You Had Me at Good-bye Page 11

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Come on. Every time Jack Quinn gets close to you, she’s all over him.”

  I just learned something new about my little brother. Two things, really. He’s extremely observant, and he’s on my side. The latter revelation makes me smile.

  “She is his date, Brandon.”

  He shakes his head. “Uh-uh.”

  “Yes.” I distinctly remember Sheri asking him if this is the way he treats his dates.

  “Sheri came alone. I saw her come in. Jack was on the other side of the bowling alley, talking to you.” He laughs. “You should have seen the look on her face when she saw the two of you.”

  Like I said, very observant kid.

  My heart lifts at the news. “So, are you having a good time?”

  He shrugs and gives me a half-grin. “Better than staying at Dad’s.”

  The way he says “Dad’s” hits me hard. I wonder how long it’s going to take for me to get used to someone else calling him that.

  It’s our turn at the counter. “What can I get for ya?” The gum-chewing teenybop girl is looking straight at Brandon, her eyes glowing. He preens but tries to pretend he barely sees her as he makes his order.

  Amazing, the power of male-female attraction. I’m feeling a little of that myself tonight.

  Back at the table, I set Sheri’s diet soda on the table in front of her. She reaches for her purse, but I wave it away. “It’s on me.”

  Ignoring me, she lifts out a fifty-dollar bill and slides it across the table. How much does she think sodas go for these days? “Don’t be silly, Dancy. I couldn’t possibly let you pay when you’re not working right now. We were just talking about your suspension.”

  My glare includes everyone at the table. “It’s not exactly a suspension. I’m on a four-week vacation.” I give her a pointed look. “Paid. So I can afford the Diet Coke.” I push the bill back across the table and grab my chili dog to show her the topic is closed.

  Only she isn’t very good at taking a hint. “I insist, really. Remember my promotion?”

  The reminder hits me just as a glob of chili lands on my light pink tee. I think she orchestrated the whole thing just to humiliate me.

  “That’s great, Sheri,” I say, standing with as much dignity as I can possibly muster. “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you, cousin.” She pulls out a Tide stick and hands it to me.

  I want to refuse, but of course, I don’t.

  “I’ll be back,” I mumble, completely defeated. My gaze sweeps the group and lands on Jack.

  A little frown creases his brow as he stares back at me. I don’t blame him. It’s no wonder he still sees me as Kale’s dumb little sister. At this moment, that’s exactly how I feel.

  9

  How was it that John Quest showed up everywhere Valerie happened to be? It was one thing in Chicago, when their paths were likely to cross at an event or something job related, but there was no question in Valerie’s mind as she stared across the pavilion where the children ate and there he was, standing tall and strong and staring straight back at her—he was following her. But how could she forgive him? If it weren’t for him, she’d still be working in the field she loved.

  He covered the distance between them in a few long strides, until they stood face-to-face. When he looked at her, she felt beautiful.

  —An excerpt from Fifth Avenue Princess

  by Dancy Ames

  Laini and Tabby make it home from the cast party twenty minutes after I get back. They bring cheesecake from Nick’s, so we sit together at the table and rehash our evening. Tabby and David danced with the twins, and Laini got hit on by the new guy on the set, who has a recurring role as a tough guy who mugs Tabby’s character, Felicia Fontaine.

  “So? Are you going to go out with him?” I ask, glad to keep the attention off myself for the moment.

  Laini shrugs. “I said we could have coffee sometime.”

  Tabby smiles. “Jeremy is really sweet. He’s perfect for you.”

  “So,” Laini says to me. “What did you do all evening? Get a lot of writing done?” I’ve sworn Tabby and Laini to secrecy about my novel, but they can’t help asking about it.

  I’m tempted to lie, but before I can form my thoughts into a good fib, I spill the whole thing. Everything from bowling to Jack Quinn saying I’m a “lovely young woman” to Sheri showing her claws to the glob of chili that didn’t come out, even with the Tide stick.

  Tabby lets out a low whistle. “You think you would have kissed him if Sheri hadn’t interrupted?”

