Love Online (Truly Yours Digital Editions) (2 page)

❧

Jessica tapped her foot in time with her growing agitation. A “late bloomer,” indeed! All six-foot-one of Tom couldn’t walk into Flavors anymore without at least one of the young waitresses swooning over or inquiring about him. Though she harbored the secret dread of losing the security of their friendship, at least she kept her angst to herself. They both knew the day would come when they’d break their teenage vow of “best friends forever.” A spouse would take precedence in their lives. The thought made her hyperventilate, so she forced it away. Jess scanned the questionnaire. “You might want to try this yourself.”

“No, thanks.” Tom punched the
ON
button on the CD. He immediately started humming—his habit when pushed to his limits.

Jess took in a deep breath. “Tom, I know you’re looking out for me, but—”

“And I know”—he shot her a glance, his dark eyes blazing—“nobody can stop you when you’ve got your heart set on something.” He raked a hand through his light-brown hair, now gold-flecked from the sun, then pushed the
OFF
button on the CD player. “You’re liable to run into Jack the Ripper on one of those Internet—”

Jess burst into laughter. A scowl crossed Tom’s handsome face. She covered her mouth with her hand. “Sorry.” A muscle in his clamped jaw flicked, tamping down any residual humor.

“I can only imagine the idiotic questions.” Tom hit the turn signal, shaking his head. “Really profound stuff like ‘What’s your favorite color?’ ”

Jess bit back a grin. She scanned the page, skipping the idiotic stuff. “Actually most of the questions are much deeper than that.” She pushed her glasses up to the bridge of her nose. “How about this one? ‘Are you willing to relocate?’ ”

Tom slowed the truck and pulled into a spot. “We’re here.”

Jess glanced up at Queens’ Bridal Emporium, then returned her gaze to the questionnaire. “See—this is why I need your help. Am I willing to relocate?”

With a snort, Tom leaned hard against the seat and folded his arms. “I have no idea, Jess. I wouldn’t think so, but then I never thought you’d resort to husband hunting on the Internet.” His serious gaze met hers, sending a shudder of embarrassment up her spine.

Jessica tilted her chin. “I guess we should go in.”

“I’d rather stay in the car.” Tom reclined the seat back.

Biting the inside of her lip, Jess glared at him. “You always come in with me.” Tom didn’t budge. Sixteen years of friendship, and suddenly she didn’t know the man beside her. “Fine, then.” She tossed the questionnaire aside, grabbed her purse, and unclipped the seat belt. She flicked another glance his way. Tom stared out the side window. Regret washed through her, landing in the pit of her stomach. She had the sense she’d crossed an invisible boundary that threatened their friendship and changed things forever.

Jess flipped back the door handle. “I shouldn’t be too long.” She stepped out of the truck. She could stop the train wreck now. Tell Tom the Internet dating brainchild had been borne of her desperation to find a Christian husband. Tell him her destiny would be better left to God’s timing after all. But something deep inside told her it was too late to backpedal.

Tom tucked his hands behind his head and gave her a sideways glance. “You’re going to be late for your fitting, Jess.”

She hopped back into the truck and slammed the door. “I’m not in the mood anymore.”

The soft buzz of the electric seat could’ve been a jackhammer in her ears. Sitting in an upright position, Tom turned the key in the ignition. No negotiating. No talking sense into her.
Where’s the Tom I know?
He shifted into drive, and either the truck, or her heart, lurched.

Jess swallowed hard. Her eyes burned. She straightened her shoulders and stared out her side window. No way would she succumb to tears. She’d done nothing wrong. Tom’s overprotective attitude bordered on paranoia.

Jessica’s stomach sank as Tom headed back toward the bridge. She’d have to make this hike into Queens all over again—most likely without her best friend. She’d grown far too dependent on him, not only for car rides, but also for his strong shoulder. Only Tom got to see the needy side of the chic, savvy, Manhattan chef. Jess cleared her throat and tilted her chin. “I don’t know what you’re so angry about.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m angry.” Tom cupped his hand over the back of his neck, tipping his head side to side. “You certainly don’t need my permission to meet guys online.”

His words jabbed her stomach, compelling her to test them. “So then will you help me with the questionnaire?”

Tom glanced at her and shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

Jess tried to smile, but his bland tone, his sudden change of heart, froze her face. “After all, who, besides God, knows me better than you, Tom?”

