by Susan Hatler
Kristen exhaled as if in major relief. “Good, because Ethan’s a treasure. You’re fortunate he’s still available. Has he called you yet?”
“Wait, I’m the fortunate one? What about him?” Watch this magnificent treasure treat me like a friend as well. Maybe my relationship’s demise hadn’t been George. Maybe I’d been shooting off the friend vibe for the past decade and hadn’t realized it.
Kristen’s eyes widened. “Didn’t peg you as insecure, but if it makes you feel better to hear me say it, he’s fortunate you’re free as well. You’re both fortunate. Everybody’s fortunate. Can this massage be any more heavenly?”
Okay, Kristen just lost any points she’d previously gained with me and any muscle strain that had dissipated came back tenfold and settled on my shoulders. No matter how deep the pressure, not one ounce of pain lifted. I gritted my teeth. “For your information, Ethan did call me today. We’re going to lunch tomorrow.”
My heavenly goddess began rubbing my scalp in small circular motions and believe me I needed the stress relief. This friend thing tomorrow night had me wigged. Why had I played Truth or Dare with Chris anyway?
“I want my mom to walk me down the aisle.” Ellen’s tone held quiet resolution. “She’s always been there for me, even when she drives me crazy, and she should be the one to give me to Henry.” Ellen closed her eyes, the stress seeming to ooze away as her therapist rubbed her feet. “I’ll call my dad and tell him tonight.”
Tears formed in my eyes as emotion overtook me. “Your wedding’s going to be so beautiful, Ellen.”
With her eyes closed, she smiled. “Thanks, sweetie.”
As I lay there under my therapist’s expert hands, I thought about Ellen’s relationship with Henry. They’d fallen together so easily, like two halves joining. More lovely than their wedding, they’d share a wonderful marriage.
It didn’t work that way for everyone.
Or, maybe it would. I’d meet Ethan tomorrow and find out.
****
I’d made it to Cafe Mattia fifteen minutes early. Partly because it was right around the corner from work, but mostly because I wanted out of the office. My nerves were on edge all morning so I couldn’t concentrate on debits and credits. Either I was super excited for this lunch date with Ethan or extremely nervous. Probably both.
Even with all the compliments Kristen had spewed about Ethan, I still didn’t know anything about him. Was he shy or outgoing? Short or tall? Mr. Career or Soccer Dad? The possibilities made my head spin.
I gulped more water the courteous waiter had already refilled twice and glanced again toward the ornately carved wooden door at the entrance just as a man walked in. That guy couldn’t be Ethan. Yet the hostess just fingered her list, gestured in my direction, and was now leading him this way!
But it wasn’t conceivable. In all of Kristen’s many praises, she’d left this part out. Hadn’t told me. . . .
My jaw dropped.
Kristen’s friend Ethan was unbelievably gorgeous. Dark hair, dark eyes, and maybe this partly stemmed from my sitting in a renaissance themed restaurant, but his build under his suit had to be a replica of Michaelangelo’s David. Why, oh, why hadn’t I been to the gym in two weeks?
“Gina Hall?” This perfect specimen of a man smiled at me and I’m embarrassed to say my mouth still hung open. “I’m Ethan Harrison.”
“H-Hi..” I somehow managed to tilt my face toward him as he dipped down and planted a soft peck on my cheek.
His smile shined—there’s no other way to describe it—showing a beautiful set of white teeth as he sat in the red velvet-covered chair across from me.
“May I get you anything?” The hostess asked Ethan with an equally stunning smile. With the way she sized him up and down, I was pretty sure she wanted to give him her phone number. Could I blame her?
Instead of getting her digits, Ethan turned to me. “Would you like something, Gina?”
Hot and attentive. Kristen’s stock was skyrocketing back up. “I’d love an iced tea.”
“I’ll have one as well.” When the hostess turned away, he eyed my half-empty glass of water, then checked his watch. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”
“Not at all.” Only my entire life. I straightened and sucked in my belly. Seriously, did this guy work out every day? “Thanks for meeting me on this side of town. Hope you found parking all right.”
He lifted the tall one page menu. “The firm uses a car service, so it’s easy to get around.”
