Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Dodge and Burn.
Much love and thanks to Editor Azucena , Pre-readers BtwntheStacks and Lemonmartinis and Beta-MsKathy
Dodge and Burn / Chapter Three / Keep it Clean
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"So I told my women's group all about you," she says as he takes a minute to retune his guitar.
"Really? What did you tell this group of women?"
"That I have this handsome and talented musician serenading me once a week in my home. I must tell you, they were very jealous."
"Were they now?" he asks, continuing to strum and turn the tuning keys. "It sounds like you were trying to provoke them." He gives her a mock stern look. "Should I be affronted? I feel like an object…the pawn in your women's group game."
"Oh, don't feel that way! Besides, it backfired. Now they all want to come hear you. And they are wonderful, truly, this incredibly dynamic bunch of gals."
"Really?"
"Honestly though, I'm not sure how I feel about the idea. I don't really want to share you. The lawyer, Sharon, would eat you alive. And if you think I'm dramatic, you should meet Veronica, the actress. She makes me look low key."
He can only imagine what that could mean. "Do you really think I couldn't handle a group of women?" he asks, squinting at her.
She gets flustered, realizing she hasn't explained herself well. "Oh, I'm sure you can handle them, Mr. C., I'm just not sure you'd want to."
He shrugs. "You're making it sound like I'd have a harem, not an audience."
She claps her hands, laughing. "That's it exactly! A harem. All Toni talks about is sex so she would undoubtedly want to lead the pack."
"How did you women find each other and form this strange alliance?"
"We were originally in a bootcamp workout class together. Now we just get together to eat, drink heavily, and talk literature, art, men, and sex…and not necessarily in that order."
"And counteract all the good work you've done at your bootcamp workout."
"Well yes, but the irony is that we don't even take the class anymore. The gym went out of business."
"Well, if you don't mind, I think I'll pass. I'm not really in the market for a harem."
"No, I suppose your wife wouldn't appreciate that at all. They're all good-looking women too."
"Not helping…" He shakes his head. "It's distracting enough dealing with one good-looking woman. I don't need a bunch of them."
She grins widely. "You think I'm good-looking?"
"Yes, of course I do. You're beautiful, Isabella."
Her cheeks blush the palest pink and she looks down, rendering her even lovelier.
"I'm sure you have to fight men off all the time." He realizes he's said too much, and he looks back to his guitar to pretend he's still tuning it.
"I don't know about that. But Jimmy, the produce guy from my Gelson's market, has a thing for me, and I do get a lot of attention when I go into Sammy's camera," she teases as she rolls her eyes. "Almost everyone that works there is a single man, which is a big plus for me."
He knows she's playing with him, but he refuses to let her think she isn't desirable. "See, what did I tell you? I'm sure you're noticed many more places than just where you shop. Frankly, I'm amazed you're single."
She shrugs. "I've been single a long time. For most of that, I was raising my son and he was my priority. The few times I dated, he made it difficult. He always thought of himself as the man of the house."
"Well, that would be challenging for any man to circumnavigate."
"Indeed."
"And now? He doesn't live with you anymore so can no longer intimidate your suitors."
She pulls on a lock of hair as she considers his question. "I don't know," she answers finally. "I guess I'm just so used to being alone now-and dating is so unappealing. I really have to be inspired. Jimmy, for instance, is a real cutie but he isn't just going to win me over with his succulent strawberries and ripe melons."
He laughs. "I imagine not. Glad you have such high standards."
"Absolutely."
He loves her smile and how freely she smiles for him.
"So are you ready for more music?"
"Yes, please," she replies enthusiastically, like a hungry child asking for more.
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He plays a few Joni Mitchell songs figuring she'll like that, and she lies down flat on the grass to listen. He notices that her shirt hitches up at an angle and reveals a long triangle of skin. He can't take his eyes off of the velvet glow, even though he feels he should. If he were honest with himself, he'd admit that he's curious to see more.
His gaze moves slowly higher and he finds himself studying the swell of her full breasts under her tank top where her outer shirt has fallen open. Her body is so much different than Lauren's, curvier and stronger. He feels shame creep down his spine-straight into his gut, as if he's cheated on his estranged wife just by admiring another woman. Despite his inner battle his desire lingers. He imagines sliding his hands under her shirt until he's cupping her breasts and pressing his lips against her neck.