  I frown and shake my head firmly. “I don’t think so. We would have talked for a few minutes, and then he would have reminded himself that I’m a subordinate at work.” Glumly, I spoon cheesecake into my mouth. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore.”

  My friends stare at me for a second.

  “What?” I say. “I mean it. Let’s talk about something else.”

  “Okay, then we’ll talk about me,” Laini says, enthusiasm lilting her voice. “Guess what?”

  “You got a good grade in one of your classes?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Don’t I wish? This is even better. Wait’ll you hear this.”

  “Tell us!” I toss a napkin at her.

  She deflects it easily with a bubble of laughter. “The cinnamon rolls went over so well the other day that Nick wants me to bake two dozen every day next week. If they sell, he wants to make it a permanent arrangement.”

  A genuine smile splits my face. “Laini, that’s fabulous. The last two days we’ve sold out in an hour, so two dozen are going to sell easily. Congratulations.”

  She sighs. “It makes me feel good to be contributing something.”

  Poor Laini. Her self-esteem has really taken a beating lately, between getting laid off at the accounting firm and doing so poorly in interior design school. Baking has become cathartic for her. I’m glad she’s going to be able to profit from it. And it won’t hurt to have the apartment smelling of yummy baked treats all the time, either.

  “I have an announcement too,” Tabby speaks up.

  “Finally set a wedding date?” I ask sardonically, slipping another forkful of sweet cheesecake into my mouth. I really must go running tomorrow. No excuses!

  “Yes!” Tabby bounces in her chair like a giggly teen.

  Laini and I gasp. I was just kidding. With their busy schedules, I was beginning to doubt Tabby was ever actually going to become David’s wife.

  “When?”

  “The Saturday after Christmas.” She grins. “Think you can make it? I have a couple of bridesmaid spots open.” Her sister, of course, will be matron of honor.

  “I wouldn’t miss it for anything, Tab,” Laini says, sniffling like this is the first she’s heard that Tabby’s getting married. The girl’s been engaged for months.

  “A Christmas wedding!” I say, jubilant at my friend’s happiness.

  “Technically, after Christmas. We didn’t want to take any chances on our family and friends not being able to make it. But we’re still going with Christmas colors.”

  Laini gives a groan. “Are you kidding me? Red?” Laini’s freckled skin and red hair don’t mix well with red clothes.

  We turn to her, and silence reigns supreme for a second as we consider the implication. I give a mock gasp. “Tabs! We aren’t wearing Mrs. Claus costumes, are we?”

  “Don’t give me any ideas. You know we actresses can’t bear it if anyone looks prettier than we do. And you will most certainly be the two most gorgeous women present.” She turns to me. “Dancy, with that dark hair and dark skin, in a red shimmering gown.”

  Laini groans again.

  “And you, my friend,” Tabby says with a tender smile, “will be just as beautiful in a gown of deep green. Shelly is going to wear green as well, and the flower girl—my sweet Jenn, of course—will wear red to match you, Dan.” She takes a nervous breath and looks at us for approval. “Wel
l?”

  “Perfect,” Laini utters. “I would have worn the red for you, but thank God you’re going to put me in green.”

  I have always sworn I’ll never do the bridesmaid thing. But for Tabby I’ll make an exception, and for Laini too, I suppose, when the time comes.

  Even the most independent of girls can’t help but get caught up in romance when her best friend is planning the wedding of her dreams. We talk late into the night, dreaming and hoping and imagining what sort of day it will be when the first of the three of us walks down the aisle. Three different bride magazines rotate between us as we ooh and ahh over decorations, flowers, and of course, gowns.

  I slip into bed, floating on a cloud, dreaming of another wedding. One where I get to be the one in white. I’m not telling who the groom is. Seriously, my lips are sealed.

  I manage to stay awake long enough for the preacher to say, “You may now kiss the bride . . .”

