The Perfect Ten Boxed Set

by Dianna Love

  Ro tilted her head. “Didn’t say that. I’m saying you need to be aware of what you’re risking. Most people don’t get an inferno of passion and the security.”

  A snaking feeling curled inside and whispered that she and Ro were about to discuss something they, unbelievably, had never explored. “Did you?”

  Please say yes. Let me believe in happily ever after.

  Ro smiled and it was one of those smiles that carried the edge of regret. “Not at the same time.”

  Lucie took a tiny step back.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Ro said. “Tommy is the guy I want to spend my life with. He’s a man I know I can come home to and he’ll take care of me. He’ll be kind and respectful and that’s what I need. At some point, the security became more important than the constant adrenaline rush. The adrenaline guy tore me to shreds, and I’d had enough of that.”

  Lucie must have been brain-fried, because for the life of her, she couldn’t think of a damn thing to say. There had been a lot of men in Ro’s life, and Lucie flipped through her mental file trying to determine who the shredder was.

  “You chose security?”

  “Yep. And I don’t regret it. Not for one second. I’m happy with good sex and stability. It beats off-the-charts sex and no stability.”

  The damn mental file in Lucie’s head was empty. Not even a hint. “Who shredded you?”

  Ro glanced toward the house. Probably checking on Joey Big Ears. “I never told you.”

  No. And Lucie couldn’t believe it. Weren’t they best friends? She thought so, and the ache in her chest couldn’t be ignored. Why the secrets?

  “I had good reason.”

  “What was it?”

  Ro shifted her gaze to it before blowing out a breath.

  God, please don’t let it be Frankie. If it was Frankie, Lucie would…she’d…she’d…hell, she didn’t know what she’d do, but vomiting could be at the top of the list. Right below that would be pulling a Lorena Bobbitt on Frankie and tearing out Ro’s hair. Brutal punishment. For both of them.

  “Joey,” the soon-to-be-hairless one said.

  Tension left Lucie like a blown tire. Thank you. “My brother Joey?” Lucie’s gaze shot to the front door. No sign of her brother. Good. She might have to kill him.

  Ro stared up at the sky, ran her gloved hand down the long column of her neck and breathed deep. Ro looking wistful. Over Joey. Go figure.

  “Yep. You were in graduate school. We were together for all of two months. It was two months of exquisite torture.”

  “What happened?”

  “Insanity is what happened. We got together one night. Every night after that became a mad rush to get into bed. He’d show up, we’d find a place to go, have crazy hot sex and do it all over again the next day. After eight weeks, I needed more. I wanted to go to the movies or to dinner, and all he wanted was to hang out with his friends.”

  “That shithead.” Lucie’s voice was louder than she’d anticipated and she slapped her hand over her mouth.

  Ro laughed. “Nah. He cared about me. I saw it in how affectionate he was. Even when the sex was a little adventurous, there was always trust. But that can’t sustain a relationship. I needed more. I needed him to grow up. Not right then, but eventually, and I was smart enough to know that Joey would always be a wildcard.” She stared back at the house.

  Joey and Ro? Adventurous sex? Definite ick factor. And yet, her obnoxious brother kept this from her. From everyone, really, otherwise Lucie would have heard about it.

  “And I was right. Can you picture me married to your brother? One of us would be dead.”

  Igniting Lucie’s temper had become a favorite pastime for Joey, but he had never once made a crude remark about her best friend. “Wow.”

  “Don’t be mad, Luce. Joey and I were okay with it, and when you came home, we didn’t want anything to change. It nearly killed me for a while because every time I came over, all I wanted was to curl into that big body of his. My heart was gutted.”

  Gutted.

  Joey? Ick.

  “And then you met Tommy?”

  Ro smiled at the mention of her husband. “Yep. He saved me. He’s everything I wanted Joey to be, but without the drama. I wouldn’t change anything. That’s me though. You have to know what you want. If Frankie is the hot sex guy and the stability guy, then you’ve hit the mother of all jackpots.”

  Doubting that was a waste of time. Frankie affected her in ways she’d never experienced. She thought about the implosion inside when his hands slid over her skin, or when he talked dirty in her ear. The idea of that happening with anyone else seemed impossible. She didn’t want it with anyone else.

