Authors: Chantilly White
"That pretty much sums it up," Allison said
finally, winding down. She sipped her tea and brooded over the delicate cup.
"Did you talk to DeeDee about him?"
"I called her on the way here. She said she liked him
when he came in. Like, really liked him." Allison rubbed a finger over the
ache in her temple. "Since he struck her as too serious for my usual type,
and she approved of that, she sent his profile. She's been trying to wean me
away from the playboys. She's always lecturing."
"Good," Mia said, surprising Allison.
"Why?"
Shifting, Mia ducked her head, a clear sign she'd said
something she wished she hadn't. "I just. . . You sell yourself short with
all those boy toys, Alli. I know, I know, you're having fun and blah
blah," she said, waving away any objections Allison might make. "A
couple months ago, I might have believed you. But I know you, and all that
playing around has been taking a toll on you lately."
Allison dropped her gaze. A few months ago, she'd surprised
the then anti-love Mia by admitting she—the ultimate party girl—did
indeed believe in forever, she just hadn't found it yet. Wasn't ready for it
yet, she reminded herself, even with Ben's image staring her in the face.
But Mia had always scoffed along with her over her family's
soul-mate superstition, never realizing Allison harbored some deeply buried
hopes and beliefs on that score.
She hadn't realized Mia—or Dee, for that
matter—had picked up on her occasional loneliness. Her shield must be
thinning.
"That's what DeeDee said," she admitted. "No
ulterior motives, other than wanting me to find Mr. Right instead of Mr. Right
Enough For Now. At least, none she's copping to, but I believed her."
Needing to move, Allison set the tea down and jumped to her
feet, striding the narrow confines of the room in her stockings, her arms
wrapped around herself. Nervous tension rode her shoulders up to her ears and
knotted the muscles lining her spine.
Mia drew her knees up and rested her hands on them, watching
Allison pace, holding her silence.
This shouldn't be such a big deal. He was an appealing,
healthy, single man. She was attracted to him. It didn't have to be anything
more than that. But. . .
"I'm sorry," Mia said finally, breaking into her
thoughts, "but I don't really understand why you're so upset. You worked
out the misunderstanding, which was a lot of nothing, really. He likes you, you
like him. What's the problem?"
"That's just it!" Allison said, pulling on the
length of her hair in frustration. "We've known each other basically an
hour, but there's already all this angst and emotion going on,
it's—"
"Early."
"I know," Allison said, wanting to pull her own
hair out by the roots. "But. . ." Breaking off with a sigh, she
stared out the window for a moment, not really seeing the rippling waves, the
palm trees and burnt-sugar sand. Ben's face swam before her eyes instead, and
something deep inside clutched.
"I've never seen you this way over a guy, let alone one
you just met."
Facing Mia, Allison laced her fingers together, took a deep
breath, and said, "I had. . . The Feeling."
Her friend tilted her head, her long dark hair falling to
the side as she considered Allison. "What feeling?"
"
The
Feeling.
You know. The thing."
"The family thing?"
"Yeah."
Mia frowned again, running one delicate fingertip around the
rim of her teacup, but instead of scoffing, she said, "Well, then. It
sounds to me like Cupid's Cavalry might have made a love match."
Allison stared at her, nonplussed. What had happened to her
pragmatic friend? "It wasn't Cupid, it was Dee, and it's not a match, it's
a gigantic mistake. We're too different."
"So what?"
"I just don't see how it can work. I don't even know if
he has a job. He took off for
six years
,
Mia, he might take off again at any time. He's all wrong for me."
"The boy toys are all wrong for you. If he's that
different from them, maybe he's not so wrong after all."
Trying to follow Mia's logic made the pounding in her head
worse. Negating her friend's opinion with the swipe of a hand, Allison said,
"Anyway, none of it matters, because I'm not ready for all that."
"What about your Kelly Intuition?"
"I thought you never believed in that stuff."
"I thought
you
never did," Mia countered. "Besides, I've, um, had a change of
heart."
