———
At seven sharp, Paula wheeled the Miata into the circle, her breath hitching as she eyed the long-legged brunette in the black suit, the skirt well above the knee, but professionallooking nonetheless. Wynne Connelly was one beautiful woman.
Paula had chosen an olive green silk pantsuit for herself, with a pale yellow top. Most of her dresses — purchased for weddings or parties — were too dressy for a simple date, especially since she figured that Wynne had packed nothing of the sort. This pantsuit was one of her favorites, and a welcome departure from the skirt and blazer she wore five days a week.
The two women made casual conversation during the short drive to the restaurant, Paula running down her list of problems with the country western group, Wynne recounting how she’d impressed her boss with the first draft of their slide presentation. The brunette folded her hands in her lap, resisting the urge to take the smaller hand as it rested in invitation on the console.
Paula sensed a distance, but it wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable. It was as though they had to re-establish the familiarity they’d enjoyed two weeks ago, when their flirtations and admissions had eventually led to that kiss.
The hostess seated them at a small table for two that bordered the main passageway to the front door.
“Have you ever noticed that two women in a restaurant tend to get the worst tables?”
Paula asked. “Look around. There are tables with two men, and with men and women, and they’re all in the center of the room. But all three of the tables by the wall have two women.”
“I’m not surprised. I’ve noticed that when the planes are full, women end up in the center seats. And let me tell you, I do not like center seats,” Wynne scoffed.
“So you’re the marketing expert. Why is it that they do that? Do they really not value women as customers?”
“Well, in some businesses they certainly do. Department stores, grocery stores, even the auto industry’s finally coming around. But I think it’s different with the service industry — like the travel and dining business — because the service workers tend to be younger and they’re generally more intimidated by men than they are women.” She nodded her head in the direction of a clean table in the center now being occupied by two men. “If they had put us at that table, the men would have been seated over here, and they would have likely complained. I think the hostess was just trying to avoid that. It might be subconscious, or it might be policy, but we didn’t complain, so it got reinforced.”
“That makes me want to start paying attention to what we do at the hotel. I mean, if we do something like that, it isn’t intentional. But we do go out of our way to address problems, and that usually means the complainer gets rewarded, like that man at the counter the night I checked you in. I’m really going to watch that from now on.”
“It may just be that women really don’t complain as much at the hotel. They know what it takes to clean a room and handle small details, and they’re more willing to overlook lapses because some mistakes are easy to make.”
“I’m going to start complaining,” Paula announced sternly, pounding her fist lightly on the table. “But not tonight. Tonight, I’m just going to enjoy the company of my lovely companion.”
Wynne smiled sincerely. “And I’m enjoying your company too.” It was actually nice to have a dinner companion ask her what she thought about something, and really listen to her answer. With Paula, she felt as though she had a kindred spirit, one who saw her career as more than just a job and wanted to learn as much as she could to help her do it well. None of Wynne’s friends or family could fill that bill. That was just another thing she liked about Paula. Okay, that, and the fact that she looked like a million dollars tonight.
All through dinner, the hotel manager told funny stories about things that had happened at the Weller Regent over the years, leaving the marketer in stitches at times. There were just so many things about Paula McKenzie that were appealing, Wynne thought as she eyed her companion. The woman was witty, mature, ambitious — so many things that Wynne found attractive, but had been unable to find in a lifetime of looking. Paula was also downright sexy…. “I’m sorry, say that again.”
“I said I know a place near Disney where we can get a pretty good look at the fireworks display if you’re interested.”
“That would be fun,” she readily agreed. “You know, Paula, I really am glad that we’ve had the chance to get to know each other. Honestly, I used to dread these trips, but having a chance to spend time with you has really changed all that.” Wynne gave in to what she wanted, reaching across the table for Paula’s hand.
Paula took it and smiled, very glad to see Wynne close the distance between them. “You have no idea how much I look forward to your visits. I tell you, sometimes it just makes me nuts to know that you’re right there in my hotel and I can’t….”
