She thought of her conversation with her aunt. There was something about living in a place where you had a history, of being near those you loved. But there was also much to be said for striking out and making your mark in the world.
She could strike out as far as New York, especially if she was doing it with Adam. He looked absolutely delicious tonight in that black turtleneck. His blue eyes appeared translucent in the candlelight. “I can live anywhere. Who cares where you live as long as you’re with the person you love?”
He reached across the table and took her hand. “That’s my girl. You’ll love it there. Trust me.”
The waiter returned with their wine and Adam sampled it and gave the nod to pour. This would be their future, dining in lovely, expensive restaurants at tables covered with white linen tablecloths and fine crystal and silver. Once Adam was a doctor, once she had launched her business, they’d both be successful, happy, and financially secure. She’d never have to worry about being sick because her doctor husband would take care of her. They’d both live to a ripe, old age. And their life would be perfect.
He raised his glass and smiled at her. “To us.”
She mirrored the action. “To us.”
“And speaking of us.” She pulled the little gift bag she’d carried into the restaurant from under her seat. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“What have we got here?” he asked, smiling.
“Open it and see.”
He did and pulled out a can of Almond Roca. “My favorite. Thanks, babe.”
“There’s more.”
He fished inside the tissue paper and brought out a five-by-seven-inch pewter frame holding a picture of them taken on New Year’s Eve, the night they got engaged. They were at his friend Dave’s, snuggled together on the couch, holding champagne glasses and grinning like it was Christmas morning.
He was looking at it like he wasn’t sure what it was.
“I thought you could put it on your desk,” she said.
“Absolutely. Thank you.”
The waiter arrived with their calamari and Adam shoved the presents back in the bag. “This looks good,” he said, eyeing the food.
For a moment Erin found herself disappointed. She’d expected just a little more enthusiasm.
That’s not very realistic, her inner mother whispered. True. A woman couldn’t expect a man to gush over things the way her girlfriends did. Maybe she should have bought him something at Car Toys. He’d have probably gushed over that.
He did thank you, pointed out her inner mother.
True.
The dinner was perfect. Lobster was just as wonderful as she’d remembered, and the wine gave her a happy buzz. And now for the finishing touch: dessert. Erin had been salivating over the chocolate lava cake she’d seen a woman enjoying one table over.
She smiled up at the waiter, who stood poised to take her order. “Dessert? Absolutely.”
“What about your diet?” Adam asked.
Her taste buds suddenly went dry. “My diet?” It was Valentine’s Day. Who dieted on Valentine’s Day?
“You want to split something?” Adam offered. He turned to the waiter. “She’s dieting.”
Erin’s cheeks sizzled. Adam might as well have pinned a big, scarlet D on her chest.
Like she was going to order anything now? “I’ll pass,” she said. She could have sworn the waiter nodded approvingly.
“I guess we’ll take the check then,” said Adam.
The waiter left and she scowled at her fiancé. “That was totally tasteless.”
“What?”
“You didn’t have to say right in front of the waiter that I’m on a diet.”
“But you are. Aren’t you?”
“That is beside the point. And it’s totally uncool to mention it when it’s Valentine’s Day.”
“I didn’t mean to be uncool. I was just trying to be supportive.”
“Please don’t be supportive like that ever again. That was completely humiliating.”
“Sorry,” he said.
She sighed. “Oh, well. You saved my diet from death by chocolate, so I guess I’ll have to forgive you.”
It was just as well she hadn’t had dessert, she decided when she got a peek at the check. Adam had already paid enough.
She offered to take care of the tip and he let her. “The dinner was great,” she told him as they slipped out of their seats. “Thanks.” She hugged his arm and they started to leave, but she suddenly realized something was missing. “Your present!”
“Oh, yeah. Don’t want to forget that,” he said.
But he had. It wasn’t as glam as dinner and dancing, but she’d put a lot of thought into his present. “You did like it, didn’t you?” she asked as they walked out the door.
