Saved by the Salsa

by Barbara Barrett

  Bless her needy, bragging little heart. Even his tiny male brain could understand her one-page summary. It didn’t escape him she’d withheld this part until she was sure he’d at least opened her magnum opus before she handed over the bottom line. His job wasn’t good enough for her—she should be CEO. “Why yes, I think this list will help me formulate my plans. Thanks.”

  When he didn’t add anything further, she backed out of the room. Maybe he should be thankful Lacey and Jean still considered themselves on two different teams. If those two ever got together and compared notes, he’d be out of a job.

  He was still contemplating how to incorporate Jean’s list into a design concept when there was a light tapping at his door and Jean reentered. Hah, this time she knocked. “I’m going to be leaving shortly for an early lunch.” She placed a cardboard mailer on his desk. “This came for you a little while ago.”

  Curious, Jack ripped it open after she’d left.

  Son: Dad and I have met the most marvelous couple from Kuala Lumpur. They were here on holiday and will soon be returning home. They invited us to join them. Imagine! We’ve never seen that part of the world. We’re really looking forward to it. It means, though, we won’t be back for another month. By now, you should be quite familiar with the routine of checking out the old homestead to assure all is well, so this shouldn’t be any great task for you. Take care. See you soon. Mom.

  Jack stared at the letter a moment longer, then ripped it up and threw both it and the mailing folder in his wastebasket. He wondered if he’d ever receive a registered letter or phone call from his parents inviting him to join them. Better yet, telling him how much they missed him.

  Chapter Ten

  “Okay, Dalton, time to come clean.” Lacey froze in her tracks, her eyes riveted on Jack and Cam standing in the middle of Jack’s office, hands joined.

  Cam turned to Jack, raising his eyes in response to Lacey’s statement. Then he seemed to realize what she was staring at and quickly released his grip.

  Did the woman have radar? Even though he’d shooed her away just an hour ago, he was glad she’d returned. “Come in, Lacey. Close the door.”

  She switched her attention to Cam. “Hi, Cam. I didn’t know you were in here. Sorry to interrupt. Jack’s been doing some research I wanted to hear about.”

  Thank God. She’d read the situation correctly and adlibbed a different reason for her visit. And once he got rid of Cam, he was about to snow her with his newfound boomer insights. Okay, Jean’s insights.

  Cam gave her a knowing smile. “So, our boy’s doing research these days? Sounds like you’ve made quite an impression on him.”

  I’ll say.

  “Oh. Right.”

  “Since you’re here, why not give us a hand? To replace the one I just removed from Cam’s.” Jack put as much distance between himself and his recent student as he could in the confined quarters of his office.

  She lifted an eyebrow. “What were you doing? It looked like a two-person version of Follow the Leader.”

  “Good description,” Jack said. “I think you’ve identified our problem. Cam’s agreed to join our dance class so we’ll have more men. I was catching him up on the routine we taught the class last night.”

  Her frown relaxed. “Welcome to the club, Cam.” She beamed. “So, you need a partner?”

  “One of the feminine variety,” Jack added. “We had a case of two men trying to lead. You’re just what we needed.”

  “Back to that following thing again? Thanks,” but she was smiling as she said it. “Since for the moment I’m the best game in town, looks like I’m it.” She approached Cam and reached for his hand, placing her left hand on his shoulder. Lifting her chin, she flashed her baby blues his direction. “Ready?”

  “Uh, okay. I guess,” responded a surprised Cam.

  “You’ll be a natural,” she said, her smile broad and reassuring.

  They spent the next fifteen minutes going through the drill, Jack talking them through the steps first, and Lacey talking them through as they went. Even though Cam tripped up every so often, including stepping on Lacey’s instep twice, she retained a fixed smile, each time responding, “You’re doing fine. The main thing is to keep the time and remember the steps.” Just that morning she’d been comparing notes with Jack about whose feet hurt more.

  “I don’t know, Lacey,” Cam complained. “I’m messing up more than I’m getting it.”

