A Better Reason to Fall in Love

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  The crowd roared with approval as the band ended the song.

  “Thank you,” Jagger said. “Thank you very much.” Then pointing to Tabby once more, he added, “Miss Tabitha Flanders, ladies and gentlemen…my muse for the evening.”

  Jagger looked down at Tabby as the crowd cheered, winked, and added, “She’s a good sport, isn’t she?”

  “And bone sexy!” the bass player shouted from Jagger’s right.

  For a moment, Tabby thought her face might literally explode. She’d never blushed so hard in all her life. Yet, at the same time, the pure elation churning inside her was nothing short of euphoric. Not only had Jagger Brodie sung about her, he’d sung about her in a very flattering manner! As she sat listening to the band begin to play a song Jagger had announced was entitled “Southern Blues,” she couldn’t believe how he’d detailed her outfit—how he must’ve noticed the color of her eyes at some point.

  For a fleeting moment she thought, Maybe I should pursue him. Maybe I would have a chance. Still, such thoughts were squelched as she glanced around the room to see the other women in it staring at Jagger with expressions of nothing less than being entirely seduced.

  “I thought you said you only bumped into him,” Emmy whispered.

  “I did,” Tabby mouthed. She could feel the eyes of some of the other patrons on the back of her head.

  “Must’ve been some bump,” Emmy teased.

  Jagger ventured a glance to Tabitha Flanders. She looked as if she’d weathered the attention all right. Still, he wasn’t sure whether it had been too much for her. He’d ease off for the rest of the night. He didn’t want to entirely freak her out. He couldn’t help but wish he could read her better. She practically ignored him at work, unless he forced her into acknowledging him somehow—at the vending machine or when an ad needed tweaking. He couldn’t tell whether she liked him or whether he grossed her out. Still, the mystery about her—it was one thing that intrigued him where the little redheaded graphic designer was concerned. He’d always sensed there was a lot more to Tabitha Flanders than she allowed the world to see at work. In truth, the fact that she was even sitting there listening to live music, the fact that she was wearing a tiger-print shirt, proved to him his suspicions had been correct. Still, he didn’t want to scare her off, so he’d ease back a bit—for now.

  “Believe me, Tabs,” Emmy whispered, “one day I really will walk into the break room to see you making out with Jagger the Derrière-inator Brodie.”

  “In my dreams, maybe,” Tabby said.

  Still, she couldn’t help but smile. His version of “singing the blues” had literally been one of the most exciting, delicious moments of her entire life. She’d never be able to look at him dressed in his professional business suit and red power ties without thinking he was like a superhero—that all she’d have to do was take hold of the front of his shirt, rip it open, and reveal the alluring, flirtatious blues singer and guitarist beneath.

  “In my dreams,” she whispered again.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Monday morning rose cloudy and cold. Spring had only just begun to arrive, yet now it looked as if one more round of rotten weather was in store. As Tabby pulled into the downtown parking garage, she wished she had just called in sick. After all, it wouldn’t have been a lie because if there was going to be a snowstorm—if a late spring blizzard really was going to hit the city and Tabby ended up stuck at the office—then she really would be sick! It was something very few people in the entire world knew about—Tabby’s extreme phobia of driving in snow and ice. In fact, only her parents and Chloe knew about it. Even her brothers didn’t know. She’d kept it a secret because she’d never wanted to be teased mercilessly about it—and Rick and Craig would’ve teased her, mercilessly. Still, the fact remained that Tabby was literally phobic about driving in snowstorms, and as she pulled into her office parking space, she wished she would’ve called in sick.

