Two Wrongs Make a Right (3 page)

She peered down at the felines. “Hey ladies, want to hear about my night? Brad didn’t ask me to marry him. He’s moving to New York. I know. You tried to tell me. Megan and Raynie too, but I wouldn’t listen.”

Ethel jumped on the couch and rubbed her head against Quinn’s arm. Lucy circled her ankle. Pushing the laptop aside, Quinn brought both mousers onto her lap. “I have a great beginning to my article, and I’ve joined a site to find a suitable mate. What do you think?” Ethel rolled to her back, Lucy nipped at her, and Ethel squealed. “Oh, I should locate a crowd of men, yowl, and roll around on the floor? It works for you, but I’d look like I needed medical attention.”

The cats bailed. Quinn made a quick sweep of the room, put up leftover pastries, and checked her profile again. There could already be rings.
Sure
. There’s a truckload of guys seeking a thirty-five-year-old spinster. Lord, she hated that word, but if she wanted to admit it or not, that’s what she was. At least it sounded nicer than Old Maid.

She clicked on her profile. Whoa! Three diamonds! She settled deeper into the sofa and pulled up the first inquiry. Macho Jokester. His photo confirmed the macho part. Broad shoulders, which she loved. Six feet, one inch. Another plus. Nice smile, too.

Moving down to hobbies.
Anything outdoors.
That might deduct points. She wasn’t an outdoorsy type. Fishing and hiking were okay, but she disliked camping and hated hunting. Killing animals for sport was something she couldn’t tolerate.

Job:
computer programmer
. That explained the outdoor stuff. After staring at a screen all day, the guy needed a change of scenery. Next category.

What I’m looking for in a woman:
Age between 25 and 40. Crazy for rock & roll. Secure career. Enjoys travel. Interested in a long-term relationship.
Wow! This guy shows real promise. Marriage Minded might be the answer.

What I can offer:
Faithfulness. Long, slow kisses, midnight massages, someone to share in cooking and household chores.
She tried to wrap her head around such a perfect match this soon, and chided herself for being reluctant about joining. Twirling the mouse wheel to the last section on the page, she read the entry.

The most private thing I’m willing to admit:
I’m sterile. I just have a fun gun.
Lord Jesus. Biggest deal breaker of all. But if she were interested in a jolly shooter, Macho Jokester filled the bill, but she needed a man who shot live rounds. Delete.

Bachelor number two. This time she’d play it safe, skip the basic information and move right to his reveal.
I’m fantastic at liberating your pleasure wave.
Quinn gagged. Seriously? She wondered if that pervert got any responses. Delete.

Inquiry number three reveal.
I’ve never had sex with a man.
Was he attempting humor? Delete.

She closed the laptop with more force than she’d intended. A hot bath always worked wonders, but she wasn’t sure if it could wash
fun gun, pleasure wave, and sex with a man
from her brain. She decided not to let the first applicants spoil her mood. Once she agreed to join the site, she committed. Besides, the profiles she’d read proved there was plenty of material for her articles. That’s how she needed to approach this. Embrace the good, the bad, and the perverted. They all had a story to tell, and she was the journalist to write them.

Dak Savage knew there was safety in numbers when breaking up with someone. An audience made a woman think twice before causing a scene. Well, most of the time, but not always. Eight years ago, he’d ended up with a glass of wine in his face, before Carmen stormed out of the restaurant. Then there was Bridget. The memory of her on the floor kicking and screaming like a spoiled toddler still made him shiver.

Staring across the table at Shelly, he wondered what kept him from falling in love with her. She was a beautiful girl, but beyond the bedroom, they had nothing in common.

In his twenties, quantity had been more important than quality. But now at thirty-eight—he stopped. The number reminded him the big 4-0 waited around the corner, and he’d never been in love. Not even close. Never had his heart broken. Not a single time. What did that say about him? He didn’t consider himself a playboy, but was he so shallow that he couldn’t invest enough in a relationship to let it develop beyond casual? Had he done that with Shelly?

Her green eyes brightened, and she licked her frosted pink lips. The knowledge of what they were capable of sucked the thoughts from his brain.

