Real Women Don't Wear Size 2 (13 page)

Ethan remained silent. The fiasco last year with the woman Jeff called “Red” had dampened his spirits in regard to the trip, and the potential for ruining his relationship with Clarise had emphasized his decision to stay home. But Jeff was right; corporate bonding typically required someone “corporate” along for the excursion.

“Well, tell me this,” Jeff continued, not waiting for Ethan to answer. “Are you willing to take a much-needed vacation while I prove to our father that I can whip his ass, business-style?”

Good solid reasoning told Ethan he shouldn’t head south to see his friend get in touch with her sexy side, but he wasn’t so certain he felt like listening to reason. “If Dad agrees to your little wager, and if the acquisition goes smoothly this morning, then yeah, I’ll leave.” Ethan didn’t say where he’d go. The friend in him wanted Clarise to set her dynamism free, because he wanted her to be happy. The man in him, however, wanted her to let go for another reason entirely. A sexy woman was a terrible thing to waste. And the man in him also couldn’t quite grasp the image of that particular sexy woman . . . with someone else.

“I’ll talk to Dad as soon as they get back. He’ll bite; he won’t be able to pass up the chance to beat me at his game. Then you wrap up the deal, and I’ll be there in the afternoon to begin a Eubanks versus Eubanks showdown. I’m already packed, you know.” He laughed. “And then you can fly to—wherever—for a much-needed vacation.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Ethan said. “I’ll see you this afternoon, if you talk Dad into this crazy scheme.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” Jeff said. “I’ll be in Birmingham in a few hours, count on it.” He disconnected.

Ethan was as sure that Preston Eubanks wouldn’t back down from the challenge as he was that he knew where he’d be heading this afternoon. He replayed the scene from last night. When Clarise opened the door, she’d looked flustered.
Different.
Her hair wasn’t up in its traditional bun. Thank God. Even when she wore the sexy red number at the Christmas party, she’d worn her hair up; therefore, he’d had no clue of its length, of the way it shimmered. Until last night, when it fell in long, chocolate waves around her shoulders. It wasn’t a bad look.

Her face had been different too. Flushed, he realized, almost as if she were embarrassed by his presence. Would she even be able to open up and let herself go with Ethan? Or was their friendship a barrier too powerful for her to set her inhibitions free? Ethan knew it wasn’t a smart move to test their relationship, but he also knew he wouldn’t be able to see her again without knowing whether this thing was one-sided, or whether Clarise might, in fact, be the woman he’d been looking for all along. True, he had a lousy track record with commitment, but what if, as she’d insinuated during their coffee chats, he simply hadn’t met the right one. What would it be like to be a woman’s friend first, and lover second? And did she even think of him that way? By tonight, he decided with a smile, he’d find out.

Chapter 8

B
abette rolled her window down to experience the full effect of her arrival at the Port Canaveral docks, while her mother and Aunt Madge talked about her as though she weren’t a twenty-eight-year-old adult. Moreover, like she wasn’t in the backseat listening.

“Janie, I can’t fathom why the child doesn’t gain weight,” Aunt Madge chirped, continuing her typical why-is-Babette-so-different montage, which began this morning, when she’d first greeted Babette with an extremely blunt
“How ya doing, child, and where are your boobs?”

Babette glanced downward. Most females would require a bra with the thin lace-trimmed tank, but not Babette. So what if her nipples protruded from beneath the pale pink satin? She wanted the points to stick out—without the nipples, there was no shape happening at all.

“She has a high metabolism,” her mother explained, looking in the rearview mirror and winking at Babette. “Like me.”

“Thanks,” Babette said, though in truth, she’d much rather have inherited the generous curves that came from the Robinson side of the family instead of the Paris Hiltonesque thinness that left all of her clothes hanging on her tall, lanky frame. Eventually, she’d correct that problem, whenever she got the funds together to cover a boob job. Unfortunately, her part-time positions throughout her extensive college career hadn’t done much more than pay the mandatory bills, and while she could’ve used her graduation money to get the “job” done, she’d chosen to cruise the western Caribbean with her new toy instead. And speaking of her new toy . . . she turned and carefully unzipped its padded leather case, then withdrew the beauty.

