by Carsen Taite
“What a relief.” Mac glimpsed something in Jordan’s face that seemed at odds with her casual banter. She considered asking her friend if she’d had contact with her father lately, but decided now was not the time to broach the subject.
The subject of Dr. Jacob Wagner, a prominent Dallas plastic surgeon, was a sore spot. Jordan hadn’t always been the devil-may-care, successful woman who sat across from her now. She’d taken the loss of her mother very hard and was angry with her father for choosing to be the kind of physician who focused on making people look good rather than the kind who cured disease. Even after making the same professional choice herself, she didn’t seem able to reach out to him, and they still hadn’t repaired the damage to their relationship.
Observing from the outside, Mac found the similarities between father and daughter completely obvious. They’d both chosen work that allowed them to experience constant success, rather than other forms of medicine, such as oncology, where successes were measured in the smallest of accomplishments.
They’d both been grief-stricken at the loss of someone vital to their lives and had closed their emotions off, turning away from each other. Mac thought the rift between them was tragic, but she tiptoed around the subject because Jordan never wanted to discuss it.
She glanced at her friend. Jordan seemed lost in thought, her expression faraway. Ignoring the quick change in her mood, Mac sucked down the last of her frozen salvation and stood up. “Ready?”
“Sure.” Jordan rose immediately and picked up their trash.
Dropping it in the bin, she said, “I suppose I must seem like an ‘older woman’ to her.”
“You’re not still thinking about that, are you?” Mac marveled.
“You’re right. I shouldn’t let it get under my skin.” Jordan sounded irritated. “Let’s go.”
They exchanged a few words about which route to take back around the lake, then walked their bikes back to the trail in silence. Parts of the trail were in disrepair, neglected in the city’s priorities. To avoid a bumpy ride, they took a road that wound around part of the lake’s circumference. Even light car traffic made the road more dangerous than the designated trail, but the trade-off for a smooth ride was worthwhile, especially at the end of a long ride when comfort was at a premium.
The last few miles, Mac thought about the clerk’s assumption. She felt stung by Jordan’s reaction. Why was she so appalled that they’d been mistaken for a couple? Mac could easily see how someone could make that assumption; they were such close friends, their bond was obvious. Still, she felt a little insulted that Jordan was so dismissive. I’m not a bad catch, she thought. Actually, she was great girlfriend material.
She wasn’t bad-looking. She owned a successful business.
And she was available.
In fact, Jordan could do a lot worse.
Shannon reached across the candlelit table and grasped her lover’s hand. Looking deep into Dylan’s eyes, she confessed, “It may sound crazy, but I knew I was in love with you at first glance. You stirred feelings deep inside, feelings I thought I was no longer capable of having.”
A knock at the door tore Mac from the pages of Lost Lives, Lost Loves, and Sally Gannon poked her head in. “They’re all here, Mac. If you’re in the middle of something, I can start without you.”
“No, I’m ready. I’ll meet you at the bar in a few minutes.”
The Lakeside always employed additional wait staff during the busy summer months, and with school out for summer, lots of college kids were looking for a way to earn some extra bucks. Mac conducted the hire interviews with Sally, preferring to be personally involved in every employment decision in the business. The hardest part was finding folks who were willing to work hard even though the situation wasn’t permanent.
The best shifts always went to the wait staff with the most tenure, meaning the summer add-ons had to work extra shifts to earn equivalent dollars. The trick was to separate the kids who were getting a summer job for the sole reason that their parents didn’t want them lying around the house from those who truly needed the money. The latter motivation made for the best employees.
Mac marked her place and set the novel aside. As she stood up, she gave her calf muscles a quick rub. She was noticeably stiff from yesterday’s long ride around the lake, a fact that bothered her. When she was in her twenties, recovery time was nothing, but that had changed recently, reminding her that she was turning thirty-six in a few months. It was silly to feel anxious about a birthday, but the number was starting to weigh on her. She felt as though she was in a holding pattern, waiting for the next phase of her life to begin. So far, she’d accomplished all the goals she’d set for herself. Education.
