Love at Large (12 page)

This was going to take some work!

“Oh, hello, Dr. Brandt!” Hobbling over to him, Gladys grabbed his large hand with her bony, birdlike one. “I just wanted to thank you again for helping me with that laundry basket this afternoon,” she simpered. “Please, let me introduce you to my granddaughter Barbie. Barbie this is Dr. Brandt from upstairs. Dr. Brandt this is my granddaughter Barbie Bronowski, a peach of a girl and the apple of my eye.”

Lauren wished she had a banana to gag herself with. She turned to her apartment door, brought up one knee to act as a table for the plate of cheesecake as she dug around in her purse for her keys.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Bronowski.”

Lauren knew exactly how that handshake was affecting Barbie. Her stomach roiled at the thought of Jamie touching the blonde bombshell, even in so innocent a way. Her balance began to wobble, and the plate made a dangerous dip to one side of her leg.

“And of course I’m happy to help you any time I can, Mrs. Brownoski.”

Lauren overheard what sounded like a girlish giggle being filtered through gravel, and wondered if Mrs. B. ever regretted that pack-a-day habit.

“I’m so pleased to meet you.” Barbie’s squeaky voice drilled into Lauren’s ears. “You’ll have to excuse the way I’m dressed, but Gram left a message at work that I had to come over right away, so I didn’t even have a chance to shower after teaching my last step aerobics class.” She giggled. “Say, you look like you’re a work out kinda guy. Maybe you could stop by the fitness center sometime. I’d
love
to give you a rundown on our programs, especially our individualized ones. If you’re looking for a relationship with a great personal trainer, I’m your girl! And I
know
you’ll just love our club. We’ve got the
best
equipment and the
most
experience in town.”

Lauren didn’t doubt that she did.

“Thank you. I’ll tuck that information away for future use.” He cleared his throat. “I do hate to be rude and break up this delightful meeting, but I must be getting back to my date.”

There was that word again! Lauren grabbed the plate off of her knee before Jamie could see her looking like the Karate Kid getting ready to have dessert. This time she couldn’t resist, and glanced over her shoulder at the little group concentrated in the center of the hallway. Yes! Barbie and Mrs. B. were looking quite taken aback at Jamie’s proposed abandonment.

Shocked, even.

Now wait a minute, it shouldn’t be
that
impossible an idea.
Lauren turned around, head lifted in defiance, the world’s most saccharine smile pasted on her face. She tried to ignore the way Barbie was clinging to Jamie and running her hands over him as though assessing him for the perfect personalized exercise program right there in the hallway.

Mrs. B.’s owl-like eyes fluttered in double-time behind her glasses, her dentures clacked together. “Well, erm… yes. Of course, we’d hate to keep you from—”

“Good night, ladies.” Jamie nodded in salute to the pair, pried Barbie’s grasping hands from his arm then turned his attentions back to Lauren, whose aching cheeks were grateful to relax her false smile into a genuine one.

“Now then, where were we? Oh yes. I was thanking you for saving me from a dreadfully boring evening alone, and was ready to beg you to do it again sometime. Soon.”

His aquamarine gaze was riveted to hers. He took her free hand, brought her knuckles to his lips, and whispered a feathery kiss against them. Lauren’s knees buckled and she lost her grip on the plate, which slid to the floor with a smoosh.

Jamie scooped it up and set it beside the door. “Thank heavens for saran wrap. No harm done, if you don’t mind it being a bit lopsided.” He straightened and leaned in closer, whispering against her ear, “Remember, if you want more you know where to get it.”

His pressed forward, his lips slanting over her mouth, and Lauren discovered she could indeed still taste the lingering flavor of chocolate cheesecake on him. Her heart started to drum in her chest; her face felt flushed with heat.

A vague awareness of being watched crept into her now-fuzzy consciousness, and she giggled into Jamie’s mouth. Jamie, laughing along with her, caught her lower lip playfully between his teeth before covering her mouth with his own once more.

Somewhere beyond them, Gladys Bronowski’s door clicked shut with a decided attitude of disapproval, which Lauren savored almost as much as Jamie’s amazing kiss.

Almost.

About the Author

Jennifer Harrington lives on the beautiful New England coast with her husband, two small children, and two even smaller cats. When she isn’t reviewing books for Dangerously Curvy Novels or murdering flowers in her sad little garden, she’s sitting in front of her computer avoiding both her housework and writing that breakout novel.

L
OVE
B
YTES

Sue Ann Jaffarian

T
HE
I
NTERNET PERSONAL
ad began:
Middle-aged, menopausal, owns gun
.

Clark Baxter read it twice to make sure he had it right. He chuckled and took another swig of his morning coffee before reading further.

Divorced professional BBW seeks single or divorced professional man who is a non-smoker, light drinker, and able to converse beyond grunts and pointing. Personal baggage must fit into overhead compartment to board this flight.

He chuckled again.

“What’s so funny?”

Clark looked up to see his brother, Dave, standing in the doorway of the kitchen in boxer shorts and a rumpled t-shirt. It was eleven o’clock on Saturday morning and Dave was finally getting out of bed. Dave and his current live-in, Marianne, had recently split up and he was staying with Clark until he got a place of his own.

“This personal ad on Love Bytes,” Clark responded. “This woman is either very funny or very bitter, or maybe a bit of both. And from the zip code she listed, she lives in the area.”

Dave came around kitchen table to read the laptop screen over Clark’s shoulder. “Forget it, bro, she’s a fattie.”

“A what?”

“See that
BBW
in her description? That stands for
big beautiful woman
; a politically correct way of saying she’s overweight.”

“You sure?”

