“And never tell a woman she looks fat,” Bernardo added. “Even if she says she has to go on a diet.” He frowned. “Every time a woman goes on a diet, you end up on one, too.”
Adam, who was seated next to him, slapped Bernardo’s gut. “You need to be on a diet, dude.”
“Hey, don’t do that to a man!” Bernardo rubbed his middle. “That’s how Houdini died. Anyway, I am on a diet. Remember?” he said as he helped himself to another one of the cookies Adam had brought.
“Yeah, I can tell,” Adam said, looking in disgust at Bernardo’s pudgy gut. “Doesn’t your wife ever wonder why you’re not losing any weight?”
“I am losing weight,” said Bernardo. “I’m doing it slow.”
“So, you just go up to someone and say, ‘You look nice’?” Jonathan asked, bringing them back to the subject at hand. Pretty boring. He liked the lines he’d read in his novels better.
“Dress it up a little,” Vance said. “Be creative. And concentrate on one thing, like her eyes.” He demonstrated, lowering his voice. “I could get lost in those eyes of yours.”
“Why, thank you,” Bernardo said in a high falsetto and batted his lashes, making Adam and Kyle snicker.
Jonathan shook his head. “I’d feel like an idiot saying stuff like that.”
Vance shrugged. “Women like it.”
If women liked it, then men should say it. Jonathan stood in front of his bathroom mirror later that night and practiced. “I like your hair....” No, wait. That was dull. “Your hair, it looks like, um...” He thought of Lissa. “Spun gold. Like honey pouring down.” Okay, that was good. It was true, too. He tried a second line. “Has anyone ever told you that you have enchanting eyes?” Oh, that was another good one. He smiled in the mirror and tried out his favorite line, culled from one of his novels. “Look at you. I could do it all night.” Oh, yeah. That was a killer.
The next time he was at Bavarian Brews he tried a bit of flattery on Jenni, just to see if it would work. “Seeing you, I almost forgot what I came in for.” He’d thought that one up all on his own and it was an excellent line, if he did say so himself.
Her cheeks turned pink and she smiled as if he’d given her chocolate. “Aw, Jonathan, that’s sweet.”
“I like your hair,” he added.
“Really? I just got it cut,” she said.
He hadn’t noticed that. He made a mental note to be more observant. “Uh, yeah.”
Now Jennie was looking at him speculatively, as if he might be good date material. He didn’t want to lead her on; that wouldn’t be right. He placed his order and moved away. Obviously flattery was powerful magic and should be used sparingly.
“Pretty smooth, computer man,” said a low voice behind him.
Todd Black, the king of smooth. A whoosh of embarrassment carried away Jonathan’s suave. He turned. “Uh, hi, Todd.”
“I like the new look, man. Who are you out to impress?” He nodded in Jenni’s direction. “Should I take a guess?”
“No, no. I was only...” Practicing. “Being nice.”
“A word of caution,” Todd said quietly. “Don’t be too nice. Women take it the wrong way and then you’re in deep shit.”
So he’d just realized. He decided he’d better go back to practicing his lines in the mirror.
* * *
Kyle walked out of Ted Darrow’s office feeling like he was ten feet tall, Ted’s words ringing in his ears. “You’ve really been going the extra mile lately, Kyle. We’ve got a new position opening up in claims. I want you to apply for it.”
That had been damned nice of Darrow. Maybe jealousy had led Kyle to misjudge him. Maybe Darrow wasn’t such a bad guy, after all. Just as he was seeing his supervisor in a new light, Ted Darrow was obviously seeing him differently, too.
Well, he was seeing himself in a new way. These days he walked taller (even without the heightening shoes, which sat abandoned in his closet). He looked the bosses in the eye and smiled, volunteered for projects, even suggested ways the company could improve, like going to a paperless filing system. He supposed it all boiled down to confidence, and he knew who he had to thank for that. He could hardly wait to tell her.
“Hi, Kyle,” Jillian said as he passed her desk. “Good news?”
Her voice had been pure silk and she was giving him the kind of flirtatious smile she used to give Darrow. Now, that was interesting. “Maybe,” he said, and kept walking.
