Love Online (Truly Yours Digital Editions) (8 page)

“This year I’ll be opening my fifth office.” Jim sat back and crossed his arms as if to say, “There—digest that.”

“Wonderful.” Jess ran her finger over the itchy hive blooming on her forehead. No need to stress. According to Marilyn, all this would be funny—in retrospect.

“A lot of hard work. I had to put my company first.” Jim’s eyes shifted as if he’d given away computer underworld secrets. “And I guess that’s how I ended up single at forty-one.”

“I see.” Perhaps the overhead lights picking up the silver-gray at his temples and the deep grooves in his forehead made him appear older. Or maybe she’d grown accustomed to seeing Tom sitting across from her. His intelligent eyes, usually etched with humor, gave her the perception he was the forever-young man she’d met in high school.

“So? What’s your excuse?”

Jess choked on her drink. “I beg your pardon?” Despite her initial misgivings, she’d promised herself to stick with the date until the Lord indicated otherwise. But things were sliding downhill fast.

Jim grabbed a slice of crusty bread from the basket. “Why are you still single?”

He delivered the blunt question with a sarcastic edge. Jess watched him slathering butter on the bread. “I’m single because—”

Dora bounded past their table for the third time. Jess forked salad into her mouth, chewing while scrutinizing the waitress’s face. Dora’s green eyes widened, then shifted in a clandestine signal that left her clueless.

Frowning, Jess redirected her gaze to Jim and surveyed the crumb-littered table. She had to find a tactful way to end the date before the entrées arrived. And before she exploded like the cork on a bottle. “Same as you, Jim—I put my career first.”

He grinned around a mouthful. “But I’m a man. Most women regret putting off marriage and children in favor of a career.” He drank water, making a
glunking
sound, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “No offense. But Christian women especially. Aren’t you searching for the things of God?”

Jess’s spine snapped straight, drawing her upright from the hunched position she’d maintained to make herself appear smaller. But clothed-in-self-confidence-Jim certainly didn’t need a boost from her. “I may have put marriage on the back burner, but I’m not—”

“Sorry?” Jim’s sparse brows curved in a show of skepticism. He smiled and smacked his lips. “Great bread.”

Jess noted her clenched fists, eased them open, and inched aside the bowl of wilting lettuce. “I guess I’m not
most women
, because I’m not sorry.” Of course at times she feared she’d missed the boat, passed her one, true love on the street without ever knowing it.

“Forget it. I didn’t mean to hit a nerve.” Jim brushed aside the crumbs, scattering them over the surface of the wooden table.

“You—I—” She picked up her glass of iced tea. If she didn’t occupy her mouth, she’d have to repent later for what might tumble out of it. Tipping her head, she knocked back her drink the way John Wayne did before a showdown.

“Hello, Jess.”

Cold liquid splashed over her chin and onto her white blouse. She gulped, set down her glass, and stared up at Tom. Clutching the linen napkin, she dabbed her mouth in an effort at composure, fully aware she was gawking.

“Tom.” Jess’s lips pulled into an easy smile. Her pulse raced.
Tom
. He’d come to rescue her. Later, he’d help her find humor in Jim’s obnoxious comments. To hear the joyful rhythm of her heartbeat, anybody would think Tom was her one, true love.

“How are you, Jess?” Tom smiled, but his tone alerted her to something amiss.

“Great—I’m great.” She turned toward Jim. How could he not feel the dot of butter shining on his chin? She squelched the urge to reach across the table and spruce him up a bit. “Jim Hunt, this is Tom Winters.”

Jim popped out of his chair like a jack-in-the-box. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yes, same here.” Gazing down, Tom shook his hand. He had to be remembering her insecurity about being taller than men, though Tom’s handsome face revealed nothing.

Jess took a sip of tea, waiting for Jim to sit, then chanced another glance at Tom. “So what brings you into Flavors tonight?”

“I’m here with Frank”—Tom gestured with a tilt of his head—“and a couple of friends.”

Her heart paused, then sank. But, no, after Sunday’s argument, Tom wouldn’t squire Internet Woman into Flavors. He wouldn’t rub salt into the wound. Holding fast to that belief, Jess peered around him.

She caught sight of the back view of Frank, sitting at a table about twenty feet away. Her gaze moved on to a smiling woman who could’ve easily passed for her sister.

Jess swallowed past the thick ache in her throat, nodded hello, and found her voice. “Oh, good—I see you snagged table 12. Your favorite.”