It's been so long since he thought of another woman this way. He needs to stop yet there's something about Isabella. Ever since she leapt into his life he's been stirred up. He aches deep with yearning before he finally looks away.
He begins to play again, relieved that she didn't seem to notice his staring. She seems so relaxed from the music that he wonders if she's going to fall asleep, but instead when he finishes up A Case of You, she tips her head up.
"What's your wife's name?"
For a moment he wonders if her heard her correctly.
He thinks about Lauren and she suddenly materializes between them, even if it is just in conversation. He imagines that although she walked away from him, she still wouldn't want him thinking about other women. Lauren always was wildly jealous.
He pauses and looks down. "Lauren. Why?"
"She must be amazing," she says, and then settles her head back down on the grass.
"Well, yeah, she is—but why do you think that? I haven't really talked about her or anything."
"I guess just because you're amazing."
He's taken aback. He can't even be flattered because he can't figure why she'd think that based on what he's revealed to her so far.
She lifts up on her elbows. "I'd like to meet her sometime. Hey, I know. If you'd like I could shoot you guys. You know, do a portrait session and then we can make it a trade for one of the times you play for me."
"Maybe." He starts pretending to tune his guitar hoping she moves off to another topic.
"I bet she's beautiful. Hey, so why only a maybe? Is she camera shy?"
"Beautiful? Yes, and I guess you can say she's camera shy," he agrees. His jaw tenses.
…and Edward shy.
…and marriage vows shy.
…and would probably rather get her portrait shot with her current boyfriend instead of me.
Absentmindedly twisting his wedding band on his finger, he turns away and tries to regain his composure. Part of him knows he could just be upfront with her, but he's so used to not disclosing the truth about his marriage that he resists. The more people he tells the more real it will be and he's not ready for that.
When he turns back her eyes are closed and she grins as a breeze picks up and brushes over them. She wiggles her toes in the grass.
How can she always be so happy? She's like a fantastical creature created to pull me a dozen different directions.
His next selection is an obscure song. He taps his foot as he plays. She watches him and takes in every note. His voice is clear and strong and she lets it lift her until she feels like she's floating over the grass. She can tell he's getting tired, but selfishly, she never wants him to quit. He's mesmerizing to watch. She's never met a man who stirs her up inside like he does.
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Ready for a break, he sets his guitar down and stretches his arms.
"So tell me more about your photography business. It sounds like you have a lot of clients."
"Yeah, and I turn people away all the time. The interesting thing is that it wasn't always that way. When I changed my mind about how I wanted to work, everything changed."
She pours the last of the wine in their glasses and takes a sip.
"What do you mean?"
"I used to have a commercial studio space and I did all kinds of work. Product, ads, actors' head shots…whatever came my way. Then one of my product clients asked me to shoot a black and white portrait of he and his fiancé. They're a great couple—lots of fun – …they have such a great energy between them.
"We did the shoot in the evening. It was very relaxed. We played music, drank wine, and just had a great time. By the end of the session I wasn't even sure if I'd gotten what they wanted but I wasn't charging them so there wasn't the same kind of pressure.
"The funny thing is that when I saw the proofs I was knocked out. We got such great stuff."
"I saw your work when I came in. I'm not surprised," he responds.
She grins. "Thank you."
"So was the couple happy with the images?"
"They were thrilled. They're very social and hang in some high profile circles. They started telling everyone they knew about me. Within six months, I was shooting more couples portraits than anything else but my experience with the shoots was unpredictable. You'd think anyone asking for these portraits would be a couple that had a lot of love between them, but my lens was like an eye into their relationship. More often than not the issues between couples would come out during the shoot.
He nods his head, imagining what it would've been like doing this kind of session with Lauren before she left him.
"The breaking point was this very handsome couple, I adored the wife…she was a gentle soul—really lovely. But her husband was a controlling, dominating kind of guy. Halfway through the shoot he wanted to do some shots waist up without their shirts on. She really didn't want to, but he pushed and pushed until he wore her down."
She rests her chin against her knee and sighs.
"I didn't need to see the proofs to know how uncomfortable she was, her hands covering her breasts, the fear in her eyes. And then he started in taunting her, suggesting that if she was that ashamed of her breasts why didn't she get them worked on like he'd asked her to."
"What an idiot," he says.
She nods. "I was so horrified. As you can imagine, the shoot was over. She started to cry and walked off the set. Then I let him have it."