  Nick has hired two employees, so I’m off the hook as far as working at the coffee shop on a regular basis. I still find myself gravitating toward Nick’s for coffee every day, though. I just can’t stand to be alone in that apartment with nothing to do. So during extremely busy times, I still hop up to bus a table every now and then.

  Today they seem to have everything under control, so I pull out Granny’s Bible. Somewhere around Leviticus I gave up on my ironclad rule of never reading a book out of sequence. I doubt even the most devout of believers could read that book without falling asleep. I have to say, I’m fascinated with the romantic portions of the Bible, though. Isaac and Rebekah, Jacob and Rachel, Ruth and Boaz, Hosea and Gomer. The Bible is an amazingly romantic book.

  Every time Nick passes by to refill my coffee cup, he gives me a proud nod and a smile. Finally, after the rush is over, he drops a plate with a chicken salad wrap on the table in front of me. “Eat up, princess.”

  “I didn’t order this, Nick.”

  “I know, but you gotta eat. And besides, I still owe you a lot.”

  I smile. “Thanks, Nick. I’ll take the wrap, but you know you don’t owe me a thing. I was glad to do it.”

  The chair across from me scrapes along the floor as Nick pulls it out and sits. “I notice you been reading the Bible.”

  “My granny left it to me when she died.” I take a bite of my glorious chicken salad wrap. Mayo and onion burst into my mouth, and I’m in heaven. “This is so good, Nick. You’re the best.”

  “Don’t change the subject. I want to talk about this new Bible-reading phase.”

  “Okay. Sorry.” I gulp down a mouthful of 2 percent milk.

  “Does this mean you believe in Jesus?”

  I stop at the way he phrased the question. There’s never been any question of belief. “It’s always been more of a trust issue than a belief issue for me, Nick.”

  “Trust? How can you do anything but trust God? He’s so big and powerful.”

  “I know, but I need to know why He doesn’t always use His power for everyone. It’s almost like He plays favorites.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you know how Kale got the condo?” Why can’t I just let that go?

  Nick leans forward, resting his massive forearms on the table. “Yeah, I remember.”

  “It feels like my parents favored him over me by giving him the condo just because he’s getting married first.”

  “What’s that got to do with God playing favorites?” Nick turns toward the kitchen. “’Ey, you two stop playing around and finish cleaning up.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Pantalone.”

  He shakes his head when he turns back to me. “Kids. Both of ’em put together can’t measure up to you.”

  I can’t help but laugh. I’ve suddenly risen on Nick’s list of employees. “Be patient. They’ll get better.”

  “Can’t get any worse, that’s for sure.” But his face splits with a smile. “Now, back to what we were saying.”

  I could kick myself for bringing up the issue of trust versus belief in God. “It’s really not worth discussing, Nick. Really, I don’t want to bore you.”

  “Don’t try to skirt around this, princess,” he says with a stern frown. “You brought it up, so let’s get it out and talk it over. If there’s one thing I can’t let slide by, it’s anyone calling God a liar.”

  My eyes go wide. “Nick! I never did that.”

  “You said you didn’t trust Him. That’s the same as saying He isn’t trustworthy.”

  “Okay, let’s suppose I am saying that.” I lean back and cross one leg over the other, swinging my foot a little to bolster my courage. “Okay, I used to pray that my dad would pay attention to me.”

  “What’s that got to do with God’s promises?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. I guess I just felt like if I asked God for help, He might help my dad love me a little.”

  “Your dad loves you, princess.”

  I give a short laugh. “How do you know that?”

  Nick gives me such a long and serious stare that I’m about to look away when he says, “You want to know how I know your dad loves you?”

  Silently, I nod.

  “Because, princess, any man would be proud to have a daughter like you. He can’t help but love you.”

  My jaw goes slack. Nick winks and looks like he’s about to say something more when a crash from the kitchen turns his smile into a scowl. “What happened? These kids are going to kill me.”

  “Thanks, Nick.”

  He waves away my thanks and hauls himself back to the kitchen.

