Bachelorette for Sale

by Gail Chianese

  Dominick smiled for the first time since they’d met him. A real grin going from ear to ear and lighting up his eyes and showing twin dimples.

  “Yay! Hear that, Gramma? I won’t have to go to Mama Jo’s.” Dominick turned back to Cherry and Jason. “Mama Jo is Daddy’s mama. She’s mean and smells and yells a lot. But she don’t work during the day like my mama and gramma. Sometimes she forgets I’m coming and don’t buy no food. They said if the center don’t open I have to go to Mama Jo’s.”

  “We’ll get it open on time for you. I promise.” Cherry meant every word of it too, even if it meant she’d have to do the one thing she said she’d never do again.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sunday afternoon was normally Cherry’s favorite time to stroll down Atwells Avenue, right as businesses opened their doors. The delectable scents of fresh breads, pastries, and gourmet cupcakes—none of which would go past her lips, because if they did they would go straight to her hips—called out to passing shoppers. She could slip into Venda Ravioli to pick up the freshest pasta around (and check out Tawny’s new man). Or have her pick of tables at any of the avenue’s restaurants. But not today.

  Temps in the high seventies with blue skies and fluffy white clouds brought locals and tourists alike to the area. Already lines formed at restaurant doors, sending waitstaff scurrying to accommodate the growing crowds. Jorge’s Cocina was no different. Cherry waited out front for the valet to park Tawny’s Mini Cooper, sighing in envy at her friend’s outfit. Tawny stepped out of the car in killer heels, a bright red pencil skirt, and a canary yellow top that clung to her curves in all the right places, turning every male head in the vicinity. A far cry from Cherry’s loose-fitting jeans and flowing blouse.

  Tawny used her influence to get them seated quickly in a quiet corner ahead of the crowd. While Jorge’s restaurant had the usual Mexican décor, he refused to play mariachi music, stating he didn’t want to be a cliché. Instead the day’s hottest hits played softly from hidden speakers throughout the building, but never loud enough to drown out table conversation, as in many places. He also used high-backed booths and lots of plants to give diners privacy, which she greatly appreciated, especially today. Their hostess, dressed in black capris and a red peasant blouse, the uniform of the day, didn’t even blink when Cherry ordered a strawberry margarita at five past noon.

  It was one of those days.

  “Whoa. Kind of early for you to be hitting the hard stuff, isn’t it? Did you and Jason have a fight?” Tawny asked after putting in her own drink order and snagging a basket of chips and salsa from a passing waiter.

  “No, this isn’t about Jason. Well, it is, but it’s more, it’s everything.” She munched on a chip, wishing for life to be simpler. She hoped lunch with Tawny would put her mind at ease, reassure her she was doing the right thing.

  The waitress dropped off their drinks and said she’d be back in a few for their orders.

  “Spill.”

  “In what order?” Seeing the exasperated look on her friend’s face, Cherry held up her hand. “Fine, let’s start with Jason.”

  “I thought you and Jason were burning up the sheets, in and out of bed. What happened?”

  Cherry took a couple of gulps of her margarita, shaking her head. “Nothing happened. Jason is wonderful, perfect, smoking hot, and he makes me see myself differently, better. We spend all of our time together and there’s all this . . . this chemistry, but how do I know if it’s more than that? How do I know if we’re just killing time with each other or if what we’ve got is the start of a lifetime together?”

  “Have you asked him?” Tawny scooped up a spoonful of salsa like it was candy and as if the question were the easiest thing in the world to ask.

  “Sure, because I want to see how fast he can run in the other direction. I’m not looking to end our relationship, but I’m ready to move my life forward. I just don’t know if he’ll want to be part of it or not.”

  “Won’t know unless you ask.”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  “Not easy, but simple. What else is on your mind?”

  “You mean besides the meaning of life, why does chocolate have to be fattening, and why can’t I look as great as you in that skirt?” Laughing, she brushed her hair back behind her ear and thought about what exactly was bothering her. Facing her fears. Growing. Stagnating. “When you approached me about helping the center, the first thought that went through my head was, what a great way to give back to those who literally saved me, thank them for helping me all those years ago, and do something good for the kids. I met someone, a boy named Dominick, at the tag sale who drove home how important the center is.”

