by Jane Graves
A short, balding man slid into the booth beside Frank. He wore a suit, carried a briefcase, and his pinched expression said that antacids were one of his four major food groups.
Yep. Frank was ready to get down to business.
Tony grabbed his beer, gave Jodie a wink, and slid off the barstool. This was it. A deal in the making. In just a few minutes, he’d be one step closer to making his dream come true.
“Bridesmaid dresses are supposed to be ugly,” Alison said, as she twirled the spear of olives in her martini glass. “It’s the law.”
Heather took a healthy sip of her own martini, hoping by the time she got to the bottom of the glass, the memory of those dresses would be obliterated.
Oh, hell. Who was she kidding? She could chug an entire bottle of gin and she still wouldn’t be able to forget.
“It wasn’t just that the style was weird,” she said. “It was the color, too. They were pink.”
Alison’s forehead crinkled. “Pink’s not really your color.”
“That pink wasn’t anybody’s color. Take a blender. Throw in a chunk of watermelon. Toss in a dozen flamingo feathers. Top it off with a bottle of Pepto-Bismol. Hit the button, and there you go.”
“How about we make a pact?” Alison said. “When we get married, we have veto power over each other’s bridesmaid dresses. That’ll lessen the chances of either one of us making a tragic mistake.”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Heather said.
They locked pinky fingers, entering into the umpteenth pact they’d made since junior high. The first one had been a pinky swear that unless both of them got dates to the Christmas dance neither one of them would go, which turned out to be a non-issue since nobody asked either one of them.
“Do you remember when we were in high school,” Alison said, “and we made lists of the qualities we wanted in the men we married?”
Heather remembered. Her list had included intelligent, well-dressed, and good sense of humor. Alison’s list had consisted of nice body, good kisser, and well-hung. Even though they’d both been virgins at the time, Alison’s intuition told her that size really did matter.
“Yeah,” Heather said. “I wanted a professional man. You wanted a porn star.”
“Hey! Stamina is a very worthwhile quality in a man. I mean, if it’s over in five minutes, then what’s the point of—” She stopped short, her eyes following something across the room. “Oh, my,” she said. “Speaking of men we’d like to marry . . .”
Heather turned to see one of McMillan’s regulars slide into a booth across the room. Her heart always skipped a little whenever she saw him, but only because there were certain basic reactions a woman couldn’t fight. Looking at Tony McCaffrey led to heart rhythm disruptions every time, in spite of his reputation with women. Or maybe because of it.
“Please,” Heather said. “Marriage? A man like him?”
“You’re right. Forget marriage. I’d settle for a nice, steamy affair.”
Which was about all a man like Tony would be able to deliver, since guys like him were all about playing the field. With those captivating green eyes and dazzling smile, he could have a woman stark naked before she knew what hit her.
“Yeah, he’s gorgeous, all right,” Heather said. “But would you really want a man like him?”
“Please. Would you kick him out of bed?”
“I’d never go to bed with him in the first place.”
Alison rolled her eyes. “You are such a liar.”
“No, I’m not. I like men with brains. Guys like him are so good-looking they’ve never had to rely on anything else.”
“I don’t know about you,” Alison said, “but I’d be having sex with the man, not asking him to derive a new law of physics.”
“Fine. Why don’t you hop over there and see if he’s free tonight?”
“Right,” Alison said. “And the entire time we were talking, he’d be looking over my shoulder at one of the waitresses’ butts.”
“Exactly. What’s the future with a guy like him?”
“Forget the future. I’d be perfectly willing to take him one night at a time.” Alison sighed wistfully. “Why is it women like us never get men like him?”
“Because we’re B-cups with three-digit IQs.”
“Seriously. Look what we have to offer. We’re college graduates. We have good jobs with 401(k)s. We own real estate. We’re not in therapy. Maybe we’re not Miss America material, but we don’t scare small children, do we?”
Heather frowned. “Next you’re going to say we have good personalities and childbearing hips.”
“Trouble is, we have boring professions. You’re an accountant, and I’m a loan officer. What man wants to date either one of those?”
“So what should we do? Become flight attendants? Exotic dancers? Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders?”
“I was thinking Hooters girls. Just once I’d like a man to love me for my body instead of my mind.”
And that was exactly what it took to get the attention of a man like Tony: a hot body in low-slung jeans and a tight T-shirt that showed off perky breasts, a belly-button ring, and a small-of-the-back tattoo. A woman whose intelligence was inversely proportional to her bra size.
“Hmm,” Alison said, glancing over at the booth where Tony sat. “Looks like they’re having a serious discussion over there.”
“If it’s men, and they’re serious, it’s probably about football. One of the Cowboys must have blown out his knee in the preseason.”
Tracy swung by and asked if they wanted another martini. Heather just asked for the check.
“Leaving so soon?” Alison asked.
“Soon as I finish this one. I have to get up early in the morning so I won’t have to fight traffic on the way to the airport.”
“So you’re actually going on the bridesmaids’ trip? You said you’d rather sit through a time share presentation in Death Valley.”
