Plum Girl (Romance) (38 page)

"New shirt, D?"

"No."

"New tie?"

"Nope."

"Something's different."

You annoying the shit out of me sure isn't it.
Dominick finished stirring sugar into his coffee and tried to escape the kitchen without making any more small talk. Or dodging small talk, if one wanted to be technical. Harold followed. But then again, his cubicle was adjacent to Dominick's office, so neither had much choice in the matter.

"Hi, Dominick."

There was no mistaking the feminine—and refreshingly unHarold—lilt in the voice. "Hey, Mo. How're you doing?" He half grinned at her, and continued into his office. When he heard Harold say hello, and the drop in enthusiasm in Mo's voice, Dominick almost chuckled.
Almost.
But at the moment he was too damn irritable to crack more than half a smile.

"Dominick, are you going to happy hour tonight?" Looking up from his monitor, he saw Mo standing in the doorway, smiling openly, invitingly.

"Ah, no, I don't think so." What would be the point? Happy hour just reminded him of Lonnie, and he had too much work to do anyway. Not just for GraphNet, either; he was scouting out locations for his software business.

He just had to tell himself to forget Lonnie—a girl who was certifiably
psychotic
if she was dumping him just because they'd had one stupid fight. Well, there was no "if" about it; she'd never returned his call, sending a clear signal that she wanted nothing to do with him anymore. Fine. Obviously he couldn't
make
her call him back. He couldn't make her see how great they were together. It was that unnamable something between two people—that inexplicable pull. They shared great laughs, great talks, great sex. Make that very hot sex. The kind that had nothing to do with experience or kinkiness or gymnastic ability, and everything to do with chemistry and trust and love.

Women.
Fine, that was it. As far as he was concerned, the fairer sex mess had messed with his head enough for a while. Fairer,
my ass.

"Why not? You've gotta come," Mo encouraged sweetly—cooingly. Not that he minded. It was nice to have a girl actually
appreciate
him. Unlike old What's-Her-Name...

Lonnie Gwendolyn Kelley.

"Nah, I don't think so," he said.

"I might go, M," Harold said, suddenly appearing next to Mo. "If we can get the new links finished in time." She flashed him a brief look and said, "Oh, that's nice," with what sounded a little like forced sweetness.

"D, I'm telling you, there's something different about you today," Harold said.

"He didn't shave," Mo offered immediately.

Dominick ran a hand over his jaw, just realizing himself that he hadn't shaved. Come to think of it, had he combed his hair before he left? In a split-second of alarm, he grabbed on his pant legs to check his socks. Both navy blue. Okay, he wasn't completely going to hell yet.

"Well, have a drink for me," he said, and turned back to his monitor, knowing it was an idiotic thing to say, but at the moment he couldn't worry about the staleness of his repartee. He didn't want to talk about happy hour; he just wanted to be left alone.

"D, the CD-ROM I sent to E-Bizz accidentally got returned. Do you want—"

"I'll deal with it later," he replied in a clipped tone.

"But shouldn't we—"

"Later."

"Okay, D. I just—"

"I'll take care of it," Dominick growled.

"All right, no problem," Harold said. "By the way, was that girl I saw in your office last week your girlfriend?"

"Harold, just get the hell out of here!"

His so-called protégé scurried away—terrified of his so-called mentor—and Dominick experienced a fleeting pang of guilt. Then he checked his voice mail, his e-mail, his regular mail. Nothing. The word summed up everything all too well.

* * *

The next morning marked the first Saturday of Lonnie's "Weekend Exercise Regimen," which she'd outlined the night before, after an even-Medusa-is-hotter-than-me tantrum.

It also marked the last.

She returned from her "run" having walked two-thirds of it, and then finding herself helplessly drawn to Au Bon Pain on the way home. She opened the front door, carrying an Asiago bagel and slurping a diet Coke, having cheated on the first day of her new exercise plan and not overly caring. Her decent mood had everything to do with her new job. Emma had called the day before and offered her a two-year position, just as Macey had said she would. Lonnie told Emma she'd get back to her on Monday, but inside, she knew her answer already. She was heading to Maine in the fall to begin her future.

