by Elle James
“I was talking to you,” Leslie said. “I’ll call back when we’re done here.
“We’re done here. Really, you should answer.” Jane’s fingers squeezed the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned white.
“Too late,” Leslie said. “It must have gone straight to my voicemail.”
Jane leaned her head against the headrest, forcing air in and out of her lungs. Had she known dating would cause this much stress, she might have stayed single for the rest of her life.
But now that she’d met Max, she didn’t want to go back to her lonely existence. She wanted to see him again.
“Do you think he’ll call me for another date?” Jane asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“Sweetie,” Leslie answered. “How could he not? You’re an amazing woman. Any man would be lucky to have you as part of his life.”
“Even without makeup? And mud on my face, in my ears and the crevices of my nose?”
“You didn’t whine or cry, did you?” Leslie asked.
“No,” Jane said.
“All the more reason to fall in love with you,” Leslie said. “Max struck me as a man who appreciates a strong woman.”
“I don’t think I came across as strong.” Jane’s lips twisted. “More like a big klutz.”
“I doubt that.”
“No, seriously, no one would suspect the Jane Gentry of yesterday was a world-renowned, graceful model. Did I tell you that I tripped and fell off the stage in Vegas?”
Leslie gasped. “No, you didn’t. I’m surprised you didn’t break anything. Those runways are usually pretty high off the ground.”
“Had some hulk of a man catch me.”
“Anyone interesting?”
“Not to me. He looked like a professional athlete. Athletes are more into themselves than a relationship. I’m getting too old to be some man’s arm-candy.”
“You are not too old,” Leslie cried. “You haven’t even turned thirty, yet.”
“I will soon. And in modeling years, that’s ancient. It’s a good thing I’m retiring after the Dallas Children’s Hospital Charity Gala. That’s my last gig.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Leslie asked. “The world will be a less beautiful place without you on the covers of my magazines.”
“I need to make room for the younger models. Besides, I don’t need the money. I’ve saved a lot of money, and I have an impressive portfolio.”
Leslie laughed. “So, you’re really going through with it? You’re going to be a chef?”
“Yup. And write cookbooks,” Jane said. “And I’m going to sample all of the things I put into that cookbook. No more starving myself to fit into ridiculous bikinis.” Her voice trailed down into a whisper. “And I want a husband and children.”
Leslie sighed. “Sounds like you have it all planned out. BODS is going to help you get there. I have a good feeling about you and Max.”
“I know it’s too soon to say anything. I’m afraid I’ll jinx things,” Jane said. “But I really like him. He’s the kind of man who’ll tell me like it is. An honest man I can trust. If he doesn’t like me, I’ll know soon enough.”
“And if he does like you, when are you going to tell him who you really are? Sounds like he doesn’t have a clue.”
“He doesn’t strike me as a man who follows the tabloids. I don’t think he’ll find out who I am. And I don’t want him to know until we’ve known each other a little better.”
“You know the longer you wait, the harder it’ll be to tell him.”
Jane nodded before she remembered Leslie couldn’t see her. “I know. I didn’t want to spoil the moment.” She’d thought about telling him as they lay staring up at the stars. She’d even opened her mouth several times to bring it up, but she’d chickened out.
Holding out on him went against her grain. She valued honesty, yet she wasn’t being honest with him. How would he feel if he knew she was a high-powered model, used to the limelight and followed by paparazzi?
“Is it wrong of me to want to be loved for me, not the fully made-up model?” she asked.
“No. But if Max is the one, he needs to know what he’s getting himself into. Not just any man can handle celebrity life.”
“But I’m retiring from that life.”
Leslie snorted softly. “It will be a while before the public forgets about Angel Gentry. You’re practically a household name. Women would follow you into your sixties and seventies just to see how you handle aging. You’re an inspiration to many of us.”
“Thank you, Leslie. But I just want to have a normal life with a husband and children before I’m too old to have children.”
“Sweetie, you’re far from too old.”
“Now, I am. If it takes me more than one shot at this online dating, it could be years before I marry. I don’t have many more years left that I can safely have kids.”
“Having children is not guaranteed. Have you thought about that?”
Jane’s heart squeezed hard in her chest. “I have. All the more reason to get moving on the plan to marry and start trying to get pregnant. I want children, but if I can’t have them naturally, I’ll adopt. I might adopt even if I have children of my own. There are plenty of kids in foster care who need good homes.”
“It’s going to happen for you, Jane. And if Max is the one, I’ll help you two any way I can. But the attraction has to be on both sides.”
Jane sighed. “I know.”
“All you can do is wait for him to call you for the second date. Or you can call him.”
“I was hoping he’d call me.” She grimaced. “But I didn’t give him my number.”
“Do you give me permission to give him your number?”
“Yes!”
“If he asks for it, I will.”
“Thank you, Leslie. Without you and BODS, I don’t think I’d stand a chance. Put me on a runway, dress me in the latest fashion and I’ll perform. I’m just not good at this whole dating gig.”
“You’re fine. And I bet he’ll email or call you in the next twenty-four hours to arrange that next meeting.” Leslie chuckled. “Hopefully, not on the ranch.”
