Darlene quickly relented. “No, no, of course not. You’re wonderful, you know that. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“How could I get hurt by one innocent dinner?”
Darlene fisted her hands on her boyishly thin hips. “Because I know you, Jac. You’re obsessed with the man. That’s why you don’t date much and why the few relationships you have had lasted like two months—total. You compare every man to your warped vision of Matt and they pale in comparison. The man himself couldn’t live up to your expectations.”
Jac stared in openmouthed silence at her so-called friend. “Thank you Dr. Joyce Brothers for your stunningly candid yet completely brutal evaluation of my life. Very enlightening.”
“Now Jac, don’t get all huffy. I’m just trying to do you a favor, spare your feelings.” Her head swiveled to the construction worker again. “Stu’s more your speed. Want me to talk to him?”
Jac breathed deeply to keep from lunging across the desk and slugging her friend. “What I want you to do, Darlene, is get back to work on those membership forms. If you will excuse me…” She let the sentence hang with the implied dismissal.
“Jac,” Darlene pleaded, “don’t be mad. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
A little late for that. She yearned to confide in Darlene, tell her about her discovery. She would probably make fun of her about that, too. Jac shuffled papers, faking an interest in health code regulations.
“Fine.” Darlene stomped away.
The woman nearly destroyed Jac’s confidence. She picked up the phone three times to cancel dinner. Only the fear of a killer targeting Matt kept her from dialing. She watched through the open doorway as Darlene circled her next conquest. Was she this bad in California? She’d never been shy bragging about her exploits, but Jac couldn’t remember her coming on to the patrons this openly. She would have to have a talk with her soon, but not today.
Feeling miserably sorry for herself, she scheduled a haircut, facial and manicure. Maybe she would go clothes shopping as well. She wanted to look good on her non-date, even if she didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell with Matt, according to the person closest to her in the whole world.
* * * *
Matt tossed his pen to the desk, leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He could feel a headache coming on. Rubbing a hand across his brow, he sighed. All afternoon had been spent on the phone, shoring up details to start construction on a luxury hotel on the Ohio River. He had one last call and then he wanted to go home, grab a beer and watch whatever sporting event ESPN chose to air. A knock sounded and Mary, his temporary secretary while Jane was on maternity leave, entered just as his cell buzzed. “Dianetti.”
“Hi, Dad.”
“Hi, princess. Hang on a sec.” He covered the mouthpiece with his palm and held a finger up to Mary, indicating he’d be a minute. She nodded politely in understanding.
“You’re home early. Is everything okay?”
“Fine,” she reassured him. “I just wondered if you could pick up a nice bottle of wine on your way home.”
Silence. “You’re fifteen, Lauren,” he pointed out.
Giggles. “Oh, not for me, Daddy. For you. I’m cooking a special dinner and the recipe said red wine would be the ideal complement.”
Matt gaze strayed to the woman staring at him with open interest. He didn’t want to have this conversation in front of a virtual stranger. “I’ll handle it.”
“Thanks, Daddy. Oh, by the way, we might be having a dinner guest. Please don’t be late. Love you. Bye.”
“Lauren…” Matt frowned at the dead phone and hit the off button, biting back a curse. His little matchmaking offspring was at it again. How many times did he have to tell her not to set him up? This was the first time she intentionally ignored his warnings and arranged a date at their home. Usually they would ‘accidentally’ run into the woman or once, she introduced him to her Spanish teacher at a school function. That had been, as the Spanish would say, uno desastre grande. When he turned down the woman’s blatant advances, she took it out on Lauren and picked on her in class. He had hoped that episode taught her a lesson but obviously ninguna tal suerte, no such luck.
Reeling his thoughts back to the present, he answered the questions his temp secretary fired at him and sent her on her way. He felt a little uncomfortable alone with her. She smiled salaciously, stared longer than was polite and managed to touch him every chance she got.
Propping an elbow on the desk and dropping his head to his palm, he eyed the calendar. Had it only been two days since Jane left?