“Good evening, ladies.” A distinguished gentleman and sharply dressed woman suddenly appeared beside their table, causing Wynne to immediately withdraw her hand.
“Mr. Markoff, hello,” she stammered.
“It’s Ken, and this is my wife Rachelle.”
“Pleased to meet you. And this is my friend, Paula McKenzie.”
Paula leaned forward to shake the couple’s outstretched hands. From her days managing the business meetings at the hotel, she recognized the CEO of the company where Wynne worked.
“You look familiar, Miss McKenzie.” Realization dawned and he went on, “I remember. You run things at the Weller Regent.”
“Well, I don’t exactly run things, but sometimes it feels that way,” she joked.
“We’ve always been pleased with your hotel. Oh, and Wynne, Cheryl stopped in today to show me a few of the slides you two prepared. Great job!”
“Thank you.”
“Ken, we should leave them to their dinner and get out of this aisle. It was very nice to meet you both,” Rachelle offered sincerely.
“The pleasure was ours,” Wynne answered, still in disbelief that her boss had walked upon her holding hands with her dinner companion. As they walked away, she quickly recovered. “Maybe we should settle the check and go.”
“Of course.” Paula knew what Wynne was thinking and she felt awful for her. She’d have reacted the same way had it been the CEO of her hotel chain at their table.
They hardly spoke again until they settled in the car.
“You want to talk about it?” Paula cajoled.
Wynne shook her head miserably. “No, there’s nothing to say. It’s not like I’m going to be working there much longer anyway. I just hope it doesn’t affect my reference.”
“You know, they didn’t act surprised or put off by anything. In fact, I’d say they were perfectly casual about it.”
“People practice that sort of thing. But it doesn’t mean they don’t walk away changed.”
Paula sighed. She knew her friend was right. “Well there’s nothing we can do about it now. Shall we go see the fireworks?”
“Do you mind if we don’t? I just feel sort of…” deflated, “unsettled about it. I don’t think I’d be very good company.”
“Sure,” Paula agreed.
Both women were thinking that it was too bad an otherwise wonderful evening was ending on such a bad note.
Chapter 8
Wynne Connelly had never been so disheartened in her life. Even as she lay immobile in a hospital bed after her accident, she knew that eventually she would recover from the worst of her injuries. All of her doctors had predicted that with a long and arduous rehabilitation, she would one day regain most of the function of her left leg; so she had never allowed herself to wallow in self-pity or defeat. At every temptation to do so, she’d remember that boy who died.
The wall clock in her small office at Gone Tomorrow Tours read 6:20, and the calm quiet from the cubicles outside her door told her that she was probably the only one still here.
The days were longer now, but she’d grown accus
tomed to working well past dark.
Wynne turned over in her head the reasons for her discouragement, with two looming very large: her work and Paula McKenzie. Soon, she would likely be out of a job, a job she really liked. Even if her position got a reprieve, it was possible that she wouldn’t be moved up the corporate ladder as long as Ken Markoff held the reins. She could potentially languish in mid-management her entire career. Perhaps it would be best if she was terminated after all, and forced to find something that held more promise.
Speaking of promise, Paula McKenzie was full of promise. Wynne had never met another woman who stirred her the way the pretty blonde hotel manager did, and if their kiss was any indication, the feeling was mutual. But Paula wasn’t in the cards for Wynne, she knew. There were too many obstacles to overcome. So again, she reminded herself that she had nothing to offer but friendship.
Still, Wynne hated where they’d left things last week, not even making plans to see one another again because she had freaked out about Ken Markoff. The way she figured it, she had only two remaining trips to Orlando, and she wanted to have fun.
———
Slayer eyed the distance carefully between the small dining table and the bar at the kitchen, where the woman who lived here at his house was making pictures on a screen by clicking her fingers across its base. If he could get closer, he might persuade her to stop for a moment and scratch his head.
