Love Online (Truly Yours Digital Editions)

by Nancy Toback

“In retrospect a pathetic, ugly note. I asked him to call me.” Jess unzipped her purse, dug through its contents, and pulled out her cell phone. “And look at the number of unheard messages I have. Zero.”

  A waitress arrived at the table, rail thin and jumpy, pad and pencil poised. “Ready to order?”

  “Burger, well done,” Marilyn said, eyes still round.

  “A cup of chicken soup, please.” Her topsy-turvy stomach pitched in protest.

  “An ugly, pathetic note?” Marilyn rested her cheek against her fist. “Care to elaborate?”

  “Not really, but”—Jess took a sip of iced water and cleared her throat—“it went something like, ‘I hope we’re still best friends. I love you and—’ ”

  “Whoa! Back up!” Marilyn brushed a bouncy curl from her forehead. “I love you?”

  Jess tightened her trembling fingers. “Tom knows what I mean.”

  “Does he?”

  Ignoring the sarcasm, she lifted her chin. “I invited him to dinner at my place on Saturday, with a promise to cook all his favorites.” Jess’s nervous giggle failed to alter her friend’s scowl of disapproval. “You don’t think Tom took it the wrong way, do you?”

  Marilyn fanned herself with a napkin. “Are you sure you want the truth?”

  “Keep in mind that I’ve been leasing my apartment for less than a year. I haven’t had a chance to invite him up for dinner.” Jess sat ramrod straight. Spoken aloud, her claims sounded ridiculous. “Tom’s been inside my apartment—when other friends were there.” She pulled in a breath. “So what do you think?”

  Marilyn shrugged. “That you were afraid to be alone with him?”

  “Ha! You know Tom. He’s the perfect gentleman.” At least when it came to her.

  “I don’t know.” Marilyn sighed. “The first time you see Tom on a real date is the first time you decide to invite him to your place for dinner—alone. He has to think you’re making a play.” She put her hand to her throat. “Or that you’re a jealous maniac. And I’m beginning to think it’s the latter.”

  “Oh, yuk!” Jess said as the waitress set down their plates, then shot her a scathing look. “I didn’t mean yuk about the food.” The woman strode off without acknowledgment. “I’m a mess.”

  Smiling, Marilyn quartered her burger with a knife. “Tom’s going to call, Jess. I’m sure of it.”

  “Right.” And even if he did, where would they go from there? “Tom pinned a flower in his date’s hair. Can you believe that?”

  ❧

  Tom declined Frank’s invitation to lunch. Preferring the solitude of his office, he phoned the deli to have a sandwich brought in and retrieved Jess’s wrinkled note from his pocket.

  Sitting at his desk, he flattened the paper on the blotter. Last night he’d only scanned her letter. And when his head hit the pillow, he thanked the Lord he hadn’t read anything into it.

  Before walking out the door to work this morning, he stuffed the note into his pocket for the sole purpose of reexamining his motives before flat out refusing her offer of dinner at her place.

  Clasping his hands behind his head, Tom pulled in a deep breath. A man with a big ego might interpret her sudden interest as a sign of jealousy. If jealousy had provoked her reckless, uncharacteristic behavior, he’d have no part in it. But if she sincerely wanted to maintain their friendship, how could he refuse? As a man of his word, he intended to keep his promise to Dean to look out for Jess. He just wished she wouldn’t tease him. He had no illusion that Jess’s note meant anything other than she didn’t like seeing him with another woman. Well, he was no saint there. He hadn’t liked seeing her with another man either.

  Tom picked up the phone, turned it over in his hand, and shook his head. If Jess needed him, she knew where to find him. He was through with following her like a puppy at the heel, nipping and hoping for any sign of attention. Life went on. And he must, too, or he’d spend his life alone while he watched Jess keep him at bay.

  Shuffling through his stack of phone messages, he pulled out the one from Linda and dialed her number.

  Nine

  Jess crushed the sofa pillow to her ear and rolled onto her side. Kiwi’s tweets and whistles grew louder.

