by Jae
Only silence answered.
“Hayley? Are you still there?”
No answer.
Mara moved the cell phone away from her ear and stared at the dark display. “Shit! You stupid piece of technology!” She slapped the phone’s leather cover closed with more force than necessary and stuffed it into her backpack along with her notepad.
If she ever included a romantic subplot in one of her novels and kept the two potential lovers apart by having the goddamn phone die, her readers would accuse her of relying on contrived coincidences.
The woman next to her got up, scraping the chair legs across the floor.
Yeah. Great. Show’s over, so now you can leave. No happy ending today. Mara got up too. No reason to stay. She wouldn’t get any work done now anyway. Not after this. She would go home and call Hayley back…if she didn’t chicken out. Hayley might not even pick up if she thought Mara had hung up on her.
Instead of walking toward the exit, the woman from the neighboring table stepped up to Mara and held out her phone. “Here. Use mine.”
“What?” Mara stared at her.
A flush crept up the woman’s neck. She shuffled her feet. “Sorry. I couldn’t help overhearing part of your conversation. You should call him back before he thinks you’re not interested.”
“Her,” Mara said automatically.
The stranger shrugged. “Then call her back.” She nodded down at the phone on her outstretched hand.
Mara stared back and forth between the woman’s face and the phone for a moment longer before hastily reaching for the device. “Thank you.”
Usually, she relied on speed dial, but there were two phone numbers she knew by heart—the pizza delivery service in her neighborhood and Hayley’s cell.
Quickly, she typed in the number and lifted the phone to her ear.
It rang for quite a while.
Just when Mara thought Hayley’s voicemail would pick up, that familiar sexy voice came through the line.
“Yes?” Hayley sounded cautious.
“It’s me…Mara. Sorry, my battery died. Did you…um…hear what I said before the damn thing gave up the ghost?”
“No. The last thing I heard you say was no.” For a few moments, no sound at all filtered through the phone, as if Hayley had even stopped breathing. “What else did you say?”
Mara smiled. “Well, since you want me to write a romantic suspense, I’ll need a little more help with the book than I usually do.”
“Of course. What kind of help do you need?” Still that cautious tone. “Brainstorming murder methods, as you said?”
“No. I can handle those. But I might need a little help researching the romantic part of the novel.” Mara clutched the cell phone so tightly that her knuckles blanched, and the woman next to her gave her an alarmed look.
“Oh,” Hayley said after a while. “Sure. I mean, that’s what we editors are there for, right? To help with whatever you need.”
Mara was about to agree. It was easier to keep joking and hide behind a lighthearted tone and their familiar roles. But then she paused. Unlike her manuscripts, life couldn’t be revised afterward if you didn’t get it right the first time. And she wanted to get this right more than she’d wanted anything in a very long time. “Hayley?”
“Yes?”
“I’m not talking to the editor.”
“I know. It wasn’t the editor who agreed to help you with the romantic part of your novel.”
Mara stood still for a moment, then hopped up and down like a preschooler who’d just been promised a visit to the zoo. “So you’ll have coffee with me?”
“Like I said: it’s a date.”
A wave of giddiness swept over Mara, and now she could no longer resist teasing Hayley just the tiniest bit. “Shouldn’t it be ‘as I said’?”
“Smartass.”
Yes, but I’m your smartass, Mara wanted to answer, but it was a little too soon for that. If she was patient, she might be able to say it one day.
After all, they were an award-winning writer and an experienced editor. Between them, they should be able to create the perfect happy ending.
###
Blind Date at the Booklover’s Lair
When the doorbell rang, Tricia was in the middle of a hot make-out session.
Admittedly, it was a fictional make-out session, but a hot one nonetheless. Grumbling, she saved what she had written that afternoon and lifted Jasmine—her twenty-pound Maine Coon mix—off her lap.
The cat let out a hiss of protest, but Tricia ignored it as she went to open the door.
Her best friend stood in the doorway and regarded her with a scowl. “I knew it,” Chi Lo said instead of a greeting.