“Nobody, Jess.” Tom nodded slowly. “Nobody.”

Two

Tom reread the memo from Elliot Martin and set it aside. He returned his attention to the folder on his desk. His boss’s offer of a transfer to the West Coast would mean a promotion, a salary increase, and lots of perks.

Who was he kidding? The lure wasn’t in the money and the perks. Leaving New York would be the best way to say good-bye to Jessica. He couldn’t rely on willpower alone to keep away from her. Was there really any use in staying?

Closing his eyes, Tom sent up a silent prayer.
Show me if this is what You want, Lord, because right now this move is what I need.

“Knock, knock.”

Tom glanced up to see Frank Dante peering around the door. “Hi, come on in,” he said, pushing back from his desk. He stood and stretched the kinks out of his back. “I could use a break from this Randolph account.”

Frank closed the door and shuffled across the plush green carpet. “Well?” He smiled, arms outstretched. “How was your weekend?”

Tom shrugged. “Not bad.”
Miserable
. He slipped his hands into his pockets. “Long story.” Not true exactly. Jessica’s news had been sudden and crushing. She was moving on. Perhaps it was time for him to do the same. He scanned the transfer agreement again.

“Something tells me”—Frank sank into the chair in front of the desk—“you’re sorry you didn’t take me up on the zoo with Lovely Lana.”

“Nah.” He caught Frank’s leery look. “Well, maybe.” Five years of a trusting friendship didn’t tempt him to confide he’d actually helped Jess fill out the dating questionnaire. He might as well have given her a reference, if not his blessing. But discouragement motivated him to help her make the quickest exit out of his life. “Let’s just say things didn’t work out as I expected.”

Frank flipped his necktie Groucho Marx–style. “Things have not been working out as you expected—for how long?” He shifted lazily in the leather armchair. “Okay, Jessica used to sit in front of you in grade school, but get over it already.”

“High school, junior year,” Tom countered, sounding pitiful in his own ears.

“Whatever.” Frank sighed. “Look—I’m on your side, but what are you waiting for?”

“A miracle.” Or maybe a few more lingering looks from Jessica. Why the looks when she thought she needed a dating service to find the man of her dreams? Tom dropped into his swivel chair and drew in a breath. “You know, sometimes I envy you.”

Raking his fingers through his cropped, black hair, Frank smirked. “I’m the bomb.”

Tom gave a mild snort. “I’ll give you this much—you have a load of female friends, and you never get stuck on any of them. Kudos.”

“Hey, I like being a bachelor.” Frank wriggled his dark brows. “You, on the other hand, want to be married. Nothing wrong with that, except you’ve got a thing for one woman.”

Tom nodded. “Right.” The thing he had for Jessica would have to die a sudden death. He’d nearly forgotten that as he listened to her sing a solo in church Sunday, her face waxing angelic. His heart clenched at the memory.

“Two of the administrative assistants out there”—Frank jerked his thumb toward the door—“would love to go out with you. Why don’t you—”

“Now she’s got it in her head she’ll find a Christian husband on the Internet.” A cold knot tightened in his chest. Since Saturday in Flavors, going over the questionnaire with her between sips of cappuccino, he’d tried to pray it away—force it out of his mind. Speaking the words disheartened him all over again.

“Jessica’s looking for a husband on the Internet?” The shock in Frank’s voice brought him an odd sense of relief. So he wasn’t the only one to think the idea of it insane. “Things are going from bad to worse, Buddy.”

“You’re right.” Bad to worse. Flipping open the file on his desk, Tom shook his head. The few times he did date, he’d done it more as a favor to Frank. Not surprisingly, his colleague attracted women who wanted to double date. Maybe Frank’s slick demeanor elicited a safety-in-numbers response. Tom suppressed a grin at the errant thought.

“Last you told me, Jess was off dating. Career first and all that. When did marriage enter the picture?”

“I guess she’s achieved everything she’s ever wanted career-wise. I’m happy for her. But now,” he said with a shrug, “she says her ‘biological clock is ticking.’ ” Drumming his fingers on the desktop, Tom switched his gaze to the window and stared at the skyscraper across the way. “Strange this should come up now. I had every intention of telling Jess how I felt about her this weekend. God’s timing, I guess.”

