by Lori Foster
Giving Charlotte one last smug wink, he strode out the door.
“Oh, my God,” Bella breathed. “I can’t believe you did that!”
“What’s done is done,” Dana said, nodding with approval. “We’ve only got one month. A shopping trip, first thing. No, wait. My hairdresser! And maybe a facial…”
“Facial, nothing. Full day of spa treatment,” Bella said, diving for her purse and producing a business card. “I’ll be back from Hawaii in exactly two weeks. You guys take care of clothes and makeup. I’ll work out a strategy.”
“One thousand dollars,” Dana said, glancing at Charlotte with a curious gleam of pride. “Unbelievable.”
Charlotte gritted her teeth. “I’ve never lost a bet with Gabe without a fight. Now, pipe down,” she ordered, a viselike grip on the paperback. “I’m trying to read here!”
2
EIGHT O’CLOCK the next morning, the persistent sound of her doorbell jarred Charlotte from a restless sleep. She stumbled out of bed, muttering and rubbing at her sleep-sandy eyes. “If it’s Gabe, you might as well know I decided to forfeit,” she called. “I must have been insane. Would you just leave me to wallow in my singleness in peace?”
“Not a chance,” a muffled female voice countered. “It’s Dana. Open up.”
Charlotte groaned. Dana. Even worse. She unlatched the chain and cautiously pulled the door open.
“Well?” Dana looked far too enthusiastic about being up this early on a Sunday morning. “Today is the first day of the new you, Charlotte Taylor. Are you ready?”
“What are you? Captain of the matrimonial cheerleading squad?” Charlotte shuffled over to the kitchen and turned on her coffeemaker. No way was she facing one of Dana’s makeover speeches without caffeine. “Besides, I’m not going through with this. I did a lot of thinking, and I’m going to get Gabe to just drop the whole thing. I don’t really need to prove anything….”
“Oh no you don’t,” Dana countered, frowning at Charlotte as she unslung a fair-size bag from her shoulder. She started piling small jars, bottles and tubes on the kitchen table. “On any other bet, I’d probably be trying to stop you myself—you two manage to come up with some fairly idiotic ones—but this time, I’m all for it. I’ve waited ten years for you to do something with those buried gorgeous looks of yours. There is no chance in heck I’m letting you off that easily.”
Charlotte eyed the supplies warily. “What’s all this for?”
Dana smiled. “This is step one.”
“Step one?” Charlotte picked up one of the bottles. The label was in Norwegian and most of the ingredients had eighteen syllables. “How many steps are there?”
“That depends on how cooperative you are.”
Dana proceeded to get a box of oatmeal out of the pantry, then mixed some with water in a bowl.
“I wasn’t planning on eating breakfast,” Charlotte groused, pouring herself a mugful of coffee, “so I hope that’s not for me.”
“This isn’t for your insides. This is for your outsides.” Dana grabbed one of the bottles, added some of its green liquid to the bowl, then studied the resultant mixture. “It’s also going to get a little messy. Here, stir this.”
Charlotte stirred, then gaped as Dana produced a clear plastic tarp from her bag and laid it out on the living room floor. “What is that for?”
Dana didn’t answer. Opening the front door and walking to the deck, she grabbed one of the forest-green plastic chairs and dragged it inside. “Here you go. Sit down.”
Charlotte took a quick chug out of her coffee mug before Dana plunked her down in the chair, ignoring Charlotte’s startled yelp. Charlotte tried to frown at her friend, but wasn’t able to turn far enough in the chair to see her. “Okay, this has gone from annoying to painful, Dana.”
Dana took a breath, and Charlotte could feel that intent, “helping friend” stare of hers. “Listen to me. I don’t mean to be pushy, or rude, but I’m going to flat-out say it. Honey, you need help…and for the first time since high school, we’re going to make sure you get it.”
Charlotte gritted her teeth. Apparently, the time for wheedling and not-so-subtle nudges from her friends had passed. Dana and Bella had gone to war. “I know I haven’t seemed—”
“Hush. Let me finish.” Dana’s voice was firm. “I don’t mean to play amateur psychologist here, but being raised by your dad alone all those years couldn’t have made it easy for you. Bella and I did everything we could, but even I know two girls aren’t going to replace a mother.”