"Since Derrick, you mean."
Mia shrugged, her smile blooming. "You won't know until
you give it a chance. It's obvious you're interested. Go get him, Alli."
Go get him. Right.
The next few days flew by with all the speed and excitement
of a snail racing competition.
Waiting by the phone, something Allison couldn't remember
ever doing in her life, sucked. She refused to call him on principle—Ben
had said he'd call, so he'd better call. But that didn't mean she had to sit
patiently by, waiting for the ring tone she'd assigned him to go off.
So she wouldn't. Anyway, cell phones being portable took a
huge chunk of the Miss-Lonely-Hearts drama out of the whole ritual.
"You're being ridiculous, Alli," Mia said when she
called Saturday morning. "It hasn't even been twenty-four hours."
"That's not the point."
Allison tapped her fingers impatiently on her kitchen table,
wishing she hadn't brought Ben into the conversation in the first place. She
needed to get ready for the events she had scheduled later in the day. There
was no time to brood.
Still, Ben's silence irked.
If he thought she was sitting around pining for him, though,
he was sadly mistaken. She had plenty of work lined up to keep her busy, and
she vowed to say yes to every invitation she received to make up for the last
two weeks of no dating. Maybe she did check her phone's battery and reception
more often than usual, but that was no one's business but hers. Never mind that
no one else seemed to have any trouble tracking her down.
She spent the rest of her Saturday working two different bar
mitzvahs, one a luncheon and one an elaborate sit-down dinner and late night
party. She followed the party by accepting an invitation for drinks at her
favorite sport's bar with studly boy-toy, Brad Cooper. Afterward, he looked
confused when she kissed him on the cheek at her front door, but Allison didn't
ask him inside. She told herself she was tired from her earlier events.
Fatigue didn't help her sleep, however. She spent a long
night tossing and turning, her body tingling with needs her vibrator couldn't
soothe.
And the snails raced on.
Early Sunday morning, she blew off a stack of paperwork in
favor of a trip to the local farmer's market with the very yummy Wendell
Johnson. If his company seemed less stimulating than usual, at least she scored
plenty of fresh produce.
A sixty-fifth wedding anniversary was scheduled to take up
most of the day, giving her a handy excuse for leaving Wendell at the curb
after their brunch, much to his disappointment.
Circling the crowd later that afternoon, Allison smiled with
satisfaction. The party had gone off without a hitch, and her bitchy baker had
behaved like a professional business woman instead of a fishwife. For once. The
anniversary cake had been a piece of art, and delicious besides. Still, Allison
gave a sigh of relief to be done with the woman.
The anniversary couple, both white-haired and stooped, but
also spry and rather sassy, had stammered and blushed with delight as their
friends and family toasted them, then stared into each other's eyes for hours
while waltzing together around the dance floor.
Caught up in the beauty of the moment, Allison had had to
dash to the ladies' room to dab away unexpected tears.
Later that night, she'd leapt at the offer of dinner out
with Seamus Fitzpatrick.
Maybe each of her three weekend dates had ended with little
more than pecks on the cheek for her manly distractions, but that had nothing
to do with Ben. She wasn't saving herself for him, for cripes sake. She simply
hadn't been in the mood.
Until later. When she'd been thinking about Ben.
Damn it.
He'd better call soon. Her imagination and battery-powered
lover could only take her so far. As Sunday night faded into Monday morning, it
didn't seem far enough.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Are you going to call her or what?"
"Don't nag, Sally," Ben said.
A frown creased his forehead as he studied the latest memo
from Trent Koenig, currently his biggest investor in the clean water project he
was developing. The contractor Trent had tapped to oversee the project—at
cost—was on board, which was great, but his completion date would
interfere with several others and put the rest of Ben's projects too far behind
schedule. They'd have to tweak the timeframe.
"Nagging stems from love."
"Huh," Ben scoffed, not really listening.
