Bunco Babes Gone Wild

by Maria Geraci

  “So purchase more ingredients! We need to make sure this fund-raiser goes off without a hitch. I suppose there’s no reason we can’t have both deserts.”

  Frida might have to kowtow to Bettina, but no way was Georgia going to let this woman run all over her sister. “I think key lime tarts sound absolutely scrumptious,” said Georgia. “How many do you think you can make for the party?”

  Bettina turned to gape at her. “Make? You mean as in me personally?”

  “It’s your recipe, isn’t it?”

  “But . . . but, I already have a job.” She smiled and threw back her shoulders. “Like you said, I’m the head of the balloon committee.”

  “Yes, and I know how time-consuming that must be. But I thought you said with this new nanny of yours you have extra time on your hands. Time to devote especially to Black Tie Bunco. I, for one, am really looking forward to tasting these key lime tarts.” She shouldn’t egg Bettina on like this, but Georgia couldn’t help herself.

  Bettina seemed dumbfounded.

  Unfortunately, it only lasted a few seconds.

  She narrowed her eyes at Georgia. “I just came from the senior center. While the wall tearing down thing was a good idea, I’m afraid the space still isn’t big enough to hold everyone to watch this little cinematic masterpiece of Shea’s. So I’m getting Mr. Hunky to tear down the kitchen wall as well.”

  Mr. Hunky?

  “Bettina, we need the kitchen to hold the food,” Frida protested.

  “I thought you said it was being catered by the Harbor House. Can’t they bring one of those little portable kitchen thingies? They have portable toilets; they must have portable kitchens.”

  Mr. Hunky? Georgia couldn’t help but feel a twinge of . . . something. Not jealousy. Because there was nothing to be jealous of. She just didn’t like Bettina referring to Dave as a piece of meat.

  “Bettina,” Frida said patiently, “we need the kitchen to stay the way it is. Period. You had no authority to tell anyone to knock down a wall. Technically, Viola is head of the Friends of the Rec Center committee. You should have run it by her first.”

  Bettina’s jaw twitched. “Fine. You call Mr. Hunky and tell him to stop. I only left there a few minutes ago. I doubt he’s had time to get much done.”

  “Why don’t you do it?” Georgia demanded.

  “Because, as you can see, I’m on my way to a pool party,” Bettina explained.

  “I’ll call Dave,” Frida said. “I can get his number from Kitty.”

  The oven timer went off. Frida opened the door and gently pushed her finger over the top of one of the muffins and frowned. “These need a few more minutes.”

  “You take care of the muffins,” Georgia said to Frida. She stuffed the marketing plan into her purse. Wouldn’t want Ed to accidentally find it and freak out. “I’ll go stop Mr. Hunky myself.”

  15

  Georgia walked through the front door to the senior center to find Dave painting a freshly plastered section of wall that was now exposed thanks to their demolition work. To her relief, the kitchen wall was still standing.

  He interrupted his painting to glance at her. “Hey.”

  Despite the fact that the windows were open allowing a soft Gulf breeze to drift in, it was hot inside. He wore a Tampa Bay Rays T-shirt and jeans. A leather tool belt hung around his hips. His forehead glistened with perspiration. For some reason, it bothered Georgia that he was here alone, working on a project that he really wasn’t even involved in. He didn’t plan to stay in Whispering Bay. What did he care about this Black Tie Bunco fund-raiser?

  “What are you, a one-man team?” she asked.

  “I like doing this. It’s kind of relaxing.” He dipped his brush into a bucket of paint and wiped off the excess against the rim. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to make sure you didn’t tear down the kitchen. It sort of helps to have one when you plan to serve food.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched slightly. “I figured that.”

  “Bettina seemed to think she’d convinced you it needed to go.” She searched his face for some kind of clue. He had to know Bettina found him attractive. He was the sort of man most women would—on a primitive, elemental level. But was he the sort of man who’d take advantage of it? It bothered her to think he might have put the moves on Bettina. She didn’t think he was the type who’d go after a married woman, but then Bettina was exactly the kind of woman most men would find hard to resist on that same primitive, elemental sort of level.