Career satisfaction. Financial security. Somehow, she’d expected her other main aim in life, true love, would happen while these routine priorities consumed her time and energy.
A sense of panic gripped her as she let her gaze roam the bookshelves. She’d spent the past fifteen years reading about romance instead of living it. She’d assumed Ms. Right would walk into her world and sweep her off her feet. It seemed so simple. But where was she? What if another fifteen years passed with no sign of her? Mac didn’t want to “settle” because she was afraid of being alone. She knew people who’d done that and she’d never understood their choice until now. But a strange desperation was creeping up on her. She worried that she could make a terrible mistake, that the woman of her dreams would cross her path and she would be so busy working and reading romances that she wouldn’t notice her until it was too late.
As she closed her office door, she promised herself that from now on she would take the search for love much more seriously. She would stop ruling out possibilities and making excuses not to meet women. Her future wife was out there somewhere and Mac intended to find her.
“What exactly do you do?” asked gorgeous date number one, Rebeca Blixen, personal trainer at Images, the newest athletic club in Oak Lawn. Thus far their conversation had been confined to the usual “what are your favorite Dallas hot spots?” and “what do you like to do for a good time?”
standards.
“Plastic surgery.” Jordan paused, ready for the reaction this announcement usually inspired.
Rebeca walked right into it. “Oh, do you work for a surgeon?”
“You could say that, as I’m self-employed.”
This response hung in the air for a moment and Jordan enjoyed every second as she watched realization dawn.
Rebeca’s puzzled frown settled into a grin matching her own. “So, how does it feel to be your own boss?”
Pleased the discussion didn’t immediately turn to one thousand and one predictable questions about life as a plastic surgeon, Jordan decided a little substantive conversation with this attractive woman wouldn’t kill her. As they exchanged the basics about each other over plates of sushi, she found herself actually enjoying Rebeca’s company. She’d been pleased to learn that Rebeca lived in one of the newer loft buildings downtown. Her proximity made the whole date-planning thing go much more smoothly. Jordan had picked her up in front of her building and driven them three blocks to a favorite Tex-Asian fusion restaurant in the historic Dallas Power & Light Building. Fuse served excellent cocktails on a rooftop patio with padded bamboo loungers, candlelight, fountains, and even a Jacuzzi for truly adventurous patrons. It was the perfect atmosphere for the opening scene of what Jordan had planned to be a very sensuous evening, provided her date was all she appeared to be.
As she appraised her companion one more time, she wondered why anyone bothered with an online dating service.
She could easily pick up the women she wanted at the local haunts with a lot less effort, and at least then she would get to appraise their potential before committing to a full evening.
Rebeca aka Malibu was a looker, that was for sure, but she could have been a dog. Athletic build with nicely proportioned female curves, shoulder-length blond hair, sea green eyes looking for nothing
more than fun times with attractive women—tempting bait in a trap set for online date-seekers.
But if none of the posted promises had turned out to be true, Jordan would be stuck here waiting for an opportune moment to cut their evening short. Fortunately Rebeca had been telling the truth.
Despite her luck up to this point, Jordan couldn’t help but think that she should have proposed an alternative when Aimee had suggested this online nonsense. She had nothing to prove, so she didn’t need to jump in as if she were a teenager unable to resist a dare. This solitary electronic pursuit of the perfect mate required a lot of up-front communication followed by dates that involved actual planning. It would have been easier, and certainly more fun, to roam the local hot spots with Mac.
They were looking for different things in the women they pursued, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t look together, in person. Besides, Mac could probably use some quick, mindless connections to give her love life a jump start during the more complicated pursuit of a soul mate. She should make Mac join her at Sue Ellen’s, her favorite Oak Lawn bar, for a night of dancing and cruising.
Picturing Mac surrounded by attractive women, all vying for her attention, Jordan suddenly felt agitated. Was she jealous?
After all, she was used to being the center of attention. Surely she wouldn’t begrudge her best friend the spotlight.
