What a Girl Wants (6 page)

It didn’t suit him, but he didn’t need to tell her that. “And you, Diane?”

“I’ve been conquering the world, babe.” She held a hand to signal the waitress. When the woman arrived, Diane smiled at her and said, “Two Hendricks’s martinis, up, one dirty with lots of olives and the other with a twist.”

Lillian never ordered for him. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Diane taking the reins like that. “You remembered what I drink.”

“Gin martini with a twist isn’t the most challenging thing to remember.” She smiled to soften her words, putting her chin in her palm and staring at him. “I’ve been trying to figure out why you called me. I came up with two reasons.”

“What are they?”

“One”—she held up a finger—“that you need sex.”

He nodded, pretending to be noncommittal. “And the second?”

“That you’re going through the identity thing men go through when they retire and want to assure yourself you’re still powerful. Either way, you want to resume our flirtation.”

He winced. “That was direct.”

“I’ve never been anything but.” She smiled her thanks at the waitress as she set the martinis on the table in front of them. “So which is it?”

“Can’t I want to see you for yourself?” He raised his glass and took a sip.

“Yes, but that’s not you.” She leaned her chin on her hand again. “How’s Lillian, Edward?”

He frowned. “You remember her name.”

“Of course I do.” She rolled her eyes as she took as exuberant gulp of her drink. “I was so jealous of her.”

“You? Of her?”

She nodded, her smile tinged with regret. “I’d give anything to have someone love me the way you love her.”

He shook his head. “I—”

“You are full of shit if you say anything to the contrary.” She leaned forward. “Do you know why we didn’t hook up four years ago?”

How did he get on the defensive here? “Because we were both busy.”

“For all your intelligence, you’re really stupid, Edward.” She sat back, crossing her legs. “We never pursued anything because you’re in love with your wife.”

He stilled.

She gaped at him. “Seriously? You didn’t know that was why I backed off?”

“I thought you were busy. We were both busy.”

“Yes, but I wasn’t going to take what wasn’t mine.” Her eyes narrowed. “You still love her.”

He thought about Lillian and felt a pang that felt a lot like guilt and hurt. “Lillian isn’t why I called you.”

“Isn’t she?” Diane pursed her lips. “So you’re ready to leave her?”

He blinked, shocked by the idea.

Diane grinned wryly. “I thought not.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Yes, I do, actually. You’re going through something. I don’t know if it’s a crisis or boredom or just stupidity, but I’m going to do you a favor. Are you listening? Because I’m going to give you the best advice you’ve ever gotten.” Without waiting for a response, she leaned in and lowered her voice. “You need to date your wife.”

He tried to picture what that looked like. When they were younger, they’d done all sorts of things together. Even going grocery shopping had been an adventure. Now he couldn’t imagine either one of them wanting to do it.

“The effort you’re putting into this”—Diane waved her hand between them—“you need to put into her and your relationship. I guarantee that if you tried to have an affair with her, you’d find what you lost.”

Hearing her say it made him have a weird feeling in his chest. Like hope. “It’s not that easy.”

“Of course it’s not. This is a relationship. Relationships are hard and require a lot of work.” She grinned, though it was tinged with sadness. “Why do you think I don’t do them, babe?”

“I don’t know that Lillian will be interested.”

“Then make her interested. She’s your wife. If she weren’t interested she’d have left your ass years ago. Women don’t wait around, letting their youth pass them by, for men who aren’t worthy.” Diane stopped, all the fight going out of her so there was only concern and the desire to make him see. “You have something that’s so rare. It’s worth fighting for. Give it a month, Edward, but really try.”

She got up, hands braced on the table, leaning over him, eyes blazing with passion. “But you better really try. This is your moment, Edward. You have a chance to save what has obviously been important to you all these years. It’s a second chance at happiness. Don’t fuck it up.”

He watched her sashay out of the restaurant, her hips swaying to her inherent sassiness.

Don’t fuck it up.

He downed the rest of his martini. He wasn’t sure he hadn’t already.

‡

T
he Internet was a wondrous thing.

“Except for when you can’t find what you’re looking for,” Ariana mumbled, squinting at the screen. She’d located both her parents’ class reunion pages, but none of the people who’d listed themselves looked like the woman in the picture.

Then she opened a new tab and typed “Sebastian Tate” in the search field, clicking on the images link.

Like magic, his picture filled the screen. In most of the pictures he wore suits and a tighter, less abandoned version of his smile. He should have looked like a business douche—the type of man she avoided—but instead he looked hot.

She leaned in, staring at his face. It had character and strength; it was handsome but not pretty. His eyes looked through her even virtually, as if he was trying to see all the imperfect layers beneath the surface.

On
his
surface, there was nothing imperfect about him. It’d taken all her control not to run her hands over his shoulders and chest.

Until she’d found out who he was.

Sighing, she checked the time and winced. George was probably wondering where her coffee was. She closed the laptop and got up to get on with her day.

Coffee made, Ariana went downstairs to make her delivery. She opened the door and walked down the steps, careful with the overfull mug in her hand.

“Hey, Ariana.”

Startled, she turned so quickly that she splashed hot coffee on her fingers. “Damn it¸” she muttered, switching the cup to her other hand and shaking the hot liquid off.

