Scanning the article, Cali lifted both brows, whether in judgment or in consideration it was hard to tell. “Okay. I can understand where you’re coming from. Having a Man To Do does sound tempting.” She caught the corner of her lower lip between her teeth and chewed, then flipped to the second page. “It’s just the idea of going for it that would freeze me up. I am too much of a wuss.”
“A wuss? You? When did that happen and where was I that I missed it?” Cali’s attraction for Will was obviously giving her more trouble than she’d admitted to Erin. And, yeah. Erin could see how it would be tough, deciding whether to answer the call of body or brain.
She gave her best friend an encouraging smile. “You have more guts than anyone I know. That’s why I let you hang out with me. I need the moral support and the example. Plus, you make me look really good.”
“Does that mean I need to go after Will to show you how it’s done?” Cali giggled, her laughter holding a twinge of desperate hysteria to go with her way too-wide eyes.
Aiming to jolt Cali’s self-esteem, Erin socked the other woman’s shoulder. “It hasn’t been that long, moron. I still know the basic tab A into slot B, how-to-ride-abicycle mechanics. It’s just…”
Cali picked up Erin’s trailing sentence. “It’s just what?”
Sighing, Erin leaned back against her desk, a hand on either side of her hips. “It’s just that damn female inclination to involve emotions. And I don’t want to get emotional about this. I don’t want to get distracted and obsess over what to wear and whether or not I need to shave and if he’s going to call.”
Cali simply shrugged. “So,
you
call. And wear what
you
want to wear. And go prickly if you don’t feel like shaving. If this is going to be a purely sexual liaison, then don’t wig out playing mental games with yourself.”
Erin nodded. Her girlfriend was right. Uncertainty had no place in her personality. Or her plans. Setting her sights on a Man To Do was the perfect example of a positive step toward solving a particular problem. It was not an issue requiring an undue measure of emotional angst.
In fact, it didn’t require anything but the involvement of her very ready and needy body. She could do this. She would do this, she thought, and stomped her foot for emphasis. “You’re right. I’m not going to wig out. In fact, this is going to be nothing but fun and games.”
“Good girl.” With a sigh of finality as she glanced at the article and a shrug as she closed the pages, Cali handed the magazine back to Erin. “If it goes well for you, who knows? Maybe I’ll give it a go.”
“With Will, right?” Erin so wanted to see the couple together but it was her turn to worry about Cali wigging out over a friend and relationship she couldn’t afford to lose.
“We’ll see.” Cali headed for the door, stopping with her hand on the doorknob. “I think I’ll put my study skills to use and observe you from afar, take notes, analyze, form hypotheses and all that.”
Erin teasingly frowned. “What? You save the close-up examination for The Daring Duo?”
“Ugh.” Cali screwed up her nose and grimaced. “Thanks for ruining my sexually upbeat mood with
that
reminder.” She tugged open the door. “Your payback will be hell, you know. Along the lines of me never telling you a single detail if I do get busy with Will. So there!”
“Hey! That’s not fair.” Erin stuck out her tongue in response to Cali doing the same thing before closing the door behind her. Erin chuckled. Sex confessions and childish pranks. The peas and carrots of female friendships. And, speaking of friends…
Before returning to what would no doubt be another busy evening, she took a minute to check her e-mail. She hadn’t had a chance yet today to see if either one of her Eve’s Apple cronies had responded to her wild Man To Do idea.
It took only a minute for the mail chime to ring and but a few seconds for her to scan through her new e-mails and the Eve’s Apple mailing list digest to find a response from Samantha. Erin grinned as she dropped into her chair and tucked one foot up beneath her to read.
From: Samantha Tyler
Sent:
Thursday
To: Erin Thatcher; Tess Norton
Subject: Re: Magazine Article on Doing Men
Dear Erin: Men To Do! What an idea! I got this total thrill of excitement when I read your note. Could I use an uncomplicated sex-fest? Um…yeah. With the emphasis on uncomplicated. I am even sick of the *word* “relationship.” Compromise, disappointment, crumbling fantasies… I don’t sound *bitter,* do I? Well anyway, count me in.
