Nobody's Fool Read Free

physique, grayish-green eyes and dark wavy hair. He looked like a stranger, yet so familiar at the same time.
    She took a step forward and then stopped, trying to regain her equilibrium. “Courtney?” No. No way. This could not be Courtney Harrison, George and Becky’s son. The Courtney Harrison who’d befriended her in childhood and worshiped her until they’d graduated high school. This man had never been the gangly kid with the buck teeth and thick glasses who’d doted on her every day of junior high, seemingly immune to her subtle put-downs. He couldn’t be the kid she’d practiced her feminine wiles on during early adolescent, or the one she’d laughed at when he’d mistakenly taken her experimentation seriously. Back then he’d been an even nerdier version of Clark Kent.
    He smiled and she got a glimpse of perfectly aligned teeth and strong lips. Where were the crowded teeth? The braces? The headgear?
    “Most everyone calls me ‘Court’ these days,” he said as he came forward. “It’s good to see you again, Jolie.”
    He put his arms around her. Jolie’s head swam as she caught a light whiff of citrusy cologne. Her spine tingled and her toes curled before he stepped back.
    Clark Kent had turned into Superman, complete with the stray lock of hair that fell over his forehead.
    “Wow!” Had she said that out loud? “It’s, uh, good to see you, too.” Everyone chuckled and sat back down.
    Was it her imagination or did Courtney—Court’s gaze linger on her? He relaxed back into his seat and sipped iced tea, but Jolie felt attuned to him nonetheless, even as she engaged in small talk with her parents and their friends.
    With one part of her brain she tried to analyze her reaction, while outwardly she kept up with the conversation. In truth, she felt shell-shocked and longed for the retreat of her childhood bedroom where she could sort out the feelings Court’s embrace had churned up.
    She watched him laugh at a story her father told, noted his long manly fingers curved around his glass, the breadth of his shoulders and the depth of his chest. She felt herself flush as her mind traveled elsewhere while her gaze lingered on the parts of him not covered by a dark blue shirt and khaki slacks.
    Had she been twelve or thirteen when she’d convinced him to practice kissing her? Not that she’d had to try too hard to convince him of anything back then. He’d been her willing slave, hopelessly smitten with her since the third grade. She could still remember the touch of his lips against hers, and when they’d progressed to open-mouth kissing, the prickle of his braces.
    He’d been crushed when she moved on to a real boyfriend and ended their practice sessions. But not so crushed he wouldn’t help her with her algebra homework or her science projects.
    Courtney Harrison. She’d used him her whole life, even going so far as to spend the night of their senior prom with him in her twisted quest for male attention.

Chapter Two
    “Hey, Princess. Want a ride?”
    Jolie stopped on the sidewalk and turned. Courtney Harrison smiled at her from behind the wheel of his father’s Infiniti.
    Her feet in their strappy four-inch heels were killing her. She hadn’t wanted to walk home from the senior prom, but Chip Sobeleski had abandoned her to get drunk with the other jocks from the football team. Some of her fellow cheerleaders had organized a prom night sleepover, but Jolie had bowed out. Disappointment had been following her ever since she’d left the civic center. The boy next door always seemed to show up just when she needed him.
    She held up the hem of her gown and tiptoed across the grass moist with dew to the driver’s side window. “You’re going home already?” she asked him.
    “I came. I saw. I had enough. Hop in.”
    There was no good reason not to. Once she was in he put the car in gear. He parked the car in his parents’ driveway and walked Jolie to her front porch. She’d had such high