The Supermodel's Best Friend (A Romantic Comedy) (15 page)

She sat on the edge. “You don’t have to do
that. I usually just throw it over a chair.”

He lingered by the door. “You really should
let me get you something to eat.”

“The thought of all that white food just
makes me feel worse.”

“Fun gimmick they’ve got going on. Makes me
want to order ketchup.”

“Man, I’d kill for a burger, and not a turkey
one.” She lifted her feet up onto the bed and pretended to yawn.
Having him around was uncomfortable. What they’d done that
afternoon was still too fresh in both their minds.

“Mendocino is only a few miles but the bike
wouldn’t be safe for you just yet.”

“No, really. I’m fine. You can go.”

He watched her from the door for a moment,
then turned to leave. “All right.”

“Miles.”

“Lucy?”

She stared, not sure what she could say.
“About this afternoon… ”

“Sorry about that.”

“We just want different things. It wouldn’t
work,” she said.

“All right.”

She couldn’t read his expression. He didn’t
look angry, but she felt like she’d hurt him somehow. “Thanks for
helping me get back to my cabin.”

“You’re welcome. Now get some rest. You have
an iPod or something you want me to bring to you? No TV here in
paradise.”

“I’m fine.”

He opened the door and nodded. “Right. Sorry.
I’ll get out of your way.”

When he was gone, Lucy let out a long breath
and sank back on the pillows.

Her mind swam with images and impressions of
him. The feel of his lips, the smell of his skin, the gentle
patience of his tree top rescue mission.

Did he have to be so nice on top of all that
sexual charisma?

Damn it, it wasn’t enough. She needed the
boring stuff that would last. Long-term compatibility. Mutual
goals.

She couldn’t give up on having a family. All
her life she’d wanted that simple thing: two people living together
in legally binding, semi-permanent domestic harmony.

So she wasn’t so special. So she was a
walking cliché, maybe like his last girlfriend, wanting to catch
any guy before her body gave out.

But growing up in the upstairs corner of a
Berkeley fourplex with her father, without regular meals or a
garden or siblings—hell, or even a goldfish—had left a hole inside
her. Life was lonely and unreliable when your only family was an
antisocial widower with borderline Asperger’s. Dad hid out in his
office and left her to deal with everything else, uninterested in
most of the real world. No grandparents, no cousins, no mother.

It was just common sense to seek out another
person looking for the same things she was.

If only Miles…

She dozed off. When she woke to a knock on
the door, the windows were dark. Disoriented, struggling to shake
off a deliciously hot dream about Miles kissing her, she put her
feet on the floor.

Another knock. Heart beating a little too
fast, she went over to the mirror and patted down her hair before
opening the door.

Alex stood there holding a tray draped with
white linen. “I took the liberty of bringing the restaurant to
you.”

She let him in and tried to hide her
disappointment. Of course it wasn’t Miles; she’d sent him away. “I
forgot. We had a date, didn’t we?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not offended.” He set the
tray on the small circular table near the mini-fridge and pulled
off the white cloth and white ceramic cover with a flourish.
“Tilapia Alfredo. With fresh sourdough and artichoke soup.”

The smell of the fish made her stomach turn
over, but the bread and soup looked all right. “There’s only one
plate. Where’s yours?”

“I hope you don’t mind, but I ate with the
Sterlings. After that little ceremony in the woods they looked like
they’d enjoy some civilized conversation.”

“I thought you liked the zip line.”

“It was incredible. Just inappropriate to the
occasion. Anyone would know Rosalind and Huntley Sterling wouldn’t
appreciate it.”

“You know Huntley’s parents?”

“I made a point of it when I met him in
college. His father is quite the altruist, especially as he enters
his golden years, and I’ve been very lucky to know him.” Alex
pulled out a chair in front of the meal and Lucy felt obligated to
sit in it. “I wasn’t likely to meet many billionaires where I grew
up.”

She picked up her fork. “So few of us
are.”

“Indeed.”

“Please sit. You’re making me nervous.”

Alex laughed and sat on the edge of the bed
near her. “I thought the soup was a little too salty, but it’s all
they had. Cute idea, though, all the white.”

