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“Not ridiculous,” he replied gently. “Not even close. You just seem a little…well, uncomfortable.”
For a long minute she didn’t say anything. Then, with a rueful smile, she tugged at the hemline of her dress.
“You’d be uncomfortable, too, if you’d poured yourself into this thing. It’s so tight I can barely breathe. It may fit like a second skin, but it feels like a tourniquet.”
“For what it’s worth, you look great.”
“Not great enough to make you want me.”
If only she knew how wrong she was. “I have my reasons, Gretchen.”
“And I respect them. Don’t worry. I won’t bother you anymore with my unwanted attentions.”
“They’re not entirely unwanted,” he admitted.
“They’re just…”
“Inconvenient?”
It was as good a word as any. “The dress really isn’t you, you know.”
“Why?” Her voice took on a bitter note. “Because it isn’t practical?”
“Yes. No. I guess so,” he ended lamely, not knowing what to say.
“And I’m a practical woman.”
“I’ve always thought of you that way.”
“Well, maybe I’ve decided to erase the word practical from my vocabulary.”
“What’s wrong with being practical?”
“Let me ask you something,” she retorted. “When’s the last time you took a practical woman like me to your bed?”
When he didn’t answer, she gave a hollow laugh. “That’s what I thought.”
Shifting, she pulled back onto the highway. At the first exit she turned around and headed for home. The sun was setting when she pulled into her garage.
“Thank you for the ride,” Marco said, feeling awkward.
“Anytime.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Next time, though, I’ll leave out the seduction scene.”
“Gretchen,” he began.
She held up a hand. “It’s okay. You don’t have to try to make me feel better. I’m a big girl. I’ll be just fine.”
There was so much he wanted to say to her. That he thought she was the loveliest thing he’d ever seen. That he wanted her. That he regretted his clumsiness in his handling of the situation. That, under the proper circumstances, he would kill to have a wild, crazy affair with her. That he was there for her if she just wanted to talk.
The way she held her body, stiff and unyielding, told him the words wouldn’t be welcome, so he remained mute. When they parted at their respective front doors, Marco felt more confused than ever.
She’d blown it. Big-time.
Bracing one hand on the edge of the kitchen sink, Gretchen pressed a frosted mug of root beer to cheeks that still burned with embarrassment. Outside her kitchen window the sun dropped below the horizon. A romantic scene if ever there was one, and she was watching it all alone. Which was a good thing, because she had never felt more mortified in her entire life.
How could she ever face him again?
She hadn’t set out to try to seduce him. For one thing, she was in the middle of her period, which made things logistically difficult. The only purpose of the dress and the drive was to get his attention and to, hopefully, pique his interest. No one—except maybe Marco himself—had been more surprised when the words rolled out of her mouth. If she had piqued any interest on his part, it was whether or not she was playing the cards of life with a full deck.
What hurt the most was that she’d planned it out so painstakingly. For the past three and a half weeks, during which time she’d recovered from lasik surgery, had her hair styled and bought a whole new wardrobe, she’d been careful to keep out of his sight. She’d been especially careful to confine her piano practice to times when she was certain he wasn’t home.
While she’d waited for the perfect time to put her plan into action, she’d read books on flirting, along with car brochures. She’d found herself listening for Marco and trying to ascertain his schedule. Then, when she was ready, she’d dressed herself up and shamelessly placed herself in his path.
The naked appreciation in his eyes had made her giddy. For the first time in what seemed forever, a man wasn’t looking at her for just her mind. On the contrary, Marco had regarded her solely as a sexual object. Though she had known that officially she should be offended, she hadn’t been able to summon up any indignation. The look in Marco’s eyes was heady stuff for someone who was used to having men’s glances slide away from her to more attractive women.
Never before had Gretchen felt such confidence, such an incredible sense of her power as a woman. And it had all fallen apart the minute she’d thrown caution to the wind rushing through their hair and propositioned him.
She heaved a heavy sigh. What had every flirting book instructed? Dress your best. Be mysterious. Play hard to get. Keep him off balance.
If Marco’s reaction was anything to go by, she’d gotten the dressing-her-best part down pat. The mysterious part was harder to judge. As for being hard to get, what a laugh. She was the mouse who had baited its own trap.
She had kept him off balance, though. She’d driven him to the middle of nowhere at a speed that had shaved a year or two off his life. Then she’d pulled to the side of the road and ambushed him. He hadn’t even seen it coming.
No wonder the poor man had seemed so terrified. Had they been any closer to home, he probably would have jumped from the car and run.
Which all went to prove that she was no good at seduction.
She’d kept her promise, and that was all that mattered, she told herself. She’d asked, and he’d said no. What more could she do? Besides, with Marco out of the picture, she could now concentrate on the piano competition, which was only a little more than three months away. She should be relieved. Why, then, did she feel so disappointed? So empty. So…restless.
Gretchen drank deeply from the mug, then placed it in the sink. “So Marco Garibaldi turned you down,” she said to her reflection in the window. “Big deal! Is the world going to end? Sure, your pride’s a little dented, but you’ll recover. The condition isn’t terminal.”
Like Jill’s had been.
Jill. Gretchen drew herself up straight. The revelation that came to her was like a flash of lightning in the darkest night. What was the one lesson she should have learned from Jill’s untimely death? That life was short, precariously short. And that she, Gretchen Montgomery, was wasting precious time.
When all was said and done, after the makeover and all the new clothes, what had really changed? Nothing. She was still the same Gretchen inside that she’d always been.
The one promise that Jill had extracted, and which didn’t cost a cent, was the very promise Gretchen had overlooked entirely. By dutifully spending a huge sum of money on a flashy car and a new wardrobe, she’d carried out the law of her promises, but not the spirit. She’d adopted the outward appearance while ignoring the inward attitude.
