Tempted (12 page)

I click on his page’s link, praying that those sites promising to show you exactly who is looking at your page are scams.
 
Otherwise, I will have lots of explaining to do to him.
 
His latest post is of the comedic variety.

That was pretty funny and rather coincidental, given I’m eating something lemony as I read it.
 
Great minds and all.

Next up is a note from a guy named Ken.
 
I think I read this one already but what the heck
...

Oh my gosh!
 
Everything Alex wrote is almost exactly what I just said to Kelly!
 
And my quip about a man being worth his weight in beans?
 
I must have gotten that from this guy Ken’s post!
 
Good grief!
 
I just plagiarized Alex on my show!

* * *

My house has never looked more beautiful.
 
Mom really has exquisite taste
,
and with her prodding I’ve been tending to the pretty
,
little design details that make a house a home.
 
She has made it clear that the purpose of all this better homes and gardens work is to attract and land a man.
 
Oy.
 
If she really knew my current take on romance she would give up the ghost
–
and undoubtedly come back to haunt me mercilessly.

These days
,
I am pretty darn content with things just the way they are.
 
Geronimo has taken on a position of responsibility with the homeless shelter where he volunteers, and when he makes the occasional call to me
,
it is always to regale me with stories about work and volunteering, or to ask me to collect bottles, cans and now
,
shoes for his favorite philanthropies.
 
Bret has managed to get his wife pregnant again
,
and yet
was still pursuing me until the little woman
caught onto his antics and put a stop to them.
 
It all came down when she found his second cell phone and called every number in it.
 
Evidently, there were many, including mine.

London-boy Stuart has found a sweet little shop girl who works a couple of doors down from his bookstore
,
and has changed his status to ‘in a relationship.’
 
And Ed, well, Ed has started dying his remaining hair in strange and wondrous ways to look younger.
 
He’s also purchased a TransAm T-top muscle car and switched from line dancing to salsa.

Basically, it’s all quiet on the flirt front, and whatever titillation I desire I get from the bawdy comments left on Alex’s wall by his harem.
 
Like bees to honey, moths to flame, intelligent, strong and interesting women flock to Alex, and stay there.
 
In addition to his inspiring ‘brothers and sisters’ posts, poetry
,
and witty banter, I get an enormous kick out of his bawdier missives.
 
He is a master of
the salacious tease
, writing about something innocuous in the most deliciously dangerous ways possible.
 
He literally has women eating out of his hand.

His current post and its attendant thread are a doozy, and though I try to hang back playing the voyeur, even I sometimes became ensnared in his web.

* * *

Ever since Alex’s Strawberry-Rhubarb Pie post, I find myself distracted more often.
 
The friendly cashier at Starbucks has to ask, “Can I get a drink started for you?” three times before I clue into th
e fact that he is talking to me,
even though I am at the counter and looking right at him.
 
Same goes for the barista who calls my name repeatedly to let me know my
Mocha
is ready.
 

At home, I’ve been equally befuddled, leaving my keys in the freezer, putting the milk in the cupboard, donning shirts inside out, feeding dog kibble to the birds, and engaging in all manner of other silly backwardness.
 
Despite my current spate of airheadedness, or perhaps because of it, I find I am managing my days with elan and good-natured nonchalance.
 
There is a quiet confidence beginning to grow in me, as well as a recklessness.
 
And I notice myself thinking of pie
more frequently
than ice cream.

I’ve also effortlessly and inadvertently adopted the habit of having all of my show preparations completed by teatime Monday, as opposed to the manic blitz I used to begin the night before broadcast.
 
I’ve started wearing my hair down more often.
 
I’ve even caught myself reading the labels on mascara tubes.
 
My mom says it’s my biological clock’s alarm going off and that I better pay heed before it runs out of batteries.
 

I consid
ered that I may have a case of s
pring fever
, but we are now into sultry s
ummer.
Ahhhh, that must be it
–
the warmth, sweatiness and clothing-light lust of the year’s hot and humid dog days.

I’ve even found myself laughing at people’s jokes more often, and I don’t mean the good ones.
 
All in all, I am pleased and grateful for my increased
joie de vivre
–
quite a departure from the ennui of a few months back.
 
I especially like how it has impacted my show.
 
I handle write-in advice questions with much greater aplomb and much less
milita
nce.
 
I’m even delighted when he’s-cooking-me-dinner Kelly
–
to whom I unwittingly gave advice I’d p
lagiariz
ed from Alex’s wall
–
calls back to tell how she made out with her man, in a manner of speaking.

“Hello, hello?
 
Can you hear me?” she chirps.

“Hi, Kelly.
 
Yes, we can all hear you now.
 
You’re live on the air.”

“Oh my golly, this is such a treat.
 
I am your number one fan, Claire.”

“Haha I take it that means your date went well?” I ask.

“No I mean fan of the show.
 
Umm, but yeh, the date was
...

 
He’s so
...

“That good, huh?” I respond wryly.
 
“How was the dinner he made for you, dear?”

“Oh my goodness, it was so delicious!
 
He made all sorts of things that he knew I loved.
 
Brisket and corn and beans and he even made my favorite pie!
 
Strawberry-rhubarb
–
from scratch!
 
He was writing about it on Facebook while he was making it and all these women were drooling and getting hot and bothered.
 
All the comments made me so nervous I had to leave the conversation.
 

 
The pie came out great though!
 
I’m going to have to go to a lot of pole fitness classes to work off that meal, I can tell you.”

Something snaps in my brain and instantly I know.
 
Dinner-date dude is Alexander Armstrong.

A Lover's Plea

Take my hand and walk with me

Beneath the porcelain midnight moon

Who heavily sighs in Elysiac skies,

And blushes, dimming as you pass.

Take my mouth and speak with me

In summer's midday splendid light

Though Phoebus pales and groans, dismayed

And gathers clouds to hide his shame.

Take my heart and love with me

In eldritch endless wildflower fields

Though poets bow and 'lease their quills

And songbirds, silenced, learn to sing.

Take my flesh and lay with me

Through reckless honeyed eternal nights

Though dawn herself should pause and bend

To savor the loft of our desire's heights.

Take my soul and be with me

Take all I am, to have and hold

Drenched in the pearls of your precious grace

Your Heaven will shine upon my face

And take me.

AVA

So begins another day as I struggle to open my eyes, crack open my laptop, click on my Facebook page
,
and find this first post in my newsfeed, the low gurgling groans of brewing coffee serving as soundtrack to the scene.