  Chucking the pillow, she sat upright and looked across the living room at the little green merrymaker. Hopping happily from perch to perch, the parakeet appeared innocent of intruding on her nap. Rehashing her idiotic antics over lunch with Marilyn had left Jess too edgy to sleep.

  Pushing up from the sofa cushions, Jess strode across the room to the cellular phone on the desk. The phone’s glass window told her what she already knew—no new messages. She took a deep breath, cleared her throat, and dialed Tom’s office. Enough of her childish behavior.

  One ring. . .

  She pressed the DISCONNECT button and shook her head. Perhaps she should plan what she wanted to say. Pacing in front of Kiwi’s cage, she stopped and hit REDIAL. There was no good reason to act like a stuttering schoolgirl with Tom.

  One ring. . .

  Jess loosened her grip on the phone, lest she pop its plastic innards.

  Two rings. . .

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Winters’s office.”

  On hearing Fran’s familiar voice, Jess’s mouth formed words without sound.

  “Mr. Winters’s office,” Fran repeated.

  “Oh, Fran, hello, it’s Jessica.”

  “Why, hello, Jessica. I haven’t seen you in quite awhile.” If the middle-aged, prim, and proper assistant suspected trouble brewing between Tom and her, she was too professional to let it creep into her tone.

  “I’ve been working hard, you know.” Jess ran her tongue over her parched lips. “I was just wondering if Tom’s around. But if he’s too busy—”

  “Tom’s in his office. Just a moment. And, please, come visit soon.”

  “Will do.” A jaunty tune replaced Fran’s voice. Jess pressed her hand over her thudding heart. Now what? She dare not ask him why he hadn’t phoned, though he had a nerve.

  “Hi, Jess, what’s up?”

  Tom’s curt greeting drew strength from her legs. “Are you busy?”

  “I’m expecting a client any minute, but—”

  “Sorry.” The roots of her hair tingled with embarrassment. She cleared her throat. “I was just wondering if you got my note. . .if Dora gave you—”

  “Yes, I got it.”

  And? Treading the carpet like a terrified mouse, Jess stopped for a breath. “So can you make it on Saturday?”

  “Really, I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

  He didn’t sound a bit sorry. “Oh, that’s too bad.” Jess slapped her thigh. She could do without the whiny voice. “I guess you’re busy?”

  “Yes, I have plans.”

  “Well, then. . .” Jess resumed pacing. What kind of plans? She’d once had the liberty to ask without giving it a second thought. A deep sadness settled over her. But if she didn’t follow up with a comment, she’d risk being a bigger fool in Tom’s eyes. “So how did your online date work out?”

  “Actually, pretty good. In fact, Linda’s the reason I can’t make it Saturday.”

  Twisting, Jess caught a glimpse of her stunned reflection in the mirror. “A second date then? Good for you.” Her voice broke, betraying her words. Fighting her rising dismay, she pulled in a deep breath. “Can you come for dinner Friday instead? We can catch up on things.”

  “Don’t you work Friday nights?”

  “Usually.” Her face heated. “But I can trade days with Melanie. You know, the new assistant chef.”

  “I see.” Tom’s sigh wafted to her ear, sinking her heart. He wanted a polite way out. But why should she make his departure any easier on him? “I don’t know, Jess. I—”

  “Well, what is it?” She spat the words, hurt suddenly veering to anger. “Do you have plans with Linda tomorrow as well?” Jess clamped her hand over her mouth. She wasn’t a jealous maniac, but she’d done nothing to deserve getting kicked to the curb—for a
stranger.

  “No, I’m not seeing Linda tomorrow night.” The edge in Tom’s voice made her shudder. She had to learn a whole new way of speaking to him, of tiptoeing around certain topics—Linda being one of them.

  Jess pressed her hand to her chest, hoping to still her thudding heart. “Then maybe you can make some time for your friends.” She could get through this. She’d not allow anger to destroy what little remained of what they once had. “This friend in particular?”

  Another sigh. “All right, Jess.”

  If she harbored any spark of hope that they’d return to the way they were, the sound of his resignation extinguished it. Anger sifted out of her, leaving grief in its wake.

  “Jess? What time should I be there?” Tom’s voice was softer now.

