Mr. Wonderful Lies (8 page)

Watching him disappear around the corner I had the inane thought that
this
was what was wrong with sexy. It never made a damn bit of sense.

I was still thinking about Jared’s bizarre mood swings the following day when I met Anna for lunch. She’d picked a little hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant not too far from my townhouse. Their food is to die for. We eat there at least twice a month.

The unseasonably warm weather had turned bitterly cold sometime during the night, so I drove the five blocks. Parking in the tiny lot across the narrow street, I zipped up my quilted pea coat and dashed to the doorway. Assaulted by freezing pellets of something that couldn’t decide if it was rain, sleet or snow, I managed to navigate the route without falling on my ass.

Anna was already inside. Ensconced at a warm corner table out of the drafty air coming from the doorway, she was reading the real estate page of the Post Dispatch. She wore stiletto heels, a straight black skirt that came to the middle of her shapely thighs, a trendy jewel-toned blouse, and a designer jacket. Her long, white cashmere coat was carefully draped over an extra chair.

I navigated my way back to her, taking special pains to avoid the jumble of brightly colored sombreros, cacti, chili ristras, and clay statues that decorated the tightly packed restaurant.

She looked up from the paper when I started taking off my coat, careful to put it on the back of my chair to avoid the perfection of her white cashmere. I didn’t need a mirror to know I didn’t look a fraction as put together as Anna did. My hair was curling wildly all over the place, having escaped the bun I’d secured that morning, and any makeup that still remained on my face was in streaks. Then there was the difference in clothing. My blue jeans, layered T-shirts, and Docs were coated with a layer of water.

“Why are you so wet?” Anna asked.

“Because it’s
precipitating
,” I said. “And because I don’t walk around in some weird personal bubble like you do.”

“Don’t be silly,” she gestured to an umbrella leaning against the wall nearby. “I just came prepared.”

“Sometimes I hate you.”

“Oh come on, don’t be like that. I ordered your favorite.” Anna shot me a sly smile. “It’s Friday night date night. Surely you’ve got something else to be happy about?”

A grin tugged at the corners of my mouth. There was that. “He’s picking me up at eight.”

“Where are you going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Anna pursed her lips. “Could you at least text me when you get there?”

I smiled up at the waiter who put a glass of iced tea in front of me. “Yes, I’ll text you.”

“So, did Jared get your sink fixed?”

“Yes, he did.” I remembered the strange conversation I’d had with him before he’d stormed off. “Speaking of Jared, is he involved with anyone right now?”

Anna’s face closed, her expression decidedly guarded. “Why?”

“He was going on and on yesterday about nobody thinking that sexy can be responsible.”

Anna blinked in confusion. “
What
about sexy?”

“I’m not sure, but I think he was using the word sexy as a euphemism for himself. And from the things he was saying, he sounded like some woman doesn’t think he’s good enough for her or something.”

“Is that so?”

I shrugged, trying to remain completely nonchalant. “I’ve just never seen him so agitated about something like that.”

“I’ll have to ask him about it,” Anna murmured just as our food arrived, the smell of burritos slathered in green chili sauce and pico de gallo making my mouth water.

I dug into my bean and cheese concoction, and Anna ate her chicken enchilada with as much elegance as she does everything else. I don’t eat meat at all, not because I’m a big believer in animal rights, I just don’t like it. I’ve been vegetarian for so long that I think it’d make me sick to change my habits.

“You know what Sunday is, right?” Anna lifted an eyebrow.

“Third Sunday of the month.”

“And?”

I rolled my eyes. “Brunch. I’ll be there. Some things just shouldn’t be messed with.”

“What about fourth Friday happy hour at Cheeky’s?”

I was reminded of my earlier theory about Anna’s bad attitude toward Ollie being tied up in her worries about losing my friendship. “Another sacred event that I wouldn’t miss for anything.”

“Good.”

“In fact”—I slanted a sideways look at her—“I think I’ll see if Ollie can come with me. Maybe if you two meet him, there won’t be so much friction.”

She straightened, a brilliant smile lighting up her face. “I think that’s your best idea yet.”

I grinned, feeling better than I had since making my ill-fated Ollie announcement at my birthday party. My friends were important to me. If my relationship with Ollie was going to go anywhere, I needed to reconcile the two parts of my life.

* * *

I wasn’t quite as nervous about putting myself together for that first official date night with Ollie as I had been for our first meeting. Seeing him in person had proved not only that the chemistry between us was real, but that we could have as much fun doing live conversation as we did chatting online. It was a good feeling. For the first time in a long time I began to wonder if I might actually marry before that dreaded personal deadline.

Not that I’d be flinging that idea at Ollie anytime soon. I didn’t want to scare him.

I dusted off my nice clothes for that first official date. Just because I don’t dress up very often doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy doing it every once in awhile. I chose my favorite dress, something Anna picked up for me on a trip to New York. The filmy black number has a plunging neckline and high waistline that always manages to make me feel dainty and feminine. The skirt hits just below my knees and the sleeves are cap so I added a soft, clingy wine-colored cashmere cardigan. Searching my closet for just the right shoes, I gleefully dusted off my high-heeled black boots. I just prayed I wouldn’t fall flat on my face from a lack of practice wearing them.

The hair was a little trickier. At 7:40 I was still cursing myself for not scheduling an appointment with Anna’s stylist. Knowing I had very little time before Ollie would show up at the door, I did my best to untangle the dark mass before taking a chance and leaving it down. I had to admit that the end result in the mirror wasn’t bad. I wasn’t going to win any red carpet fashion awards, but I didn’t quite qualify as a fashion disaster either.