“Well, if you ask me,” Madge continued, “the girl should take advantage of all that free food on the cruise. You hear me, Babette?”

How could I not?
Babette thought, lifting the expensive camera reverently toward the window and focusing on the large cruise ship that would provide her with a week filled with sunshine and relaxation—and plenty of opportunity for picturesque photographs. She clicked the first photo, then smiled at the feeling of excitement that pulsed through her fingertip. “Yes, Aunt Madge, I hear you,” she said. “And the two of you really didn’t have to drive me all the way down here. I could have left my car at the docks.”

“Nonsense,” Janie Robinson said, turning the wheel to enter the loading area. “There’s no need in you paying those parking fees when we live just around the corner.”

“Fort Lauderdale isn’t just around the corner,” Babette declared. In fact, they left her parents’ home approximately three hours ago, three excruciatingly long hours, thanks to Aunt Madge’s endless chattering.

She aimed the camera toward a dark-skinned man, his hand shielding his eyes as he took in the grandeur of the enormous ship. Babette liked the shadow covering the top portion of his face, as well as the way his mouth seemed more intense because of the contrast where the shadow stopped. She snapped the photo, but was dismayed that one of her untamable blond curls had chosen that precise moment to whip in front of the lens and distort the image. Thank goodness she’d brought a surplus of colored scrunchies to use on the trip. This would definitely be a predominantly ponytail week if she planned to get decent photos, and she did. More than decent—she wanted breathtaking.

“Well, not around the corner, but you know what I mean,” her mother continued.

“Yes, I do,” Babette said, trying to control the urge to curse at the ruined photo opportunity. That would have been a good shot for her eventual portfolio, or she thought it would. She really needed a photography degree. Anyway, the chance for that image was gone, since the man had started up the ramp to board the boat.

Babette smiled inwardly. Wasn’t that going to be the fun part about photography? Having to grab hold of the moment and capture it quickly, before it evaporated? And once she perfected the technique, via a photography degree, of course, wouldn’t that be an amazing feeling? To know you could decide which moments to capture, to ensure they last a lifetime via a photograph? Oh yeah, she should’ve considered photography years ago. This was finally going to give her everything she ever wanted . . . total control.

“So what are you planning to do on the boat?” Madge asked.

Babette opened her mouth to answer, but her mother beat her to the punch.

“She’s going to take five days to relax and have a good time before she starts working. Right, dear?”

Babette’s smile was forced, and she prayed her mother didn’t notice. “Yes, that’s right.”

“You’re actually going to work this time?” Madge asked, twisting in the seat and lifting her penciled brows so high they disappeared beneath her platinum bangs. “Really?”

The urge to growl caused Babette to clear her throat, but she kept the defensive response in check. Now was so not the time to start an argument with Aunt Madge. She was nearly to the boat. If she could only last a little longer without blowing up, maybe—just maybe—Madge could keep from comparing her to Clarise. “The family” always saw Babette’s sister as capable of anything, worthy of accomplishing every goal she pursued. Why couldn’t they see Babette in the same light? Then again, she was twenty-eight years old and had never worked day one of a full-time job, and her part-time record was eight weeks. Okay, seven weeks and two days, but who was counting?

“No more eternal college student?” Madge asked.

Babette laughed and silently wondered if it sounded sincere. “I graduated, remember?”

“Yes, I do remember—all three times,” Madge said. “And I won’t totally complain, since I bought a new dress for each occasion. What were those degrees, again? Math was the first one, wasn’t it?”

“Accounting,” Babette corrected, trying not to wince as they started back into Madge’s second-favorite Babette topic, lack of career ambition.

“Right. Accounting,” Madge said, nodding . . . and frowning.

“Madge,” Janie warned.

“I’m simply trying to keep it all straight,” Madge defended. “Okay, so we have Accounting. Then what was next?”

“Business Administration,” Janie answered. She gave Babette another motherly glance via the mirror. “Isn’t that right, dear?”

“Yes,” Babette said, her hands holding the camera in her lap, primarily to keep them busy so she wouldn’t consider placing both of them over Madge’s mouth. Tightly. Dare she tell them?

“Then what was this last one?” Madge asked. “The one in December? Computer Science, wasn’t it?”

“Computer Information Systems,” Babette corrected. “It’s the business side of Computer Science.”