“Sorry,” Esme said with an apologetic wince as she stood from where she sat on the stoop. “Some would say that’s life telling you it’s time to pay attention.”

Or maybe life was telling her it was time to move somewhere where her neighbor didn’t sneak up on her. “Is that a premonition?”

“Nah. Just common sense.” Esme smiled brightly. “So did you meet him?”

Sebastian popped back into her head, and she flushed, feeling like she’d been caught looking at porn.

“You’re wearing peppermint!” Esme exclaimed suddenly. She leaned in and inhaled. “You listened to me.”

Now Ariana felt silly that she had. She shifted her weight, adjusting her grip on the mug.

“You did good.” The woman patted her arm. “Peppermint gives him hope that warm times lost can be found again.”

“Who are you talking about?” she asked, wondering if she’d fallen into a different dimension.

“Don’t you know?” Tipping her head, she studied her. Her light eyes looked eerie, like they could see all the way to her soul.

It was just the lighting, probably.

“You
do
know about your businessman.” Esme sagged with relief, pretending to wipe her brow. “Whew. You had me worried for a sec.”

“Businessman?” She blinked. How did Esme know about Sebastian?
What
did she know about Sebastian? Hopefully it wasn’t that his voice made her hot and bothered.

She should ask.

No, she shouldn’t. What could Esme know? Besides, she didn’t want to encourage her. “I don’t want a businessman.”

“What do you want?” Esme asked with a curious tip of her head.

Someone who was environmentally aware like she was. Who cared for owls. Definitely not Sebastian Tate.

Liar, her conscience whispered.

“I’ll know when I see him,” she replied out loud. “I appreciate your concern though.”

“This is really important, Ariana. No pusillanimous excuses.”

She
had
entered a different dimension. “No what?”

Esme sighed, obviously put upon. “Don’t be a coward. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Okay.” She tried to smile as she edged away. “Thanks for the words of wisdom.”

“Don’t dismiss this casually, Ariana,” Esme called after her. “It could mean your happiness.”

Goose bumps rose on her arms, and she shivered as she rounded the corner and ducked into George’s garage.

George straightened from the engine she was peering into. Her expression lifted and she reached her hands out, her fingers twitching. “Coffee,” she said like she was a zombie.

“It’s hot,” Ariana warned as she handed it over.

“Good. Cold in here.” Her friend wrapped her hands around the mug and sighed as though she tasted heaven. Then she frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“I had an encounter with Esme.” She leaned against the car, pretending to be blasé about it when she was kind of weirded out. “She sees a businessman in my future.”

“
Do
you have a businessman in your future?”

“Kind of.” She thought about Sebastian and how his voice made her swoon, and then she frowned. “The guy my dad extorted to help me get into Whole Foods.”

“You don’t want to get into Whole Foods.”

“I know, but no matter how many times I’ve told them, they don’t listen.” She crossed her arms. “He came to see me on Monday.”

“Your dad?”

“No. Sebastian. The guy my dad sent.”

George’s eyebrows shot up. “How did that go?”

“I gave him a facial.”

“Kinky.”

“It’s worse,” Ariana admitted. “He’s coming back today for shaving cream.”

“Interesting.”

She bit her lip. “Do you believe Esme is actually a psychic?”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

Shrugging, George leaned against the fender. “There’s a simple explanation for Esme and her ominous businessman-in-your-future talk. She probably ran into him.”

“Probably.” Ariana frowned.

“You don’t really believe Esme has powers, do you?” her friend asked.

“Of course not.” It was pretty unlikely. For the most part.

But what if Esme did really know things? Ariana thought of the picture of the mysterious woman. Could Esme tell her something to help her find out who it was?

She was being crazy. Esme wouldn’t be able to help her with the picture any more than the Internet could, and Ariana had been attracted to Sebastian—at least his voice—before Esme’s cryptic messages.

She returned her attention to George. “Listen, can I use you to distract Sebastian?”

“Sebastian?”

“The businessman.”

“Why do you need to distract him?”

“To satisfy him that he’s doing something, so he and my dad leave me alone.”

“Really?” George looked at her doubtfully. “Why aren’t you just sending him away?”

Because she wasn’t ready to do that. Not that she was going to admit it to George—she didn’t understand it herself. “Just help me out.”

“You know I will.”

“Thanks.” She hugged her friend.

“Can I use your shower tonight?” George asked as she walked Ariana to the gate. “I biked over this morning. I don’t think I’ll make it home in time to shower and change before I go out, and you have better shampoo.”

“What’s his name?”

George flushed. “No name. I’m going out with friends.”

“I hope at least one of your friends is cute.” She smiled. “My shower is your shower, always.”

“Thanks.” George’s expression went sly. “Good luck with your businessman.”

“Right.” Shaking her head, she hurried back to her studio to avoid running into Esme again.

*

“You really do have a green thumb.” Belle stretched her legs out from the lawn chair Ariana kept especially for her. “I hate gardening. Dirt is unnatural. I didn’t inherit that gene from Mom.”

“But you got everything else from her.” Ariana snipped the lavender she wanted for a batch of hand cream and tossed it in her basket. She checked her phone and then moved on to trimming the verbena.

“I can’t believe what you’ve done with this garden,” Belle continued. “You’d never know it was up here.”