Hot Flash (25 page)

Stephen grinned. “Yeah, but you’re prejudiced.”

“I am, a little, but your talent is obvious to everyone.”

Stephen looked intently at Davin. “Do I have time to go see Tom before dinner? I can’t wait to tell him.”

“Sure,” Davin said, then paused and glanced my way, the sinful undercurrent still zapping between us. “If it’s okay with your mother, that is.”

I wondered when either of them would remember who the parent was around here.

“That’s fine,” I replied. It would give me time to cook something before my date with Salesman Number Three, the guy who might be the man of my dreams, not the featured player in my night sweats. Maybe I’d prepare mac and cheese to celebrate Stephen’s acceptance? Although I didn’t at all feel like celebrating. I wanted to mourn. I had to bite my tongue to keep from asking Stephen why he couldn’t attend a local college.

With a swift wave, Stephen darted out the front door and I realized he’d soon be darting off to college. I didn’t want to think about what it would be like to come home to an empty apartment and only cooking for one, if I bothered to cook at all.

I sniffed the air. Was that the aroma of cooking food? Or had the odor simply clung to my hair? “I hope you didn’t make dinner again?”

“Sure did.” Davin patted the sofa beside him. “I’m hoping to talk about the other day.”

I didn’t want to talk about what had happened between us, ever, ever, ever. But I was a mature adult, or at least I passed for one. Mature adults deal with the consequences of their own actions. I owed it to Davin to be honest with him. I merely didn’t want to do it right that minute. “We do need to talk, but this isn’t a good time.”

“What about the broken condom? What if you’re … “

He trailed off, but I knew what he meant, especially since he was staring at my stomach. “I’m not pregnant.”

“How can you be sure?”

“The pill.”

“We should talk anyway.”

“Maybe we can do it tomorrow or next week?” I would not look at his lips—or his hands. I glanced down at Stephen’s discarded letter, hiding from Davin behind my curtain of hair. “I’m sorry you went to the trouble of making dinner, because I have plans tonight.”

“What kind of plans?”

“The kind of plans that involve eating somewhere else and genial dinner conversation.”

“With your girlfriends? I’d like to meet them.”

I shook my head, the hair parting enough so I could see his face. “I’m not meeting them tonight.”

He seemed dumbfounded for a moment. “You’ve got a date?”

“Give yourself a gold star.” I was being bitchy, but dammit, I had every right to feel bitchy. Men sow their oats all over the place, but it’s always the women who have to deal with the consequences of oat overflow, even if it’s only being on the Pill.

Davin rose from the sofa and took a step toward me. “I was thinking that you and I—”

“Don’t even consider it,” I interrupted, and held up my hand to keep him back. “Don’t put
you
and
me
into the same sentence. It’s not going to happen.”

“The other night—”

“Was just one of those things.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Davin, I made lov—” I cut myself off and started over. “We had sex the other night because of my raging hormones induced by premenopause and lust. It was a one night stand.”

He shook his head. “You’re not the type for one night stands. You’re the kind of woman a man brings home to meet his mother.”

I yanked the remaining hair out of my eyes. “Wasn’t it only a couple of weeks ago that you were accusing me of being a party girl?”

“You sound like some men I know, but I never said you were a party girl.” His voice was calm as he added, “For what it’s worth, you’re wrong about it being just one of
those
things.”

“I doubt it. We’re great when it comes to sex, but we are not a fit when it comes to what we want in life.”

“You fit me just fine.”

I threw my arms upward in frustration.

“What do you want in life that’s so different from me?” he asked.

I was not in the mood to talk about this. If I wasn’t so certain about the kind of man who’d mesh with my lifestyle, who’d suit my needs, I’d … I didn’t want to go there. “Look, Davin, you’re a great guy. A perfect guy—just not for me.”

“What if I’m right? What if we’d be good together?”

It was time to take another tack. I breathed deeply. “You’re too young to know whether or not we’d be good together. That’s the problem with you. Lack of maturity.”

“I may be a few years younger, but I don’t lack experience.” He came closer and brushed away a strand of hair that had managed to fall back over my left eye. “What if you’re wrong?”

I shook his hand away. “I’ll have to take the chance.”

“I thought we were friends.”

Friends? That was a new one—unless friendship is defined by how much the other person annoys you? “I suppose we’re friends, but partners in lust seems more apt. Look, Davin, I’d love to stick around and chat, but I have to get ready now.”

“Fine. Stephen should be back soon. If you don’t mind, I’ll stick around and have dinner with him?”

“Stephen would like that.” Davin was such a nice guy and handling everything so well, I felt guilty for being so bitchy. “Sorry I’m so grouchy.”

“You aren’t. You needed to bring what you were feeling out into the open.”

I most definitely hadn’t brought what I felt out in the open. If I had, I’d probably need to buy stock in whichever pharmaceutical company produces condoms.

What was I feeling?

A mixture of antagonism and desire. And a tiny, minuscule, almost invisible bit of regret. The best thing for both of us, though, was to go our own ways. “Well, thanks for bringing dinner. Next time you’re in the mood to cook, check with me ahead of time. Okay?”

“You got it.”

That was when I noticed the vase filled with fresh gladiolas sitting on the kitchen counter.

I looked back at Davin and said softly, “You brought me flowers?”

“Yeah.” He looked a bit sheepish. “I sort of thought you and I …”

He trailed off, and again I knew what he meant.

I shot him a don’t-go-there look and, then turned away. As I headed for my bedroom, I thought,
God, he’s such a nice guy
.

If only he were a few years older, I might have encouraged him to take up a new hobby—like getting his pilot’s license or becoming a cruise ship director. Anything that would pay well and frequently take him out of town.