  I’m still basking in the glow of Nick’s praise when my cell phone vibrates against my hip and nearly scares me out of my skin. I look down and recognize the number for Lane Publishing. My heart lifts, because it’s the first time in almost three weeks I’ve seen that number. “This is Dancy,” I say.

  “Hi, Dancy. It’s Crystal.” Jack’s assistant.

  “Hi, Crys, is everything all right?”

  “Jack asked me to call and schedule an appointment with you.”

  “What about?”

  “I really don’t have a clue. You know how Jack is.”

  “All right. When does he want me to come in?”

  “Uh, actually, he’d like to meet for dinner. Are you available this evening?”

  “Like a date?” Oh, darn. Of course not like a date. Jack has dinner meetings all the time. “Scratch that. I don’t know why I even said it. I know better.”

  Crystal laughs. “Don’t worry about it. I understand.”

  I give an inward groan. And I feel I must defend myself. “Truly, Crys. I was just going to say there’s no way I’m meeting him for a date. Then I realized he meant a dinner appointment. Believe me,” I say in a way-too-desperate tone, “Jack Quinn is definitely not my type.”

  “Sure he’s not. Because perhaps you’re not breathing.”

  I can see there will be no convincing her that I’m not panting for her boss, so I simply try to recover as much dignity as I can under the circumstances. “Where would Jack like to meet for dinner tonight?”

  “He said Morton’s Steakhouse on Fifth Avenue. Do you need directions?”

  “No, we’ve been there before.” It’s a favorite of Jack’s. “What time?”

  “Looks like reservations are for eight. Will that work?”

  “He was pretty sure I’d say yes, wasn’t he?”

  “I doubt he’s too familiar with women saying no.”

  She’s probably right about that.

  I glance at my watch. I have exactly five hours to go home, scour my closet for something to wear, shower, shave my legs, and hop on the subway for my evening with Jack.

  “Hey, Nick,” I say after hanging up. “I have to go.”

  “Remember what I said, princess.”

  What he said? Oh, right. My dad loves me. “Thank you.” I slip Granny’s Bible into my Louis Vuitton handbag and leave listening to Nick hollering at his new help. My lips curve into a smile. I can imagine
how those poor kids feel.

  My curiosity is almost overwhelming as I stand in front of the closet thirty minutes later, trying to find something suitable that Jack hasn’t seen me wear a hundred times. “Stop it!” I say out loud. “This is Jack Quinn we’re talking about, and this is not a date. It’s business.”

  Refusing to allow myself one more second’s thought about it, I reach in and grab a nice, appropriate Ralph Lauren suit. It’s black and businesslike. Resisting the temptation to wear a lacy camisole under the jacket, I choose a simple white silk blouse instead. I will not have it said that I tried to flirt with Jack by dressing up for our date—I mean, business dinner.

  I finish dressing way too early to leave and have to fight the urge to binge on last night’s leftovers. By the time Tabby wanders through the door at five thirty, I’ve been working on my book for a good thirty minutes.

  I glance up from my laptop. “You’re home early.”

  “Yep. I’m staying home tonight. The twins have been out late every night this week and are very cranky. David is going to keep them in and put them to bed early. Besides, I need to go over lines for a new story line they’ve concocted.” She gives me a twinkle-eyed smile. “I get to play my evil twin for the next few months.”

  “I didn’t know Felicia Fontaine had a twin.”

  Tabby waggles her eyebrows and slips off her shoes at the door. “She does now.”

  I laugh. You gotta love the soaps. They kill people off, bring them back to life, give birth to babies, and three years later, when the story line dictates, age them to teenagers. They can do anything, and soap fans blink and accept. Try that with a book series and readers howl.

  Tabby gives me a once-over. “Where are you going?”

  “I have a business dinner later.” I can’t bring myself to tell her who I’m meeting. The omission sort of hangs out there in the silence until Tabby has had enough.

  “Are you being evasive on purpose, or do you genuinely think my curiosity gene has suddenly mutated into a to-each-his-own gene?”

  I give a resigned sigh. “Jack Quinn’s assistant called to set up a dinner appointment.”