“Would you cut that out?” Holly said, flopping back against the soft cushions of the couch. “It’s bad enough I went out with him.”
“To die for, huh?” Julia asked, raising her eyebrows.
“Our own videotape of the show will be delivered here this afternoon, so you can judge for yourself. But, yes, definitely to die for. If I were that shallow.”
“Sweetie, we’re
all
that shallow. Gorgeous is gorgeous. Is he nice?”
Holly felt her cheeks growing hot. “Yeah, he is. Nice.” Then she shook her head. “But he’s not for me. I’m not going down that road again. It’s a dead end.”
“Did he ask to see you again? Did he kiss you goodnight?”
“What? You’re writing a book now, Julia?” Holly asked, getting up from the couch, beginning to pace. “We had hamburgers and fries, took a walk through the park, talked and he kissed me good-night. End of
story.”
Julia shifted slightly on the couch, putting a hand on her ankle and pulling her legs up closer beside her. “He kissed you good-night. Ah. And did you kiss him back? Open mouth or closed? Details, Holly. I’m an old married woman now, and I need to take my thrills w
h
ere I can find them.”
“Oh, yeah, right. You’re married to Max Rafferty, one of the most sinfully handsome men of this or any millennium, and
you
need thrills? Give me a break.”
“Open mouth,” Julia decided, grinning. “Definitely Open mouth.”
“You’re impossible!”
“And you’re blushing. Oh, Momma Hollis will be so happy. Now, come on, I don’t want to wait for the videotape. Besides, you’re so good at description. Describe him for me, Holly. Do it with movie stars.”
Holly gave in and gave up. She wanted to talk about Harry. She was dying to talk about Harry. “Movie stars? Okay. But only to keep you happy. Hair and eyes? Tom Cruise. Definitely Tom Cruise. Straight hair, the kind that falls forward on the guy’s forehead, so that your hands just
itch
to sweep it back for him. Those
same sort of flyaway eyebrows low over—God, the
bluest
eyes.”
“Keep going,” Julia urged. “I’m getting a mental picture here.”
“What? Cruise’s eyes and hair aren’t enough for you? Okay, we travel down to the nose. Whose nose? Not Matt Damon’s. It’s more patrician than that. Slim, straight, but with the sexiest bumped-out thing to it. Sort of hawklike, but classy. I know—Paul Newman. He’ll
never
be too old for me!”
Julia narrowed her eyes. “Don’t both Paul and Tom pretty much have the same kind of nose?”
“I know, I’m trying for variety here. Mouth
…
definitely George Clooney’s mouth and chin. And he smiles like Clooney, too, so that the skin around his eyes kind of crinkles up and you just know he’s thinking something absolutely delicious.” Holly waved a hand in front of her face. “Is it getting warm in here?”
Julia collapsed against the couch cushions, giggling. “All right, the grand finale. He’s got this
body.
I mean, does he have this
body.
Tall, slim, but muscular. Broad shoulders, but not out of proportion to the rest of him. He’s even got great knees.”
“Knees?” Julia sat up again, obviously paying close attention, even through her giggling. “And how, Holly, do you know about his
knees?”
Holly went down on her own knees, tried to make herself look busy as she gathered up the soft velour throw little Max had been lying on, the few toys scattered
on it. “I sort of…
I sort of took off his pants.”
“You sort of took off his
pants?
No, no,” Julia said,
erasing her words as she wiped a hand in the air. “I’m not going to interrupt. Go on. Tell me.”
Sighing, Holly remembered that she’d already known she was going to have to tell Julia the whole sto
r
y. The whole miserable, embarrassing story. She was only surprised Julia hadn’t pulled out a tape recorder, to preserve Holly’s embarrassment for posterity.
“He wore maroon briefs,” she ended a few minutes later, as Julia was reaching for a box of tissues, wiping at her streaming eyes. “Have you ever thought of a line of men’s underwear, Julia. Because, if you have, have I got the model for you!”
“Oh, Lordy, Lordy,” Julia chortled, dabbing the tissue under her eyes, careful not to smudge her mascara. “Only you, Holly.
