Plum Girl (Romance) (14 page)

Oh, please.
What did her sister know? While she was audaciously diagnosing Cheryl Mew, Lonnie was tackling both her fears in Dominick's office, as well as tackling him.

"Do you mind?" Lonnie injected testily.

Peach held up both hands in a surrendering gesture. "Relax. I'm not perfect, either. For instance, I obviously have a debilitating fear of rejection, or I'd submit my portfolio to an advertising agency."

Lonnie was about to tease her sister and point out that fear of abandonment was fundamentally a fear of rejection, when she realized she was serious. Peach hadn't just been trying to make Cheryl feel better; she was genuinely insecure about her talent as an artist. Lonnie wanted to talk to her more about it, but there was no way she was breaking into a sister heart-to-heart in front of Cheryl Mew. Maybe Cheryl was an okay person, but she was still a stranger, and Lonnie honestly didn't know what to make of her mute, disciple-like reverence for Peach.

"Well, Professor, you'll be very happy to know that I'm cured." Lonnie allowed herself to indulge in a dramatic pause, and then finished, "Dominick's coming to the party tonight." With that, she stood up and headed toward the bathroom. "I'm taking a shower now, so—"

"Freeze!" Peach commanded. She pounced on the sofa enthusiastically and drew her knees up to her chin. "I want details."

She gave her the abridged version—again, the Cheryl factor—and when she was done, Peach heaved a big sigh, like she'd never been so relieved... or surprised. Really, had Lonnie been that hopeless of a case?

Okay, okay...

* * *

"If you ask me 'what time is it' one more time—"

"Peach."

"All right, all right." Peach opened her silver purse to take out her watch. "Hmm, it's eight-o-nine, which makes sense since it was two minutes ago when you asked what time it was, and I believe my answer was eight-o-seven."

"Okay, okay," Lonnie said hastily and looked out the subway window. Of course she only saw black since they were underground, but she was waiting to see the green sign for their stop. She'd told Dominick she'd meet him in the lobby of the Easton Hotel at eight o'clock. Now it was already ten minutes past that time, and they were still on the T. By the time they got to the hotel, it would probably be eight-thirty, and it was all her fault.

While Peach had gotten dressed early, Lonnie had waited, figuring she'd grab one of her tea-length dresses, put on some lipstick, and be out the door. Who was she kidding? She hated the way half her dresses looked, the way her hair looked, the way her ears looked. In other words, she was having one of those self-critical I'm-Medusa mental breakdowns that later made her feel sick with shame. Of course, Peach felt the need to point out that she'd never stressed over her appearance for Terry.

Ultimately, Lonnie chose a form-fitting, red satin dress that was covered in elegant black lace netting. It was long sleeve and came just below the knee, and she finished off the outfit with glittery black heels. Fine, she'd admit it: she was trying to look sexy for Dominick on their first official night together as more than friends.

As they hurried to the entrance to the Easton, Lonnie was about to ask what time it was again, but stopped as soon as she saw Dominick through the glass. He was sitting on a marble bench in the lobby of the hotel, looking gorgeous in a dark suit and deep red silk tie. "There he is," Peach said. "Oh, Lord. You two are already a lookalike couple. This is too much."

Lonnie was vaguely aware of her sister saying something, but was significantly more preoccupied with the pit burning a whole through her stomach. She couldn't believe the effect Dominick had on her; she prayed it was remotely mutual. They walked through the revolving door, and her eyes locked with his. He stood quickly and smiled. "Hey, you. Hi, Peach."

"Dominick," Lonnie blurted, "we're so sorry we're late! Have you been waiting long?"

He looked at his watch. "Uh... about twenty minutes," he said, grinning as if it were just so cute that she'd been late. Maybe this hopeless, starry-eyed infatuation wasn't just her.

"It was my fault," Peach offered. "Sorry."

But Dominick didn't seem the least bit concerned about laying blame. "This is for you," he said, and handed Lonnie one purple tulip.

"Thank you. It's so pretty!" It really was, and she'd always found red roses cliche.

"I hope you like tulips. I just think roses are sort of clichéd."

