Did he want time alone with her? What was going on with these two? “Would you like to go out to dinner?” Jonathan asked. No matter what was going on, he was determined to be a good host.
“Actually, Vance and I need to discuss a few things,” Vanessa said, and suddenly Vance seemed uncomfortable.
“Uh, okay,” Jonathan said.
What the heck did they need to discuss? Whatever it might be, it was none of his business.
“I’ll bring her by at seven,” Vance promised.
Jonathan had secretly hoped for a chance to talk to her about his situation with Lissa at some point during the day, but shopping had been all-consuming. So it looked like he’d have to wait until later, like the rest of the gang. He hoped she’d have time to solve all their problems.
By quarter to seven, four men, showered, shaved and dressed in their best clothes, waited in Jonathan’s living room for their heroine to arrive.
Bernardo had brought a stack of books for Vanessa to sign for his wife. “Anna’s pissed she didn’t get to come,” he said.
“This isn’t a party. This is serious business,” Adam said. “We need help.”
“Not all of us,” Bernardo informed him.
Vance’s car pulled up outside.
“She’s here,” Jonathan announced, his heart banging like a jackhammer. He pushed his glasses up his nose and started for the door.
“I don’t see her,” Kyle said, looking out the window. “All I see is Vance.”
“What happened to her?” Adam turned to Jonathan in panic. “You were just with her today.”
“Maybe she’s...I don’t know.” Where was she? Jonathan opened the front door and in walked Vance. All by himself.
“Where’s Vanessa?” Jonathan demanded.
“Right here,” Vance said. “You’re lookin’ at her.”
“Real funny,” Adam snapped. “Now, where is she?”
“Like I said, you’re lookin’ at her. I’m Vanessa Valentine.”
Bernardo guffawed. “Right.”
“Yeah, you look just like her,” Kyle added.
Vance walked over to the counter. “Flowers. You shouldn’t have.” He picked up the box of chocolates. “For me? You fellas went all out.”
Jonathan snatched them away. “Those aren’t for you.”
“If they’re for Vanessa, they’re for me.” Vance snatched them back. “I tried to talk you fools out of this, but you wouldn’t listen to me.” He settled in Jonathan’s recliner, opened the box and helped himself to a truffle.
“You can’t be her,” Kyle protested.
“Of course I can. Ever hear of a pen name? Otherwise known as a pseudonym.”
Jonathan felt as though he’d entered a parallel universe. “But the woman at the book signing, the woman we were with all day—”
“Is my younger sister, Valerie,” Vance said, and popped another chocolate in his mouth. “She handles all my publicity and acts as my front woman when I need to make appearances.” He frowned. “She gave me hell for not telling you guys and threatened to tell you herself if I didn’t ’fess up.”
The shock reverberated around the room as the men realized their idol had feet of clay. Big, hairy feet.
Kyle made a face. “You wrote those sex scenes I read? Oh, man. I’m gonna puke.”
“I can’t believe it,” Jonathan said, and sank onto the couch. Except that did explain the fond look she’d given Vance earlier at lunch. No wonder she knew so much about him! “I thought maybe you two had a thing going.”
“You thought I was getting it on with a married woman?” Vance snorted in disgust. “I’ve got standards, you know.”
“Some standards.” Adam pointed a finger at Vance. “All this time, you let us make fools of ourselves, let us think there was actually something to those stupid books.”
Vance lifted his shoulders. “There is.”
Jonathan wanted to walk right over and punch Vance in that smug face of his. Instead, he asked, “How’d you ever get started writing chick books, anyway?”
Vance’s whole face shut down. “None of your business.”
“Yeah, it is,” Adam said. “You made fools of all of us.”
“Nope. You made fools of yourselves.”
“My wife loves your books,” Bernardo said. “I’d really like to know how you got started.”
Vance stared out the window. Finally he said, “My first wife—”
“First wife?” There was more than one?