“Okay, spill,” Mindy said as he tried to settle back down at his computer. “What was that all about?”
“I’ll tell you at lunch,” he promised.
“You’d better,” she said with a smile.
Funny things, smiles. They could be fueled by any number of motives. Sometimes they meant a woman was happy. Other times, as in Jillian’s case, they meant she was after something. Or someone. Someone who could give her something.
He sent up a little prayer. Thanks, God, for not letting me have the woman I wanted.
* * *
“Why am I not surprised?” Mindy said when he shared his news with her at lunch.
“I don’t know. Why?”
She leaned over and kissed him. “Because you deserve it. You’re great and they’re lucky to have you.”
“And I’m lucky to have you,” he said. “How about coming to my class reunion with me? I want to show you off.”
“Yeah? Even though I’m not tall and blonde?”
“Blondes are overrated. I prefer short girls,” Kyle said, earning himself a kiss. “So, you wanna go?”
“Of course. Otherwise, some other woman might steal you.”
No chance of that but Kyle decided he wasn’t going to disillusion her.
* * *
“Mindy’s going with me to the reunion,” Kyle announced at poker night.
“There’s a shock,” Jonathan said, trying not to be jealous. How he wished that, like Kyle, his love life was all sewed up.
“You’ve gotta go, Jon,” Kyle said. “I mean, the new clothes, the new muscle. That’s what you’ve been doing it for, isn’t it?”
Jonathan shrugged. He was glad he’d kept his mouth shut about Lissa, glad he hadn’t committed to attending the damned reunion. He’d paid his money but that didn’t mean he had to go. A guy could change his mind—and that was exactly what he’d done. After what he’d learned earlier that day about Rand, he was glad.
“And what’s the point of reading all those romance novels if you aren’t gonna put some of that into play?” Kyle continued.
“Reunions,” Vance said. “They’re such a bunch of B.S. People never go because they want to see their old pals. They go because they want to show off or prove something.”
Or get someone, Jonathan thought.
“So I guess you never went to any of yours,”
Adam said.
“Oh, yeah. I went to my ten-year. Met my old girlfriend there. Married her six months later.” Vance shook his head. “I never should have gone.”
And if that wasn’t confirmation that Jonathan had made the right decision, he didn’t know what was. So much for the new clothes and glasses. So much for sweating at the gym. Damn Rand Burwell, anyway.
“I guess he’s divorced now,” Tina had said when she gave Jonathan the revised list—with Rand’s name at the top—to put up on the webpage. Good old Rand was free as a bird and coming to the reunion.
Jonathan had been in a foul mood ever since. “Are we gonna play cards or what?”
The other guys looked at him in surprise. “Sure,” Adam said. “Ante up, dudes.”
That was the end of the conversation for the night, but Kyle lingered after everyone else had left. “Okay, what’s up with you?”
“Nothing,” Jonathan snapped.
“Wait a minute. You just updated the reunion webpage, didn’t you?”
“So?”
“So what happened to piss you off? Who’s coming?” Jonathan could tell by his friend’s expression that he’d answered
his own question. Sure enough. “Oh. Rand.”
“Yeah, Rand.”
Kyle frowned. “Well, so what? This isn’t high school and you’re not the same person you were back then. Heck, you’re not the same person you were three months ago. Are you gonna let Rand intimidate you?”
As a matter of fact, yes.
“I’ll bet he’s got a gut on him now. Probably losing his hair, too,” Kyle threw in for extra measure.
“Not according to the picture he sent.”
“Oh. Well, what do you care? Rand’s not competition for you anymore.” Kyle’s face clouded. “Wait a minute. There wasn’t someone you were hoping to hook up with, was there?”
“No.” He could feel his cheeks heating. Where was his poker face when he needed it?
Kyle pointed an accusing finger at him. “Lissa.”
Jonathan tried to cover up his embarrassment with bluster. “There’s nobody I want to see. All those people are a bunch of fatheads.”
“Except Lissa. You always had the hots for her. Damn it all, Jon, I thought you’d kicked that habit.”
“I did,” Jonathan muttered.