Kiss me.
"It's perfect."
Want me.
Lonnie ignored her quickening pulse, looked over at her sister, and said, "Let's go. The sooner I get in there, the sooner I can get blamed for anything that doesn't go right. Well, 'right' according to Twit's master plan that I'm expected to mind read."

"Gee, when you put it like that..." Peach said, and the three of them headed for the ballroom.

As soon as they walked into the party, Matt made a beeline for Peach. Lonnie reintroduced him to Dominick, and the four of them made small talk for about ten minutes before B.J. came over. She was a little surprised that Matt was there already. She figured he'd show up later since he made it clear he had better things to do than socialize with Twit & Bell people. But, then again, the party was probably a great place to make outside connections, especially if you were a networker. Matt was.

"Well, kids," B.J. began jovially, "looks like Lonnie's shindig is a success so far. Then again, the night's young, and you never know who's gonna get drunk and shake things up a little." He balled his fists enthusiastically—this time on the word "shake." Lonnie wasn't sure if it was her imagination or if something was different about B.J. Usually, he came off as trying too hard but still relatively pleased with life. Tonight he seemed edgy, though, and his normally easy smile was almost manic. On the other hand, she could've been reading too much into his manner because of what'd happened in the library earlier.

"B.J., this is Dominick. He works downstairs at GraphNet," Lonnie said, introducing them. "Dominick, B.J." After they shook hands amicably, Dominick's hand settled on the small of Lonnie's back. She could feel the heat from his hand through her satin dress, and when he started lightly grazing his fingertips back and forth, it made concentrating on B.J.'s latest tale of magnificence more difficult than usual.

"...of course, now I feel like a total shit," B.J. was saying, "because I promised to be at three different parties on New Year's Eve. Two are on the Cape and one's in the North End." Lonnie nodded with as much empathy as she could muster, but New Year's Eve had never been a holiday she celebrated. In fact, the few years that she'd gone to New Year's parties she'd gotten depressed halfway through the night. It always seemed like people were forcing it, and as far as she was concerned, noisemakers and streamers didn't make up for the fact that another year had slipped by.

"What about you? What are you two up to for New Year's?"

You two?
Lonnie felt like wringing B.J.'s pencil-thin neck. What if Dominick already had plans that didn't include her? By B.J. speaking about them as if they were a couple, he'd just steered the conversation in an awkward direction. Lonnie couldn't say "I don't know yet" because that implied she thought they were a couple, too. It was definitely too soon for that, and she didn't want to scare Dominick off. But she didn't want to say "nothing" in case he
was
free, and willing to make it a not-awful New Year's, after all.

"Actually, I'm not a big New Year's person," Dominick said conversationally. "Maybe I can persuade Lonnie to hang out with me. Just stay home and order a pizza that night, or something." He smiled down at her, and his good-natured grin nearly stole her breath.
Perfect answer.

She decided to take control of the conversation before B.J. unwittingly stuck his foot in it again. "So, has anyone tried the food yet?" she asked, curious about how Meijing had managed with the catering on such short notice. Matt looked away from Peach for a minute to answer.

"Yeah, it's really good," he said. "I didn't know we were having Chinese. Of course, I had to explain to B.J. that fried rice isn't finger food."

"I told you, I was just looking for a fork," B.J. protested, embarrassed but only mildly defiant.

"Right," Matt smirked. "Ever hear of
chopsticks?"
he asked rhetorically. "They were sitting right there." He snickered, and turned back to Peach. "By the way, are you hungry? Do you want me to get you something to eat?"

Lonnie watched her sister hesitate; then she smiled and said, "Yeah, let's both go over." Peach and Matt headed toward the buffet table, leaving Lonnie with B.J. and Dominick. Three words came to mind: beat it, B.J.

Luckily, he didn't feel like staying anyway. "I should probably go mingle with the bigwigs for a while. Nice meeting you, Dom. See ya later, Lonnie." He turned and left—some buoyancy missing from his usual swagger.

Good, now it was just her and Dominick. Shit, now it was just her and Dominick! Maybe it was ridiculous, but she still found herself on edge around him. She had a feeling it was equal parts sexual tension and uncertainty. She turned to face him, and his hand slid off her back and dropped to his side.

"So... I hope you're having fun so far," she said, smiling brightly. "But if you thought B.J. was odd, wait till you meet my boss."