  She told her friend the little guy’s story and Jason’s promise to him. By the time she was done talking, both women had tears in their eyes.

  “So what’s changed?”

  “Me. I’ve changed. Yesterday, after the whole mess with Ford and my grandmother, I was ready to step down from the committee. I figured if I did, the press would leave my family and friends alone. Did you know he questioned your mom?” She didn’t give her friend a chance to respond but could tell by her bland expression, Tawny knew. “Not to mention Jason and I would have a chance to explore a normal relationship. Maybe go on real dates instead of sneaking around. Then I realized there is always going to be a Ford out there looking for dirt, and by hiding I’m just giving him power over my life. I’m the one stopping me and Jason from having a normal life.”

  Tawny signaled for two more drinks. “Wow. That’s a pretty powerful statement. So what are you going to do?”

  “About the committee? I made a commitment and I’ll see it through. About Jason and me, I don’t know yet, but I won’t be hiding anymore.” The waitress delivered their drinks and Cherry ordered two of the day’s specials. At the rate they were sucking down the margaritas, she’d be flat on her face kissing the floor very soon if she didn’t get some food in her.

  “Speaking of committee duties, I didn’t want to say anything yesterday, but the insurance has denied the claim. They’re blaming Jason’s crew. Stan’s making noise to get them fired and says he can get RI Builders to lower their bid. Mr. North let me know before I left work yesterday. We need another gala-sized fund-raiser, and then the center would be set.”

  “Well, there is Love in Shangri-La. They sent me another invitation,” Cherry said.

  “Another? How many times do you need to say no for them to get it? Six, seven? They’re worse than telemarketers. Maybe it’s time to change your phone number and e-mail address.” Tawny looked at her, really looked, then her eyes opened up a little wider and her jaw dropped a hair’s breadth. “You’re thinking of saying yes?” The words came out slow, almost hesitant.

  Cherry nodded. She still couldn’t quite say the words, couldn’t make it off icial . . . yet. Tawny had been the first person she’d shared her idea of appearing on Finding Mr. Right with. They’d even applied and gone on the show together—Tawny had been the smart one and went home on the third episode, thus keeping her life sane. It made sense she’d be the first one Cherry would share this decision with now. The waitress delivered their meals, giving Cherry time to center her mind and emotions.

  “Oh my gawd, you really are going to do it. Have you told Jason yet?”

  Cherry slowly shook her head. “I needed to talk to you first. For you to tell me I’m not crazy.”

  “Uh, girlfriend, I hate to tell you this, but you are crazy. You’ve got a great guy and you’re willing to risk losing him over what? A commitment? The responsibility lands on all of us, not just you.”

  Tawny had a point. Two years ago Cherry had set out on a quest to find love, the happily-ever-after kind, her Prince Charming. Somewhere along the way she’d taken a left at Albuquerque, bypassed the enchanted forest, and landed in the first layer of hell.

  Through a lot of hard work she’d climbed out of purgatory and back to the real world and maybe, just maybe found her Pr
ince Not-Always-Charming-Sometimes-Arrogant-But-Rocks-Her-Socks-Off.

  Why risk it?

  It was an excellent question. Cherry rubbed at her temple trying to gather the words to explain the jumbled mess in her head, not sure if she understood her own logic. “You know what my second thought was when you asked me to join you? Here’s my chance to show the world I wasn’t the horrible person Ari painted me to be.” She took a long sip of her drink. “In retrospect, I sound exactly like that awful woman. Totally self-absorbed.”

  Tawny scooted her chair closer, wrapped an arm around Cherry’s shoulders, and tugged her in for a quick hug. “I think it’s called survival instinct. You were persecuted for months by the tabloids. Looking to see if this project could erase some of their backlash is normal human behavior, and you’re one of the least self-centered people I know.”

  Tawny had always been her rock. Today was no exception. There was more to accepting the offer than she cared to discuss right now, even with her best friend. “Thanks. You have to admit it’d be the fastest way to bring in the money we need.”

