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Authors: Sheila Roberts

Bikini Season (23 page)

BOOK: Bikini Season
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Pamela was behind her now. “Rent is not an issue, at least not for the first year. We're getting a really good deal.”
Megan frowned. “A deal on prime office space like this? How is that possible?”
Pamela linked an arm through Megan's and towed her out of the office. “Come on. We're going out to lunch where all will become clear.”
Megan balked. “What are you getting us into?”
“Don't worry,” Pamela said, moving her along again.
“Oh, I'm not,” Megan said, “because if this stinks I'm not doing it.”
“Believe me. The only thing this deal smells like is money.”
When they walked into Ruth's Chris Steak House Megan knew Pamela had suckered some hapless male into becoming their sugar daddy. Steak was a man's kind of lunch. And this steak house was a rich man's kind of place. And then the maître d' led them to their table and she saw her sugar daddy assessing her with those eagle eyes of his and her legs felt suddenly weak. “Tanner.”
He half stood and nodded a greeting. “You're looking good, Megan.”
Speaking of looking good, she thought as he flashed that rare smile. He was wearing his favorite black suit today. That combined with his dark hair and complexion always made him look like legal counsel for the Prince of Darkness.
“What are you doing here?” she blurted. Which, of course, sounded beyond stupid.
“I'm helping you,” he said simply.
The office space, of course. “But why? I didn't ask for your
help.” Now she sounded stupid and ungrateful. Pamela kicked her under the table, and she winced.
“No, you didn't. And that's why Pamela here is going to make a good partner for you. She has no problem asking for what she wants.” To Pamela he said, “The partners were shortsighted in their decision, and they'll probably live to regret it, especially now that you've teamed up with this thing,” he added, favoring Megan with one of his ironic smiles.
“We appreciate what you're doing,” Pamela said, and kicked Megan again.
Megan glared at her, then said to Tanner, “I don't see how you can be involved with us when you're already a longstanding partner at Weisman, Waters, and Green. That's a conflict of interest.”
He leaned back and slung an arm over his chair. “I'm not really involved. I happen to own a share in this building. I happen to have pulled some strings. That's all.”
“And now we happen to have a great office space for a song,” added Pamela. “Thank you, Tanner,” she added. “We really appreciate it.”
“One of you does,” he said, favoring Megan with his trademark sardonic smile.
“I appreciate it, too,” she said. “I really do. But why?”
“I told you that I like big cases and big battles, and that I'm not into tilting at windmills. But I never told you that I also like to watch a good fight. You two should provide me with endless entertainment. Now, shall we order drinks? I think champagne is in order.”
Megan suddenly felt like she was standing on the roof of that fancy building that would be their new home and experiencing vertigo. What if they failed? And what if, now that he'd invested in her, Tanner never kissed her again?
 
 
Erin sat at her desk and ate her yogurt with very little relish. What was the point? She was doing terrible. She wished she
hadn't stepped on her scale this morning. The needle hadn't even moved.
She shouldn't have been surprised, not after her relapse the other night. She should never have watched her DVD of
While You Were Sleeping
. She'd wound up running to the store partway into the movie and had come home with a humongous bag of Fritos, then proceeded to eat half of it in one sitting. Then, not wanting Adam to find the evidence, she'd brought the rest to work with her today and ate some more. At least she'd finally had the smarts to give the rest away. Fine time to find her willpower, after she'd slapped another pound on her middle. Dumb, dumb, dumb. At this rate she was never going to fit into her wedding dress. She was the only one of the Bikinis not having any success. The others were losing weight. She should be, too. And tomorrow they were all going out to eat at Brewsters' to celebrate St. Patrick's Day. Green beer, Brewsters' incredible Jojo's—there would be temptation everywhere.
But she'd be with her friends. They'd protect her from the JoJo's. And she would only have one beer. Then she'd have a salad tomorrow. She'd be fine. Everything would be fine. She only had twenty pounds to lose, for crying out loud. She had time. She'd be in her wedding dress by the middle of June, no problem.