“Nice.” My eyes scanned the various menu choices and stopped on a salad. That should counteract the cinnamon bun I had for breakfast. “One of my friends is getting married this weekend and I need to fit into my bridesmaid dress so I think I’ll order the Spinach Salad.”
“In that case, you may want them to hold the bacon bits.” He grimaced. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to give you food advice—that just slipped out. Obviously you should order whatever you want. I’m a bit of a health nut and I should probably just stop talking while I’m behind.” He looked sheepish. “Forgive me.”
“No worries.” His comment had stung, but he obviously didn’t mean anything by it. First dates were notorious for being awkward. It wasn’t like he’d expect me to have a rock-hard body like his, right? I mean, the thought of giving up my new relationship with snickerdoodles made me shudder. A spinach salad was as far as I was willing to go.
Our waiter picked the perfect moment to bring us our drinks and ask for our orders.
“Insalata di Spinaci.” I bit back a laugh at my hilarious attempt at an Italian accent. No sense omitting the bacon bits when I wanted them. Ethan should know up front what he was getting into.
Instead of realizing I’d been kidding around with my silly accent, he gave me a nice compliment. Then he made eye contact with the waiter. “Vorrei Capellini al Pomodoro per favore.”
His accent sounded flawless although I didn’t really have any way to test its authenticity. Well, other than the one time I’d rented Under the Tuscan Sun.
The waiter didn’t seem as impressed, just quickly replied, “I’ll put the order in right away.”
I placed my napkin in my lap, thinking Ethan was getting more interesting by the minute. “Where did you learn Italian?”
“Living in Italy, actually.” His face lit up at the topic. “In college, I spent my junior year abroad at this great apartment in Rome. I’ve only been back to Italy twice since so it’s been challenging to keep hold of the language.”
Only twice since college? Must be nice. I’d been to Europe, uh, never. My girlfriends and I had spent a long weekend in Cabo once though. That had been pre-George and pre-knowing my drinking limit with margaritas.
As Ethan rattled on about living in Italy—the tale about drinking his cappuccinos standing up instead of sitting (because it costs less, apparently) was quite entertaining, but the history on the ruins at The Roman Forum had my attention drifting—my eyes drifted toward the entrance and my heart stopped.
Chris Bradley had just walked in. And not alone. Standing next to him was the anti-Gina. Whereas I was five-foot, four-inches, she had to be at least five-eight. Loose dark curls framed my face, while her ebony strands were long, thick, and straight. And the way she was gazing up at him, I’m betting she wouldn’t make an issue of him suggesting Truth or Date like I had.
The waiter set a basket of bread on our table and Ethan paused after saying something about Julius Caesar.
“Uh-huh,” I said, then he continued on. Although I tried to focus on his excitement over Caesar’s letter to Cicero, like a magnet my eyes drifted to where Chris and his lunch date had been seated by the street window. No wonder he’d made it clear to me this dinner with his boss was a friend thing. Why wasn’t he taking the brunette beauty though?
“Gina?”
My head whipped back to my lunch date. “I’m sorry. What did you ask me?”
He finished chewing his bite. “If you’d studied much of Caesar.”
“Only the salad. I learned that I don’t like anchovies on it.” I wrinkled my nose, unsure if he’d get my sense of humor.
“I’m sorry.” He chuckled. “My minor was in Italian studies and I tend to talk about Italy’s history more than the average person wants to know. What did you major in?”
“Frat parties.” I smiled and put my hands in my lap as the waiter set our dishes on the table. “And also Accounting.”
“Tell me about that.”
I gave Ethan the run down on my dad’s plastering business and how I’d learned to run his books in high school, which naturally fed my interest in accounting. He seemed engrossed listening to my background, which was sweet since it really wasn’t that extraordinary. The only way this lunch date could improve would be if I could stop glancing at Chris’s table. Suddenly, Chris’s date rose from her chair and strode toward the restroom. When I looked back toward Chris, our gazes locked.
He’d caught me spying on him!
My face heated and I turned back to Ethan as casually as possible. “What was I saying?”
Ethan’s brows came together. “Someone you know?”