* * * *
Jac spent the entire afternoon pampering herself. She started with a facial, then manicure, followed by a haircut. Jean Luc, the stylist, talked her into a sexy new style that included chopping off two inches. Her newly highlighted chunky do fell just past her shoulders. It was chic and hip and she loved it.
Jean Luc chatted the entire time and although she didn’t reveal who she would be having dinner with, she did tell him the man was special. He insisted on doing her makeup.
And he talked her into a bikini wax.
As the technician explained the procedure, Jac winced thinking about the barbaric ritual of ripping hair from the body at the roots. She had tried the home kits but they only managed to pluck out a handful, just enough to hurt like the screaming mimi’s, not enough to throw away the razor. The thought of that fabric strip ripping in her most delicate area caused a shiver.
It didn’t stop her from having her legs, underarms and brows done as well.
She left the salon feeling as if she’d left ten pounds of skin behind. She walked like a sunburn victim, but it had been worth it to regain her self-confidence.
The next stop was the College Mall to find just the right clothes. She selected a black Ralph Lauren silk button front cardigan with white trim and a black silk tank. A slim fitting knee length skirt, also black, made a stylish outfit, but one couldn’t have a new outfit without new shoes to accentuate the ensemble, could one? She thought not. Knee high Sudini boots made with premium Italian leather and a two and a half square inch heel completed the look of this outfit, plus four others.
Her last stop was Victoria’s Secret to purchase a racy lacy bra and matching undies. Might as well show off the smooth bikini area, even if she’d be the only one who would see it. She splurged on five sets of sexy undergarments.
As Jac signed the credit card receipt, the thought ticked through her mind that she was going through this, forking out money she didn’t have to spare, to hopefully impress a man she would spend maybe ten minutes with, just to tell him that because she put his name on a list, he could be a serial killer’s next target.
Jac visibly stiffened. She just realized that in order to tell Matt about the list, she had to actually tell him about the list. As in admitting that she selected him as a man she wanted to sleep with. She groaned. Loudly.
“Is something wrong, ma’am?” The salesclerk peered pensively at the credit machine and Jac realized that at her mortified thoughts she’d dragged the pen roughly across the computer pad. Her name was a straight line. Smiling sheepishly, she added a dot, replaced the pen in the holder, grabbed her bags and fled the store.
Few things bothered Jacqueline Sera. She was a strong, independent woman. In California, she called several A-list celebrities clients, served as their drill sergeant and ignored their pleas for leniency. Public speaking didn’t faze her. She was a popular lecturer at fitness conventions. Television interviews barely registered a ripple in her universe and she served as commentator for swimming events, provided weekly fitness tips to a local station and pitched the Swim Buddy 5000 on a nationwide infomercial. She’d sky dived, bungee-jumped and dove from cliffs in Acapulco. She stared down stoic faced, austere bankers and asked them to lend her a substantial amount of money with no sweat, moved across country to open her own club with barely a flutter. Nothing intimidated her.
Nothing except Matt Dianetti.
Facing the man she had a twenty-year crush on and telling him she’d put him on a list of potential bedmates paralyzed her. Her head hit the headrest. She would rather have a bikini wax in the middle of Wal-Mart. She banged over and over until she realized she was messing up her new coiffure.
Resigned to the task, she headed home to get ready. If she had to humiliate herself, she could at least look good doing it.
* * * *
Jac practiced Yoga breathing all the way to the Dianetti’s.
It didn’t help.
“You are a smart, confident woman,” she repeated aloud. Her finger shook and she had a hard time pressing the bell. Loud barking greeted her when Lauren whipped open the door.
“Murphy, sit,” the girl chided and then faced Jac with a mega-watt smile. She looked wholesome and pretty in a red Indiana sweatshirt and blue jeans, her flaxen hair secured into a long ponytail. “Jac. I’m delighted you could make it.”
Jac grinned, amused since was her idea to visit in the first place.
“You look gorgeous,” the girl gushed. “I love your hair.”
Jac nervously patted her locks. “Thanks.”
