Avoiding Mr. Right (10 page)

Andy glances behind me with longing. A look over my shoulder reveals he’s staring
at the piano. Interesting. I wonder what is going on. I cock an eyebrow at him, waiting
for him to answer.

“I’m Ace. It’s a nickname I picked up while playing.”

“Playing what?”

He gestures with his chin to the glossy black instrument sitting under a spotlight.
“I played the piano professionally before I came to work at the advertising agency.”

A tingle of shock races through me. “Get out. You’re teasing me.”

“No really, I did. I told you I didn’t dream of corporate life forever.”

“Well, yeah, you did, but I assumed you meant you’d like your own accounting firm
one day or something.”

He shakes his head, a small melancholy smile on his face. “You know what they say
about assuming.”

“Come on! How could I have ever guessed you were a musician? Why did you stop playing?”

Andy settles back in his chair, looking like he’s getting comfortable to tell a tale.
A waiter comes over with a big smile and an open bottle of wine.

“Ace! Gino told me you were here. Good to see you.” He pours us two glasses of red
and then places the bottle on the table. “Michael said you were on the schedule for
this weekend. It’s a treat to see you here during the week, my friend—especially since
it’s been so long!” At my look of askance at the wine he says, “Forgive my presumption.
This is Ace’s favorite and I grabbed a bottle when I heard he was here. Do you mind?
It’s a house red, good body.”

I reach for the wine, eager to hear more from Andy when the waiter leaves. “Thank
you, sir. I’m sure it will be terrific.”

The dark haired gentleman smiles my direction. “She’s a cute one, Ace.” He bobs his
head at Andy. “Be sure to keep her a little while.”

Andy’s eyes heat with desire. “I’ll do my best to keep her happy, Glenn, trust me.”

Glenn nods his approval and leaves to attend other diners.

“Well?” I prompt. “Going to keep me hanging?”

Andy takes a sip of his wine, staring into the glass, a hint of sadness in his eyes.
“No, that wasn’t my intention. It’s a difficult topic and I’d hoped we’d have a light
evening.”

“Difficult, huh?” I smile to show I’m teasing. “Did you knock up a waitress?” Andy
grins and it encourages me to keep going. “Cause a scene over an affair with a married
woman?” He chokes at that one and puts his glass down. “Oh, I know—burn down the kitchen
when you had a threesome with the waitress and the midget washing dishes?”

Laughter erupts and the sad look I saw in his eyes leaves. “You really think I’m the
type to have an affair with a married woman?”

I shrug a shoulder and reach for my own glass. “Dunno. You might not have known she
was married… would explain how you know so much…,” I fidget in my seat, uncomfortable
with how to phrase his sexual expertise, “stuff.”

His eyes shine with barely contained mirth. “Are you trying to find out why I stopped
playing piano or why I’m such a creative lover?”

My cheeks burn at his bold question. “Can’t blame me for being curious, right? I mean,
how does an accountant learn all the things you’ve tried on me?” I take a drink and
place my wine back on the table.

“Well…” His voice trails off and he leans in closer. “We’ve already established I’m
not just an accountant. Maybe I learned things in my days working night clubs.”

“Maybe…” I pick up my menu, excited to be here, eager to draw out our easy speech
as long as I can. I hadn’t expected to feel this relaxed with Andy, or this intrigued
to learn more about him. He’s like an enigma, wrapped in a puzzle, masquerading as
a simple man. All this time I worked side by side with someone I dismissed as boring
due to his job. Really shows how superficial and petty I’d become.

Why this man would go to so much trouble when I’ve been nothing but a difficult bitch
is beyond me. Does he expect me to become his sex slave or something? The thought
brings on a mental squirm, indicating I’m not entirely adverse to the idea—especially
if I’d get to feel like I did today after he completely controlled my pleasure in
the restroom.

Andy’s eagle eye gaze narrows on me. “What are you thinking about, Carla?”

“Why me?” I blurt out before I can stop myself. “Why did you pursue me when all I’ve
ever been is self-centered and bossy to you?”

Andy’s face softens and he reaches for my hand, forcing me to put down my menu. “You’re
too hard on yourself. You’ve been more to me than that, and more to others around
you, too.”

