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Authors: Debbie Macomber

BOOK: 6 Rainier Drive
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Twenty-One

S
ince she'd been on her feet all morning, Teri welcomed a break before her next client showed up. Sitting in her own cubicle chair, with her back to the mirror, she ate hot, salty French fries and sipped a diet soda. One of the other girls had picked up some takeout for lunch, and Teri had ordered her ultimate comfort food. The drink was a concession to calorie cutting.

Rachel finished with her nail client, then joined Teri in the adjacent cubicle. “You've been quiet all morning,” she said. “That's not like you.”

Teri shrugged. She'd been feeling depressed for the last few days and didn't want to talk about it. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about Bobby Polgar since he'd rolled into Cedar Cove in that stretch limo with his driver, James. Apparently Bobby had never learned to drive. He'd come to see
her again, and after that, he'd been calling her every day.

“Is it Bobby Polgar?” Rachel asked, keeping her voice low so as not to attract attention from the other girls or their clients.

Teri nearly dropped her Diet Coke. “How'd you know?”

Rachel's smile was shrewd. “How many years have we worked together?” She didn't wait for a response. “In all that time, I've never seen you this…subdued.”

“He calls me every night.” The crazy part was that Bobby phoned at exactly seven, Pacific Daylight Time, regardless of where he was. Not one minute before or one minute after, always precisely at seven. The man got around, too. Just last week he'd been in China and the week before that he'd been somewhere in Europe. Prague, if she recalled correctly. His home was in New York City, although she doubted he was there even twenty percent of the time. He always seemed to be on the road. She hadn't figured out what he did in all those exotic locations once the chess match was over. When he called, he asked her ordinary questions about her day. To be fair, she asked him pretty much the same kind of thing. Mostly she wanted to know where he was calling from. If he was in his hotel at the time, he'd describe whatever he could see from his
window. He told her about his chess matches in terms that were light years beyond her understanding. She told him about her customers and how many color jobs, perms or haircuts she'd worked on, the conversations she'd had and what she was reading.

“You like him, don't you?” Rachel asked, peeling a banana and taking a bite.

“No!” Teri declared.

“You don't?”

“I've been waiting all my life to fall in love,” Teri muttered, and it was true. Rachel knew about all the losers Teri had been involved with through the years. After she'd graduated from beauty school, she'd been too stupid to know any better. She seemed to learn life's lessons the hard way. Once a guy had emptied her entire bank account, and she'd had no one to blame but herself. She'd actually given him her ATM card and her PIN number! Given it to him because he needed twenty bucks and she had a perm going and couldn't leave. Talk about stupid. Only it wasn't twenty bucks he'd walked away with. Instead he'd taken the maximum amount, which happened to be exactly what she'd had in her savings.

Then there was Ray. She'd made the mistake of letting him move in with her. It was only until he got a few things straightened out financially, he'd
claimed, and then they'd be married. What a joke. Within a week he'd “lost” his job, and she found herself supporting him. It took six months and a sheriff's deputy to get him out of her apartment.

Her history with men was abysmal. Her judgment was bad, just like her mother's. Teri no longer trusted herself when it came to men, and she didn't understand why Bobby Polgar seemed to be so fascinated with her.

“I told him not to phone me again,” she said. She'd come to look forward to those ridiculous phone calls from Bobby, but she had absolutely
nothing
in common with him.

“Has he called since?”

“No.” For two nights Teri had sat by the phone, waiting. Hoping he'd call despite her demand. Wishing he would.

“Oh, Teri,” Rachel said, with a resigned sigh. “You're afraid, aren't you?”

“Damn straight I am!”

“And yet you were the first person who told me I shouldn't let the fact that Nate's father is a congressman keep me from loving Nate.”

“It's different with you,” Teri argued. “You're much smarter than me. You never let a loser move in with you and suck you dry.”

“That doesn't make me smart.”

