“Yeah, I was having some fruit cravings this morning.” He tipped the sack towards her to reveal an assortment of grapefruits and melons, bananas and oranges, and plastic crates of strawberries.
“Very healthy,” she conceded. “But veggies are probably better for you. Carrots and cucumbers, and all that good stuff.”
He grimaced. “Sorry, but I’m not sure I’m that desperate for good health. Not that I can expect much sympathy from you,” he added. “You’ve really taken it to a new level.”
Tess shook her head, sensing the topic of her diet was getting close to dangerous grounds. “It was just for a month,” she said. "Just a social experiment. Sort of."
“Right.” He shuffled the bag in his arms uncomfortably, then gave her serious look. “You know, Tess I…I never thought you needed this whole rapid reducer thing," he said. "I know it makes you happy, but it doesn’t make any difference to me, or anyone else who really cares about you. Does that make sense?” His eyes flickered towards hers, something in their depths stirring a warmth inside her chest.
Keeping her gaze locked with his, she leaned slowly towards him. Her eyes drifting shut as the distance between them closed to almost a kiss away. Feeling his fingers touch her arm softly, his breath brushing against her skin.
With a jolt, she leaped away from him as the phone rang inside her apartment.
“It must be Nikki,” she gasped, flustered from the moment. “She offered to take me for a makeover. For the party tonight.” Her shaking hands struggled to get her key in lock as she rattled off this information.
“A makeover?” Ethan frowned, as she pushed through the door to grab the ringing phone. “But you’ve had one already, haven’t you?” he asked, using his foot to scoot her laundry basket back inside the apartment.
She turned away from his disapproving expression as Nikki’s voice echoed chirpily across the line. “Tess, it’s all set. I’ve got you booked for an afternoon with Rocco at his saloon. You know, he’s the one who does Claudia Kellar’s hair? Well, I told him all about your recent, uh transformation and he thinks…”
“Uh-huh,” Tess said, glancing in Ethan's direction. Her cheeks crimsoning as he shook his head at her, his face tight with disapproval. He turned to go, closing the door behind him.
“Wait,” she cried, darting after him as her knee struck the table, tumbling the cordless phone's base to the floor. "Rats!" she said, fumbling to pick it up, forgetting about Nikki on the other end.
“What was that?” came the confused voice on the line. “Is everything okay?”
“Fine,” Tess grumbled. “Just fine. I’ll meet you at Rocco’s.”
She hung up, still burning from her neighbor’s sulky reaction. Couldn’t he see how exciting all this must be for her? A new body and a new life, opening doors she never dreamed were within her reach. Instead, he acted as if getting a makeover were some kind of crime.
The apartment seemed unbearably stuffy all of sudden. She pried open the living room window and stuck her head out to catch some of the breeze. Taking deep, rhythmic breaths to soothe her angry nerves.
Back in the bedroom, Firefly mewed for attention as she dug the eyelet dress and some high heels from the back of the closet. “Not right now,” she told him, shooing the unhappy feline into the next room. Probably he wondered why she seemed so much crankier than she used to. Or why she didn’t spend as much time lounging with him on the sofa and playing with his favorite windup toy.
She stepped on the scale, registering a scant difference of three pounds from the last weigh-in. Disappointing, but inevitable–hadn't the recipe book suggested she would reach a plateau that would require extra effort?
“Well get used to the way things are," she told Firefly as she stalked into the living room, winding a filmy shawl around her bare shoulders. “Because I may just have a life now."
Although Ethan was the person she wanted to hear those words.
Instead, he was probably in his apartment, making big plans for the evening. But he wasn’t going to catch her waiting around the hall again in a pathetic attempt to make amends.
A hollow feeling had been growing in her stomach all morning, but now it seemed emptier than ever. She couldn’t go to the party like this. What if she lost control of herself and wolfed down a tray of finger foods in front of a roomful of models?
