What She Wants

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“Yeah,” Jonathan admitted.

Now Adam was looking skeptical. “And reading these books is going to help you?”

“Maybe.”

“You’re nuts.”

Guys like Adam thought they knew it all. He’d probably never had trouble sweeping women off their feet. But it looked like sweeping and keeping were two different things. Old Adam wasn’t doing so well himself right now. He was in no position to scoff.

“You got a better idea?” Jonathan demanded. “How much do you know about women?”

Adam threw up his hands. “Nothing, nada, zip. Nobody does. Women are another species.”

“I’d say they’re a species worth studying,” Jonathan said. “Unless you like sleeping on my couch more than you like sleeping in your bed.”

Adam scowled and rubbed his chin, then dropped the book on the coffee table. “I’ve got to get ready for work.” He pulled some clothes out of his carry-on and disappeared back into the bathroom.

Denial. The guy was in denial. He was probably hoping to run over to his house later, toss out an “I’m sorry” and watch his wife throw the door wide open. For that to happen Jonathan suspected she’d need to be either brain-dead or under a spell.

“May as well dig out the blow-up bed,” he said to Chica. “He’s gonna be here for a while.”

Adam got cleaned up and was out the door in twenty minutes, and Jonathan once again had the house to himself. He and Chica ate breakfast and went for a walk. Then it was time to watch Good Morning, Oregon.

Today Lissa and her cohost, Scott Lawrence, were interviewing, of all people, Vanessa Valentine, who had a new book out. Vanessa, a brunette who looked to be somewhere in her forties, was the picture of success in a black suit and fancy pearl necklace.

But it was Lissa who held Jonathan’s attention. Today she wore a red skirt that showed a modest but alluring amount of leg, and a creamy white blouse that looked as silky and touchable as her hair. As always, she was flashing the sweet smile that must have made viewers feel as if they were her best friend.

And, as always, she was gracious and welcoming. “Vanessa, it’s a real treat to have you with us today.”

“Thank you,” Vanessa said.

“And you have a new book out.”

“Yes, I do. A Fire in Winter just hit the stands last week.”

“So, what can readers expect from this latest Vanessa Valentine novel?” Lissa asked.

“First of all, they can expect a good story. I always try to deliver that to my readers because they deserve it. They pay hard-earned money to be entertained and I want to make sure they get their money’s worth.”

Now Scott broke in. “And your legion of loyal fans keeps growing. But it’s mostly a legion of women, right?”

“My readers are predominantly women, but men read my books, too,” Vanessa replied.

“See?” Jonathan said to Chica, who was parked next to him. “I’m not the only guy reading this stuff.”

Scott’s expression was frankly disbelieving. “So, tell us, Vanessa. Why should men read romance novels?”

Vanessa looked at her host as if he were a fine specimen of stupidity. Then she smiled and said, “I can think of several reasons. For one, romance novels deal with the things that are most important in life—love, relationship, family, working to conquer obstacles. That’s worth reading about. Secondly, a man can learn about maintaining a relationship from reading romance fiction. He can also learn how women think. And I hear a lot of you complaining that you have trouble figuring us out,” she added with a teasing grin.

Scott laughed reluctantly. “You’ve got that right. But what about those sex scenes?”

“Yes. What about them?” she quipped. “Men, if you want to know what turns a woman on, you can get a pretty good idea from reading a romance novel.”

“Now, if that isn’t proof I’m on the right track, I don’t know what is,” Jonathan said, and Chica agreed with an enthusiastic bark.

“You make a pretty good case,” Scott said. “I think I may have to come to your book signing.”

“I think so, too,” Vanessa said, still smiling.

“Vanessa will be signing her new book, A Fire in Winter, tonight at the Lloyd’s Center Barnes & Noble at 7:00 p.m.,” Lissa said. “So, men, here’s your chance to talk to an expert in romance.”

“And I guess we’d better start reading romance novels.” Scott smiled. “Thanks for being with us today, Vanessa.” To the viewers he said, “After this, we have Chi Chi Romero, who’s going to show us how to spice things up in the kitchen.”

And that was the end of the interview with Vanessa. Too bad I didn’t tape it for Adam, Jonathan thought. Maybe it would’ve convinced him he needed to do his homework.

But then again, maybe not. Guys like Adam, who had everything come easy to them, had trouble grasping the concept of homework—that no matter how smart you were, or thought you were, you still needed to do it. Jonathan suspected this time was going to be different, though. Once a guy got kicked out of his house, there was no quick route back.

* * *

Adam found it hard to concentrate at work. No wonder, with the way his life was going.

He’d called Chelsea when he reached the office, tried to make up for his memory lapse by inviting her to dinner and had been told in no uncertain terms what he could do with his offer. It had all been downhill after that.

As a pharmaceutical rep he spent more time waiting in doctors’ offices than he did actually talking to them about the new medicines in his company’s catalog. All that waiting gave him way too much time to think, and when he’d finally get a chance to see a doc, he invariably looked like he needed to be taking one of those new antidepressants he was peddling. One doctor even offered to write him a prescription for a competitor’s product.

Back at the office he made phone calls and then hung up, wondering what exactly he’d promised, and had to read his emails repeatedly before he understood what he’d read. All he could think about was how mad Chelsea had been. All he could see was the hurt and anger on her face when she’d glared at him from the bedroom window.

The idea of spending another night on Jonathan’s couch was anything but appealing. He had to do something. He called Lupine Floral and ordered a huge bouquet to be delivered that day, ASAP.

“What’s her favorite flower?” asked the man who answered the phone.

Favorite flower? His mind was a blank. “She likes yellow.” She’d painted their whole living room yellow one week when he was gone.

“Well, then, we’ll send her a sunshine bouquet—yellow and white daisies and yellow pom-poms and yellow roses in a yellow ceramic pitcher.”

Adam didn’t care what they came in, as long as they got the job done. “Yeah, that sounds great. Give me the biggest one you’ve got.”

“How would you like the card to read?”

The card. He hadn’t thought of that. He didn’t want to announce to the whole world that he was in trouble. “How about ‘I love you’?”

“That says it all.”

He hoped so. He gave the man his credit card information and ended the call. That should do it. Maybe now he could talk about medications without wanting to take a bunch.