  But they needed different things.

  Lucie glanced at the row of houses packed into the block and the cars parked bumper-to-bumper on the street. Two houses down, Mrs. Frasier had put her garbage can in the vacant spot to save it for her son, who worked odd hours, and nobody had moved it. This neighborhood had a flow to it, an unspoken set of rules no one dared to break.

  Frankie wanted this neighborhood. She didn’t.

  “I can’t let go of him,” Lucie said.

  “If it’s because you love him, then it’s a start. But don’t hang on to him because it’s comfortable. You both deserve better.”

  “It’s more than comfort. When I think about my life in five years, I’m with him. I just don’t know how to get there.”

  “Maybe you should stop thinking and just let it be.”

  Could she do that? Not chart out her life? All she’d done for the past ten years was set a course and follow it. She had wanted a respectable job—got that—and to get out of Franklin—got that. And yet, years later, all that planning had simply returned her to the place she’d started.

  She closed her eyes and absorbed the fact that planning wouldn’t guarantee her what she wanted.

  “Luce,” Ro finally said. “Give yourself a break and stop analyzing. Let’s get you some smoking hot clothes and drive Frankie crazy.”

  An already shaky budget flashed into Lucie’s mind. “I can’t spend a lot.”

  “We’ll go see a friend of mine. He’ll give us a good price.”

  “His stuff didn’t fall off the truck, did it?” All she needed was a stolen dress to go with the diamond.

  Ro shrugged. “I don’t think so, but you never know.”

  Dealing with anything stolen would put Lucie over the edge and she didn’t want to risk it. “After the trunk show, let’s go to Macy’s. We’ll find something there.”

  ***

  The ride downtown to Sammy Spaniel took longer than they had hoped and a steady drip of sweat wormed along Lucie’s spine. Damned Kennedy construction. Would it ever stop? Being late on the first day would hardly be a good start to a business relationship. It was so not Lucie’s style.

  They arrived at the store with only fifteen minutes to spare before opening. Thankfully, Jeanette had cleared a corner for them and had already set up a long, rectangular table.

  Ro whipped out a white tablecloth and spread it on the table. The banner with the newly made Coco Barknell logo came next, and she hung it over the front of the table. They had a logo. A cute one with a winking poodle wearing a diamond collar. How incredibly sassy.

  Coco Barknell.

  “You like?” Ro asked.

  Lucie’s throat swelled. “You did great, Ro.”

  “Thanks. I think I’m pretty good at this doggie thing. We’re a good team.”

  “I guess we’ll know after today if we can make this a side business or not.”

  Ro waved her off. “Forget side business. I’m thinking Fortune 500.”

  “That’ll be the day.”

  Ro handed her an empty box. “You’ll see.”

  But Lucie wasn’t sure she wanted to see. As a banker, she wanted to see mergers and acquisitions, initial public offerings and credit facilities. That’s what she wanted to see.

  The two of them worked in tandem w
ith Lucie unloading and Ro artfully arranging the coats, collars and leashes on the table. Ro had even picked up steel necklace stands to display some of the collars. A nice touch.

  By the time they were done, an inviting array of collars and coats had been arranged on the table. Lucie smiled at Ro and their eyes met for a few seconds. They might actually pull this off.

  “What do you think?” Lucie asked.

  “I think it’s amazing.”

  Lucie leaned closer and whispered. “You checked all these stones, right? None of them are real?”

  “All checked. We’re good.”

  That was positive news. So far, they’d checked all the stones in Lucie’s stash, plus the items she had collected from her clients. No diamonds.

  Jeanette, in what Lucie had come to realize were trademark second-skin jeans, chose that moment to wander by. Ro gave her a long once-over. Jeanette returned the favor.

  “How are we doing, ladies?” Jeanette asked after she and Ro finished mentally dissecting each other.

  “We’re ready,” Lucie said.

  After a quick perusal of the table, Jeanette picked up a coat to study the stitching. “I must say, these are exceptional. You’re an excellent seamstress.”

  “My mother did that one. And yes, she is an excellent seamstress.”