  She patted his shoulder where her left hand lodged. “You’re doing better than you think. It takes a while to catch on to this beat.”

  “What do you think, Jack? Have I got it down well enough to survive?” Cam called.

  “Huh, oh, right.” He’d been admiring Lacey’s swishing derriere. Even with a jacket covering her slacks, the swaying motion of her hips hypnotized him. He coughed, attempting to get his breathing back to normal.

  When Cam’s hand strayed an inch or so beneath her waist, Jack quickly announced, “I think you’ve got it,” in the style of Professor Henry Higgins to Eliza Doolittle.

  “You think?” Cam couldn’t contain his relief. But his eyes glowed excitedly.

  “Definitely,” Lacey added. “Keep practicing and you’ll do fine next week.”

  Standing behind Cam, Jack closed his eyes and said a silent prayer Lacey hadn’t promised Cam the moon while mouthing his thanks to his dancing partner. In fact, she’d done a credible job of coaxing and convincing Cam he was ready to join the rest of the class despite his obvious lack of rhythm. She seemed to have picked up on his own glib turn of phrase.

  “I’m outta here, then. Thanks, guys,” Cam beamed, his hand already on the doorknob. “By the way, let’s keep this our little secret, okay? Especially from my wife.”

  “No problem,” they promised.

  “Oh, and about Project Veronica?” Cam delayed. “The client…did I mention he’s originally from this area? Which is why he wants to build here. Another factotum for your research folder. He’s moved the due date for your design concept up a week.” He was out of there before either reacted, as if a magician’s wand had zapped him from the room.

  “Did I hear what I think I heard?” an incredulous Lacey asked Jack. “The deadline’s been moved up?”

  “So it would seem.”

  He kept his expression impassive as he doodled on a notepad. The news had knocked the floor out from under him, but he didn’t want to alarm her. He’d worry enough for both of them.

  She fell into the chair next to his desk and rubbed her temples. “I feel a headache coming on. Nausea too.”

  Jack settled behind his desk. “Must be catching. My stomach’s doing somersaults.”

  “Do you believe our boss? He let us give him a short course on Salsa, then he dropped this little bomb.” She leaned back and cradled her head against the back of the chair. “This day just keeps getting better.”

  “What are we going to do about it?”

  Lacey twiddled her fingers on the armrest then switched to her hair instead, twisting one strand back and forth over and over. “Dance lessons aren’t enough,” she replied finally. “They’re a great idea, but we have six days ’til the next class, and we just lost seven days of our planning time. We’ve got to go into warp speed studying boomers. Got any ideas?”

  He could share Jean’s ideas with her, but something told him they weren’t enough, just a bunch of unrelated thoughts. They needed some way to unify them into a concept.

  “I really thought I had something when I input my notes from last night,” she said. “It was good stuff, but once I finished and read back what I’d written, I realized I had filled in some of the detail we need, but it wasn’t the foundation. You know what I mean?”

  “You put your finger on it the day we received this assignment when you asked Cam about theme.” Who would’ve thought back then he’d be admitting as much to her now?

  “You’re right!” In her exuberance, she touched his arm. Bolts of sensation shot up his
arm. He glanced up, saw the same recognition of feeling in her eyes as must have been in his. She removed her hand as fast as she’d placed it. “Theme to me means something broader than blueprints and layouts. It’s the essence of this collection of buildings we’ll be planning, what ties them together. Eluding us right now, but we’ll know it when we see it.”

  “Nothing we haven’t heard in countless college lectures and professional seminars, but for once it makes sense in the context of this project. You done good, kid.” He reached out to pat her arm, remembered the surprise of their last contact, and withdrew his hand.

  “Thanks, but now we’re back to Square One. Where can we observe boomers?”

  “What do people over fifty-five do? Where do they go?”

  “Not everyone over fifty-five. Just those in their mid-sixties and younger, if we’re going to stick with the demographic definition,” she reminded him.

  “Right, must be technically correct. So?”

