by Linda Wisdom
He regretted not bringing his laptop computer along. Writing down his impressions of his vacation could be some good fodder for his column. He pulled stationery out of the desk drawer and began writing. When he got a chance, he’d pick up a notebook in town.
I’m sitting here in paradise. I’ll be meeting a beautiful woman for dinner. Is this not every man’s dream? After all, the kids are three thousand miles away. So why am I thinking the kids would have a ball here? Yeah, I know I’m a fool.
I’m a single dad who works out of my home. Meeting women isn’t easy unless we’re parents in the same play group or at the preschool.
But I’m still feeling guilty being here without the kids. Maybe I should look at it another way. Maybe the kids are enjoying a vacation from me. Maybe they’re doing all the things I don’t allow them to do.
Can any of you tell me why when I woke up this morning, I thought about that beautiful woman instead of my kids? In a sense, I did think about them. I thought about how it felt not having a small body jump on top of me and demand breakfast. I thought about how it felt to hear sounds of the ocean in the background instead of Sesame Street.
Then I thought about seeing the lovely lady in a bikini.
You know what this means, don’t you? I’ll be taking home a small fortune in souvenirs for my kids because I’ll feel guilty I didn’t take them with me.
And for now, I’m going to enjoy my time with this lady. Do guy-and-girl stuff. I bet there isn’t one of you out there who wouldn’t do the same thing.
Zach sat back and reread what he’d written. Not bad. Some fine-tuning and he’d have a column in the making, detailing his vacation.
He looked out over the glorious expanse of blue water and white sand.
The man was looking forward to spending time with Ginna. The father was missing his kids big time.
Chapter Three
“Vacation is starting out to be even more than I wished for,” Ginna said aloud as she wrote on a postcard she’d already addressed to the salon. “If you only knew.” She signed her name and stuck a postage stamp in the corner. “This will make them crazy wondering what’s going on.” She went on to write short notes on several other postcards to family members. She made sure each note hinted at something good without giving anything away.
She’d hoped to spend most of the day with Zach, but then she thought it over and decided maybe it was better if they didn’t spend too much time together. She didn’t want him to think she was too eager.
Even if she was feeling pretty impatient to see Zach again.
He might have thought he was less than macho for losing his battle with the sailboard, but she saw it as adorable. A description she knew he probably wouldn’t appreciate, but she thought he was pretty special. She’d met more than her share of men who wouldn’t have dared admit any type of weakness. It was nice to meet an honest man.
“I’VE COME to the conclusion I wasn’t the one having a problem with the sailboard,” Zach told Ginna over dinner. They were tucked away in one corner of the hotel’s Chinese restaurant. “It was the sailboard. It was definitely possessed by an evil spirit, and I was the idiot who had to battle it.”
“So you’re thinking if you try a different sailboard, you won’t have the problem you had with that one,” she guessed.
“I’m not sure it would be a good idea.” He moved his rice around on his plate. “Second time around, I might push my luck, get too cocky and really get hurt.”
“You’re afraid that sailboard will kick your butt,” Ginna said bluntly.
Zach winced at her candid, and all too realistic, assumption.
“That, too,” he admitted. “Death by sailboard isn’t my idea of a suitable epitaph.”
She used her chopsticks to corral a piece of ginger chicken. “Don’t worry, my brothers wouldn’t be able to do it, either. They’re happy as clams on a football or baseball field and can do their worst on a basketball court. Anything to do with water is way out of their scope. Even Denny could beat them at water polo,” she muttered, choosing a water chestnut next.
“Denny?”
Ginna grimaced. “My ex-husband,” she explained. “I usually refer to him as the scum formerly known as Denny. Even if it’s because of him I was able to take this trip.”
“He wanted you out of the state and sent you here?” Zach asked.
