Love Online (Truly Yours Digital Editions) (3 page)

Making her way to the doors, she slipped out of the kitchen quietly. All she wanted was a sneak peek at Tom without his detecting her. She strode forward about ten paces and halted behind a wide pillar. From this vantage point, she’d be able to catch a glimpse of Tom’s favorite table. She peered around the pole like a kid playing hide-and-seek.

“What are you doing?”

Jess spun and released a soft gasp. “Nothing!”

Tom tilted his head, his dark eyes narrowed. “I heard the alarm. You okay?”

Clamping her hands behind her back, she straightened. “Yes, of course. A little mishap, but—”

“When you have a minute”—Tom smiled, sending a whirly-twirly to her stomach—“could you stop by my table?”

Why was she thinking whirly-twirly about her best friend? More than a little dread washed through her. Jess pulled in a deep breath. “Sure. Business or pleasure?”

“Business.” Tom winked. “Make me look good.”

“Right.” Pressing her hand flat against the pillar, she watched him walk away, tall and handsome in his dark suit. A distant bell rang in her head.
The alarm!
Pivoting, she ran toward the kitchen, banged through the doors, and clamped both of her hands to her face.

Speaking Spanish furiously, Juan was taking aim at the alarm with the broom handle again.

Jess flew to the toaster oven, tears spilling down her face.

“I got it already,” Juan called.

Staring down at the blackened cheese on the soup crock, she dabbed her cheeks with the back of her hand. She could easily rip off her chef’s uniform, jump into her street clothes, and run out the back door. And keep on running. Trade in all of this for—for what? Since marriage proposals weren’t plentiful, did she even have options? She didn’t know how to do anything but cook, and judging by the amount of black in her kitchen, she was beginning to doubt that.

She shook her head. Her father had worked double shifts all her life to ensure she had the best education. He didn’t want her to become the damsel in distress after he was gone.
If you’re looking down from heaven, Daddy, I’m sorry for acting so ‘girly-girl’ under stress. It’s not what you taught me.

More tears came unabated, running hot and zigzagging down her face. Grasping the edge of the counter, Jess took in deep breaths.
I can do this
. She moved to the refrigerator.

This job was everything she’d ever wanted. She’d practically broken her back to become the top chef at one of Manhattan’s best restaurants, and she wasn’t about to blow it all in one emotional outburst. Her gaze skipped over Juan’s sympathetic smile. She grabbed another pan.

Assembling each dish methodically, her thoughts returned to Tom. He was virtually the only man alive who knew the weak and needy Jessica. It was far too dangerous to be thinking of Tom in terms of whirly-twirlies. That would never do. She could show her best friend that side of her, but never the man she intended to marry. Her father was right—it was fine to want a man, but not to need one.

And she needed Tom.

She’d have to put a lid on whatever sparked the wild attraction in the dining room. Four days without speaking to him probably accounted for overreacting at the sight of him.

“Juan, I’ll take the desserts out to Tom’s table.”

Spooning an extra dollop of heavy cream on the brownie, Juan pushed the plate toward her. “Finished.”

“Beautiful.” Jess smiled. She picked up the tray and walked through the doors. If Tom had bothered to ask her to make him look good, his dinner guests must be important—

Jess stopped a few feet from the table, hesitating to intrude on what appeared to be an intimate exchange between Tom and the beautiful woman sitting beside him. But she tilted her chin, smiled, and approached.

“Jessica.” Tom stood, as if surprised to see her in her own place of work.

“Good evening.” Jess set down the desserts. “Was everything okay?”

The two older, distinguished gentlemen nodded and smiled. The woman stared at Tom starry-eyed, perhaps hoping he’d do the talking for her.

“This is Heather Webster,” Tom said.

She looked like a Heather Webster. A pale, blond beauty who rode horses in Connecticut. Jess shook her outstretched hand. “Pleased to meet you.” After being introduced to Tom’s two other guests, she stepped back, only too happy to make a hasty retreat.

“Oh,” Heather whispered, “the salmon was a little dry.”

Jessica’s already shaky smile froze on her face. “Was it? I’m so sorry.”