“Um, knew what?”
“That you’d still be in your sweatpants and that ratty T-shirt.”
Tricia smoothed her palm over her I’m a romance writer, what’s your superpower? T-shirt. “So what? It’s my work uniform.”
“Lesbians might like chicks in uniforms, but not this kind.” Chi Lo poked her finger through a hole in the sleeve of Tricia’s T-shirt.
Tricia squirmed away and shrugged. “Well, except for me, there are no lesbians in my living room.”
“And that’s exactly why I’m here.” Chi Lo pushed past her into the house and nearly stumbled over Jasmine on her way to the living room. She made a beeline to the recliner, Tricia’s favorite writing spot, and shut the lid of the laptop with a resounding click.
“Hey! I wasn’t done with that scene!”
“Yes, you are. If you don’t hurry up, you’ll be late for your date.”
“Date?” Tricia echoed. She might have her head in the clouds sometimes, but she would have known if she had a date.
Chi Lo pulled one of the thick dictionaries off Tricia’s bookshelf and pretended to look it up. “Date: a meeting of two people who have a romantic interest in each other.”
“Thanks a lot. I know what a date is.”
“Could have fooled me,” Chi Lo mumbled. She got comfortable in the recliner, and Jasmine, the traitor, hopped up on her lap. “You haven’t been on a date since you and Liv broke up, and that was over a year ago.”
Tricia gritted her teeth at the mention of her ex. “I went on a date last month, and you know how it ended.”
“So she wasn’t a big reader. Oh, the horror of it all.”
Tricia dropped down onto the couch and threw a pillow at her, which Chi Lo promptly lopped back.
“Not a big reader?” Tricia repeated. “She hadn’t picked up a book since high school. Hell, she thought J.K. Rowling was a horror writer—a male horror writer! I think she confused her with Stephen King or something.”
“Yeah, well, maybe she had other qualities…which you would have discovered if you had gone on a second date with her.”
“Oh, you mean the ability to send text messages and play Candy Crush during dinner? I didn’t need a second date to discover that skill.”
Chi Lo held out her hands, palms out. “Okay, okay. Maybe she wasn’t the right woman for you. But now it’s time to try again and give someone else a chance.”
“Says who?”
“Says your wise best friend. You can’t keep hiding in your fictional worlds. There are real women out there, you know?” Chi Lo pointed at the driveway as if those women were lining up there.
“Yeah, but unlike the women out there, my fictional women never cheat, are never hung up on their exes, and they never have the emotional maturity of a toddler.”
Chi Lo regarded her with a slow shake of her head. “How can someone who writes sappy romances for a living have such a jaded view of love and women?”
“I’m not jaded, and my books aren’t sappy.” Tricia resisted the urge to clutch her laptop to her chest in a defensive gesture.
“If you think your novels are oh-so-realistic, why not give this date a chance?”
“Because…because…well, because I create my characters with care, pairing them with the
ir perfect matches, while your track record isn’t the best when it comes to picking dates for me.”
“This one is different,” Chi Lo said.
Tricia snorted. “That’s what you said when you set me up with the Candy Crush woman…and with Liv.”
“Yeah, but this one really is. Wait till you hear where she wants to meet you.”
“The bar or some restaurant?”
“Nope and nope.”
“The park?” That wouldn’t be so bad. At least they could go their separate ways without having to sit through an awkward dinner if they didn’t hit it off.
“No.”
A smile crept onto Tricia’s face. “The ice-cream parlor?”
“Better.”
“Better than the ice-cream parlor?” Tricia gave her an incredulous look that made Chi Lo laugh.
“Well, you were the one who said your ideal date would take place in a bookstore, weren’t you?”
“This mystery woman wants to meet in a bookstore?”
Chi Lo nodded. “And not just any bookstore. She suggested The Booklover’s Lair, your favorite hangout. If that’s not a match made in heaven, I don’t know what is.”