  “How about six? Is that good for you?” A shiver of humiliation ran up her spine. The self-conscious words passing between them reeked of formality—a prelude to what would eventually dwindle into a final good-bye, she knew.

  “Six o’clock sounds—just a sec,” Tom said. “My client’s here, but six sounds fine. I’ll see you then.”

  “Yes, I’ll—” The line went dead.

  Jess set down the phone and dropped into the chair beside the oak desk. Smoothing her hand across the cool wood, she looked at the framed photo of her smiling father. “See what happened, Daddy.” A sob lodged in her throat. She pressed her lips into a tight line and swallowed. “Even you couldn’t plan for this. But it’s not your fault.”

  Jess slipped out of the chair, dropped to her knees, and closed her eyes. “Please, Lord, don’t let Tom fall in love with Linda.”

  Sweat tingled on her forehead. “That’s not a valid prayer, is it? If it’s not Linda, it’ll be another woman. I pray for Your perfect will to be done, Lord, not mine. I trust You know what’s best for me.” Tightening her laced fingers, she rocked forward and pressed her head against her hands. “But what if I’ve fallen in love with—”

  Her throat swelled and ached. Jess scrambled to her feet, knocking the porcelain sailboat to the rug, pushing the unthinkable from her mind. Even in her dreams, the words were too dangerous to utter.

  Tom had never shown a romantic interest in her. Jess set the knickknack back on the desk. She had to face facts—she just wasn’t Tom’s type. And if she threw herself into his arms—even once—her heart would forever be in his hands. Somehow she’d always known that.

  Jess strode across the room to the sofa, sat down in front of her laptop, and snapped down the keys to sign on to the Internet. She promised herself four more dates. She couldn’t give up on pursuing her dream—not yet.

  Scrolling through her E-mail, she clicked open the first with Love Online in the subject header.

  Dear Loves God (Nice handle),

  I’m fairly new to Internet dating, and though I’ve met an interesting member, your profile captured my curiosity. (For personal reasons, I prefer to date several women until I know where the Lord’s leading.)

  Jess nodded. “Now that’s honest enough.”

  Like you, I’m in my early thirties and live in midtown Manhattan. It seems our similarities outweigh our differences. If after reading my profile you agree, and you’d like to meet me, please send me an E-mail, and we’ll make arrangements.

  Best regards,

  TCTwo

  With trembling hands, Jess hit the REPLY button. “Please, Lord, don’t let this be another Jim.”

  No one could replace Tom, but a couple of dates might help fill the gaping void he’d left in her life. Short of begging, she’d practically had to twist Tom’s arm to get him to agree to dinner.

  Imagine, trying to persuade him to see her as more than a friend? Jess shook her head and typed, Dear TCTwo. . . .

  ❧

  Frank slammed his fist into his palm. “You’re getting suckered right back into it, Pal.”

  “Thanks for looking out for me, but Jess is a friend.” Tom shrugged into his suit jacket. “She’s extending an olive branch, and I can’t turn her down.”

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Frank dropped to the edge of the desk. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “I promise I won’t.” Striding to the door, Tom hit the light switch and turned. “Planning to sit in my office all night?”

  They walked to the elevator in silence. Frank’s shadow felt like a weight on his shoulder—a good angel or a bad angel, he couldn’t decide. Tom pressed the elevator button and leveled a gaze at him. “You really dislike Jess, don’t you?”

  Staring down at the floor, Frank shrugged. “There’s no denying she’s drop-dead gorgeous, but she’s driving you crazy.”

  The words were a punch to his gut. Suspicion hit, turning his insides cold and tightening every muscle in his body. “What? Is it a love-hate thing? Are you interested?”

  Frank’s laugh echoed through the reception area. “Yeah, like I have shot with that. . .princess.”

  Tom’s pulse kicked up. He jammed his foot against the elevator door to hold it open. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means nothing, huh?” Frank slapped him on the shoulder. “Calm down.”

  “I am calm.” Clenching his fists, he pulled in a breath. “What if you did have a shot with Jess? Would you take it?”

  Brushing past him, Frank stepped into the elevator.

