A Total Mismatch

by Madelaine Grant

  Beth heaved a long sigh. “You’ve been living like an ice queen for years. When are you going to melt? Did that marriage turn you off so much you don’t want to even try anymore? And don’t tell me anything’s going to happen between you and Peter. You’re just using him as an excuse not to date anyone. As long as you have good old Peter around, why bother making the effort?”

  There was a long silence as Sam took in her friend’s words. Deep down, she knew Beth hit the nail on the head. “Okay, okay, you’ve made your point. Let’s change the subject. How’s your ankle doing?” Her friend had sprained it while running.

  “Not so fast. Are you or are you not going out with Brice this weekend?”

  Sam heard the challenge in Beth’s tone of voice. “All right, I’ll see him one more time. He wanted to visit the gallery, so ask him to call me tonight and I’ll give him directions. We can go out for dinner afterward. Are you happy now?”

  “Sam, you know I only want what’s best for you. Why don’t you have dinner at the Blue Monkey? That way the four of us can spend time together.”

  Sam pondered the idea for a few seconds. Actually, it might be the best scenario. With Sean and Beth around, Brice would have to be on his best behavior. “Sounds fine with me.”

  ~ ~ ~

  “You work at that damn office night and day. When do you have time for me?” Lara Jensen hurled accusing words at Jordan over the phone.

  Jordan’s features tightened into a grimace. Maybe it was time to end this current liaison. “I told you from the beginning that I was not available during the week. I thought you were okay with that.” Why were women so demanding? He was dead tired by the time he left the office, usually around nine or ten at night. All he craved was a dish of chocolate fudge ice cream while he watched the late-night news. Then he crawled into bed. He didn’t need a woman around, harassing him to spend more time with her.

  Would a wife be as demanding as a girlfriend? That strange thought popped into his head, and was just as promptly quashed. He definitely was not in the market for a wife. Still, the idea planted itself into his brain like a stray seed blown by the wind. He couldn’t help thinking about his sister Lori’s easy-going attitude toward her husband’s frequent trips. Following that idea, could he assume that most wives overlooked their husbands’ busy work schedule as long as they were bringing in plenty of money? If so, marriage might not be as bad as he’d presumed. However, he was not about to exert any effort in that particular direction. Destiny would throw someone his way when the time was ripe.

  As soon as his mind fastened on those last few inner words of wisdom, Jordan felt a strange, prickly sensation in the back of his neck. Could it be destiny giving him a warning? God, he hoped not.

  Chapter 2

  The scent of roasting lamb and something spicy wafted through the air. Waiters scurried about, balancing trays amid the clatter of dishes and conversation. Sam sniffed with appreciation, enjoying the busy hubbub at the Blue Monkey restaurant.

  “Business is booming,” Brice observed. He pressed his hand to the small of Sam’s back as they followed Beth to a table.

  Sam felt like pushing his hand away, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort. That was as far as his hand was going to go. She had already determined that before he picked her up. At least he and her partner, Peter Finch, hit it off at the gallery. Of course, Brice was on his best behavior, and the two men had enough in common to make interesting conversation.

  “It’s that superb chef you have,” Sam said. “He makes the most divine dishes.”

  Beth sent her a sharp look. “I thought you were sticking to salads so you could get in shape for that wedding.”

  “What wedding?” Brice asked.

  “You don’t want to know about it. Believe me.” Sam was not getting into that subject on her night out.

  “I hope you won’t mind being near the kitchen. It’s the only spot open.”

  “Don’t worry, its fine,” Sam assured Beth, taking a seat. “We’ll be able to hear the music even if we can’t see Eddie and Eve.”

  “Eve’s home with the flu, so Eddie’s on his own.” Beth sighed as she handed them menus. “It’s not the same without Eve singing. I can tell Eddie’s really upset. I wish we had someone to take her place or another act to substitute.” She looked at Sam as a speculative light gleamed in her eyes.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Sam exclaimed. “I’m dead on my feet, and besides, you’re too busy to take time off.”

  “Maybe yes and maybe no.” Beth smiled enigmatically as she made a hasty exit.

  “What’s going on with you two?” Brice inquired. He glanced at the menu.

  “Nothing—absolutely nothing.” No way was Beth going to talk her into doing a belly dance routine. That was out of the question. She perused the menu for several moments. “The chicken and lemon soup is fabulous. In fact, everything’s good here.”

  Before Brice had a chance to answer, Sean appeared and sank into a chair at their table. “Glad you decided to stop by. We’re booked to the rafters and Eve’s sick. I have two large parties coming in at eight expecting a duo. What a mess.” He shook his head tiredly.

  Sam couldn’t help feeling sorry for Sean. His distress was easy to read. “Can you call another singer to sub for her?”

  “Nah, not at this hour.” Rousing himself, he said, “The lamb and onion stew is on special tonight. It’s one of our signature dishes.”

  “That sounds good to me.” Brice put the menu down. “What about you?” He turned to Sam.

  Sam said, “I’m having the Greek salad.”

  “Is that all?” Brice asked.

  “With the soup it’ll be fine.” She might as well watch her waistline, even though she was starving.