“If he wanted me out of the state, he’d send me to the Amazon jungle, since he knows how much I hate bugs and snakes,” she said. “About a month before we got divorced, he cleaned out a bank account that was in my name only. He claimed the money was his. I took him to court. One of my clients works on one of the TV court shows. When she heard I was planning to sue, she suggested I apply to the show. As a result, we ended up on camera. He looked like a total idiot, which wasn’t too difficult. The judge saw what an idiot he was, awarded me not only the money he took but punitive damages, since he kept saying he had the right to take the money.” She looked embarrassed. “Not one of the finer points in my life. So what about you? Any ex-wives?”
Zach shook his head. “I was married for six years, but my wife died four years ago,” he said in a low voice. “Complications from surgery.”
The way it was explained to him was that she basically bled to death. They couldn’t control the hemorrhaging even when they performed a hysterectomy in hopes of stopping the heavy flow. But it was too late. Cathy only saw her babies for a few seconds after they were born. She didn’t even have a chance to discuss their ideas for names. In the end he took the names that were at the top of the list. Names written in Cathy’s delicate script.
Ginna’s expression softened. She reached across the table and covered his hand with hers.
“I am so sorry,” she said softly. “I can’t imagine what you went through. I bet she was special.”
“She was,” he said. “She was an artist. She liked to work in pastels. Chalks. She’d create these incredible landscapes and seascapes that seemed to leap out at you. I wouldn’t have thought someone working with chalk could come up with anything so powerful, but she managed to do it.”
“Denny’s talent was that he could burp ‘Jingle Bells’ and crush a beer can against his forehead,” she told him. “I’d say you definitely had the better deal. I was really into my stupid period when I met him. He seemed adorable in a Neanderthal way. I was blind to his faults, and by the time I realized what a major mistake I’d made, we were married. Since I was brought up to face my mistakes, I decided to make the best of it. Which didn’t work out at all. My parents wanted to throw a party the day I told them I filed for divorce. My dad declared I’d finally come to my senses.”
“But it was still hard on you,” Zach guessed. “Because you saw it as a failure.”
“I wanted a marriage like my parents,” she conceded. “But that meant meeting someone who had the same ideals I did. And Denny didn’t have them. He wanted things that weren’t possible.” For a moment pain flashed across her face. “And when he couldn’t get them, he blamed me.” Her words ended on a bare whisper.
“Because it was easier than blaming himself.” Now he was offering the comfort. “We guys are pretty bad about things like that. If he screwed things up between you, it wasn’t because of you. It was all him.”
“I don’t think his new wife would say that.” She laughed softly. “But thank you.”
“I bet you wished you’d given him a lousy haircut,” he said in hopes of lightening the atmosphere.
“I was tempted to offer to give him a haircut, then shave something on the back of his head. ‘Kick me’ seemed like a good idea.”
“Oh, come on, with a little thought you could have come up with something better,” he teased.
“Only if I could have insured he’d be arrested the minute he stepped outside.” She trapped another piece of chicken with her chopsticks. “Wow, how did we fall into such a heavy subject?”
“It wasn’t easy, but we somehow accomplished it.�
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“You never did say what type of column you write,” she pressed. “Do I get a hint?”
“A men’s column,” he replied.
Ginna nodded. “Sports? Tools? Cars?”
“Single men in today’s world.” He opted to give her an edited answer.
“Isn’t it pretty simple what single guys do in today’s world? They hang out in sports bars where they talk about sports, tools and cars,” Ginna said. “Not to mention they talk about women, but that’s a given.”
“Just as women get together and talk about men,” he countered.
She inclined her head in silent agreement. “We do have that nasty habit of dissecting the male gender. But you men stand around moaning and groaning all the time that you don’t understand us. When all it would take to understand us is to sit there and listen to what we have to say.” She stabbed the air with her chopsticks for emphasis.
“But do you always give us the four-one-one we need to understand you?” he argued, using the slang term for information.