Thump!
“Hi, sweet boy.” Paula’s right hand automatically rose to do his bidding, her left hand manipulating the mouse to log on to her internet connection. She had sent Wynne a cheery email last Thursday, hoping to ease the angst the woman obviously felt about what had happened at dinner the other night. So far, she’d received no reply.
Today, though, was different. Among her 11 new messages — including three that promised to make her penis longer and thicker — was a note from Wynne.
Hi Paula, I’m sorry to be so slow getting back to you. As usual, there is a lot to do when I return to Baltimore, and again when I’m preparing to leave. This is the lull between those times, when only a 10-hour workday is required.
I’ve confirmed with E-M that I have only two remaining trips to Orlando, this weekend and again two weeks later. If I’m invited to participate in the presentation of our plan, that will be in New York, but I’m not holding my breath.
So if you can overlook the fact that I became a total basket case the last time we went out, I’d love it if we could get together again next Tuesday.
Since you mentioned the fireworks at Disney, I wonder if you’d be willing to consider an evening there. I sure hope so.
Wynne Paula reread the note several times, not just to understand what it said, but to come to terms with what it didn’t say. Two more visits and that would be it. Obviously, Wynne wasn’t thinking past her work here in Orlando. In fact, that kiss they’d shared seemed a long time ago, and Wynne hadn’t made any kind of sign at all that she wanted to go there again.
Disappointment hung in the air as Paula shut down her computer. She had been nearly certain that things had clicked for Wynne just as they had for her, especially after their kiss. Her practical side said it was probably just as well — not much you can do with a girlfriend in Baltimore when you live a thousand miles away and work at a job that gives you Tuesdays and Saturdays off. But the impulsive side was frustrated. She had hoped that they might be able to work something out.
At the very least, though, she’d made a friend, perhaps even someone she would see again if Wynne held onto her job and made occasional trips to the company’s headquarters. But the idea of having Wynne Connelly as a friend wasn’t as comforting as she’d hoped it would be.
———
Wynne settled into her favorite chair in the corner, balancing a small plate of peeled shrimp and fresh vegetables. The Sunshine State wasn’t living up to its moniker and that would likely thwart her plans with Paula for an evening at Disneyworld, as the forecast for tomorrow was more rain.
Things had gone great at work today, where she and Cheryl finished the cost and revenue projections for all six scenarios of their marketing plan. They had only to rank-order their recommendations and finalize the slide presentation. On Wednesday afternoon, she and Cheryl would present them to Ken and Wendell, and Wynne would spend her final visit readying the presentation for the industry stock analysts.
“Nice day for ducks, huh?”
Wynne smiled at once at the sight of the pretty blonde. She’d been lost in her thoughts and hadn’t seen the woman come in. “Hi, stranger. I was wondering if I’d see you tonight.”
“Yeah, it’s kind of quiet. I was hoping I’d find you here.” Paula nearly melted at the sight of the warm smile. Maybe she’d read everything wrong after all.
“Thanks again for sending up that umbrella.” Wynne found herself oddly nervous in Paula’s presence.
“You’re welcome. In fact, that’s why I wanted to find you tonight. Not the umbrella, but the weather in general. We’re supposed to get more of the same tomorrow, so Disney might not be a good idea.”
“So what’s Plan B?”
Paula hesitated while one of the hosts came to clear Wynne’s plate. “You know, I like to cook,” she said, keeping her voice low and trying her best to sound casual. “How would you like to come to my place for dinner?”
No. I shouldn’t do that. “I’d love to. That sounds wonderful.” God, this woman was irresistible.
“Great.” Oh yeah, read it all wrong. All of a sudden, the electricity in the air was almost palpable. “So should I come pick you up at seven?”
“What if I got a taxi? Wouldn’t that be easier? Then you wouldn’t have to stop what you were doing to come get me.” And we’re not seen together again.
