by Roni Loren
His lips curved back into that patronizing smirk he was so good at. “And you’re boring in bed and my intellectual inferior, but I’ve learned to live with it. At least you’re nice to look at now that you’ve gotten your gym routine back on course.”
The hateful words knocked the breath right out of her. Doug had said mean things to her before in the heat of the moment. They’d been together since high school, so of course they’d had their fights. He could be critical beyond reason, always watching that she didn’t eat too many calories or go outdoors without makeup or say the wrong thing in public. She’d tolerated it because she knew how concerned about image he was in his business. And she’d comforted herself with those moments when he was sweet and indulgent with her behind closed doors. He had the capacity to make her feel like a princess. And even though those times had grown few and far between over the last five years, she’d had no idea his opinion of her had sunk so low. Boring in bed. Inferior. Stupid.
God, is that what he told the women he cheated on her with? My wife isn’t too bright, and she’s clueless in the sack.
She grabbed her purse, her stomach threatening to toss up all its contents. She couldn’t stand here for another second and look at his smarmy face, smell the scent of sex in the air. “Go to hell, Doug. I hope you’re happy with your college-educated whores. Now you won’t have to worry about me getting in the way.”
He scoffed. “Come on, Tessa. Stop being melodramatic. You’re not going to divorce me. Your life and everything in it exist because of me. Leave and it all goes away. You’re going to give up all this just because I like a novel fuck every now and then? Please.” He grabbed his wallet and flipped a piece a plastic her way. “Take the credit card. Go punish me by buying something useless and extravagant—you’re good at that—and we’ll move on.”
The credit card landed at her feet, and she had the urge to spear its platinum face with the heel of her Jimmy Choo pump. He was right. If she left him, every bit of her lifestyle would disappear in a poof. From the clothes on her back to the oranges she’d just hurled at him—all of it was funded by him. There’d be no way to prove his affair in court, not with the legal demons he could afford to hire. And she’d signed a prenup. She’d be left with a pittance of alimony. All the comfort and security she’d worked toward her whole life would be gone. She’d be back where she started all those years ago—a nobody with nothing.
Alone. With no money of her own and only a high school education to her name.
She bent and picked up the card from the floor, turning it in her fingers before dropping it in her purse.
Doug smiled, satisfied. Victorious.
Without another word, she turned on her heels and calmly walked back out to her Mercedes. When she made it into town, she bought the two most extravagant things she could think of.
The services of an attorney.
And a plane ticket home.
It’d be the last of Doug Barrett’s money she’d ever spend.
Chapter 1
“Hold up. Why are you buying condoms? You said this was an emergency stop.” Tessa snatched the box of Trojans from Sam’s fingertips and held them up like Exhibit A.
Sam sent her an innocent look, one that Tessa had seen her use rather effectively on both sets of foster parents she’d shared with Sam. “What? I’m out. And we may need them.”
“You may need condoms,” Tessa repeated. “For a cooking class.”
Sam grabbed another box from the rack. “We may need them. I’ll get some for you, too. You never know who we might meet.”
Tessa groaned and looked up at the buzzing fluorescent lights of the drugstore. Sam’s ability to look for dating opportunities around every corner never failed to amaze Tessa. “We’re not going to meet anyone. It’s a cooking class. It’s going to be married couples, women, and gay men.”
Which is exactly why Tessa had agreed to go. After months of Sam trying to drag her out to bars or clubs on Friday nights to get her over that “dickwad ex-husband,” finally her friend had come up with something that didn’t make Tessa’s stomach turn and her body break out into a cold sweat. But now, as she took in Sam’s snug skirt and high heels, Tessa’s dread was growing. She’d thought Sam had simply chosen to dress up because the class was being held at one of the swankiest restaurants in Dallas. But now the puzzle pieces were locking together into a new picture.
“Straight men like to cook, too,” Sam pointed out as she strolled away from the prophylactics aisle toward the cosmetics section. “Particularly when it’s a Perfect Match meet-up event.”
