Mad About You

reason, Ginny seemed more open and fun-loving tonight—but was it because she was becoming more receptive to him, or because he'd promised her a night on the town with "no funny stuff?"
    They stood shoulder to shoulder, studying the hundreds of signatures and sayings which mostly merged into illegible garble.
    "I see them!" she cried, pointing just above his head.
    "Where?"
    "Right there! See the red V? You can barely make out the rest of it, but I see your name just underneath."
    He spotted their names, and smiled. "Yeah, there they are."
    "We were just kids when we wrote our names up there," she said.
    "And now we have one."
    She tilted her head slightly, looking into his eyes. "Isn't life strange?" she asked, her voice soft.
    He studied her caramel eyes, his heart skipping a beat. "Seems to have come full circle for us."
    She bit her bottom lip. "Which reminds me, I’m going to call Mom to see how things are going." She gestured to the alcove where the bathrooms were located. "I'll be right back."
    Before his eyes she'd transformed into a worried mother. As he watched her make the phone call, Bailey felt a pang of guilt — he hadn't even thought her parents might be having problems with Chad, or vice versa. She caught his glance and gave him a thumbs up, then ended the call. Lover, mother, friend—Ginny was a total package. He craved her so badly, her body and her companionship, he felt real physical pain.
    "Order's up," their waitress yelled, slamming the trays down in front of their seats.
    "I'm starved." Ginny patted her stomach, her eyes wide.
    "Me too," he said, watching her walk back to the table, and feeling his groin tighten. "Me too."

    * * *

    Ginny chewed the saucy meat slowly, savoring the textures and spices. Worth waiting for, the platter of chopped pork barbecue and sweet corn bread satisfied her hunger and her senses.
    "What have you been doing for the past eight years?" she asked between mouthfuls.
    His eyebrows climbed as he pondered her question, then grinned. "Not a whole hell of a lot, I guess." He raised his beer for a drink.
    "Oh, come on," she urged. "Restoring cars?"
    He nodded. "Landscaping during the week, working on the cars on the weekends. And there's always plenty to do around the farm. I took up cross-country biking a couple of years ago."
    "Really?" she asked. "Where have you been?"
    "This spring a couple of guys from the cycling club I belong to invited me to ride to North Carolina. Next year we want to go out west, where the bicycle trails are more rugged."
    "Do you still play basketball?"
    "On a winter league." He shrugged. "It's good exercise. How about you? What have you been doing besides going back to school?"
    She tilted her head. "A coworker of mine has a sailboat on Lake Erie, so I spend weekends there sometimes."
    He wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Is this a male friend?"
    Glancing up from her plate, she realized what he was asking and smiled impishly. "Yes, Robert is definitely a man, but his wife and grandchildren make it awfully hard for us to carry on our torrid affair."
    He smiled wryly and picked up his fork "Did you ever come close to remarrying?"
    She nodded slowly. "Once."
    Virginia noticed Bailey had tightened his grip on his fork. "What happened?"
    "He was divorced and had shared custody of his two children. The kids saw me as the obstacle for their parents getting back together. I decided it wasn't worth all the trouble it caused his family." And she couldn’t be around his children without thinking of her own lost child…
    He stabbed his fork into a chunk of meat. "So you really loved this guy?"
    Lifting the beer to her mouth, she said, "I thought I did, but I got over it pretty quickly, so I guess I didn't." She took a swallow, then said, "How about you?"
    "I came close a couple of times, but it didn't pan out."
    Why did that hurt? "Your decision?"
    "Yes." He wrapped his hand around his beer. "Are you still sculpting?"
    Shaking her head, she sighed. "Not in years. I have good intentions, but never seem to get a piece started. I'm on my computer a lot in the evenings, catching up on work."
    "Which reminds me, I'm starting a new job Monday and—"
    "What new job?" Another surprise.
    He seemed sheepish. "I'm joining my company's design team."
    Smiling, she straightened. "That's wonderful, Bailey. When did this happen?"
    "Last week."
    "Why haven’t you mentioned it?"
    Shrugging, he said, "It seemed as if we always had more important things to