Yanking open the fridge, she scanned its contents, unmoved by the selection of fruit and vegetable platters, the plastic container of pre-prepared juice. All at once, she spotted something small and shiny in the very back.
The mini chocolates.
Without thinking twice, she ripped open the package and shoved a handful of the caramel candies inside her mouth. This was followed by another and then another until the tray was empty. Then she straightened her shoulders and tossed the container in the trash as she walked out the door.
*****
As it turned out, she didn’t have to worry about devouring the buffet.
Jack favored a health theme for all of the Accessorized celebrations, with trays of celery sticks and platters of tofu as the food highlights, along with a modest selection of fruit flavored yogurt cups. Tess spent the evening nibbling a handful of wheat crackers and cucumber slices as she circulated among the roomful of elegant if somewhat intimidating guests.
Rocco had done something unusual with her hair, teasing and poofing it until it resembled something from an eighties rocker music video. She kept self-consciously patting it down as Nikki and Mia introduced her to various models and writers, as well as fashion designers and magazine publishers.
With her free hand, she smoothed her dress, feeling the built-in corset cinching her waist as small as possible. Like iron bands wrapped around her ribcage for the purpose of pinching her flesh.
“Say cheese,” Sam ordered, snapping a flash bulb shot of her that left her blinking away yellow dots. “Gorgeous,” he assured her, before moving on to the next group of party guests.
“Shouldn’t you be mingling more?” Nikki asked, appearing at her elbow to survey her with a tight frown. “This is your big chance to make a glowing first impression, Tess. You don’t waste those in the fashion industry believe me.”
“But I don’t know anyone,” she argued, her tone more subdued than the fashion editor’s confident screech.
“So get to know them. And if I were you, I’d start with that gentleman right over there.”
Her gaze followed Nikki’s gesture to a tall, bronzed man in a business suit, his brown hair lightly frosted with specks of gray. Sort of like a younger version of Jack, she decided, with a better tan and less glaring teeth.
“Who is he?” she asked, not sure she liked the direction this evening was taking.
“C. J. Milton,” Nikki informed her in a whisper. “He’s the head of Newport Designs–I’m sure you’ve seen Claudia model some of their stuff. Anyway,” she continued, slipping an arm round Tess’s shoulders, “every year he scours the fashion events for potential new interns and assistants.”
“And you think he might look at my designs?” Tess wondered.
“Well it all depends on how much he likes the designer. But you’re totally rocking this dress and the mini-you thing ... and I’ve heard that C.J. prefers brunettes. So who knows, right?” She took a large sip from her glass. "He might not even care that you're, well, sort of well-endowed, compared to the rest of his girls."
“No thanks,” Tess said. “I think I’ll just work my way up the hard way.”
Nikki shrugged. “Suit yourself," she answered. Her eyes narrowed as she studied Tess anew. "But we both know why you lost the weight. It’s not exactly a chunky girl’s industry,” she reminded her, with a patronizing smile.
Without replying, Tess brushed past her, making her way through the stifling crowd. She dropped her plate of finger foods into the nearby trash receptacle, smoothing her hair, her fingernails ripping through the hairspray Rocco had plastered over its surface. A few strokes would help
tame the wild locks back into her normal wave with enough fury in her fingers.
“What are you doing?” hissed Mia, who until now had been busy chatting up a crowd of photographers. "Are you insane or something? This is a party, not a hole-in-the-wall club." Her eyes wandered over the flattened hair and slumped shoulders of her fellow fashion devotee.
Tess laid a hand on her shoulder. “I know you’re trying to help me,” she said, “and believe me, I thought I wanted you to. But I’m not sure it’s going to work.”
"What do you mean?" Mia looked confused.
"I'm not sure this is me," Tess answered, somewhat lamely.
“You’re crazy,” said Mia, staring at her. “You're on the threshold of opportunity here–”
"I know," Tess nodded. "But right now, it doesn't seem to matter." She turned and walked towards the door.
