered against her skin. "We can do whatever we want. No one has to know."
"We would know. Please, Frank, let me leave. Please."
Wanting her as much as he did, he couldn't go against her pleading. He knew she wanted him. He could feel it radiating from her pores. Fighting himself immensely, he gently eased her down to her feet and stepped back several steps in kind. Her shirt was disheveled and half the buttons were undone. He couldn't actually remember doing that to her. His neck burned with each nipping bite she had bestowed on him during some point he also couldn't recall. He watched as she silently readjusted her clothing. God. She was left alone with him for a mere few seconds, what if it happened again? Terra had been right all along. He still loved her, still wanted every inch of her. He fucking hated it when his sister was right.
"Aila, I'm sorry," he said. He wasn't sorry. It was a lie, a big fat lie. "I didn't want to push."
"You didn't push. We both kind of shoved," she told him. "You were right earlier when you said it's hard to leave a long relationship behind, but we did. I can't say I don't have regrets, but I think I would have if we had gone to bed together tonight."
No. I refuse to believe that. The only regret I have right now is not making a move three years ago. I must be the dumbest man on earth. I will never forgive myself. "It's okay," he finally managed.
Aila moved quickly toward the door. "Good night, Frank. I promise to tell you everything when the time is right. In the meantime, you can catch me at the Sheriff's office until they fire me."
Frank stood back and watched Aila walk out on him. God what he wouldn't give for another moment to taste her kiss. Perhaps then, he could convince her that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.
Aila stumbled out to her car and managed to insert the key into the door. She thought she was going to be sick and it was sickness so very close to that which attacked her in the first few months of her pregnancy. It was insane, and the longer she stood outside, the sicker she felt. She ducked into her car and clipped the seatbelt across her body. She couldn't believe the predicament she had gotten herself into.
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To be continued…