“Well, it is a free trip, and I’ve never been to Vegas.” Then she sighed. “And my mother really wants me to go. It reminds me of when she wanted me try out for the high school drill team.”
“So you could be around all the popular girls?”
“I think she’s hoping if I hang out with Regina and the other bridesmaids, there’ll be men all over the place. That way at least I’ll have a shot at getting one of their castoffs.”
“Actually,” Alison said, “that’s not a bad plan.”
“Wrong. It’s the sign of a desperate woman. And my mother is more desperate than most. It drives me crazy.”
But if Heather were honest with herself, the reason it drove her crazy was because she was beginning to feel a little desperate herself. The closer she got to thirty, the more she felt a million years of evolution bearing down on her. No, she’d didn’t want Og smacking her over the head with his club and dragging her back to his cave to make little Oggies, but she wasn’t immune to the forces of nature. A forward-moving relationship with a man that eventually led to marriage would be nice, but so far it hadn’t happened.
She glanced back at Tony. Yeah, he was hot, all right, but men like him had never been part of her dreams, just as she’d never been part of theirs. She’d always figured that the man she married probably wouldn’t be all that handsome, but he would be reasonably attractive. He might not be wickedly charming, but he’d certainly be a good conversationalist. They’d settle down, have a couple of kids, take summer vacations, and plan for retirement.
Heather had always prided herself on being a realist, and that was reality.
As Frank’s attorney pulled the contract from his briefcase and slid it across the table, Tony’s heart beat like crazy. Just getting his hands on this document made him feel as if it was already a done deal.
He’d never been like other single guys who squandered their money. He had a nice amount in savings, and the small investments he’d made had turned out well. Still, giving him a loan to run an establishment like this when he’d never
been in business for himself was a risk most bankers didn’t want to take. So when Frank offered to owner-finance the deal, he couldn’t believe his good luck.
Tony flipped through a few more pages of the contract, itching to pick up a pen and sign it, dying to make this place his.
Then he saw something that jolted him out of his euphoria.
“Wait a minute,” he said, pointing at one of the figures. “This isn’t the down payment we agreed on. This is twenty thousand more than that.”
“We were just talking last week,” Frank said. “I was estimating.”
Tony held up his palm. “Hold on. Are you expecting me to come up with another twenty grand on top of what we already talked about?”
“Sorry, man. Turns out the wife’s got her eye on a beachfront condo on Galveston Island. I gotta have more cash.”
Tony’s stomach sank all the way to the floor. “But you know I’m pushing it as it is. Where am I supposed to come up with another twenty thousand?”
“I’m just telling you what I gotta have. That’s all.”
“Would you take a second mortgage instead? Short term?”
Frank shook his head. “I need the money up front.”
Tony sat back in the booth, trying to get his bearings, his mind spinning like crazy trying to imagine where he could come up with an additional twenty thousand. Nothing was coming to him.
“Can you give me a little more time?” he asked. “A few weeks? Maybe a month? I’ll find a way to get the money.”
Frank sighed. “I can give you until Monday.”
“Monday? This Monday? But it’s already Thursday.”
Frank took one last drag on his cigarette, then stabbed it out. “Here’s the truth, Tony. Another buyer contacted me yesterday. He offered to give me the up-front money I need.”
Tony felt sick. Another buyer?
“But I still want to give you first shot at it,” Frank said. “If you can get the money together by Monday, the place is yours. If not, I’m going to have to take the other offer.”
“Come on, Frank! I’ve spent more money in this place in the past three years than all of your other customers put together! Shouldn’t that count for something?”
“Course it does. But I gotta think of myself. And the wife. Believe me, buddy. If she ain’t happy, nobody’s happy.”
The lawyer reached for the contract. “So the deal’s off the table?”
“No!” Tony said. “Not yet.” He turned to Frank. “Promise me you won’t do anything until Monday.”
“Sure, man. Like I said, I’ll hold the deal. If you can find the money, the place is all yours.”
Tony nodded. Frank and his attorney slid out of the booth, leaving Tony alone with his beer, his frustration, and a dream that was falling apart at the seams.
He sat there a long time, trying to formulate a plan, but nothing came to him. He was completely tapped out himself, and he knew of no one he could borrow that kind of money from, particularly on short notice. No friends, and certainly no family members.
He didn’t own a house, so a home equity loan was out.
He glanced over at the pool tables. He had no doubt he could bet on a few games and come out a winner, but betting on pool in a neighborhood bar wouldn’t net him twenty grand until the beginning of the next millennium, much less by Monday.
He dropped his head to his hands for a moment, letting out a breath of disappointment. By the time this place came up for sale again, he’d probably be collecting Social Security.
Then slowly he raised his head again as a thought occurred to him. There was a way he could conceivably put twenty thousand dollars in his pocket before Monday. Betting on pool might be out, but there were other kinds of gambling . . .
No. He was crazy even to consider it.
But as the minutes passed and his desperation grew, even a crazy plan seemed better than no plan. It was a long shot—such a ridiculous long shot that no reasonable man would even consider doing it—but it was his only shot at keeping this opportunity from passing him by.