Tessa’s shoe squeaked on the floor as she halted mid-stride. “Sam, you better be screwing with me.”
Sam grabbed a lip gloss off a rack and held the colored cap next to Tessa’s mouth, frowned, then picked up a different color. “I’m not screwing with you. I’m helping you. My friend is the receptionist at the local Perfect Match office. She offered to sneak us onto the list because the event wasn’t full. How could I pass it up? It was like fate tapping my shoulder. You want to scratch items off your list. This will accomplish that and maybe get you a date as a bonus. Two for the price of one.”
“Learning to cook is on my list. Dating is not. Dating is actually diametrically opposed to the whole spirit of the list.”
“Diametrically? Wow, someone’s getting A’s in her night classes.” Sam gave her a teasing smile and dropped the lip gloss into her hand basket. “And if I’m not mistaken, one of the items you have on that sacred to-do list of yours is to tackle being ‘boring in bed’. How exactly do you plan to fix that one without actually coming into contact with the opposite sex?”
A guy perusing greeting cards across the aisle gave them a sideways glance and smirked. Tessa’s face heated. “Could you at least try to keep your voice down while discussing my sex life?”
“What sex life?” Sam replied, not bothering to lower her voice. “This is exactly why we’re going tonight. You need to loosen up. Be open to a world of infinite possibilities. And by possibilities, I mean hot men.”
“Ugh.” She should’ve never let Sam see her stupid list. It’d been something she’d written down in those first few weeks after she’d left Doug and her life in Atlanta. She’d landed in Dallas with no plan, no place to stay, no job. All she’d had was her suitcase and a head filled with all the critical things Doug had said to her over the course of their marriage and that final day in the kitchen.
He’d said she was nothing without him.
And as she’d sat in Sam’s guest room one night, trying to put together a resume to apply for jobs and feeling sorry for herself, she’d realized the bastard had been right on some level. Since she’d met Doug in high school, her entire existence had been centered on being who he wanted her to be. Being what everyone wanted her to be. For Doug, it was the doting girlfriend. For her classmates, it was the bubbly, popular cheerleader. For her foster parents, it was the girl who never broke the rules and went to church with them every Sunday.
She’d been a master chameleon without ever realizing it. It’d kept her from being moved to yet another home. It’d kept her safe from the vicious bullying in high school. It’d given her a way to secure a future with a man who would take care of her. She’d never be that little girl left alone and scared again.
Only the whole plan had been built out of Popsicle sticks. She’d counted on someone else for her happiness and security. A fatal mistake. How had she ever let herself be so stupid as to trust someone again? Her mother had said she’d always be there, and look how that had turned out.
As Tessa had stared at that blinking cursor, she’d made a decision. Never would she let herself depend on anyone else again. She would survive on her own. She’d done it for years as a kid. She could do it now. And she wouldn’t just make it through, she’d transform. Thrive. She’d vowed that by the end of the year, a resume of her life would no longe
r be a stark blank page. She would take those insults Doug had hurled at her and use them as fuel, not just to find a job but also to tackle every facet of her life. She’d prove that she was more than the trophy wife she’d let herself become.
But that plan had not included dating. Sex, maybe. Eventually. She didn’t plan to enter the convent and abstain for the rest of her life. But dating and getting any emotional entanglements would only send her sliding backward. “Sam, I’m not ready to date. You know that.”
Sam sighed and linked her arm with Tessa’s, leading her to the register. “So just come for the food and cooking lesson then. The whole point of these meet-ups is that it’s a no-pressure environment. And we’re getting sangria and a fancy meal for free. How long has it been since you’ve had a chance to eat at a restaurant that doesn’t serve food wrapped in greasy paper?”
Tessa groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
One of the main reasons she was interested in cooking classes in the first place was that she missed the delicious meals Doug’s housekeeper used to prepare for them and all the gourmet restaurants she and Doug had gone to regularly. If she had to eat another bowl of canned soup, she may stab herself with the spoon. But she didn’t have the income to fund nice restaurants anymore. So if she wanted to eat something that wasn’t frozen or canned, she was going to have to learn how to cook it herself.