“What?” I reached for my water. “Oh, over there? Just a person I work with. Well, used to work with. He’s given notice and . . . yeah.”
“Really.” Ethan looked in Chris’s direction and I concentrated on the ice-cold liquid going down my throat as I drained my glass. “He’s heading over here.”
I choked on the water and covered my mouth.
“Gina. Fancy meeting you here.” Chris’s spry tone sent unwanted vibrations through me. He fixed an intent stare on Ethan. “Hi. Chris Bradley. Gina and I work for the same company.”
“Not for long, I hear.” Ethan accepted Chris’s outstretched hand. “Ethan Harrison.”
If Chris had noticed my date’s icy tone, his face didn’t show it. “Sad but true.” His quick retort made it unclear if he was answering Ethan’s question or commenting on his name. Why had I chosen a restaurant so close to work?
The sudden tension at the table felt thick, but I couldn’t stop myself from peering up at Chris. “I hear you and Cyndi broke up. Who’s the new girl?”
Something odd passed through Chris’s eyes, then the corner of his mouth lifted. “Tina’s the Human Resource Manager for my new company. She’s explaining my benefits over lunch but I’m guessing dating her is not included in the package. I can ask though, if you’re curious.”
Now my cheeks were on fire. “I’m not.”
Chris glanced back at his table. Tina had returned and was watching us with obvious curiosity.
“Well, I’d better get back.” He took a retreating step. “You two enjoy your lunch.”
“We will.” Ethan’s voice was firm. After Chris left, he lifted his fork. “Former flame?”
“Chris?” My eyes bulged as if the thought were ludicrous. Which it was since his gig was playing the field—with everyone but me, that is. “No. Not even close.”
He raised his brows as if surprised. “Interesting. He seemed a bit territorial over you.”
“I don’t think so.” Although Chris had given me an intense look, which made no sense. Those blue eyes were hard to stop thinking about but I managed to finish the last bite of my salad, which did not leave me satisfied. Just like I wasn’t satisfied not knowing what Chris’s look meant. But when Ethan asked for the check I decided not to order anything else. “You’re nice, Ethan. I’m glad Kristen introduced us.”
“Me, too.” He leaned forward, wearing an easy smile. “She met you because you’re both in the same wedding. Is that right?”
“Yes.” My neck went stiff as female laughter echoed from the direction of Chris’s table. “We’re actually roommates now.”
“That’s what I heard.” He reached for the check as soon as the waiter set it down. “How’s living with Kristen?”
“It’s . . . a lesson in compromise.” I laughed, realizing how true that was. “But we’re having a good time. Thanks for lunch.”
“Anytime.” He set a few bills in the check folder, pushed it to the side of the table, then leaned on an elbow. “What about dinner Friday night? If you’re free, that is. I know it’s short notice.”
My insides glowed at the invitation. “Actually, we have the rehearsal dinner Friday night.”
“I see.” He kept his eyes on me as the waiter took the bill. “Saturday night?”
“Is the wedding.” The reason Kristen had introduced us in the first place. Here was my chance. I’d screened him. Charming. Considerate. And apparently eager to see me again. I’d been quite comfortable with him all evening, with the exception of his bacon comment. I bit my lip, but for some reason couldn’t pull the trigger on inviting him to be my date to the wedding. Suddenly, Chris’s intense blue eyes invaded my mind, warming my belly. I frowned. “How about dinner tomorrow night? I know it’s not the weekend, but—”
“I’d love to,” Ethan said. We both smiled at the same time, then rose from the table. He came up beside me, his arm shadowing my lower back as we strolled toward the exit.
Every ounce of me ached to scan Chris’s table to see if he and the gorgeous brunette were indeed discussing business, but I refused to look. It was time for me to make the hard decisions and grow up, which included ignoring the same impulses that had led me wrong last time.
CHAPTER FOUR
Standing in front of the three-way mirror at Blissfully Bridal for my second dress fitting, I stared at the elegant red gown which, this time, was way too big on me. I checked my watch for the umpteenth time. “Please tell me we’re almost finished?”