  “I think Tofu has more sense than Bettina.”

  Georgia laughed a little too loudly. “She’s a piece of work all right.”

  “You didn’t really come down here thinking I’d torn down that kitchen wall.” It wasn’t a question. He didn’t look at her. He just continued painting.

  “I . . . I guess not.”

  Why had she come running down here? “I worked up a loan restructure for the Bistro. I think Bruce Bailey is going to go for it.”

  “That’s great.”

  She tried to think of something else to say. “And I’ve come up with a marketing plan to bring the place into the twenty-first century. Maybe you could take a look at it.”

  He stopped what he was doing to stare at her. His eyes seemed greener today. “Why would you want me to do that?”

  “I don’t know, I just thought . . .” God, she hadn’t felt this stupid since freshman calculus at Stanford, when she’d realized everyone around her was as smart as she was—maybe even smarter. So she’d set out to prove she could beat them all. Is that what she wanted now? To show Dave she was smarter than Bettina Bailey? “I should go.”

  He laid down his brush and wiped the palms of his hands against the back of his jeans. “Do you have it with you?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  He unbuckled the tool belt and placed it on the floor, next to the can of paint, then led her toward a couple of lawn chairs on the back patio. “It’s cooler out here,” he explained.

  They sat in silence while he read. Georgia tried not to watch his face, but instead of skimming the pages, like she’d thought he would, he took his time to study it. For some reason, his slow perusal was making her nervous. Which was ridiculous. It was a top-rate plan.

  He finished reading. “This is your idea? To turn your sister’s cafe into a Starbucks wannabe?”

  Georgia felt like she’d been slapped. “This is better than Starbucks.”

  “If you’re into overpriced coffee and elevator music, then nothing is better than Starbucks. What you need is to keep your sister’s place unique.” He glanced at the bottom of page one. “And the mermaid mural should stay.”

  “It’s tacky.”

  “Says you. Plus, I have a feeling your sister isn’t going to go for painting over it with”—he eyed the page again—“a tasteful greenish gray color.”

  She snatched the papers out of his hand. “I don’t know why I bothered asking your opinion. Obviously you know nothing about the restaurant business.”

  “I know that in about six months this town is going to be overrun with new construction. Which means that outside businesses are going to start sniffing around Whispering Bay. If Starbucks decides to put down stakes, then your sister is shit out of luck. She needs to offer something different. A full breakfast instead of just those muffins and bagels she makes. And she should stay open for lunch. New construction means hungry men. There’s not a decent fast-food joint for miles. She needs to serve up real food—burgers, sandwiches. Let her keep her fancy coffee and muffins, but she needs to add another customer base. One that will keep her afloat no matter who decides to move into town.”

  “What you’re suggesting is impractical. Have you actually seen the kitchen area? It’s way too small for making anything besides bagels and muffins.”

  “I’ve been in the kitchen area, remember?”

  She felt her cheeks pink up as a vision of her throwing up and Dave cleaning it popped into he
r mind.

  “This marketing plan of yours is nothing more than putting lipstick on a pig,” he said. “In the long run it’s not going to make much of a difference.”

  Her face went hot, but not because she was embarrassed. “You can’t just close your eyes and wish for a bigger kitchen.

  Renovations are expensive and the loan is already on shaky ground. If we go for a bigger loan and the idea tanks, then my sister will lose everything.”

  “You’ll never hit it big unless you take a risk.”

  “Look who’s talking? You won’t even think about going into business with Steve because you’re afraid. Of what? That he’ll dump you again?”

  Dave shoved himself out of his chair. “I have to get back to work.”

  Georgia snapped her mouth shut. Maybe she’d gone too far. She stood and reached out to touch him on the arm, but he backed away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Why did you really come here today? And why did you ask me to read your big marketing plan if you’re not going to listen to anything I say? To show me how smart you are?”

