Spinster? (19 page)

"In that case, this weekend is too far away. Can I take you to lunch tomorrow?"

She curled into her pillow and smiled. "I'd like that."

After that conversation, Tess mentally took herself off the market. It had been quite some time since she'd considered herself exclusive with a guy. Two years, to be exact...Hugh Gallagher...he'd been the last. Oh, sweet Hugh. He was British, charming, intelligent, handsome...had the penis the size of a baby carrot. Sure they look cute in a salad, but when attached to the guy you're falling for...depressing. Coming up with an excuse to end that one had taken some serious creative writing. She'd penned a Dear Hugh letter when he'd gone back home to visit his ailing grandmother in Warwickshire. It wasn't one of her bravest moments, but she stood by her decision to say no to produce-sized cocks, unless it was a cucumber...or a Japanese eggplant, if used with lube.

She and Wes couldn't see each other at night vey often because of his daughters, which she respected. She was just afraid something would fall through and he wouldn't be able to go with her to Jen's engagement party. Tess was dying for her friends to meet him, but at the same time she was terrified. She hadn't told anyone she was bringing a date. Stealth was the way to play this one, in the hope that it would stymie those who might run off at the mouth. For example, Rebel, Emma, Jen. Willa and Marin could be counted on to be ladies, but two out of five were not the kind of odds she wanted in this situation. Knowing Wesley like she did, which wasn't a lot, but enough, she knew he would find their kamikaze approach to verbal interaction amusing, but Tess would find it mortifying. She loved her friends, but freaking hell.
 

For instance, and just a few instances, mind you, one time Rebel asked Tess's date if he wanted the number for her waxer to help him with his unibrow. Emma once asked one of her steadies if he felt anal was degrading if it was consensual. And Jen once asked her date if he shopped at the Braille store for men. Usually, she found her mates hysterical, and most of the guys in these scenarios didn't mean much to her, but this guy...this guy was a different story. Telling them to take it easy on him would only tip them off to her level of interest...which could go either way. Hence the need for a sneak attack.

"Tess, I have it covered. The girls are going to spend the night at my parents'. Between the pool and the room they converted that now holds every toy known to man, the girls beg to go over there," Wesley assured her at their third lunch of the week. He was looking yummy in a navy suit with a starched white shirt beneath. She liked that the top button was pulled free. He said he only wore ties to court and when meeting a new client. She also liked that he requested a table with four chairs so he could sit next to her. Their knees were touching under the table and it was driving her crazy. She rubbed her ankles together to distract herself, though it wasn't working, not even a little. Most of all, she liked how he ran his pointer finger across the pad of her hand, just above her wrist, while he spoke. It wasn't a stroke of seduction. No, it wasn't deliberate, it was like how she rubbed the ends of her ponytail when she watched television—a soothing habit.

"I know you have a plan, but don't things fall through for parents all of the time? Fever, babysitter flaked, cheerio stuck in the nose and had to go to the ER?"

"Yes, shit happens when it comes to kids, but I'm pretty sure my folks can handle anything that comes their way—barring any cereal products in orifices. They're always saying how I should have a life, so I'm trying to. Plus, I really want to meet your friends."

"About that...you know how I speak my mind and you find it endearing?"

"Yes. I love it."

"Well, keep that in mind when you meet my friends."
 

That earned her a tilt of the head and a brow crinkle. "Sure, I'll keep that in mind."

The party was taking place at Alex's, aka K-Thor's, parents' house. It was to be an intimate affair with just their parents and close friends. This was the first of many pre-nuptial celebrations, one of which being a huge dinner at a restaurant in the burbs that her cousin's family ran. Jen said she wouldn't be surprised if the entire family on both sides showed up to that one. Weddings were a big deal in the Korean culture. In Tess's experience, with her ambiguous Caucasian upbringing, you bought a gift at William and Sonoma, and you threw bird seed. Maybe an engagement party. Usually a bridal shower, eating tiny cakes and cucumber sandwiches, making polite conversation about nothing substantial.
 

