More Flirts! 5 Romantic Short Stories (The Flirts! Short Stories Collections) (9 page)

***

Three hours later, they’d left the restaurant and were back her place, sitting on the couch, chatting about the past and planning for the future. “I’ll help you with your resume. We’ll find another job for you,” Aubrey said. “You know we don’t have to worry about money. Not with my inheritance.”

“I need to work, Aubrey. I want to work.” Smiling, he put his arm around her. “And I’m sure you’ll help me figure something out. You have good ideas and you’re persistent.”

She looked down and knew she was blushing. “And I do have this big apartment if things get too crowded at your sister’s place. You could have your own room. But, it’s not like this is a new relationship. I say we pick up right where we left off.”

“No.”

She jerked away and balled up her fists. “See? There I go again, trying too hard to make it work.”

He pulled her back to him. “No, you’re perfect, Aubrey. I meant we’re not going to pick up where we left off, because I wasn’t giving enough to our relationship. We’re going to start off better than we were. I promise to try harder this time, Aubrey. I’m not going to lose you again. And living with you sounds great, if that’s what you want.”

She leaned in for a kiss then stopped and snapped her fingers. “We’ll set up a facebook page for you—Ten Reasons to Hire Ian.”

Shaking his head, he laughed. “I like it. But you know what I like better right now? Ten Reasons To Shut Up and Kiss Me.”

“Oh.” And she leaned in for a beautiful kiss that was the perfect blend of past, present, and the promise of a perfect future.

After a few moments, she broke off the kiss. “Hang on a minute. Let’s pretend today is Valentine’s Day. I’ve got an unopened box of chocolates to share with you. Will you eat the maple nougats? I hate them.”

“I’ll even eat the jelly ones you don’t like.”

She leaned against his shoulder. “Now that’s working hard for our relationship.”

***

The next morning at work, Aubrey called Diana to cancel their appointment. “I’m back together with Ian and happier than ever,” Aubrey told her. “I really think he’s the one. I hate to say it, but I don’t need your help anymore. Of course, we can gradually cut back on my visits if that’s easier for you. I feel like we’re breaking up.”

“You don’t want to see me anymore?” Diana asked.

Aubrey nibbled her lip. “No, sorry.”

“Sorry? Thank god. Now I can quit,” Diana said.

“Hey, I was kidding about that. You need to keep helping people. You helped me so much.”

“No, I’m really going to quit. I signed a book deal on finding love. I’ve been transferring all my clients to other therapists. You’re my last one.”

“Seriously? Congratulations! What’s the book about?” Aubrey asked, while Debbie, the other receptionist, shooshed her.

“You helped inspire it: An Exit Survey for your Ex: Learning from your breakups.” I hope you’ll let me interview you for it.”

“Of course!”

That earned another shoosh from Debbie.

“Great. But now that your love life is sorted, I do think we should talk some more about your professional life. You could be doing so much more.”

Aubrey stared at the dish of Skittles on her desk, aware of Debbie’s continued glare. “You’re right.”

Diana said nothing for a few seconds. “I am? You’re not going to fight me on this and insist you’re happy?”

Aubrey realized she was shaking her head no. “This whole process has helped me realize I worked too damn hard on finding a guy, but not enough on myself. Maybe I was using my money as an excuse.”

“And the student becomes the master.” Diana laughed and said goodbye.

Still smiling, Aubrey looked up the stairs to the second floor where the HR office was. She asked Debbie to cover for her for a moment, hoping she could trust her with the bowl of Skittles. She suspected Debbie fished out the orange ones when she wasn’t looking. Aubrey straightened her skirt, took a deep breath, and climbed the stairs.

She knocked on Barb’s open door.

Barb looked up.
Surprise, she’s frowning
.

“Come in. Is everything all right? Do you need more personal time?” Barb asked.

Aubrey started to twist her fingers in front of her. But she stopped, took a deep breath and said, “No. I need to know if there are any openings in the marketing department.”

Barb smiled. “It’s about time. Sit down. Something perfect just opened up for someone who works as hard as you do.”

