“Very attractive.”
“All right,” she said, trying not to look too pleased, “very attractive woman for five years now—”
“I wouldn’t date anyone for five years.”
“Why not?”
“What’s the point? I’d either marry her or move on.”
“Oh.” She thought about it a minute. Dave didn’t know all the facts. “Let me start over. Let’s say, you were married before.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you married?” Dear God, maybe she’d just kissed a married man.
“Not married.”
That was a relief. “Divorced?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, let’s just pretend you were married and divorced and your ex-wife was the spawn of Satan.”
“Is that your description or his?”
“His of course, I barely know Big Leslie.”
“Big Leslie? What is she, an elephant?”
“Of course not! Big Leslie is very . . . well, she’s very attractive and has a very nice figure. It’s just that their children are both named after them.”
“Let me guess. Spencer Jr. and Little Leslie?”
“Right!”
“I bet Big Spencer didn’t think Big Leslie was so awful when he married her.”
“How am I supposed to ask you my question when you keep interrupting me?”
“Sorry,” he said. “Go on.” Only he didn’t look sorry. He looked like he was thoroughly enjoying himself.
“Where was I?”
“I was divorced and my ex was Satan’s spawn.”
“Oh, yeah. So you’re divorced and very bitter toward marriage in general, because, you know, you had all your hopes and dreams shattered, and even though this terrific person who’s smart, creative, and very attractive comes along, you can’t commit because you’re afraid of risking failure again. Plus, there’s children involved.”
“You and Spencer have children together?”
“Of course not! He and Big Leslie have children together.”
“Just checking.”
She downed the rest of the water. “And these children, while being very bright and well adjusted, are in somewhat of a fragile state.”
“How long have Spencer and the Spawn been divorced?”
“Seven years.”
“And the kids are still in a fragile state about it?”
“They’re very sensitive children.”
“Uh-huh.”
Georgia sniffed. “Never mind. The situation is probably impossible for you to understand.”
“Oh, I understand all right. This guy has his cake and he gets to eat it too.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“How old are you?” Dave asked.
She had to think about that. “Thirty-two.”
“I take it you and Big Spencer are on intimate terms?”
“We have been dating for five years.”
“How old is this guy? Where’d you meet him?”
“Spencer is forty. And . . .” she hesitated, knowing what his reaction to this next part would be. But there was no avoiding it. She was the one asking Dave’s opinion, after all. “And he’s my boss.”
“You’re doing your boss?”
She scowled. “That’s so crude. Spencer and I are in love.”
He snorted. “If you’re so much in love, then why did you kiss me?”
“I didn’t kiss you! You kissed me. Besides, I’m drunk. I’m not responsible for my behavior.”
“Bullshit. You’re not that drunk or else you wouldn’t be able to carry on a conversation. Besides, I’ve never done anything I didn’t really want to do just because I’d had a few drinks.”
He was right. She hadn’t initiated the kiss, but she’d liked it. And if she hadn’t thrown up, who knows where it might have ended? Suddenly the whole boob-flashing scene jiggled in front of her eyes.
She shook her head miserably. “Before you, I could count the number of guys who’ve seen my boobs on one hand.” She placed her palm in the air, displaying five fingers. “Now I have to do double appendages.” She held up her second hand to add a digit. “First,” she said, wiggling a finger, “there was Andy Fulton. That was back in seventh grade, but that was an accident.”
At the look on his face, she explained, “I jumped off the diving board at the YMCA pool and my bathing suit top fell off. He told everyone in school he got to second base with me, but I got even. The next day in front of everyone in the lunch room I kicked him in the shin.”
“Nice.”
She smiled at his compliment. “Then there was Luke Bon nerman. He was my high school sweetheart. But he didn’t see my boobs by accident,” she said, feeling herself flush. “That was definitely on purpose.”
He grinned.
She held up a third finger. “Then in college I dated this guy named Carlos Gutierra. He was from Peru and was a dead ringer for Benjamin Bratt. Very sexy. Very—”
“Yeah, let’s skip him.”
“Then there’s my postcollege boyfriend, Jerry, who wanted to marry me, but he was in law school and I was trying to establish my career, so the timing wasn’t right.”
Dave nodded.
“And last, there’s Spencer. And of course, now you. Oh, and your friend Steve. Only you’re both sort of like Andy. An accident. So that makes seven guys.”
“I’m honored to be in the club.”
She made a face. “Now you’re making fun of me again.”
“No, I’m not. They’re probably the nicest set I’ve ever seen.” He paused. “In person.”
She glanced down at her chest. “They’re a B cup. On the small-to-average size, really.” She couldn’t help adding, “But they are kind of perky.”
“Oh, they’re definitely perky.”
“I’ve always thought they were my best feature. Body-wise, that is.”
His face turned mock serious. “I’d have to do a more thorough inventory before I’d go that far, but it’s a strong possibility.”
She frowned. “We’re way off topic here. We’re supposed to be talking about Spencer.” She leaned forward in her chair. “So, based on your experience as a man, what do you think the odds are that Spencer will propose?”