She drummed her desktop, suddenly feeling a craving for something salty. She thought of the Fritos her coworker was consuming in the break room this very minute and tossed the last of her yogurt into her waste can. She was sure getting sick of yogurt.
 
 
The Maxwells and the Bakers arrived at Brewsters' at the same time, all of them wearing something green. The place was packed, with every table full. Mike, the owner, stood at the long bar framed by a big mirror and an array of bottles, working the taps and grinning. His wife, Samantha, as always, was seating people. Today she and all the wait staff wore green polo shirts over their slacks. She'd
dyed the tips of her short brown hair green and green shamrock earrings dangled from her ears.
“Happy St. Patty's Day,” she greeted the foursome. “You're all looking good.”
Yes, they were, thought Kizzy, who had lost an impressive twenty-four pounds. Tonight she was wearing a green blouse she hadn't fit into in years and she'd never felt better. Lionel was making progress, too, although tonight she'd teased him that he looked like an unripe tomato with legs in that big, oversized green T-shirt.
Angela had lost some of her momentum now that she wasn't worried about her husband, but she was at least keeping off the fourteen pounds she'd shed.
“I love your hair,” cried Angela, touching her fingers to the green fringe at the top of Samantha's head.
“Oh, I do that every year,” Samantha said. “Life is short. You've got to enjoy it.”
“I like the way you think,” said Lionel. He rubbed his hands together. “I'm ready for that green beer.”
“Then let's get you seated,” said Samantha, and led them to a window table.
Megan was the next to arrive. So far she had lost the most of all of the Bikinis, approaching her diet and exercise program like she was preparing for a Supreme Court case. And it was paying off. She'd lost twenty-seven pounds since January and she was starting to look good. Tonight she wore a brown wool poncho thrown over stretch jeans and a low-cut green top. The poncho was slimming and her boots gave her height. Kizzy noticed that a couple of men at the bar were taking in the new and improving Megan with approving glances. It wouldn't be long before she had a man in her life, Kizzy was sure.
“Oh, good,” she said, sliding into a seat. “I'm not the last one here. Freeway traffic is a mess tonight.”
“It's a mess every night,” Kizzy said, glad she lived and worked
in Heart Lake. The commute from her kitchen shop to home took her a whopping seven minutes.
Erin and Adam were the last to arrive. Kizzy noticed that Erin was wearing a baggy sweater (green, of course) over her jeans. She knew that hide-the-flab ploy from personal experience. Poor Erin. She was having the hardest time of all of them to keep on track with her diet. It seemed like every time she lost a couple of pounds something would happen either at work or with Adam and then she'd be back binging on the chips again. Judging from the outfit, this had been a binge week.
“This was such a good idea,” she said to Angela as they settled in. “After what Gregory put me through today I am so ready for a beer. But just one,” she added.
Next to her, Adam flashed a smile that should have been on a billboard somewhere. No doubt about it, the boy was one of the most gorgeous things God ever made. But Kizzy wasn't convinced he was the man God made for Erin.
And she was even less convinced when, after dinner, he informed Erin they had to pass on coffee and some DDR at Lionel and Kizzy's.
“Oh,” she said, sounding a little surprised.
“I'm afraid I've got to get back home and study,” he explained to the others.
It must not have been something he'd explained to Erin. She looked chagrined. “Sorry, guys. I didn't know.”
“How about a rain check?” Adam said to Kizzy.
“Sure.”
He shot that Colgate smile at everyone and said, “Good to see you all. See you at the wedding?”
“Yeah, see you,” Brad replied in a tone of voice that said he'd as soon not.
Adam took Erin's arm and, with one final flash of his pearly whites, steered her out of the restaurant.
“Is it just me or is that weird?” Megan said, watching them go.
Angela sighed. “I think it's normal for Adam.”