Vance ignored Jonathan’s outburst. “—she was hell in high heels. The woman was psycho.” He shook his head. “After we got divorced, I vowed never again. But then I met Lydia. She was the sweetest woman—
always happy, always laughing. And she loved romance novels. She started writing one, had her pen name all picked out.”
“Vanessa Valentine,” Jonathan guessed.
“She never got a chance to finish it.”
“Shit,” Adam said in a low voice. “She died?”
Vance nodded. “Breast cancer. Twelve years ago. I finished the book for her. Learned about the business, found an agent. Got it published.” He gave a mirthless chuckle. “Even dedicated it to her—‘For Lyddie. You finally got your happy ending.’”
“But you didn’t stop with that one book,” Jonathan said.
Vance was looking at the woodland scene outside Jonathan’s dining room window and seeing something none of the other men could. “No, I didn’t. I kept going. I decided the best way I could keep her memory alive was to make her a household name.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I got so I liked doing this. Every time I wrote, it felt like she was sitting right there with me. Still does.”
“Ah, now there is a story you should write, amigo,” Bernardo said.
“That’s cool and all, but damn, I thought you owned a bookstore.” Kyle’s tone of voice plainly said he felt cheated.
“I do. I bought it so my kid would have a job.” He shook his head again. “She was a lit major. Not much you can do with that. She runs the store.”
“Was that the woman ringing up sales at the book signing?” Jonathan asked.
“Yeah, that’s her. Emily.”
He never would have figured it out. Other than having similar coloring, she didn’t look anything like Vance. Which was a good thing for her. “But those books... They sound like something a woman would write,” Jonathan said. “How do you do that?”
Vance shrugged. “I ask myself what my wife would do. If I go too far off base my sister pulls me back. She reads everything before I turn it in to my editor. Like I said, you can thank her for getting me here. She thought it was only fair to tell you guys the truth. By the way, we canceled the reservation at the lodge. You’re all getting a refund.”
“Yeah, well, it would’ve been nice if you’d told us a few books back,” Adam growled. “I spent a fortune.”
“Hey, you got a good read out of the deal,” Vance shot back.
“We weren’t buying them for a good read,” Jonathan said. Although he had enjoyed the books.
“Yeah, I know. You all want to learn how to fix your woman problems.”
“That’s a bust,” Adam grumbled.
“Oh, quit your whining. There’s still good information in those books. My sister makes sure of that. And those other books you’ve been reading, those were written by women,” Vance added.
“How do you know?” Adam asked.
“I go to the writers’ conferences with my sister.”
“What, in drag?” Adam demanded.
“No, as her business manager. I’ve met most of the authors.”
Jonathan frowned. “I was hoping for some one-on-one coaching.”
“Me, too,” Adam said grumpily.
Vance shook his head. “You don’t need it. Think of Dorothy.”
Dorothy? Jonathan didn’t remember a Dorothy in any of the Vanessa Valentine novels. “Which one of your books is she in?”
“None. Didn’t you clowns e
ver watch The Wizard of Oz?”
“When I was a kid,” Jonathan said. Where were they going with this?
Vance frowned at their obtuseness. “Come on. The wizard at the end told her she’d always had what she needed to get home. With the number of books you’ve read, you guys have all the information you need to get your women. You just have to use it.”
Adam stared at him. “That’s it? That’s all the help we’re gonna get from the great Vanessa Valentine?”
“It’s all the advice you need. Oh, and try to think like a woman. Now, let’s eat.”
Try to think like a woman. No problem.
Jonathan went to the fridge and pulled out the cream puffs. They were on a fancy plate he’d borrowed from his mother. He set them on the counter. “Here...Vanessa,” he said bitterly.
Vance joined him and slapped him on the back. “Thanks.”
Jonathan frowned. “I really wanted to get some expert advice, not Wizard of Oz crap.”
Vance expelled a long-suffering sigh. “Okay, what do you want to know?”
