Her lips pulled into a pout, Marie disappeared through the doorway. Sarah found where she’d left off editing the historical romance she’d been working on for the past couple of weeks. Her distraction with Wolf and the dream had caused her to take much longer than normal. Luckily,her boss hadn’t kept track of her time. With only a couple of chapters left to finish, she’d be more than happy to move on to another story. Actually, she wished she could write one based on her dream. It surely would be a great seller. Pulling her chair closer to the desk, red pen in hand, she anticipated the traditional happily ever after that every reader loved. If she had her way, her proposed story would end with one, too.
* * *
Sarah tossed her magazine on the sofa cushion next to her and stared at the phone. She considered feigning illness to avoid dinner at Peg’s tonight, but shook her head. There was no way she was leaving the playing field open to her bimbo neighbor. A glance at the clock on the wall showed she had a couple of hours to get ready, and she intended to look her best. Funny, a few months ago, she hardly knew Peg existed, now she’d become a nemesis. An icy shudder raced through Sarah at the thought of losing the bid for Wolf’s affection.
She showered and shampooed her hair. Wrapped in her terry robe, she finished blow drying and styling her long blonde locks, then carefully applied her make-up, making sure not to overdo, rather highlight her high cheekbones and outline her full bow-shaped lips. She’d come to love creating a smoky look with shadows and liner, and satisfied with her reflection, she went to her closet. Now to decide what to wear.
For the longest time, she stood in front of the double-door opening and stared at her wardrobe. If only she had a million dollars, her first chore would be tossing out everything she saw. She hadn’t been in a relationship for five years, since breaking up with Leon, her high school love, so shopping for new clothing hadn’t been high on her agenda--in fact, neither had finding another man. She’d grown happy in her own skin, alone, independent, and content living in her beautiful apartment, going to a job she loved…for the most part, and, until recently, not eager to experience love again. Funny how one night could turn your world upside down.
“Damn that dream.” She stomped her foot and crossed her arms. Had she not ‘met’ Wolf in slumber, would she even have been so affected when he came to the door to borrow sugar? She relaxed her angry stance and sighed. No use asking the old ‘what ifs’ because any answer wouldn’t change what she felt at this very moment. She loved him, no matter how he felt about her, and right now she had to dress to do battle.
Given the season, Sarah selected a scoop-necked dark brown angora sweater and beige slacks that fit perfectly. Standing before the full-length mirror on her wall, she turned sideways and checked her profile. The pants hugged her curvy behind, but not disgustingly as tight as Peg’s had clung to her last week. The sweater showed the ampleness of Sarah’s bosom, and the sexy push-up bra she’d picked made her cleavage more visible--sexy, but not tasteless. She liked what she saw and hoped Wolf would too. Now she’d wait, and despite habitually always being early, she planned to make a late entrance. The least amount of time she had to deal with Peg, the better. At least with Molly there, Wolf wouldn’t be alone with the shrew.
Sarah paced the distance between the bedroom door and the kitchen table, occasionally checking her watch. The proposed time of seven rapidly approached, and she didn’t want dinner to grow cold because of her. Deciding that five minutes after the hour would suffice, she went back into her bedroom and dabbed a little more perfume on her pulse spots. In the bathroom, she checked her hair one last time, making sure the length in front of her shoulders curved inward on both sides. Slipping on her dark brown heels, she checked the time again. Perfect. After renewing her lipstick, she licked her lips and pictured Wolf’s pressed against them. Rolling her eyes, she clucked her tongue against her teeth. That wasn’t likely to happen…especially with Peg around.
Sashaying down the hallway, Sarah stopped outside Peg’s apartment and took a breath before rapping her knuckles against the door. The evening’s hostess answered by throwing the door open wide enough to see Wolf and Molly sitting on the couch with the customary glass of wine. “Oh, there you are.” Peg cooed. “I was just about to call and see if you’d forgotten about tonight.”
Sure you were, Sarah thought, tension creeping into her neck muscles. A quick inconspicuous assessment of Peg’s red jumpsuit pulled Sarah into a slump. The jersey clung to her every curve, and the one-shoulder style made it even more daring. Compared to the competition, Sarah identified her own outfit more with that a pastor’s wife might wear.