  Tom followed, hit the LOBBY button, and slanted him a glance. He’d been confiding in Frank for the past five years. “Forget it. Doesn’t matter one way or the other.”

  Frank ran his hand down his tie and grinned. “I should learn to mind my own business.”

  “Yeah, you should.”

  They both laughed. But Frank hadn’t given him a straight answer.

  Parting company with a handshake, he watched Frank head across the avenue, dodging traffic against the light. There went a guy who loved taking risks. And he loved winning even more.

  Tom hailed a taxi. He could still cancel. If he had a drop of good sense, he’d go straight home.

  Staring at the bearded cabbie in a turban, he gathered a breath and ground out Jess’s address.

  A heap of regrets swelled his heart. Only one woman could cause him to lose it—and he was heading toward her apartment right now.

  Loosening the knot in his tie, Tom slumped against the seat. Acting solely on unfounded suspicion, he’d gone off the deep end, turning FBI agent on Frank, grilling the guy as if he stood between Jess and him.

  Strumming his fingers on his knee, Tom stared out the side window. If Frank did make a play for Jess, she’d never go along with it.

  But what if she did? Tom shook his head. He’d be forced to grin and bear it. Better still, he could accept the transfer to California.

  Tom watched workers streaming out of the office buildings on Fifth Avenue as the blare of car horns assaulted his ears. A change of scenery might do him some good. Out of sight, out of mind. Maybe. . .

  But then there was the other, more dangerous, adage. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

  Tom strode down the long, carpeted hallway toward Jess’s door. He could’ve found his way blindfolded to the heavenly scent of brisket. In the scheme of things, this night would mean a great meal and a few laughs. Nothing more.

  The door opened. Jess’s clear blue gaze locked on his, her smile, her orange-vanilla scent, crashed over him. His thinking mind disengaged. Squaring his shoulders, he fought to recall his convictions.

  “I’m so glad you could make it.”

  Her voice was melting chocolate on his tongue. He uttered something unintelligible and followed her into her apartment. “Thanks for inviting me.” After she closed the door, he handed her the bouquet he’d bought, with much reservation, in the shop beside her building. His visit wasn’t meant to give any false impressions—not even to himself. “They’re not roses, but—”

  “Thank you.” Jess pointed to the sofa. “Have a seat while I put these in water. And dinner will be served in”—she glanced at her watch—�
��precisely five minutes.”

  As he drank in the warmth of her nearness, he made no motion to move. “Sounds good.”

  Jess smiled again. “I’ve missed you.” She placed the flowers on the coffee table behind her. With one step, she closed the gap between them and wrapped her arms around his waist.

  Tensing his arms at his sides, Tom clenched his fists. She couldn’t do this to him anymore.

  Jess rested her head against his chest. Tom closed his eyes, allowing himself to inhale the flowery scent of her hair, even while his mind commanded him to stop.

  Snapping to sanity, Tom stepped back, out of her embrace, lest he bunch her in his arms and never let go. The hurt glittering in her eyes tempted him to apologize. He tried to smile, change the subject. Blind to his attraction, she’d think he’d rejected her as a friend. “I—”

  Jess twisted away and headed toward the kitchen. “I’d better check on the brisket.”

  With his senses spinning, he made his way to the sofa and sat down. Pride cometh before the fall. Guaranteed, he’d never attempt a feat like this again. Another second of her in his arms and—

  And what? Tom stood, raked his fingers through his hair, and scanned the photos on the mantel. “Food smells great, Jess.”

  Only the sounds of clanging pots and pans traveled from the kitchen. Tom closed his eyes. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. He’d never hurt her intentionally. He’d always returned her hugs, but—

  “I made the broccoli and cheese wraps you order in Flavors.”

  “Great.” His gaze traveled around the room. She’d made some changes since his last visit, but the Raggedy Ann and Andy dolls he’d given her still sat side by side on the wooden chest, making his heart clench. She cherished their friendship, and he’d just trampled it. “The place looks great.”

  The pine dining room table, set for two with candles and linen, would’ve once sparked hope in him. But he’d do well to keep in mind that seeing him with Linda had provoked Jess into action. Nothing more. Jess needed to test—to find out if she still held first place in his life.