“Are we having dessert here, or at my place?”
Jordan nearly jumped out of her chair at the silky voice of the woman seated across from her. She stared down at the table and realized their plates had been cleared and she was too preoccupied to notice.
Rebeca’s hand landed on hers. “Did I startle you?”
“Only a little.” Jordan covered hastily for her inattention.
“I confess. You caught me planning my next move.”
“I’d like to see some of your moves. Should we go back to my place?”
“I’m ready if you are.” Jordan let a slow smile slide across her face and signaled for the waiter for the check.
A few minutes later, as they waited for the valet to bring Jordan’s BMW M5 around, Jordan jumped again when Rebeca’s hand crept across her back and come to rest lightly at the side of her breast. “You’re one jumpy gal tonight.” Rebeca held her even closer, teasing, “Or are you this skittish all the time?”
Jordan recovered quickly. “Must be a little sensitive this evening. That’s not a bad thing, is it?”
“Not for what I have in mind.” Rebeca winked at the valet, who held open the passenger door while appearing indifferent to every word of this suggestive exchange.
As they drove to Rebeca’s place, Jordan felt a familiar flutter of anticipation. She enjoyed these moments, the build-up of lust before the thrill of touch. She was as sure as she could be, after three glasses of sake, that the sex would be good tonight and there would be no strings attached. They’d both made their positions clear in their e-mails over the past week.
There were no nasty surprises in store for them. This was how it should be, she reflected as they took the elevator to an upper floor of Rebeca’s building, a convenient, satisfying encounter between two adults. What more could she hope for?
Rebeca’s loft was as sleek as its owner. Leather, granite, steel, and hardwoods combined for a striking, modern style with clean lines. At Rebeca’s direction, Jordan settled into a black leather couch in the living room while her hostess opened the liquor cabinet.
“Martini?”
“Sounds great,” Jordan replied.
As Rebeca shook the cocktails, Jordan gave her another thorough checking over. Tall and toned, she looked devastating in a black silk tunic, matching pants, and high-heeled sling-back sandals.
“Tell me why a gorgeous plastic surgeon signed up with an online dating service?” Rebeca asked as she approached.
“Truth?” Jordan took the chilled martini glass she was offered. “A group of us convinced my best friend to sign up.
It was sort of an intervention since she’s married to her work.
We figured going online would help her meet someone. She needed some coaxing, so I agreed to join in. I thought I could show her how easy it is to meet hot women without ever having to leave the office.”
“What’s your friend’s online handle?” Rebeca asked in a conversational tone.
“Laker Gal. Her real name is Mackenzie Lewis. She owns a restaurant, the Lakeside at the south end of White Rock.”
“I love the Lakeside.” Rebeca’s interest seemed more genuine. “Though I’ve never met the owner. Laker Gal…I wonder if I’ve seen her pic online.”
“Oh, I think you’d remember. She’s a beauty.”
“Well, in case I don’t run across her myself, be sure to thank her for me.” Rebeca’s voice was a purr.
Jordan nodded absently and slipped Rebeca’s glass from her hand. After setting it on the end table with her own, Jordan leaned back, stretching her arm along the back of the couch.
Clearly no stranger to the customary signals, Rebeca tucked herself under Jordan’s arm, head tilted back, eyes slightly closed, and lips pouting for a kiss. Tingling with desire, Jordan delivered the sought-after kiss with soft deliberation, trailing her lips up Rebeca’s neck as she ran her fingers through her honey-gold mane. Encouraged by a soft moan, she slid her free hand beneath the silky tunic. The feeling of soft skin enhanced by the supple silk drew a soft gasp of pleasure from her. This was definitely her idea of a good date.
She eased them both off the couch and grasped Rebeca’s hand. As if she had been there many nights before, she led Rebeca through the loft to the Japanese-style platform bed at one end. Silk fell in a heap on the floor and Jordan surveyed Rebeca’s figure with open appreciation. “You are a beauty.”