“Yeah, I can tell. Come on, buddy, don’t do this to yourself. You’re in la-la land, just like I was with Jillian.”
Well, he liked it in la-la land. He busied himself putting away the cards and poker chips.
“Okay, so you’ve still got it bad for Lissa. I think you’re nuts, but okay,” Kyle said. “Then what are you doing running away like a nerd chicken because Rand’s coming? I heard he’s married. He’ll probably have the wife in tow.”
Jonathan shook his head. “He’s divorced. He’ll be out looking for someone to hook up with.” And they both knew what that meant.
“I still think you should go,” Kyle said.
That was the last thing he wanted to do—go to the reunion and watch Rand and Lissa hook up again.
“If you don’t, you’re just giving her to him on a silver platter,” Kyle said. “But hey, it’s your life,” he added, and left.
Yes, it was. And if he wanted to give up and be alone and miserable, he could.
He put the beer bottles in the recycle bin, then went to bed. He had a half-finished Vanessa Valentine paperback lying on his nightstand. He ignored it, turned out the light and rolled over. Screw Vanessa Valentine. Screw Rand. Screw the reunion. Screw everyone and everything. And with those pleasant thoughts, he drifted off to sleep.
Where he dreamed once more that he was at the Icicle Falls High reunion. This time they were all at the dining hall at the Icicle Creek Lodge and he was a waiter, serving everyone. A waiter dressed in a clown suit. Bearing a silver platter under a big silver dome, he came to where Rand sat yukking it up with Feron Prince and Cam Gordon. He bent over Rand and lifted the lid to reveal a miniature Lissa, laid out like a roast pig with an apple in her mouth.
“All right,” Rand said, rubbing his hands together. “Just what I’ve been wanting. Thanks, Jonathan.”
He took the apple out of Lissa’s mouth and she looked beseechingly at Jonathan and cried in a tiny voice, “Help, Jonathan! Save me!”
He awoke with a start, sat up and blinked. What the heck was that?
Last call for the reunion, that was what.
Okay, he was going.
Chapter Nineteen
Class of 1998 Reunion Schedule of Events (Welcome, Grizzlies!)
Friday, 5:00–7:00 p.m.
Cocktail party at Icicle Creek Lodge,
followed by dinner
Saturday, 9:00 a.m.
Grizzly Girls breakfast at Breakfast Haus
followed by shopping
Saturday, 9:00 a.m.
Grizzly golf tournament at the
Mountain Meadows Golf Course
Saturday, 12:00–4:00 p.m.
Grizzly grub picnic at Riverwalk Park
Saturday 8:00 p.m.–midnight
Dance at Festival Hall
Sunday, 10:00 a.m.–12:00 p.m.
Farewell brunch at Icicle Creek Lodge
The third weekend in August had finally arrived. This was it. Jonathan was scrubbed and shaved and dressed to kill in new shoes (dark loafers, no socks), jeans with a hip shirt, tie and a white linen blazer. He nudged his glasses in place, even though they already were perfectly settled on his nose, and examined himself in the mirror. His chest had broadened and he was now sporting a six-pack under his shirt. Or the beginnings of one, anyway. Maybe he could survive this.
Of course he could survive this. He had a new look and a smooth tongue.
And a red rose he’d picked from his mother’s garden to give Lissa. He’d considered a number of memorable romantic gestures he could make. His first thought had been to hang a banner over the door of the Icicle Creek Lodge proclaiming Welcome, Lissa. Except he’d decided Tina would probably take it down, not wanting to single out anyone in particular (unless it was herself). Anyway, he’d tried the anonymous gesture before, back in high school, and that had backfired. If he was going to do something romantic, he needed to make sure he got the credit for it. He’d also thought of having the band play a special song just for her. This goes out to Lissa from Jonathan. That had seemed like a good idea when it first struck, but the more he’d mulled it over, the less he’d liked it. It made him think of people sitting at home at night, listening to the radio. Play Misty for Me. He’d seen that old movie on the classics channel, and he didn’t want to do anything that might come across as psycho. Hiring a limo and picking her up to take her to the first event? What if she’d made plans to go with a girlfriend? Or Rand. (There was a depressing thought.) In the end he’d settled on the rose. It was tasteful and classy. Like the new him.