She dipped a corner of bread in the soup and
took a bite. “Cute.”

“I’ve actually developed quite a relationship
with Huntley the Second over the years.” He leaned over and plucked
a slice of sourdough off her plate. “That’s a nickname a few of us
have the pleasure of using. Truth is, I think of him as the father
I never had. Even though he’s on the other side of the country,
that isn’t a problem when you’ve got unlimited funds and technology
at your fingertips.” He chewed off a corner of the bread.

Lucy nodded and tried to eat while he talked.
It was probably good to get something inside her stomach, though
she had to shove the tilapia to one side and focus on not breathing
in the fishy steam smell. Alex went on about the nonprofit work
he’d done over the years and she pushed the food around, trying to
look like she was listening. After a few minutes, though, her mind
drifted to the scene near the tree and she wondered how Fawn was
doing. She hadn’t come back to the cabin.

I wonder if she survived. He’d tell me if
she fell to her death, right?

“You don’t eat much, do you?”

She realized she’d been sitting there staring
off into space. The plate was still buried under the mounds of
white, lumpy rubble that had been her meal. “I’m sorry, I’m just
not hungry.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. Totally makes sense that a
petite woman like yourself wouldn’t need to eat very much.”

“Don’t get the wrong idea. Usually I chow
down like a horse. Just not right now.” She stood up, looked at the
phone to see if the message light was blinking. It wasn’t. “I
wonder if Fawn’s okay. I expected to see her by now.”

Alex picked up another slice of bread. “She
was at the restaurant. I told her I was coming over.” He met her
eyes and held them. “She’s probably happy to be with Huntley,
anyway.”

Lucy sat back down at the table.
She
better be happy, or some pretty blond head is gonna roll.
“Good. I didn’t want her to worry about me.”

“I’m sure she’s not. She told me you’d always
had a fear of heights. In fact, I’m surprised you even climbed up
to make the attempt, knowing you might, you know—”

“Puke or faint?”

He smiled. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be
insensitive. Peer pressure can be tough to resist.”

“You know, Alex,” she said, getting up, “I
think I’ll need to take a raincheck on our date. I’d like to crash
for the night so I can”—she paused—“do the sunrise yoga class in
the morning.”

“Fantastic, I was hoping to see you there.
Tell me about your practice.”

“My what?”

“Yoga. Have you been practicing long?”

“Now and then I drop into a class at the Y.
Nothing fancy.”

“Oh, you really should give yourself more
time to benefit from it. I’ve found yoga to be a great gift,” he
said. “Six times a week is ideal, but I tell myself if five is what
the universe can give me, five is what I’ll take and be grateful
for it.”

She smiled politely and wished he’d get off
her bed. If she changed into her pajamas would he get the hint and
leave?

There was a knock on the door. She went over
and jerked it open, reflecting that staying home was a lot more
relaxing than this rejuvenating, renewing resort.

“Hi,” Miles said.

She stared at the broad figure filling the
doorway. His hair stuck up on one side of his head and his cheeks
were pink. Under one arm was a motorcycle helmet, and the
other—

He held out a paper bag. “I got you a
hamburger. Sorry it’s a little squished, I had to put it in my tank
case.”

After a split second, she took the McDonald’s
bag from him and felt a wave of confusion so acute it made her feel
like keeling over again. The paper was slightly warm and sagged at
the bottom.

“I couldn’t get you a soda on the bike,” he
continued, “which left milk and orange juice, which, given the
color thing, was a no-brainer.” He searched through the pockets of
his leather jacket until he found the little bottle of juice and
held it out to her.

Their eyes met. She felt a funny pressure in
the middle of her chest. “Thanks.” She took the juice, her mind
going blank, not knowing if she should invite him in or—

“What are you doing here, Miles?” Alex was
right behind her in the doorway.

The faint smile on Miles’s face disappeared.
He stood up a little taller. “Alex.”

“He brought me dinner too,” she said, still
surprised.