  Trepidation and anxiety dominated her thoughts. In fact, her worries about the storm were so great, they’d momentarily pushed her lingering delight over Jagger Brodie’s attentions Friday night to the back of her mind. Yet Jagger Brodie was the reason Tabby hadn’t called in or taken a personal day in the first place. She had to see him—she just had to. Naturally, she wanted to see Jagger Brodie every day, especially every workday when the possibility of seeing him was actually conceivable. But after Friday night—after she’d watched him perform, listened to him sing, and spoken with him—after he’d sung the blues about her, playfully claiming she was his muse—she just had to see him, even if a blizzard was expected to hit the city. All weekend, she’d listened to the Jagger Brodie CDs she’d purchased and daydreamed over the hours spent at Sweet Genevieve’s listening to him—watching him, gazing at him, being insatiably drawn to him. All weekend, she’d looked forward to Monday so she could go to work and catch even a glimpse of him again. She had to see him—she just had to! Besides, the forecast was only dead-on about fifty percent of the time anyway. Surely the expected storm wouldn’t be as severe as the National Weather Service was predicting. After all, it was April already.

  Tabby locked her car and turned to head toward the elevator. She paused, glancing to the black Volvo parked nearby—Jagger Brodie’s Volvo. Oddly, in that moment she wondered what the inside of his car smelled like. It seemed people’s cars had very individual scents, and she wondered what Jagger’s was.

  Inhaling a calming breath, Tabby smiled. Seeing Jagger Brodie would be worth risking the storm—it would. She thought for a moment that seeing him again, even for a moment, would be worth anything.

  She glanced over her shoulder to the weather outside the parking garage. No snow—not one flake. She silently assured herself everything would be fine.

  The office was buzzing when Tabby arrived. No doubt the predicted storm had everyone a little wound up.

  “I have so much to tell you guys at lunch,” Naomi whispered as she passed Tabby’s desk. Naomi’s smile was so wide and bright that Tabby assumed the dashing Professor Lowery had shown the rather edgy Naomi a fabulous time.

  “Did he kiss you?” Emmy asked, suddenly stepping up behind Tabby.

  “I’ll tell you at lunch,” Naomi giggled in a whisper—actually giggled. She hurried off, and Tabby and Emmy exchanged astonished looks.

  “You know…it’s weird, but somehow I have an easier time imagining the professor kissing Naomi than I do imagining Naomi kissing…well…any man,” Emmy whispered.

  “Me too,” Tabby agreed.

  “Just so you guys know,” Jocelyn whispered, pausing on her way to her own desk, “I think I’m going to marry Armando.”

  “What?” Emmy and Tabby gasped in unison.

  “Joss…you’ve known him a week,” Emmy reminded.

  But Jocelyn smiled. “I know. But I really do think I’m going to marry him…someday.”

  Jocelyn started to walk away, but Tabby caught hold of her arm.

  “Joss…are you serious?” she asked.

  Jocelyn shrugged, smiled, and then nodded. “It’s like…it’s like my soul is breathing him or something,” she whispered. “I’ll tell you more at lunch. But don’t worry too much, girls. I just spoke my thoughts out loud. It’s not like he asked me or that we even talked about it. I just thought I’d mention it.”

  “Yeah,” Emmy breathed, rolling her eyes. “So now we’ll get nothing accomplished because we’ll be so preoccupied with curiosity.”

  “At least you’ll be looking forward to lunch, right?” Jocelyn teased as she walked away.

  “I feel sort of, like…left out,” Emmy sighed. “I mean, Naomi’s making out with some college professor—which sounds totally scandalous when you say it that way—and Joss is planning to marry her restaurant-owning cliff diver.”

  Tabby smiled and reminded, “And you have Luke, who will probably propose the minute he gets off the plane.”

  Emmy smiled. “I hope so,” she said.

  “I’m the one who’s
left out,” Tabby said. She wasn’t trying to be pitiful—just trying to cheer up Emmy.

  “Oh, sure,” Emmy teased, though her countenance had brightened at the mention of Luke. “You’re left out…left out with Jagger Brodie singing songs about you.”

  “He was just teasing,” Tabby said. “It’s obvious he’s mischievous…way flirty.”

  “With you maybe,” Emmy said. “But I don’t see him singing about any of the rest of us.”

  Tabby smiled, trying not to feel too giddy. “We didn’t hear who he sang about Saturday night. Maybe it’s his gimmick…to pick some random chick out of the audience and flatter her by singing the blues about her.”

