C
onfused by Nic’s behavior, Gracie invoked her fail-safe method for dealing with inscrutable men: She called her best friend and asked her to come over for a Girls’ Night In.
But Mimi had her own issues to contend with. As she sat on Gracie’s couch, her hands gestured in so many directions Gracie closed her eyes for fear of getting dizzy. “My boss is such a jerk, and it gets him off, I swear,” Mimi said. “I wish I could leave my job.” She finished her rant with a huff that ruffled her blond bangs.
Gracie hugged a pillow and gave her friend a knowing smile. “But you won’t. You love your work.”
“Yeah, everything except for having to work with him.”
“Hmmm,” Gracie responded. Then her thoughts turned to Nic. He wasn’t a jerk. Perplexing maybe, but never a jerk.
Mimi slapped a hand on the sofa cushion. “And just yesterday, he tried to embarrass me in front of the team.”
“Did he?” Gracie asked.
“Yeah. In the middle of the meeting, he walked to me, pulled me from my chair, and threw me on the table.”
“Hmmm,” Gracie murmured.
“And then he lifted my skirt and began feeling me up in front of everyone.”
Wait. What did Mimi say?
Gracie shook her head. “Hold on. Back up, back up, back up.
What
did he do?”
Mimi threw a sofa pillow at her. “I
knew
you weren’t listening to me. And I guess it’s only fair. I’ve been going on and on about Sir Jerk-a-Lot when you have more pressing matters on your mind. The floor is open. Discuss. Share. Tell Mimi your problems.”
Gracie groaned and hid her face in the pillow. “There’s a guy.”
Mimi laughed. “There’s
always
a guy.”
“No, he’s a
man
. Smart. Sexy. Genuinely kind to the Gray Ladies.”
“What’s his name?”
“Nic.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“I met him through LTN. He’s been ordered to do two hundred hours of community service.”
Mimi’s eyebrows shot up in her typical
what-the-fuck
fashion. Gracie cringed. She could see how Mimi would get the wrong idea. “What did he do?” Mimi asked.
“He’s a fast driver. One too many tickets.”
“Okay, so he’s redeemable if he learns to slow down. Don’t want to get on a soapbox, but driving too fast has consequences for other people, too. But that isn’t the real problem, is it?”
“No. I’m interested, but he’s holding back for some reason. And it’s not because of the usual suspects. No wife, no girlfriend. I asked.”
“Gay?” Mimi asked.
“I don’t think so. His kiss was way too hot. He was conflicted about something, but trust me, it wasn’t about his sexuality.”
Mimi’s eyes rounded, and she grabbed Gracie’s forearm. “You
kissed
him?”
Gracie’s ears warmed under Mimi’s shocked appraisal. “Yes. And I practically begged him to. It was so embarrassing. But I got over the embarrassment. Very quickly. Because it was hot. So incredibly hot. Like molten-lava hot.”
“Okay, okay. I get it. It was hot.”
Gracie dropped her head. “But then he backed away. And now I’m with you, sitting on the couch, where I’ll sit for another hour while the gallon of ice cream we ate makes its way through my body. Yuck.”
Mimi smiled. “Maybe he’s just skittish about commitment. They usually are.”
Gracie shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Back to the kiss. What did he taste like? Mint? Burritos? What?”
“What does it matter?” Gracie asked.
“Just answer the question.”
Gracie thought about it. “Um, minty, but more like citrus or something fruity.”
“Like gum?”
“Yes, probably.”
“He planned on kissing you then.”
Gracie stared at her friend. “You can tell that just by the smell of his breath?”
“The point, my innocent, is that he took the time to freshen his breath. He was
hoping
it would happen.”
Gracie pinched the bridge of her nose. “That is not the kind of high-level analysis I’ve come to expect from you, Mimi.”
Mimi waved her comment away like a pesky fly. “Men don’t require high-level analysis. They eat, they sleep, they shit, they have sex. All the crap in between is meant to ensure women don’t confuse them with apes. He’s into you, but he doesn’t want you to find out something about him. It’s your job to figure out what he’s hiding.” Pointing to the laptop on Gracie’s desk, Mimi said, “That thing-a-ma-jig called the Internet might be helpful. You’re familiar with it, right?”