Paula nodded her agreement, drawing a pen and a business card from her pocket.
Knowing that she’d already spent an inordinate amount of time talking with Wynne in the lounge, she hurriedly jotted down her address and home phone number. “Here you go. Come whenever you’re ready.”
“I can’t wait.” This would be fun, she thought, getting a glimpse of what Paula was like in her own home.
“Oh, I hope you don’t mind a cat…although Slayer doesn’t know he’s a cat.”
“Not at all, and I promise not to tell him.” Wynne winked at that remark.
“Great. Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”
———
Paula watched from the living room window as the beautiful brunette paid the cabbie and started slowly in the rain toward the cover of the steps. Immediately, she started out the door to offer a hand.
“Let me take that,” she insisted, grabbing the umbrella as the tall woman struggled with the rail. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me too. I’ve been looking forward to this all day.” That was at least partly true. Another part of her had been anxious, again asking if it was the right thing to do.
“So have I. I hope you like chicken Marsala.” Paula walked slowly with the woman as she persevered to the second floor landing.
“That sounds great. Paula, this is a lovely community,” she said, turning back to take in the small lake, the tropical landscaping, and the neatly arranged condominium buildings.
“Thanks. There are developments like this all over Orlando. Each one is a little different, but the idea is the same. I like this one because the clubhouse has a nice fitness room and a pool, and there’s a jogging trail around the golf course next door.”
“It’s also very nicely laid out. The places like this in Baltimore don’t have all this pretty landscaping and the buildings are right on top of each other. I live in a townhouse, and we hardly have any of this common area, let alone something so pretty as a lake.” Wynne was truly impressed with the complex.
“Well come on in. Let’s see if you like the inside as much.” Paula led her friend on a tour through the kitchen and living room, which were hard to miss as they ente
red through the front door. Since she was on the second floor, she had a cathedral ceiling with skylights in the living room and dining area. In the hallway was the door that led down to the garage, a guest bedroom and bath, and finally, the master suite with a larger bath and walk-in closet. “But here’s my favorite room.” Paula opened the door off the master bedroom that led onto the sun porch, where Slayer lay curled on a cushioned chaise lounge.
“Hi there, handsome,” Wynne cooed, stretching out a hand slowly to pet the indifferent orange beast.
But after three strokes, he was fully on his back, now quite interested in these soft new hands that adored him so. This tall person could stay.
“I’d say you have a new friend.”
“He’s adorable,” Wynne offered, still stroking the white belly as Slayer lay in nearhypnotic bliss.
“Let’s see if you say that when he tries to eat off your plate. I won’t even tell you some of the other adorable things he does.” But when coaxed, Paula did share a few of the cat’s more colorful exploits.
“Sounds to me like he’s just doing his job,” Wynne defended the cat, who had followed her back into the living room.
“Figures you’d take his side. You’d be singing a different tune if he dropped a squirming lizard in your bed!”
Wynne chuckled softly, still scratching her new furry friend. “I really like this place, Paula, everything about it. I bet you’re really comfortable here.”
“I am. I sort of wish I’d bought a three-bedroom so I’d have a little more room, but I don’t get much company. My mom comes over from Cocoa once in a while, and my best friend stayed with me when her place got tented for termites.”
As she talked, Paula poured them each a glass of cabernet sauvignon to enjoy with crackers and cheese as their dinner simmered. Shaking her head in resignation, she watched as her guest shared the cheese with the now positively slutty Slayer.
The friendly cat was a welcome distraction for Wynne, who would otherwise have fumbled nervously for conversation. It was practically tormenting to be here in Paula’s home, to witness her in such a casual, familiar way. The blonde was barefooted, dressed in faded jeans with a tightly fitted long-sleeved top that crept up her muscular midriff each time she moved. Wynne had never before been so aware of another woman’s sensuality. Coming here was not a good idea, she now realized; but she didn’t want to be anywhere else.
Just This Once Page 8