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“You have it all wrong,” I said.
“Tell me you don’t think he’s good looking,” Mona demanded.
“I’d say yes to him in a flash,” Martha said.
“I wasn’t asking you,” Mona said. “Your definition of the right man is any man with a pulse.”
“At least I didn’t go out with Harold,” Martha replied. “Now, Jennie, answer the question. Hot or not?”
I shook my head. “That’s not it.”
“Hot or not?” Martha repeated.
I took in a breath. “Okay, I admit he’s kinda good looking.”
That was putting it mildly. Dennis was movie-star handsome—tall, with an athletic build, and richer than sin. He was every girl’s dream, and he would be mine if he weren’t a monster underneath.
Mona gasped. “You’re not… Are you gay?”
I laughed. “That’s not it. I just know he’s not right for me.”
Martha shook her head. “You hadn’t even spoken to him before yesterday. You can’t possibly know that.”
“Now that I’ve met him, I know we’re not a good fit,” I replied.
“Trust me. I speak from experience,” Mona said. “If he’s a tight fit, that’s even better.” She laughed.
Martha laughed as well. “You’re incorrigible. I can’t take you anywhere.”
“Well, it’s true,” Mona said.
I stood. “It’s time for me to go to work.”
Mona lifted her cup. “Till next time. Go get that raise.”
“I intend to,” I told her.
“Not so fast, honey,” Martha said. “You should negotiate a bigger raise. Don’t take his first offer.”
“Yeah, hold out for more,” Mona agreed.
“And walk slow,” Martha added. “Make him wait.”
After saying goodbye and depositing my cup in the trash, I left them to bicker between themselves.
A little while later I caught myself walking quickly down the sidewalk and slowed my pace.
He could wait.
* * *
Dennis
I’d reachedfor Jennifer’s hand out of instinct, and it had been a mistake. Only sheer force of will had kept me from jerking mine back like a frightened kid. I’d left the Starbucks as quickly as I could after that, lest I drool or babble incoherently and make a complete fool of myself.
All the way to work, my hand had tingled as I walked—from the spark of touching Jennifer. I’d wiped it on my trousers, but I couldn’t rid myself of the feeling. It was as if she wore some damned skin cream laced with pheromones, and the chemicals had leached into my skin.
The woman was beautiful, but there was much more to her than that. The shock of hearing Syd’s description of her closing the Talbot deal, followed by old man Talbot’s comments had solidified that she was not the meek junior accountant I’d taken her for. All night, I’d played back my scolding of her and realized how wrong I’d been. I was rarely wrong, and never a hundred and seventy-eight fucking million wrong—never. She was a puzzle wrapped in an enigma, she was.