Tess knew if she ever got married it would be without hubbub—barefoot on an alabaster beach, the wind tickling her deliberately messy side chignon. The man of her dreams would also be barefoot, his sharp linen Brooks Brothers' suit pants rolled up to his calves. They would gaze into each other's eyes and say handwritten vows. Tess would cry and the groom would look at her like he'd won the lottery in life, as they clasped hands in front of their chests.

Not that'd she'd ever thought about it or anything.

"Thank you for lunch, again." Tess said, with a shade of disdain. She'd been upset that he hadn't let her contribute to any of the lunch bills. She knew he was simply being a gentleman, but it made her feel uncomfortable. She may not make a fraction of what he made, but she made enough to be comfortable, even with her shoe acquisition issues.

He smiled, placing his hand on hers. "Tess, I can't let you pay. I'm sorry. It's just how I am. The fact that you don't expect me to pay is enough and one of the many reasons I like you." She noticed his list of "reasons he liked her" was growing. It made her smile to think he found so many amicable traits in her. Most of the time, she felt like she was varying shades of bitchy.
 

Tess sighed, knowing there was no winning this argument. She figured she'd just spoil him on his birthday and on holidays, to even things out. And with that thought she asked, "When's your birthday?"

He looked surprised by the question. "Why?"

"Why? Because I want to know, silly."

He signed his name on the charge slip and stood. "July 15
th
." He pulled out her chair and held her suit jacket up.

She smiled and put her arms inside. "Thank you." She flipped her hair out of the collar and took his offered arm. When he didn't ask the same question paused. "Aren't you going to ask me when my birthday is?"

He held open the door. "Nope." Okay. She slid on her sunglasses as they waited by the curb for his car. The valet pulled up to the curb and Wes waved him off so he could help her into his SUV. He put his hand on her lower back as she stepped up into the car, rubbing the material with his thumb. He shut her door and ran around to his side, tipping the young valet. When he put on his seat belt, he reversed and said, "May 21st." A slow smile crept on her face.
 

"And how, pray tell, did you know my birthday?"

"I don't consider dating anyone without a background check. I know your credit score, too." The smile fell from her face. Background check? He held the steering wheel with one hand, looking calm and unaffected. Like he didn't just admit to invading her privacy like a heavy handed creeper.
 

After a minute, her smile returned. "About the transvestite in New Orleans, I can explain."

He busted out a laugh. "How did you know I was kidding?"

"I didn't at first, but then I thought, if I were to run a background check on someone, which, by the way, is an asshole move, I sure as hell wouldn't tell them about it."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, it is so, but it still doesn't tell me how you knew." The click of the turn signal was loud in the quiet of the car.

"Would you believe I'm psychic?" His smile was crooked and there was a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Fine, don't tell me." She gave her shoulders an impertinent shrug as the car came to a halt in front of her office building. It wasn't a big deal, but she was becoming accustomed to giving him a hard time...it was fun. She hopped out and pranced up the cobbled walkway on the left side of a water feature that took up the entire courtyard. Tess always found the silver strips of metal garish. She would have preferred a simple slate wall with a cascading wall of water.

 
She heard his quick steps behind her, yet she kept her stride swift. He grasped her arm just before she entered the looping door. He pulled her in to him, his mouth against her ear. "Where's my kiss good bye?" His grip tightened in a way that made her knees want to buckle.
 

"You want a kiss? Do you think you deserve one?" He pulled her to the side away from the thin throngs returning from
 
their own lunch breaks.

"I paid for lunch, didn't I?"

The corner of her lip curled, "I knew you had ulterior motives." The 's' was lost in his lips, that crushed onto hers. His tongue silenced any other snarks she may have thrown his way. Every finger on both of his hands pressed into the soft material of her blouse. She wished they weren't in front of her office. She wished they were alone. Just as quick as that thought had entered her head, he pulled away. His face flushed, breath coming out in delicate puffs.
 