“You both loved me and did what you thought was best at the time.” Which Charlotte had really appreciated, even if she often chafed under their efforts. “It wasn’t easy, but see? I managed just fine.”
“But you’re not managing. That’s my whole point.” Dana sighed with obvious frustration. “You’ve tolerated us, you’ve humored us, but you’re stubbornly convinced that you’re not pretty and that you’re not going to find a man who will fall in love with you. You’re just hiding behind that ‘just one of the guys’ facade. Well, your days of hiding are over.” Dana craned her head to stare directly into Charlotte’s face. “And don’t do that chin thing at me, either.”
Charlotte blinked. “What chin thing?”
“The ‘I’ll tune back in when she says something I want to hear’ chin thing.”
Charlotte sighed. “Okay. I’m listening. What exactly is it you want me to do?”
“Really try at this. Give it your best shot.”
“I’m not hiding, Dana. I…okay, maybe I could be a little braver in the social arena. But frankly, I’m happy with my life as it is. I don’t need to date. I don’t need to change my appearance. Why can’t people be happy with me the way I am?”
Dana sighed. “Someday, a man is going to love you for just who you are, honey. I promise that. But if you’re so happy with your life, why were you so sad at Bella’s wedding?” Her eyes bore into Charlotte like lasers. “And don’t tell me it was your hangover. We’ve known each other much too long.”
That was the problem with having childhood friends. They read you like a book, Charlote thought, resigned.
“We’d leave you alone if we knew you were really happy,” Dana said, giving her a quick, hard hug. “But we’re not letting you just settle for a life of mediocrity without a fight. If you’d let that outer beauty catch up with your inner beauty, I know you’d find the right person for you. I just know it.”
“Beauty? Me?” Charlotte’s voice cracked. “What have you been smoking?”
Dana huffed impatiently. “One step at a time. Right now, the body comes first. We’ll work on attitude soon, though.”
She lifted the bowl in front of Charlotte, then grabbed a handful of the oatmeal mixture.
“Dana,” Charlotte warned, “no way am I letting you turn my face into cooked cereal…arrrgh.” She was silenced as Dana mercilessly glopped the thick, pasty stuff on her face. She shut her eyes and faced the inevitable.
“Sit still. This is just the beginning. I’ve got a hair appointment for you at twelve, and get ready for a full afternoon of shopping….”
Dana continued to burble on happily as she outlined her grand scheme for Charlotte’s transformation. Charlotte fought tears as the list grew longer.
There was no way she could turn down their help. If it had been anyone else, she would say exactly where they could stow their bright ideas and makeover agendas. But it was her two oldest friends…friends who had made room for her at holidays, friends who had clapped and cheered at the college graduation her father had missed, dying two years earlier of cancer. She loved them enough to put up with their pushing, prodding and relentless mothering. She’d die for them if they asked.
But dying was one thing, her mind countered stubbornly. Making a complete fool out of herself for the second time in her life was something else!
“Charlotte, have you heard a word I’ve said?”
Charlotte was jolted out of her thoughts. �
�What?”
Dana chuckled, then walked to the kitchen to put the bowl down in the sink. “I’ve been outlining your beauty agenda. I’m sure this is overwhelming to you right now, but I know you. You’re going to work harder at this than at anything in your life.”
Charlotte turned, only to have her head spun as Dana grabbed her hair and made thoughtful noises. “What in the world gives you that impression?” Charlotte asked, puzzled.
“That bet,” Dana said, reaching for another jar. “You’ve never done less than two hundred percent to win a bet with Gabe. When you two shook hands, I could have kissed him!”
The temper that had gotten Charlotte into this mess sprung to life. “Oh, me too,” Charlotte said acidly. “My best friend tells me in no uncertain terms that I not only lack the looks but the outright talent to get a man. Yeah. What a pal.”