“Please come in.” Lauren ushered her inside with a sweep of her arm. “The quivering mass of black fur is Murphy. He won’t bite. He was outside last night when you visited. The reason he’s shaking like a washing machine is that he has been to obedience school twice but neither time took. He desperately wants to meet you and can barely contain himself.”
Jac laughed and squatted down to pat the black lab. “Hi, Murphy. Aren’t you handsome?
Murphy considered that a green light and pounced.
“Murphy, down,” Lauren yelled a fraction late as his eagerness knocked Jac off balance. She teetered on her two inch plus heels and landed flat on her back. Murphy proceeded to lick off her expertly applied makeup. Jac laughed and closed her eyes at his wet assault as she tried to fend him off with her hands. Lauren succeeded in pulling him back by the collar and Jac opened her eyes to amused blue ones.
“You must be our esteemed dinner guest.”
Six
Jac wondered if she stayed completely still, if she could make herself invisible. She clicked her new shoes together, squeezed her lids shut, and repeated, “There’s no place like home,” three times in her head. Cracking one lid, she realized she’d not been miraculously transported home like Dorothy, but instead was lying in an unbecoming heap on the terra-cotta tiled entryway in Matt Dianetti’s house.
At Matt Dianetti’s feet, to be precise.
Her eyes met his again and his brow quirked with amusement. She grinned sheepishly. “I don’t suppose this is one of those dreams that seem real but I’ll wake up in a few minutes, comfortable in my bed?”
Matt chuckled. “I’m afraid not. But if it makes you feel better, Murphy is usually wary around strangers.” He reached out a hand.
“Nope, not feeling much better.” Jac accepted his assistance and almost gasped at the shockwaves his touch ignited. Her head snapped to his and she realized by the startled look that he felt it, too. His brows bunched in confusion, his eyes studying her face. She blushed at the scrutiny.
“I must look a mess with streaked makeup and wild hair.”
His head rocked from side to side, his voice deep and husky. “Not at all.” A shiver coursed through her limbs.
Lauren rushed back into the room. “Oh Jac, I’m sorry. I put Murphy outside. I should have known better. He loves meeting new people”
Jac quirked a brow. “Usually wary, huh?”
Matt shrugged unrepentantly, and then glanced at their hands, looking startled to find them still joined. He jerked his away.
Jac watched as Lauren’s satisfied gaze moved from her to her father and back again. Jac’s eyes rounded in horror and she opened her mouth but Lauren beat her to the punch.
“Dad, this is Jac Sera. Jac, this is my dad, Matt Dianetti.”
“Nice to meet you Jac Sera.” She noticed he didn’t offer his hand again. “Jac is short for…”
“Jacqueline,” Lauren answered.
Jac practically watched the wheels crank in his head, as if the name rang a familiar bell. She hoped he didn’t remember the fair-haired girl from two decades ago. She humiliated herself then by throwing her arms around her rescuer and begging him not to leave. She was about to do much the same thing twenty years later.
One of life’s amusing little ironies.
As he struggled to pull the memory from his head, Lauren enlightened him. “Don’t you remember Jac, Daddy? She…”
Jac shook her head tightly and pleaded with her eyes. Understanding dawned and Lauren covered nicely. “She, uh, hosted the Swim Buddy 5000 infomercial.”
Jac gasped. How did Lauren know about that?
“Did she?” It was obvious Matt didn’t recall the commercial but at least he hadn’t remembered their first meeting.
“Shall we?” Lauren held out an arm and ushered the adults to dinner. They turned a corner to a room straight from the pages of Fine Dining. Flames leapt from a fireplace, tapers on the table and candles strategically placed around the otherwise seductively dim room. The muted light danced across the crystal and china, making them glitter brilliantly. Soft jazz played in the background and Italian spices mingled in the air.
“Lauren...” Matt growled in warning.
She ignored his fierce scowl and smiled cheekily. “Is that the wine?” Grabbing the bottle from his surprised hand, she fluttered away. “Be right back.”