"Seriously, Ben, you can't expect a woman like that to
just sit around waiting."
"It's only been three days." And Allison was
certainly not waiting around for him—he'd seen the steady stream of men going
to and from her house.
"Four," Sally corrected. "I thought you said
you liked her."
Throwing his pen aside, Ben pinned Sally with a look.
"I do like her, and I intend to call her. I need to clear a few things off
my slate first, if that's all right with you."
"I just meant—"
Ben held up a hand. "Look, I appreciate everything
you've done for me since I've been back. Even getting me into that ridiculous
dating service." How many emails from single-and-looking women had he
fielded in the last three days? One or two he might even have been interested
in if he'd met them before Allison. Now, they were just unwelcome distractions,
taking time away from work he wanted completed before he knocked on Allison's
door. "I'll handle the rest my way."
They'd had words when he'd returned from the lunch with
Allison. Sally had confessed to a certain amount of private glee in knowing his
first date was with her red-hot neighbor. And she'd been right—if he'd
handled the situation himself, he probably wouldn't have gone out with the
party-princess in the first place. And he would have missed out.
Regardless, he'd insisted on taking over managing the dating
service's emails himself, even if they cut into his already limited time. One
surprise like Allison was about all his heart could handle. Besides which, if
he had to tell Sally she was right one more time, her head would get too big to
fit through her front door.
"Just don't wait too long, Ben. If you really like her,
you've already got your work cut out for you. She's used to—"
"I know. Stop worrying, Sally. I've got it
covered."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Work, Allison, focus on work.
Traditionally, January was a slow month for her, but aside
from her canceled New Year's Eve contract—which technically fell under
December—she had a decent amount of events coming up through the end of
the month, and February was always busy. Every happy client was a special
thrill, one more satisfied customer building her business and reputation.
Still, even with all that business, her friends' weddings to
work on, and a date every night if she wanted, she found herself staring at the
clock more than she'd like. Because her inclination was to moon around like a
lovesick teenager, she overcompensated by throwing herself even more fully into
her work.
Negotiating with a new baker to replace the bitch went
smoothly. Her bookkeeping was up to date. She had feelers out on a few other
vendors. Her bills were paid, her house was clean. DeeDee sent her a baby
shower and a bachelorette party for past clients of Cupid's Cavalry, but they
weren't scheduled until March and April, respectively.
By Thursday afternoon, tension knots had formed ridges along
her shoulders. The muscles in her thighs clenched tight every time she thought
of Ben, which was every fourth minute, and her patience with both him and
herself was nearing an end. Allison sighed. Another glance at the clock showed
thirty-five whole seconds had sped by since she'd last checked. Tick-tock.
Tapping her pen on the blotter on her desk, she pondered a new
course of action. She could call him. It wasn't like she'd never called a man
in her life. Of course she had. She was a modern woman, after all. She
could—
The phone rang, its shrill tone startling her out of her
funk. She pounced on it before it could ring a second time.
"Hello?"
"Hey, babe. It's Scott. Want to grab a bite tonight
and. . . whatever?"
Scott Meyers, from the gym. Not Ben. Damn it. That's what
she got for not checking the caller ID before picking up. On the other hand,
she'd blown off the last three guys who'd called after the Sunday night date
with Seamus, and she was sick of sitting by the phone after promising herself
she wouldn't.
What the hell.
She needed another distraction. Maybe a date with the very
hot, very built—if somewhat nerdy—Scott was just the ticket.
"Sure," she said, putting as much enthusiasm into
her voice as possible. "Six o'clock?"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Scott wolf-whistled when he picked her up at her front door,
gratifying her vanity. Wrapping his hands around her waist, he pulled her in
for an ardent kiss she did her best to return. She wondered if anyone looking
out the window of a house four doors down could see them silhouetted in her
doorway, then banished the thought as beneath her. Ben had had his chance, and
she didn't owe him anything. But still. It wouldn't hurt for Mr. Benjamin
Turner to get a good look at what he was missing.