“I mean, he just took over,” Megan continued in disgust. “And I understand about having to study, but once you've made a commitment to do something with people … I mean, it was like he could barely wait to get away.”
“In all fairness to Adam, we invited him for dinner and he came for dinner,” Kizzy said. “And medical school is hard. I'm sure he did have to study.”
“Law school's no picnic, either, but nobody studies twenty-four /seven. He only had to come by the house for an hour,” Megan finished with a frown.
“The guy's a dickhead,” Brad said. “Let's forget about him and go have our coffee.”
The women got the message and dropped the subject. But back at the house, once they'd banished the men to the living room, they conferred in the kitchen under the guise of making coffee.
“Brad's right, you know,” said Megan. “Adam is a dickhead.”
“Okay, so he ditched us, but he's got some good qualities, I'm sure,” Kizzy said. What a lie! She wasn't sure at all.
Megan shook her head. “The jury's still out on that.”
 
 
“I still don't see why we couldn't have stopped by Kizzy's for a little bit,” Erin said as she and Adam walked into her house.
“Because a little bit would have turned into all night. And I wasn't lying. I do have to hit the books later.” He caught her and pulled her to him. “But first I wanted some time alone with you. You know, you should have moved in with me in January. Then we could have been together more.”
“You'd have just been studying anyway,” she said, still feeling a little pouty over the way he'd swooped her off.
“I could always find time for you, babe,” he said. “Now, come on. Kiss me. I'm Irish.”
She couldn't help smiling. “You are not.”
“I am for tonight,” he said, and kissed her.
A
ngela returned from her trip to Italy with dreamy eyes and six extra pounds. “But it was worth every one,” she informed the Bikinis as they gathered around Kizzy's kitchen island to sample each other's diet appetizers. “Venice is amazing. Brad is amazing. Do you know he'd been saving for this trip for two years?”
“That is impressive,” said Kizzy.
“Going to Venice on your anniversary, that is too romantic,” said Megan with a sigh.
“It was romantic. And fun, too. Brad is still my best friend.”
“Friends with benefits. Sounds good to me,” quipped Megan.
Erin smiled right along with the others, but behind her smile she felt a question lurking. Was Adam her best friend?
Best friends told each other everything, and there were some things she still hadn't told him. Like who paid for their flowers. And whose band was going to play for their wedding. She needed to tell him about the band, she decided, neatly sidestepping the issue of the flowers.
“We don't need to hire a DJ. I've got it covered,” she told him as they settled in to watch a DVD on Saturday night.
“You do? You never told me. Who?”
“The local band I've hired to play at Slugfest. They offered to do our wedding as a thank-you.”
Adam looked genuinely pleased. “No way.”
She nodded. “Way.”
“Good job, babe.”
“Thanks,” she murmured as he pulled her to him for a kiss.
You didn't tell him that the band belongs to Dan Rockwell
, scolded her inner mother.
No, but what did it matter who played at the wedding as long as she and Adam were dancing happily together?
 
 
The Heart Lake Slugfest, named after the Northwest's famous pest, was in full swing or, as Erin's boss liked to say, full slime—Gregory considered himself a real wit. Her team had actually pulled it together, adding a rock-climbing wall and a bounce house for the kids and bringing together what Gregory had rhapsodized over as the best arts and crafts fair yet. In addition to Dan's band, one of the girls on Erin's team had found them another act, a rapper named B-Kool, who was serving as a warm-up for Dan's band. Erin thought a better name for the guy should have been B-Bad, but he was drawing a crowd so she didn't care. The street dance officially started at eight, but for the first hour it would be more like a street mill, while people patronized the food booths, talked, and listened to the music and parents twirled their kids in circles. Later in the evening, things would really get rocking.
Now she stood at the edge of the beer garden, smiling over a job well done. It seemed like all of Heart Lake and at least half of Seattle had turned out. And most of them were in the beer garden, which occupied one entire side of the Safeway parking lot, conveniently located so people could easily drink and join the street
dancers. It was roped off by a low, white picket fence and decked out with little white twinkle lights and Chinese lanterns. People were enjoying themselves and it was getting rowdy. The revelers who got too rowdy would be escorted somewhere to dry out by one of the Heart Lake Police Department's finest, many of whom were picking up some overtime patrolling the event.