“Yeah, well, Frank made the reservations, but, um. . .” Tom cleared his throat and glanced over his shoulder. “Anyway, I’ve got to get back to—”

“Okay, then—see you.” Jess stabbed her fork blindly into the salad, nearly knocking over the bowl in her zeal.

“Right—and nice meeting you, Jim.” Tom turned away.

Jim’s response mingled with the sound of her blood coursing through her ears. She watched Tom walk toward his date. The woman eyed him like a grinning Cheshire. Tom dropped into the chair beside her, leaned next to her ear. An invisible band tightened around Jess’s ribs. “That’s only Jessica,” Tom had to be whispering. “She’s just an old friend.”

“Er, as I was saying. . .” Jim’s voice pulled her attention from the numbing spectacle. She desperately wanted to
shush
him. “Is that your ex or something?”

Jess’s hand went to her forehead. She rubbed the hive that had swelled to a hard, inflamed tumor of anxiety. “No, why do you ask?”

“Because I don’t want to be involved in anything messy. We can leave now—go someplace else, whatever.”

“No, of course not.” Abort the date mid-salad? Skulk past Tom like a pathetic castaway with a spotted face and tea-stained blouse? “I’m fine. I—” The touch of a hand on her shoulder made her jump, mocking her words and garnering a scowl from her date.

“Oops. Didn’t mean to scare you.” Dora pointed to the bowls. “May I take these?” Her eyes flashed another code-red signal.

“Yes, sure.” Jess glanced in the direction of table 12 to indicate her awareness to Dora. Understanding passed between them, and the waitress pressed her lips into a straight line of condolence. “Don’t be sorry,” Jess wanted scream. How many times would she have to explain to Dora that she and Tom were just friends? After tonight there should be no more questions.

Their entrées arrived quickly, but the laughter drifting from two tables away zapped her appetite. Jess sliced her steak into manageable bites, but the food was tasteless to her. The small talk with Jim, agonizing. And the burden of not looking Tom’s way, unbearable.

She had to seize the opportunity now, while Jim was shoving beef Wellington into his mouth. Jess peeked out of the corner of her eye, sucked in a breath, and disguised her shock with a cough.
Impossible!
Thomas Winters, fastening a carnation into Internet Woman’s hair, on a first date!

Sixteen years of friendship, and she’d seen only Tom’s sweet, shy side. Perhaps it was the only side he’d chosen to reveal to her.

“Excuse me.” Jess pulled the napkin off her lap, placed it on the table, and slipped out of the booth.

Jim raised his gaze to her briefly. “Fine, fine.”

Jess jetted across the restaurant toward the lavatory, carrying with her the image of her best friend turned Romeo. She pushed through the bathroom door, swung it closed, and jiggled the latch with trembling fingers until it slid into the locked position.

Sagging against the door, Jess closed her eyes and tried to breathe. “What am I doing? Acting crazy.” Pushing herself off the door, she moved to the sink and clasped both its sides with her hands for balance. “Lord, please don’t let me faint. Please don’t let me faint.” Slowly she lifted her gaze to the oval mirror.

Jess sucked in a sharp breath at the hideous reflection staring back at her. She brushed her fingers over the fresh crop of red welts trailing down her cheek to the right side of her neck. No wonder Tom had never pinned a flower in
her
hair.

She unzipped her purse in haste. She wasn’t acting crazy. She’d lost her father. She couldn’t bear to lose her best friend, or whatever would remain of him after Internet Woman was through.

Fishing her notebook from her purse, she ripped out two sheets of paper, then shook her bag until she excavated a pen.

An impatient
rat-a-tat-tat
on the bathroom door made her jump.

“Just a minute,” Jess called, scribbling the first note to Jim Hunt.

❧

Smiling on the outside, Tom poured himself another glass of sparkling water. Of all the nights for Jess to be here. He had a hunch she’d seen him help Linda affix a flower to her hair, and he’d actually been tempted to apologize to Jess.

Tom shot another glance across the room. Jim sat alone, eating at an alarming speed. Jess’s sudden, mad dash to the ladies’ room apparently had no impact on the guy, while his own stomach did somersaults. He had to let it go—let her go.

Tom switched his gaze to Linda. The restaurant lights had been dimmed, and he admitted to himself with some reluctance that she looked radiant by candlelight.