Jonathan shook his head. Maybe Vance and Vanessa were the same in real life but they sure weren’t in his mind. “Forget it.”
“You’ve been reading those books, taking notes like crazy. I don’t know who you’re after, but whoever she is, you just need to apply what you’ve learned.”
Yeah, and click his ruby shoes together and chant, “There’s no place like home.”
“Pay attention and tell her what she wants to hear—give her what she wants.” Vance poked him in the shoulder. “Don’t give up, kid. You’re on the right track.”
“How do you know? You’re a guy,” Jonathan retorted in frustration.
“I’m not writing this stuff in a vacuum and I’ve been around the block a few times. I know this much—you act like a hero, you’ll get the girl. Love always wins in the end.”
Vance helped himself to a cream puff. “Just remember to find yourself a woman with a big heart, one who looks beyond the cover-model pecs, and you’ll be okay.”
And with that bit of helpful advice, Vanessa Valentine, aka Vance Fish, took his cream puff and walked over to Jonathan’s kitchen table. “Come on, let’s play cards.”
Jonathan would play cards, but he was done gambling for Vanessa Valentine novels.
He didn’t buy a book at the signing at Mountain Escape Books the following day, either. He didn’t even go.
* * *
“I can’t believe it,” his sister said when he showed up for his next dance lesson. “Vanessa Valentine is a man?”
Jonathan nodded glumly. “And I thought maybe I’d learn something about women from those books. Everything the heroes did was bogus.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Juliet said. “Everything they did was right. Romantic and noble.”
“But they’re written by a guy,” Jonathan protested.
“Well, I don’t care if they’re written by a space alien. They’re wonderful books. And those heroes are the kind of men women dream about.” She smiled at Jonathan. “A good man is a good man, no matter who’s telling his story. And not every book you read was written by Vance. Anyway, believe me, if more men would read romance novels, there’d be more happy marriages.”
Uh-oh. Wasn’t Juliet happy?
As if reading his mind, she shook her head at him. “Don’t worry. I’m perfectly happy with Neil. I know sometimes he says dumb things and sometimes I do dumb things, but we always make up. He’d do anything for me, and in the end that’s what counts.” She grinned. “Still, if he’d read a few romance novels, he’d sure get some brownie points.” She sighed. “Why can’t more men be like romance-novel heroes?”
Probably because trying to become one was practically a full-time job. Still, if a guy did the job well, maybe it paid off, Jonathan told himself. After his disappointment over Vanessa Valentine, he’d been ready to pack in this whole romance-hero scheme, but now, listening to his sister, he changed his mind. No matter who was writing this stuff, they knew something he didn’t. Which wasn’t saying a lot.
During their dance lesson, Juliet raved over the progress he was making, and by the time he’d finished, he’d come to two important conclusions. One, although he didn’t have the dancing gene he could overcome his handicap with hard work. And two, if Vance could write a romance so could he, and he was going to write a real-life one. With Lissa.
Chapter Fifteen
On Saturday Adam entered a new shop in downtown Icicle Falls. Crossing the threshold of Oh, Baby was like setting foot on foreign soil—in a place where there were no men. Women in varying stages of pregnancy browsed among doll-clothes-size dresses and tiny football and basketball jerseys. Tables were piled with blankets and sets of what looked like blue and pink long underwear. He saw bonnets, miniature sundresses and shoes that were small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. Babies were so little. How did you handle one without breaking it?
A surge of terror rose in him and swirled into the excitement already present. This was really happening. Was he ready to be a dad? He hadn’t even mastered being a husband.
But he was working on that. People could change. He’d be a better husband and he’d be a great dad, too, one who really deserved that Father’s Day tie.
It seemed appropriate that he was starting his campaign to prove himself a worthy husband and father on Father’s Day weekend. Tomorrow, just like in the book he’d read, he’d lay a gift on Chelsea’s front porch with a note attached. The next day, another would appear with another note and so on until the following Saturday. Then he’d show up and ask her to Zelda’s grand opening night. He’d already made reservations for eight o’clock. Lucky for him he’d called when he had. Charley, who owned the restaurant, told him he’d gotten the last available table.
