But not his. “If you wanted a roll in the hay with me, all you had to do was ask.”
She ignored the laughter in his voice because she had other things to be concerned about. Like getting oxygen.
When she did draw in a breath she wished she hadn’t. “This - isn’t hay, it’s manure! Mrs. Zoranski uses it as fertilizer.” She tried to prop herself up to get a better view of the horticultural damage she’d wrecked. “Oh no, we’ve flattened her iris!”
“Uh, you want to watch where you’re putting those fingers of yours?” Michael drawled. “Before you flatten something else that’s quickly rising to the occasion?”
Her hand was on his thigh, her thumb dangerously close to the fly of his jeans.
If they weren’t resting in stinking fertilizer, she might have been much more tempted to be wicked. As it was, she scrambled to her feet.
Standing there, she looked down at him accusingly. “You make me do stupid things!”
Michael quickly got to his feet as well. “How do you figure any of this was my fault?”
“I don’t know why I even bother speaking to you.”
“I don’t know, either. Especially when you’d much rather be kissing me.”
“That is such a lie—” The last word was muffled as his mouth closed over hers.
They both smelled of manure. Not exactly conducive to an ideal romantic moment. In addition, Rosebud was racing around them, binding them together with her leash. Pam noticed all these things, but only distantly.
Her main focus was on Michael’s tongue teasing her lips until they parted for him. The man could kiss. They’d spent plenty of time in high school making out, just kissing for hours. Oh, yeah, he was a totally primo kisser using just the right amount of tongue thrust—not too much, just enough to make her furious with herself for wanting him after what he’d done to her.
She wasn’t falling for him. This time, she was the one in control. She broke off the kiss to give him hell.
“I came here to tell you to leave me alone.” She slid her hand behind his head and pulled him close to kiss him. “I mean it!” She kissed him again. “Do not think I’m falling into bed with you!” She French-kissed him this time, full frontal tongue. “It won’t happen! Got that?” She glared at him before freeing herself and walking away like a queen departing court.
Michael stared after her—stunned, aroused, and impressed.
Be afraid, buddy, his inner bachelor warned him. Be very afraid.
A new day. A new Pam. One who wasn’t going to get distracted by Michael or rabid brides frothing at the mouth. She was here at the Serenity Falls Cafe ten minutes early, dressed in a power outfit—a black Ann Taylor suit and a stunning turquoise nugget necklace that always gave her confidence.
Pam looked like what she was—a successful businesswoman about to be interviewed by one of the premier magazines in her industry.
Pam carefully sipped the coffee she’d ordered while she waited for Arielle to show up. There was no sign of Michael, for which she was grateful. She did not appreciate Mayor Walt Whitman and his ever-present clipboard sliding into the booth across from her, however.
“I’m expecting someone,” she told him.
“I know you are. Arielle Chesney with Bridal Magazine. I hope you plan on telling her that Serenity Falls is a pocket of beauty and culture here in Pennsylvania. And of course you’ll want to inform her that we’re on the top-ten list of Best Small Towns in America.”
The top-ten announcement had been made the same day that Julia and Luke had left town. Not that there was any connection between the two events, but Pam had them irrevocably linked in her mind.
Then his words really hit her. “Wait a minute! How did you know about Arielle?”
“From Jessica’s blog.”
Pam almost spit out her coffee. “Her what?”
“Blog. It’s a sort of online diary on the Internet.”
“I know what a blog is. I didn’t know that Jessica has one.”
“Sure. Most people do these days. If you really want details, you should check out Mabel’s blog. She’s always plugged into the latest news.”
“Gossip, you mean.”
“But Jessica really scooped her on this story.”
“I don’t believe this.”
“You really should be more Internet savvy.” Walt flagged down a waitress and ordered a coffee for himself. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that your website could use some updating. As a member of our business community, you do have a responsibility. After all, we have a certain image to maintain now that we’re one of America’s Best Small Towns. Even the cafe here is online.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re selling their pies via the Internet. And doing a great job of it. Which is why they’re already out of cherry pie even though it’s barely eight in the morning. They’ve been getting orders for it from as far away as California. Can you imagine, our Serenity Cafe pies going all the way to the West Coast! And of course, the town itself has a wonderful website.”
“Well, I don’t want to keep you,” Pam said in an attempt to get rid of him.
“Nonsense. As mayor, I should personally welcome this reporter to our town.”
“No, that’s not necessary at all.”
Salvation came in the form of Angel, Julia’s New Age entrepreneur mom. “Walt, Tyler wants to speak to you about the new outdoor mural he’s planning on painting over at Cosmic Comics.”
“That’s not allowed!” Walt launched himself out of the booth, grabbing his clipboard before making a quick exit.
“Thanks,” Pam told Angel. “Is Tyler really planning on doing another mural?” He’d already done one inside Maguire’s that had created quite a stir.
Angel shrugged. “I have no idea. But I saw the frantic look on your face and said the first thing I could think of to send Walt elsewhere.”
“I appreciate it.”
“I was glad to help. You talked to Julia last night, right?”