"Good for you."
"The experience crushed my spirit for the work. I really had to do some soul searching to figure out what I wanted to do.
"So I finally decided that I would interview every couple first before we worked together. If I didn't get a good hit off of them I'd turn down the job. I also didn't disclose the prices until we met. If a couple was great but couldn't afford it, I'd lower the price so that they could."
"Wow, that was gutsy," Edward says. "From the looks of it though that must have worked out for you."
"That's the irony," she agrees. "When you create a mystique people are drawn to it like a moth to a flame. I have a two month waiting list just to have our initial meeting and from there an even longer wait for the shoot. The tough part is when I turn people down they can get a little nuts, or become pushy, but I can't be manipulated."
"I'll keep that in mind," he responds, smiling as he finishes off his wine.
"Yeah, I know I have a reputation of being eccentric, and I don't care. This is who I am."
"You definitely aren't like anyone else I've met. I think you're pretty cool actually."
She smiles. "Thanks, Mr. C."
"So I suppose that means you can turn down the unattractive people too."
"I wouldn't do that," she insists, horrified. "Actually it's interesting, because the best subjects rarely are the really pretty ones," she says quietly. "I've seen profound love with the most unexpected people."
"That must be encouraging to witness."
He's not even sure he believes that kind of love still exists, or if it does, it's tenuous like a guitar string—if played too hard, it just snaps.
"Yes, I am awed to capture it on film, but it has ruined me for relationships," she admits. "Until I find that kind of connection, I just can't be bothered."
"You don't have a boyfriend?" Edward asks. "We talked earlier about you not being married but I thought you were kidding before about not dating."
In the moment before she answers, he tries to imagine what species of boyfriend Ms. Isabella would have. Nothing would surprise him. Her boyfriend could be a Spanish flamenco dancer or an architect that constructs miniature doll houses for her in his spare time.
He already despises the idea and pushes it out of his mind.
"No, not for a while. Not since my mom died."
He doesn't ask more. He's not sure he wants to hear the answer. It sounds too close to his own life and the endless echo of his loss.
Feeling the weight of their conversation, she gets up and goes inside, then comes back out minutes later grinning. She has another bottle of wine, a tray of items, and two long, thin metal wires.
"What's that?"
"Hey, we're going to make s'mores." She tosses him the long tube of matches. "Go on, light up the fire pit."
"You didn't bake for me?" he teases.
"Are you turning your nose up at the culinary masterpiece that is s'mores? I must now re-adjust every thought I've ever had about you, sir."
He shakes his head and reluctantly accepts the roasting skewer from her. "You're making me work for this and one day you'll regret your actions."
She laughs as she pulls open the marshmallow bag. She holds the little white pillow between her fingers while he spears it.
He doesn't cooperate with the s'more concept initially…his first marshmallow he cavalierly waves into the fire until it explodes into a tiny ball of flames. He lifts his skewer like a feeble sword and waves the burning sweet through the darkening sky. The fire finally extinguishes and all that's left is the sad, charred remains of what was once plump goodness. He peels it off the skewer and hurls it into the bushes.
She arches her brow at him in disbelief.
He shrugs his shoulders. "Squirrel food."
"Nice, Mr. C.," she teases. "The squirrels deserve much better you know."
"Better them than me," he grumbles.
..~*~..
Later, at the front door, she tries to pay him.
"No!" He pushes her hand full of cash away. "I don't want your money. We talked more than I played."
She sets her hands on her hips. "But you did play and we have agreement. You know I'm beginning to think that you've been lying to me about something."
His stomach drops. How did she find out about Lauren?
"Lying?" he asks, his heart pounding.
"The day we met you told me you were an ass. That couldn't be further from the truth."
He laughs. "Well, not yet anyway." He grins widely. "Although you know what? I did lie about something before we met."
"Really?"
"Yes, I told you I didn't need any new friends…but I think I did."
"Me too." She looks so happy.
If only Lauren had been so easy to please. She always made him feel like he was letting her down.
He can see Isabella's studying his chin all of a sudden. She grins.
"What?"
"You've got chocolate all over your mouth. For someone who turned their nose up at s'mores you look like you got a bit carried away."
He smirks then starts wildly licking his lips like a tiger after a big meal. "Did I get it all?"
She licks her finger and steps closer. "Here, you missed a spot. She rubs her finger on a spot on his chin then licks it off her finger. She looks up and suddenly notices the look in his eyes.