Another part of him—the piece that still felt obliged to protect Jess—prompted him to keep watch for Jess’s return from the rest room. Jim must’ve said or done something to upset her.

“Tom, we’re losing you again.” Laughing, Frank looked from Brittany to Linda. “You have to forgive Tom. He has a brilliant financial mind, but he’s socially challenged.”

Brittany giggled. Linda patted his arm. “I think Tom’s doing great—socially and otherwise.”

Tom offered Linda a smile of appreciation. “Why, thank you. I—” He sobered at the sight of Jess making a hasty retreat toward the exit. His protective instincts raised him out of his chair slightly, and he shifted in an effort to cover his jerky motion. None of his business anymore.

Frank, never one to miss a trick, turned to Brittany, filling the awkward silence with cheery banter, and the two quickly resumed jabbering back and forth.

Tom twisted in his chair toward Linda, opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. Where should he begin? He could start with an apology for not really being here tonight. But that would require further explanation—the truth—which in-cluded sixteen years of pining. He could almost hear the scrape of Linda’s chair against the wooden floor as she bolted for the nearest exit.

“Do you want to go after her?” Linda spoke softly, but her words stung.

“That obvious, huh?” Tom looked toward Jim’s table again. Dora stood there, her hand pressed to her cheek, no doubt apprising him of Jess’s disappearance. Dora would try to smooth things over, not unlike his efforts to protect Jess for far longer than he cared to remember.

“Are you in love with—?” Linda asked without inflection.

“
Jessica.
I was.”
I am?
The double date seemed more a burden now than a blessing. He craved some private time with Linda, a woman who seemed not to judge him. But baring his soul on a first date would be the epitome of selfishness and more than he cared to share tonight. “You weren’t set up. I didn’t plan on coming here. We ended up—”

“I know.” Linda smiled. “Brittany and Frank made the arrangements.”

“Did I hear my name mentioned?” A grinning Frank waved his hand as if he couldn’t care less and picked up his chat with Brittany.

Linda placed her hand on his. “Do you want to go for a walk after dinner? Just the two of us?”

Tom shrugged. Even now his heart was dragging him toward the exit, out the door, to comfort Jess. “Frank’s right. I’m not very good company lately.”

“Let me be the judge of that.” Linda’s blue-green gaze captured his in an expression that told him she held no animosity. “Brittany has to go home early anyway. How about that walk?”

Tom nodded. “Sounds good.” And it did. He caught Dora’s attention and signaled for the check. Instead of coming to their table, Dora summoned him with a crook of her finger.

He and Frank split the tab, walked to the door together, and divided into twosomes outside. “Good. It stopped raining.” Frank winked before departing with Brittany, their arms looped.

As Linda walked beside him, Tom dipped his hand into the pocket of his suit jacket. The note Dora slipped him was still there. He wadded it up in his hand. He would read Jess’s letter—eventually. But now. Now belonged to Linda, and he intended to be the gentleman his father had taught him to be.

Tom cleared his throat. “I’d like to apologize again. I don’t make a habit of being rude, but I—”

“No apology necessary. I was in love once.”

Linda’s hand brushed his, but he made no attempt to hold her hand. He’d been a cad all night.

“By the way”—Linda smiled—“I think Jessica and I look a lot alike.”

Tom couldn’t help grinning. “Believe me—I noticed.” Keeping Jess out of his thoughts when he was with Linda would be an uphill battle.

“Why did you guys break up?” Linda stopped midstep, looked up at him, and grimaced. “Sorry—it’s none of my business.”

“No, that’s all right.” They strolled one long city block after the other, mostly in comfortable silence, and ended up sitting at a wrought iron table at an outdoor café on Second Avenue.

Maybe it was the warm May night or sipping cappuccino as a light breeze ruffled her shiny, dark hair, but talking to Linda came easy. He hadn’t bared his soul, but he’d answered all her questions honestly. “Do I get an award for world’s worst blind date?”

Linda smiled. “I will say”—her smile faded, and she met his gaze—“Jessica’s blessed to have a friend like you.” She rested her chin on her fist. “May I humbly suggest you tell her you’re in love with her?”

“Thanks, but it’s too late.” Tom nodded his certainty. “If anything, this online dating thing has caused us to drift apart.” Besides, he wouldn’t mind getting to know Linda Anne Baker better. He’d been so busy filling her in on the gaps in his life, he’d discovered little more than her full name and that she worked as a registered nurse in a hospital somewhere in Manhattan.