“Why don’t we go away next weekend? Back to that little B&B we visited last month.” She tossed her blonde curls for effect and took a deep breath. Full breasts rose from her low cut scarlet dress, as if pumping up a bicycle tire.
Bicycle. Red bicycle. Damn, I loved that ride.
He blinked. Man, if he was imagining his first bike while she was giving him that come-and-get-me look, then he was doing the right thing for sure.

“You’re a beautiful girl, Shel.”

She fluttered her long thick lashes like pine needles swaying in a breeze on the first day of hunting season. “We’ve been dating three months now and…”

“Four.” She wiggled fingers in the air. “It’s been four months.”

“Yeah, and it’s been great, but…”

She sat up straight and threw her hand in front of her body as if directing traffic. “Wait! But what? Are you breaking up with me?”

“C’mon. Admit we’re wrong for each other.” He leaned forward, rested his arms on the table, and searched her expression for possible retaliation. She wasn’t reaching for her water or wine. A good sign, so he started again. “You’re twenty-five. The year you were born I was wearing parachute pants and getting down with Milli Vanilli. Aikman and Irvin still played for the Dallas Cowboys.”

Now she leaned forward and her bosom strained against the low-cut fabric. “I know who Troy Aikman is.”

Dak forced his eyes back to her face. “Only because he does commentary on TV. By the time you were thirteen, you were listening to Jenny from the Block, and I was trying to make it home from a tour in Iraq.”

“I can’t believe you’re dumping me. We’re so good together.”

Dang, he needed to hurry up with it before he changed his mind. The music and candlelight were getting to him, not to mention the promise he saw in her eyes. “I’m sorry. Lately, I feel old when I’m with you. That’s not fair to either of us.”

“You’re not old. You’re mature. Just my type. Sure, you’ll argue I want a daddy figure, but I promise you, I don’t. Men my age are more concerned with their trucks than they are pleasing a woman. Maybe we don’t share the same pop culture, but we’re compatible. You can’t deny that.”

This wouldn’t be easy. Those lips. Those boobs. Steeling his shoulders, he stood his ground. “You’re right. We have fun, but we’re better as friends.”

She started to say something but must have thought better of it because she closed her mouth, then scooted her chair away from the table. Thrusting her chest out, she flourished her hands as if presenting her body as a prize. “Take a good look. Are you willing to give all this up? Be sure. Be very sure, because I won’t be on the market long.”

For a moment, he weakened, but then reminded himself that he’d never have stronger feelings for her. “I understand, and I wish you the best. Still friends?”

“As if. I should have suspected something was up when you asked me to meet you here. Mark my words. There will come a day when you regret this. You know what they say. Hindsight is 50/50.”

Dak smiled. “20/20.”

“What?”

“Hindsight is 20/20, not 50/50.”

“Whatever. I suppose this is where I leave.” She stood and hiked her purse over her shoulder. “See you around,
Savage
.”

As she walked away, he wondered if he’d made the right decision. Every guy in the room turned to follow the sway of her hips. She was right. She’d be off the market before the week ended.

~~*~~

The next evening, Dak palmed a glass of whiskey and relaxed in the chaise. Relief washed over him. Shelly was history, and other than the loss of sex, he was happy. She didn’t understand. To string her along when his only interest was physical would be wrong. He switched his gaze to watch the moon climb above the trees. Ash branches cast familiar shadows across the lake. As far as he was concerned, there wasn’t anywhere more peaceful than the view from his back deck. He loved this place. Having built the log home with his own hands, a deep sense of pride swelled in his chest during these quiet moments.

As head of marketing at Galaxy, he’d promised himself retirement by age fifty with an investment portfolio that reached all the way into his nineties, and that was right on track. If the proposed takeover by Media Corp. went through, he could remain here, or possibly move to L.A. or Chicago. He took a second to consider the two locations. In California, he could take up surfing. He’d always wanted try it. Chicago had just as much to offer. The hustle and bustle looked exhilarating in the movies. The bitter winters would be a change.

He sipped and let the liquor go down slowly, enjoyed the burn, and savored the aftertaste. Nothing like a drink of Balcones to end his day. A good Texas whiskey always filled the bill. He emptied the tumbler, stood, and opened the door to go back inside when the doorbell rang. Glancing at his watch, he wondered who it could be. Not Shelly. He’d never brought her or any woman here. He used his condo in town. Got a helluva deal on it, and when he worked late, it was more convenient to stay there than make the thirty-mile trip home.