“You’re like a dog with a bone, aren’t you?”
“This is my life we’re talking about!”
“Okay.” He sighed. “The truth?”
“Of course.”
“There’s not a chance in hell Spencer’s ever going to propose.”
“Right.” She flopped back in her seat. That’s what she’d wanted, wasn’t it? Dave’s true opinion? Of course, just because he was a man didn’t make him an authority on the subject. She never blindly accepted results without questioning the validity behind it. “Have you ever asked a woman to marry you?”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I’m questioning your qualifications to make an informed opinion.”
“What are you? Some kind of statistics freak?”
“I’m an accountant.”
“Figures.”
“So have you ever asked a woman to marry you?” she persisted.
He twisted his mouth like he didn’t want to answer. Finally, he said, “No, I’ve never asked a woman to marry me.”
“But you’ve been in love before, right?” When he didn’t answer right away, she hit her forehead with the butt of her palm. “I can’t believe I’m asking personal advice from a relationship moron.”
“I’ve been in love before,” he said, sounding defensive.
“When? In high school?”
“None of your business. But regardless what you think of my ‘qualifications,’ I can tell you this on good authority. Spencer and I are probably more alike than I want to admit. When it comes down to it, most men all want the same thing.”
She cringed. “Don’t say it.”
“I said men, not boys. We aren’t all that
different from you, you know. Most men want to get married and have a family too.”
“Then why haven’t you gotten married?”
“Because I’ve never met the right one.”
“That’s such a cliché. You know what ‘I just haven’t met the right one’ means? It means you aren’t really looking.”
“You know what your problem is? You overanalyze everything. It’s either going to happen or it’s not.”
“You’re telling me the reason Spencer isn’t going to marry me is because I’m not the right one?”
“I’m not sure what Spencer’s problem is. Maybe it’s as simple as the fact that he’s already had the marriage-and-family bit and it’s not for him.” He softened his tone. “Sorry, babe, but from a male point of view, that’s the honest-to-God’s truth.”
Her shoulders slumped. Dave might not have an impressive relationship résumé, but he had a point. If Spencer really wanted to marry her, what was stopping him? She mentally shuddered to think what Dave would make of Spencer’s calculator gift. “How’d you get to be so smart? About women and designer shoes?”
“I told you, I have five sisters. All married.”
“No brothers?”
“Nope. But I have five brothers-in-law, six nieces, and eight nephews.” There was a hint of pride in his voice when he said that. “How about you? Do you come from a big family?”
“As big as they come.” He looked at her expectantly. “Frida and I were raised in a commune,” she blurted.
He looked taken aback. “No kidding?”
Why had she told him that? She never told anyone that. Even Spencer was a little foggy about her background. She must be tipsier than she thought. “Believe me, it’s not something I’d make up.”
He didn’t respond. Instead he looked like he was waiting for her to elaborate. She thought about changing the subject, the way she did whenever anyone probed into her background. On the other hand, she and Dave were practically on intimate terms. He’d seen her boobs. He knew about Spencer. And did it even matter? After tonight, she was probably never going to see him again.
“You’ve heard of music groupies?”
He nodded.
“Well, my mom was an art groupie. She painted some, but mostly, she liked guys who painted more. There were a bunch of us kids, all with different mothers and fathers. It was very free love, that kind of thing.”
A flash of recognition lit his face. “So that’s where you got your name. Georgia O’Keeffe.”
“I was born during my mother’s vagina stage. O’Keeffe did some pretty impressive abstracts on the female anatomy.” She paused, but Dave didn’t appear shocked, so she went on. “My mother worshipped the Goddess.”
He didn’t say anything.
“You know, the Divine Feminine Being, Mother Earth, all that,” she said.
He nodded slowly. “Sounds interesting. Are you two close?”
“She died a few years ago. It’s just Frida and me.”
“What about your dad?”
She rolled her eyes. “I told you, it was a free-love sort of commune.”
For the first time, he looked uncomfortable. Was it because he felt sorry for her? She didn’t like that. “So who do you worship?” she asked him.
He frowned, like he didn’t get it.
“We all worship something. Or someone,” she prompted.
“I guess you could say I was raised to worship the Goddess too.”
At first, she was a little startled, then she remembered his last name was Hispanic. Not too hard to put two and two together. “You must mean the Virgin Mary. I take it you’re Catholic?”
“Yep. I come from a big Cuban-Irish clan, all Goddess and saint worshiping. Second-generation Cuban-American on my dad’s side, third-generation Irish on my mom’s.” There was that hint of pride again. She could picture him now, surrounded by all those nieces and nephews, like some cozy scene from a TV sitcom family. A tiny part of her couldn’t help but feel jealous.
“You really believe in all that organized religion stuff?”
“I believe there’s a God and that when we die we go someplace better than here.”
She shook her head. “It must make your mom crazy that you aren’t married yet.”