Teri snorted softly. “It does in my book.” She
didn't mention her mother. Rachel's mother had died when she was young and she'd been raised by an aunt. Teri's mother had married four or five times. Maybe it was six; Teri had lost count. She had a couple of siblings she'd practically raised herself. Her half sister, Christie, was married to a drunk and going through a divorce.

Her half brother, Johnny, was seven years younger and in college, and he was staying there if she had anything to say about it. She helped him with tuition and routinely checked on him to be sure he was studying and his marks were good. That kid was graduating and doing something decent with his life if she had to kill him to make it happen.

“I don't know what Bobby sees in me anyway,” she said, and popped another French fry in her mouth. She barely had a high-school education. Okay, a GED, but she was top of her class in beauty school. In the looks department, she was all right, she supposed. Average attractive. Her hair color changed depending on her mood. Currently it was black and short, but she was thinking about bleaching it.

“I know why Bobby likes you,” Rachel said. “You're a breath of fresh air to him, and you're different from everyone else he knows.” She grinned. “He's probably never met anyone like you.”

“I don't even play chess,” Teri muttered.

“That makes you all the more attractive to him. Chess is his entire life. It's all he knows. You've opened up a whole new world to him. Plus, you're fun and sassy, and he doesn't intimidate you like he does everyone else.”

Again and again Teri had examined her memories of that Saturday in Seattle, when she'd bullied her way in to see Bobby and cut his hair. She'd done crazy stuff before, but this was a new high—or maybe a new low. Even after analyzing the incident to death, Teri still couldn't explain what had driven her to do it. Now she was paying the price and as with every other relationship in her life, the price was too high. She was falling in love with this geek and it wouldn't work. Not in a million years.

“Anytime you want to talk,” Rachel said, standing up, “I'm available. Just remember the advice you gave me about Nate.”

Sharing her problems wasn't something Teri did often. She was closer to Rachel than practically anyone, but talking about Bobby, even with the person she considered her best friend, was difficult.

“Thanks,” she said, dumping the rest of her fries in the garbage. Anyway, there was nothing more to say about Bobby, since she hadn't heard from him in two days. Painful as it was, she'd made her point; he wouldn't call her again.

Nevertheless, Teri was sitting by the phone that
evening, just in case Bobby had a change of heart. At exactly seven, her doorbell rang. Irritated, she grabbed her portable phone and carried it to the door.

There, standing directly in front of her, holding a huge arrangement of bright red roses, was the ever-courteous James. The vase probably weighed more than he did. “Good evening, Miss Teri,” he intoned.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Would you mind opening the door a little wider so I can bring these in?” James asked breathlessly.

Teri unlatched the screen door but she wasn't letting him inside her home. No way. “I'll take them,” she insisted, placing the phone on her small hallway table. She accepted the display from him and instantly regretted it. The vase had to weigh a good fifty pounds. She lugged it over to the coffee table and set it down, sloshing water as she did. “How many roses are there?” she asked, utterly astonished.

“Six dozen.”

Teri groaned. They must've cost a fortune.
Six
dozen roses? No man had ever given her more than a single rose.

“I hope you like chocolates,” he said next. “I have ten pounds from the top six candy companies around the world. Bobby didn't know if you had a preference, so he wanted all the bases covered.”


Ten
pounds of chocolate?” No man had
ever
bought her chocolate. Men generally knew not to give an overweight girlfriend candy.

“They're in the car, along with the perfume.”

“Perfume?” Hands on her hips, Teri studied Bobby's driver. “What's this about?”

“Well, Miss Teri…” James removed his driver's hat and exhaled. “Bobby asked a colleague what women like, and his friend said flowers, candy, perfume and sentimental cards.”

“Where's Bobby?”

“In the car,” James told her. “I'm double-parked outside. Bobby's in there signing the cards.”

“Cards?”

“The sentimental ones. He bought a dozen.”

Sure enough, the stretch limo was parked in a lot reserved for the occupants of the apartment complex. Several of her neighbors had stepped outside to gawk at it. Her neighborhood wasn't accustomed to seeing cars that required uniformed drivers.

