Untangling The Stars (5 page)

“Ohmygoshyouarekiddingme,” Tandy nearly screamed. The words rushed out from between her lips so fast that it sounded like she’d forgotten how to breathe. She flung herself backward in her chair and fanned herself dramatically with a paper napkin. “Oh my god…Oh. My.
God
.”

“Did you talk to him?” piped up Elizabeth Montgomery from Tandy’s left. The poor thing was so shy that even her words were blushing. “I mean, of course you talked to him. Why wouldn’t you talk to him?” Tandy, still fanning, rolled her eyes meaningfully at Elizabeth. “I mean, what was he like?”

Tandy rewarded Elizabeth with an approving nod, and Elizabeth gave a small smile. Tandy’s approval, rare and always mildly self-appreciating, was like water to half the women in the meet-up, but especially life-giving to Elizabeth, a student counselor who stayed shielded under Tandy’s feathers in the monarchical hen nest that was the administration department. Andie’s eyes darted from Tandy and Elizabeth on her left to the two other women on her right, Melody Ling and Denise West, an attorney and a neuroscientist, respectively. Usually the two more grounded of the group, Andie could see there was little sympathy in the two women. Both were waiting intently for her response.

Crap
. Andie considered the pile of papers before her—flyers, brochures, and other such glossy paper materials the group needed for planning their biggest fundraiser of the year, which was coming up in a few short weeks and monumentally more important than stupid Guy Wilder. She could fling them onto the floor and try to create a diversion to avoid this line of questioning, which was only going to get progressively more detailed. Sooner or later, Andie might have to admit all the steamy nonsense that had gone on, and how she had bailed from the whole damned thing due to a case of mistaken identity. Unfortunately, imagining the papers scattered all over the floor brought the image of pens rolling about on her classroom floor and Guy’s musky leather smell beside her, his flawless chiseled cheekbones, glistening ocean eyes… A familiar heat crawled up her cheeks, and Andie dropped her head, letting her hair fall over as much of her face as she could get away with. If any of those women saw her blush, she would never hear the end of it. Andie Foxglove did
not
blush.

“He was nice enough, I guess. Frazzled, maybe, from dodging fangirls on campus. It was no big deal. He just kind of ducked in before class and sat up in the back row, then left afterward. But…yeah. Nice.” Andie could practically feel Tandy’s eye roll.

“Wait.” Tandy slapped her palm against the table abruptly. “You were
alone
with Guy Wilder?”

Elizabeth gave a little
meep
. Melody and Denise looked like a pair of Vulcan twins, both staring silently back at her with a very Spock-like uplifted eyebrow apiece.
Star Trek
had been Andie’s favorite television program growing up, but the analogy didn’t bring her any comfort now. If anything, she suddenly felt like Captain Picard, surrounded by a crowd of Q and on trial as the scapegoat for humanity. She couldn’t speak for everyone, but if lusting after Guy Wilder was a crime then, yeah, she was just about as guilty as a person could get. Might as well march her off down the
Green Mile
. The extremes of pop culture references made her head hurt.

“Yeah….” Andie hoped blinking would squeegee off the last bits of visual debris left from Guy’s messy, chocolate bed hair and glistening lips waiting a deep breath away from hers.

“
You’re not trying to put a spell on me, are you?
” Guy had asked. He’d been daring her to say yes. That chewing guilt she’d been holding onto was starting to feel remarkably like regret. She should have just gone for it and let herself swoon in those leather-clad arms of his like some climatic RomCom moment. She could almost see it: the two of them on the cover of some bodice-ripper romance rag. Total jerk or not, that kiss would have definitely been worth it. And, at least she would have had a juicier—and less embarrassing—story to tell Tandy and the girls.

“Oh, let’s forget ‘nice.’” Melody’s courtroom-honed voice whipped across the table and snapped everyone to attention. “Hot, Andie. How
hot
was he, Andie?”