“Of course I did,” he said, and hugged her to him. “I love Almond Roca.”
“And?” she prompted, giving him a playful nudge.
He grinned. “And you.”
Okay, good enough.
Their next stop was the Last Resort. The little club had opened in Heart Lake only a few months ago, but it was already the place to be on a weekend. It was decorated to look like a lounge from the late fifties, and every time Erin entered it she expected to run into Ingrid Bergman or Audrey Hepburn. Small tables with candle lamps dotted the floor with soft spots of light. Each of those tables held an old, chunky ashtray, usually filled with cocktail munchies. Black-and-white signed pictures of visiting B celebrities like former Sonics basketball coaches and the professor from Gilligan’s Island marched along the far wall. One corner of the room held a small stage for a dance band or a DJ, although it was usually set up for karaoke singing or a comic or an MC on nights when trivia was the thing. The dance floor wasn’t huge, but it could pack in a lot of people on a Saturday night. A big tropical fish tank divided the waiting area from the lounge, which was already a herd of people—most under the age of thirty. Tonight a DJ was set up and already spinning tunes, and some of the herd were shimmying around the floor. Many wore Valentine finery, others were costumed like French maids, pirates, or superheroes. Everyone wore their Mardi Gras masks. Erin suddenly thought of the masked-ball scene in The Phantom of the Opera and felt a tingle go down her back.
The bar was packed, too, she noticed as she and Adam donned their masks and made their way past it to the last unoccupied table in a far corner. It was mostly singles hoping to hook up with someone before the night was over. On Valentine’s Day? Fat chance. Being by yourself on Valentine’s Day was so not fun, so why would any sane person come out in public and announce it?
“This place is a mob scene,” Adam said in disgust as they settled at their table. He ran a hand up Erin’s arm. “Let’s go back to the house and forget this.”
“This is going to be fun,” Erin insisted.
He cocked his head. He was wearing a tragedy mask, and the gesture looked oddly gothic. “Yeah?”
“You look scary,” she informed him.
“Well, you look beautiful,” he said.
She felt beautiful in her hot red dress, with her red sequined mask, beautiful and mysterious. It was a great way to feel on such a romantic day.
Their cocktail waitress came up.
“What do you want, babe?” Adam asked.
“Girl Gone Wild,” Erin decided.
“Scotch, rocks,” Adam told the waitress and she hurried off. “Going wild sounds good,” he told Erin.
“Then let’s get on the dance floor,” she suggested, standing up.
Of course, it was too noisy to hear, but she was sure he’d just sighed. She knew he wanted to go home and collect his Valentine reward, but he could just wait a while. She took his hand and started boogying her way to the dance floor, Adam lumbering along behind like a captive bear on parade.
They barely had room to move, but she managed. The DJ was playing Sierra, who was singing about acting like a boy, and the music thrummed through Erin’s veins. And, now that he was out on t
he floor, Adam was getting into the dancing, too. He was such a great dancer, graceful, gorgeous, and strong, and she loved it when he got physical, which he was doing right now, whipping her up against him and then spinning her till she couldn’t stand up straight. Oh, yeah. This was fun. They stayed on the dance floor for four more songs. By the time they were done, Erin was hot and dying of thirst. And back at their table, her drink was waiting.
Adam saluted her with his glass.
She smiled at him and drank up. Moments like this, when he was being romantic and sweet, were when she remembered why they were an us. Adam was the most perfect man on the planet.
“So, what do you say we go home?”
“Just a little longer,” she begged. “We just got here.”
He slouched back against his chair and consoled himself with another sip of his Scotch.
He had done a lot to make sure she had a great evening. She supposed they didn’t have to stay here all night. But. “One more dance,” she said, offering a compromise.
“Okay,” he agreed. “I know that really means three, so let me hit the john first.”
She rewarded him with a smile. Okay, three more dances. That was a very good compromise.
