MAKE ME A MATCH (Running Wild) (7 page)

Maria had decided that every Friday night was their “date night.” Tessa was trying to break her of it, but it wasn’t proving to be easy. She loved Maria. You had to love your mother, but she didn’t see how this best friend thing could ever work, and she was right.

The last time they’d been out together on one of these Friday night disasters, Maria must have read an article in Cosmo on what girlfriends talked about. Leaning across the vegetarian pizza they were sharing, she’d said, “Tessa, which vibrator do you think is worth buying?”

What did you say when your mother asked a question like that?

“It’s a matter of personal taste, Mom,” she’d managed to gulp. “And also on how much money you plan on spending.”

It just wasn’t natural to discuss vibrators with your mother. Next thing, her father, also single, would be asking her advice on Viagra.

“I’m calling about tomorrow night,” Maria said, and Tessa was pathetically grateful for an ironclad alibi.

“Sorry, Mom, can’t make it, I’ve got a date tomorrow night.”

Three weeks ago, Clara had matched her with Alistair Farnsworth, a dot-com millionaire. Tessa had been out with him twice and she figured he was a dot-com dud, but she was duty bound to play by Clara’s rule—three strikes before you dumped him.

“That’s why I’m calling. So have I.”

Tessa waited a beat. “So have you what?”

“Got a date.” There was smugness in Maria’s tone, but there was also apprehension.

Tessa sat bolt upright. This was new, this was interesting. She’d been on the verge of trying to line her mother up with her favorite older male client, Kenneth Zebroff, just to get out of any more discussions about vibrators. “You have? Way to go, Mom! God, this is wonderful. I’m thrilled for you. Is it anybody I know?”

Maria drew in an audible breath and let it out again. She spoke so softly Tessa had trouble hearing her. “Actually, it’s Walter.”

“Walter who?” Tessa didn’t know a Walter, except for…..

“Walter as in Walter McBride? My Dad? You’re going out with my dad?”

She couldn’t keep the horror out of her tone. These were two people who’d fought their way through Tessa’s childhood, battled ferociously over the divorce settlement for five years after the fact, and couldn’t be in the same room without having an explosive argument that left Tessa sick to her stomach and anyone else present running for cover.

“What happened to—”
Don’t go there, Tess
. The last time she’d visited her father, maybe three weeks ago, there’d been a blonde named Buffy at his apartment at ten on Sunday morning, and she’d seemed very much at home. She also had bigger breasts and smaller hips than Tessa.

She rearranged the question. “What happened that made you think this was a good idea?” Besides brain seizures that erased every scrap of cogent memory in both your graying heads.

“It was your grandmother Belinda.”

“Ma, Grandma Blin died sixteen months and”— Tessa glanced at the desk calendar—“four days ago.” Maybe her mother had actually had a stroke or something, because she wasn’t making much sense.

“I know that, Tessa. Of course I know when my own mother-in-law died, for goodness’ sake. But I think losing her has changed your father, for the better. We’ve talked quite a lot and we both feel we’re older and wiser now, and maybe for the good of the family we should try to at least be friends.”

The family? What family? The last she’d heard, Tessa had been an only child, and she and Maria and Walter were family by merit of blood alone. Maybe she had a sister somewhere in an institution, and they’d never told her?

“Please don’t tell me you’re doing this for me, Ma. Because I’m really okay with you guys being divorced, honest. I mean, I wasn’t when I was a teenager. I pretty much despised both of you and longed to be an orphan, but most teens hate their parents whether they have reasons or not.”

She was babbling, but she had provocation. “It wasn’t as if I had no one to talk to about it either; there was always Grandma Blin.”

Who used to agree that the pair of you were prize assholes. Tears filled Tessa’s eyes as a nostalgic grin came and went. Tiny, optimistic, fiery Grandma Blin had been Tessa’s mainstay all during her childhood, and it was her death that had allowed Tessa to quit her boring job and move back to Vancouver, because Grandma Blin had left Tessa her house, an adorable pink two bedroom cottage on a quiet street just off of Cambie, stuffed with furniture and layered with the crocheted doilies Gram churned out.

“So where are you guys going?”

The thought of her mom and dad out on a date made her desperate for a smoke. There was the faint possibility that she and her own date could walk in some restaurant and meet, God help her, her mother and father.

Tessa didn’t think she could handle that.

“To Bellingham.”

“Bellingham?” It was a town just over the U.S. border. “Why are you going to Bellingham?”

“There used to be a pub that your dad and I went to. We want to see if it’s still there.”

At least it got them out of the city. Tessa was tempted to tell her mother to take mad money with her for transportation home, just in case things went as usual, but she held her tongue.

“I want you to know where my will is, Tessa. It’s in that cubbyhole in the sideboard. It’s really straightforward; it leaves everything to you. You know who my lawyer is, Trudy Hopman at Maxwell and Hopman.”

“Your will?” This was getting too weird. “What are you worried about your will for, Ma?” Surely she didn’t think Tessa’s father might murder her? Through years of her yapping, Walter had never laid a hand on Maria.

“Because we’re going on your father’s motorcycle.