Teri marched past her neighbors and opened the passenger door. Without waiting for an invitation, she climbed inside. Yup, there was Bobby Polgar, pen in hand. Boxes of chocolates were stacked beside him, as well as a pile of sealed envelopes and a stack of expensive perfume boxes.


Why
are you here?” she asked, sitting across
from him. She tried to sound stern, and yet she couldn't deny her thrill of happiness.

“You asked me not to phone you again,” he answered, eyes widening behind the dark-rimmed glasses. “I didn't call.”

“But—”

“I would've arrived two days ago but I was in the middle of a match.”

“Bobby.” He made it so difficult to be angry. “Why are you here?” she repeated, at a loss to understand this man.

He didn't speak for a long time, and then he blurted out, “I need a haircut.”

“Anyone qualified to cut hair can do that. You didn't have to fly halfway around the world for me to do it.”

“I didn't want anyone else.”

“Why the roses and the chocolates—and everything else?” She gestured toward the perfume. According to James, Bobby had solicited advice on the gifts women preferred, and been given these generic suggestions. The real question was why he felt he needed to present her with gifts at all.

He shifted uncomfortably as he glanced around the vehicle. He seemed to look everywhere but at her. “I didn't know what I'd done that you'd ask me not to phone. I liked talking to you. I looked forward to it.”

“I did, too,” she reluctantly confessed.

“You did?” He wrinkled his brow. “Then why did you make me stop?”

If he hadn't figured it out, she couldn't explain it. “Experts have calculated that I've committed to memory over a hundred thousand possible chess configurations,” he said. “I look at a chessboard and within seconds I can figure out how any move my opponent makes is going to play out. I know chess, but I don't know women. I want to know you. I like you.”

“I like you, too. In fact, I like you a lot and that frightens me.”

“Why?”

She might as well tell him the truth. “I'm not all that intelligent.”

He shrugged, apparently unconcerned. “I don't think that's true. But even if it is, I'm smart enough for both of us. Did you like the roses?”

“They're beautiful.”

“May I kiss you now?”

She laughed and then realized he was serious. He watched her, anticipating her kiss. He met her eyes and extended his hand to her.

Crouching, she made her way toward him. Because of all the candy and perfume stacked next to him, she had to sit on his lap. She slid her arms
around his neck, then removed his glasses, folded them and slipped them into his pocket. When she'd finished, she gave him an encouraging smile and leaned forward so their lips could meet.

As kisses went, this one was pretty tame. Bobby might know plenty of chess moves, but that was the only kind of move he knew. He sure didn't have a lot of sexual finesse. Well…he might possess enough brains for both of them, but she had enough experience.

Bobby cleared his throat after two follow-up kisses, each lengthier and more intense than the one before.

“That was very nice,” Bobby whispered. He seemed to have difficulty speaking.

“Yes, it was. Are you ready for your haircut?”

He cleared his throat a second time and nodded.

Most of her neighbors had gone back inside when Teri emerged from the limousine. Thank goodness for tinted windows! If any of the stragglers recognized Bobby, they didn't say anything. Bobby gave his driver instructions to return in a couple of hours and accompanied Teri into her small apartment.

Had she known she was going to have company, she would've cleaned the place up a bit. Bobby didn't seem to notice that she wasn't giving Martha Stewart any competition. In fact, he didn't seem to notice anything but her.

“What?” she muttered, uncomfortable with the way his eyes followed her every move.

“There's something different about you,” he commented.

“I dyed my hair black.” She pulled out a kitchen chair and gestured for him to sit. She kept a spare cape in a bottom drawer; she took it out and wrapped it around him, fastening it at the neck.

“Why did you change your hair color?” he asked. “I liked it the way you had it the last time I saw you.”

“I was in a black mood,” she said and went briefly to her bedroom to retrieve scissors and a comb.

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