Hmm. Tricia rubbed her chin. She had to admit that her curiosity was piqued. How bad could a woman who suggested a bookstore for their first date be? “Tell me more about her.”
“So you’ll meet her?” Chi Lo bounced up and down on the recliner, nearly catapulting the cat off her lap.
With a growl, Jasmine stalked off in search of a quieter place for a nap.
“I didn’t say that. But if I did, what else could you tell me about my hypothetical date?”
“Why not just go and find out yourself? That’s half the fun of a blind date.”
“For you, maybe. I’m the type who reads the ending of a book before I buy it, remember?”
Chi Lo shuddered. “Oh yeah. I forgot. You’re one of those people.”
“So?”
“I don’t know her that well. She’s friends with Sarah, but I’ve only met her once or twice. She’s pretty cute, about our age, and taller than me.”
Tricia laughed and eyed her friend’s slender five-foot-one frame. “Now there’s a helpful description. Everyone’s taller than you.”
Chi Lo stuck her tongue out at her.
“So, does mystery woman have a name?” Tricia asked.
“Jenny.”
“That’s all I’m getting? How am I supposed to find her?”
“Easy,” Chi Lo said. “You’ll meet in the LGBT section of The Booklover’s Lair. She’ll be holding Karin Kallmaker’s latest novel.”
Tricia arched her brows. “Why not one of mine?”
“Because it’s a date, not a promotional opportunity. By the way, Sarah also texted you Jenny’s cell number, just in case you can’t find each other. Now get dressed, or you’ll be late.”
“Why? When am I meeting her?”
“At five.”
“Today? Are you crazy?” Tricia picked up her wristwatch from the coffee table and glanced at it. “That’s in an hour!”
Chi Lo shrugged. “Less time for you to back out. Now chop-chop.”
“I swear my next novel will be a murder mystery with a character named Chi Lo,” Tricia said as she moved toward her bedroom. “She’ll die a slow, horrible death. Electrocution, torture, fire ants, or maybe a combination of all three.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Chi Lo called after her. “As long as she can die after your blind date, I don’t care.”
Blind date. Tricia shook her head and stared at herself in the mirror that hung in the hall. Apparently, she was really doing this—going on a blind date.
“Oh, hell no!” Chi Lo said when Tricia emerged from her bedroom. “You’re not wearing that.”
Tricia glanced down at her favorite pair of jeans and a T-shirt that was free of holes and geeky writer sayings. “What’s wrong with this?”
“Ever heard of dress to impress?” Chi Lo pushed her back toward the bedroom. “Pretend you’re one of the characters in your books, about to go out on a date. What would they be wearing?”
“My characters are spies, millionaires, CEOs, and actresses, not writers with a very modest income. But if I ever create an author character, she will dress exactly like this.” She gestured at her comfortable clothes.
“God, you’re so stubborn. No wonder you’re single.” Chi Lo slid the closet door open. “At least wear a button-down or a polo. Something that lets your date know you give a shit.”
Tricia bit back a sarcastic reply and pulled a dark blue polo shirt from a hanger. “Okay, okay.” She took off her T-shirt, threw it onto the bed, and put on the polo before striking a pose. “Happy now?”
“Getting there.” Chi Lo reached out and undid the button on the polo shirt. “Come on. I’m driving you.”
“No, you’re not. I have a perfectly good car.” On the way out the door, Tricia ran her hands through her short hair, slid her wallet into her back pocket, and picked up her keys from the hall table.
Chi Lo followed her out. “If I find out you chickened out, I’ll disinherit you.”
“So I won’t get any of the riches you don’t own?” A glare was aimed her way, so she quickly added, “I promise to go to The Booklover’s Lair.” She could hide behind a bookshelf and take a look at this Jenny first. If anything about her triggered her date-from-hell alert, she could browse the store for a while and then drive back home.
“That’s not good enough,” Chi Lo said. “Promise that you’ll meet Jenny.”
Damn. Her friend knew her too well. Tricia sighed. “All right. I’ll meet her.”