Erin sighed. She wished Adam would have come and kept her company. But of course, he had to study. “You don't need me there,” he'd told her. “You can do parties in your sleep, and I really have to hit the books this weekend.”
Of course, she'd understood.
“Looks like we've got a good crowd for our Slugfest debut,” said a voice at her elbow.
She turned and saw Dan Rockwell standing next to her, hands shoved in his jeans back pockets, surveying the crowd. With the jeans and his black, tight-fitting T-shirt and his slightly shaggy brown hair, he looked like a rocker, a sexy rocker. A couple of women walked past them and one of them looked Dan up and down in a way that invited him to look back.
“I see you're already collecting fans,” Erin observed.
“What can I say? When you're hot you're hot.”
“You'd better be hot up on stage or they'll throw empty beer bottles at you,” she teased.
“We will be.” Dan looked around her. “Where's your man?”
“Studying.”
Dan nodded thoughtfully. “He does a lot of that.”
“It's part of being a medical student. It will be different once he's an intern.”
“Yeah, then you'll really never see him.”
“I'll see him,” Erin said. She looked at her watch. “Isn't it about time for you to go on?”
“As a matter of fact, it is. Wish me lucks?”
“Break a leg,” she said, and turned her back on him.
It wasn't as easy to turn her back on his music, especially the
love songs. There was something about them that made her feel so … lonely. Of course you're lonely, she told herself, Adam isn't here with you.
“Great band,” Samantha told her when she stopped by the Brewsters' beer garden booth to see how they were doing.
Kizzy and Lionel were there, buying beer and pretzels. “Light beer,” Kizzy was quick to explain.
“You may as well not drink beer at all if you're going to swill that stuff,” Samantha sneered.
“It's better than nothing,” Lionel said.
“This is great,” Kizzy said, surveying the makeshift fairground with its arts and crafts booths, big kid toys, and the dance and refreshment area. Below the Safeway in the Heart Lake Park, kids were enjoying pony rides, while couples rented swan-shaped pedal boats for a romantic interlude on the lake. The air smelled like cotton candy and elephant ears. “And it's not even raining,” she added. “Did you phone in a special request to the weatherman?”
“I went a little higher up than him,” Erin said with a smile. She saw Angela and her family and waved at them.
Angela pointed Brad and the girls toward the pony rides, then came over to say hi. “This is great,” she congratulated Erin. “The girls are having a blast.”
“I think everyone is,” Erin said happily. And next year she'd top it.
Except next year she probably wouldn't be here.
People party in New York, she reminded herself.
The band finished their first set, then stopped for a break, and the sound guys switched to preprogrammed music.
“Looks like the band's going to take us up on our free drink offer,” said Samantha.
Even before she turned around, Erin knew she'd see Dan Rockwell. She'd gone years with never seeing him except at Christmas, and now every time she turned around there he was, getting under her skin like a giant tick.
“You guys are good,” Mike greeted him.
“Ready for that free beer?” added Samantha.
“I could go for a brew,” Dan said amiably. He smiled at Erin. “Great crowd.”
She looked around, pleased. The pony rides were just closing down and parents were starting to lead tired children off to their cars, bright balloons bobbing along in their wake. Tweenies and teens darted in and out of the crowd and the beer garden was packed.
“Now it starts getting really good,” Mike said with a grin. “The grown-ups will kick loose, drink a little more, dance a lot more.”
“And drink a little more,” Samantha added with a grin. “Kaching.”
“Remember, if someone's had too much you're cutting them off,” Erin reminded her.
Samantha looked offended. “Of course. We just want people to have fun. We don't want anyone to get killed.” She shot a look at her husband. “And speaking of fun.”