She brushed aside her discomfort, pulled her sagging shoulders straighter and smiled. “I’m sorry I’m late. I had some last minute phone calls about the party next week. More positive responses.” Sarah lied about the RSVPs tonight, but she had been receiving constant acceptances. Thinking of her costume eased her present disappointment. Clearly, tonight she wasn’t a standout, but next Saturday would definitely be her time to shine.
Turning, she focused on her neighbors. “Hi guys, sorry to keep you waiting.” Her gaze wandered from Molly to Wolf and locked there. His chiseled chin and sparkling smile filled her with longing…in fact, made her wish they were out on the prairie alone as they had been in her dream.
“So,” Molly’s voice intruded on Sarah’s thoughts, “you’ve gotten a good response to your invitations?”
Sarah yanked her attention from Wolf. “Oh, yes, I think we’ll have a great turn-out. I have my costume, do you?” At the thought of her scanty disguise, her cheeks heated.
“Nate and I have them reserved, but don’t try to weasel any info from me. You won’t know until you see us.” Molly giggled. “My crazy brother came up with the idea, and I was really surprised. I would never have made the same choice in a million years, but actually, I’m quite pleased now that I think about it.”
“You are so not fair, Molly. Now you really have my curiosity running wild, but that‘s okay, I‘m not telling you what I picked either.”
“What are you two chatting about?” Peg insinuated herself into their discussion and handed Sarah a glass of wine.
“Nothing important.” Sarah’s jaw tightened at the way the woman always butted into everything.
“Oh, really? Whatever that ‘nothing’ was had you both quite amused.”
“We were just discussing Sarah’s Halloween party next week and keeping our costumes secret.” Molly smiled at Sarah. “Sounds like a lot of fun.”
“Can a crazy brother chime in?” Wolf stood and crossed to the kitchen counter where he refilled his glass. “I’m starving,” he said as he turned.
“You’re in luck. Dinner is ready, so let’s all move to the table.” Peg gestured to the dining area.
For the first time, Sarah allowed her gaze to wander her neighbor‘s home. Although all the apartments in the building shared an identical floor plan, Peg’s expensive taste wasn’t just reflected in her wardrobe. The linen cloth on the table matched placemats and napkin rings, and the china and silver was definitely much more costly than what Sarah owned. The space didn’t allow for creative arranging of furniture, but Peg either had a decorating knack or enough money to hire a professional. Even the walls bore muted colors rather than the drab beige that coated Sarah’s place. A plush rug beneath the living area coffee table pulled all the tones together and screamed money. Once again, the green-eyed monster reared its ugly head, and Sarah found herself envious…and threatened. If there was any justice, dinner would suck.
Chapter Five
Still in her pajamas, Sarah sat on her couch, hugged her knees and flashed back to last night. Dinner hadn’t sucked. In fact, everything tasted fabulous. The roast beef melted in her mouth, the little bit of sour cream blended into the mashed potatoes made them much richer, and the green beans were freshly grown rather than canned. The pieces of bacon Peg had added were real, and not the imitation bits Sarah often used. Listening to W
olf go on and on about how every bite he took was the best ever, had eventually dulled Sarah’s taste buds. Of course, Peg soaked up each compliment like a sponge, blushing like a school girl and batting her long, full lashes at him.
Sarah clenched her teeth and moaned. There had to be something she could do to outshine the woman. Clearly, it wouldn’t be cooking. Her success in connecting with Wolf seemed to rest in the hands of Wonder Woman.
Plagued by negativity, her mind worked overtime. What if her costume sends the wrong message?
Sarah nibbled her bottom lip and sighed.
At the outward rush of air, her throat felt unusually scratchy. Her first thought blamed jealousy that might have gathered in a lump, but when she swallowed, the uncomfortable feeling didn’t go away. Perhaps she’d slept with her mouth open and breathed in too much air. A good gargle would probably do the trick.