Take off your pants.
And you actually
said
that to the man?”
“While I was on my knees in front of him, trying to untie his shoes, yes. It wasn’t one of my better moments, I grant you, but we only had a couple of minutes to get him into the tuxedo. I doubt he took it personally.”
“No, of course not,” Julia said, shaking her head. “He only laid one on you right on the runway. He only asked you for a date right after the showing. I doubt he had a single idea in his head at all.”
“He kissed me, yes,” Holly said quietly. “But on the runway it was for the cameras, and then later, when he’d walked me back to the hotel—which meant nothing. What was he going to do? Shake my hand? It was a date. He kissed me good-night.”
“The cad,” Julia said, giggling.
“Okay, okay, so I liked it. I liked
him.
But nothing
is going to come of it, because I’m not going to
let
anything come of it. No more models, Julia. I took an oath. Never again will I date anyone prettier than me. I even embroidered it on a pillow somewhere. Or I would have, if I could embroider.”
Julia closed her eyes, shook her head.
“
You gave him your card, didn’t you?” she asked, then sighed. “Holly, you’re transparent, you poor thing. And I’m just betting you gave him your card.”
Holly bent her head, rubbed at her forehead. “You ought to set up shop on Forty-second Street, Julia. See all, know all, tell all. How do you do it?”
“Because you’re transparent, remember?” Julia repeated. “And, even though you’ll never admit it, you’re a bo
rn
romantic. Has he called yet?”
“No, he hasn’t called me yet,” Holly said, knowing her cell phone was in her pocket, fully charged, and turned on. “And I’m not so sure I want him to call, to tell you the truth.”
“Yes, See All, Know All Julia also sensed that. But, Holly, you can’t lump all male models, or all men, into one category, that category being Untrustworthy. Because that’s your problem, Holly. You don’t trust men. You don’t trust yourself to know a good relationship from a bad one. You don’t trust your own heart, or your own motives. Stop me anytime here, Holly.”
“I can’t,” Holly said, collapsing onto the couch once more. “I can’t, because you’re right. I don’t trust men. Your Max and my dad are the only two good examples I have of trustworthy men.”
“And my dad,” Julia added.
“Right, and your dad. But Helen’s John? Oh, he
swears it will never happen again, and he’s been good for about five years now, but Helen was nearly destroyed when she found out about his gambling. They nearly lost the house, remember?”
“I think you’re confusing trustworthiness with human frailty. John had a problem, and he licked it. That’s commendable.”
“Sure,” Holly said, nodding her head. “But he didn’t tell Helen until th
ey were flat broke and the elec
tricity was turned off. He just kept saying he’d been paying the bills, when he’d actually been betting on football. Helen still keeps the checkbook, because as much as she loves him, she can’t quite trust him. Then there’s Harry.”
“Harry Hampshire.”
“No, Harry Hollis, my big, dumb brother,” Holly corrected. “Or have you forgotten that time he took his secretary with him for a business conference in Las Vegas? Monkey business. Janet forgave him, I don’t know how, but she still doesn’t trust him and it’s been three years. Now imagine a guy who looks like Harry— Hampshire this time—set loose in a world of secretaries and whatever. Just the thought makes my skin crawl.”
“I think I see where this is going,” Julia said, munching on a slice of buttered whole wheat toast that had gone cold at least an hour earlie
r. “
But your brother Herb never cheated on Nancy. And you never said he gambles. So, tell me, what’s his fatal flaw?”
“Herb?” Holly shrugged her shoulders. “Okay, so he’s one of the good guys, too. There’s
lots
of good guys. I know that. And Richard only cheated on me
with himself—definitely more in love with himself and his good looks than he could ever be with any woman.”
“Yes, now I definitely see where this is going,” Julia said quietly. “You are talking about trust, Holly, but that’s only a part of it. You want to be the center of some man’s universe, don’t you? You want him to love and trust you, you want to love and be able to trust him. You want honesty, complete and utter honesty. More so, being a Cancer, you crave security. And, sadly, because you’ve been burned a couple of times in the past, and because of examples you’ve seen in your own family, you don’t seem to think you’ll ever get it. How am I doing?”