She wrapped her shawl tight around her shoulders, the sky dark and cloudy as she exited the party. She couldn’t take another minute of this place, storm or no storm. Her thoughts were gloomy and a little scared as she made her way down the sidewalk.
Had she crushed her career in a span of an hour so? Not that being a telemarketer was so terrible, but it wasn't the world of fashion. Even the clichés and shallow encounters of the last few days had been closer to her dream than the questionnaires she inflicted on the magazine's readers.
The only problem was Ethan. Whose heart seemed unattainable, but meant as much to her as the fashion sketches she labored over in her cramped apartment.
A cab took her the rest of the way home, where drops of rain had already begun to pelt the sidewalk. As she stepped into the dampness, she shivered, remembering with a groan she’d left her window open. Not that a little moisture could really hurt anything…She stopped dead in the middle of the lobby as a new realization hit her.
Firefly!
Tess tore up the three flights of stairs, her shawl flapping crazily behind her, her heels scraping the steps. “Firefly!” she called, even before she had the door open. Bursting into the apartment to see the orange tabby crouched on the sill. As she came towards him, he made a hissing motion and slunk onto the ledge.
“No, no, no–come to me, sweetie!” she called. Kicking off her heels before she crawled out the window after him. Her vision dipped in and out at the sight of the pavement far below, her heart thundering in her ears. Firefly shrank from her presence, surveying her with an unpleasant expression.
“Please come back,” she called, wiping the dampness from her cheeks. Except now it was a mixture of rain and tears that covered her face. “I didn’t mean it,” she pleaded. “I won’t be so cranky and I won’t ignore you ever again. Just please, please come here!”
Her voice pitch had reached a desperate level, but the cat didn’t obey. In fact, he began inching even further away. Heart trembling, she crawled after him, not really sure what her plan included next. Especially since the rain had started to pick up.
“Stop! Firefly, stop!”
He paused and looked back again, giving her hope. At that moment, the window in front of him popped open, Ethan’s upper half emerging in a swift motion. Grasping the cat, he pulled it inside his apartment, then reappeared for Tess.
“Be careful!” he called, as she inched towards him on the wet cement. “You’re almost here–that’s it, just a little further now.”
Two strong hands closed around her arms, half-dragging, half-lifting her through the window into his crowded living room. A subdued Firefly was perched on a stack of postal boxes, watching with sullen interest.
“You’re soaking wet,” Ethan said, wrapping a soft blanket around the flimsy eyelet dress. He shut the window, then drew her onto the sofa next to him. “What on earth possessed you to crawl out there like that?”
“I–I couldn’t let him run away,” she stammered, wiping the runny mascara from her eyes. “It was my fault he wanted to escape. I’ve been awful lately. Cranky and careless and completely self-absorbed.” She dropped her gaze to the floor, ashamed to meet his eyes after what she'd seen in them earlier that evening.
“What about all that makeover business?” he prompted gently. “You seemed so excited about your new friends, your big workplace party–”
“It was all wrong,” she interrupted. “Even though I thought I wanted it, it wasn't the same. Not the dream I tried to talk my boss into a few weeks ago, anyway." She daubed at her eyes. "It was just a silly, shallow figment of my imagination."
“Do you know what you want?” he asked, his blue-gray gaze intently searching her own.
She nodded. "I do," she said. "I want to be real–to be myself." Her voice trembled slightly. "And to be with you."
She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his in a soft, searching kiss. A tingle streaking through her spine as he returned it, his fingers reaching to interlace with hers. The only sound the patter of the rain against the window, and the contented purrs of Firefly, who leaped to join them on the sofa.
*****
“What do you think–too seventies prom?” Tess asked, holding up a sketch of her latest fashion design for Ethan to admire across the rooftop patio's narrow table. Two coffee cups and a platter of dessert pastries between them, a series of cheerful outdoor solar lanterns aglow in the dusky evening.
“It’s not bad,” said Ethan, wiping his fingers with a napkin. “But I liked the last one better. The pantsuit with the flared legs.”