  “No!” The way he was suddenly staring at her made her nervous. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like . . .” She shook her head, unable to say it out loud. Like you want to kiss me.

  “I’m looking at you the exact same way you’re looking at me. I’m not the only one who feels it, Georgia. I’m just the only one who’s not in denial about it.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Okay, Ms. Stanford, then I’ll spell it out for you. I think your tits are a work of art. They belong in a damn museum. And the rest of the package isn’t too shabby either. So sue me. Any guy who tells you physical attraction doesn’t matter is lying. But it’s not just that. Despite the fact you’re dumber than a doorknob when it comes to men, and that you have absolutely no sense of humor, for some reason I really like you.”

  “I do so have a sense of humor!”

  “No, you don’t, but I could probably help you find one.” He paused and met her gaze dead-on. “If you’re interested in that, or anything else, let me know.”

  “What else would I be interested in?” She held her breath. Did he actually say her tits belonged in a museum?

  “Interested in this.” He reached out and pulled her against him.

  The papers in her hand fell to the ground. The kiss started off slow, the way it had the other night, but he quickly deepened it. She followed her first instinct—to place her arms around his neck and kiss him back. She could practically drink in the mingled smell of aftershave and sweat off his neck. She wanted to drown in it. She wanted to drown in him. In the way he looked at her and talked to her and the way his mouth worked over hers. She wanted to drown in the buzzing sensation zinging through her veins.

  His hands came down to cup her bottom, pulling her even closer. She moaned and leaned into him, against the hard muscles of his chest and—

  Oh, God.

  “Is that a hammer in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” she croaked.

  He half laughed, half grimaced. “Now that’s funny. Maybe you do have a sense of humor after all.” He turned serious. “It’s not a hammer, Georgia.”

  Of course it wasn’t.

  What was she doing? This was going way beyond an innocent kiss. She wasn’t as dense as Dave thought she was. She liked him too. She just hadn’t wanted to admit it to him. Or to herself.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, pulling away. For the second time today she felt stupid. And cheap. She’d mentally berated Bettina Bailey for openly gawking at Dave, but she was so much worse. She’d known Dave was attracted to her, yet she’d run down here anyway, anxious to see him. Anxious to see how far she could take the attraction. That was the real reason she’d come here today. She’d wanted Dave to kiss her again. But now she wanted a lot more than just a kiss. And it definitely involved his hammer.

  She took a deep breath, trying to shake off the sexual haze produced by that one simple kiss. It wasn’t like Spencer was a dud in the bedroom. She’d always been more than satisfied with their sex life. So why this strong need to make sure Dave found her desirable? Was it because she was feeling vulnerable where Spencer was concerned? Or was it because of some sick competition with Bettina?

  She didn’t love Dave. And she wasn’t the kind of woman who engaged in casual sex. But maybe that was only because she’d never really been tempted before.

  Not like this.

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I just can’t.”

  He smiled ruefully. “At least you didn’t throw up this time.”

  She didn’t know whether to be relieved or mad at him for taking it so gracefully. Or maybe she was just mad at herself. “You’re being too nice.”

  “Yeah, but you don’t know what I’m thinking.”

  She smiled. How did he always know the exact, most perfect thing to say to her?

  “Obviously, I am attracted to you. But that’s as far as it goes. I’m in love with Spencer. And I’m not a cheater.” She scooped up her marketing plan and stuffed it back in her purse. “I’ll think about what you said. About the kitchen expansion. Maybe you’re right about that.”

  He grinned. “You don’t really think that.”

  “I figured it was the polite thing to say. Considering you took the time to read it and all and I was kind of a shrew about it.”

  They laughed. It was all good. He wasn’t going all testosterone overload on her.

  “The next time you come into the Bistro, say hi to me.”

  He hesitated, then smiled again. “Sure.”