Julia’s mom had a way of knowing things, without using customary means. Pam couldn’t keep up with all the metaphysical things Angel talked about—auras, tarots and runes, oh my.
“Yes, I spoke to Julia.”
“She’s doing well.” Angel quickly changed the subject. “Is it true that you’re meeting with someone from Bridal Magazine this morning? I saw it on Jessica’s blog.”
Pam was going to have to kill her assistant. But not until after this weekend. She needed Jessica’s help for these five weddings. She’d do her bodily harm later.
“I can see from the look on your face that it’s true,” Angel continued. Her gauzy azure top and skirt flowed around her as she hurriedly took the seat that Walt had just vacated. The amethyst crystal she always wore around her neck caught a ray of sunlight peering in through the cafe’s front window and gave it an eerie purplish glow. “I hope you plan on discussing the fact that magazines such as this create unfair pressure on young women to marry and conform.”
“Sure, I’ll tell her your concerns,” Pam fibbed. Anything to get rid of Angel.
“Maybe I should stay and speak to her myself.”
“No!” The other diners in the cafe turned to stare at Pam. “No,” she said in a quieter and less hysterical tone of voice. “She only has time to speak to me. If she sees others, she’ll leave.”
Great, that made the reporter sound like a drug pusher who would get antsy if a buyer showed up with an escort. That didn’t stop Pam from continuing. “‘Come alone,’ she told me. I’ve got to honor that, or she’ll flee.”
Angel nodded. “I understand. I’ll leave the matter in your hands.” She took one of them in hers. “You’ve got a long life line.”
“But a tight schedule.”
“Right. We don’t want to spook our prey. You really should switch from coffee to green tea,” Angel added before getting up. “Much better for you.”
Pam was thinking that she should have had the reporter come
to her home, where they wouldn’t be interrupted by mayors or aura-avid New Agers, when Arielle arrived. She wore black, like Pam, but she did so with a New Yorker’s innate sense of style.
Arielle ordered a bagel, no butter, and a double latte.
“They only do regular or decaf coffee here,” Pam said apologetically.
“Maybe we should have met at Starbucks.”
“We don’t have one here.”
“Must be one of the few places that doesn’t,” Arielle grumbled. “And no smoking?” She raised an eyebrow.
Pam could only nod apologetically.
She shoved her pack of cigarettes back into her Prada purse and removed an ultrathin laptop. “Okay, then, let’s get started. You told me yesterday how you got into the business. Tell me, what makes your designs unique?”
“I try to listen to my clients and give them the image they’ve fantasized about and are looking for. I get information on their dresses, on possible themes they want, their color schemes, that sort of thing.”
“And what themes are you seeing right now?”
“A variety. From fairy-tale weddings with glass-slipper centerpieces to Asian influences in more minimalist designs to floral Victorian motifs.”
“What challenges are you facing working in a small town like this?”
“Serenity Falls was recently selected as one of America’s Best Small Towns,” Pam dutifully told her.
“Has that helped your business any?”
“It hasn’t hurt it,” Pam diplomatically replied, since she had no idea of the answer.
“So what challenges do you face working in a small town? Even if it’s one of the country’s best, it’s still small. How is it different compared to working in a larger market?”
“I think I get to know my clients better.” Except when I have five of them on one weekend and they try to do me bodily harm. “Word of mouth is one of my most powerful marketing tools. I get recommendations from other clients or they see photographs at the local photographer’s studio from some of the weddings I’ve done recently.”
“So you work with other local vendors?”
Pam nodded.
“I got those photos of your designs you e-mailed me last night.” Arielle tapped her laptop. “I have to run them by the editor to see if we want to use them or take photos of our own. If so, we’ll send a photographer out. We’ll let you know.” Arielle looked out the cafe window at the village hall tower. “Is that the correct time?”
“No, it’s five minutes fast,” Pam replied. “It’s been like that since the day Pearl Harbor was attacked, when lightning hit it during a freak storm in December.”
But Arielle was no longer listening. “I’ve got to run. Thanks for your time. I think I’ve got enough information for now.” She slid her laptop back into its case.
“If you need anything more, just call me. You’ve got all my numbers, right?” Pam said.
“Right. Speaking of numbers, do you have Michael’s?”
Yeah, she had his number. He was in town to make trouble and she refused to allow that to happen.
“His phone number?” Arielle pressed.
“No, I don’t. But you do know he’s gay, right?” Pam couldn’t help it. The words were out before she could stop them.
Arielle’s face reflected her disappointment. “Really? He totally flew under my gaydar. Usually I’m pretty good at picking up on that vibe.”
Pam just smiled and shrugged. Michael had certainly brought out the liar in her. And the vixen.
“When were you planning on telling your mother?” Adele demanded as she plopped a plate of crisp fish and chips on the table before Michael at Maguire’s Pub.
“Shouldn’t you be letting the servers bring out the food for the lunch crowd while you cook and manage the place?” the businessman in Michael couldn’t help asking. “You’ve got a busy establishment here.”
“Don’t try and dodge the question.” Adele stood as if planted in place, her hands on her hips. “When were you planning on telling your mother?”