When you’re married, you tend to look back on dating with a certain fondness. After you’re divorced, you tend to look on dating with a great deal of trepidation.

Sure, I was a tad excited about what might happen between Greg and me. As I entered his hotel, I felt more frantic than perky. There was a slight tremble to my hands and my heart beat much faster than usual. After two truly sucky dates, Stephen’s pending desertion, my almost-desperate need for college tuition, and everything going on with the sperm donor, it was difficult to work up any exuberance over the night ahead.

I tried to shake off my mood because Greg seemed like lots of fun. I was experienced enough to know that new dates were rarely personality fits. I was too aware of what could, and most likely would, go wrong.

Greg had suggested meeting at his hotel so I could try out his Purple People Mover. Upon reaching the lobby, I called up to his room on the house phone.

“We’re celebrating tonight,” he said.

“We are?”

“Yup. Tell you all about it when you get up here. Meet me outside my room so we can practice your People Moving skills in the hallway.”

“I’m on my way.”

Within minutes, as I exited the elevator on his floor, he came zooming up on his Purple People Mover. “Hey there.”

“Hey, yourself,” I said with a smile as he circled me.

“Let’s go to my room. I’ve got one of these for you to use.”

“I get to ride by myself?”

“Why not? The more, the merrier. I told you, we’re celebrating.”

We made our way down the hall, with him doing little happy circles with his People Mover. I asked, “Exactly what’s got you so excited?”

“I bought my dream house today.”

“Cool! Tell me about it.” Considering how far away my dream house seemed, I looked forward to hearing about his.

He described the house, and it sounded enormous, then he named a lush Vegas neighborhood that was even more expensive than it was prestigious.

“Wow. People Moving must be a great business.”

“It is. In six weeks I’m relocating here to set up a regional sales office. I can’t wait.”

We reached his room and he quickly handed his People Mover to me, then opened his door and grabbed another to use himself.

His mood was contagious and my worries dissipated as he taught me how to use the People Mover.

Fifteen minutes of instruction later, he said, “I think you’re ready to take this thing on the road. You’re a fast study.”

“That’s what all my dates tell me.” I waggled my eyebrows and he laughed while pushing the button to call an elevator.

“Where are we going?”

“The hotel has a great all-you-can-eat lobster bar tonight. I tried it on a trip last year and was impressed. Since we’re celebrating, I hope that sounds okay to you?”

“It sounds better than okay. I love lobster.”

As we scooted through the mezzanine, through banks of slot machines and flashing lights, people stopped and watched us. Greg waved at gawkers and I soon felt confident enough to use only one hand now and then, so I could join him in the waving. My Purple People Mover was lots of fun.

We reached the restaurant before long, where I learned Greg had made prior arrangements for them to safely stow our People Movers and seat us at a nice table looking out on the strip.

“This is very nice.” I noted the romantic lighting and inviting atmosphere.

“Would you prefer to dine
beneath
the table?”

“Very funny. Trust me that was
all
Connie’s idea of amusement.”

“I’m relieved to hear that, but wanted to make the offer, just in case.” When he smiled, I noticed tiny laugh lines near his eyes, which seemed sort of endearing and made me like him even more. There’s something extremely appealing about a man who laughs often.

The waiter came up, took our orders, then served a perfectly chilled white wine I hadn’t tried before. It was crisp and delicious and would go perfectly with lobster.

Greg chatted about traveling, and I watched how animated he was when talking about new experiences and unusual places he’d visited. It didn’t hurt that he was really cute, too, with lively blue-green eyes and a quick smile.

By the time I’d eaten an unconscionable amount of lobster, I was feeling very friendly toward Greg. He made me feel as if I was interesting, with the way he drew out my thoughts on various subjects. With the approving gleam in his eyes, he made me feel very attractive, too.

I smiled at him.

“Your mount awaits, my sweet,” he said, pointing toward our People Movers. He’d already taken care of the bill, and I’d silently rejoiced that for once I didn’t have to pay.

“I think you’re ready for a spin around the Strip. What do you say?”

“Maybe we should walk off some of that lobster.”

“This’ll be more fun.”

“You’re right,” I agreed.

We left the restaurant on our mounts, and headed for the great outdoors, namely the very busy Las Vegas Strip.

It was as brightly lit as midday, with an almost-full moon that could still be discerned over all the lights. Although I couldn’t make out any stars, it was gorgeous.

As we zoomed along, tourists gawked, pointed, and some even stopped us to ask about our Purple People Movers. Greg handed out business cards and told them to call for information since we were on a date.

“You sure know how to treat a girl.” I made a little loop around him.

“Do you say that to all your men?” he quipped.

“Only ones who treat me to lobster and Purple People Movers.”

We stopped in front of the fountain at the Bellagio and watched part of the water show, but Greg caught me yawning.

“Are you tired?”

“A little. How about you?”

“Me, too. Let’s head back now. I’ve got a bottle of wine in my room and we can toast my new house.”

I nodded, pleasure playing about my lips. It sounded about perfect. Everything had gone so well I could barely keep the idea of “auditioning” him out of my thoughts. My first two dates with salesmen hadn’t progressed far enough to get to the audition stage, but everything was different with Greg.

Spending time with a mature man,
a grown-up
, who shared my interests was a novelty. Better yet, he was well-traveled and didn’t seem inclined to stop traveling any time soon. He made me feel smart, desirable, and best of all, he made me laugh.

Besides, during my loop around him, I’d checked out his derriere. It was A-1 prime, UPS-brown-shorts quality.

We made quick work of returning to the hotel and it didn’t take long to reach his room. He opened his door and clicked on the light. “I’ll take care of these.” He motioned to our People Movers. “Have a seat.”