  The waitress brought a basket of freshly baked bread and filled their water glasses. “What would you like to drink?”

  “The drinks are on me,” Sean said firmly. “I’ll pick out one of our finest red wines. It will complement the lamb dish.” He rose and disappeared into the kitchen.

  Brice spread butter on a thick slice of bread and took a bite. “Mmmm, good stuff. Want any?” He pushed the basket in her direction.

  God, it was tempting. Shaking her head, Sam took a large sip of water. “Maybe later.” She could cheat a little when the salad appeared.

  “Are you on a diet or something? You don’t need to lose any weight. I like women with flesh on their bones. You know, the Rubens nude type.” He winked at her with a sly expression.

  “For their time they may have been attractive. Now they’d be considered obese.” Sam hoped he wouldn’t pursue the subject, as it made her uncomfortable. She felt like he was playing some kind of cat and mouse game.

  “Obese? You gotta be kidding. Those women were sexy as hell, although the Renoir women were a close second. I love the flesh tones the two painters used on those voluptuous forms.”

  He was almost salivating while he made that pronouncement, Sam thought, irritated at the turn their conversation was taking. Fortunately, the waitress arrived with a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and two glasses.

  “Compliments of the house.” She poured them each a drink.

  “Shall we make a toast?” Brice held up his glass.

  She shrugged nonchalantly. “Whatever.”

  He ignored her lack of enthusiasm. “To a wonderful night ahead.” He clicked his glass against hers.

  Was it her overheated imagination or was he leering? What was he expecting? “Uh, sure,” she stammered, taking a sip of wine. Now she was sorry she’d agreed to a night out with him. If she had the courage, she’d enjoy the meal and then take a taxi home, solo.

  Beth appeared at their table with two bowls of chicken and lemon soup. “I know you must be starved. Sean is expediting your main cours
e.”

  “We don’t mind a leisurely meal.” Sam sent her friend a suspicious glance. Why was Beth eager to have them finish dinner? Was she still intent on performing that belly dance routine? If so, she’d do it on her own. With this decision, Sam relaxed.

  They were just finishing the main course when a dark-haired man in a peasant-style shirt and black pants carrying a guitar made his appearance. “Hi, Sam,” he said taking a seat. “You must be Sean’s cousin.” He turned to Brice and extended a hand. “I’m Eddie.”

  “I’m sorry Eve’s sick.” Sam pushed her empty plate away. Eddie’s usually cheerful expression was muted.

  “Sam, I know this is short notice,” Eddie began hesitantly.

  Immediately, Sam knew what was coming. “Please, I’m not prepared to do any dancing tonight. I’ve been on my feet all day.”

  “Just a short number?” he coaxed. “I’ll be forever grateful.” Glancing at Brice, he added, “She’s dynamite in that belly dance routine. The audience goes wild, believe me.”

  Brice’s eyes lit with anticipation. “C’mon, Sam, I’d love to see you in action.” He refilled her wine glass for the third time.

  As if on cue, Beth joined them. “I took our costumes out and your wig. One of the other girls is taking my place as hostess. Would you reconsider?” She sent Sam a beseeching look.

  Feeling cornered, Sam glanced from one eager face to another. Did she have a choice? Beth and Sean were her closest friends. How could she disappoint them? “Oh, all right,” she muttered. Maybe it was that third glass of wine. She felt a bit mellower.

  “Let’s get started then,” Beth said. “We have to do our makeup and put those hair pieces on properly. Maybe Brice can video the performance.”

  “Sure, I’ll volunteer. Does Sean have a camera?” Brice stood up, eager to be of service.

  “Oh, Beth, let’s not bother. A couple of photos would be enough,” Sam protested. “Besides, it makes me nervous if someone’s filming us.”

  “Whatever you say.” She turned to Brice for a moment and whispered something Sam couldn’t decipher. “C’mon then, we’d better hurry.”

  Dressed in layers of blue and green veils with long black hair swirling about her shoulders, Sam practiced a few steps as she clicked her castanets. “It’s been almost six months since we performed. I wonder if I’ll remember our routine.”

  “Stop worrying and relax. We’ve never had trouble improvising before,” Beth said. “Besides, Eddie will be eternally grateful for our help. Whatever we do will be a novelty for the crowd. Remember that.”

  ~ ~ ~

  “I thought we were going to a house party.” Lara Jensen did not look pleased.

  Jordan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The evening was not starting out well. “Scott called earlier and said the kids were both sick with chicken pox. Therefore, the festivities have been moved to a restaurant. I didn’t think it made any difference.”

  “What restaurant?”

  “Does it matter?” He opened the car door for her. God, she was in a bitchy mood. If he had the guts, he’d tell her to stay home and go on his own. He’d probably have a better time.

  “Of course it matters,” she snapped. “Scott doesn’t have the best taste in food. The place he picked is probably a dump, like that Indian restaurant he took us to.”

  Jordan didn’t bother to answer as he slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

  “Well, did he give you the name of the place?”

  “He did. It’s the Blue Monkey in the East Village. Listen, if you’re uncomfortable about it, maybe we should stay home. We can order Chinese food and watch a movie or something.” He shut off the ignition and turned to her.