Alex leaned closer, then laughed.
“McDonald’s? Going all out, eh, buddy? Well, sorry you wasted a
trip, but Lucy’s already eaten. Fresh local fish and vegetables
can’t compete with”—he took the bag out of Lucy’s hands, looked
inside—“a Big Mac, but she didn’t have much appetite anyway.” He
thrust the bag at Miles.

“I kind of asked for it.” Lucy gently
retrieved the bag and touched Miles’s arm for a second.
“Thanks.”

He stepped backward, tripping down the top
step and grabbing the railing for support. “No problem. I went out
for a ride and happened to pass it. It’s probably cold by now.”

“It was nice of you. Really.” Why did she
feel like he’d caught her in a criminal act? She had no reason to
feel guilty. She hadn’t asked him to get her a hamburger, hadn’t
asked him to do anything.

He was already turning away, arm raised in a
wave. “Hope you feel better. See you around.”

She felt silly standing there watching his
back, so she closed the door and turned back to Alex, the bag still
in her hand.

She was ready for Alex to go. Her head ached
again and she didn’t think it was because she’d fainted earlier.
“Alex, would you take that tray back to the restaurant for me? It
was nice of you to bring it here. Very nice.”

The annoyance on Alex’s face flickered only
for an instant before he went and got the tray. “You want me to
take that for you, too? It’ll stink up the cabin.”

Her fingers tightened on the wrinkled paper.
“No,” she said, walking back to the door and pulling it open, “I
don’t mind. He was sweet to get it for me.”

“Worried about his feelings? Tough guy like
that?” Alex walked past her onto the landing, pausing when he was
closest to her. “Well, I’m glad you were able to be honest with
me
.” He leaned over the tray between them and kissed her
lightly on the cheek.

It was fine. Just fine. “I was. You’re
right,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“First thing.”

He walked off with another wave and she
bolted the door after him.

The Big Mac was delicious.

* * *

The Soul of Muir resort had designed many of
their public buildings to resemble those of traditional Native
Americans yurts. The small brown buildings huddled under the
redwoods were shaped like gumdrops and had rough, unpretentious
exteriors, but inside each was decked out with all the modern
amenities of health-seeking rich people everywhere.

Miles wasn’t seeking health so much as
release. After he’d left Lucy, he’d stripped down to a T-shirt and
shorts and found the Cardio Yurt—a miniature 24-Hour Fitness in the
forest.

He’d pushed himself like a bat out of hell on
the treadmill, way past his usual pace, trying to obliterate the
image of Alex and Lucy together in her cabin, trying to forget the
feel of her warm little body in his lap.

It wasn’t working. When Alex strode in after
an hour of endurance training, Miles was dripping wet and
half-crazed with a runner’s high that wasn’t nearly high
enough.

Alex walked over, placing himself next to the
treadmill. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

He thought about slowing his pace and
discarded the idea. Maybe Alex would get the hint he wasn’t in the
mood to chat. “Here I am,” he said between breaths.

“So, you’d rather run in here on a machine
than hike outside through one of the most beautiful places on
earth?”

Miles glanced at him, then back at the status
screen.

“Listen, I wanted to talk to you.”

“Not a good time.” Anger gave him another
wind, and his feet pummeled the belt, every ounce of his two-forty
pounding into the machine like a techno dance hit.

Annoyance flashed over Alex’s face. “Could
you slow that down for a minute? It’ll only take a minute.”

It was already taking too long. Miles stabbed
the green downward-facing arrow button and waited for the belt to
slow to a walking pace. The plantar fasciitis in his left heel was
flaring up and he’d probably be limping tomorrow. Wouldn’t be able
to carry any more swooning maidens. From the looks of him, Alex
spent a lot of time in the gym; no doubt he’d love the opportunity
to show Lucy that Miles wasn’t the only manly man around. Even if
he was a shrimp.

“Thank you,” Alex said.

Miles grabbed his towel and wiped it across
his face while he walked and tried not to stumble off the machine
due to exhaustion. “Well?”

“I think you must have some idea what I want
to talk to you about.”

“If Huntley’s asking for a stripper again,
tell him he shouldn’t have trapped us in rural Mendocino for his
bachelor party.”

“No, Miles, I didn’t want to talk to you
about strippers. Quite the opposite.”