I look away, not sure I’m comfortable with his observations, especially when it seems
like he’s not really answering my question. “Uh-huh.”

He tugs my hand, bringing my attention back to our joined fingers. “When your friend
called you last month, panicking about her phone? You talked her off the edge, gave
her guidance. I heard you.” I raise an eyebrow at him—he’s grasping at straws. “Don’t
look at me like I’m full of shit. I’m not. That’s just one thing. How about when the
office manager, Judy, was out sick for a few weeks over the winter? You took her dinner
several times and even babysat her kids when she went to the doctor.”

My eyes widen. “How did you know that?”

“I pay attention Carla. I’ve watched you—not in a creepy stalker kind of way, just
as a man interested in finding a good woman. I’ve seen you rush out to yoga class
and still stop to give the homeless guy on the corner money for soup. Three weeks
ago, I saw the flyer for
Dress for Success
that you slipped into every woman’s cubicle before they arrived at work.” He pulls
my fingers to his mouth, placing a kiss on their tips. “You may act like an unfeeling,
prickly shrew around the men you invite into your life, but that’s not who you really
are inside.”

Tears fill my eyes and I jerk my hand to pull it away. He holds fast, staring at me
like he’s looking into my soul, seeing me like no man ever has.

“You have a good heart, Carla. And that’s what I want in my life.” He smiles to lessen
the intensity of the moment. “And besides, anyone else wouldn’t have challenged me
mentally.”

“Really?” I say, a touch of smarm in my voice. “‘Cause you’re such a genius you haven’t
found an equal?”

He gazes at me with a superior air of serenity in his expression. “The best things
in life require hard work. If you gain something easily you don’t value it as much.”

Glenn bustles back to our table, a tray in one hand. “Gino told Beverly you were here,
too. She sent out several appetizers for you to nibble on.” He sets down a long platter
holding at least half a dozen different artfully arranged delicacies.

“It looks scrumptious.” I beam up at the server. “I didn’t see this on the menu.”

Glenn waves a hand, dismissing the generous gesture. “Sometimes she tries new things
and wants to share them with her friends. Please, eat. Ace is like family.”

Andy smiles his thanks and picks up a square of toast with tomatoes and spices on
it as Glenn leaves.

“They seem to love you. When did you stop playing here?” I reach for a seasoned shrimp
on a stick.

He finishes his appetizer before answering, “I didn’t technically stop, just lowered
my appearances to once every other month or so.” He gazes longingly at the grand piano
once more. “I can’t give it up completely.”

Maybe now is a good time to push for more from him. “Why did you cut back so much?”

He eats another appetizer before responding, his expression more relaxed than when
we first mentioned the topic. “I wasn’t earning enough to pay my mother’s medical
bills, so I took a better-paying job I got my degree in.”

I want to ask about his mom, but I stick to a safer topic, hoping he’ll tell me when
he feels like it. “You went to college for accounting?”

Andy forks a shrimp and nods. “My parents wanted to make sure I had an education to
fall back on if music didn’t pay the bills.”

Surprise fills me at the easygoing way he describes his parent’s subtle direction
of his choices in life. “Wow. They sound… supportive. And far-seeing.”

A touch of sadness fills his eyes again, but not for himself, I have a feeling it’s
for me. “That’s what most parents are like. Not all of them are like your dad, taking
off and leaving those he’s responsible for.” His face twists into a bitter mask. “I’m
sorry to say it, Carla. But your father sounded like a coward.”

A part of me rages inside to defend the man, like I did for years with my mother when
she spewed her hateful words. But this time, I settle the conflicting emotions inside
me and nod. How long am I expected to deny the truth? A good man stands by the people
he cares about, he doesn’t leave when the going gets tough.

“Where’s your dad?” I ask. “Why isn’t he helping with your mom’s bills?”

“My dad died a few years ago. Unfortunately, he was ill for a long time and everything
they had was eaten up to pay for his ongoing care. My sister doesn’t make a lot with
her freelance writing, and that’s
with
her degree in journalism. When my mom got cancer two years ago we tried everything.
But there’s only so much Medicare will cover.”

“Medicare? How old is your mom?”

