New Uses For Old Boyfriends

by Beth Kendrick

  But she climbed the wooden steps to the building’s second floor and opened the glass door marked COLLIER PROPERTIES. She swept into the reception area with what she hoped was great aplomb and announced, “I’m here to see Ben Collier.”

  A placid-faced assistant looked up with a smile. “Is he expecting you?”

  “No, but I’m his . . .” She faltered. “He and I go back to high school. I know I should have called ahead, but I was hoping I could just pop in and say hi.”

  The smile flickered. “He’s on a conference call right now. Why don’t you leave your name and I’ll have him—”

  Before Lila could respond, she heard another door open, and then Ben’s voice. “Great to see you, sweetie! Come on back.”

  * * *

  “Wow.” Lila glanced around the office, taking in the massive mahogany desk, the matching leather club chairs, and the varnished hickory flooring. “You’re a big deal.”

  Ben laughed. “I’m getting there. Wrestling control away from my dad inch by inch. You know how he is about the business.”

  “Little bit of a control freak?”

  “Little bit. He drops by every morning to make sure I haven’t run the place into the ground.”

  “I’m sure you’re doing great.” She gave him a flirty hair toss. “Look at you, with your desk and your blueprints. Very authoritative.”

  “I’m glad someone’s impressed.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “I shouldn’t be,” he admitted. “You always had confidence in me.”

  She started to relax and enjoy herself. “And you should trust my judgment.”

  He gestured to one of the leather chairs and she sat down, crossing her legs and swinging her ankle.

  “I’m actually handling my first solo project,” he said. “One of our boardwalk properties is up for lease.”

  “I heard.”

  “The last tenant had a five-year contract, and now that they’re moving, I can finally ask for what the property’s worth.”

  She stopped swinging her ankle. “Yes. About that . . .”

  “I put it on the market this morning,” Ben confided. “When I told my dad what I was listing it for, he about had a heart attack. He said I was overshooting and I’d never find a tenant.”

  Lila straightened her back. “You know, it’s funny you should bring that up.”

  “But we had an offer by lunch. I just got off the phone with the new tenant.”

  She sank back into her seat. “Oh.”

  “It’s some funnel cake franchise. They agreed to all the terms. Didn’t even try to negotiate.”

  How could she take action now? What could she even say? “Oh.”

  “It’s a big corporation, so I guess they don’t need to nickel-and-dime their landlords.” Ben looked inordinately proud, but she had to ask:

  “Have you signed the contracts yet?”

  “No, but their agent is sending over the documents by Monday. If all goes well, it’ll be signed and settled by the end of next week.” His smile faded as he noticed her reaction. “What’s wrong? You look upset.”

  “What? No. I was just listening. I had no idea real estate deals came together so quickly.”

  “They usually don’t.”

  “I mean, four hours from listing to writing up a contract?”

  He nodded. “Crazy.”

  “But I know space by the boardwalk is hard to come by.” She cleared her throat. “You don’t happen to have any other properties coming onto the market soon, do you?”

  “Nope.” He dusted off his hands. “This is it for the foreseeable future. My dad will finally have to back off and admit that I know what I’m doing.”

  She knew that this was the moment to “persuade” him, to lower her voice to a husky whisper and “negotiate,” but she just couldn’t do it. He had so much to prove and he deserved his success. So she did what she’d always done—supported him. “That’s great, Ben. I’m thrilled for you.”

  “We should have dinner,” he said. “To celebrate.”

  “That sounds lovely.”

  “Friday night?” he suggested. “My place?”

  She stood up and collected her handbag and coat with a sinking heart. “It’s a date.”

  He walked her to the door and kissed her. On the lips.

  For a moment, she was too startled to process what was happening. Then she registered the warm pressure of his lips against hers, the pressure of his arms around her waist.

  She could hear the phone ringing out in the reception area and a car rumbling in the alley below. This was what she’d been waiting for. A moment thirteen years in the making. The kiss that would rekindle the love that was meant to be.

  And it felt . . . fine.

  chapter 13

  “Well?” The next day, Jenna and Summer demanded Lila report to the Whinery for happy hour. “What happened with you and Ben yesterday? We heard you went to his office wearing some very sexy shoes.”

  “Um . . .” Lila took a sip of lemonade and stalled for time. “Where’d you hear that?”

  “Beryl—she owns the Retail Therapy boutique—saw you while she was taking out the trash.” Summer glanced down at Lila’s fashionably shod feet. “She said you had Catwoman boots on and your hair looked like a shampoo commercial.”

  Lila nibbled the end of her straw. “So?”

  “So then you came out a few minutes later looking all glowy.” Summer turned to Jenna. “Those were Beryl’s words, right?”

  “Glowy,” Jenna confirmed. “We need all the juicy details.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Lila murmured.

  Jenna smiled. “Sadly, no one here cares what you want. We demand answers.”

  “Whatever happened to privacy?” Lila went back to gnawing her straw. “Whatever happened to ladylike discretion?”

  “Oh, you forfeited your right to privacy and ladylike discretion when you crossed the town border,” Summer informed her. “Check the municipal code.”