Gracie whacked Mimi’s shoulder with the pillow she’d been smothering for the last minute. “I refuse to look him up. I’m not a stalker. Besides, I have his address and his social security number. What else do I need?”
“May I remind you that a serial killer has an address and a social security number, too?”
“Ah, but every serial killer doesn’t have a letter from his lawyer confirming that he has no record of anything other than speeding tickets, right?”
“Not bad. But don’t jump in without getting to know him more.”
Gracie understood Mimi’s concern, but since Gracie didn’t intend to explore a relationship with Nic, she set that concern aside. “Don’t worry. I don’t plan on pursuing him. Besides, I think you’re right. He’s probably skittish about commitment. Forget I said anything.”
“I’m your best friend, Gracie. I don’t forget anything you say, except when you ask me to return something I’ve borrowed.”
“Well, forget about this. My ass is still smarting from the last time a man bit me in the butt.”
Mimi waggled her eyebrows. “Sounds kinky, my pet.”
Gracie’s gaze flew to the ceiling. “Gutter brain. I’m talking about Neal.”
Neal. Her biggest mistake. The man who slotted women into two categories: women you marry and women you have sex with. It was bad enough to learn he’d ruled out a future with her. That had battered her pride. But when she learned he was stringing along another woman, Gracie had wished him every nonlethal venereal disease known to man. Fast-forward one year, and surprise, surprise, she was pining for a man who had no interest in her. Would she ever learn?
“Neal was a jerk,” Mimi said. “And he didn’t deserve you. You can’t base your life decisions on a relationship that was going nowhere from the start.”
“True. But I can learn from my mistakes. I need someone who’s open, who knows how to communicate, who thinks I’m worth making a commitment to.”
“And you’ll find him,” Mimi pressed. “Your special someone is out there. You just have to be willing to find him.”
“You know, behind that badass exterior lurks an eternal optimist.”
“If you repeat that to anyone, I’ll arrange for sex toys to be delivered to your office on a daily basis. In clear packaging.”
Gracie’s eyes widened in disbelief. Mimi was a nutcase. “Anyway, nothing’s going on between Nic and me. And I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Bullshit,” Mimi said.
Gracie groaned. Then she face-planted on the couch. Denial was getting her nowhere. “Bullshit is right.”
* * *
The gods granted Gracie a reprieve, because Nic was a no-show the week after “the kiss.” He’d left a message with Brenda, informing Gracie that he’d been called away on unexpected business. Right. He was on the run, and she couldn’t blame him. Not when she’d all but thrown her panties in his face when he’d tried to warn her away. She searched her surroundings for her self-respect. She needed it back. Yesterday.
Thankfully, her younger sister Karen’s impending visit distracted her from her thoughts about Nic. Karen would be staying the weekend, and Gracie was looking forward to spending time with her.
A senior at New York University, Karen planned to attend medical school after college. Her determination to do so meant she had little time for social pursuits. Gracie worried that her baby sister was
too
focused on her career, but Gracie held her tongue. Arguably, Gracie had the same problem, so she wasn’t sure what she would say to Karen to convince her to change.
Gracie arrived at Union Station more than an hour before Karen’s train was scheduled to arrive. She wandered the enormous station, marveling at its resemblance to a shopping mall. Small, nationally recognizable shops dotted the second level. The first level bustled with the activity of both travelers from far away and people who commuted to work from Maryland or Virginia. After a rest stop at a small coffee shop, Gracie walked to the waiting area where she would meet Karen.
She didn’t wait long. Karen was among the first travelers to barrel through the double doors that led to the station platform. Karen squealed when she saw her big sister, and Gracie, who was just as excited, rushed to Karen and enveloped her in a tight embrace. “Oh, gosh, Kar. You’re growing up so fast.” And it was true. Her “baby sister” was a woman, and for the first time Gracie understood her father’s desire to protect his girls from harm. She still didn’t agree with his views, but she understood their motivation.
Karen rolled her eyes. “Gracie, stop. You sound like Mom. Now, take me to your fabulous apartment and feed me sumptuous food worthy of the goddess I am.”
“Rice and beans, right?” Gracie asked with a smile. Karen was a sucker for the staple of her mother’s Puerto Rican kitchen.
The corners of Karen’s eyes crinkled in delight. “Of course.”
Gracie grabbed Karen’s bag, slung it over her shoulder, and linked arms with her sister as she led her to the taxi line.