Mr. Wrong

By Lisa Scott

Diana Hart stared at her computer screen and tried not to panic. When she gave up her therapy practice so she could devote time to writing, she assumed the words would fly—but her mind and her computer screen were blank. Bad news, because she had a lot of writing to do. The publisher had signed her for a two-book deal after buying her first book proposal,
The Ex Exit Survey—How to Learn From Your Breakups
. Her former client, Aubrey, was thrilled to be the inspiration for that title. But now the second book proposal was due, and Diana was stumped for ideas. What would the publisher say if she didn’t come through? Even worse—what would her mother say?

Diana’s phone rang.
Saved by the ring tone
, she thought. “Hello?”

“Diana, it’s April twelfth, our deadline has come and gone. The publisher wants the proposal for your second book yesterday.” Her agent, Miriam, did not sound happy.

“I’m working on it right now,” Diana said. Which was partially true. She was trying to work on it. She had to work on it. The advance would carry her for the next year, and her mother was the star of her bridge club now that her daughter was going to be an author. There was no backing out.

“Good, what’ve you come up with?” Miriam asked.

“Well…”

Miriam said nothing for a moment. “Diana, be honest with me. If you don’t have any ideas let me help you brainstorm.”

Diana let out the breath she’d been holding. “I don’t have any ideas. Not any good ones. I’m already focusing on my clients’ stories in book one. It would seem like a rehash to do that in book two.”

“That’s easily solved. Focus on yourself. Your own love life. Part memoir, part advice guide. We could call it
From The Hart
.” Miriam sighed. “I’m a genius. I love it.”

Diana almost choked. “My love life?”

“Yes. Things you’ve learned along the way. How you’d advise your younger self on the mistakes you’ve made.”

The only mistakes she’d made were not dating enough men. She’d never had a one-night stand. She’d never gone on a blind date. Each one of her relationships had been exactly alike: Same type of guy—professional, conservative, and wealthy; same length— nine months to a year; same result—her walking away because things had become boring. She had no experience with heartache and none of the euphoria of new love. “Miriam, I’m not as experienced as you might think.”

“Well, that could work, too. You could get out there and write about your search for Mr. Right. I want your perspective on the whole thing as a therapist and a single woman. I’ll let the publisher know we’ve settled on an idea, you get me the detailed proposal in two weeks. Sound good?”

Diana froze. A memoir about her non-existent love life? “It’d be more like looking for Mr. Wrong.”

“Even better! A book on the pitfalls of dating and how to handle them. In fact, forget about finding Mr. Right. Get out there and have some dating disasters.”

“I’m sure I can manage that.”

“Great.” Miriam hung up.

Diana gripped the arms of her chair in the tiny office in her apartment and reminded herself to take deep breaths. She dropped her head back and groaned. How in the hell was she going to pull this off? Her love life had never been dramatic. Things always just fizzled out with the men she dated. Her mother had drummed into her head from an early age that Diana needed to support herself. Diana’s father had left when she was toddler and her brother was just a baby, leaving her mother to scramble for a job to keep the family afloat. So, while Diana longed for a family of her own, her career always came first—and it showed in her relationships. That wasn’t very interesting. How was she going to orchestrate dating disasters? She wasn’t a hot mess or a drama queen.

She twirled her pencil between her fingers. If dating the same professional, reliable men always led to the same result, then she had to start dating totally different men. Men who seemed entirely unsuitable for her.

She jumped up and looked around the room as if the perfectly bad guy was hiding behind the curtains in the bright, airy room. How was she supposed to find Mr. Wrong? It’s not like she’d gone out trolling for her past boyfriends. She’d met all of them at charity events or friends’ parties. She couldn’t start there if she wanted to meet someone different. Diana paced the office, her heels clunking on the hardwood floor.

Her brother had a string of ex-girlfriends. He was great at being Mr. Wrong. She called him up and made plans to meet him for drinks that night. And maybe she’d find a bad boy at the bar once she was done interrogating her brother. Her clients met disappointing men at bars all the time. If she wanted to find Mr. Never-No-Way, that would be a great place to start.