  Lila looked at the inquisitive faces staring back at her and gave up on playing innocent.

  “It was actually supposed to be a business meeting.” She pushed her stool back from the bar. “It turns out his family’s company has a storefront up for lease in a prime location.”

  “Perfect timing!”

  “Not really.” Lila explained that the space had already been spoken for. “Stupid funnel cakes. And you know I can’t afford to get into a bidding war. So much for the Unfinished Business vintage clothing boutique.”

  Summer looked offended. “You need more real estate options? Why didn’t you come to me?”

  “Because you’re not a real estate tycoon?”

  “Ye of little faith.”

  Lila turned to Jenna. “Does she run this whole town?”

  Jenna nodded. “Pretty much.”

  “Don’t lose hope, chickadee.” Summer pressed her palms together. “We’re not out of options yet.”

  Lila glanced at the rows of bottles behind the bar. “You’re not going to tell me to put on something lacy and low-cut and go back to Ben to ‘persuade’ him, are you? Because my mother already covered that.”

  “Nope. I’m going to tell you to put on something high-necked and long-sleeved and prepare to have fun—but not too much fun.” Summer produced her phone and started dialing. “I’ve got a drinking buddy with some commercial property investments.”

  * * *

  The next morning, Summer met Lila at the Jilted Café and made the introductions beneath the red and white striped awning.

  “Jake Sorensen, this is Lila Alders,” Summer said. “She grew up here, she’s been out in the real world for a bit, and now she’s back and needs a place to set up shop for the summer.”

  Lila shook the hand of the ho
ttest guy to ever walk the streets of Black Dog Bay.

  He smiled down at her, all dark eyes and white teeth and Michelangelo bone structure. Lila could see why he had women swooning over him.

  Summer snapped her fingers to regain everyone’s attention. “Jake here is our designated rebound guy, man of international intrigue, eBay pinch hitter, and all-around man-whore.”

  Lila broke out her sweetest smile. “Enchantée.”

  “Behave yourself,” Summer warned. “Both of you.”

  “We will,” Jake promised, in a tone that promised everything but.

  Summer gave him a stern look. “Do I need to ride shotgun and chaperone you?”

  Lila and Jake shared a laugh. “No.”

  “Stop worrying about us,” Jake told Summer, “and start worrying about your wedding.”

  Summer gasped. “Oh my God, have you been talking to Ingrid?”

  Lila whirled around to hug Summer. “You and Dutch are getting married?”

  Summer sidestepped the hug. “No. Well, not officially. Wedding stuff gives me hives. And don’t try to change the subject.” She leveled her index finger and pointed it first at Lila, then at Jake. “I’ll see you back here in no more than one hour. The clock starts now.” She walked toward the historical building, throwing a few threatening looks over her shoulder as she went.

  As soon as Summer was out of view, Jake laughed again and turned off the smolder and sensuality. Lila felt completely comfortable with him as they walked toward their cars. (Jake took one look at the FUV and announced, “I’ll drive.”)

  “So the storefront’s over in Bethany Beach?” Lila asked.

  “Yeah. I’ll be honest—the location’s not ideal. It’s a few blocks west of the boardwalk, but it’s all I have available right now. Season’s starting in a few weeks. I’ll give you a great deal on the lease terms, though.”

  “Because Summer is your drinking buddy?”

  “More like my drill sergeant.”

  While they made the short trip to Bethany Beach, Lila wondered what it would be like to have a male friend who truly was just a friend. To be able to appreciate masculine energy and perspective without getting all tangled up in sexual attraction and expectations. To have a conversation without feeling it was a mere prelude to physical contact.

  In thirty years, she’d never had a mutually supportive, platonic friendship with a member of the opposite sex. And obviously Jake hadn’t, either—on the two-block walk from their parking spot in Bethany Beach to the vacant storefront, no fewer than five women approached him:

  “Hi, Jake.”

  “When did you get back into town?”

  “I’m Sarah, and I’m staying at the Better Off Bed-and-Breakfast. Room ten. Why don’t you drop by tonight?”

  One of the women acknowledged Lila with a death glare, but the others ignored her completely. They had eyes (and pouting lips and exaggerated hair flips) only for Jake. He deflected them with his sexy smile and easy charm, never pausing in his stride or committing to any of the indecent proposals.

  “You really are famous,” Lila marveled as he led her around the corner. “In Black Dog Bay and Bethany Beach.”

  “Yeah.” His tone was sardonic. “Some guys do brain surgery. Some guys pull people out of burning buildings. I’m the designated rebound guy. It’s my calling.”

  Lila laughed. “No wonder you and Summer get along. She must be like a breath of fresh air. Or a slap in the face.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t get metaphorical about it. I just answer her calls and do what she says.”

  “Hey, speaking of which, thank you so much for helping us out with the eBay listing.”

  “No worries.”

  “I really appreciate it. I know I should be able to handle a simple Internet auction, but I’ve been on a very steep learning curve lately.”

  “I’ll deny this if you tell Summer,” he confided, “but I made my company tech guy take care of it. So don’t be too grateful.”

  Jake had been right about the location being less than ideal. Although the space was light and airy, the storefront was situated on a side street with limited parking and very little foot traffic.

