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“Oh.” The cake decorator turned her huge eyes to Karen. “Do you want to meet men on the Internet?”
“Of course she does, she’s desperate,” Dee announced. “And you should try it, too.” She sent them both a megawatt smile. “Right, then, see you tomorrow.”
“Yes. Have fun tonight.”
Once Dee had gone, Karen turned to Laurel. “I’m not definitely going to do it, I’m only thinking about it.”
“I think you should do whatever makes you happy.”
And the amazing thing about Laurel was that when she said wacky things like that, she actually meant them. “I know you do. So, what have you got for me?”
Laurel was in the habit of bringing in her cake designs for Karen to approve. Not that she needed to, everything she baked was incredible, but Karen suspected she liked the reassurance of her approval.
But she really wished the woman didn’t bring sketches of the most delectable treats that looked so good even in the sketchbook that Karen’s mouth started to water. Especially not at the end of the day when her willpower was at its lowest ebb.
Once she’d approved half a dozen designs and they’d gone over timing and delivery of the cakes for this weekend, Laurel drifted out of the office and Karen got back to her accounts.
After giving in to her hunger and nuking a Lean Cuisine meal, she continued wrestling with her books for another couple of hours. When the muted chime that announced an after-hours caller rang, she wasn’t surprised. She supposed on some level she’d expected him.
Ignore the bell or go answer him?
It really wasn’t an option. With a sigh, she rose and stepped back into her heels and took her time going to the front door.
In the dim light he looked almost a stranger to her, so tall and elegant and, she reminded herself sternly, no longer hers.
“You look good, Kiki.”
In spite of herself she smiled. “No one’s called me that in years.”
“Good.”
It was cold outside and she shivered.
“Can I come in?”
Only now did she realize they were both standing at the entrance.
She stepped back to usher him in. “Of course.”
Once more he followed her into her office. He glanced around as though he hadn’t been there earlier that very day. “Place looks good. You’ve done well for yourself.”
Not compared to him. After they’d split, he’d become one of the top architects in New York, the go-to guy for bringing faded grandeur back from near death. He was fanatical about reclaiming and modernizing heritage properties and designing new buildings or additions to fit the old neighborhoods. She felt his approval at the way she’d used the best of the old building she occupied while still managing to bring in ultramodern conveniences.
“Do you own the building?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes I do.”
He nodded. “Smart girl.”
“Too smart to be charmed by you.” She sighed. “What do you want, Dex?”
“I don’t know.” He scratched his head and her eyes were drawn to the thick, black hair she remembered so well. “I knew this was your outfit, obviously, but I thought it would be fun to surprise you.”
“You certainly did surprise me.” But if almost giving her a heart attack was supposed to be fun, she thought she’d pass.
His gray all-seeing eyes locked on hers. “You didn’t tell Sophie about our past.”
“Didn’t seem very good for business to bring up my divorce when the woman’s here to plan a wedding.” She shot him a glance. “Did you tell her?”
“No.” He picked up her gold Montblanc pen off the desk, ran his thumbnail over the monogram. “I decided to leave it to you.” He’d given her that pen back in happier times, and now she was annoyed with herself for her sentimentality in using the damn thing every day.
“So, we don’t tell the lucky couple that their wedding planner and his best man used to be married?”
“No, I guess not.”
“And that we hate each other?”
He put down the pen, straightened to his full six feet and looked down at her. “I never hated you. That’s your department.”
A moment passed and she pressed her lips together to keep from crying out that she missed him. Instead she said, “Why are you here, Dex? I mean, in the city. You work in New York now.”
“I do. But I’m quoting on a project here in Philadelphia. A grand old structure that’s been a home, a warehouse and a boardinghouse, to name a few.” Enthusiasm lit up his eyes. “She’s a tired old girl, but with amazing bone structure. The best of the original architectural features are intact and the client wants to work with them, while bringing the building up to date. It’s going to be a boutique hotel and retail combination.”