Ellen pinched some fabric together on my back, which smoothed out a miniscule crease on the bodice of my gown. “Not quite.”
“Out of pins.” The exotic seamstress, Kathia, huffed as she rose from her kneeling position and patted my arm. “I’m gonna be right back. Try not to move, hon. We don’t want you to bleed on the dress.”
“I’ll help.” Ellen hurried after the seamstress, needing to supervise every job related to the wedding—no matter how tiny.
Although, if she’d been supervising my calorie intake the last few months then we wouldn’t be here (having a size ten made into an eight) and I’d be at home getting ready for my friend-date like I was supposed to be. Not that I’d ever give up my new beau for a smaller dress size. Cookie Dough Ice Cream had proved to be a delectable companion.
But I didn’t want Chris to look bad in front of his new boss by making him late. Unfortunately, I couldn’t call to tell him I’d been held up by a super anal bride because I’d inadvertently left my cell in the car.
I tapped my heeled foot and turned to Rach, who was sitting cross-legged in a white satin-covered chair playing with her phone. “How much more can they possibly tweak this dress? It figures Ellen would find someone as finicky as her. I’m beginning to have empathy for pin cushions.”
“You know how Ellen is.” Rach ran her fingers across her cell’s screen. “It has to be perfect with a capital P.”
I frowned. “Who are you texting?”
“Nobody. Just cruising the net looking for coupons.” She pressed an icon on the screen. “After this, Ellen and I are hitting the mall to swimsuit shop for her Hawaiian honeymoon. Should be relatively low-stress, compared to this anyway, if you want to come.”
“Can’t. I have a dinner thing.” Lifting my wrist, I checked the time again. “I’m supposed to be there in twenty minutes. How long does it take to get a few measly pins? I already don’t have time to go home and change let alone touch up my make-up and hair.”
“We’re lucky Kathia squeezed us in this late on a Wednesday night. You know how booked her schedule is.” Then, she paused. “Wait, who are you going out with? A guy?”
More like a hot guy. Who’s sweet, makes me smile when he teases, and who finds all girls datable except me. “Chris Bradley.”
She squealed. “You asked him out like I told you? I’m so proud!”
“It’s not like that at all.” I raked my fingers though my hair, trying to (unsuccessfully) bring the flattened curls to life again. “He and I were playing Truth or Dare and—”
“Sounds sexy.” Her phone went back in her handbag and she gave me her full attention. “When did that happen? And don’t spare even the smallest detail.”
“Stop.” I threw her a look that said gimme-a-break. “You know I’m not interested in Chris.”
“You’re a girl, you’re single, and you have eyes.” Her hands fisted her in lap. “So once again, I ask, why not?”
“Hmmm.” I twisted toward her, jerking back when I felt a poke in my hip. “Let’s see, Alisha, Grace, Carol, Christa, Megan—”
“Are girls he’s dated. In the past. So? You were with George. What did you expect a young, successful, attractive guy to do? Live a celibate life, hoping your very long-term and seeming-to-have-no-end relationship would suddenly come to an end?”
Would that be so wrong?
“Of course not.” I rolled my eyes to show how ludicrous the thought was. “A girlfriend or two would be a different story though. It’d show that he wants relationships, not just the nearest pretty face. Do you want me to waste another decade of my life on Mr. Wrong?”
“With Chris?” She bit her bottom lip. “I don’t know. That’d be a mighty fun decade.”
The image of Chris’s hand popped into my mind. Smooth. Tan. Strong. I shivered. “Here’s a more likely scenario: We date for a month, I fall for him, then I’m crushed when he’s bored and moves on to the next girl?” My heart ached at the mere thought. “You have to agree that is his pattern.”
Rach twisted her mouth to the side. “He was with Cyndi over a month, I think.”
Now she was reaching. “Two months then. Whatever. I want more than he has to offer. You should understand where I’m coming from. Don’t you want to get married and have kids one day?”
“Yes.” She crossed her legs and withdrew her cell again. “Unfortunately, I can’t find a man who won’t sleep with my hairdresser.”
“Ugh.” I groaned. Rachel’s ex was such a louse. “At least George never stooped that low.”