Tricia pulled open the door to The Booklover’s Lair, raised her nose into the air, and sniffed appreciatively. There was nothing like the smell of books, especially when it mingled with the aroma of coffee from the coffee shop in the back of the store.
She strode past the bargain tables and the new-releases shelf, not allowing herself to stop and browse. When she was around books, she easily lost track of time, and Chi Lo would kill her if she was late for her date.
Channeling Jade, the spy character in her latest lesbian thriller, she crept up to the paranormal romance shelf, which was right next to the LGBT section. She pulled a random book from the shelf, hid her face behind it, and peered over the edge of the novel.
Only one customer was browsing the LGBT aisle.
The woman was indeed taller than Chi Lo, but probably not by much. Faded jeans clung to her butt and thighs, and the hoodie she wore couldn’t hide her shapely curves.
A hoodie? Clearly, she hadn’t dressed up for their date either. Maybe she’d been roped into it too.
The woman’s dark brown hair was swept up into a loose bun on top of her head, held in place by a pencil. A few tendrils had escaped, curling down on either side of her face. A pair of black-rimmed glasses completed the sexy-librarian look.
She held a stack of novels balanced against her chest with one hand, while running the index finger of her other hand over the spines of the shelved books, almost like a caress.
Tricia stood and watched her, spell-bound.
Her date pulled a book off the shelf, flipped it over to read the backcover description, and then opened it to the very last page.
Ha! She’s reading the ending! Maybe, just maybe, they would hit it off.
The woman put the book back on the shelf, picked up another, and repeated the process, her face so focused as if world peace depended on her making the right decision. Finally, she added another novel to her stack.
Tricia craned her neck to see which one it was.
She would know that cover anywhere: it was one of hers—or, rather, of her alter ego, Trish Hoffman. And if she wasn’t mistaken, the one beneath it was Karin Kallmaker’s latest, their item of identification.
The stranger was definitely Jenny, her blind date.
Tricia gave herself a mental shake. If she waited much longer, Jenny would leave, thinking she had stood
her up. She slid the book she was hiding behind back onto the shelf and walked over to the LGBT section. If only she had the confidence of her characters. Their palms never sweated when they approached a woman.
Softly, she cleared her throat. “Um, excuse me? Are you Jenny?”
The woman turned and stared at her through those sexy librarian glasses. Her eyes were the color of dark chocolate, and they were squinting at Tricia. “Jennifer,” she said.
Tricia held out her hand. “Hi. I’m Tricia.”
Jennifer continued to stare at her.
Maybe she had gotten even less information about who her blind date would be. “Sarah’s friend,” Tricia added.
“Oh.” Finally, Jennifer slid her hand into Tricia’s. Her fingers were soft, but her handshake was firm. “I know you from somewhere. Have we met at one of Sarah’s parties?”
Tricia was sure she would remember a woman like her, but if she said that, it would sound like a cheap line, so she shrugged. “Possibly.”
Silence stretched between them for a moment.
Come on. You’re a writer. Say something witty and charming. “Uh, want to grab a coffee?” She pointed at the coffee shop in the rear of the store. Okay, it was neither witty nor charming, but she supposed it would do.
“Um…” Jennifer’s gaze went from Tricia’s face to her stack of books and back.
For a second, Tricia thought she would be dumped for a bunch of lesbian romances, but then Jennifer nodded.
“Why not? Let me pay for my books first.” She glanced toward the coffee shop section, which was pretty busy, the tables and chairs filling up quickly. “Why don’t you try to grab us a table? I’ll get our drinks once I’m done.”
A woman with initiative. Tricia liked that. “Sounds like a plan, thanks.”
“What do you want?” Jennifer asked.
“Why don’t you surprise me?” Tricia made up a preferred beverage for each of her characters, and she firmly believed that you could tell a lot about a person by the kind of beverage they chose. She called it the latte oracle.
“All right.” Her stack of books in a secure grip, Jennifer marched toward the checkout counter.
