To: Becky Belker, Bliss Harper, Chloe Wells, Fran Jameson, Miranda Ellson, Vicky Sutherland
From: SikorskiK@WIndianaU.edu
Hello to all of Gracie’s Girls, class of 1999. Once again, thanks to all of you for the flowers and phone calls after my aunt Gracie’s passing last winter. You all meant so much to her, and to me.
As I’m sure you all know, our tenth college reunion is coming up this fall. Since I now have Gracie’s big rambling house all to myself, I’d like to extend an invitation. If any of you are coming back for the reunion, you’re more than welcome to stay here, in your old rooms. Gracie quit taking in college students several years back, so there’s no one here but me, and I’d love to have some company while I’m getting the house ready to put on the market. So what do you say? One last time as roommates? It would be great to see all of you again.
Hugs,
Karen
* * * *
Ten years later and almost nothing had changed.
Karen Sikorski looked around the hotel ballroom and sipped her soda water. Most of her friends were out on the dance floor. So why wasn’t she? When she’d had the idea to invite all her old housemates to stay with her for their ten-year college reunion, she’d been so happy at the thought of seeing them again. Now it looked like most of them had something—or someone—more interesting than Karen on their minds.
She tugged at the hem of her requisite little black dress. It was a simple sleeveless sheath, with wide straps, a modest neckline and a hem that just grazed the tops of her knees. She wore it for everything—faculty dinners, fundraising cocktail parties, even her great aunt’s funeral. Tonight her friends had convinced her to leave off the matching jacket and to wear Aunt Gracie’s 1950s opera-length faux pearls. When she’d arrived, she’d felt pretty and daring. Now she mostly felt frumpy and awkward—as usual.
“Would you care to dance?” The deep male voice was warm as molten chocolate in her ear. And familiar. Surely it couldn’t… She spun to the side and found herself staring straight into his groin.
Slim hips clad in impeccable black trousers greeted her view. They were cut too loosely to show much, but as her gaze traveled up past the narrow waist, broad chest and even broader shoulders revealed by his open suit jacket and crisp white shirt, she was practically salivating. His tie was a playful graphic design of multicolored frogs, perfectly knotted. Finally, she took in the tanned, handsome face that smiled down at her, and Karen felt her own cheeks flush.
Blond, blue-eyed Warner Beckett was every bit as gorgeous as he had been in college. Why in the hell was the king of the frat boys asking her to dance?
“Dance?” he repeated with that sexy grin that had haunted her dreams all through school—many of them erotic. “I’m Warner Beckett, by the way.”
“I...I know,” she managed. “We’ve met.” Not that he’d remember her, of course. Hell, he hadn’t even done that the day after he’d rescued her from two of his drunken frat brothers. Still, she couldn’t seem to help placing her hand in his outstretched one and letting him help her to her feet. She’d had a crush on Warner all through college, since right after she’d moved into her great-aunt Gracja, or Gracie’s, boardinghouse just blocks away from Western Indiana University. Most of “Gracie’s Girls” had crushed on the guys in the houseful of jocks next door, but not Karen. She’d only had eyes for the rich, blond playboy three doors down. Warner had always been nice to her, fueling her fantasies. He walked her home from campus on a few occasions, and always smiled and talked to her when their paths crossed.
Oh yeah, she had it bad.
“I remember you, Karen.” They made their way out to the crowded dance floor and Warner swung her into his arms. “You were the shy little scientist down the street, who took the trouble to tutor idiots like Donny Gillespie and Pete Miller.” He named the two frat boys she had tutored—until she’d shown up one night when they’d been drinking. The big brutes had decided they would do her the favor of taking her virginity, until Warner heard her scream and came to the rescue. “They didn’t bother you again, did they?”
His arm was warm and strong around her waist, while his other hand held hers in a careful clasp. Karen fought the urge to lay her head on his lapel and shook her head. “No. I left for grad school just a few weeks later. I never really got to thank you for saving me that night.”
“No thanks necessary, sugar. I’m just glad I was there.”
Karen almost opened her mouth to remind him that she had come over the next afternoon to thank him. She’d made a big batch of chocolate chip cookies then walked three doors down to the frat house to give them to her knight in shining armor. When she got there, Warner had been sitting on the porch swing, a barely-clothed blonde in his lap, drinking a beer. When she’d handed him the cookies, he’d looked at her with glazed eyes and asked, “Do I know you?”
She never stepped foot on the frat house property again.
“So what are you up to these days?” He asked in a low murmur that sent a shiver of desire down Karen’s spine.
At first, she couldn’t remember how to speak. Just having her face this close to him, she was nearly overwhelmed by his rich masculine scent. Her brain had shut down and her one pair of black satin panties was damp.
“Karen?” he asked again. “You still with me?”
“Mmm-hmm.” She inhaled deeply then forced herself to look up into his face. His wide smile made her stumble on the unfamiliar heels Bliss and Chloe had talked her into wearing.
“Easy there.” He caught her easily and held her steady.
“And I haven’t even been drinking,” she managed with a laugh. “Sorry for being so clumsy.”
“It’s crowded in here,” Warner offered. “Probably stepped on a napkin or something on the dance floor. No worries.”
“Thanks.” She still felt like the clumsy, awkward girl who’d never quite known how to handle social situations.
“So how long are you in town?” he asked.
“Oh—” She’d been so busy trying not to stumble again that she’d forgotten to answer his original question. “I live here now. I teach at—”
Before she could finish, a tall, willowy redhead came onto the dance floor and tugged Warner’s sleeve.
“Come on, War. We need you outside for pictures.”
“In a minute, Lindsey,” he said. “I’ll be right there.”
“No, now,” she insisted. “The guys want to blow this boring party and go have some real fun.” She kept hold of him, standing so close there was no way they could continue the dance.
Warner looked down at Karen regretfully. “Can I catch up with you after I take care of this?”
She nodded, fighting to keep the sick sense of despair from showing on her face. Same old Warner, damn it.
“Karen...” He touched her cheek briefly, before the redhead pulled him away.
Karen stood on the dance floor staring after them as the woman dragged him out of the ballroom. She’d been right. Not a damn thing had changed since college.
Unable to face another minute of the party, she quietly gathered her purse and her sweater then headed for home.
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