Hunger and heat. She knows that look. It's raw desire.
As quickly as she's aroused by the idea of it, her thrill turns to fear. He's married.
Married she repeats in her head.
There's no denying how attractive he is, but this can't be. Was she leading him on? It wouldn't be the first time her passionate nature encouraged things.
She looks down and takes a step back. Her cheeks are flushed. She needs to get away from all these feelings.
"Okay then, I've got to get back to the darkroom. Thanks again for another great evening."
He can feel the shift between them and he's not sure what to say. It's clear he's made her uncomfortable. She hasn't mentioned next week. What if this is the last time they see each other?
What if…
His head is spinning with confusion and thoughts of Lauren.
When he's out on the front porch and the door closes behind him, he takes a deep breath of night air. It takes all of his composure to calmly walk to his car and lock his guitar in the trunk. Reaching back to pat his back pocket, he makes sure he has his wallet. He needs a drink. He can't get to Jasper's bar fast enough.
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On the other side of the closed door, Isabella presses against the cool wood with her eyes closed. Her skin is on fire. When his car starts up she peeks out the entry way window to see him pull away. As soon as he's out of her vision, the sudden emptiness terrifies her.
Leaving a trail of clothes through the house, she rushes to the swimming pool. She lowers herself into the deep water and sinks to her knees as her hair slowly unfurls.
She prays for absolution…anything to cleanse her of the dark thoughts that are filling all the spaces in her mind.
..~*~..
"Michael?"
"Hey, Bella. What's up?"
"I need some advice."
"Tax advice? I thought we went over everything already."
"No not accounting stuff…it's about this guy."
"Why me for that kind of advice? What about Angela, or Leah, or any one of your other friends?"
"No, it has to be you because you're a man."
"Oh, I see. I'm a man who was involved with you and thus has insight into your crazy mind."
"Yeah, that's it," she replies, not the smallest bit offended. "That's the other reason you are exactly who I should talk to. You understand how guys think and you sort of understand how I think."
"If I understood how you think, we'd have been married by now and you wouldn't be asking about other men."
"But look, we've managed to remain friends through it all. Do you think a married man and a single woman can be friends?"
"Oh hell, are you serious?"
"Yes, I'm serious. Do you?"
"No."
"Really? There's no chance at all?"
"Come on, Bella. What do you think? Who is this guy anyway?"
She sighs. "His name is Edward. I hired him to play music for me. He's amazing."
"You know you can't write that off as an expense, right?"
"Michael, would you stop with the accounting stuff for a minute?"
"First, tell me why you think he's so great."
"For one, he's incredibly talented…a wonderful musician with a beautiful voice. It's something else, though. From the moment I first heard him I felt like we had a connection. I just sense something special about him."
"Special?" Michael asks. "So you think that he'd be perfect for you if he weren't married?"
"No, he's not perfect. It seems he's going through something and he's shut down, but I'm convinced that if he can get past it he could be extraordinary."
"I see. He has a lot of baggage and now you're going to fix him," Michaels says.
"That's not what I meant," Bella replies, frustrated. "Just forget it. Instead, can you explain to me why you think it's impossible for us to be friends?"
"Look, I suppose it's not completely impossible. Let's hope that he's madly in love with his wife and has a very satisfying sex life with her. Then it would be helpful if he thinks you're strange or something along those lines because if he's attracted to you, there's no chance you can be friends. Judging from the tenor of your voice, and the way you're fighting logic, it sounds like you're attracted to him."
"I'm afraid I am?" she says softly.
"You're playing with fire, my friend. You need to walk away."
She takes in his words and tosses them around her head. She's terribly disappointed but she knows what she has to do. "Okay, you're right. I'll call and tell him no more gigs."
"Good. Keep it clean. Make life easier for yourself, not harder."
What's so good about anything that's easier, she wonders with a heavy heart.
"Okay, thanks Michael. Really."
"You're welcome, Bella."
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The phone rings five times before it goes to voicemail. She twists a strand of hair around her fingers nervously. She's frustrated he doesn't answer, but also she's glad for the reprieve. She has a little more time now to get used to the idea of no longer having him in her life.
Hey, Edward, it's Bella. I hope you're having a grand day. Anyway, I need to talk to you about something. Can you give me a call? Okay, thanks. Bye.
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abbie
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