Wil
l you let me get lucky with you?

Tessa felt her eyes widen and her chest contract. “Mom, please tell me you’re joking. You know Dad’s had a couple of tickets for speeding on that thing, and if you’re going to a pub…..Mom, this is not a good idea. ”

“As long as you know where my will is, Tessa, I’m fine with it. Walter always rode a motorcycle; it was one of the things I liked about him.”

It was the first positive thing Tessa had ever heard her mother say about her dad, and it wasn’t reassuring in the slightest.

“Do you even have a helmet?” Tessa’s brain was having serious difficulty with the mental image of her chubby mother holding on to her overweight father’s middle, balancing on the back of a candy apple red Harley. “What are you going to wear?” Leather did protect somewhat, but Tessa’s leather pants wouldn’t begin to go around Maria’s hips. They barely went around Tessa’s, since she’d almost stopped smoking.

“I’m buying new jeans. My old ones don’t fit. I’ve gained a few pounds. And Walter has a spare helmet.”

Tessa just bet he did. He’d undoubtedly been tearing around with Buffy wearing it.

“Walter’s promised me that if he has anything to drink, we’ll just stay down there and come home the next day. There’s a motel there that’s decent, we used to stay there when we were dating.”

Tessa felt like gagging. The motel might be decent, but the thought of her parents having sex in it was far worse than the motorcycle thing. She couldn’t do this anymore.

“Mom, I’ve gotta go. I have clients.”

She did. She just didn’t have any at this exact moment. She hung up the phone and did some deep abdominal breathing before she lit a cigarette, but just as she was reaching for one the phone rang again.

Tessa snatched it up. Maria had probably come to her senses.

“Mom?”

“Nope, it’s Eric.”

Thursday had gone so far south the Gulf of Mexico was only a memory.

“If you’re phoning to find out if I’ve matched you up for the weekend, I have to confess I haven’t found quite the perfect match for you just yet.” Buffy the Vampire Slayer was otherwise occupied. “But I’ll line something up by the weekend, I promise.” Which gave her exactly one day to do it.

“That’s not why I’m calling. I’ve been thinking things over, Tessa, and I think we need to talk.”

If it had been anyone but Eric, she would have believed she was hallucinating. In living memory, she couldn’t ever remember a single guy using that line. Wasn’t it copyrighted for use by females only? There had to be a catch.

“Talk? Talk about what? Actually, I’m pretty busy right now. Could it wait?” Guys used
that
line all the time, why shouldn’t she?

“I want to clear the air. About what happened between us. Those two nights we dated. Back when we were kids.” His voice was low and intense.

“When I was a kid.” She felt like saying that at the time, she was still shitting yellow. That had been one of Gram Blin’s best lines, but she held her tongue. “You were over twenty-one, if I remember correctly.”

“Now that’s the sort of remark that makes it hard to apologize to you, Tessa.”

“You want to
apologize
?” She’d waited a long time for this. “So go ahead; I’m all ears.” But she had butterflies in her stomach.

“I’d rather do it in person. Can you meet me after work?”

She could. She wasn’t due at Karen’s until six, but did she want to?

“Please, Tessa?”

“Oh, all right. Where?”

“I’ll pick you up. What time are you done?”

She glanced at the clock. It was after four, she’d been here since eight-thirty this morning, nothing had gone well. Enough was enough.

“Half an hour.” Might as well get it over with, she told herself, wishing she’d worn the blue sheath instead of this gray skirt and red sweater. At least the skirt was good and short. She’d have to put her pantyhose back on, though. She’d taken her hose off to let her legs breathe a little. Why hadn’t she used that free coupon for the tanning spa?

“See you then.” He hung up.

Twenty minutes later, he rang the bell and barged through the door when she pushed the buzzer. She’d used the time to wash her face and reapply makeup, and she’d struggled back into the damned pantyhose.

He looked better than he had two days before. He was clean-shaven, no bloodshot eyes, khaki pants fit snug over his butt, loose white polo shirt under a butter-soft brown leather jacket. He must work out, or else he’d had liposuction. Nobody had a stomach that flat. He even smelled faintly of something tangy, probably delayed guilt.

“Hi, Tessa. Ready to go?”

She was, more or less, but she was nervous. “Where?”

“Somewhere we can talk. Feel like a drink?”

“In the afternoon?”

“Why not?”

She couldn’t think of a reason.

“Okay.” She was feeling ridiculously antsy, and alcohol had its uses. “But I don’t like pubs; they smell bad.”

“There’s a licensed cafe just around the corner from here.”

She grabbed her raincoat, but it had stopped raining outside. Instead, it had poured down inside the office.

They walked the half block in silence. The place was quiet and almost empty. They sat. He glanced at the wine list and then ordered a bottle seemingly at random.

“An entire bottle?” Maybe he’d become an alcoholic.

“This is sort of a celebration. I thought we could just put all this old shit behind us and start over, okay?”

“This old shit? This is what you meant by an apology?” She stood up and grabbed her handbag. “Right, I’m outta here. Bye.”