  “Oh, no you don’t.” She glared at him. “I finally get a night out with you, and I’m not spending it watching TV and eating lousy Chinese takeout.”

  “Is that your final decision?” He didn’t care one way or another at this point.

  “Yes, it is,” she stated firmly.

  He set the car in motion and headed downtown. This was going to be one long, miserable night. He was sure of it. Glancing at Lara’s profile, he noted the taut set of her jaw and mouth. Ordinarily he enjoyed the sight of her classic look and sleek shoulder-length blonde hair. Lara had that Grace Kelly aura, one he usually admired. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Tonight there was a hardness to the set of her head and a rigidity to her shoulders. He often stayed at her house on Saturday nights. Sunday was the one day he slept in. Did he want to be with her this Saturday night? While he pondered that loaded question, they drove in silence to their destination.

  “Is this the place?” Lara glanced out the window while Jordan pulled into a parking spot. “Looks pretty dingy, if you ask me.”

  He was about to make a sharp retort, but he stopped himself. There was no point sparring with her. “I’ve heard the food is exceptional, and they do have music, which is a plus. If we don’t like it, we can leave early.”

  “Oh, all right,” she muttered.

  Jordan took her arm as they entered the restaurant. “Scott reserved a table for eight. He should be here by now.”

  A young woman came up to them. “Do you have reservations?”

  “Yes. They should be in Scott Madden’s name.” Jordan glanced around as he tried to locate his friends.

  “Come with me, and I’ll show you to your table.”

  At least there was no mix-up on that score, he thought morosely. And at least he’d be with friends for the rest of the evening. Lara could just stay in that pissy mood. He was determined to enjoy himself. The place looked slightly bohemian, but if the food and entertainment were good, it would be fine.

  ~ ~ ~

  The music for their belly dance routine started. Sam and Beth glided out, hips swaying, castanets clicking, and veils swirling around them. Applause erupted as they circled the small stage and began their dance. Sam forgot everything but the pleasure of this sensuous movement. Before long, the veils were discarded while the two dancers made their way around the tables. They stopped every once in a while to perform for a particular group of people. Sometimes one of the men would get up and try to dance with them. This resulted in howls of laughter from the others.

  Sam was completely into the mood of her dance and, in the dim lighting, did not recognize the man who rose to join her as she stopped at his table. Tall, dark-haired and agile, he moved with her to the provocative strains of the music. When her hips gyrated, his did as well, often coming into contact with hers. Their duo must have lasted all of one minute, but something about the man made an impression. His friends applauded loudly when she finally danced away to another group.

  ~ ~ ~

  Jordan was captivated by the tall, voluptuous belly dancer moving about the small dance floor. Her long dark hair and dark eyes were exotic, he thought, as he watched her intently. When she appeared at his table, he rose to join her in the dance. He saw other men do this and decided, on the spur of the moment, to participate as well. The heat from her body flowed into his as he followed her movements and initiated some of his own. The few times his hips touched her, a jolt of electricity pierced him. Quite amazing. He was sorry when she moved on to another table. Who was she? He had to find out.

  ~ ~ ~

  “He wanted your name and phone number,” Beth told Sam as they freshened up in the ladies’ room of the Blue Monkey. “Of course I wouldn’t give it to him, although he’s a good-looking hunk. You must’ve made quite an impact on the guy.” She sent Sam a sly look.

  Sam knew who he was. Due to the dim lighting, it took a few moments for his identity to register. She was aware of the currents of energy flowing between them and the way his body connected to hers. The look of admiration in his dark eyes was a stark contrast to the scorn she’d seen in them before
. She didn’t know his name but never forgot how humiliated that tai chi instructor made her feel.

  “You did the right thing,” she said. “I don’t want to see the man again.”

  Beth’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You sound pretty adamant. What did he do to you? Did he try to grope you or something?”

  Sam shook her head. “Nothing like that. Can we forget about it?” She applied some lipstick and fussed with the dark wig. “I do look like a different person with this black hair. Maybe my personality changes when I’m in costume.”

  Beth eyed her thoughtfully. “You might be right. Anyway, Brice couldn’t keep his eyes off you. He managed to take some photos, too.” Then, with a serious expression, she added, “Sam, I have a hunch he’s really taken with you. How do you feel?”

  Sam shrugged. “To be honest, he’s a nice guy, but I can’t see us being more than friends. You know I’m not in the market for a relationship. I’ve told you that often enough.” One of these days Beth would give up the manhunt and leave her alone.

  “I’ll bet if the right one comes along you’ll change your tune. I’m sorry sparks aren’t flying from you to Brice, but I do understand. Besides, as you say, he lives in the Midwest, and your heart is in Manhattan.”

  “Sounds like a song,” Sam said. “Let’s get back to our table. I heard Brice ordering dessert and coffee. Then we’ll have to leave. I have a pile of stuff to take care of tomorrow.”

  When they joined Brice and Sean at their table, Brice couldn’t stop staring at Sam. “You’re something else,” he exclaimed. “That was one sexy dance, I’ll tell you.”