“Actually, I loved being on the ranch. But maybe not sliding down a hill and landing in the mud.”
“Got my fingers crossed for you.”
Jane hit the button for her garage door, waited for it to open and then pulled in. As she got out of her car, she found herself crossing her fingers and sending a silent prayer to the matchmaking gods…
Call me, Max Smith!
Chapter 9
“What did you find out?” Max sat at Tag’s dining table, a fresh cup of coffee warming his hand.
“Can I start the caffeine IV before you drill me with questions?” Tag grumbled.
“I’ve been up for hours, grinding my teeth,” Max admitted. “I almost woke you a dozen times. Be glad I didn’t.”
“You should be glad you didn’t.” Tag plunked a coffee mug on the counter and filled it to the brim. “I keep a loaded gun beneath my pillow.”
“Good to know.” Max waited for Tag to take a seat opposite him. “I heard you talking after I called it a night. Did Leslie call after I hit the sack?”
Tag lifted his mug and took his first sip before responding, “She did.”
“What did she say?”
“She said she talked to Jane.”
Max sat forward, every nerve on edge. “And?”
“She said Jane was okay with the date.”
“Okay?” Max sat back in his seat. “Only okay?”
“What did you expect? You dunked her in the mud on your first date.” Tag yawned. “Then you kept your best friend up until all hours whining about how you didn’t think she’d go out with you again.”
Max pushed his hand through his hair. “Just okay.” He shook his head. “What are the chances she’d go out with me again to make it up to her?”
“Slim to none?” Tag offered.
Max glared at his f
riend. “You’re not helping.”
Tag lifted his cellphone, brought up the screen, touched a few keys and sat back. “You’re welcome.”
“For what?” Max wasn’t feeling very thankful at the moment.
“I just shared the phone number Leslie sent.”
“Phone number for who?” Max said. “I’m not interested in dating anyone else. You can tell Leslie that yourself.”
“Then I don’t suppose you’ll want the number I sent.”
“I don’t need Leslie’s number, now.”
“No, dumbass. It’s Jane’s number.” Tag laughed. “You’re wound tighter than a baby rattler with a new button on his tail.”
Max’s cellphone pinged with an incoming text message. He grabbed the phone and stared down at the shared contact information for Jane Gentry. When he started to touch the number and call her, a hand shot out to stop him.
Max glared at Tag’s hand on his arm.
“Have you thought about what you’re going to say or do?” Tag asked.
“I’m going to ask her out again,” Max said and shook off Tag’s hand.
“Dude, you need a better plan than your last one, or you’ll lose her. You’re lucky she’d giving you a second chance to treat her right.”
As much as he wanted to call Jane that very second, Max knew Tag was right. “What do you suggest?”
“Do something normal. Meet her for coffee. Take her to a movie. Make reservations for a fancy dinner Austin. Show her you want to be with her, without testing her ability to rough it on a ranch.”
“What if she says no to another date?” Max asked, staring at her number as if willing her to say yes.
“She gave Leslie permission to give you her phone number. She’s not going to say no to a second date. But she might say no to a third if you don’t get it right this time.”
Max dropped the cellphone onto the table and threw up his hands. “Gah! How do people date? I need a damned playbook.”
Tag smiled. “Dating can be like football. You have to practice enough with your receiver to feel comfortable that he can catch whatever you throw his way, right?”
Max frowned. “What does that have to do with dating?”
“You need to go out several times on neutral ground to get comfortable with each other, before you move on to more intricate plays.” Tag’s eyes narrowed. “Get my drift?”
“I think so,” Max said, though he wasn’t entirely sure. “Go on.”
“Invite her out for coffee. Let her get used to you and your dumb jokes.”
“Hey.” Max punched Tag in the arm. “My jokes aren’t any dumber than yours.”
Tag rubbed the spot Max had punched. “My point exactly. She has to be willing to put up with your warped sense of humor. That takes practice.”
“Okay. I’ll ask her out for coffee.” Max lifted the cellphone.
Tag put his hand over it. “One play is not an entire plan. Have it all laid out and play through to the Hail Mary pass at the end.”
“Coffee this afternoon. A movie the next night. Dinner on Thursday?” Max raised his eyebrows. “Is that thinking far enough ahead?”
“Yes. If you think she’s the one for you, you need to introduce her to your friends.”
Max shook his head and held up his hands. “No way. There are two of you still single and on the prowl. I’m not exposing her to you and Sean and have you poach her right out from under me.”
“If we’re able to poach her, she wasn’t that interested in you to begin with.” Tag raised his eyebrows. “Isn’t it better to know that now than after you’re married?”
Max studied his friend through slitted eyes. “I’m not so sure.”
“I promise not to hit on her.” He grinned. “I can’t vouch for Sean. We could have a night out with the gang at the Ugly Stick Saloon. It’s far enough away from Austin we won’t have to put up with the weekend traffic.”
“They usually have good music,” Max considered. “I taught her how to two-step. It would be a good time for her to try out her new skills.” He clapped his hands together. “Coffee, movie, dinner and dancing. That about cover it?”