“Sounds amazing, and right up your alley.”
“It is. I really want this one. And if it works out, you’ll be seeing a lot of me.”
She raised one eyebrow.
“Helping Sophie and Andrew plan their wedding.”
He looked so sincere, so good, so sexy that for a moment she forgot the reason she’d divorced him. The five-foot-ten blonde goddess she’d found half dressed and wrapped around her husband. The saddest aspect of that fiasco was that on some level she’d noted that Dexter and the former model had looked natural together, two tall, glamorous super-people.
“You’re good at planning weddings, not so good at staying faithful once you’re in one.” Her venom seemed to curdle the air.
“Like I said, hate was always your department.”
“Well, I got over it.” With a lot of tearful sessions with her girlfriends and some rather expensive ones with a therapist. “Now I’ve accepted that our marriage was a mistake.”
“You sure didn’t fight for it.”
The old, familiar anger began to surge inside her but she bit her tongue and counted to ten. Then eleven. Finally twelve before she felt calm enough to speak.
“Why would I fight to keep an unfaithful husband?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know why I bother, but I am telling you again that I never had sex with that woman. She was drunk and crazy.”
“Didn’t look like you were trying very hard to peel her off you.”
“Believe me, I was, and I could have used your help that night instead of having you turn tail and abandon me.”
Oh, how she wished she could believe him, could have believed him six years ago when it had happened. But she didn’t believe him, and couldn’t imagine living with a man who thought so little of her that he’d betray her like that.
“I guess maybe we were wrong about each other.”
“I guess so.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, leaned against her desk, looking ridiculously masculine against the feminine lines of the furniture; it appeared as though the wood might snap from the weight of him leaning on it. But like her, the piece was stronger than it looked. “You’re still the sexiest woman I’ve ever known.”
She snorted. “Oh, please.”
“Or maybe it was us together. I miss a lot of things about you, but mostly I miss you in my bed.” He looked at her with such intensity that she felt her blood begin to pound. Of course she remembered. When she wasn’t cursing the man for his faithlessness she spent more time than she should cursing him for giving her the kind of sex that she’d never found before or since. Soul-scorching, sometimes tender, sometimes dirty but always intimate. She was secretly pleased that he hadn’t found that again either. Or so he said. But then maybe that was another line in the player’s handbook. How would she know?
She forced herself to meet his gaze coolly. Took a deep breath and uttered the biggest lie of her life. “I don’t miss you.”
She should have recalled that nothing ignited Dexter’s competitive instincts like a challenge. She saw heat flash in his eyes, anger and lust and a mix of emotions she couldn’t begin to identify.
One second he stood there before her and the next he was pulling her to him, crushing his mouth against hers so fast that she couldn’t have moved away if she’d tried. She uttered a muffled protest, squirmed against him and then as the inevitable tide of heat swamped her, found herself melting into that oh, so familiar embrace.
The initial hardness of his kiss softened and he began to play with her, igniting all her responses until she was crazy with pent-up lust and a need so strong she couldn’t begin to stifle it. She was so weak-kneed she clung to him, responding wildly, mindlessly.
Every part of her ached and burned and throbbed. If he threw her down on the Hepplewhite desk now, or even on the reclaimed hardwood floor, she’d let him take her and both of them knew it.
Then, as suddenly as he’d moved on her, he let go and stepped back. His breathing was faster than normal, his mouth wet from hers. Still, he managed to sound cool when he said, “I don’t think I believe you.”
Then he turned and headed for the door. “Don’t work too late.”
3 (#ucb064ee0-dac0-5837-aba9-6a9e4082d1b3)
“WHAT ABOUT THIS GUY?” Dee asked as they cruised the single man ads on the online dating site that she insisted had the best success with Philly singles. They were in her office and Dee had just finished setting up her account. Even twenty-four hours ago, Karen knew she wouldn’t have put up a profile on something called Plenty of Phillys but since that scorching kiss yesterday, she was determined to get out there and try to find a genuine, decent man who wouldn’t screw around the second her back was turned. Wouldn’t melt her with his kisses when he came back into her life.