Heather waved her delicate hand. “No big deal, actually.” She turned to Tom, a benign smile on her face. “No big deal,” she mouthed.

Tom cleared his throat. “Everything I had was delicious.”

“Great—well, have a nice rest of the evening.” Jess turned and strode quickly toward the kitchen. There was no way she’d permit herself another bout of tears.

“Jess, wait.”

She spun toward Tom’s voice, finding he had followed her. There was no good reason for her to feel stabbed in the back. But that’s precisely how she felt. Like she was losing her grasp on something—her stability or their friendship.

“Sorry about that rude comment. Heather was fine with the dinner while she was eating it.” Tom grinned.

“No problem,” she fibbed. “I can’t be perfect.” Everything in her wanted to ask why he hadn’t called. She forced back the questions. “By the way, I decided not to join the online dating service.”

“You did?” Tom dipped his chin.

Instead of setting their friendship back on course, Tom sounded disappointed. “Well, I–I. . .” She searched for words to recover from her embarrassment. “I’m sure I can find husband material some other way.”

“Ah.” Tom nodded. “Well, this may sound funny, but I’m going to join.”

“Funny?” Jess whispered. “I—”

“We’ll talk later. I have to get back to my table.”

Funny?
In the kitchen, Jess leaned against the table, shaking her head. What a kick in the shins. Now she would join Love Online if it were the last thing she did! And looking around her, it hit her that it just might be the last thing she did.

Three

Tom popped two slices of bread into the toaster and poured himself a cup of coffee. Yawning, he went to his laptop on the kitchen table and typed in his password. “Curiosity killed the cat,” his mom would say. He smiled, then took a long swallow from his cup. The Love Online idea may have started as a means to get Jess out of his mind, but now he was curious about the kind of feedback he’d get. Would he be the most popular guy of the Internet world or the nerd no one contacted?

Scanning his E-mail, Tom grimaced as he counted the messages. Eighteen responses, and he hadn’t even posted his mug shot. This endeavor might require more time than he’d bargained for. But at least his world had options where they hadn’t existed before.

Opening the first message, he took a few seconds to assimilate his new identity—TCTwo—and how he’d come to decide on it. He never used his middle name, Christopher, but he was born Thomas Christopher Winters II, after all. The long-awaited son after four daughters, his parents thought he was royalty. He shook his head. They meant well, but their decision to retire to Florida turned out for the best all the way around. As far as his family was concerned, Jess was their future daughter-in-law. He wouldn’t fare well, having to explain a couple of visits to their house without her.

At the sound of the toaster, Tom returned to the counter. Jess still might be husband hunting, but at least now she wouldn’t put herself at risk on the Internet—or so she said when he’d seen her last in Flavors.

Poor Jess, he thought, buttering his toast. She seemed shaken Thursday night. Was it Heather’s dry-salmon remark? Jess might be a perfectionist, but he could count on one hand the times he’d seen her cry in sixteen years. And Thursday she’d looked close to tears. She was such an anomaly. She hadn’t had a successful date in years, yet never a tear, but one comment on her salmon and she was putty. Perhaps that’s why he loved her so. He never knew what to expect.

This month had always been a struggle for her—first Mother’s Day, followed by the anniversary of her beloved father’s death. He grimaced. He felt like a slug for not being there to help her over the hurdles in May.

Tom gave a grunt, jerked open the refrigerator door, and replaced the butter. As if Jess needed him to make it through life! She’d made it clear he lacked what she required when it came to a lifetime commitment.

Taking his juice and toast to the table, he sat down to read the first E-mail, grateful for the anonymity of the process. No real names, they strongly recommended, just initials or handles. Most members posted photos, but there was truth behind Frank’s witty comment. Physical attributes had little to do with being well matched. If physical attraction were the key to compatibility, he and Jess would be celebrating their tenth wedding anniversary. Enough people had referred to them as a “beautiful couple” to make them crack up whenever they heard it.

Tom shoved the thought aside, rested his chin on his fist, and looked at the computer screen.

Dear TCTwo,

I read your profile. My photo and other information are posted on the site. I live on East 34
^th
Street and. . .