“I agree,” she said, slipping it inside her portfolio again. “The gloves for the other one maybe overkill. Although Jack thinks I have good eye for accessories. He’s even letting me supervise the coordination for the magazine’s next jewelry feature.”
“Sounds like you’re on the verge of a big career break,” Ethan said, giving her hand a playful tap. “You know, this is the best first date I’ve ever had? And I think I know why.”
“Why?” she asked, pretending to be absorbed in playing with the leather straps that held her portfolio closed.
“The lack of karaoke, of course. And no pool tables either.”
She punched his arm, enjoying the mock grimace on his face. “I guess I should take that as a compliment. Given your bad dating track.”
“Touché.” He drummed his fingers against the table, studying the plate between them. “Wanna arm wrestle for the last pastry? Or should we just go halves on it?”
“Halves,” she said. Indulging in a wide grin as she broke the pastry in half and tasted its sugary sweetness before his lips met hers.
Imagine if she had never stopped trading food for love–and had missed the chance to enjoy a healthy portion of both every day.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Laura Briggs is an author of both indie and traditionally published fiction, including the CAPA award nominated Only in Novels. Her other works include The Wedding Caper, Lucky in Love, and the holiday romance Parade Banter.
A Romantic Novella from the author of Food for Love
Excerpt from The Wedding Caper
The room was bathed in bold flowers in contrast to the delicate pattern woven into the antique carpets. A woman in a blue mother-of-the-bride pants suit occupied the sofa, with a delicate brunette in jeans and a tank top occupying the chair.
Gwendolen approached timidly, clutching the portfolio. "Mrs. and Miss Harlett, I presume?" She forced a new smile to her lips.
"We're so glad to finally meet you!" Mrs. Harlett rose from the sofa and clasped Gwen's hands. "After all I've heard about your work, I really can't tell you what an honor it is that you've agreed to plan my daughter's special day."
"Well, I'm–" Gwendolen began. But Mrs. Harlett was not the silent type.
"We can't believe how lucky we were to make your client roster. After Timberson's agency cancelled on us overnight! Our original caterer and florist are down the drain, of course, and the wedding is less than three weeks away!" Her hands fluttered as she talked, displaying shiny red nails. "We're not taking your agency's decision for granted, trust me
."
Already, she had pulled the young woman in the armchair to her feet, gesturing towards her proudly as if she were an Honors student on display. "This is my daughter Julie," she continued, as Julie took Gwendolen's hand in a frank, friendly grip.
"The bride to be," said Gwendolen.
Julie laughed. "Are you sure about that? My mother is so enthusiastic about this wedding, it seems as if it's the other way around. But it's such an honor to have you, Ms. Taylor." She gripped Gwendolen's hand as if holding onto a celebrity.
"Oh, but I'm–" Gwen spoke again.
Julie leaned closer to her and lowered her voice."Between you and me, we need all the help we can get. My mother tends to take things too far. Way too far. And this day means a lot to me, so I would give anything to make it perfect. Please, Ms. Taylor, promise you'll work your magic."
She gazed pleadingly into Gwendolen's eyes, as if they were sisters sharing a secret. Despite her better judgment, Gwendolen's heart melted slightly.
"Of course you want it to be special," she answered. "But I'm afraid there's been a mistake."
"I saw your work at the Larson wedding," said Mrs. Harlett. "There's no mistake, Ms. Taylor. The two-tiered wedding cake with golden raspberries? The cinnamon and vanilla blossom table arrangements? It was positively inspired." Her voice dropped to an awed whisper.
That cake was inspired. Gwendolen had seen one similar in an out-of-print cookbook and sketched a quick design for the client's portfolio. Not that they knew the truth when they selected it from the agency's recommendations. Or that anyone knew that she was responsible for any part of that wedding.
As for the flowers, they were a last-minute substitute she worked out with a harried florist disgusted with the wedding's coffee theme. So Gwendolen couldn't help the surge of pride that rippled through her heart with those words.
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