“Why, thank you, Dr. Wagner. Coming from someone with your specialty, that’s quite a compliment.”
“Please,” Jordan protested, “I’m not at work. I don’t have a grease pen with me and I won’t be performing any diagnostic interviews this evening.”
“You’ve mistaken my level of self-esteem,” Rebeca said.
“I’m proud of how I look. This body is the result of good habits and hard work at the gym. My self-indulgences are limited to activities like the ones we are about to engage in.”
“And what activities are those?” Jordan whispered in Rebeca’s ear as she eased her onto the bed covers.
Reaching for the buttons on the fly of Jordan’s jeans, Rebeca proceeded to demonstrate. “You know my favorite thing about these Lucky Brand jeans? The message I get when I shimmy someone out of them. Right here, inside the fly, it says ‘Lucky You.’ Now, who do you think will be the lucky one tonight?”
Jordan watched the downtown lights dance shadows across the gorgeous woman lying before her. A wave of pleasure washed between her thighs as Rebeca’s fingers traced the message inside her fly, then found their way to the source of her discomfort. Locking lips with the seductive blonde, Jordan kicked off her boots and stepped out of her jeans. The Luckys fell into a heap with the discarded silk.
Rebeca grasped the collar of Jordan’s western-style shirt and yanked down, pulling apart the pearl snaps in one smooth motion. Finding full, naked breasts beneath, she smiled and said, “Enough looking. Get your butt on this bed and let’s have some fun.”
With that proclamation, she urged Jordan down on top of her and eased one of Jordan’s swollen nipples into the warm and ready moisture of her mouth. The sensation sent shock waves through them both, and Jordan paused for just a moment to gaze into Rebeca’s eyes. The hot invitation she saw there was as familiar as it was thrilling. She was desired, and she had the power to give this woman exactly what she wanted. All night long.
CHAPTER SIX
Mac stared at her laptop screen and gave up an exasperated sigh. Did she want to meet NoNonsense aka Charla in person this soon? What kind of message would it send? They hadn’t corresponded long enough to get to anything truly personal, and their e-mail exchan
ges were somewhat stilted. Yet they were fairly interesting. They both liked books and reading. Charla seemed interested in the operations of the restaurant, pointing out that it was very different from her occupation as a telecommunications engineer, whatever the hell that was. Her picture looked okay. She was no beauty queen, but she seemed well groomed and didn’t have any obviously scary physical attributes. Why not give it a go?
Charla,
Would you like to meet for coffee tomorrow morning? Do you know Half Price Books on Northwest Highway? They have a wonderful coffee shop inside. How about we meet there at 10:30
a.m. Sunday?
Looking forward to getting to know you better, Mackenzie Mac conducted a quick review to make sure no egregious spelling or grammar errors marred her message and then hit Send. Sunday morning coffee. The invitation was casual, the location low risk. She closed her laptop, refusing to watch her e-mail account like it was a pot of boiling water.
After a light dinner of creamy avocado summer soup accompanied by a garlic cheese scone, she finally checked her messages. Charla had replied an hour earlier. Her note was brief but positive. She would be there.
Well, that settled it, Mac thought. Now she had to decide what to wear. Instinctively, she picked up the phone and dialed Jordan’s home phone number. After receiving no answer, she tried her cell. As the phone rang, she remembered that Jordan had planned to ask Malibu out for a second date tonight.
Disappointed, she hung up before the switch to voicemail. She had wanted to tell Jordan that she wasn’t a chicken after all and had taken a chance on an online prospect. Not that Jordan cared. She was off hunting on her own.
Mac felt an unidentifiable twinge, but instantly set her unease aside. She could pick out her own clothes; she didn’t need Jordan for everything. Resigned to making a wardrobe choice without her best friend’s advice, she visualized the potential selections in her mind’s eye. Later that night, as she got ready for bed, she laid out a pair of jeans, blue suede shoes, and a short-sleeved light blue hoodie. Casual, but hip, she concluded. Totally appropriate for a coffee date.