He left and she sat watching the revelers and sipping her drink. Whoa, this stuff was well named. It packed a punch. But it suited her mood. A dark club, a Mardi Gras mask, a new, red dress—it was all a recipe for magic. Maybe she could persuade Adam to stay a little longer. So far the night had been wonderful, but she was sure if they stayed longer they’d go beyond wonderful and find the magic.
She felt a hand on her shoulder and jumped. Adam didn’t usually sneak up on her like that. She looked up and saw that it wasn’t Adam standing in back of her. It was Zorro.
He didn’t say a word, just took her hand and tugged her from her seat. Here was the magic.
But it came with the wrong man. “I’m with someone,” Erin protested.
“Yeah, me,” said Zorro, and towed her out to the dance floor.
It was a slow dance. Adam would be pissed. And he’d kill Zorro.
Bob Seger and Martina McBride sang “Chances Are” as Zorro drew Erin up against him and started them swaying. The body contact sent a zing from her bra to her … “Dan!” She pulled back.
“No. Zorro,” he corrected her in a phony Spanish accent.
She frowned at him. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at work?”
“I’ve got Fridays off now, for good behavior.”
“Well, this is not good behavior,” she informed him. “My fiancé will be here any minute.”
“So?”
“So he won’t like me dancing with you.”
“What, he won’t let you dance with an old friend?”
“An old nuisance,” Erin corrected.
Dan grinned. It was ridiculous how sexy a strip of black cloth could make a man look. “Aw, come on. You know you love me.” He sobered. “But do you know you love him?”
She jerked out of Dan’s arms. “Of course I do.”
“Okay, okay.” He pulled her back to him. “I just want to see you happy. If this is the guy who’s gonna do it, then great.”
“Thank you,” Erin said stiffly.
And just when she thought they had this all settled, Dan added, “So tell me why he’s the right one.”
“You know, my own brother hasn’t given me this kind of third degree.”
“Your bro’s a dipshit. Anyway, he’s in California. He deputized me.”
Erin gave a scornful snort. “Right.”
“He did. You can ask him. So, tell me, why will this guy make you happy?”
“Because.” Now, there was an impressive answer. It was that Girl Gone Wild. It was fuddling her brain. She couldn’t think.
But she could feel. She was very conscious of their bodies brushing against each other, of Dan’s hand warm against her lower back. Ooh, and she was feeling things other places, too.
This is not good, fretted her inner mother.
“Because?” Dan prompted.
Because? What were they talking about? Oh, yes, Adam. “Because he’ll always be there for me.” There. That should explain everything.
“A lot of guys could fill that bill.”
“He was there for me when my mom died.” Adam had been a strong shoulder to cry on, her shelter in the storm, her rock, and she could never forget that.
“Some of us were out of the country when your mom died.”
That time had been a horrible blur, but Erin suddenly remembered the card she’d received from Dan, the one with the military return address. She had it tucked away in a floral hatbox, along with all the other letters and condolence cards she’d received. “Wish I could be there with you,” he’d written. “Hope you have a big wake in your mom’s honor. She was an awesome lady.”
Adam had never known her mother.
But he’d known grief, and he’d helped Erin through hers. He’d help her through her whole life. “Adam is perfect for me. He’s handsome, he’s fun, and he’s very together. We’ll make a good team.”
“You forgot a couple of things.”
“Like what?”
“Kind. Generous.”
“He’s kind. And as for generous, he just spent a fortune on me tonight.”
“It’s Valentine’s Day. What guy doesn’t spend a fortune on the biggest get-lucky day of the year?”
“You’re disgusting,” Erin informed him.
“Not disgusting. Truthful.”
She looked over Dan’s shoulder and saw Adam approaching. He’d lost the Mardi Gras mask, making it easy to see that he was mad. She put some space between her and Dan.
It was a little too late. When Adam reached them he was looking like he’d just gotten a taste of something sour. “Erin?”