She walked into the apartment, and right away spotted Peach dabbing some sea-green paint onto the far left corner of
BosYork.

"Hey."

"Hey! Thank God you're home!" Peach exclaimed. Then she qualified, "I mean, I just didn't know where you'd gone."

"You were asleep when I left. I went for a run. Well, sort of."

"You never run."

"I said sort of." Lonnie chucked her keys God knows where, and set her breakfast on the coffee table. "Do we have any paper towels? Wait, what's that smell? What, you're cooking?" She followed the scent of baking chocolate that came from their minialcove-of-a-kitchen. "What's this?"

"Yeah, I'm helping Cheryl," Peach said, and followed Lonnie over toward the oven. "Three dozen Godiva fudge brownies. She needs them for a high tea she's catering today."

"High tea?"

"I know. I know. Iris's friends may be pretentious, but hey, they provide a lot of good catering opportunities."

"That's nice," Lonnie said absently, and went back to the sofa.

She glanced up at her sister, who appeared to be painting, but... something was off. Peach seemed fidgety. She kept looking over her shoulder, and she was moving her paintbrush against the wall with tiny, artificial strokes.
What's she up to?

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

"I wonder who that is," Lonnie said, and rose from the sofa with a hunk of bagel sticking out of her mouth.

"Wait!" Peach blurted. Lonnie turned, looked at her questioningly, and she said, "Take that bagel out of your mouth. Here, let me get another paper towel and you can wipe yourself off—"

"What are you talking about?" Lonnie interrupted, ripping the bagel out and swallowing the portion that was already in her mouth. "Why are you being so weird today?"

"Weird? No reason," she said too innocently, and tried an accompanying too-innocent shrug. "I mean, I'm not." There was another light knock on the door, and Lonnie moved to answer it. She looked through the peephole first, and her stomach dropped.

Dominick!

After a couple of deep breaths, she opened the door, with knots in every major organ and a profound hope that she didn't have Asiago breath. "Dominick," she said, deliberately neutral. "Hi."

He looked genuinely surprised to see her.
What the hell?
What did he expect? Obviously he'd come to see her, to talk to her, to make amends, to reconnect—

"Is Peach here?" he asked.

"What?"

He swallowed uncomfortably—
good, serves him right!
—and repeated his question. "Is Peach here? She asked if I'd stop by and take a look at her laptop." He barely even made eye contact while he spoke.
The nerve!
Here he'd shown up at
her
apartment after not calling her for a week, looking gorgeously rumpled and unshaven, and then asked to see her sister! Boy, did she know how to pick them, or what? Fine, then. All men were awful, wretched beasts, and no, damn it, she was not a sexist.

"Excuse me?" She tried to keep the woman-scorned wrath out of her voice, but failed. "You're here to see Peach?"

"Hi, Dominick!" Peach said, hurrying over to the door. "Come in."

"What's going on?" Lonnie planted her hands on her hips and waited for an explanation from one of them.

Dominick avoided her eyes again—appearing terribly bored by her mere existence—and replied, "I told you. Peach asked me to fix her laptop." His face was hard and impervious, and his normally hot-lava eyes were now cold black stones. From what she could tell, that is, since he was barely sparing her a glance.

"Its
my
laptop," she corrected angrily.

"Right this way, Dominick," Peach said, pulling him by the sleeve into their apartment, and Lonnie's blood boiled.

"Peach!"

"Lon, I told you, the D drive isn't working. You know we can't afford to get it fixed ourselves, and Dominick will probably figure out the problem right away."

"You know what?" he interrupted. "Why don't we just forget it? I've got other ways to spend my time." He started toward the door, shaking his head angrily.

"Dominick, wait! You said you'd help me!" Peach declared in an overly dramatic, woe-is-me appeal. Her sister, the con artist.

"You said she wouldn't be here," he stated bluntly, still not looking at Lonnie.

He'd said
she
as if she was a particularly revolting mutant alien life form. A
deaf
mutant alien life form. "Could you not talk about me like I'm not even here?" she asked in a huff.

"Whatever. Do you want your damn computer fixed or not?"

"Peach," Lonnie said, ignoring Dominick and giving him a taste of his own medicine, "I told you I'd fix it."