As they waited on the long line, Gracie shared her exciting news. “I have a surprise for you.”
Karen twisted her long hair into a bun as she searched Gracie’s face. “You’re pregnant.”
Gracie choked on her laughter. “Uh, no. That would require Immaculate Conception, and I’m certain there are others more worthy of such a miracle.”
“Okay, we’ll talk about that sad fact later. What’s the surprise?”
“We have tickets to see the Kennedy Center’s production of
The Dancer
. Tomorrow night.”
Karen’s eyes widened with excitement. “No way.”
“Yes, way.”
As a teenager in New York, Gracie had spent hours wandering the most famous museums in the world: the Guggenheim, the Museum of Modern Art, and of course, the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The District had its fair share of wonderful art museums, but New York museums held a special place in her heart.
Given that she loved art, she could not miss the Kennedy Center’s production of
The Dancer
, a musical based on Edgar Degas’s famous painting
Little Dancer Aged Fourteen
. An LTN board member had offered her the tickets, and she’d snapped them up like a hungry crocodile. Karen, who loved the performing arts, would be the perfect “date” for the show.
“Do we get to dress up?” Karen asked as they climbed into the taxi.
“We do. First, I feed you. Then we shop.”
Gracie gave the taxi driver her address, and Karen snuggled against her. “I’m so glad I’m here, Gracie. It’s going to be a wonderful evening.”
* * *
Gracie needed to use the restroom. As she’d anticipated, the performance captivated her senses—and undermined her ability to gauge when she’d sipped too much water. As soon as the intermission began, Gracie left her seat and sprinted out of the auditorium. Karen trailed behind her.
“Enjoying the show?” Gracie asked Karen as they waited in line.
“I am. It’s incredible. I had the urge to use the restroom a half hour ago, but I didn’t want to miss a second.”
“I know what you mean,” Gracie said as she rushed into the stall.
Minutes later, she and Karen met outside the restroom and debated whether to order wine. “I think I’ll pass,” Karen said.
“I’m going to order a glass. Go ahead back to your seat. No need to wait for me.”
Karen nodded and walked away.
Gracie turned toward the bar, enjoying the slight twirl of the black jersey dress she’d worn for the occasion. Stepping around two middle-aged women in the middle of a warm hug, her eyes rounded when she saw a familiar figure.
Nic—waiting at the bar.
With a woman.
A beautiful woman with a slim figure and a stylish, pixie haircut. And she was a very possessive woman, if the hand grasping at Nic’s waist was any indication.
Gracie’s mouth dropped as she took him in. He’d replaced his signature outfit—a sweater and jeans—with a slate gray suit that hugged his broad shoulders and long legs. He’d combed his hair back, too, and the effect devastated her: Every feature on his face, from his pale green eyes to his bow-shaped lips, fought for her attention. She watched this stranger, noticing the details that had transformed him from a casually dressed computer consultant to the striking businessman before her. The starched white shirt. The red silk tie. The Italian leather shoes. To say that he cleaned up well would have been an understatement.
At first, Nic’s face revealed nothing about his mood. But then he appeared inattentive and distracted, glancing between the watch at his wrist and the program in his hand. At one point, he gritted his teeth when the beauty next to him kissed his cheek.
Gracie’s stomach twisted. Afraid she’d have to speak to Nic with that woman by his side, she dove behind the middle-aged women, one of whom wore an elaborate red hat that provided the camouflage Gracie needed.
The woman with the red hat leaned toward Gracie. “What is it, sweetheart?” she asked in a low voice.
“I don’t want someone to see me,” Gracie replied.
The other woman’s eyes brightened with excitement. “Is it a man?”
“Yes, yes, a man,” Gracie said. “A very handsome one. But he happens to be here with a date.”
The woman straightened and searched the crowd, presumably for the handsome man in question. “Oh, the rat. We’ve got you covered.”
And they did. Literally. The two women shifted to stand hip to hip as Gracie crouched behind them. “On three, we’ll step back and walk to the auditorium doors,” said Hat Lady. “One, two, three.”
They shuffled backward and to the right as other patrons watched them in amusement. It took them fifty awkward steps to get Gracie to safety. When they reached the doors, Gracie scrambled inside the auditorium. Her saviors followed her.