  Lila turned around, taking in the room’s dimensions and view of a brick wall. Jake watched her, and then, not even two minutes after he’d unlocked the front door, ushered her back out.

  “We’re done here.”

  “But I didn’t even say anything!” she exclaimed.

  “You didn’t have to. I’m good at reading people. Goes with the whole ‘man-whore’ territory.”

  “Yeah, about that.” Lila waited for him to lock the door behind them. “You don’t seem all that man-whorish to me.”

  “Summer told me to behave myself, and when the drill sergeant gives an order, I obey,” he said. “Besides, you’re a waste of time right now.”

  Lila stopped in her tracks. “Excuse me?”

  “You’re thinking about somebody else.”

  “That is . . .” Lila geared up for a vehement denial, then decided there was no point in lying to herself or anyone else. “. . . amazing. You really are good at reading people.”

  He drove back to Black Dog Bay and dropped her off next to her hulking white FUV, which was taking up a parking space and a half across from the café. Lila thanked him, dashed across the street, fished through her purse for her car keys, and then dashed back to Jake.

  He didn’t seem at all surprised when she knocked on his window. If anything, he looked amused. “Yes?”

  She forced the words out. “You’re good at reading people?”

  He turned off the ignition and settled back in his seat. “That’s what they tell me.”

  “And you obviously know a few things about dating and romance, right?”

  His expression and voice went completely neutral. “What’s your question?”

  “Well, there’s this guy. . . .” She gave him the bullet points on Ben, the storefront, and the kissing. “So I’m having dinner with him on Friday, and I know he’s going to kiss me again.”

  He paused for a moment, sizing her up. “You don’t seem very excited about that.”

  “No, I am, it’s just . . . should I even bring up the retail space again?”

  “Yes.” There was no hesitation this time.

  “But I don’t want to muddy the waters.” She nibbled her lip. “I don’t want him to feel pressured or manipulated.”

  Jake launched into a mini-lecture with the authority of a tenured professor. “When a man likes you, he wants to help you. He wants to make you happy and impress you with his power and resources. It makes him feel good and induces you to take your clothes off. Everybody wins.”

  Lila stuck out her tongue. “That’s lovely.”

  “You asked for the truth; I’m giving it to you.”

  “But how do I frame it? What can possibly compete with funnel cakes and free-flowing corporate money?”

  He mulled this over for a moment. “A red dress and good scotch.”

  “Hmm.”

  “You like this guy? You want to seduce him?”

  “I want to be seduced by him,” she corrected. “I want us to go back to being the way we were.”

  “Then show up at his door with a bottle of scotch from the year you guys dated.”

  “Ooh, that’s good.”

  “I know.” He didn’t bother trying to fake modesty.

  “And I happen to have a connection at a liquor distributor.” She made a mental note to contact Tyler Russo.

  “There you go.”

  “Okay, so I show up at his door with my bottle of nostalgic scotch.” Lila closed her eyes, envisioning the scene. “Then what? I fan the flames of passion with my red dress?”

  “Right.” Jake was starting to sound the teeniest bit impatient. “B
ut that’s only if there’s a spark to begin with.”

  “There is,” Lila assured him. “I’m the woman he always imagined himself ending up with. He said so himself.”

  “Then how could a few funnel cakes possibly compete?”

  chapter 14

  In a futile attempt to distract herself from thinking about Ben, Lila spent the rest of the afternoon taking inventory of the guest room closet, where she discovered a gorgeous leopard-print car coat. The lapel consisted of a series of gently ruffled panels of black wool, the nipped-in waistline featured artfully stitched darting, and the bottom half flared out in a dramatic A-line. When she held the garment up for inspection, she noticed that a few of the buttons had fallen off and been stored in a small paper envelope in the pocket.

  She had no idea who had made the coat or how old it was, but she had a feeling it would go fast—and for a high price—on eBay. So she folded the garment over one arm and headed downstairs in search of a needle and thread.

  As she prepared to reattach the buttons, Daphne’s voice rang out from the hallway.

  “Stop right there! What do you think you’re doing?”

  Lila glanced down at the fabric, then back at her mother. “Sewing on a button?”

  “Unhand that coat immediately, young lady. You’re not qualified to do any repair work.”

  “Relax, Mom. It’s just a button.”

  “Just a button.” Daphne laughed in disbelief. “Allow me to enlighten you: When it comes to couture, there’s no such thing as ‘just a button.’ Every seam, every sleeve, every zipper, is expertly placed and stitched.”

  “But—”

  Daphne shushed her. “You sewing a button onto that Valentino is like me taking a Sharpie to the Mona Lisa.”

  “Enough with the Mona Lisa analogies. There are other paintings, you know.”

  “Fine. You sewing a button onto that Valentino is like me taking a Sharpie to the Birth of Venus.”

  Lila held up the coat. “Are you sure this is Valentino?”

  “Yes.”

  “How can you tell? There’s no label.”

  “It’s Valentino,” Daphne said. “I’m positive. I’m also positive that you’re about to defile a masterpiece, not to mention bring down the resale value considerably. Put that needle down.”