***This is my first attempt at a Romance. Compared to my other stories, this one is light on the sex.***
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O'Neal's wife closed the French doors and came out onto the deck to stand next to Dexter, they both looked out over the lake.
"Pretty sunset," she said. She was a small and slender woman with dark hair cascading beyond her shoulders. She had the sort of little compact body that he referred to as a gymnast cheerleader. She smelled faintly of one of those subtle yet expensive perfumes. Nice.
"Pretty sky," he added.
"Listen, thanks for everything. Getting Sam to the hospital, helping out," she said quietly.
"Don't mention it. I'm glad I went along with him today otherwise that dumb lug would probably still be laying out in the woods."
She shuddered at the thought.
He chuckled, "I tried to tell him that old oak didn't look good. Hell, the tree smelled of rot but he was determined to put that deer stand up there. He climbed right on up there and when he reached up and grabbed a hold of that branch and it snapped Sam goes 'ah, fuck me,' and the next thing I know he's on the ground. I ran over to check on him, see if he's alright, and he looks up at me and says, 'Not a word Dex, I don't want to hear a fucking word'," shaking his head as he finished the story.
They both started laughing and her smile nearly knocked him off of his feet. He felt that he was staring at her, that she knew it and was amused. He tried not to stare but Joann O'Neal was somebody to stare at. She was extraordinarily good looking; her beauty was almost unnatural; he found that it was hard to breath. She may have been a little heavy, maybe ten pounds, but round in all of the right places. Her hair dark brown, streaked with blond strands, her face lush with placid, pale blue eyes. He'd always liked Sam's wife. If the O'Neal's marriage hadn't have been so solid, if they weren't so happy with each other...
"Well, I should go," he said, turning to leave.
"Dex? Thanks again," she said as she reached out and touched his arm. She was one of those kinds of women who liked to touch people. "You know that Jennifer and the kids are moving back to town. She'll be staying here until she gets settled. You should call her."
"I don't know. It's really been a long time and we didn't exactly end things on the best of terms." He chuckled, "Hell, I think she sort of hated me."
"I don't think she hates you, she still asks about you. Just think about it Dex. Time passes."
"Yeah, time does pass, but sometimes it beats the hell out of you first," he said, the smile sliding from his face, then he closed his eyes, rubbed them with a thumb and forefinger. "Jesus Christ, what'd I just say?"
She stood there looking at him for a long moment; she almost had an amused look on her face. "Dexter, just think about it, okay? I know my sister, she'd enjoy seeing you again."
"I'll think about it," he said, noncommittally.
Later, as he was driving home, his body running the car, his eyes intent on the road, but his mind was stuck on Jennifer. She would be older, obviously, but then again, so was he.
He tried to gather back the memory of the last time he'd seen her. The memories came swimming up from the past: the way she moved, her beauty, the sound of her laugh, the way she smelled, but mainly he remembered the way she would look at him, somewhere between adoration and amusement. She had always kept him off balance.
Jen had been an enthusiastic lover. They had learned a lot together, always trying new techniques, sometimes almost getting clinical and at other times he remembered it was almost an animalistic frenzy. She had liked sex. A lot.
Flashing back on it, Dex felt himself...stir.
He'd dated Jen twelve years ago for over two and a half years. They were supposed to be married, but that didn't pan out. Dexter Giovanni hadn't been involved in a long term relationship with a woman since Jennifer. He'd dated a couple of dozen different women in that time. He went through women like a revolving door, the relationships just sort of spinning away.
Ah jeez, he thought, my love life is a fucking country song.
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Two weeks later Sam got out of the hospital and Dexter helped Joann bring him home. O'Neal was in a wheelchair with a broken arm and one of his legs in a cast. He was still pretty sore, probably would be for a while, but he was mending, getting better.
"Well, I gotta get back downtown," Dex said looking at Sam and Joann. "We've got the Worthington case running us around in circles."
"Thanks again Dex," Joann said as she stood on her tiptoes and pecked him on the cheek.
"Look, if you guys need anything, call me."
He backed out of the room, turned, and nearly ran over a woman who had just about entered the doorway.
"Dexter," she said, and showed a tiny smile.
"Jennifer." His heart thumped.
She smiled at him and he studied her face; she was beautiful, tough and vulnerable all at the same time.
"I, uh, Jennifer. Wow! You look great," he said, finally getting something intelligible out after stumbling all over himself.
Amused, she said, "Where are you rushing off to? I'd like to talk with you sometime."
"Aw jeez. I've got to get back downtown. You, ah, could walk me out to my car. We could talk a little on the way." Dexter said looking into her dark blue eyes, like deep, warm pools, he felt as though he could fall into them.
"Okay." As she stepped past him, she caught his wrist in her hand and led him out of the room.
On the way out the front door she let go of his wrist, and looked up into his ruggedly handsome face, "Joann said you'd be over today. I've been thinking about you all morning, about the time we spent together."
"Joann, it seems, has been the busy little matchmaker lately," he said, his friendly steel blue eyes sparkling with humor. "She got me thinking about you, about us, a couple of weeks ago when Sam first hurt himself."
"You've been thinking about me?" She asked, pressing her fingers to her lips, thinking.
At his car now they stopped, he turned to her and said, "How could I not think about you, Jennifer? Could I buy you dinner tonight down at the Bel Aire?" He asked, looking down at her.
"I can't tonight. We have school registration this evening. How about tomorrow?"
"Yeah, that would be good. You want me to pick you up?"
"How about I meet you there, say, six o'clock?"
"That'd be great," he said. "I'm sorry, but I've really got to run. See ya tomorrow."
As he turned to leave she grabbed his ear, pulled his head down, and kissed him on the cheek. "See ya," she said.
Jennifer. As soon as he had left he wanted to turn the car around and go back to her, he wanted to talk to her some more. She was still a pretty woman. Her breasts were bigger, probably attributed to motherhood; they now produced a deep, inviting cleavage.