  “Yeah, right,” Emmy said.

  “Good morning, ladies.”

  Tabby gulped as she turned to see Jagger Brodie sauntering past her and Emmy.

  “Good morning, Mr. Brodie,” Emmy greeted in response.

  “Hi,” was all Tabby could manage.

  He nodded and kept walking toward his office.

  “See?” Tabby whispered once he’d closed his office door. “It was nothing.”

  She felt entirely defeated—suddenly drained of all joy and energy. The events at Sweet Genevieve’s Friday night had meant nothing. All weekend long she’d hoped they had meant something—that maybe Jagger’s attention to her at Sweet Genevieve’s had been a hint he’d been crushing on her from a distance the way she’d been crushing on him. Yet now—now she knew the truth: it had all been just a part of the moment. Otherwise, he would’ve said more than good morning—wouldn’t he?

  “Oh, I know that look,” Emmy said. “Don’t, Tabby,” she scolded. “We’re at work. He can’t very well bust into a song about you right here, now can he?”

  “No…I guess not,” Tabby admitted. She thought about her own analogy—that Jagger was like a superhero with a secret identity. He couldn’t just swagger in dressed like a trendy model, belting songs and ripping up the room with guitar licks. After all, even she was more reserved at work—dressed more conservatively in a simple brown skirt and ivory blouse, instead of skinny jeans and a tiger print.

  Making the mistake of glancing out the window then, Tabby mumbled, “Oh, no!”

  “What?” Emmy asked, following the direction of Tabby’s gaze.

  “It’s snowing,” Tabby whined. And indeed it was snowing. Large, soft, fluffy-looking flakes of snow were drifting down past the windows.

  “Oh, man,” Emmy whined. “I’m so sick of winter.” She shrugged, however, and added, “But, oh well. I guess we’ll just have to have lunch indoors again today.” Emmy smiled, added a “See ya,” and hurried to her own desk.

  Tabby, however, had already begun to shudder with anxiety. She knew she’d never get any work done. All she’d be able to do is sit and watch the snow fall—wait to see if it grew heavier and if the wind started to blow. She considered hurrying out to the parking garage and leaving—driving home before it got any worse and she couldn’t make herself do it.

  “Hey, Tabby.”

  Tabby tried to swallow her apprehension as she looked up to see Jagger Brodie striding toward her. Something about the sight of him—the mere sight of him, just knowing he was in the office—settled her nerves a little. He was smiling as he approached—smiling at her.

  “This ad is perfect now,” he said, handing Tabby a printed copy of the ad she’d tweaked on Friday. “I’ve signed off on it, so just finalize it and send it to advertising, okay?”

  “Okay. Thanks,” Tabby managed.

  He started to turn around—began to leave—but he paused. She saw his handsome brow pucker a little.

  “You all right?” he asked. “You seem a little less vivacious than usual.”

  Tabby couldn’t help but smile. “Vivacious?” she giggled.

  “Yeah,” he said, shrugging broad, strong shoulders.

  “I…I just don’t like the snow,” she said. It was the truth, after all.

  “Me neither,” he said. “Not in April anyway.”

  “Exactly,” Tabby sighed.

  “Well, thanks for fixing that ad,” he said, smiling at her.

  “You’re welcome.”

  He sauntered back to his office, pausing to talk to David Lowery on the way.

  Tabby’s smile faded. He hadn’t mentioned seeing her at Sweet Genevieve’s Friday—hadn’t ripped open his shirt to reveal the flirty blues singer—hadn’t pulled her into his arms and kissed her right on the mouth. Tabby rolled her eyes, embarrassed at having spent so much time daydreaming about Jagger Brodie over the weekend.

  Glancing out the window once more, she swallowed the lump of terror gathering in her throat. The snow was getting heavier. She’d missed her moment of being able to leave and get home before it got worse. She sighed, exhaling a heavy breath of stress. There was nothing to do now but wait. Maybe it would blow through before five. Maybe it wouldn’t get any worse. And even if it did, she had come prepared. She’d stayed at the office overnight before—several times, in fact. She guessed once more wouldn’t kill her.