  Something in his eyes made her breath catch. It was a subtle change. One so small most people would probably never notice. But she did. He was never coming back to the Bistro again. And considering the way her libido seemed to take over whenever he was around, it was definitely for the best.

  16

  Before she’d even gotten to her car Georgia had her cell phone out of her purse. She needed to talk to Spencer. Right now. Not because she had anything super important to say. But after her near miss with Dave, she needed to hear Spencer’s voice.

  Crystal picked up on the first ring.

  “Hey, Georgia, how’s it going?”

  “Is Spencer in?” she asked, not bothering with any niceties.

  “Sure; he’s busy signing contracts, but I’ll put you through to him.”

  Contracts? What contracts? “Are the Valley Tech people still there?”

  “Oh, no. They left this morning.”

  “How did it go?” Before talking to Spencer Georgia wanted Crystal’s take on the visit. As scatterbrained as Crystal was, she was good at picking up vibes.

  “Okay, I guess.” Crystal’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Hey, can I ask you a personal question?”

  “Sure.”

  “Are you looking for a new job?”

  Georgia’s heart stopped. “Why do you think that?”

  “It’s just weird. There’s been a bunch of calls from headhunters today asking about you. I mean, there’s usually a couple here and there, but there was like, three right after lunch. And one of the guys from Valley Tech asked me where you were, like he was worried you’d left the company, you know? But I was real evasive. So they wouldn’t know you were on hiatus.”

  I’m not on hiatus! she wanted to shout. “Crystal, let me make this clear once and for all. I’m not on leave or hiatus or anything else. The only place I want to work is Moody Electronics. I’m on vacation. Pure and simple. After this week I’ll be back at my desk.”

  “I’m so relieved to hear that! I mean, this place just wouldn’t be the same without you.”

  Georgia relaxed a little. Crystal could be a total ditz, but she really was sweet. “If any more headhunters come sniffing around, tell them to drop dead. Okay?”

  Crystal giggled. “Sure thing.”

  “So, can I talk
to Spencer now?”

  “Of course!” Crystal put her through.

  “Babycakes, I was just thinking about you,” he said.

  “You were?” A surge of relief washed through her. She and Spencer were going to be okay. They had to be.

  “Yep. And I’ve been doing some more thinking. About what you said to me that other day, about this Black Tie Bunco shindig. I think you’re right. I should go down there and put in a personal appearance. We can get a hotel room in Destin and make a romantic weekend out of it. What do you say?”

  What did she say? She said yes! Her heart began to zoom. She could picture it all now. Romantic music playing in the background, cold champagne, Spencer looking handsome in his tux. She hadn’t brought anything fancy enough to wear for a formal event, so she’d have to go shopping for something new. Something sexy, but elegant. Spencer liked elegant—

  Then she remembered the Crimson Tide. “What about the game?” she asked cautiously.

  “Babycakes, I’m hurt. You’re more important than a football game.”

  “Since when?”

  “I guess I deserve that,” he said. “I’ve been doing a lot of soul-searching since you’ve been gone, sugar, and I don’t want to make the same mistakes with you that I made with Big Leslie. I’m a changed man, Georgia. At least, I’m trying to be.”

  He’d compared their relationship to his and Big Leslie’s. Which could only mean one thing. Spencer planned to propose.

  Georgia’s heart rate doubled. Her plan had worked! And she’d hardly had to do anything except put a little distance between them. Who knew the old adage about the heart growing fonder was true?

  “You still there, sugar?”

  “I’m here,” she squeaked.

  He chuckled. “Say, I know you’re on vacation and all, but would you mind taking a look at these contracts John Ambrose gave me? There’s a lot of dollar signs everywhere and you know how nervous those make me.” He paused. “I can fax them to you, if you’d like.”

  “Of course,” she said. She didn’t have access to a fax machine, but she’d get it. “Let me drive into Destin and see where I can find a machine and I’ll call you with the number.”