  Digging into the now-lukewarm enchiladas the women lapsed into silence as Tawny devoured hers and Cherry made an attempt to eat.

  Tawny asked, “When do you leave for LA?”

  Having a friend who got her was a priceless gift. Tawny might not agree with everything Cherry did or said, but she always stood by her side, ready to fight those who mocked or opposed. Cherry could only hope she’d been gifted twice in her life and Jason would do the same.

  “Probably not for a couple of weeks. They finished shooting Finding Mr. Right two weeks ago, and I only responded this morning to Chris’s e-mail saying I’d think about it.”

  “The host e-mailed you himself? They must want you bad.” Tawny gave her a teasing smile. “What’s your game plan with Jason in regard to the show?” Tawny signaled for the waitress to clear the dishes and asked her to bring a couple of glasses of water over.

  “Honesty. It’s the best policy, after all. They’re offering me a nice enticement to appear, twenty thousand an episode. It’s not like the other spin-off where I have to play games and get the viewers’ votes.”

  “But?”

  “I do have to get asked by one of the guys in order to stay for the next week. If I make it through the first week, the next week the decision is in the women’s hands. So, looking at making at least sixty thousand, which isn’t bad for hanging at the beach for three weeks.” She had to have faith that not all of the former bachelors hated her.

  “What about the dates? There has to be some kind of connection to stay, right?”

  “A problem I haven’t figured out how to solve yet.”

  Jason heard the excited whines coming from Bam in the backyard letting him know Tucker and Cherry had arrived. He wiped his hands on the dishrag, slung it over his shoulder, and headed out to greet them. The steaks were marinating in the fridge, and he’d thrown together a salad and baked a loaf of bread for dinner. At one point he’d thought about trying his hand at baking brownies for dessert, but figured he’d screw them up. If Cherry wanted dessert—something besides him—she’d have to settle for fruit or ice cream.

  Hmm, ice cream. Maybe he should check and see how much chocolate syrup was left. Cherry unhooked Tucker and the two dogs took off at a mad dash around the yard. Several times Cherry had to do a little side-step jig to avoid being mowed down. Laughing, she reached Jason to snuggle into his side while they watched the manic game of tag.

  “I think they’re happy to see each other, although they act like it’s been years when it’s been what, nine hours?”

  “I know how they feel.” Jason settled his lips on Cherry’s, drew her in, inhaling her sweet aroma. “Peaches and strawberries, perfect combination with chocolate.”

  She tilted her head back, a quizzical look across her face. “What?”

  “You smell like peaches and taste like strawberries. Earlier I was thinking of the fun we could have with chocolate sauce. First, I’ve made dinner for you and then, if you’re a good girl, we’ll see about dessert.” He ran his finger down her nose, giving it a playful tap on the tip.

  Cherry slid her hands up under his shirt, running her nails across his chest, scraping his nipples. He held his ground, watching the playful smile as she worked to drive him nuts. Not hard when looking at her got him hot and hard.

  “What if I’m a bad girl? Do I still get dessert?” she teased.

  She nibbled along his jawline, working her way toward his ear. Her nails scraped down his back. Switching gears, her touch became soft as she trailed the tips of her fingers along the waistband of his worn jeans, working her way inside. A nip on his earlobe sent a rush flooding through him. Intense pressure as she sucked it into her wet, warm mouth nearly sent him over the edge. Screw dinner, the longer the steak marinated, the better it’d taste anyway.

  “Come on.” He tugged her by the hand, leading her through the house at a half run.

  “Where are we going?” she asked breathlessly.

  “To give you your just desserts.”

  He led them to his bedroom, where all the curtains were drawn, keeping prying eyes and lenses away. The dogs would alert them to any unwanted guests, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

  “Turn around.” He slipped her sweater off, revealing bare shoulders kissed by the sun many times over. He followed their path with his mouth, trailing kisses down her back to stop where material met flesh. He unzipped her sundress, slipped the thin straps down her arms, and let the offending garment pool at her feet, leaving her standing in a pair of silky hot pink panties and black heels.