  The bells on the entry door jangled, and a woman with a droopy-lidded dog came in. The dog had a few—more like ten—extra pounds on him, and Lucie felt sure they had nothing that would fit him. Shoot. Mental note: plus-sized dog coats.

  The woman stopped at the table and Ro dove in, letting her know they custom made all the pieces and, yes, of course, they could make something for Muffy. Muffy? Frankie would have a heart attack over the injustice of naming that dog Muffy.

  The bells jangled again and Lucie, letting Ro handle Muffy the fluffy, turned to see the Falcones and Jimmy Two-Toes entering the store. Good God.

  She planted a big-butt smile on her face and wandered over. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Falcone.” She never called them by their first names like Frankie did with her parents. She didn’t have that comfort level and wasn’t sure she minded. “Hi, Jimmy.”

  “Hello, Lucie,” Mrs. Falcone said. “Frankie told us about your trunk show and we thought we would offer our support.”

  Mr. Falcone waved toward the table. “Giovanna, look at this stuff. Unbelievable.”

  “Ho!” Jimmy said. “You got talent, kid.”

  Frankie’s mom nodded. “These collars are wonderful. The craftsmanship is lovely.”

  “Welcome,” Jeanette said, making a beeline for her potential customers. Frankie’s father turned, and his eyes went straight for Jeanette’s chest. The apple didn’t fall far from this tree.

  Mrs. Falcone’s instincts must have roared to the front of her brain because she pressed her lips together and turned her attention to a zebra print coat. Mr. Falcone though, he wasn’t going anywhere. Neither was Jimmy. Jimmy looked as if he wanted to plow head first into Jeanette’s cleavage.

  “This emerald collar is lovely.” Mrs. Falcone pretended to ignore her husband and his sudden interest in Jeanette, but Lucie knew better.

  “Thank you. Roseanne helped me with that one. She has a flair for this.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  Lucie gasped. “You don’t have a dog.”

  Mrs. Falcone’s eyes zeroed in on her husband, who reluctantly released his gaze from Jeanette’s chest when she went toward the back of the store with Jimmy. “I’ll take the emerald and the sapphire one. I’ll give them to my girlfriends for their dogs.”

  Hell’s bells. That was two hundred and fifty dollars’ worth of collars for a woman who didn’t own a dog. This was about pissing off Mr. Falcone. He’d humiliated his wife by becoming enamored with Jeanette’s boobs. Now he would pay. Literally.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Falcone. This is most generous of you.”

  “We’re practically family.” She grabbed a few business cards. “I’ll take a couple of your cards to put with the collars. My friends may want more and I’d rather they work directly with you.”

  Meaning Jeanette wouldn’t get one red cent. “Certainly. I’d be happy to design something for them.”

  Frankie’s father stepped up and his wife shoved the collars into his chest. “Pay for these.”

  With that, she left the store.

  Rather than send Mr. Falcone back into Jeanette’s vortex, Lucie took the collars from him. “I’ll get these rung up for you. Cash or credit?”

  “How much are they?”

  “A hundred twenty-five each.”

  His jaw flopped open. Served him right. He pulled a money clip from his pocket and peeled off three hundred-dollar bills.

  After ringing up the merchandise, Lucie returned to Mr. Falcone and found him eyeing a couple of coats.

  “These are something else, Lucie.”

  He set the coats down and took the bag from her. “Thank you. I appreciate the purchase.”

  “Happy to do it.” He took a final long look at the table.

  “Is there something else I can show you?”

  He laughed. “Nah. If I didn’t see my wife buy this stuff, I wouldn’t have believed people spend this much on dogs. Good for you.” Turning toward the back of the store, he yelled, “Jimmy, we’re going.”

  Jimmy shot from behind a shelf loaded with dog food and scurried by her.

  “Take care, Lucie.”

  Ro stepped behind the table and adjusted the coats Mr. Falcone had moved. “That was interesting,”

  “No kidding.”

  “I snuck back to where Jimmy and Jeanette were. They’re having dinner together Sunday night.”

  “You snooped?”

  “Sure. Did you know she lives above the store?”

  “Really?”

  “I heard her tell him. You get to her apartment from the back of the building.”