* * *
Thursday arrived, and Sarah shivered at her desk, goose bumps covering her arms, yet she touched her forehead and noted heat radiating from her skin. Gargling hadn’t helped, and now instead of a scratchy throat, swallowing hurt like the dickens. Shaking her head, she denied the obvious. She couldn’t be sick. Her party was just days away and she wasn’t about to admit defeat. Come hell or high water, she was going to have her costume gala and stun Wolf speechless. If she didn’t have so much work to do, she might consider seeing her doctor, but the power of positive thinking was the best remedy at hand. “You’re not sick, you’re not sick, you feel fine, you feel fine,” she chanted. All the while she pictured Wolf’s handsome face for fortification.
A few hours later, after popping a few aspirin, she did feel better. When Marie dropped by and invited her to lunch, Sarah accepted, but only if they went to the corner diner for chicken soup. Whenever she’d been ill as a child, her mother’s poultry porridge, as she called it, had worked like magic. Besides, Sarah needed to discuss something with her best friend.
Bundled in her jacket, with a scarf around her neck, Sarah trudged alongside Marie to the small café around the corner. Every step took added effort because of the blustery wind. The smell of diesel from passing busses mingled with the exhaust from all the taxis, and made the air thick and stinky.
“Are you all right? Marie cast a wary look at her.
“Just cold. Can’t wait to get inside.” Hoarseness crept into her voice.
Just as she answered, Marie held open the door and motioned her in. Sarah slid into the first booth, still shivering yet comforted by the warmth and delicious aromas.
Marie unbuttoned and removed her jacket before sitting. She ran her fingers through her windblown locks. “Boy, I guess fall is really here.” She rubbed her hands together. “Actually, it feels more like winter. I think if we had a storm, we might even see snow.”
“Bite your tongue. We can’t have bad weather this weekend. The party…remember?
“When did we ever get snow before Halloween?” Marie rolled her eyes. “I’m just not used to the weather shift yet. I don’t know which I detest most, the humidity or the frigid air.”
The waitress came and they placed their orders: Sarah her soup, Marie a hamburger and fries. Both requested hot chocolate. As soon as the young lady jotted down their desires and left, Sarah focused on Marie. “I need you to do me a big favor.”
“What?” Marie’s brow wrinkled.
“Can you come early on Saturday and act as the hostess?”
“Why, are you sick? You are, aren’t you? I didn’t think you looked well, and you sound even worse.”
“I’m not sick. I have a little bit of a sore throat, but I’ll be fine by the weekend.” She crossed her fingers underneath the table. “I need you to greet everyone so I can make an entrance in my costume. I don’t want anyone to know who I am, and if I‘m at the door, I’m pretty sure my identity won’t be a big secret.”
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with that guy with an animal’s name, would it?”
“Wolf! Why can’t you remember? It’s really not that hard.”
“Okay, Wolf…but you didn’t answer my question.”
Sarah clucked her tongue against her teeth. “Yes, it does have something to do with Wolf. Actually, everything. If what I’m wearing doesn’t make him howl like the animal you keep referring to, then I’m dead in the water, and Peg Scott wins.”
“Oh, please, Sarah. We’ve discussed this. That trashy bitch in your apartment building can’t hold a candle to you. From your description, she sounds like a cheap hooker and I’m sure…Wolf has better taste than that.”
“I wouldn’t--”
The waitress interrupted the moment to deliver their lunch. Sarah’s throat ached, and she eagerly sipped a spoonful of soup, relishing the pain-soothing warmth. Steam drifted up, carrying the chickeny aroma, as she took another bite, this time letting the noodles effortlessly slide past what she now suspected might be tonsillitis. All her symptoms harkened back to her younger years when that particular illness plagued her. With fingers still crossed on the one hand in her lap, she hoped she was wrong. She lifted her eyes skyward. No, she prayed she was wrong.
“How’s your soup?” Marie asked.
“Delicious. Your burger?”
“Good” She dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “Getting back to our previous conversation. What time should I be there?”
* * *
Sarah stared at the big red X on the calendar. Finally, Saturday, but she wilted beneath the pressure she faced. Pulling her mouth into a frown, she stared at her distant reflection in the bedroom mirror. Was that what Hell looked like? Her hair was a jumbled mass of snarls from all the tossing and turning she did during a feverish night, and even at this distance, the dark rings beneath her eyes indicated exactly how she felt. Today, she was supposed to feel better, but instead, her condition had worsened. She’d barely been able to eat anything since the chicken soup, and she so wanted to curl up and sleep until her illness passed.