He took out his cell phone, dialed American Airlines, and booked a flight to Las Vegas, praying that Lady Luck would follow him all the way there.
THE DISH
Where authors give you the inside scoop!
From the desk of Michelle Rowen
Dear Reader,
I have a confession to make.
Sarah Dearly, the main character from my novels BITTEN & SMITTEN and FANGED & FABULOUS (on sale now), thinks she’s in control, and she is!
When I first conceived of my book about an “everygal” who becomes a vampire after a blind date from hell, Sarah was just a bookworm introvert who longed for a more exciting life. But as soon as I started writing, she let me know that she was no bookworm. More of a DVD aficionado with a love of fashion who uses sarcasm as her greatest weapon. And, she liked her life just fine the way it was.
She had two guys to choose from in the first book, BITTEN & SMITTEN. I said, “Hey, Sarah, you’re going to end up with Cute Guy #1.” And she said, “No, I want Cute Guy #2.” I told her I was planning to kill him at the end. She then kicked up a huge fuss claiming that “she loved him,” so I let him live because he was just too hot to die.
Then I got the chance to continue her story in
FANGED & FABULOUS. Sarah still wants to do things differently than I had planned. And she still has a very specific idea of whom she wants to end up with. She thinks that since I put her through so much stress and in life-threatening situations and that as a vampire she has to drink blood (which is a totally gross concept) that I “owe her.”
Stubborn characters. Sheesh.
Now if you’ll excuse me, the men in white coats have arrived to take me away.
Happy Reading!
www.michellerowen.com
From the desk of Wendy Markham
It’s just an hour from New York, but for newly transplanted Manhattanite Meg Addams from LOVE, SUBURBAN STYLE (on sale now), suburban Glenhaven Park feels as challenging—and remote—as the northern Adirondacks. So our heroine adapted the following handy resource:
Wilderness Suburban Survival Guide
Even the most savvy hiker single mom can wind up stranded in the middle of nowhere. Be prepared to combat any of these commonly found wilderness suburban threats:
Predators
You never know what creatures might lurk in the forest Starbucks or stream in the soccer field bleachers: venomous snakes snobs, cunning coyote yoga moms, or maybe even a ferocious bear PMS victim. Just remember, if you don’t bother it, it won’t bother you. But if all else fails, run! offer chocolate, preferably Godiva.
Hunger and Thirst
Foraging may yield mushrooms decent pizza or berries a diner that serves cheeseburgers (just make sure they’re not poisonous made of soy). Remember, insects tofu burgers and even grubs low-fat veggie-sprout sandwich wraps may be unappetizing, but they are edible. With luck, you’ll find a stream friendly local pub nearby, where you can indulge in plenty of life-sustaining water frozen margaritas.
Loneliness and Isolation
Being alone in the wilderness a rundown fixer-upper with only wildlife a moody teenager for company can drive anyone crazy. It’s crucial to keep your mind and body active turn to your nearest neighbor for adult companionship, even if he is your unrequited high school crush.
Cold
Perhaps exposure a broken heart is the most dangerous threat of all. Before embarking on a wilderness adventure new romance, always learn how to create a spark, and gradually, without smothering the flames, build a fire that will burn indefinitely.
If you follow this guide, not only will you survive the wilderness suburbia; you might even thrive fall in love with the dad next door!
Happy Reading!
www.wendycorsistaub.com
From the desk of Jane Graves
Dear Reader,
Maybe I shouldn’t admit this, but I love torturing my characters. That
sounds sadistic, but let’s face it. Watching polite people in ordinary situations be sweetie-nice to each other is a bore. Watching strong people face challenges and overcome them—now, that’s entertaining. After all, would we watch all that reality TV if everybody got along?
Here’s another truth: My characters don’t think what’s happening to them is funny, but trust me, it is. Did Lucy Ricardo think it was funny when she was trying to make candy, but the conveyor belt went so fast she couldn’t keep up? No! Did Bill Murray’s character in Groundhog Day think it was funny when every day was not a new day? No! But, we laughed, didn’t we?
Darcy McDaniel, the heroine of HOT WHEELS AND HIGH HEELS (on sale now), is facing the biggest challenge of her life. Her wealthy husband sends her on a vacation with a friend and, in her absence, cleans out their bank accounts, sells their house, and disappears.
Darcy is terrified of being destitute, but tough times call for tough measures. When ex-cop turned
repo man John Stark repossesses her beloved Mercedes, she starts working for her sexy adversary with the goal of moving from receptionist to repo agent so she can make some decent money. However, John refuses to turn a spoiled ex–trophy wife loose to legally steal cars, and soon, their battle of wits and sexual one-upsmanship burn hotter than a bonfire out of control.
I require all my characters to have one quality: No matter how hard they’re hit, they get back up again. And the results will leave you laughing. Pick up a copy of HOT WHEELS AND HIGH HEELS, and ride along with John and Darcy on their rocky road to happily ever after!
Enjoy!
www.janegraves.com