Tom’s gaze dropped to the bottom of the message. The woman signed her real name. “Not smart.” He took a bite into the toast and brushed the crumbs off his fingers. He’d have to write and let her know she should be more careful. He closed and saved her E-mail, then opened the next.

No salutation.
I’ve never done this before, and I’m not desperate to meet men!

Tom burst out laughing. Wait till he got his hands on Frank for goading him into joining. The more he read of the missive, the more relieved he felt that Jess hadn’t subjected herself to this.

Drinking his orange juice, Tom moved on to the third E-mail:

Dear TCTWO,

If you want to see my personality profile, I’m listed as Lab711. It seems we have a lot in common. I see you’re a backgammon pro. Me too! And I can give you a run for your money. I also enjoy jogging, dining out, funny movies, and antiquing.

I’m in my early thirties, live in Manhattan, and, like you, my career keeps me too busy to socialize on a regular basis. I haven’t posted my photo and probably won’t, but I’m slender, tall, have dark hair and blue eyes. (If you’re thinking Liz Hurley, think again, but I’m attractive on a different level.)

Tom leaned back in his chair and caught his breath. She could’ve been describing Jess. Shaking his head, he groaned. “None of that stuff.” As Frank said, “Get over it already!” He refocused on the remainder of her message.

More important than looks, hobbies, career, etc., I want to meet a man who loves the Lord and puts Him first in his life. If you’re still interested in communicating, I’d like to hear from you.

Sincerely, L

Raising his brows, Tom pressed the
REPLY
button. “Okay, Lab-seven-eleven. . .” Her interests and priorities were definitely similar to his. Why not?

Tom crossed his arms while composing a reply in his head, then set his fingers to the keyboard. He didn’t have to meet her face-to-face until, and unless, he felt ready, but the sooner he started his journey in a new direction, the better.

At the shrill of the phone, Tom glanced up at the clock and decided to let the machine get it. Instead of the hang-up from a telemarketer he’d anticipated, he heard Heather Webster’s soft voice. He stood, went to the living room, and approached the voice machine hesitantly.

“I know it’s Saturday,” Heather uttered apologetically, “but I’d love it if you could take some time this afternoon to meet with me before I leave town. I need clarity on the finer points of the financial analysis you did for us, and—”

Tom rubbed his hand across his jaw. Pick up?
She’s a client. She needs help.
He expelled a breath and grabbed the cordless. “Hello, Heather.”

“Wonderful! I caught you in!”

Where else would he be at eight in the morning on his day off? “Yeah, I was planning on a jog in the park, but afterward we can—”

“Sounds tempting. Mind if I join you?”

“On my jog?” Tom cupped his hand to the back of his neck. Business and pleasure were usually a sour mix. He cleared his throat. “I thought you wanted me to look over the reports.”

“I do, but I can afford to work off a few extra pounds before we get to it.” Heather laughed. “Plus I need your signature on something. It’s sort of a recommendation. Long story.”

Tom smiled. If only Jess heard the overweight comment coming from rail-thin Heather, she’d say, “She’s fishing for compliments.” Much as he wanted to give her one, he thought better of baiting his client. “I’m leaving in about fifteen minutes.” That should discourage her.

“Sounds good. I’m staying at the Beverly, a couple of blocks from you if I’m reading your business card correctly.”

Great!
Tom dragged his hand through his hair. No polite way to squirm out of it. “I’ll be waiting downstairs then.”

After hanging up, he went to the kitchen and snapped off the computer. Out of necessity, his new life would have to be put on hold for awhile longer.

❧

“Get your feet off that sofa right now!” Marilyn sprinted around the wooden coffee table while her three year old skillfully dodged her grasping hand.

Jess pressed her fingers to her lips to hide her grin from the precocious toddler. “It’s an old sofa, Marilyn. Don’t worry about it.”

“He has to learn to listen,” she said between gasps. With her curly blond hair popping loose from her ponytail holder, Marilyn scooped her chubby son under one arm and dropped to the sofa. “On my lap, Mister, till you learn to behave.” She puffed out a breath. “So what’s that you were saying about your biological clock?”