Sam swiped her credit card and took her bag from the cashier. “Exactly. Barcelona is one of the hottest restaurants around. This is your chance for a major treat. The only sacrifice is that you’ll have to make small talk with a stranger who happens to have a penis. Big deal.”
Tessa sighed, her ability to fight against Sam’s hopeful gaze crumbling. Sam had good intentions, even if they were misguided. And really, what was a little awkward small talk with someone Tessa would never see again when there was free sangria to be had? “You’re lucky I’m a sucker for tapas.”
Sam’s face broke into a grin, and she pulled out the lip gloss to give it to Tessa. “Gloss up, babe. Let’s go cook some shrimp and break some hearts.”
***
When Tessa walked through the doors of Barcelona, it was like walking through a portal to a world she wasn’t a native of anymore. Soft Spanish music played, the scent of exotic spices drifted through the air, and the saffron-colored walls flickered with the dancing light of candlelit tables. Every detail screamed trendy elegance and money. As did most of the guests sitting at the tables. She could almost see her old self sitting among them, wineglass in hand, diamonds sparkling at her throat, her husband sitting across from her telling her about the latest acquisition he was working on. Anyone looking at them would’ve been envious.
But seeing the image in her mind’s eye now showed a picture that was warped and tarnished. An illusion. The conversation would’ve been one-sided, because Tessa had never understood Doug’s business speak. The diamond choker around her neck would’ve probably been a guilt gift he’d given her after one of his affairs. And the wine would’ve been her attempt at getting in the mood for the lackluster sex they’d have later that night.
She didn’t miss this world.
And she didn’t miss that woman.
“Hello, ladies, do you have a reservation?” the host asked.
Sam stepped forward. “We’re here for the cooking class.”
“Ah, yes,” he said, his smile welcoming. “Follow me. You’ll be in the banquet room.”
The host led them through the main dining area and then through a short hallway and another set of doors. The banquet room looked much like the other side of the restaurant, but the lights weren’t as low and there were tables set up around the perimeter with cooking equipment and little bowls of ingredients. In the center of the room, there were smaller, more intimate tables where they’d presumably eat their meal after learning how to prepare it. Pitchers of sangria gleamed ruby red on each table. A number of people were already sitting at the small tables, mingling and drinking. The tinkling sounds of nervous first-date laughter mixed in with the music.
Tessa’s stomach did a flip, and she almost turned to leave. Sam put a hand on Tessa’s arm, as if reading her unspoken intention, and guided her forward. “Don’t chicken out now.”
A man with a clipboard near the entrance grinned brightly. “Welcome to the meet-up ladies. I’m Jim, your event liaison for the night. Names?”
“I’m Samantha Dunbar, and this is Tessa McAllen.”
Jim scanned the clipboard, nodding. “Ms. Dunbar, your perfect match is Cory Heath, table five. He’s already here if you’d like to head over and say hi. We’re letting everyone chat and enjoy their drinks for a few minutes before the class starts. Break the ice, you know?”
“Sure,” Sam said, peeking over at the dark-haired guy at table five, scanning him from head to loafer. “Sounds good.”
But Tessa’s brain snagged. “Wait a second. I thought we were just mingling with everyone?”
Jim smiled. “Oh, no, ma’am. Perfect Match is full-service. We took the profile you sent us and matched you up with someone compatible for the evening. No use wasting time on people you have nothing in common with, right?”
“The profile I sent in?” Tessa asked, shooting daggers at Sam.
Sam sent her a please-don’t-kill-me look and gave Tessa’s hand a squeeze. “Just try to have a good time, okay? I promise, it’s no big deal. It’ll be fun.”