As for The Scary Guy—I don’t know. How scary is scary? I mean is he Hannibal Lecter scary or just scary in how he makes you feel? Truth is, I like odd guys. I was always getting crushes on geeks in high school. They had a lot more personality than those gorgeous swaggering butthead jock types. Ha! Swaggering buttheads. Hey! That’s the Man To Do I want. The Swaggering Butthead. Whaddya think?
Well, I say go for it—cautiously. Take pepper spray on your dates and if he ever seems *really* scary and not just intriguing-scary, run like hell. As for how to approach him? Erin, this is a guy we’re talking about. Just smile! He’ll do the rest. And keep us posted on everything. Love, Samantha.
Erin grinned, reading through the e-mail again. Trust Samantha to be so totally Samantha, even when it came to choosing a man for nothing but sex. The Swaggering Butthead, indeed!
Still, he couldn’t be any worse than The Scary Guy. The Swaggering Butthead would certainly be easy enough to find. And he’d definitely be predictable.
That was one thing Samantha, Tess and Erin all agreed on. Men did not change, leaving her to wonder what Man To Do type Tess might have chosen—though Erin was quite sure she’d pegged him in her original note.
Closing Samantha’s e-mail and scrolling down the rest of her mail, Erin found the note she’d been expecting from Manhattan’s very own Green Thumb Goddess.
From:
Tess
Norton
Sent:
Thursday
To: Erin Thatcher; Samantha Tyler
Subject: Re: Magazine Article on Doing Men
Dear Erin: The Playboy of the Western World? Are you out of your mind? Dash Black is so far out of my league that I’m lucky I get to water his plants. So, okay, I do end up with more than my share of losers, but Brad and I are doing just fine, thank you. He explained about not showing up for our date last night, and hey, that kind of stuff happens, right?
Besides, he’s taking me to Robert DeNiro’s Tribeca party Christmas Eve. Now all I have to do is find a dress that’s priced like Tommy Hilfiger and looks like Versace. Do you think they have Jimmy Choo shoes at the Salvation Army thrift?
As for your Scary Guy? Oh, honey, go for it. Yum. The mind simply reels with the possibilities. The idea is WONDERFUL and you both deserve to let go and have at it. There’s a million inappropriate men out there, and they’re all just waiting for gorgeous creatures like you to crook your fingers.
Life is short! Eat dessert first! Make it happen. Build yourself some wild memories. Just be careful, okay? Don’t go overboard. Think to yourself, “What would Tess do?” Then do the opposite. Love, Tess.
Erin chuckled. Leave it to Tess to shop for Jimmy Choo at the Salvation Army. As if! Erin only wished Tess was here in Houston so the ribbing she deserved could be delivered in person. Sighing, Erin forced herself up from her chair and the e-mail she wanted to answer more than she wanted to return to the bar and all the work she had waiting.
What in the world was wrong with her? She’d lost all her ability to concentrate on Paddington’s and too much of her ability to care. At least it seemed that way lately. Maybe a prescription for Prozac was in order.
Or maybe she just needed to get over herself, to suck it up, to remember all the things Rory taught her about living life to the fullest. About not working oneself to death which, for some reason, had become her stock-in-trade of late. “And that wasn’t supposed to have happened,” she grumbled, shoving both hands back through her hair.
Well, she sure wouldn’t let it continue. She was going to get this funk under control and celebrate the bar’s success in style. Her bar. Her concept. Erin Thatcher’s very own Paddington’s On Main. She had to start thinking of this place as hers, instead of looking back expecting to see Rory frowning his displeasure at what she’d done with his place.
She would also have the recreational time of her life with her Man To Do. No complications, no emotional involvement and, echoing the encouraging sporting wear logo, absolutely No Fear. She’d learned more than a few tricks of survival growing up at the feet of Rory Edwin Thatcher and she was not about to let down her granddad even now.
She
would
carry on,
prove herself worthy of wearing the Thatcher name and of the gift of Paddington’s On Main.
CALI MADE THE ROUNDS of her tables, chatting with customers, refilling orders, fending off the usual spate of come-ons which, thankfully, were few and far between and innocent at that.
She’d definitely been on the receiving end of worse when working at worse places. Meeting Erin and landing this job had been an intervention Cali’s life had desperately needed.