Straightening her sagging shoulders, she pretended she didn’t feel like a limp rag. Thoughts of the party, just hours away, provided some revitalization…until she swallowed.
“Hello, I…” She tried out her voice, discovering she sounded even raspier. Trying to find a positive note, the change in tone might help with her disguise…if she didn’t die before the party began. Her shoulders drooped again, and she headed for the bedroom. A little nap might help.
In bed, Sarah set the alarm for two hours, and then snuggled beneath the creamy new sheets she’d recently purchased. How could she even consider thread count at the time like this, she questioned? Still, the silky feel soothed and cooled her heated skin, and sleep beckoned. As she drifted off, a breechclout clad half-breed flashed in her mind. For the first time today, she managed a smile.
* * *
The ringing alarm pierced the silence and yanked Sarah from sleep. She flung her forearm across her brow and moaned. She couldn’t have napped for a full two hours already. Fire burned in her throat and raged beneath her skin. Oh, for another few hours of rest.
Reluctance tugged at her determination to rise. If only she’d made a mistake and today was Friday and not Saturday, but that wasn’t the case. This was the day she’d dreamed of, puzzled over, and schemed about. Sore throat and fever be damned, she was going to transform into Wonder Woman if it killed her.
With her jaw set, she rose, forced herself to straighten the bed, and prepared for her transformation. In the bathroom, she turned on the shower and shrugged out of her pajamas. When she stepped under the warm spray, goose bumps peppered her skin. She cooled the water a bit, hoping to wash away the fever that chilled her. Shivering, she managed to shampoo her hair, wondering how men stood taking cold showers. Of course, they probably weren’t ill when they did.
Her head throbbed when she bent to shave her legs, but sans panty hose these days, she absolutely refused to wear the fish net stockings she found wrapped in her wig. Wonder Woman never looked that trashy. What w
ere the costume people thinking? A little baby oil on her skin would give her the sheen she needed.
Sarah blew dry her hair, feeling somewhat invigorated, not bothering to worry about styling it, since the wig would undo anything she accomplished. She stared at her fluffy locks and wondered how to hide the blonde beneath the black. Recalling a TV show she’d once watched, she remembered seeing some sort of skullcap involved in the process. What could she use? Nylon? She had an old pair of panty hose and a pair of scissors. Time demanded her to be inventive--especially when she’d never given a thought to the problem before right now.
After a little silken surgery, Sarah smiled at her ingenuity, but frowned at her reflection when she pulled the ‘cap’ onto her head and stuffed her hair beneath it. Amazingly enough, the partial panty hose invention flattened her tresses and left her deciding she was definitely thankful she wasn’t a balding man. The image looking back at her was enough to be a frightening disguise all its own. She giggled, and even that hurt her throat. Time for another salt-water gargle and a couple more aspirin.
* * *
Who would have guessed? Wrapped in her towel, Sarah stared into the mirror at the dark-haired woman looking back at her. Even without the rest of the costume, she barely recognized herself. Of course, the wig wasn’t the high quality she hoped for…probably made from a horse’s tail, but the bouffant style definitely changed her appearance. The ends flipped up just past her shoulders, and the coffee color made her blue eyes pop. Thank goodness, she no longer had to look at her previous impression of Mr. Clean.
With her make up done, wig elastic properly adjusted for a good fit, Sarah’s energy level began to wane. She longed to run a cool cloth over her face, but she’d worked hard to conceal the dark circles beneath her eyes and applied just the perfect amount of blush and red lipstick. Why undo what she’d just finished? Instead, she opened the medicine chest and found the aspirin. Instead of her normal two, she poured three into her palm. Three of a kind always beat a pair, but even the small pills lodged in her swollen throat, and the painful gulps of water to wash them down added to her discomfort. She winced at her reflection, as she closed the mirrored door. With only a short time before the party started, she had to feel better.
Sarah's Passion Page 4