He focused through the peep-hole. Simona stood in the one jagged streak of moonlight running across his porch. He turned the knob and pulled the door open. “Hey, Sis. What brings you here?”

She rushed past him, headed toward the kitchen, and spoke over her shoulder. “I couldn’t wait until tomorrow. Did you give Shelly the boot?” Simona opened the pantry, stuck her head deep inside the shelves, and moved things around.

“That’s harsh. I was civil. Gave her my usual dialogue. You’re great, beautiful, and too young for me. I even referred to parachute pants to reinforce the age difference.”

Simona abandoned her search and moved to the freezer. “Do you have ice cream?”

“Yeah. Rocky Road and I also have cookies in the second canister, which I figure is what you were searching for in the pantry. Why don’t you forget the damn diet? You’re not fat, and Ben loves you the way you are.”

She set the carton on the counter, grabbed a dish from the cabinet, and then retrieved a spoon and dipper from the drawer. “Since you and I share the same birthday, I shouldn’t have to remind you we’ll soon be moving into another decade.” She dug out a glob of chocolate and plopped it into the bowl. “He works with supermodels. I can’t compete with them.”

Her brother raised his hand to stop her rant. Once she got started, she could go on forever, talking about nothing. “First, we still have another year before we do that. So don’t rush it. Second, you’re not in a competition. If he’d wanted one of those half-naked, anorexic girls, he’d have married one. He was photographing them long before he met you.”

“I was young then. I had perky breasts, a nice ass, and no stretch marks.” She closed her lips around the spoon, held it there for a few seconds, then took it out and waved it in the air as if conducting an orchestra. “After fifteen years of marriage, I have less boobs, more butt, and they’ve both started their migrations.”

“Hey, I’m uncomfortable discussing your body parts. Besides, you’re being silly. Ben didn’t fall in love with you because of how you look. Take my word, if that’s what men wanted, I would have married a long time ago.”

She returned to the fridge, grabbed a can of whipping cream, gave it a fast shake, and then squirted a creamy mountain on top of her ice cream. Sticking the red lid on the end of her finger, she punctuated the air to make her point. “Then why do you keep dating these Perky-Perfect-Pretties?”

He cocked his head. He’d never seen her so animated, like a junkie needing a fix. A small grin twitched at the corner of her mouth. “Sonovabitch. Oh, you’re good. You’re very good. This little visit isn’t about your insecurity. This is you wanting to set me up with somebody. Isn’t it? Damn. I can’t believe I almost fell for it. Give it up. Whoever you want me to date, the answer is—no.”

Slouching onto a barstool, she lowered her shoulders. “Okay, I admit I have someone in mind, but I am worried Ben will lose interest.”

“Has he done something?” Dak leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. “If he has, I’ll kick his ass.”

She wagged her head. “No, but I helped him with a shoot a few days ago and the model flirted with him right in front of me. I couldn’t help but wonder how often he deals with that. Let’s face it. I could stand to lose a few pounds and look.” She moved her face in close to his, stretched her eyes wide, and pointed to the corners. “Crow’s feet. And see these wrinkles.” She slid her finger back and forth across her upper lip. “God, I’m getting so old. Men don’t even notice me anymore. Case in point, you aren’t interested in women our age.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Seriously? When was the last time you dated a woman older than twenty-five? And you know why? I’ll tell you. You deliberately date girls you’ll never fall in love with. If you considered someone your own age who shares your common interests and generation, you might find the perfect match.”

“Holy crap. You almost had me again. Damn you, Sim. Why are you and Mom hell-bent on me getting married?”

“Main reason: You’re the only one to carry on the Savage name.”

“It’s not my fault big brother had to go and marry a woman with kids, and no equipment to produce more. Carrying on the name shouldn’t be my reason for marrying anyway.”

“I agree, and we all love Shane’s step-children as if they were born into our clan, but it’s important to Mom for you to settle down and have a family.”

He shook his head. Even if she and Mom had his best interest at heart, he couldn’t force something he didn’t feel, and so far, it had never happened. “Right before you got here, I swore off women for a while. With everything going on at work, I don’t have time for a social life, so spread the word.”