“Seventy-eight. Our folks had us late in life. She was forty-four when we were born
and my dad was fifty-two.” His face takes on a warm glow, as if recalling a fond memory.
“We had a great life growing up. Having retired parents was kind of nice. They made
time for
all
our school functions, had money to spare for long trips—Dad even coached my little
league for a while.”

Warmth washes over me as I realize all that he had… and all that my sister and I missed.
“That sounds nice. You’re very lucky.”

“I know. And watching them—how they felt about each other showing in small ways— helped
me figure out what I wanted in life. Which reminds me,” he pushes back his sweater
sleeve to check the time. “Do you mind if I call my mom before our meal arrives?”

“No. Not at all.” Andy takes out his cell. “Would you like some privacy?”

He shakes his head. “She’s in a coma and is mostly unresponsive.” My heart clutches
at his words, delivered so matter-of-factly. “We said our goodbyes when she was still
aware, but I’d like to think hearing me play might make her more comfortable and feel
loved.”

Shock settles over me when I comprehend exactly how strong this seemingly unpretentious
man is. Would I have the same healthy outlook if it were my mother lying in a coma?
The inner voice I’d like to ignore chimes in with,
Probably not. You have too much anger where she is concerned.

Andy signals for our waiter and we place our dinner orders, under the heavy guidance
of the attentive man’s suggestions. Right before he leaves, Andy says, “I’d like to
play a song, Glenn. If that’s alright?”

Glenn’s face splits into a huge grin. “It’s more than alright, Andy. You go right
ahead.”

Andy nods his thanks and hits the dial button on his phone. “Hi Iris, it’s me. How’s
she doing?” After a slight pause while the person on the other end answers. “Thanks.
Would you mind holding the phone for her?” He rises from the table and holds the phone
out to me while gesturing to the piano. “Would you hold it while I play?”

Our fingers brush when he passes it to me, electricity tingling up my hand. “I’d be
happy to.”

Andy leans down and plants a soft kiss on my lips. Pulling back slightly, he stares
into my eyes. “This one was one of my mom’s favorites, but I chose it for both of
you.”

My heart starts to trip in my chest and I’m speechless, unsure what to say or do in
the face of this man’s confidence and heart-melting attention. As he walks to the
piano I take a deep breath. I think I nodded my understanding to his question, but
my insides are feeling so knotted with anticipation I may have sat there like a lump,
staring.

He settles on the black bench and turns on the microphone sitting on top of the piano.
Holy crap, he’s going to sing, too. The moment the mic clicks on and the speakers
kick in, all heads turn in his direction. I clutch the phone in my hand, eyes locked
on the man sitting in the small spotlight.

“Good evening, everyone. Management has graciously allowed me to play a song for you
tonight.” He looks over toward the doorway we came in and nods. “Your normally scheduled
player for the evening will be on at nine. Is that correct, Gino?”

“That’s right, Ace.” The maitre’d calls out. “Thank you.”

I glance behind me and see a collection of employees gathered near the entrance, some
from the kitchen, too.

Without warm up, Andy launches directly into a song, his fingers dancing across the
keys with no effort. The strains of a familiar tune reach me, as Andy’s eyes lock
onto mine across the distance.

The opening words of
She’s Always a Woman to Me
wrap around me, transporting me into the Billy Joel song with the spell he’s weaving.

The beauty of his voice, pitched perfectly, creates the sensation like the entire
restaurant has disappeared and it’s only he and I in this moment. As he hums between
stanzas his gaze drifts from me to the keys and back again, closing the distance between
us with an almost magical air.

Words to a song I know by heart take on new meaning as I listen to every phrase, and
apply them to myself. He’s singing about an independent woman, like me, who makes
no excuses for her behavior and often appears harsher than intended.

The last line of the chorus about a woman changing her mind stabs at me, jarring me
with its truth.

I can change my mind about how I look at men and relationships without giving in.
I can still be me and allow someone into my life. He’s so gorgeous, sitting there,
singing his heart out. Tears moisten my eyes and blur my vision as the poignancy of
the moment breaks through the hardened shell I’ve erected around my feelings. I can’t
believe this man I’ve ignored for months is the sweetest, kindest soul I’ve ever met.
How does he know me better than I know myself?