Ginna rolled her eyes. “Hello!” she sang out. “Let me give you an excellent example.” She closed her eyes in thought, her chin resting in her cupped hand. Her eyes popped open. “Denny’s and my sixth-month anniversary. I spent the day at the spa getting gorgeous because we were going to go out for dinner. Wore the slinky dress and everything. Denny comes home from work and asks why I’m so dressed up. Oh, sure, it’s our sixth-month anniversary, and yeah, we’re going out to dinner. But his idea of dinner was a hot dog at a hockey game.”
“Wow, I’m impressed,” Zach said with mock reverence. “Not many guys would consider feeding you first.”
She shot him a fierce glare that experience had taught him only a woman can give.
“What about your sixth-month anniversary?”
Zach got an edgy hunted look.
“I thought we were talking about you,” he muttered, refusing to meet her eyes.
“And now we’re focusing on you. So give.” Her brilliant blue eyes turned steely.
Zach looked away, mumbled something, then quickly returned to his food. He stabbed at a piece of beef with his fork.
“Zach, tell me.”
He mumbled again.
“Excuse me?”
He blew out a breath. “Fine.” He snapped off the word like an icicle. “I bought her a new washer.”
“A washer,” Ginna repeated. “As in optional second rinse, dual agitator, heavy-duty-load capacity washer?”
“Yes,” he grudgingly admitted.
“And I thought my night at the hockey game was bad,” she mused. “At least Denny bought me a T-shirt.”
“It was a top-of-the-line washer,” Zach huffily informed her.
“Which means the salesperson suckered you in to buying more than you needed,” she translated. “And what did she say about her oh-so-romantic gift?”
Zach looked as if he wished he was anywhere but there. “I thought she was hinting for a new washer because she kept talking about my clothes. What she was saying was that if I didn’t start picking up my dirty clothing and tossing it in the hamper where it belonged, she’d throw it in a bucket and add bleach. Instead, I lost four perfectly good shirts to a bleach-filled washer.”
“I wish I’d thought of that.” She pantomimed writing on her hand. “Definitely something to write down and keep for future reference. You didn’t buy a new dryer, too?”
“We got a new one a few months later.” He looked as if he wanted to chew nails.
“Oh, the nine-month anniversary. Good idea.” She said it as if it wasn’t.
“It was practical.”
“This from the man who writes a column for single men? What do you suggest they give a woman who’s going on a first date with them? A pipe wrench?”
“No, actually, I go with the tire-pressure gauge,” he said, deadpan.
“Zach, Zach, Zach—” she shook her head “—I do hair for a lot of single women who are preparing for their first date. Their routine is simple. Hair done in a deceptively casual style that doesn’t look styled at all. Hands paraffin-dipped, nails manicured and feet pedicured. Sometimes even a facial and massage. They walk out looking gorgeous. And what happens when their date picks them up? He tells her, hopefully, that she’s beautiful and hands her a tire-pressure gauge, instead of flowers? Not a good idea. I can tell you now if a man brought me something like that, he’d be informed just where that tire gauge could go, and I don’t mean in a tire, either.” She waved her hands for emphasis. “I can see I have my work cut out here.”
“Work?”
“Of course!” She laughed. “On how to be the perfect sensitive man. You forget, I listen to women all day long. And I am a woman. If anyone can set you on the right path, it’s me.”
The piece of beef Zach tried to swallow seemed to have grown in size.
“Why do I feel as if you’re going to throw me into the deep end without a life preserver?”
“You can do it.” Ginna patted his hand. She grabbed a morsel of her chicken and held it in front of his lips. “Lesson number one—just nibble,” she purred softly.
“Something tells me this lecture series will be the death of me.” He obediently followed her instruction.
“Only if you don’t listen to the teacher,” she cooed, this time taking a piece of chicken for herself. She nibbled on her jasmine rice. “Home appliances are not romantic. You need to be careful with flowers in case the lady in question is allergic. Candy isn’t always a good idea because so many women are watching their weight. But one lovely chocolate rose could be a good idea. Or a silk one. Teddy bears are cute, but make sure they’re cute-looking teddy bears, not just generic ones.”