“She has three job offers already, Madge,” Janie said with pride, as she pulled into one of the covered areas designated for dropping off cruise passengers. “Maybe this trip will give you the time you need to decide which one to take, sweetie,” she added, parking the car.

“Maybe,” Babette said, though she’d in fact already turned down all three. There was no need to tell them that the idea of sitting at a desk all day long keying in computer programs made her want to hurl. She wasn’t sure why she ever started that degree. Well, yeah, she was; the job would’ve paid well, very well, but she wanted more out of life than that. In fact, she wanted to show life, capture it, control it . . . via pictures. Her hand caressed the expensive camera.

“Well, I figured you were trying to get a degree in every letter,” Madge said, chuckling loudly, and sounding very roosterish, in Babette’s opinion. “You’ve already got A, B and C covered. Accounting, Business Administration and Computer Science.” She laughed more.

Babette didn’t. “It’s Computer Information Systems.”

“Right,” Madge said, climbing out of the car. Her dress, a very loud conglomeration of oversized yellow flowers and red tropical birds on blinding turquoise, whipped around her large legs in the seaside breeze. She quickly hauled Babette’s bags from the trunk and chatted with the family in the next parking space. “Where are you guys from?” she asked, while Janie pulled Babette to the other side of their car.

“Honey, don’t let her bother you. You’re taking your time to find your way in life, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Thanks,” Babette said, and meant it. Her mother and Clarise still believed in her, unlike the majority of the family. She shot a death stare at Aunt Madge, but the woman was too busy nosing around in the other family’s business to care.

A car pulled into the space next to Babette and Janie, and a curvy woman climbed out. She wore a hot pink sundress accented with flaming orange trim. Her bejeweled sandals matched exactly, as did her orange straw purse with a large pink flower. She looked at Babette and smiled happily. Babette returned the gesture. She couldn’t help it, even with her current dismay with Aunt Madge. The shapely woman made Babette feel good . . . and reminded her of Clarise. Why couldn’t Clarise try wearing an outfit like that every now and then? Why didn’t Clarise smile happily every now and then? And why didn’t Babette totally despise her sister, when everyone else totally loved her? Because, Babette silently reasoned, she loved Clarise and wanted her happy. Sure, she was jealous of her sister’s ease in getting along with . . . other humans. Babette bit back her laughter. But the truth of the matter was that Babette didn’t like smiling and acting as though everything was hunky-dory when it wasn’t. If she was unhappy, she wanted the world to know it and fix it, so there. And Clarise had even mentioned she wished that she had as much “gumption,” their wild grandmother’s term for spunk, as Babette. Well, Babette might not have been blessed with Granny Gert’s curvaceous frame, but she had gumption aplenty.

“Now, I know you’re a grown woman and all, but I’m still a little apprehensive about you going on this cruise by yourself,” her mother continued.

“It’s what I wanted,” Babette said truthfully. Sun, wind, a big ship . . . and lots of opportunities for great photos.

“I know, but I worry about both of you—you heading off on a cruise by yourself and your sister heading to Tampa for Gasparilla. I want you both to be careful.”

“I’ll be careful. It isn’t the first time I’ve traveled on my own,” Babette reminded. She’d been taking her “sanity trips,” as she called them, ever since she graduated from high school. “And Clarise will be fine too. I talked to her last night. I’ve done the Gasparilla thing, remember? So I told her what to expect and what to watch out for.”

Janie Robinson swallowed. “She’s so trusting, though.”

“She’ll be fine, Mom,” Babette reassured.

Janie nodded, but her throat pulsed with another hard swallow, and Babette suspected she was fighting a major bout of motherly tears.

“I mean it, now, don’t worry,” Babette continued. She hated to see her mother cry. Hell, she hated to see anyone cry, though she’d never admit it. “I’ll have a great time on the boat, and Clarise will do fine at Gasparilla.” Babette had verified that several of the sweethearts from Eubanks Elegant Apparel would be along to take care of her sister. Jesilyn and Rachel would never let anything happen to Clarise. As a matter of fact, there was only one person that Babette had been concerned about, and thankfully, Clarise had verified that he wouldn’t be making the trip, which was a good thing. A very good thing.