Dana laughed, then smoothed a fistful of clay onto Charlotte’s head. It felt cold and squishy, and dribbles of it crawled down her neck. She squirmed uncomfortably in her seat.
“Well, now’s your chance to prove him wrong. Really go all out. Honestly,” Dana said, massaging the clay into Charlotte’s scalp, “forget the bet. If you don’t get a guy in one month, I will not only be shocked, I will throw in the towel for good. I’ll give up my title as both matchmaker and makeover-er.”
The sharp retort that Charlotte had been about to make died on her lips. “Really? You’d give it up?”
“Full money-back guarantee, and I’ll never bug you on the subject again,” Dana said, popping a clear plastic shower cap over Charlotte’s mud-laden head. “I’ll make sure Bella doesn’t, either. I have that much confidence in you.”
Charlotte didn’t say anything. A diplomatic way to get her friends to leave her alone? After only one month?
Suddenly, the bet with Gabe didn’t seem like such a horrible thing after all. Sure, she’d have to figure out a way around the thousand dollar part, but otherwise the rest of it was a piece of cake. She’d let the girls curl, crimp, color and coordinate to their hearts’ contents. Then she’d lose, they’d concede, and she could finally get on with her life with some modicum of peace. It was perfect!
Suddenly, she felt like kissing Gabe. This backhanded bet was just what she was looking for!
“Well, then,” Charlotte said, beaming her first real smile of the morning. “Let the transformation begin!”
“What transformation?” Gabe’s voice called from the front door.
Dana let out a startled little yip. Charlotte, on the other hand, made a break for the bathroom as soon as she heard him. Unfortunately, her foot slipped on the slick plastic tarp. She sprawled out on the floor, facedown and bottom up.
“Well, well,” Gabe drawled, grating on every single one of Charlotte’s nerves. “There’s a sight you don’t see every day.”
“And thank God for that,” Charlotte muttered, getting up slowly. “Don’t you knock? And what are you doing here this early in the morning, anyway?”
“In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never knocked if your door is open,” he said, shrugging. “As far as why I’m here, there’s a football game on in half an hour. I haven’t gone food shopping yet, and I thought, my good buddy Charlotte always has something…”
“Please. Just help yourself,” Charlotte said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Gabe agreed, helping himself to a mug of coffee and rooting through her refrigerator for a bagel. “You seem particularly grumpy this morning. Could it be because our good friend Dana here got you up early, or because she spackled your face?”
Dana and Charlotte both glared at him, and he laughed. “Sorry. I guess it’s a girl thing.”
“It’s more like a bet thing,” Dana snapped, gathering her makeover supplies and piling them back into her bag.
“Bet?” Gabe pretended to mull it over. “I seem to remember something about that. One grand, one month, and from the looks of it, a whole lot of oatmeal.” Gabe winked at Charlotte. “Think you’ll be able to wash all that off by Thursday? We’ve got one serious poker night going on at my house, and I don’t want you covering your famous poker face with that goop. You’ll scare the guys.”
“The only thing they’ll be scared of is making their rent after I’ve cleaned them out,” Charlotte boasted.
“Oh no you don’t,” Dana cut in, frowning at Gabe before turning back to Charlotte. “From here on out, Thursdays through Sundays are designated date nights. You’re booked.”
Charlotte took a deep breath. Just one tiny, minuscule month, she reminded herself. “Okay, coach.”
The teasing look washed off Gabe’s face. “Okay?” His gray eyes widened. “Just like that? You’d ditch poker night to wait for…for some guy?”
“No,” Charlotte corrected him sweetly, “I’m ditching poker night to go out with some guy.”
Gabe scowled at her, but Dana laughed. “That’s my girl! Now, I’ve got to confirm that massage and full body wrap I’ve got scheduled for you tonight at the spa. Where did you leave your phone?”
“It’s in the bedroom,” Charlotte said absently. Dana made a beeline for it, reciting her makeover to-do list as she went.
Now was the perfect time to maybe negotiate the bet from a thousand down to something more reasonable. She might have to swallow a little pride, but it would be worth it. With Gabe’s help, the four weeks could fly by. Without it…
“You can’t be serious about this,” Gabe muttered before she could say anything.