“Man, that’s rough.” Frank rose to his feet and crossed his arms. Tom watched him pacing a small section of carpet. His familiar posture meant a bright idea was brewing, probably one he could live without. “Why don’t you join the Christian dating service yourself?” He raised a hand to forestall a response. “
You
actually care if a woman has a good personality.” Frank chuckled. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist.”

Tom grimaced. Leaning back in his chair, he weighed the proposition he’d solidly rejected when Jess presented it to him. “What kind of women could I expect to meet on there?”

Frank cleared his throat. “I think you’ve just insulted Jessica.”

Tom managed a smile. If he were going for the transfer to California, there was no sense starting up a relationship in New York. Though it wouldn’t kill him to interact with some like-minded females. Maybe it would be the elixir he needed to put Jessica out of his mind once and for all.

Frank pushed back his shirt cuff and glanced at his watch. “Whoa! Got to get back to work.” He strode to the door and turned. “I’m going to the gym at six. Want to catch up with me?”

“Yeah, sure, see you later.” The door snapped shut. Tom resumed drumming his fingers. Maybe he’d meet other professional Christians online—women like Jess who had no time to socialize. “Yeah, maybe Jessica’s clone.”

Tom shook his head and picked up his pen. Frank nailed it. Bad to worse.

❧

Juggling three tubs of ice cream, Jess navigated the creaky wooden stairs from the pantry into the kitchen. She dropped the slippery containers onto the counter and heaved a sigh.

“How are you, Chef?”

Jess glanced up to see Juan standing at the opposite end of the long table, eyeing one of his heavenly confectionery creations. If anybody loved his work as much as she did, it had to be the pastry chef. “Hi, there. When did you get in?”

“About ten minutes ago,” Juan said, slathering frosting on the chocolate decadence cake. “It’s six o’clock. You leaving?”

“Nope.” Jess brushed her hands against her white apron. “I’ve got to pull another double till we find a new sous chef. Martha quit on your day off.” She scanned the slip of paper hanging from the peg above the stove, grabbed a frying pan, and set it on the flame.

“You better tell boss-man to get somebody quick. With the busy season coming”—Juan glanced up from his masterpiece—“you work too hard.”

“Yeah, well—” Double shifts weren’t so bad when all you had to go home to was a parakeet and a couple of goldfish. Tom hadn’t phoned in four days. A record. “You know, Juan—men are strange.”

“We’re strange?” He grunted.

“Sorry.” Jess scooped butter into the pan. Juan had enough problems on the home front to know better than to make the offhand remark. “Just thinking out loud.” If Tom was too irritated to phone her and was worried about Jack the Ripper, why the pleasantness when he’d helped her fill out the questionnaire? Why help her at all?

Tossing shrimp into the pan, Jess went to the refrigerator for the provolone. After Tom’s warnings, she hadn’t joined the dating service after all. But if Tom persisted in being unreasonable and stubborn, she wouldn’t tell him she had qualms about signing up.

Dora pushed through the swinging doors in her customary breathless fashion. She slapped a receipt on the peg. “Hey, your friend is out there.”

Jess closed the fridge door and blinked. “Which friend?”

“The hunk.” Dora’s munchkin laugh echoed through the kitchen. “Tom Winters.”

Delight hit the pit of her stomach, working its way to her face in the form of a smile. She’d missed him more than she cared to admit. “Oh, right, Tom.” Her smile faded. He could at least have phoned to let her know he’d be in.

“Ay, caramba!”

Scowling, Jess switched her gaze to Juan. Balancing a cake platter in each hand, he gestured with his chin to the stove. Dora screeched.

Jess pivoted just as the smoke alarm clanged in her ears. “Yikes!” She lurched forward, yanked the pan off the range, and tossed it into the sink. “What’s the matter with me?”

Juan set down the cakes, picked up the broom, and poked its handle at the ceiling alarm. He jammed the stick into the button, restoring the kitchen to silence.

“I’ll tell everybody false alarm.” Dora dashed through the doors before Jess had a chance to snag her back. All she needed was Dora telling customers
not
to panic.

“Oh, Juan.” Jess grabbed a clean pan. Stupidly, she felt on the verge of tears.

“I told you, you’re working too hard.” After opening the side door, he eased up beside her and began cleaning up the ashy remains.

“Yes, that must be it.” Layering cheese atop a crock of onion soup, Jess slid the bowl into the toaster oven. She glanced into the small wall mirror.
What a tired mess!
She flicked a sideways glance at Juan, who was scrubbing the burnt pan.