“I’m sorry about this, Mr. Dianetti,” Jac pleaded.
He turned to face her. “Please, call me Matt.”
“Lauren has the wrong—”
“I’m back,” Lauren interrupted loudly, stopping Jac’s explanation. “Have a seat, and I’ll pour the wine.”
Jac took one step and froze. “Lauren, I only see two place settings.”
Lauren looked away guiltily. “Oh, yeah, well…um…I sorta forgot I had a previous commitment and won’t be able to stay.”
“My oh-so-subtle daughter,” Matt deadpanned. He sighed deeply. “I could always ground you from going out.”
“You could, Daddy,” Lauren agreed, throwing her arms around his neck. “But you won’t.” She kissed him on the cheek and eased off his suit coat. Picking up the bottle, she proceeded to pour Jac a glass. And pour, and pour…
“Easy, princess. Are you trying to get Jac drunk?”
Lauren tilted the bottle up and flushed prettily. “Oops, sorry. I’m not familiar with proper wine etiquette.”
“About half that amount,” Matt informed. “And it’s a good thing you don’t know about it or I’d be worried.”
Jac stared dubiously at her goblet. The liquid nearly sloshed over the sides. With her trembling hands, she would never be able to lift it without making a huge mess all over the expensive linen tablecloth. Conversely, she couldn’t bend down and slurp like a dog. She worried her bottom lip in consternation.
Lauren filled her dad’s glass with half the amount and announced, “I’ll bring the food in before I leave.”
A hush fell over the room. Jac looked up from her quandary to find Matt’s smiling eyes on her, his chin resting on his steepled fingers. “Are you an archeologist?”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re studying that glass as if it’s a priceless artifact.”
Her lips curved. “I was trying to decide how to gracefully take a drink.”
“It is mighty full.”
“Yes, it is.”
“You could just bend down and sip off the top.” His brows raised in challenge.
“You don’t think I would?”
“Honestly? No.” His smile was a sexy twist of his lips.
Jac never could refuse a challenge.
Lifting her brows to match his, she kept his gaze, stuck her mouth to the glass and sucked red liquid into her throat.
“Good grief, Lauren, you invited a woman over to eat who has
the table manners of a barnyard animal.”
Jac bolted upright and choked. She hadn’t even heard the girl approach. A stain matching the wine flushed her cheeks as she swabbed at her mouth with a napkin.
“Stop it, Dad,” Lauren chided as she situated a basket loaded with crusty bread on the table. “Ignore him, Jac. He thinks he’s so funny.” She rolled her eyes and then skipped back to the kitchen.
Matt barked a laugh. “She’s right, Ms. Sera. Ignore me. I was only teasing.” He patted her hand affectionately. Jac felt as if she’d just been scorched by a branding iron.
“Jac,” she murmured absently, staring at her tingling fingers.
“What was that?”
She looked at his face and her heart turned over. She struggled to compose herself. “Please, call me Jac.”
Matt saluted her with his glass. “Jac.”
Their eyes met, locked. She felt ensnared in the deep blue depths. Boldly his gaze dropped from her eyes to her shoulders to her breasts. Her heart thumped erratically.
“Uh-um.”
Jac jumped like a kid caught skimming goodies from the candy jar. Lauren jauntily placed steaming dishes on the table, a satisfied grin curving her lips. From the corner of her eye, Jac saw Matt toss back his entire glass of wine.
Lauren clapped her hands together. “I hope you enjoy the meal. I’m not nearly as good a cook as Dad, though.”
“Oh, you cook?” Jac asked him, impressed.
“My mother’s doing.” He refilled his goblet. “She insisted I learn so my wife wouldn’t have to cook every night.” He pulled a face. “Which is funny since Corinne couldn’t even boil water.”
“Play nice, Dad,” Lauren scolded. “I’ll be home later,” she called over her shoulder as she skipped from the room.
“Freeze, young lady.”
Lauren huffed at her aborted escape attempt. She turned and gifted Matt with a blinding smile and blinked innocently. “Yes?”
The List Page 4