  “Let’s not waste time. What’s happening today? Right now, at two o’clock in the afternoon. Restaurants?”

  He wrinkled his nose. “Not this time of day. From what I hear, old timers eat around five.”

  “A grocery store?”

  “A thought, but we want to be able to observe as well as overhear them. People are too scattered in a grocery store.”

  Her fingers went to her hair again, twisted a strand. Just for a moment, he pictured his own fingers in those spun-silk tresses. God, what he wouldn’t give to switch places with her hand right now.

  “Too bad there isn’t an AARP meeting in session,” he said. “At least we’d know our target group would be there. Why not one of those super discount stores? Now there’s an idea.”

  “Same problem as a grocery store,” she reminded him. “But what about a collection of stores?”

  “Huh?”

  “The mall.”

  “You want to go shopping?”

  She returned a broad smile. “Now you’re talking. To think, it was your idea.” She rose and made for the door. “Meet you in ten at the front door. You drive.”

  “Hey, wait. I was kidding.”

  Though she was already out the door, she stuck her head back in. “I wasn’t.”

  ****

  The mall on the southwest side of the metro was the area’s most recent sprawling retail complex. They parked near the movie theatre on one end.

  “Confess, we’re here because you need to pick up a blouse or pair of shoes,” Jack speculated as they made their way to the nearest entrance.

  “Would it be so horrible if I did?” He wasn’t correct, but wouldn’t it be fun to drag him into one of the ladies’ underwear stores on the pretext of buying a new bra? Never mind. Knowing Jack’s reputation with the ladies, he was probably already more than familiar with those places. “My blood sugar’s low. I feel like an ice cream cone.” She made a sharp turn to the left and headed toward a place that specialized in the delicacy.

  Jack joined her, treating her to a single dip of chocolate chip mint while he ordered rocky road. Cones in hand, they seated themselves in the black wrought iron tables flanking the main eating area in the food court and spent the next few minutes licking their treats before they dripped down their hands. At length, Jack said, “We could’ve gone to several restaurants, if ice cream was what you were after.”

  “Shh. I’m trying to hear what the couple over there is arguing about.”

  “What couple?” he whispered.

  “Behind me, on the left. They look to be about sixty.”

  His brow furrowed. “How do you know?”

  “His hair’s totally white, hers is died dark brown, but short, so she doesn’t have to mess with it much. Now, shush, I can’t hear.”

  “What did the doctor say, Marty?”

  “Same old, same old. Stop eating, drinking, smoking. In other words, might as well pick out my coffin now, because life ain’t gonna be worth livin’ once I stop.”

  “You’re exaggerating. Stop smoking, yes. Drinking was probably more like cut back. And eating was eat better. Don’t you want to live longer?”

  “Told ya, not if I have to give up all my pleasures.”

  “I thought I was your pleasure.”

  “Sure ya are, when it fits your schedule. Before Letterman, not during the weather, only if I shower first.”

  “Not so difficult.”

  “Stop eavesdropping,” Jack chided, sotto voce. “They’re getting into really personal stuff.”

  “It’s the personal stuff we’re here to investigate.”

  “You’re getting something from their conversation?”

  “Well, they still have sex.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t know you were into kinky stuff.”

  “Sex after sixty is not kinky. At least, it doesn’t have to be. It’s just, uh, reassuring to discover they still, uh, indulge.”

  He stared at her with an expression she hadn’t seen from him before. Disbelief. But in a flash, his eyes softened. “I forgot. You don’t know many seniors.”

  “What about you?”

  “You mean my parents? Let’s not go there. The thought of those two doing it,” he shivered, and not from the ice cream he was consuming, “almost makes me want to consider celibacy.” He gave her a lascivious grin. “But not quite. Actually, given their globetrotting lifestyle, it wouldn’t surprise me a bit to learn how much they’re into it.”

  His admission halted further discussion. They turned their attention to finishing their cones.