But the man whose photo she was looking at on her computer definitely wasn’t that guy.
“I want to correct his spelling,” she said.
Dee sighed and moved to the next one. Mohawk, tattoos and a spiked dog collar. “Ick,” they said in unison.
The third profile featured a perfectly average-looking man with glasses, a full head of hair, and, perhaps more important, a profile written by someone who’d obviously passed high school English. “He’s a CPA, never been married, but looking to find a partner.” Dee glanced up at her. “That’s good, right?”
“Yes.” Karen finished reading his profile. “I like that he mentions taking things slow. I really can’t handle fast right now.”
“Great, let’s send him a wink,” Dee said pushing a couple of buttons before Karen could slap her hand away.
“What have you done?”
Dee laughed, the happy trill of a woman who dates regularly and isn’t scarred by love. Yet. “You have to let them know you’re interested. That’s how it works. You send a wink.”
“I am so not ready for this.”
“You so are.” Her assistant danced out of the office. “Call me if you need me.”
Dee hadn’t made it to the door when a funny noise emanating from her laptop made Karen squeak, “I need you.”
Dee peeked over her shoulder. “Hey, he winked back.”
“Is that good?”
“That’s great. Means he read your profile and he’s interested. He’s online now, so you can chat. Look, he’s sent you a message. Click here.”
Hello, Karen. I see you are a virgin.
“A virgin?” she squealed. “What is he, a pervert?”
“Would you relax?” her twenty-three-year-old mentor insisted. “Read on. He means you’re new to the site.”
“Oh. He says, ‘here’s a bit more about me.’ Um, I think he’s included his resume.”
“Just give the guy a chance. And remember, there are lots of guys out there, so don’t be afraid to keep looking.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
She kept reading. He had sent her a profile, obviously prewritten for such an occasion and if he hadn’t included his resume, there wasn’t much about his schooling and work life she didn’t know when she’d finished. In the back of her mind she was thinking how much her business could benefit from a decent CPA, then she remembered she was supposed to be looking for romance, not accounting services.
His name was Ron and he did sound like a nice guy. Nothing flashy, which was good. She was pretty sure, for instance, that he wouldn’t shove a woman against her own desk and kiss her senseless. Certainly not without first asking permission. Then she was for damn sure that he wouldn’t waltz back out of her office, having made the point that she was still desperately attracted to him, and leave her seething with sexual frustration as well as anger at her own stupidity.
Which made Ron a lot closer to perfect than certain men she could name.
She replied to Ron, telling him a bit about herself.
Then she clicked off and got back to work.
When she checked her e-mail again at the end of the day, she had a few random winks, and Ron had replied. She had to admit it was nice to make “get to know you” conversation with a man, even if it was next door to anonymous.
He ended by inviting her for coffee. I always do coffee as a first date, he explained, obviously catering to her “virgin” status. There’s no pressure. It’s only an hour of our time and if we don’t want to continue that’s fine. And if we do, then we go from there. What do you think?
What did she think?
She had no idea, so she decided to lay the entire situation before Chelsea.
“Online dating?” her friend said when she’d walked over to her place to ask for advice. “Wow. I’ve never tried it, but some of my girlfriends met boyfriends and husbands that way.” She shrugged. “And a few use the site to find booty calls.”
“Booty calls? Seriously?”
“Hey, different strokes.”
Karen bit deeply into a lemon dream bar before saying, “Honestly, I don’t even know what I’m doing. I think I’m scared.”
“Honey, you book acrobats for weddings, you drag grooms to weddings on time, solve blended family conflicts that would baffle the entire Oprah/Dr. Phil team. I once saw you personally climb a tree to fix twinkle lights. While wearing four-inch heels. I think you can handle a cup of coffee with a CPA.”