Tag nodded. “To start with. If you last an entire week, you might have a chance with her.”
Again, Max raised his cellphone.
Again, Tag put his hand over Max’s. “You might want to wait until this afternoon before you call her. You don’t want to appear too desperate.”
“I am desperate,” Max said. “I want to see her again…in this century. If I wait until this afternoon to call, what am I supposed to do in the meantime?”
Tag gave him a pointed stare. “You could go home and get a shower. It’s not like you’re going to take her out tonight. That’s way over the top far too soon.”
Frustration bubbled up inside Max. “This had better work.”
Tag held up his hands. “These are all suggestions that may or may not work. Just like any play on the football field, you have to be flexible and adjust when necessary. The main thing is to treat her like she’s special. Not like she’s a used car being test driven.” Tag frowned at Max. “And don’t push the physical side. You’ll know when she’s ready.”
Max’s head spun. He wasn’t new to dating, but he was new to dating for his future. He didn’t want to blow it. But he wasn’t sure he was cut out to be as patient as Tag’s suggestions would require.
“If calling now is too soon and will make me look desperate, how long should I wait?”
“I’d give it until later today. Not too long that she feels like you’ve moved on, but long enough to make her wonder what she missed and might want to see more of.” Tag clapped a hand to Max’s shoulder. “Relax. It’ll all work out.”
Max wasn’t at all sure it would. Not if he had to follow a playbook in a game he felt was out of his league.
“You did give him my cellphone number, didn’t you?” Jane asked Leslie halfway through the next day.
“I gave it to Tag,” Leslie said. “He promised to pass it on to Max.”
“Is there any way to know whether or not he’s done that?” Jane didn’t want to nag, but the suspense was killing her.
Leslie laughed. “I asked Tag. He said he sent it in a text to Max. Give him time. He’ll call.”
Jane hadn’t slept much the night before. By the time she went to bed, it was almost two o’clock in the morning. Sleep hadn’t come until an hour later, and she’d woken up by seven after dreaming she’d missed a phone call from Max.
She’d sat up in bed and checked her cellphone. No calls. The only people who had her cellphone number were her closest friends, her mother and her agent, Layne Sanders.
With adrenaline running rampant through her veins, she had no choice but to get up and get moving.
Jane went for a jog, her cellphone strapped to her arm, earbuds in her ears. If Max called, she’d be there to answer, but she wouldn’t be mooning around the house.
She’d gone three miles before the Texas heat got to her, and she headed back to the comfort of her airconditioned house.
Though she had a maid to clean once a week, Jane couldn’t sit around and do nothing all day. She spent the next two hours going through the clothing in her closets, weeding out items she hadn’t worn in the past year. She shoved them into a huge garbage bag and hauled them off to the women’s shelter thrift store to donate.
When she returned, she went for a swim, keeping her head above the water at all times so she wouldn’t miss the phone ringing.
She’d completed twenty laps and still Max hadn’t called. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn’t had breakfast and noon was long past.
Jane entered her kitchen and looked around with a critical eye. If she kept the house, she would completely remodel the kitchen to be more user-friendly. But for now, she pulled out the recipe file she’d kept over the years. She’d promised herself she’d try different dishes once she wasn’t modeling anymore and could finally eat things that were loaded w
ith carbs and calories without worrying about gaining a pound or two.
Two hours later, she had four dozen chocolate chip cookies cooling on racks across every bit of counterspace she had in her kitchen.
“What the hell am I going to do with four dozen cookies?” she said out loud.
As if in answer to her question, her cellphone rang.
It took her a few moments to locate it beneath a dishtowel. When she did, her heart sank a little. The caller ID on the screen indicated Leslie Lambert.
“Hi, Leslie.”
“Has he called?”
“No.” Jane glanced around at the cookies, tears welling in her eyes. She would not cry. She’d only just met the man, and they hadn’t been together for more than about four hours. That was not enough to form a lasting relationship.
“What’s wrong with the man?” Leslie asked. “Tag said he enjoyed his day with you. I thought by now he’d have called and set up your next date.”
Jane sighed. “Maybe he didn’t enjoy it as much as I did. Face it, I’ve been working since I was fourteen. Other than modeling, what do I have to offer?”
“You’re a wonderful person,” Leslie argued. “And you’re game to try anything, as evidenced by the insane first date he took you on.”
“I might not have measured up. He probably wants a farm girl who knows one end of a horse from another.”
Leslie snorted. “You can learn all that. It’s not rocket science.”
“No, but why teach someone who has never lived on a ranch when you can find plenty of willing women who have?”
“He’ll call. He might have had something come up. It is Monday and a workday. I bet he calls this evening. Don’t give up hope.”
“I won’t,” Jane said, though she was halfway there already.
She ended the call and started bagging cookies. She’d give some to Leslie and take the rest to the fire station. Surely, the firefighters would like some home-baked cookies.
She’d bagged two of the four dozen cookies when her phone rang again. Jane’s heart leaped. She dropped the bag she’d been stuffing to check the caller ID.
Layne Sanders. Her agent.