“I think I should never have loaned you that book on the Zodiac,” Holly grumbled, crossing her arms under her breasts. “Maybe it’s because I was number four, the youngest child in the family. Maybe I missed out a little on being special, being the center of someone’s universe—although, for the past five years or so, I’ve been wishing my mother would give me a little
less
attention. But you have to remember, Julia, I am a Cancer. So I’m moody and self-pitying and full of uncertainty. Oh, and terribly overdramatic, a real live drama queen. All that good stuff.”
“Yes, and you also have infinite patience, you could persuade rain to fall upward, and you’re loving and sensitive, as well as fairly brilliant and original. You’re so organized you could successfully herd cats, you’re open and honest and sometimes brutally frank, and you’re the most
loyal
person I’ve ever met. Oh, and you get along best with Pisces, Scorpio—that’s me—and Taurus. I’m
afraid that’s al
l I’ve got, but I can pul
l
out that book for you if you can find out Harry Hampshire’s sign.”
“Very funny,” Holly said, trying hard not to slip into one of her “pity me” moods, moods she’d learned to control since her rather turbulent teenage years.
“
But it doesn’t matter what his sign is, because I’m
not
going to allow myself to become involved with another male model. You listed my good and bad traits, Julia, but I didn’t notice ‘deliberately bangs her head against stone walls’ anywhere.”
“But you’d still consider a handsome man, if he
wasn’t
a male model?” Julia asked, and something in the tone of her voice alerted Holly that, contrary to what she’d thought, she and Julia weren’t just having a girl-to-girl talk.
She pulled her legs up onto the couch cushion and turned to her friend. “Okay, spill it. It’s Max again, isn’t it? Whose cousin’s sister-in-law’s oldest boy is coming here today for lunch? A nice boy. A lawyer, maybe a doctor. Come on, Julia, tell me. Max is doing it to me again, isn’t he? He’s matchmaking again, isn’t he?”
“No!” Julia exclaimed, then averted her eyes. “Okay, yes, he’s doi
ng it again. But you’ll like Coli
n, honestly you will. He’s intelligent,
extremely
successful, comes from a good family—Max has a wonderful family, you know. I guess his only drawback, if you can call it a drawback—and I know you will—is that Colin is quite handsome. Quite handsome,” she ended, actually wincing.
“Colin? I don't remember that name.”
“Sure you do, Holly. It’s Max’s cousin, Colin Rafferty.”
“Oh God, another Rafferty. Save me from another Rafferty. You can handle Max, but you’re a Scorpion. An insecure Cancer would be running for the hills
…
which is what I’m going to do now, b
ecause you have invited this Coli
n guy here for lunch today, right?”
“Maybe,” Julia admitted. “Possibly, if Max found him at his hotel. He only got into New York yesterday, and we’ve been playing phone tag ever since, unfortunately. Please, Holly, stay. Max will be back soon.”
“All right, don’t beg. It’s so unbecoming,” Holly teased. “But I still want to be on the road back
to Al
lentown tonight, tomorrow morning at the latest. So don’t let Max try to fix us up, okay? I mean, you do remember the fiasco with Max’s third cousin’s son?”
“Bruce? Oh, yes, I remember. Who knew a guy with three degrees in computer science could have that many hands?”
“And very limber fingers, probably from all that typing,” Holly said. “Do you know how difficult it was for me to have to tell Max that I bopped his cousin over the head with his own laptop as we drove back from the theater? Bruce said he couldn’t help himself, he was overcome with emotion after watching the show. We saw
Cats,
for crying out loud! That guy was just plain oversexed.”
“And very underloved, by you,” Julia said with a smile, arranging cups on the silver tray and getting ready to return everything to the kitchen. “He went back to Iowa the very next morning, with Max still
roaring in his ear all the way to the airport, poor thing. Max apologized to you.”