He leaned his forehead against hers and whispered, "When you opened your wallet, in your attempt to pay that first night we went to dinner, I saw your license." Tess let out what might have been an "Uh, huh." She couldn't have cared less about the birthday stuff, unless it involved birthday suits. Attempting to gather her wits, she stood tall, tucking in the material he'd pulled free. "Pornographic memory, good to know."

"Pornographic?"

 
"Photographic! I meant photographic." She could die now.

"I thought the kiss was pretty amazing, too." He smiled and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'll call you later?"

She nodded. Her cheeks were still flushed with embarrassment, and other things, as she watched his tight, delectable backside walk away.
 

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

What to wear?

What to wear?
 

Her black silk strapless jumpsuit with her new gold strappy wedges? Or the flesh colored halter dress with the new camel sling backs? Decisions, decisions. Her butt looked good in the black, but the girls looked good in the halter. She wished she knew if Wes was a boob or an ass man. She had more than her share in both areas, but the trainer she employed last fall and his Hitler-esque regime, helped her lose three inches on her waist. His idea of a meal was steamed green veggies with a piece of fish the size of her nipple. And "just twenty more," was his favorite phrase. He'd been lucky she was usually too exhausted to kick him in the balls, but in her mind she bludgeoned him with the ten pound weight he was so fond of.
 

Results were seen, so in hindsight it was worth it, and her current hourglass figure was just right. If anyone else thought differently, they could smooch her round behind.

After thirty more minutes of deliberation, she decided to go with the jumpsuit. Thanks to her current work load, her flesh was even lighter than the flesh colored halter dress. She vowed to lay by the pool as soon as possible.
 

Her hair was an easy one. She'd bought this great curling iron, the one that gave fat ringlets. It took some practice to get it right. They made it look so easy on the sponsored post she'd seen. Much like the girls that give makeup tips. She tried to follow one once and ended up looking like a drag queen.

She preferred a simple makeup strategy— a bit of bronzer on her cheekbones and an extra layer of mascara. Done and done. She kept waiting for her nerves to catch up with her, but, to her surprise, she was nerve free this evening. Maybe it was because no one who'd be there knew Wes was coming, nor did they know about his past. She could just hear Emma saying, "So, I hear your ex-wife is a whack job." It wasn't that Tess was embarrassed about Wesley's ex. She was more embarrassed about her friends and their loose lips.
 

One year at their holiday "Winter Wino" gift exchange, she placed two small decorative bags in front of Emma and Jen. They pulled the contents from the shiny bags and gave Tess a WTF look as they each held a package of coffee filters. To which Tess batted her lashes and smiled. "You two never seem to have a filter, so there you go." It took them a few seconds to get it. "Fuck off" and "filter this, slut," were just a few of their comments. Case in point.
 

Rebel would have gotten one too, had she not been home sick with the flu.

Turned out, her fears were unwarranted. The girls behaved. Emma even seemed quasi-demure. Jen was in her own haze of adoration, with K-Thor attached to her hip. Everyone seemed to really like Wes. He was open and friendly, and of course, way easy on the eyes. It was evident he spoke in front of people for a living, convincing them that what he had to say was important. It wasn't canned or disingenuous. He was comfortable asking questions and looking people in the eye. He had this intensity that drew people in. The only time Tess cringed was when Marin asked him how long he'd been a single father, which was mildly invasive. He answered smoothly without going into detail. She held her breath, waiting for the buttinsky sisters to pounce, but they didn't. Small miracles.

It wasn't until they had a female break away moment that they started to pry. Which was fine. Tess didn't care what they asked as long as it was directed at her, and when Wes was at least twenty feet away.

"Where have you been hiding Mr. Legal Briefs? And have you seen them?" Emma asked.

"We've just started dating. And, no, I haven't seen his briefs yet...but I really want to."

"What's the hold up?" Jen asked.

"I think he's a gentleman or something, damn it," Tess teased.

"Oh no!" the girls screeched.

"Shhh, keep your voices down, guys. I don't want him to think we're talking about him."

"By the way he's watching you, he probably already suspects," Marin added.