She dashed into her bedroom to choose the perfect outfit for picking up the wrong type of guy. But after trying on six different pantsuits, she realized she’d never attract any attention walking into a bar in a double-breasted blazer. A trip to the mall was needed before she went searching for bad boys. She didn’t even have any girlfriends she could trust with shopping for this adventure; they’d all automatically steer her toward Ann Taylor or Talbots. No, Diana would have to do this on her own.

Two malls and six stores later, she had a new wardrobe consisting of shorter skirts, higher heels, and skimpier tops. And absolutely no barrettes or headbands. “Leave your hair down, you look less uptight,” one of the sales girls had told her. “It’s like, super pretty for someone your age,” another teenager added. After downing a milkshake at the food court to get over that slam, she reminded herself that thirty-three really isn’t that old these days.

And Diana was going to out with lots and lots of perfectly wrong men to prove it.

***

Toby Carter nodded and smiled over dinner, as his girlfriend detailed the pros and cons of the apartment complex she was going to buy. “What do you think?”

He pushed aside his plate. “I think we’re going to have to kiss our cruise goodbye this summer. You’ll be too busy with this latest project.”

Lorna shrugged without looking up from her phone. “So we move the trip back to the fall, or maybe next spring. I have to get this complex. My portfolio isn’t diversified enough. If the market ever crashes again—no, when it crashes again—this rental income will be a good cushion.”

Toby snaked his arm around her shoulder and lowered his voice. “The only kind of cushions I want to talk about are the ones on my couch where we should go right now and do it.”

She removed his hand from her shoulder. “Focus on the rental.”

He sighed and sat back in his seat. “Fine. Speaking of real estate, I was thinking about buying a beach house in Miami. What do you say we do a little house hunting down there this weekend?”

She sighed, like he was a foolish boy she had to correct yet again. “Toby, I’m going to have to spend the weekend checking out other apartment buildings to be sure I’m getting the right one.”

Toby poured himself more wine. When he’d first inherited the surprise windfall from his mother, he’d been very careful not to hook up with bimbo spend-a-holics who partied too much, spent too much, and cared too little. So he’d sought out professional businesswomen, who hopefully valued a sizeable savings account the way he did. He’d continued working as a financial planner, and he was his own best client.

But Lorna wasn’t interested in his money; she wanted to be sure she didn’t find someone after hers. The most important quality a man could have was not needing her. “Lorna, we haven’t done anything spontaneous and fun in—ever.”

She didn’t look up from her phone. “I can’t afford to be spontaneous and fun.”

“Yes, you can. And so can I. We could take ten fabulous trips and it wouldn’t ding our bottom line.”

She pouted. “You don’t understand me at all or what’s important to me.”

Toby leaned forward and lowered his voice. “And you don’t understand what’s important to me.”

She looked up at him, her green eyes that once enchanted him now hard and cold. “Money. Success. Security.”

“They’re on the list. But things like fun, travel, just enjoying myself? Those are currently trending much higher in my world.”

“Toby…”

He finished the last of his drink, while Lorna kept her eyes glued to her phone. “Maybe we should take a break, Lorna. See if our priorities match up after a little time apart.” He stood up.

She rolled her eyes, looking up at him for a moment. “Fine. I’ll go to Miami with you. I can do my research online.” Her gaze returned to her screen.

“You would, wouldn’t you?”

This time she didn’t even look at him.

“We definitely need a break. I’ll talk to you in a few weeks.”

“Who will I take to the Daffodil ball?” Finally, she sounded concerned.

“Your realtor?”

She thought about it for a moment and shrugged. “That might work.”

“Goodbye, Lorna.”

She waved at him while tapping away on her phone. “We’ll talk in a few weeks.”

No we won’t
.

He left the restaurant and climbed into his waiting car outside. “Just take me home, George,” he told the driver.

“And Miss Smith?”

“We won’t be seeing her again.”

“I see.” George started the engine and headed for home.

Damn, Toby needed to get out to the kind of bars he went to before the millions in his mother’s surprise inheritance landed in his lap. He needed to find a woman who didn’t follow the Federal Reserve chairman on Twitter—who didn’t discuss the Dodd-Frank act endlessly. One who did shots. Body shots. Who could leave her cell home for the night without breaking out in hives.