"Lon, you know less than nothing about computers. No offense."

"But—"

"You know it's true," Peach went on. "You thought a zip disk was a floppy that's blank."

Dominick snorted, and Lonnie shot him an icy glare.

"Lon, it's true," Peach said.

"Gimme a break—"

"Look, you want me to stay or go? Just tell me now," Dominick demanded, looking pissed and unyielding and gorgeous and perfect. And she loved him more than ever.
Damn him.
He hadn't called or e-mailed, he'd blown off their whole relationship over some stupid fight, and now he'd shown up at her apartment, giving her obnoxious attitude, and she still wanted him. She wanted to throw her arms around him and never let go. She wanted... oh, Lord, so many things. Him. Them. Forever.

"Fine. Fix it. But I'm going out—" The phone rang, interrupting her, and Lonnie grabbed the receiver. "Hello?"

"Hi, it's Cheryl. Is Peach there?"

"Oh, sure, hang on," Lonnie said, and turned to give the phone to Peach... who was looking suspiciously expectant.

"Hi," Peach said, clearly knowing exactly who it was already. She stole a few glances at Lonnie and Dominick, while she went on melodramatically. "Oh,
really
? Well, that certainly
does
sound like an emergency! My, yes, certainly I'll help you out. After all, what other choice do I have?" The last part came out theatrical enough to make Lonnie worry.
What now?

"Okay, I'll be there right away!" She hung up the phone and announced, "Well, Cheryl needs me to help her with something right away." She grabbed her red-gold-and-black patchwork jacket out of the closet. "Oh, no!" She threw her hand to her forehead in a faux I-just-thought-of-something gesture. "I can't just leave the brownies unattended! They're still cooking. Lon, will you stay and keep an eye on them till I get back?" While Lonnie grappled for words, Peach took advantage of the silence. "Thanks a lot! Well, I'll see you guys in a little while—"

"Freeze!" Lonnie commanded.

"Shit," Dominick said, patting his coat pockets. "I just realized, I left my backup disk in my car. I'll be right back." After he was gone, Peach tried to make her own escape, but Lonnie stopped her.

"You're not going anywhere. I want to speak with you right now."

"Gee, wish I had the time—"

"Now."

Glancing to make sure Dominick was nowhere in sight, Lonnie shut the front door most of the way, and said, "I can't believe you!"

"What—"

"First you call Dominick behind my back—"

"The computer—"

"Stuff it."

"I didn't even think you'd be home!" Peach protested innocently.

"Nice try. You were all panicky that I
wasn't
home. If this isn't the most obvious setup in the whole world—"

"Like you're so original. 'If he really liked me, he'd call.' That's the oldest refrain in the universe."

"Yeah... well... tried but true."

"Oh, I was afraid there wouldn't be a trite platitude we could use to help us illuminate things."

"I'm furious with you right now," Lonnie whispered, in case Dominick was on his way up the stairs.

"That's just what you think now," Peach declared, and started buttoning her jacket. "And fine; if it makes you feel better, you're right. This is a setup. So, big deal. You're my sister, and you're fucking up. Whose job is it, if not mine, to clean up your messes?"

"You're a menace."

"Thanks," Peach said, pleased with herself.

"What do you not understand about
little sister?
I'm supposed to butt into
your
life. And... I don't know... call you 'squirt,' not take any crap..."

Peach scoffed, "Let's not waste our time with fantasies." She finished the last button, sighed as if terribly put out by Lonnie's denseness, and said, "Dominick's a winner. Just look at the latest evidence. What guy agrees to fix the laptop of a girl who hasn't called him in a week?"

"So this is all to save my love life?" Lonnie asked.

Peach replied, "Well, I can't deny that there's a slightly selfish motivation, too. Honestly? You're becoming a nightmare to live with. No offense."

"What are you talking about?"

"You snapped at me three times yesterday. And last night I heard you singing 'Every Rose Has Its Thorn' in the shower. Come on, how much am I expected to put up with?"

Lonnie grinned in spite of herself, in spite of Peach, in spite of the sullen man getting his backup disk, in spite of everything. "Dominick's probably left anyway. He probably got in his car and drove away."

"Right. Just like he probably came over so he could fix your laptop."