  “Makes for a short commute, I guess.”

  “Plus, she could always run down here and get Jimmy a snack, dog that he is.”

  Lucie laughed. Why not? Jimmy was a dog. A dirty, rotten one. Putting aside what he did for a living, he had a wife.

  Some women could put up with it. Not Lucie. She would make her own way in the world.

  Chapter Nine

  Lucie questioned her own sanity when Ro came to the Rizzos’ house to do her magic with Lucie’s hair and makeup for the big date. Within minutes of Ro’s arrival, using the force of a bludgeoning, she manipulated Lucie’s shoulder-length hair around barrel-sized plastic rollers. Ah, the suffering of a woman trying to “fluff” her hair.

  Thanks to the portable radio on the shelf above her head, Lucie tapped her foot to Madonna as Ro applied layer upon layer of brown eye shadow in a multitude of hues. Espresso liquid liner came next, along with gobs of jet-black mascara. Lucie tried not to blink as Ro perfected what she called the smokey look.

  Lucie called it a lot of stinking work and hoped it didn’t leave her looking like a crack whore.

  “Let’s get you into the dress and I’ll do your hair. You’re almost there, kiddo.”

  “Glory be. I’m not made for all this primping. Who has this kind of time?”

  “You make the time, babycakes. You think I roll out of bed looking like this?” Ro marched across the hall to Lucie’s bedroom, her head high and her long hair flying behind her.

  Footsteps, or perhaps they were bombs dropping, came from the end of the hallway. Joey emerging from his lair.

  “I need the john.”

  “We’ll be done in ten minutes. If you can’t wait, use the yard.”

  Lucie laughed. Good old Ro knew just how to deal with men.

  A second later, Ro reentered the bathroom. “Here’s the bra. This baby will keep the girls in place.”

  Lucie held the contraption in front of her. “If I can figure out how to put it on.”

  Ro pointed to the straps hanging from the bottom of the bra. “These wrap around your waist. Then this top s
trap buckles around your neck.”

  Lucie focused hard.

  “Forget it. Strip and I’ll put it on you.”

  “Ew. No.” Lucie snatched the bra. “I have an MBA. I can figure it out. Just turn around while I do it.”

  Jeez, this was a lot of work. Frankie had better appreciate it. And if he even thought he was getting her out of this bra once she got it on, he’d better think again.

  Joey’s iron fist smacked against the door, and Lucie and Ro both jumped.

  Ro smacked her open palm against the door. “Don’t make me open this.”

  “Yeah,” Lucie yelled.

  “Five more minutes and I’m busting this door down to take a piss. You can watch if you want.”

  “Won’t that be exciting,” Ro shot back.

  “Five minutes.”

  Lucie, with the contraption of a bra in place, slipped on her robe. “Keep your drawers on. We’re done.”

  She swung the door open and Joey stepped back to let them pass.

  “Finally,” he said.

  Ro blew him a kiss when they marched by.

  “He’s such an idiot,” Lucie said, closing her bedroom door behind them. “But there are times, like when he helps me with the dogs, that he’s so nice. That’s the brother I want. The dog walking one.”

  “And I want to be Angelina Jolie. Let’s not count on either. Time to get you dressed.”

  Ten minutes later, after a toxic level of hairspray had been applied to Lucie’s coif, Ro waved toward the mirror. “Take a look.”

  Lucie rose from the bed, took a second to balance on the high-heeled silver sandals. If she tumbled down the stairs in these stilts, at least she’d have a hairspray crash helmet to absorb the impact.

  She stepped over to the closed door where the full body mirror hung, but didn’t look into it. A sudden fear gripped her. What if after all the shopping and primping, she hated the image? What if Frankie hated it? It would be her luck that her one attempt to be more than plain old Lucie would be a disaster.

  No. This would be good. She reached deep into herself and thought about all the years she and Ro had been friends, and realized Ro wouldn’t let her down.

  “Luce, just look. It’s good. I promise.”

  Lucie glanced up and saw a woman in a red halter dress. A woman whose body she barely recognized and whose hair curled wildly around her face. She grinned at herself, at the woman who had become a man-killer.