“Wait.” He was on his feet, holding her arm. “Sorry, I’m so bad at this. Sit back down, please. I’ll do better, just give me a minute here.”

She relented and sat. Obviously, he hadn’t had any practice at apologizing.

The anxious, elegant waiter presented the bottle of wine Eric had ordered as if it were the Holy Grail, and then insisted on going through an elaborate uncorking, sniffing, stress-ridden ceremony before he finally poured two glasses and reluctantly left them alone with his pride and joy. His doleful face indicated that he knew they wouldn’t really appreciate it.

Tessa lifted her glass and took a hefty slug.

“Is it okay?” Eric looked anxious now. “I figured maybe it was a dud and he was just trying to put one over on me.”

She took another mouthful and pretended to roll it around in her mouth before she swallowed. “For a simple little vintage, it has an amusing undertone, a deep, penetrating bouquet evocative of aged wood.”

“Wow.” He lifted an eyebrow and took an experimental gulp. “It’s not bad, I guess. Kinda sweet. You some kind of wine connoisseur?”

She had to grin at that. “I know three things about wine,” she confessed. “Sweet, sour, medium dry.”

He grinned. “That’s about it for me, too. You had me worried there for a minute.” He took another mouthful, swallowed, and set the wineglass down. “Look, Tessa, I really don’t want bad feelings between us. Maybe we could work toward an emotional détente, start out fresh. What’d’ya say?”

“Good vocabulary.” She gave him a level look. He was slippery all right. “You said something about an apology.”

“God, you’re a hard woman. You’re gonna force me to go over it piece by piece, aren’t you?”

She nodded, jaw set.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry for what happened way back when. I should never have taken you out that first time, you were my kid sister’s pal, I wasn’t thinking straight that night. I’d had a couple beers; you were so damned—”

He was making excuses. She narrowed her eyes and waited, knowing he was going to work around to blaming her, and when he did he was going to wear the wine. But he surprised her.

“Pretty.” He didn’t meet her eyes. Instead, he fiddled with the glass, rubbing a thumb slowly around the top edge. It made her body clench.

“You were so pretty. Sexy. Soft. And that mouth of yours—” He caught himself and sat up straighter. “I never intended to let it go as far as it did. It just went out of control real quick, and, well, you know what young guys are like.”

“Yeah.” She watched him and nodded. “Rumor has it they think with their dicks.” She hadn’t known that then. She’d learned it from him.

His head jerked up and down. “You got it.”

“That doesn’t account for the lecture you gave me afterward.” It was past time for him to know how it had affected her. Remembering still made her insides shrink and her face go hot. She narrowed her eyes and gave it to him straight up.

“I felt like a slut, Eric. You treated me like a half-witted child. You told me all the nasty things your asinine friends said about girls who had sex first time out. You told me word got around. You repeated all the dirty names girls like me were called, you said”—this part still hurt like a son of a gun— “you said I wasn’t fit company for Karen. Then you drove like a maniac to my house and bruised my right arm dragging me to the front door. I’ve never been so humiliated in my life. ”

He rubbed a hand over his curls. “I was an idiot. What can I say? I worried myself sick about those sisters of mine, I thought for sure one or more of them would get pregnant, or run away, or get mixed up with a real lowlife. All of which Karen ended up doing, actually.”

He stared down at the table for a few minutes, and Tessa thought about Karen and felt sad. Once when they were kids, they’d pretended for a whole day to exchange lives.

Karen was Maria’s daughter that day, getting scolded for dirtying her new white shoes, and Tessa had big sisters and a brother who held ribbons in his teeth and scowled while he braided hair into pigtails. It was one of her best memories.

“Then I ended up seducing my little sister’s best friend,” he said with a groan. “I was horrified and really ashamed of myself.” He waited a beat and then he looked her straight in the eye and added, “Plus, you said you loved me, Tessa. Remember that part? You said you’d always loved me. That totally freaked me out. It scared me half to death.”

Tessa felt her face go hot. That night with Eric hadn’t been the first time she’d had sex, or even an orgasm, but it had never been mind blowing before. She’d been emotionally overwhelmed, raw and open and astounded at the power he’d unleashed, and she’d blurted out the truth.

“I had a crush on you,” she improvised. “People joke about it being puppy love, but it sure feels real at the time. I had this big thing for you, the whole time we were growing up. You were Karen’s big brother, and she idolized you, so I did too.” Of all things, her chin wobbled, remembering. She took control of it and added in a sprightly voice, “Well, congratulations, you sure got me over that in a hurry. I could have gone on mooning after you and missed out on my real life.”

“I didn’t have a clue how you felt until that night.” He was giving her a strange look.

“Well, like I said, I got over it fast, there one day, poof, gone the next,” she lied. Maybe he had a built-in lie detector, because he was giving her a funny look. Or maybe the wine was making her eyes go funny.

She’d polished off two glasses already, nerves were making her drink too fast. She blotted her lips with the napkin and released her death grip on the glass. When he didn’t answer, she burst out, “And if you were so horrified and ashamed, how come you phoned two weeks later, said you were sorry and wanted to make it up to me, and asked me out again? Explain that, Eric Stewart.”