“Telling her what?”
She moved closer, leaning over the table to speak to him confidingly. “Look, I can understand your reluctance to tell your father. The man makes Rush Limbaugh look like a flaming liberal. He’s not exactly the kind to spill your guts to. But your mom . . . she’d stand by you, no matter what.”
This had to be about the secret he’d been keeping. One of the secrets. He was juggling several at the moment. “How did you find out?”
Adele sat across the table from him. “That doesn’t matter right now. Does your mother know?”
He shook his head.
“When did you plan on telling her?”
“I was going to tell her last month, but I wasn’t sure how she’d take it,” he said.
“You know she’d support you, no matter what. You need to tell her right away. Today.”
“I’ll send her a copy of the book.”
“What book?”
“The book I wrote.” He spoke in an undertone. “How to Hook Your Guy.”
“You wrote a book telling men how to date other men?”
“No, of course not!” Aware of the sudden stares from those seated nearby, he quickly lowered his voice. “The book is written for women, telling them how to hook the man of their dreams.”
“I see. Well, I guess gay guys are good at giving advice like that. I mean, they even made a TV show about it. Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, right?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The fact that you’re gay.”
Michael’s eyes popped open and his jaw dropped. “I am not!”
“It’s too late.” She patted his hand reassuringly. “You’ve been outed.”
“I’m telling you, I’m not gay!” He had to keep his voice quiet so the other diners wouldn’t hear him. While his volume was low, his vehement intensity was not. “No way!”
“But you just said you hadn’t told your mom yet.”
“That I’d written a book using a pen name. Not that I prefer men to women.”
“It’s on Mabel’s blog today. She got the information from a very reliable source.”
“That I wrote a book?”
“No, that you’re gay.”
“Who is Mabel’s reliable source?”
“I don’t know. Mabel didn’t say. Wait a second.” This as Michael abruptly stood and shoved his chair back. “Where are you going?”
“To have a little talk with Mabel,” he growled.
“What about your lunch?”
“Wrap it up for me. I’ll be back for it later. Oh, and do me a favor, would you? Don’t tell my mom about the book thing until I talk to her. In fact, don’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t. But don’t you do anything you’ll regret later.”
“I won’t.” He would make Mabel regret she’d ever put him in her blog, however.
Michael had no trouble finding town gossip Mabel Bamas at the video store where she worked. She had the same tightly curled, bubblegum pink hair she’d had when he was in high school.
She flashed him an Efferdent smile. “Do you need help?”
“Yes, I do. You see, I just discovered that someone has been spreading false rumors about me.”
She picked up a pair of glasses beside the cash register and studied him. “You’re that gay guy. Michael Denton.”
“I am not gay.” Since his teeth were clenched the words came out slightly strangled.
She was clearly skeptical. “I heard from a very reliable source that you are.”
“They lied. And I want to know who that source is.”
Mabel raised her chin and gave him a haughty look that would have done Barbara Walters proud. “A reporter never reveals their source. I saw that movie All the President’s Men. Robert Redford looked mighty fine in that one, I can tell you. I don’t think he’s gay, do you? A lot of those handsome actors are, you know.”
“Do you realize tha
t you can get in legal trouble for saying something about me that isn’t true?”
“I said that I heard a reliable source saying you’re gay. And that’s the truth.”
“Who? Who did you hear saying I’m gay?”
“I can’t tell you her name.”
“So it was a woman?”
“Maybe. I can’t answer that on the grounds that I might incriminate myself. Now what movie did I see that in? Was it Legal Eagles? Wasn’t Redford in that one, too? Anyway, did you see The Birdcage? Didn’t you think Robin Williams was great in that?”
Michael’s jaw was clenched so tightly he couldn’t speak.
Mabel frowned. “You weren’t offended by that movie, were you? I heard that some of you people weren’t happy with it.”
“Listen carefully. I . . . am . . . not . . . gay.” He paused between each word as if speaking to a toddler.
“I understand.” She patted his hand like Adele had. “You probably haven’t told your parents yet, so it’s awkward for you.”
Michael tried to control his aggravation and anger and instead use his logic to break this mystery. A reliable source, a woman, had said he was gay. Who would do such a thing?
Only one name came to mind.
He deliberately changed his voice to a more calm tone. “So where did you hear Pam tell someone that I was gay?”
“At the Serenity Cafe,” Mabel replied without thinking.
Michael smacked his hand on the counter. “I knew it!”
Mabel jumped. “If you knew it, then why did you come in here?”
“It’s not true. Put that in your blog. And while you’re at it, add that a reliable source told you that Mrs. Zoranski’s iris weren’t flattened by the Great Dane next door but by a certain flower store owner and her first love.”
“You mean you and always-a-flower-girl-never-a-bride Pam?”
“Remember, reporters never reveal their sources,” Michael reminded Mabel before leaving.
Only noon and already Pam had taken three extra-strength Excedrin, consumed a really huge bowl of seedless red grapes and guzzled three bottles of AriZona Green Tea with Ginseng and Honey. And that was just in the past thirty minutes.
Catch of the Day Page 4