“Adam.” She shouldn’t be sounding so flustered. She hadn’t done anything to be ashamed of. She may have felt a few things, but … “This is our old family friend,” she began.
“Zorro?” Adam interrupted in mocking tones. He took Erin’s arm and pulled her away.
“Dan Rockwell,” Erin finished.
“I guess congratulations are in order,” Dan said easily, ignoring Adam’s adversarial behavior.
“Yeah. We’re getting married.” Adam may as well have added, “Want to make something out of it?” He turned to Erin. “Come on, let’s go home.”
“I thought we were going to dance some more,” she protested.
“I’m all danced out,” he said. “Let’s go.”
“Well, nice seein’ ya,” Dan said to Erin. Then he leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Here’s something else you forgot to put on that short list of McDoodoo’s good points: unselfish. I wonder why.” Then with a swirl of his cape he turned and melted into the dark.
Fifteen
“What the hell did he just say to you?” Adam demanded.
“That you’re one lucky guy,” Erin snapped, and marched off the dance floor.
“I don’t know why you’re acting so pissed,” Adam said once they were in the car. “I’m the one who came back from the john to find my woman dirty dancing with some moron in a Zorro costume.”
“He’s an old friend. I was just being polite.”
“I saw how close you were dancing. Pretty damned polite.”
“I’ve known him since I was kid,” Erin explained. “He’s like a brother.”
Adam frowned, facing straight ahead. “A girl dances that close with her brother and they call it incest.”
“Are you going to ruin our Valentine’s Day?” Erin demanded.
“Me!”
“You’re the one who’s fighting.”
He shook his head and kept his gaze on the road.
They drove the rest of the way home in silence.
He stopped the car in front of her house and she turned in her seat. “Adam, I don’t want to fight, especially not after the beautiful night we had together.” All this squabbling, a
ll these prewedding jitters—maybe they should just go to Vegas.
But she didn’t want to go to Vegas. She didn’t want to cheat herself out of something she’d been dreaming about for a long time.
Even if that dream turned into a nightmare? They couldn’t keep going on like this. She couldn’t keep going on like this.
Adam let out a long breath and turned to her. “I don’t want to, either. I’m sorry.” He reached out and fingered a lock of her hair. “I just saw him with you and lost it. I don’t want to lose you. I know we’re both under a lot of pressure right now. Once I’m done with school, once you’ve finished planning the wedding, it will be better.”
Of course it would. She bit her lip and nodded. “But Adam, just because we’re under a lot of pressure, we shouldn’t take it out on each other.”
“You’re right.” He smiled at her and slipped his hand around her neck, nudging her toward him. “Come here.”
She came and he made it worth her while. This was the Adam she loved, the strong, in-control, but tender Adam. “Want to come in?” she whispered.
“You bet.”
Once inside the house she lit candles and poured them champagne, and he stretched her out among the sofa cushions and kissed her crazy. And life was perfect again.
Until Saturday morning, when it was just her and her Valentine memories. She went to the kitchen counter to feed her fish and saw the DVD Adam had given her, still lying where she’d left it the night before, and something dark nibbled at her happy morning afterglow. She picked up the DVD and looked at the cover. There was Sandra Bullock in the arms of Bill Pullman. Sandra Bullock had thought she wanted the man with the big lips and the unibrow, but he’d turned out to be the wrong man.
See any resemblance? whispered a man in a Zorro costume.
She slammed the DVD back on the counter, facedown. No, none whatsoever! That was just a movie, nothing to do with real life. And anyone with a brain could have told Sandra Bullock that Mr. Unibrow was a dweeb. A woman didn’t just pick a man because he looked nice in a suit. She picked a man who loved her, who would be good to her, who had the same goals. Erin had done that and she and Adam were going to be happy together, very happy.
And if she ever spoke to Dan Rockwell again, she’d tell him. She’d also tell him to quit messing with her mind. What did he know about anything anyway?
Bikini Season Page 15