Chica, who’d been watching him, followed him out the front door, whining.
“Sorry,” he told her. “This is a human party. You can’t come.”
He gave her head a good rub and in return she gave his hand a little nip that might or might not have been playful.
“You stay here and guard the house. Okay?”
She lay down on the porch with a groan.
“I’ll be back,” he said. Hopefully, not until late.
Rose in hand, he climbed into his Volkswagen Beetle and made the short drive to the Icicle Creek Lodge. Tina and her decorating crew had gone all out. Across the front door hung a banner that said Welcome Home, Class of 1998. Once inside the lodge, he saw flowers and balloons everywhere in their school colors of red and gold. A few people were chatting in the lobby—he recognized Bobby Burns, basketball star, and his pal John Corallo, as well as April Anderson, who’d been president of the Grizzly Girls.
He ducked past them and followed the noise to the dining hall, which was packed with tables covered with linen tablecloths and fancy settings, and people standing about, already enjoying drinks and reminiscing. His heart rate began to pick up. He forced himself to walk into his past.
Feron Prince seemed to be six inches taller than the last time Kyle had seen him and had bulked up even more. No beer belly there. At his side stood a woman who looked like Beyonce’s kid cousin. The huge rock on her finger said they belonged together. Next to him, Cam Gordon stood with a drink in his hand. Cam hadn’t weathered the past fifteen years as well as Feron. His hair was thinning and he was starting to grow a gut. But the clothes he wore said he’d also been growing his bank account. Two other former jocks joined them. Jonathan could feel the waves of testosterone coming at him. He turned his gaze in a different direction.
In another part of the room, several women were gathered around Daphne Robard, laughing hysterically. Another group of women nearby included Heidi Schwartz, who was showing off a picture on her phone, probably of her kid. He wished he had something, anything, to show off.
He started to pass another group of chatting women. One of them looked appreciatively at him and waved him over. It was Tessa Newton. She’d been a cheerleader.
“Hi, there,” she greeted him. “Are you here with someone?”
; “Uh, no.” Oh, boy. Great way to be suave. He tried again. “Just here by myself, looking for pretty ladies.” That sounded dumb.
Dumb or not, Tessa ate it up. She grinned at him, revealing a dimple. “I’m Tessa.” She held out a hand for him to shake.
Of course she didn’t recognize him. He was tempted to be a smart mouth. I’m Jason Bourne. Instead, he opted for politeness and took her hand. “You probably don’t remember me. I’m Jonathan Templar.”
“J-Jonathan?” she stammered.
He smiled at that. It looked like clothes did, indeed, make the man.
She blinked, obviously trying to line up what she was seeing with the image she had stored in her memory bank.
“Nice seeing you, Tessa.” Not really. He moved on.
“Jonathan, hi.”
He turned to see a guy in slacks and a button-down shirt waving at him. He’d lost the specs but he was still as skinny as ever. Darrell Hornsby, one of his old chess club buddies. Jonathan smiled, happy to see a friendly face. And who was that standing next to the friendly face? He gasped at the curvy brunette in the clingy black dress. She resembled a movie star. Or a high-class hooker. What was she doing with Darrell?
Jonathan moved over to where they stood and said hello.
“You look good,” Darrell said, taking in Jonathan’s new clothes. “What happened?”
“Darrell!” the woman chided in soft tones.
“Oh, sorry. I mean, well, gosh, you look good.”
“Thanks.” All his hard work had been worth it. Now, if only Lissa would notice. Where was she?
“Meet Bridget,” Darrell said.
“Hi, Bridget.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said, looking him over and smiling. “Darrell’s told me a lot about you.”
What was there to tell? “Uh, really?” Smooth. Jonathan got in touch with his inner Todd Black. “Well, I can see why he didn’t tell me anything about you. I wouldn’t want to share, either, if you were mine.” Not that he’d seen Darrell or talked to him in the past five years but it sounded nice.
It sounded nice to Bridget, too. She beamed at him. Oh, yeah. He had his suave on. He could do this.
What She Wants Page 24