With that, Sam hurried off toward her “perfect match.” Tessa had to fight hard not to lose it right there. Not only was she going to have to manage a date with a stranger but said stranger would also be under the impression that they’d been matched together. And God only knew what Sam had put in Tessa’s profile. She cringed at the thought.
Jim was scanning his list again, and Tessa smoothed the front of her dress. She hadn’t thought to put much effort into her outfit tonight. This was supposed to be a cooking class after all. So she’d simply stayed in the black wrap dress she’d worn to work. But now she felt plain and out of place. Everyone else had put on their A-game ensemble for date night.
God, why was she even worrying about it? This isn’t a real date. She’d been trained by Doug to look her best at all times, because you never knew who you’d run into, and sometimes that old urge was hard to shake. But she wasn’t here to impress anyone. She was here to drink sangria and to learn how to cook. That’s it.
The door opened behind her as more people came in.
“Ms. McAllen?” Jim asked, a small frown curving his thin lips as he lifted his gaze from the clipboard. “Do you have your confirmation number with you? You’re not showing on my list.”
“My what?” She automatically put her hand on her purse, but knew she had nothing of the sort in there. “No. My friend set all this up for us both.”
“Hmm.” Jim tapped his pencil on the clipboard. “Well, I’m not showing you on here, which means we don’t have confirmation of your payment. If you’d like to pay the fee now, we can let you stay for the class. Then if you find your confirmation, we’ll refund you. But since you weren’t on the list, we won’t have a match set up for you. You’d just be staying for the cooking portion unless we have any other walk-ins.”
No match sounded like a fantastic idea. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise. “How much is it?”
“Two hundred dollars.”
A gasp escaped her lips. Two hundred dollars? She should’ve expected it, but the number still caught her off guard. And it was a number she couldn’t fund. “I’m sorry. I’ll just have to find out what happened to my original fee and do this another time. Maybe I can talk to my friend and see if she has the information.”
He smiled kindly, but she saw it in his eyes. He knew she was bailing because she didn’t have the money. “Of course.”
Shame tried to edge in, heating her cheeks. But she swallowed it back. She would not get teary over miss
ing some stupid cooking class. She took a step to head toward Sam’s table, hoping that even though they were technically party crashers, her friend had some magical confirmation number. But before she could move forward, a warm hand touched her elbow.
“I’ll cover the fee.”
The rich timbre of the man’s voice rolled over Tessa like sun-heated ocean water. She stiffened at the contact and her body’s unexpected visceral reaction. She spun around, her gaze going up, up, up, and finally colliding with clear blue eyes and a face made for Greek sculpture. Her brain forgot to form words.
“I’d hate for you to miss one of the best meals of your life because of a computer glitch,” the man said, a ghost of a smile touching his lips.
Tessa simply stared back. The way he held her gaze had her thoughts scattering and her brain reaching for some memory she couldn’t quite grab ahold of. She shook her head, breaking the gaze and trying to clear her head. No. This stranger was offering to pay two hundred dollars for her to eat. She knew how that worked. She’d played that game before. “Really, that’s very kind of you to offer. But I’ll just come back another time.”
He pulled his wallet from his pocket, pulled two crisp bills from it, and handed it to Jim. “I insist. And it’s no problem. I’m sure they’ll pay me back when they find your original reservation.”
Tessa shook her head again, even though her mind was already fast-forwarding and picturing how decadent it would be to sit and sip sangrias with this stranger. But she couldn’t fall into her old habits and let him pay her way. It didn’t matter that he was gorgeous or that he didn’t seem to mind or that he was wearing a watch that said two hundred dollars was a drop in the bucket for him. “I’m sorry. I can’t take your money.”
Before the stranger could protest, she moved past him and the few people waiting behind them to head for the door. She needed to get out—now. She knew it was ridiculous, but she had the sudden urge to cry, to scream, to pound on something. All she’d wanted tonight was to relax and have a fun girl’s night with Sam. Instead, she’d been reminded of the life she used to have, how feeble her bank account was now, and how fucked-up she was when it came to men.