Leave it to Melody and her merciless lawyer instincts going in for the kill. Of course, it probably didn’t take a rocket scientist—or a neuroscientist, by the way Denise had stopped giving her that eyebrow of distant curiosity and was sizing her up like a potential lab specimen—to peg Andie suspect for dawdling on answering such an easy question. By all accounts, it was probably the last thing the rest of her friends really cared to hear about anyway. Nobody gave two shits about nice.
Nice guys always finish last
wasn’t a saying for nothing. Andie couldn’t help but feel like a guilty offender on the witness stand. With Guy’s heated memory just a blink away, there was no way she was going to talk about his infallible hotness. If she did, odds were about 10 million to one that she might finally melt into that estrogen-filled puddle she’d been trying to avoid all day. If Guy were sitting in the back of this little room in the coffee shop, he’d probably be giving her that same little suggestive smirk
again
, damn him. They had her surrounded.

Andie gaped around for an answer, and then promptly shoved the entire scone straight into her mouth and pointed at it apologetically as if to say, “Sorry, my mouth’s full.” If she were lucky, that might buy her two, maybe three, whole minutes of peace. Tandy made an exasperated sound and waved her on, demanding at least a nonverbal assessment of Guy’s hotness. Andie offered a thumbs up, swallowed a big hunk of the scone, and put up the other thumb. Two thumbs meant super hot, right? That should work. It seemed to anyway, because Tandy elbowed Elizabeth and giggled something at her under her breath. Whatever she was saying was just fine by Andie, even if it was about her bad table manners.

Denise, who had taken time out from clinical trials to make it to the weekly night meet-up, cleared her throat. “I would imagine it was a very awkward encounter for everyone,” she said matter-of-factly. “But we should get back to planning the gala. This meeting shall now officially come to order.”

Whether or not it had been for her benefit or merely Denise’s crisp way of cutting short the girl talk and getting back on point, Andie gave Denise the most grateful smile she could around the wad of scone still in her mouth. Maybe by next year she’d be ready to talk about Guy Wilder.

***

Two hours later the girls had nailed down a venue, catering selections, and made it through a forty-five minute lecture from Tandy on the nearly indistinguishable differences between blush and bashful shades of pink as if she were Julia Roberts in
Steel Magnolias
herself. That whole conversation was a nightmare that had ended only when Melody, fed up with Tandy, had doused her with a handful of cool tea and told her to “Drink your juice, Tandy.” At least Andie wasn’t the only one feeling like she was living inside a movie this time.

“Okay, I think we’re almost there.” Andie let out her breath, twisted her back to pop, and straightened her stack of papers in the space between empty coffee mugs and leftover scone crumbs. “So. Here’s what we’ve got. We’re going with the ballroom at St. Julien’s hotel, the plated roast duck dinner banquet with champagne and hors d'oeuvres to follow, and the whole place is to be decked out in shades of ivory, blush,
and
bashful. Right?”

“Right.” They all answered in unison, Elizabeth a millisecond after Tandy as per the norm. Tandy, still patting dry her soggy cardigan, was beaming. Her executive orders had been passed.

“Great, that’s done. Now for the meat of the thing.” Andie offloaded the first stack of completed paperwork to Elizabeth—who immediately turned to Tandy and tweezed back out the blush and bashful fabric swatches. She rolled her eyes and turned her attention to Melody and Denise, who—thankfully—were more keen to discuss that actual event and its purpose than the color palette for the evening. “We’ve got a guest list with close to 300 RSVPS—thanks for getting all the invitations in the mail, Elizabeth—but no confirmed keynote speaker. Any ideas?”

Without a big name willing to walk onstage and speak to the gala attendees about the critical need to support the charity’s mission, they’d be dead in the water soliciting the contributions that they would need to fund ongoing activities to increase literacy in their community. Nothing really brought home the bacon like some star power on stage. If the gala wasn’t profitable, it would be a bust and the entire charity might be at risk without enough funding for another year.

“What about Susan Dahl? She’s a bestselling author and local,” Melody offered.

“Booked.” Denise didn’t bother to reference her list.

“Megan Kant, the congresswoman?”

“Too political, and not looking good for re-election.” Strike two.

“What about Claire Baker?”

“Who’s Claire Baker?” Andie asked. The name didn’t ring a bell.