  Why had she even mentioned the subject? She felt a bit like the kid who, when threatened with getting her mouth washed out with soap for repeating swear words, couldn’t wait to go off on her own and swear up a storm. Only in her case, the subject was sex. The ice cream hadn’t frozen her brain, it softened it. She wanted Jack Dalton, but better sense told her to pass on this particular treat. At least until the project was over. So instead, what was she doing? Indulging her sweet tooth and talking about the very thing she’d sworn off.

  This line of thought needed to stop. Now. Finish up the cone, Lacey, and get out of here.

  Jack did nothing to help get her mind off the forbidden fruit as he relished his cone, taking long, leisurely licks. She had to swallow, twice, each time he retracted his tongue, coated with melted chocolate cream.

  When he glanced up, he seemed to note her interest in his ice cream consumption, and a smoky haze curtained his eyes. Was he reading her thoughts? A part of her wished he could.

  Before she realized what was happening, he reached across the small table to touch her lips. His fingertips caressed the side of her mouth for less than a second, but her sensory bank recorded the touch forever.

  “You’ve got a few pieces of chocolate there. Unless you’re saving them for a snack later?” His eyes sparkled with humor and glowed with heat at the same time.

  “Uh. No. Didn’t realize. Thanks.” Could she sound any more awkward?

  He withdrew his hand. “Let’s check out some other parts of the mall.”

  She swallowed the last bite of cone, swiped a napkin across her mouth, just in case he missed a stray particle and rose along with him. “Where to next?”

  They strolled down the corridor connecting the food court/theatre area to the main leg of the mall, no particular destination in mind.

  Jack gestured toward an open bench down on the main level. “We could park ourselves in the central court and people watch.”

  “Or, we could pick a direction and see what there is to see. There are some children’s stores off to the right on the lower level. The grandparent thing, remember? Maybe we’ll find our prey there.”

  They passed several high-end clothing stores. “Not there. Those are the territory of teens with money and young professionals. How about the sporting goods store? My research said boomers were really into recreational sports. Fishing, golf, tennis, you know?” he suggested.

  On their way to the sporting goo
ds store, they passed the children’s play center. The indoor forest-themed playground featured a myriad of “climb on” toys. A small army of preschool age and younger children swarmed over each plaything, guarded by numerous moms, dad, aunts, uncles, older siblings, nannies…and grandparents. Aha! She’d proved her theory.

  Without realizing she was going to do so, Lacey stopped, mesmerized by the scene before her. One little girl in particular caught her attention. She must have been around three, because her mobility was good, but her words still sounded somewhat infantile. She was dressed in a one-piece pink and white striped knit playsuit. Shoes off—all the kids had to shed their shoes on the sidelines to protect the toys—her tiny feet were tucked into pink and white polka dot ankle socks.

  “Lacey? See someone you know?” Jack asked, having retraced his steps to where she stood.

  “Huh? Uh, no. Just…watching.”

  “Those kids? What’s so intriguing about a bunch of little rug rats?”

  She knew this playground was here. She gravitated toward it every time she came to the mall. How could she explain this was as close as she’d allow herself to get to what she couldn’t, wouldn’t, allow herself to have? “Rug rats? Term of endearment or a dig?”

  “Came to mind first. Why?”

  “No reason.” She resumed her trek to the sports nuts mecca, nodding for him to follow.

  “Something you want to talk about?” he asked as he joined her, apparently not ready to drop the subject.

  Shouldn’t have paused at the play area. Didn’t want to get into this can of worms. “No. Children fascinate me. I played with other kids when I was younger, but since I’ve become an adult, I’m not around them very much. I thought my brother and Celia would get married someday and give me nieces and nephews, but as you know, not going to happen now.”

  He halted, gripped her arm. “You’re not blaming me, I hope. For breaking them up?”

  Uh-oh. She’d wandered into a minefield with this subject. Since she was supposed to believe his pretend relationship with Celia was real, it wasn’t prudent to mention anything about what might have been between Celia and Brian. “No, of course not. My brother made a poor decision when he broke things off with her. I’m glad she has you to help her, uh, regain her self-confidence.”