He hoped this plan worked. If it didn’t he was out of ideas and out of luck.
Where to start? What to get? Everyone in here was staring at him. It was like they were gang members and he’d wandered onto their turf. He looked around and fought the desire to run.
A short brunette who seemed to be in her mid-thirties greeted him. She was the only one, besides him, who didn’t have a bulging belly, which meant she was probably the owner. “Hi. Is there anything I can help you with?”
“I’m having a baby,” he said. Several women smiled and one snickered, making him feel even stupider and more exposed. He might as well have been walking around in his underwear. He cleared his throat. “I want to buy some baby stuff.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” the woman said. “Do you know what you’re having?”
“A baby.” More snickers. “I mean, I don’t know if we’re having a boy or a girl. We just found out.”
“Well, you can probably use almost anything, then,” the woman said.
“I need seven presents,” Adam said. “I want to give my wife one a day.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet,” said a woman who was standing nearby, checking out blankets. She looked like she had a watermelon under her dress.
Oddly enough, she looked kind of sexy. Adam imagined Chelsea with a big belly, a belly growing their baby. He smiled.
“Maybe a mix of necessary basics and fun things?” the shop owner suggested. She picked up something with a bunch of snaps. “How about a Onesie? If you go with a neutral color like green or yellow, you’ll be fine whether it’s a boy or a girl.”
The watermelon woman stepped over, holding a light green blanket that made him think of ice cream. “This would be nice,” she suggested.
“Thanks,” he said. The panic began to subside.
Now another woman was at his side. “Here’s something cute.”
It was a sort of pajama thing—orange with tiger stripes.
“Oh, and you’ll need these,” another woman said, handing him a package of bibs.
Before he knew it, he had an armload of baby things. “I think you met your quota,” the shop owner teased.
All except th
e last present, which had to make a statement. And there it was, sitting on a shelf, beckoning him—a big, blue stuffed elephant. An elephant never forgets. And he wasn’t going to forget the lessons he was learning the hard way. “I’ll take that elephant, too,” he said, pointing to it. “And can you wrap all of these up?”
“Of course,” said the owner. “How about a variety? Some in gift boxes, some in bags?”
“Sure.” He didn’t care how she did it. It all just needed to look nice.
“Your wife’s a lucky lady,” said the watermelon woman, smiling at him.
“No, I’m a lucky man,” he corrected her. He was lucky to have found Chelsea. Now, with a little more luck, maybe he could keep her.
* * *
Father’s Day was still hard for Jonathan. This Father’s Day was especially hard. He kept thinking how proud his dad would have been to see some muscle actually forming on his scrawny son. He could have talked with Dad about Lissa, asked him for advice on how to proceed. Instead, he was going out with his family to Der Spaniard in memory of Dad.
“Your father loved to eat here,” Mom said.
This was hardly a newsflash but sharing it obviously made her feel good, so Jonathan nodded.
“I wish he was still here,” Juliet said, “because this is a very special Father’s Day.”
She was smiling like a woman who’d won a free shopping spree. Happy sister, comment about this being a special Father’s Day—it could mean only one thing. Jonathan didn’t steal her thunder by guessing her news.
Sure enough. She and Neil exchanged sappy grins, then she announced, “We’re pregnant.”
“Oh, darling, that’s wonderful!” her mother cried, and hugged her.
“Congrats, man,” Jonathan said, shaking Neil’s hand.
“Thanks.” Neil was looking like he’d won the Nobel Prize for science.
Jonathan couldn’t blame him. They’d been trying for two years.
Mom dabbed at her eyes with her napkin. “Our first grandchild. Your father would have been over the moon.”
“I’ll be an uncle.” Jonathan smiled. “Uncle Jon. I’ll teach him how to play chess.”
What She Wants Page 19