Paddington’s On Main attracted primarily a two-tiered clientele. First there were the ones Erin—thanks to Will’s smart-mouthed observations—referred to as Rat Pack wanna-bes, young and slick and confident male professionals who brought to mind Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin and the rest of the original cast of
Ocean’s Eleven.
Cali wouldn’t necessarily have made the connection if Will hadn’t been a big fan of old movies. But apparently more than a few, uh, professional females hadn’t been as slow on the uptake, she mused, watching hips test the limits of too-tight skirts as the night’s manhunt began.
Then there were the couples seeking privacy, low lights and an ambience conducive to illicit assignations. The Daring Duo happened to be the most brazen of the regulars who spent long after-work hours indulging in wine and one another. The others managed to keep their romantic affairs private as romantic affairs should be.
Cali and Erin had fun guessing the nature of the relationships, spinning stories of imagined liaisons, both the origin of the initial attraction and the consequences of the covert tête-à-têtes. Pathetic, really. Two attractive, single, twenty-something women carrying on vicarious trysts rather than experiencing sex in the city.
How those television characters managed to balance careers with all the fun they had Cali would never understand. Between work and school and studying and life’s little everyday errands and chores, she barely had time to sleep much less find the energy to be witty and clever and all the qualities required of a femme fatale.
Most of the time it was a struggle to feel
femme.
Forget
fatale.
But none of that seemed to deter Will Cooper in the least.
He welcomed and respected her input and ideas as they worked on their collaborative screenplay. And he seemed to enjoy her company for her company’s sake. After all, it wasn’t like by hanging out at Paddington’s he was going to get anything cohesive or coherent out of her to add to their idea.
She did good to get the right order to the right customer, forget discussing their project’s plot points or determining the value to be switched in a scene.
Finished clearing a vacated table, she turned toward the bar with her loaded tray…only to catch Will’s eye. She pulled in a sharp breath, once again amazed at the intensity of the tenderness that tugged at her heart.
The gold frames of his glasses perfectly blended with the sun-kissed color of his hair and the brandied hue of his eyes. He was absolutely beautiful, a description she didn’t normally think appropriate for a man. But it fit Will perfectly.
Cali couldn’t resist. It was as if she were caught like a fish by a sparkling lure. Dirty dishes and all, she headed that way, reeled in by his sweet look of boyish mischief. His smile nearly brought her to her knees.
And how clichéd was that? One thing she knew well from her creative writing studies was never to settle for the first thing that came to mind, that originality was worth the struggle and the pain.
None of that mattered. Because this was real life, not fiction. And the way Will Cooper looked at her made putting one foot in front of the other a monumental feat of motor skills. She was a complete wreck, her thoughts of Will having strayed into taboo territory after listening earlier to Erin’s plans for seducing a man. A man she didn’t even yet know.
And Cali knew Will well.
A light shudder settled at the base of her spine as she set the tray on the bar and leaned her upper arm against it, moving as close to Will as propriety allowed, then moving closer—between his stool and the one beside, when his body heat beckoned.
The look on his face, the pensive expression and slightly crooked smile, had her longing to crawl straight up into his lap, wrap her arms around his neck and be done with this hands-off business.
“One of these days you are really going to have to rework your schedule and factor in some time off.” Will reached up and tucked an errant curl behind Cali’s ear. His hand lingered and then, frowning, he withdrew his touch, a look of uncertain surprise darkening his features—as if he had no idea that his hand had a mind of its own.
Cali did her level best not to scoot even closer and bury her face into the crook where his neck met his shoulder. The temptation of his warmth was hard to ignore. What she did, however, lifting her hand to retrace the path his had taken, was equally revealing. He watched the movement of her fingers, the fluttering motions she made trying to cover her blunder.
Oh, but she wished she was better at hiding her emotions because Will’s gaze had snagged on hers and she knew exactly what he was seeing. Her eyes had always been huge and liquid and unable to hide her feelings. And what she was feeling right now was exactly what she didn’t want Will to know she felt.
The way her heart tripped through her chest at the thought of his touch, the way her thoughts tripped over one another on the way to her tongue, the way arousal tripped down the length of her spine to settle deep in the core of her belly where she really wished Will would put his hand.