He had molded and shaped her, modeling her into the woman he wanted to have. She wasn’t that woman any more though—she’d been shaped by Mike into his fantasy, or maybe she’d grown into being her own fantasy.
Either way, he didn’t find her enticing, not any more.
He remembered Michelle’s assertion that he had loved the idea of Joanna more than the reality. He heard again Michelle asking him what Joanna wanted, what she believed, what she dreamed of achieving. He knew that Michelle believed he knew almost nothing about Joanna.
He might have argued that—until tonight. The assertive feminine woman in black who stood him could have been a stranger. He knew nothing about her, and he didn’t want to.
Rex stood there, stunned. His adoration of Joanna had been the axis of his universe for so long that he felt unsteady without it.
Joanna, meanwhile, put out her hand, her confident smile in place. “I’m glad to see that you survived the fire at the Plume, Rex. How are you doing otherwise?”
They might have been old acquaintances meeting on the street. Two people who had gone to high school together but had little in common.
It was a deflating moment.
But then, Joanna was marrying Mike soon.
“Fine,” he managed to say, not taking her hand. “Everything coming along for the wedding?”
If he’d been hoping that the question might make her blush, Rex was due for a surprise. Maybe a disappointment. He’d loved how she blushed.
Joanna smiled with obvious pleasure. “Yes, it is. By the way, is Rafe here?” She glanced over the crowd. “I need to get even with Mike for something and wanted Rafe to help.”
“He is here somewhere,” Rex confirmed, not even curious about what she had planned for Mike. “I saw him last at the bar.”
“I’ll find him.” Her gaze danced over his bare chest but there was no spark of desire in her eyes. “Getting some ink?”
He felt about as smooth as he had in high school, when she’d interviewed him for the newspaper. Once again, Joanna was the one with the confidence he so admired, the one with the plan for the future and the ability to make it happen. In contrast, he’d become the loser with the long-shot dream again. The thing was that he’d achieved his dream, then fucked up and lost it. He’d created something wonderful, but had made one too many enemies and pushed too far. The destruction of the Plume combined with Leya’s deception—never mind that he hadn’t seen either incident coming—made Rex feel dumb.
Seeing how Joanna learned from her experience at the Plume and moved forward reinforced Rex’s sense that he was a failure.
It was no wonder he didn’t find her attractive. Her poise challenged his own self-esteem, especially in this moment.
Rex turned his shoulder so she could see the marker lines Zeke had put on his skin, wishing she’d leave. “He’s still tweaking the design.”
“It’ll look good.” Joanna paused as if she’d had a thought, then looked over the room. The music was being turned up again and people were starting to dance. “Do all these people have that commemorative tattoo?”
“How do you know about it?”
“Louise told me. Do they?”
Rex nodded. He showed her the images he’d already taken, using the display on the back of the digital camera. She wasn’t interested in seeing all of them, though, because her gaze kept wandering back to the other party goers. She was thinking about something else, and he found himself resenting her distraction.
“Oh, look, there’s Rafe,” Joanna said suddenly, pointing across the room. Sure enough, the former chauffeur of the Plume was leaning against the wall, his eyes hidden behind his mirrored sunglasses.
Rex watched Joanna for a moment, seeing how she cut through the crowd with determination. A forthright Joanna didn’t work for him, not at all. That was maybe a good thing. She wasn’t for him anyway.
It was time for Rex to move on.
But maybe he could learn
Either way, he didn’t find her enticing, not any more.
He remembered Michelle’s assertion that he had loved the idea of Joanna more than the reality. He heard again Michelle asking him what Joanna wanted, what she believed, what she dreamed of achieving. He knew that Michelle believed he knew almost nothing about Joanna.
He might have argued that—until tonight. The assertive feminine woman in black who stood him could have been a stranger. He knew nothing about her, and he didn’t want to.
Rex stood there, stunned. His adoration of Joanna had been the axis of his universe for so long that he felt unsteady without it.
Joanna, meanwhile, put out her hand, her confident smile in place. “I’m glad to see that you survived the fire at the Plume, Rex. How are you doing otherwise?”
They might have been old acquaintances meeting on the street. Two people who had gone to high school together but had little in common.
It was a deflating moment.
But then, Joanna was marrying Mike soon.
“Fine,” he managed to say, not taking her hand. “Everything coming along for the wedding?”
If he’d been hoping that the question might make her blush, Rex was due for a surprise. Maybe a disappointment. He’d loved how she blushed.
Joanna smiled with obvious pleasure. “Yes, it is. By the way, is Rafe here?” She glanced over the crowd. “I need to get even with Mike for something and wanted Rafe to help.”
“He is here somewhere,” Rex confirmed, not even curious about what she had planned for Mike. “I saw him last at the bar.”
“I’ll find him.” Her gaze danced over his bare chest but there was no spark of desire in her eyes. “Getting some ink?”
He felt about as smooth as he had in high school, when she’d interviewed him for the newspaper. Once again, Joanna was the one with the confidence he so admired, the one with the plan for the future and the ability to make it happen. In contrast, he’d become the loser with the long-shot dream again. The thing was that he’d achieved his dream, then fucked up and lost it. He’d created something wonderful, but had made one too many enemies and pushed too far. The destruction of the Plume combined with Leya’s deception—never mind that he hadn’t seen either incident coming—made Rex feel dumb.
Seeing how Joanna learned from her experience at the Plume and moved forward reinforced Rex’s sense that he was a failure.
It was no wonder he didn’t find her attractive. Her poise challenged his own self-esteem, especially in this moment.
Rex turned his shoulder so she could see the marker lines Zeke had put on his skin, wishing she’d leave. “He’s still tweaking the design.”
“It’ll look good.” Joanna paused as if she’d had a thought, then looked over the room. The music was being turned up again and people were starting to dance. “Do all these people have that commemorative tattoo?”
“How do you know about it?”
“Louise told me. Do they?”
Rex nodded. He showed her the images he’d already taken, using the display on the back of the digital camera. She wasn’t interested in seeing all of them, though, because her gaze kept wandering back to the other party goers. She was thinking about something else, and he found himself resenting her distraction.
“Oh, look, there’s Rafe,” Joanna said suddenly, pointing across the room. Sure enough, the former chauffeur of the Plume was leaning against the wall, his eyes hidden behind his mirrored sunglasses.
Rex watched Joanna for a moment, seeing how she cut through the crowd with determination. A forthright Joanna didn’t work for him, not at all. That was maybe a good thing. She wasn’t for him anyway.
It was time for Rex to move on.
But maybe he could learn
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