At least finding a purse to go with my ensemble wasn’t an issue. I have a bit of a handbag fetish. It’s probably my only major spending pitfall. I love designer bags. My entire bedroom is covered in them. If there were much in the way of closets in my townhouse they would be stuffed full of handbags.

I grabbed one of my favorites, a small Guess purse with plenty of chrome and black distressed leather. Packing it full of those essential things you never want to be without, I slipped my feet into my boots and zipped them just as I heard a knock on the front door.

Stopping to run a final check of makeup and hair probably would’ve been the best course of action, but I was too excited. I hadn’t’ seen Ollie since that first Wednesday morning at the café. Even talking on the phone for three or four hours a day didn’t satisfy the longing I felt for him.

I flung open the heavy oak front door and tried to keep my smile from leaping off my face. He wore neat black pants and a dark green button down shirt that ratcheted up the gorgeous factor of his green eyes to almost unbearable. He was smiling, even teeth flashing in the light of my front steps. He’d brought me a dozen red roses.

“Hey you.” He held out the roses. “Holy cow, you’re beautiful.”

I took the flowers, my belly twisting into tight knots that sent pulses of awareness to every part of my body. Right then and there I wanted to wrap my arms around his neck and see if his lips were as full and soft as they looked.

I cleared my throat instead. “Thank you. They’re beautiful. You want to come in while I get a vase?”

“Sure, thanks.”

Tall and broad, he dwarfed my kitchen with his overwhelming presence. Vividly aware of his frank scrutiny of my home, I reached beneath my newly organized sink for a vase. Filling it half full of water, I set it on my petite kitchen table and arranged the roses inside.

“I see you got someone to fix the sink.”

I laughed, suddenly bubbling over to tell him about my silly adventure. “You’ll never guess what started the trouble.”

Ollie took a few steps around the table, his gaze fixed on me. “What happened?”

“My phone charger got stuck in the garbage disposal.”

Both of his eyebrows shot up.

“I can’t believe I did something so stupid!”

“Stupid?” Ollie grabbed my hand. “Megan, you were incredibly lucky. The breakers in these old houses aren’t what they should be. If the power hadn’t gone off, your sink would have been live! You could’ve been electrocuted just by touching it.”

He lifted my hand to his mouth, lips brushing my knuckles. The bottom dropped out of my stomach altogether and a tingle shot down my spine. I felt giddy and more aware than I’d felt since before Professor Jackass.

“Just the thought of what might have happened practically gives me a heart attack.” He pulled me closer. “Please be more careful. Did the repair guy get everything squared away?”

“Anna sent Jared over to take care of it. You remember I told you about my friend Anna, right?”

“The real estate agent.”

“Yup. She knows half the contractors in the city so I always call her when I need something taken care of. “

“So is Jared her boyfriend?”

A niggling sense of unease rippled through me. “No, Jared is the guy you saw the other morning at the café.”

“I see.”

The flat tone in his voice and the decided chill in his eyes didn’t quite match the nonchalant look on his face. Feeling unexpectedly uncomfortable, I headed for the front door. “Are you ready? I’m excited to see where we’re going. You never told me.”

The coolness in his expression was replaced by forced warmth. “It’s a surprise. I promise you’ll like it.”

“Great!”

I managed to remain vertical on my trip down the front steps in my high-heeled boots, and Ollie opened the door to his SUV to help me in. It wasn’t a monster truck, but it still took a little leap for me to land my butt on the seat.

“Careful with those heels.”

“Afraid I’m going to unintentionally stab you with them?” I arranged the edges of my wispy skirt around my legs and tucked them safely into the vehicle.

“Baby, you can do whatever you want to me with those heels.”

He shut the door and strode around the vehicle, climbing inside and settling himself behind the wheel. The Barbies were absent from the backseat. I wasn’t sure why, but I was glad.

I took a deep breath and smelled faint traces of Ollie’s cologne. I tried not to be distracted from the questions burning in my mind. Our conversations thus far had always been prone to light banter. I didn’t really mind. I liked the playful tone of our interactions. It was one of the things that had drawn me so forcefully to Ollie in the first place. But my talk with Jared burned at the back of my mind.

“So, do you go out much?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

He glanced over, surprise evident in his expression. “Not all that much. I date occasionally, but not usually long term.”

I’d already stuck my fat mouth in the middle of this conversation without clearing it with my brain, so I figured I might as well see things through. “Why not?”

He shrugged, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “Women tend to look for one of two things in a guy.”

“That would be?”

“Looks and money.”

I fiddled with the clasp on my handbag, not liking the bitterness in his tone. “Wow, you don’t cut us any slack do you?”

Ollie flashed me a grin. “Don’t try that wounded female sensibility stuff with me. I’ve heard you cut your gender less slack than I do.”

“Crap, you know all my secrets.”

“I can think of a few secrets I haven’t had the pleasure of learning.”

“Dare I ask what those might be?”

“Not on a first date. It’d blow my gentlemanly image.”

I pressed my hand to my heart and batted my eyelashes. “My word, I do declare you to be a rake of the first order Mr. Oliver.”

His brow furrowed. “Ugh, Ollie please. I’m Mr. Oliver at work and nowhere else.”

“So why not Elliot?” I mused, trying it out. “Oh Ellie, you’re so…”

“Emasculated,” he finished, mouth curved into a wry grin.

“You’re a bear of a man; I can’t imagine much that could emasculate a guy like you.”

“Baby, you flatter me.”

“No seriously,” I argued. “I can’t see you as even remotely girly.”

“Carissa would disagree,” he muttered darkly.

I felt as if someone had sloshed ice-cold water down my back. I cleared my suddenly dry throat and ran my tongue over papery lips. “Who’s Carissa?”