It wasn’t so much what he said. It was the tone that immediately put her back up. “Why not?”
“Because it’s insane!” Gabe said, running his hand through his hair in a trademark gesture of frustration. “I was just kidding, for pity’s sake. I figured even if you did agree, one week with the makeover fascists would have you crying uncle.”
Charlotte almost smiled at that one, until she heard his next sentence.
“Besides, you don’t really want to find Mr. Right. You wouldn’t know what do with him if you found him. You’re not like those Guide women at all.” His voice rang with certainty. “Think about it. You, trying to snare some unsuspecting man and drag him home by the hair?”
“Actually, I was planning on just wearing something see-through at my front door and luring them in,” Charlotte snapped back, irritated by his amusement. “The kind of men I’m after would probably be too heavy for me to drag.”
Gabe growled, then took a deep breath, apparently deciding to try a different approach. “There’s nothing wrong with the way you are, and you shouldn’t let them try to change you,” he said, his voice more serious. “I thought you liked your life the way it was. What’s so wrong about hanging out with us guys, anyway? We never hassle you about changing. We don’t care what you look like!”
Translation: she could be the ugliest mud-beast to walk the face of the earth, but she’d always be “their Charlie.”
“So you dress grubby…” he continued.
“Okay, stop right there.” Swallowing her pride was one thing. Choking to death on it was another! “Before that foot becomes permanently lodged in your throat, stop trying to convince me. My mind’s made up. I’m going through with this bet.”
This was not the way to convince him to help her, she realized. But the way he was acting, she didn’t want his help. He wasn’t pitying her, exactly, but he was…excusing her, somehow. It was worse than being pitied by the girls. He deserved a little payback, even if she knew she couldn’t win. She might not ever look “beautiful,” but he’d definitely think twice before he used the term grubby again!
“I may not look like much now, Gabe,” she said, with anger-induced bravado, “but I swear, I’m going to look like the goddess of love when you’re signing that check.”
“Better watch that mud pack, Venus,” he countered, leaning closer to her, a wicked grin on his face. “I hate to tell you, but you’ve got terra-cotta coating your neck. And there’s a cozy scoop
of oatmeal between your…”
He started laughing too hard to speak, cutting off his sentence, and he raised a finger to point.
Charlotte saw red. Snatching up one of the pillows from her overstuffed couch, she side-armed it at him, catching him straight in his chuckling mouth. He grabbed the little plastic chair as a shield as she pelted him with the rest of her ammunition.
Still steaming, she glanced around for something else to throw. Then she noticed the unholy gleam in Gabe’s eyes as he put the chair down.
She felt a brief pang of panic as she realized his intentions. “Gabe,” she protested, holding a hand up. “Now, let’s not be hasty here. I’m your best friend….”
He picked up an armful of pillows and grinned.
“Ga-a-a-abe!” She gave one last, desperate cry as he began to bombard her. He was blocking off the entrance to both her room and the bathroom, and his aim was wickedly on target. With a scream, she bolted toward her front hallway, with Gabe in full pursuit.
“Dammit, Gabe!” Trapped, she threw open her front door and ran out, his deep, rolling laughter dogging her every step. She made a dash for the side of the house. She hoped the garden hose was out so she could give him a nice cold blast, when instead she ran smack into a broad, muscular chest.
“Oof,” she uttered, landing on the soft grass of the side yard with a thump.
“Oops! Sorry,” a deep male voice intoned, with an undercurrent of amusement. “Are you all right?”
She looked up. A golden, gorgeous Adonis was staring down at her. His bare, golden tanned chest emerged from what looked like a low-slung pair of Dockers. She gaped, horrified.
“Are you all right, miss?” Adonis repeated, looking less amused now and more worried. He also looked vaguely familiar. She shook off the thought. If she knew somebody this good-looking, she’d remember it! “I didn’t mean to knock you over,” he apologized. He offered her a hand to tug her up.
She stared at it. Of all the days for this sort of thing to happen to her, why today, when she looked like this?