He laughed. "Oh, yeah. I'm actually going to meet the famous Twit. Do you want me to have a talk with him about lightening up on you?" he kidded.

She squinted her eyes. "Oh, please! Talk about disempowering. No thanks."

He grinned. "Okay, okay, but don't say I didn't offer."

"To be macho? Believe me, I
never
will." She grinned back and leaned closer.

His eyes changed from teasing to intense. Penetrating. Hot. He took her hand with his, and rubbed his thumb in a circle on her palm a few times before he asked in a low voice, "So what time does this party get out, again?"

"Oh, no. You are having a bad time," she said, and her green-honey-brown eyes looked up at him apologetically.

"No, no, it's not that. It's just... you. You're standing there driving me crazy in that dress." His eyes moved down her body, and he shook his head as if amazed. Lonnie knew he must be exaggerating, but still... a few more endorphins started swimming in her brain.

"You like it?" she asked innocently, and folded her hand over his. Of course, his hand was strong and warm and wonderful. Before he could answer, Beauregard Twit shuffled over and interrupted them.

"Lexie, glad you could make it," Twit began hurriedly, and Lonnie almost felt appreciated. "I may need someone to make sure water glasses get refilled." She avoided glancing up at Dominick because she knew if she did, they'd probably both crack up. "Also—think
carefully,"
Twit said. "Did any confidential faxes come before you left the office today?"

She shook her head. "No. Sorry, Beauregard. Still nothing." Jeez, she knew Twit was waiting for a fax, but this bordered on obsession! Couldn't he just call the sender and remind him to fax it as soon as possible? What was so pressing, and so confidential, to make Twit this anxious?

"Beauregard, this is Dom—" she began, but he'd already strutted away like a fast-forwarded peacock.

"So... that was your boss?" Dominick asked, nodding slowly.

"Uh-huh."

"Friendly guy."

"He'd be lost without me, can't you tell?" she drawled sarcastically.

He laughed. "So would I, Lexie. So would I."

Lonnie laughed into his shoulder, which was partly an excuse to lean into him. As she turned her head, she noticed Delia swaying to the seasonal music in the far corner of the room. She was fairly easy to spot in her white, crushed velveteen mini-dress. She was talking to Lunther, and,
Jesus,
she was leaning in close. In fact, from where Lonnie stood, she could see Delia's arm draped over one of Lunther's shoulders, her body half pressed against his side and her mouth dangerously close to his ear. Lonnie pulled back so she could get a better view; she honestly couldn't believe how obviously Delia was coming on to Lunther. And at the company party!

Just then Lunther turned his head and looked directly at Lonnie.
Shoot!
She was caught gawking with abandon at him and Delia. Before Lonnie could break her eye contact with Lunther, she noticed something in his expression. Something contemplative... or agitated, she couldn't tell which. He looked as if seeing Lonnie had made him remember something.

Abruptly, he disentangled himself from Delia and started making his way over....
What?
He was walking straight toward them with an intense look on his face. What on earth could he want with
her
? At work, they barely exchanged two words weekly.

"See that man coming toward us?" she muttered, turning back to Dominick. He angled his head to the side. "Don't look."

"No, then I don't see him."

"It's Twit's partner." Only Lunther didn't approach them, after all. Not right away. Lonnie turned her head to see that he'd been intercepted by Macey, and they were having what appeared to be a rather heated conversation. Unfortunately, she couldn't hear what they were saying.

It was only a matter of seconds before Macey stalked off. Lonnie reflexively whipped her head around to follow Macey's trail out of the ballroom. What was she upset about?
What did that creep say to her?
Then Lonnie glanced at Lunther, who was frozen in place, paused—as if considering whether or not he should approach her.

Her luck ran out, and he moved forward again.

"Hello there, Lonnie," he said.

"Hi," she replied brightly. She was surprised that he knew her first name since Twit was constantly changing it. "Oh, this is my friend, Dominick."

Dominick shook his hand. "Hi. How're you doing?"

"Hi. Well," Lunther said, hitching up his pants a little, "I trust you're having a good time tonight."

She nodded. "Yeah, a great time. What about you?" When in doubt, strain the limits of small talk.