Zach frowned. “You must date a lot.”
Ginna shook her head. “I just do a lot of hair and women talk about dates, where they went and so on. And if it’s a bad date, I still get every detail. Sometimes more than I ever wanted to know.” She leaned over the table to confide, “One thing to tell your readers? Revealing you’re wearing edible underwear is a big no-no.”
Zach realized he had in front of him a wealth of information about the opposite sex. And what could turn out to be interesting tidbits for his column. His agent had suggested he do more than write about a single father’s life, more about a dad’s life beyond the kids.
It didn’t hurt that he was strongly attracted to her.
It wasn’t difficult when he looked at her with her hair held back from her forehead with a multicolored scarf, the vivid colors of a sunset echoed in the simple sleeveless dress she wore.
“Maybe I should take notes,” he commented in a low husky voice that implied he wouldn’t mind doing much more than merely taking notes.
“I have an idea you’re one of those pupils who learns quickly.” She smiled back, as caught up in the flirtation as he was. “This is the first time someone’s been interested in anything other than my skill with hair.”
“That I can’t believe,” he argued amiably. “You’re breath-stoppingly beautiful.”
“Breath-stoppingly beautiful?” She laughed. “You do have a way with words, Zach. I could have used you in middle school when I was taller than most of the boys and skinny as a rail.”
“Sorry, at that age I was the typical male teen who didn’t look at a girl unless she was amply endowed. Namely, anyone with a D cup.”
“Ah, a breast man,” she said sagely. “Two of my brothers are breast men, the other strictly a leg man. His fantasy is dating either a hosiery model or a Las Vegas showgirl.”
“You can’t fault a man for having attainable goals,” he pointed out.
She nodded. “True. I thought the basketball-team captain was cute. And he was taller than me, which made it even better.”
“But?” He knew there had to be more to the story.
“But—” she drew the word out “—my brothers thought he was a jerk. They told him if he even looked at me, they’d make sure he didn’t play basketba
ll again. I gave two of my brothers a black eye and the other one got ratted out for sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night.”
“So you’re one of those who gets even, instead of mad,” Zach said.
“You betcha.” She picked up her fortune cookie and broke it open. She pulled out the narrow strip of paper and crunched down on her cookie while she scanned the fortune. She tossed the paper onto her plate and reached for Zach’s cookie.
“That happens to be my cookie,” he said. “My fortune.”
“I didn’t like mine. Maybe yours is better. But you can have the cookie back.” Ginna wrinkled her nose. “Yours isn’t much better.”
Zach reached across the table and picked up her fortune. “‘Your future is like the grains of sand on the desert,”’ he read. “This is bad.”
“No kidding and yours wasn’t much better.” She held the paper up. “‘Watching the clock will only slow down time even more.’ They’re almost depressing.”
Zach took care of the bill while Ginna excused herself. When she returned, he noticed her lipstick had been reapplied. She slipped her arm through his.
“Another walk on the beach?” he asked.
“I’d love to.” Her smile warmed him more than the sun.
As they walked along the beach, they passed other couples out enjoying the evening. The farther they walked, the fewer people they ran across, until they were the only ones.
“Look behind you,” Ginna said, spinning around. “It’s as if we’re suddenly the only people on earth. You can’t see the lights from the hotel or even hear the music from the lounge. Our music is the sound of the waves, and the only light comes from the moon.” She waved an arm to encompass their surroundings.
“I couldn’t be stranded with a better companion. Just think of all the tutoring you could do.”
Her hand reached for his and lightly squeezed it. “You’d be a real Romeo by the time I finished.”
Zach kept hold of her hand and turned her to face him.
“We’re alone now,” he murmured, caressing the delicate planes of her face with his fingertips. He lowered his head and easily found her mouth. She moved closer, sliding one hand up his arm until it reached his neck. Her fingers curved around his nape, keeping him there.