He held up a hand. “I know, I know. Don't worry. I'll dance with you before the night is over.”
“Dancing,” Dan said, setting down his drink. “There's a good idea. How about keeping the help happy?” he asked Erin, taking her hand.
Valentine's Day all over again? She didn't think so. “Oh, I don't—”
Samantha cut her off. “Go ahead. Unwind a little.”
“I don't think Adam—”
“Is going to care if you dance one dance with an old friend,” Dan finished for her. “Let's take a vote. All in favor of the boss having fun for three minutes say aye.”
“Aye,” everyone chorused.
“It's like Vegas,” Samantha added. “What happens at Slugfest stays at Slugfest.”
That was all the encouragement Dan needed. He towed Erin over to the middle of the street where the die-hard street dancers were now going at it to Wreckless Eric's “Whole Wide World.”
“I shouldn't be dancing with you. I'm engaged,” she said sternly
as he put an arm around her and started them doing some kind of crazy swaying thing. She suddenly felt like a contestant on
Dancing With the Stars.
“I don't know how to dance like this. What are you doing?”
“Having fun.”
“I'm glad someone is.”
He shook his head at her. “Just relax and let go. I'll lead you.”
She didn't want to relax and let go, and she didn't want Dan to lead her anywhere. She was just about to say so when he pulled her against him and spun them in a circle.
Zing.
Then he pushed her away from him and twirled her back under his arm, wedging her up against his chest.
Zing, zing.
“Okay, how about this move?” he said, and spun her in a whole new way.
Several people clapped and somewhere in back of them a woman howled.
“All right, big finale,” Dan said. “Trust me.”
“What are you … ?” She didn't have time to finish the sentence. In one smooth move, he flipped her completely over, making her feel like she was on some wild ride at the amusement park. The Dance-O-Tilt. Every endorphin in her brain stood up and cheered. So did the crowd they had now gathered.
The song came to an end and people applauded. “That was awesome,” a kid with a face full of piercings told Dan.
“Do you rent him out?” joked a middle-aged woman.
“He's not for rent. He's free,” Erin said. Okay, enough fun. It was time to go now, before she did any more zinging while she was on duty. “Thanks,” she said to Dan, and started to walk away.
“That's all you're good for? One dance?”
“Got to get back to work. I am on duty, you know.”
“Hey, I'm on duty, too, but that's not going to stop me from having some fun,” he said.
“That woman is interested,” Erin told him, nodding to where the middle-aged woman stood with her friends. “Actually, it looks
like you've got a lot of interested customers,” she added, taking in the group leer.
Dan made a face. “A little too old for me. I have standards, you know.”
“So do I. You're lucky I lowered them for one dance.”
“Once a cheerleader always a cheerleader,” he taunted.
She almost retorted, “Once a dork, always a dork.” But somehow, she couldn't get out the words. She told herself it was because that would be mean. “I need to go check in with the rest of my staff.”
“Come on. One more dance won't hurt.”
The next dance is bound to be a slow one,
warned her inner mother.
That would not be a good idea.
“One dance,” he said softly, taking her arm and giving her little tug toward him.
Sure enough, her inner mother was right. It was a slow dance. But it was too late to leave now. She didn't want to make a scene.
So she let Dan draw her to him and slide an arm around her. It was just a dance.
“Where did you learn to dance like that?” she asked.
“I took lessons once with an old girlfriend.”
The remark stirred up an odd mixture of curiosity and irritation in Erin.
He cocked his head and smiled. “Don't look so shocked. Some women like dorks.”
Erin felt her cheeks warming. “I did call you that once, didn't I?”
“Or twice.”
“Okay, I'm undorking you now. Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” he murmured, and drew her closer.
It was almost scary how well their bodies fit together.
They may fit together, but they don't belong together. You're engaged,
her inner mother scolded.
We're just friends; she argued, and to prove it, she started making conversation. “So what happened to the old girlfriend?”
BOOK: Bikini Season
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