“Have you been talking to her?” He grinned. “Ten years ago my mom’s dream was that I’d settle down and marry a nice Catholic girl. Five years ago, she just wanted me to marry a nice girl. I think right now, she’d settle on any girl. Nice or not.”
Georgia laughed. Her head wasn’t throbbing so much anymore.
“What about you?” he asked. “Who do you worship?”
She thought about it a minute. No one had ever asked her that before. “I believe in things that are real. Like marriage and having kids, but I think if you wait around for some imaginary soul mate to show up, then you’re going to end up waiting forever. I think you have to make goals and find someone whose goals match your own, and if everything else works out in the relationship, then that’s the person you should be with.”
“So you think Spencer shares your goals?” His tone edged on the sarcastic.
“Absolutely. He’s successful, driven, and for the most part he knows what he wants. As for marriage, okay, I admit, he’s still on the fence where that’s concerned, but nobody’s perfect. I’ve vested five years in this relationship and I’m not going down without a fight.”
“Vested? It sounds like Spencer is some sort of pension plan.”
“At least I’m doing something to make my life happen. What about you? How long are you going to wait around for Ms. Right to show up?”
“As long as it takes.” He shrugged. “I’ll know when it’s right.”
She wasn’t sure how to respond to his candor. For the first time tonight, the conversation between them hit a lull. She thought about excusing herself, but she wasn’t ready to say good-bye to him yet. She remembered from reading his driver’s license that he lived in Tampa. “So what are you doing here in Whispering Bay?”
“I’m thinking of going back into business with an old friend. You met Kitty Burke, right?”
Drew Barrymore. Georgia nodded.
“Her boyfriend, Steve Pappas, and I used to own a construction business down in Tampa. He’s opening up a company here and he wants me to come along for the ride.”
“Is it a good opportunity?”
He hesitated. “It’s a big risk, especially in this economy. Steve’s not hurting financially, so he can afford to go out on a limb. Me, not so much.”
“You’re right. It doesn’t sound too promising.”
It looked like he was about to say something more, but instead he stood. “I should call it a night.”
“Already?”
He glanced at his watch. “It’s almost three.”
“What? It can’t be!” She grabbed his wrist and checked the time for herself. “Oh.” She’d had no idea they’d been talking that long. “So, thanks for the ride.”
“Anytime.” He smiled and she was once again reminded of Frida’s description of him. Tall. Nice-looking guy. Great smile. The kind of smile that made it all the way up to his eyes—
“Hey, do you wear contact lenses?” The question jumped from her mouth before she could stop it.
“No, why?”
She cleared her throat. “Just asking.”
Okay, so Frida was right. Three out of three.
But he still wasn’t her type.
Plus, she was in love with Spencer. Madly and deeply in love.
“Any more questions?” he asked.
She was about to respond no, when she thought of one. “What was the kiss for?” He looked surprised. “I mean, what was the purpose behind it?”
“You don’t know what a kiss is for?”
“Of course I know what a kiss is for . . .” she stammered, feeling her face go hot. “Are you making fun of me again?”
“Sorry, you just make it so easy.” He smiled ruefully. “Don’
t overanalyze it, Georgia. Sometimes, a kiss is just a kiss.”
7
Sometimes a kiss is just a kiss.
Had she watched an old movie last night?
Georgia woke up to the smell of fresh coffee and a strange humming noise she couldn’t place. She rolled over and eyed the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was almost ten.
Shit.
She’d missed the staff meeting.
In the five years she’d worked at Moody Electronics, she’d never once missed a managers’ meeting. She sat up a little too quickly. Her head was throbbing and her mouth felt stuffed with cobwebs.
And that’s when she remembered she wasn’t in her two-bedroom town house in Birmingham’s Red Mountain district. She was in Whispering Bay, Florida, in the tiny apartment above her sister’s cafe, unemployed and most certainly not engaged.
Last night, she’d told Spencer to fuck off. And then she’d quit her job.
What had she done?
Why had she listened to Frida’s friends?
Damn those Bunco Babes or whatever silly name they called themselves.
The rest of last night’s memories came flooding back. Had she really kissed Dave Hernandez? And described her own boobs as perky? She moaned aloud. It was like some weird dream, only it wasn’t. It had all happened. But Dave wasn’t Humphrey Bogart and she sure as hell wasn’t Ingrid Berg-man.
She had to fix this. Now.
Spencer answered on the first ring. “I hope this isn’t going to be a repeat of yesterday.”
“I . . . I have no excuse for my behavior.”
“Give me one reason I shouldn’t fire you.”
Fire her? She’d quit, hadn’t she?
She bit back the tiny bit of pride that wanted to remind Spencer of that particular fact. Anyway, it was a moot point. The thing was she didn’t want to stop working for Moody Electronics. She’d help build the company into what it was and she wasn’t about to let a spat with Spencer ruin everything she’d worked so hard for.
“Please, let me explain. I was just so . . . so disappointed. I let our personal relationship interfere with our business one. I wasn’t myself last night, but I am now.”
There was silence. Silence was good, right? It meant he was at least willing to listen.
Maria Geraci Page 5