  ❦

  Apparently, Professor Anthony Lowery was quite the romantic. Though Tabby was thoroughly distracted by the fact the snow was falling heavier, the wind blowing more fiercely, she listened as Naomi recounted her evening with the professor. He had taken her to dinner. Afterward, they’d taken a long, moonlit walk through the park near Naomi’s house. For hours, they had talked and taken turns reciting excerpts of their favorite poems—even paused to buy an ice cream cone from a park vendor. To Naomi, it had been the stuff of dreams! Furthermore, Professor Lowery had called her two or three times each day since. Naomi was head-over-heels beyond merely crushing on the professor—that was sorely obvious. It was smugly satisfying, for Naomi had always been the cynic of the group, the girl too practical-minded to believe there was anything to romance or that love could turn a girl’s knees to jelly—as well as her mind. Tabby was glad to see Naomi’s heart was softening.

  Jocelyn’s story was even more astounding. She kept insisting that she was in love with Armando—after little more than a week, she was entirely in love with him. She professed to feeling safe with him and said that when they shared conversation, it was as if she’d never owned such a true friend before—such a true kindred spirit.

  “My dad says I need a better reason to fall in love,” Jocelyn said. “He says there’s no way I can already love Armando…but I do.”

  “Well, I’m certainly not going to buck you on it,” Emmy said. “Look at me. I’ve seen Luke three times. In our entire lives, we’ve been together three times. But we’ve written about things I don’t think most people ever talk about…truly gotten to know each other. When he calls me, just the sound of his voice assures me everything will be wonderful for us when he gets back.”

  “Maybe both of you need a better reason to fall in love,” Naomi said.

  “What?” Jocelyn retorted.

  Tabby could see the hurt on Jocelyn’s face.

  “Who are you to be talking, Naomi?” Emmy asked. “You’re all flipped out on some guy just because you admire his poetry.”

  “But I don’t profess to be in love with him,” Naomi reminded them. “I enjoy his company, more than I’ve enjoyed any other man’s. But how could I possibly know whether or not I could fall in love with him?”

  “You’re just scared,” Tabby said, gazing out the window at the snow. She was scared—in that moment, she was scared of the snow, terrified of having to drive home in it. She’d made the decision long before lunch that she wouldn’t drive home in it.

  Tabby looked to Naomi and continued, “You’re very logical, Naomi. To you, the idea of falling in love in itself is hard to wrap your mind around. So you can’t imagine how Emmy or Jocelyn can possibly know…how they can possibly be in love with men they’ve only just begun dating. Haven’t you been listening to them all along, Naomi? Weren’t you listening before they ever met Luke or Armando?”

  “What do you mean? Of course, I al
ways listen,” Naomi said, rather defensively.

  “Then you should remember that Emmy and Joss both knew what they were looking for long before Luke approached Emmy at her brother’s party…long before Armando told Joss he thought he was going to love her that first day at the Acapulco. They recognized something in Luke and Armando right away because they knew what they needed…who would be best for them.” Tabby paused, smiling at Naomi with understanding. “That’s why you’re scared—because the professor is what you need, because you think he’s what’s best for you…and you want him.”

  Naomi’s eyes narrowed, but Tabby didn’t miss the excess moisture in them. “I don’t know that. I’ve only just met him.”

  “Maybe you don’t know,” Tabby said, sensing Naomi’s feathers were getting a little too ruffled at being so easily recognized. “But that doesn’t mean Emmy and Jocelyn don’t. Everyone’s different, Naomi. Everyone’s life is different. Everyone’s story of how they met their husband or wife…or even their good friends…everyone’s story is different. And, anything’s possible. Anything can happen. I really believe that.”

  “Well, don’t take this as offensively as it sounds,” Naomi began, “but I don’t see you taking any risks where relationships are concerned, Tabby.” Naomi wasn’t being cruel—just explaining her own observations as bluntly as she always did.