“Trust me, Clark. This one tips the scales in addition to being old.” Dave stabbed at the computer screen with a knobby finger. “She says
menopausal
. That means she’s probably in her early fifties at least. More likely late fifties, if she’s telling the truth.”

Clark rolled his eyes at his brother. Dave was fifty-one; Marianne was thirty-two. Dave had been married and divorced three times and all his wives had been considerably younger. His relationship with Marianne had lasted only two years.

“Since I’m fifty-three,” Clark said, “early to late fifties would be just fine. It wouldn’t hurt you to try someone in your age bracket for a change.”

Dave ignored the dig. “Suit yourself. But as your brother, it’s my job to tell you that you can do better, much better.”

When Clark didn’t respond, Dave shrugged and padded over to the counter to pour himself a cup of coffee. He returned to the kitchen table and sat down opposite Clark.

“What’s up with the personals anyway? I thought you were seeing someone. Sherry or something like that.”

“Her name was Cheryl,” Clark corrected. “We ended it last month.”

“Too bad, she was a knock-out.”

Clark thought about that a moment. “Yes, she was sweet and very attractive, but that doesn’t always mean compatible. We just didn’t click, I guess.”

Clark re-read the personal ad in front of him one more time and noticed that the woman did not offer a photograph. He closed the ad. Maybe Dave was right about this one, he thought. He was certainly more experienced when it came to women. Clark had been married to the same woman for twenty-four years until her death in a car accident three years before. He and Nancy had met in college in a statistics class. Their marriage hadn’t been perfect, but it had been good and strong. They’d had two beautiful children, twin boys, who were now away at college in Ohio.

Returning his attention to the computer, Clark shook off thoughts of his dead wife. Last year he had decided that it was time to get back out into the dating world. He was lonely and missed having a female companion. It was Dave who had suggested he join Love Bytes, an Internet dating site. So far, Clark had met three women from the Love Bytes site. Cheryl had been the only one he had dated consistently. He continued scrolling listings for another hour, reading several, and answering a couple of ads that did post photographs.

Before Cynthia Quinn could put her brief case down, Gwen Rogers materialized in her office with two mugs of coffee. She placed one on Cynthia’s desk. “So,” Gwen started without saying good morning first, “how was your weekend?”

“The usual,” Cynthia replied while settling herself behind her desk, “shopping, gardening, worrying about my seventeen-year-old daughter who came home two hours past curfew. You know, the usual.”

Gwen laughed. “How is Emma?”

“With any luck, Emma may live to see eighteen.” Cynthia smiled. “And thanks for the coffee, by the way.”

She picked up the mug and smelled the rich aroma before taking her first slow sip. She could tell Gwen was aching to be asked about her weekend in return. Cynthia was the owner of Quinn Legal Staffing, an employment agency in Los Angeles specializing in temporary and permanent placements for legal personnel. Gwen was her top employment counselor and had been with her for five years. During the time, they had become close.

She smiled. “You’re about to bust a button, Gwen. Is it safe to assume you had a great weekend?”

“Could be, still too early to tell.” Gwen demurely sat on the edge of Cynthia’s desk and coyly tossed her long auburn hair back over her shoulder. She was blessed with a stunning figure, a gorgeous almost unlined face, and a generally even disposition. She took her own slow drink of coffee.

Cynthia waited for more information, but none seemed to be coming. “So, are you going to tell me?”

Gwen batted her big brown eyes at her friend and boss. “Remember those ads we posted a few weeks ago on Love Bytes? Well, I got a response this weekend.”

Cynthia laughed. “A response? You’ve been getting lots of responses since we posted them.”

“True, but none I wanted to meet…until now.”

“Really?” Cynthia asked with great interest. “What makes this one so special?”

“I don’t really know, Cyn. Just a feeling I have.” Gwen put down her coffee cup, held up a delicate hand with fingers splayed and starting ticking off perfectly polished fingers with her other hand. “He’s fifty-three, a widower with two boys, owns his own company, loves reading, and the opera.”

Cynthia splayed one of her own hands and noticed she needed a manicure. She also began ticking off points on her fingers. “And you’re thirty-eight, divorced, no kids, love rock and roll, and think books are for doorstops. Sounds like a match made in heaven to me.”

Gwen laughed. “Okay, bottom line, he’s very very very handsome.”

“Ah, yes, now this is making sense.”

“Clark…that’s his name…wants to go out this week.”

“That’s a very very very good start, don’t you think?” Cynthia started going through some of the mail on her desk. She held up a formal cream-colored announcement. “Oh, look, the firm of Wolf and Swayze relocated to that new building on Wilshire Boulevard. They’ve been expanding like crazy these past few years.”

Gwen hopped off the desk and stood with her hands on her slim hips. “Cynthia Quinn, you are avoiding the obvious.”

“You’re right. Growth means lots of new jobs to be filled. We better send them a nice plant.”

Cynthia looked up to see a bony finger being wagged her way. “Come on, Cyn, you know the deal. Neither of us goes out on a first date alone. You have to get a date and come with me.”

“But I don’t have a date and I don’t want a date. Just make sure Mr. Wonderful meets you in a very swanky public place and take your cell phone with you just in case.”

“Well, you would have a date if you hadn’t written that stupid ad. It’s attracting all the wrong types of men.” Gwen defiantly crossed her arms in front of her chest. “And you did that on purpose. You sabotaged your own chances of finding someone. Don’t know why you couldn’t just write a nice romantic ad like a normal person.”

Cynthia laughed lightly. “Personally, I think m
iddle-aged, menopausal, owns gun
sums me up nicely.”

“It makes you sound like an old battleaxe, that’s what it does.”

“I think that about sums me up, too.” Cynthia’s phone rang and she answered it. After a few words, she put the receiver down and turned her attention back to Gwen. “Hildy says your nine o’clock appointment’s ready.”