  He skimmed his hand up her stomach, cupping a warm breast with one hand, thumbing the nipple. His other hand slipped between the silk of the material and the flesh between her thighs. “You drive me crazy. This isn’t how I planned for tonight to go. I wanted to take it slow. Wine you and dine you.”

  She pushed back against him. “I’ve always believed in the theory ‘life’s short, have dessert first.’ ”

  He nudged her panties down, until she stepped clear. When she bent to take her shoes off, he told her to leave them. Quickly he shucked his shirt and jeans off, slipped on a condom, and backed Cherry against the wall. He skimmed his hands up her sides, took her wrists, and held them over her head. Mine, he thought. “Tell me you want me.”

  She met his gaze, her own full of heat and desire. “I want you. Now.”

  “Far be it for me to deny a lady.” He kissed her deep as he plunged into her.

  She wrapped one leg around his waist, pulling him in tight as he took her as she demanded. In those moments, he gave everything he had, everything he felt, everything he’d hoped for. Life. Passion. Love.

  He used actions to say the words he couldn’t form.

  She cried out his name as he pushed her over the edge, then followed. Cherry sagged against him and he braced a knee and arm against the wall to hold them both up. Their breath came out in deep, ragged gulps. They stumbled toward and landed in a heap on the bed, a sweaty mass of slick flesh.

  “I should apologize.”

  Her head shot up. “For what?”

  “I forgot the chocolate sauce.” He chuckled and leaned over her. “Guess we’ll have to save it for round two.” If things went as he planned, they’d have many more nights to explore and experiment. They’d have a lifetime. First, he needed to convince the woman in his arms to bring over more than a toothbrush.

  He started to slip from the bed. Cherry reached out and grabbed his arm. “Save it for round three. Right now all I need is you.”

  Lying in bed with Cherry wrapped in his arms sounded like the perfect way to spend the rest of the night, until her stomach gurgled, and sent Cherry into fits of laughter.

  “If you plan on a round two, I think you better feed me first or I may not make it,” Cherry said.

  “You and me both. Come on.” He pulled her up and quickly they pulled on clothes and headed out to the patio,
where he flipped on the heater and started up the grill.

  They sat on the patio eating steak by candlelight, every morsel bursting with flavor. The dogs, spent from hours of play, lay at their feet. The crickets, cicadas, and frogs serenaded them with their song. Every muscle in Jason’s body relaxed and hummed with satisfaction.

  “Maybe the secret to world peace is dessert first. Think about it, if they served dessert first at peace summits, we might not have any more wars. I can’t imagine hating anyone when I feel this good, much less summoning the energy to fight.” She swirled the wine around and around in her glass, seemingly mesmerized by the red liquid. “This is really good. You should think about selling it.”

  “Thanks, can’t unless I have a vineyard . . . Rhode Island laws. While your idea has merit, it would only work if all the nations sent equal numbers of willing and unattached partners. Otherwise the UN might have a different kind of war on their hands.” Jason refilled her glass even though it wasn’t empty.

  “Trying to get me drunk and take advantage? Oh, wait, can’t take advantage of the willing. Nice try, and good point. Would you, if you could, give up carpentry, plant some grapevines, and run your own winery?” Her voice was distant as she stared into the night sky.

  He refilled his own glass, thinking about her question. In all honesty, he’d never thought about doing anything else. Not that he grew up dreaming of rehabbing buildings. The owner of a small construction company had given him a job hauling debris to the Dumpster and running errands for the crew, and he’d progressed from there. He paid Jason under the table, giving him instant cash and a way to feed himself and the old man, and more importantly, a way to escape as soon as he turned eighteen. He ran with it, never looking back, not really looking too far forward.

  “I don’t know. There’s a big difference in making five gallons at a time for yourself and making fifty gallons or more for customers. Plus there’s tending the land, hiring the right employees, dealing with the strict state laws, and so much more. I love making wine, it relaxes me and you can’t top the reward. Turning it into a job would probably take the enjoyment away. What about you, what’s your dream job?”