“Exactly,” Denise answered pointedly. She didn’t even have to say it: if the women at the table didn’t know who Ms. Baker was, many—maybe most—of the gala attendees wouldn’t either. And if they didn’t know the keynote speaker, there was no way they’d be opening up their pocketbooks. They might as well grab someone off the streets to give the big money speech because it’d be just as hopeless.

Andie was beyond frustrated—they’d been struggling to find a headliner for weeks—but she was not ready to give up yet. “Guess we’ll keep looking then. There’s got to be someone willing to speak about women’s literacy with the platform to make an impact.”

“We need to think outside of the box.” Melody thudded her fist against the table. “We’ve been through every author, notable businesswoman, and educator in the larger Denver area, without getting completely lazy and pulling from CU. So, let’s expand our thinking.”

“We could ask one of the Broncos!” Elizabeth blurted out, and then clamped her hand over her moth. Her horrified expression indicated that the words had missed her filter. She had been very careful to remain a closeted football fan.

Tandy snorted derisively. “A basketball player speaking on women’s literacy? Don't be daft, Liz.”

Andie couldn’t help but laugh. “First,” she explained, ignoring Tandy’s glare, “the Broncos are a football team, and second, that wasn’t a
terrible
idea Elizabeth. Many professional athletes do a lot of really fantastic philanthropic work to support their communities and other initiatives. But,” she paused, thinking of Mrs. Weinstein, the group’s largest and most conservative, crotchety, and old-fashioned funder. She might react badly to a linebacker talking about women’s learning needs. “What Tandy probably meant is that a football player might not exactly be someone who’s going to resonate with this audience.”

“One thing is for sure,” Denise noted, pushing strawberry red curls over her shoulder and patiently waiting until she had gathered everyone’s attention. “We need someone with ‘star power’ to really help us fill the bank. Remember, ladies, our target goal for this fundraiser is half a million dollars. That is not chump change. We have to think big to get big.”

“We need star power,” Melody parroted for emphasis.

Andie was about to suggest they broaden their pool and start thinking about contacting public relations agencies to see if they could find a celebrity within their budget when Tandy erupted in a fit of out loud giggles that made everyone stop to stare. It took almost an entire minute of full-throttle giggling before Tandy was able to get enough air back to speak.

“Star power! My dear Dr. Foxglove, why don’t you just ask Guy Wilder to come speak for us?” She fanned herself with one of the pink color swatches. “I bet your sexy new BFF would be just to
die for
in a slick black tuxedo with a little bit of bashful peeking out.” She coyly put her fingertips to her lips and winked suggestively. “The color I mean, not
that
bit of bashful!”

Andie’s jaw fell at the exact second Tandy’s punch line hit home with the rest of the table. Her contagious laughter and general absurdity coaxed Elizabeth, Melody, and Denise to join in. Andie wanted more than anything to glower at Tandy’s cheeky malevolence, but she could do little more than revolve her head side to side in what she hoped was a disapproving look while her mouth stayed agape. It was nearly impossible not to succumb to the perfect silliness of it all. Andie watched her girlfriends each howl with their own variety of laughter. Tandy had her forehead down and hands slapping the table. Elizabeth doubled over, and Melody had her head rolled back and eyes closed. Even prim Denise was trying to hide her laughter with a hand over her mouth. They were impossible to resist. Andie thought of Guy slinking into her classroom, frazzled and then sensuous, and finally sulky and fuming. She let every mixed emotion blend together and then let them all go at once in her own burst of laughter. It really
was
pretty damn funny.

Andie laughed. The more she imagined that sullen, brooding hunk of man hiding behind his dark shades and standing on stage surrounded by cloud-like tufts of bubblegum pink tulle, his tux adorned with a giant pink peony and his handsome face fixed with an embarrassed grimace, the harder she laughed, until she was out breath and had almost forgotten about the gala completely. That would serve him just about right.

***

When they’d finally calmed themselves and packed their things to leave, the anxiety of earlier in the day had melted away from Andie’s shoulders. She felt back to herself again, and ready to take on the next day. Even still, all that healing laughter over her mental cartoon of Guy surrounded by pink hadn’t changed the heat trapped deep inside her. There was no doubt in her mind that Guy’s steely blue eyes with their ring of chartreuse fire, would be the last thing she saw when she closed her eyes to go to sleep that night.