This wasn’t about seducing Marco Garibaldi. It wasn’t about seducing any man. It most certainly wasn’t about buying a flashy sports car and blowing her inheritance on impractical things.
It was about living and enjoying life. It was about appreciating every moment in a way she never had before.
What was it Jill had said to her? Remember that line from Auntie Mame? “Life is a banquet, and most poor suckers are starving to death.” I want you to feast, Gretch, feast like no one has feasted before.
Jill was right. She’d been going at it all wrong. No book, no wardrobe, no flashy car, and certainly no man was going to teach her how to get the most out of life. That had to come from inside of her. Just as a wild, crazy affair had to happen spontaneously. It couldn’t be planned. She knew that now.
Gretchen recalled the exhilaration of flying down the road at eighty-five miles per hour. That was the way she wanted to feel every day of her life. That was the way she wanted to feel when a man took her into his arms.
It was all so clear now. Why had it taken her so long to see it, to understand what Jill had really been doing when she’d extracted all those promises from her? Life was too short. Too short for regrets, too short for fears, too short for embarrassments, too short for not doing all the things she’d always wanted to do.
Sometime, between now and the end of her life, she would have a wild, crazy affair. But not with a stranger, no matter how much he made her toes curl. She’d have that affair with the man who ultimately ended up owning her heart, the man who would love her and cherish her as much as she did him.
Until that time, though, Gretchen was done being timid. She was done being hesitant. She was done living her life for her career and ignoring everything else. She’d keep the car and the wardrobe, and she’d use them to bring her pleasure. From now on, she was going to live as if there was no tomorrow.
“How’s it going?” Gary asked.
“Fine.” Gretchen sank down into a chair and crossed her legs. “I should be wrapping up the Harrison account today.”
“Good to hear. By the way, I like your dress. It’s very flattering.”
She glanced down at the camel-colored silk coatdress. Though not as tight as the black dress she’d worn the day before when she’d taken Marco Garibaldi for a ride, it was just as short. She was growing accustomed to the length of leg it exposed. Just as she was growing accustomed to, and even enjoying, the admiring glances the outfit garnered from the other men in the office.
“Thanks. I like it, too.”
Leaning forward, Gary placed his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers. “Can I ask you something I’ve been wondering about, but never quite had the courage to ask?”
She shrugged. “Sure.”
“Why is it you had to come to me for advice on how to attract a man? Why didn’t you already know these things?”
It was a subject she’d given a lot of thought recently. “I was an only child. My parents were older when they had me, and they were very old-fashioned in their behavior and their dress. I guess it rubbed off on me.”
“You never rebelled? Not even as a teenager?”
“No. You see, I wore the label ‘smart’ all through school. It wouldn’t have mattered how I dressed or behaved. The popular kids just looked right through me. Besides, I was too busy studying and taking care of my mother when she got sick. Then, in college, when my dad got sick, I took care of him, too. It wasn’t that I was unaware of the way my peer group dressed and behaved. I just didn’t have time to join them.”
“Do you regret it?”
She thought for a minute. “No. The only thing I regret is that Jill didn’t have more time.”
“So, this is your time,” he said.
“Yes.” She smiled. “I plan on making the most of it.”
“Good to hear.” He drew a breath. “How’s the seduction campaign going?”
“Oh, that.” She waved a hand airily. “Dead in the water. He turned me down flat.”
Gary peered closely at her. “You don’t seem upset about it.”
“I’m not.”
“Why not?”
“Because I know now it wasn’t meant to be. Actually, that’s why I came to see you. I know it’s short notice, but I need to take next week off.”
“The whole week?”
She nodded. “Every single day.”
“I’m not sure we can spare you that long.”
“It’s not like it’s busy season, Gary. April fifteenth is still a whole eight and a half months away. The Harrison account will be wrapped up, and Laura and Jack will easily be able to take up the slack.”
“It’s that important to you?” he asked.
“It’s that important,” she confirmed. “You know I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t.”
“What are you planning to do?”
“All the things I’ve never done.”
“All of them?”
“Well,” she amended, chuckling, “as many of them as I can cram into one week. The rest I’ll just have to get to as I can.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” Rising, she headed for the door.
“Just because he turned you down, it doesn’t mean you have to give up,” Gary said.
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “I know. But you see, I realized something. I’m the one who’s not ready for a wild, crazy affair. Not yet. But I will be someday.”
“Maybe after the week off,” he said.
“Maybe. I’ll know when the time is right.”
“Have fun,” Gary said.
She flashed him a smile. “Thanks. I intend to.”
Chapter 3
He had to stop thinking about her.
Marco knotted and cut the fifth of six required stitches on an eight-year-old’s chin and tried to make his mind blank. It was a waste of effort. If he didn’t know better, he could swear he was suturing Gretchen Montgomery’s image to the viewing screen of his mind, instead of closing a little girl’s cut.
He snipped the thread from the last suture and stood back to survey his handiwork. Neat. Clean. Although the cut had been a wide one, the scar should barely be noticeable.
It was the child’s silky brown hair that had him thinking of his landlady. This time. Over the past three days since her unexpected proposal, any variety of sights and sounds had served to bring her to mind. A woman’s laughter. A glimpse of a slender leg. Anyone with brown eyes. The sound of a car engine. It was driving him crazy.
The fact that they were having an uncharacteristically slow day in the E.R. wasn’t helping, either.
“All done, Taylor,” he said, after applying a bandage. “So, did I keep my word? Did it hurt?”
Taylor rewarded him with a wide, gap-toothed smile. “It didn’t hurt at all, Dr. Marco. Just like you promised. Thanks.”
