Linda Randall Wisdom - Two Little Secrets

“Oh, come on, with a little thought you could have come up with something better,” he teased.

“Only if I could have insured he’d be arrested the minute he stepped outside.” She trapped another piece of chicken with her chopsticks. “Wow, how did we fall into such a heavy subject?”

“It wasn’t easy, but we somehow accomplished it.”

“You never did say what type of column you write,” she pressed. “Do I get a hint?”

“A men’s column,” he replied.

Ginna nodded. “Sports? Tools? Cars?”

“Single men in today’s world.” He opted to give her an edited answer.

“Isn’t it pretty simple what single guys do in today’s world? They hang out in sports bars where they talk about sports, tools and cars,” Ginna said. “Not to mention they talk about women, but that’s a given.”

“Just as women get together and talk about men,” he countered.

She inclined her head in silent agreement. “We do have that nasty habit of dissecting the male gender. But you men stand around moaning and groaning all the time that you don’t understand us. When all it would take to understand us is to sit there and listen to what we have to say.” She stabbed the air with her chopsticks for emphasis.

“But do you always give us the four-one-one we need to understand you?” he argued, using the slang term for information.

Ginna rolled her eyes. “Hello!” she sang out. “Let me give you an excellent example.” She closed her eyes in thought, her chin resting in her cupped hand. Her eyes popped open. “Denny’s and my sixth-month anniversary. I spent the day at the spa getting gorgeous because we were going to go out for dinner. Wore the slinky dress and everything. Denny comes home from work and asks why I’m so dressed up. Oh, sure, it’s our sixth-month anniversary, and yeah, we’re going out to dinner. But his idea of dinner was a hot dog at a hockey game.”

“Wow, I’m impressed,” Zach said with mock reverence. “Not many guys would consider feeding you first.”

She shot him a fierce glare that experience had taught him only a woman can give.

“What about your sixth-month anniversary?”

Zach got an edgy hunted look.

“I thought we were talking about you,” he muttered, refusing to meet her eyes.

“And now we’re focusing on you. So give.” Her brilliant blue eyes turned steely.

Zach looked away, mumbled something, then quickly returned to his food. He stabbed at a piece of beef with his fork.

“Zach, tell me.”

He mumbled again.

“Excuse me?”

He blew out a breath. “Fine.” He snapped off the word like an icicle. “I bought her a new washer.”

“A washer,” Ginna repeated. “As in optional second rinse, dual agitator, heavy-duty-load capacity washer?”

“Yes,” he grudgingly admitted.

“And I thought my night at the hockey game was bad,” she mused. “At least Denny bought me a T-shirt.”

“It was a top-of-the-line washer,” Zach huffily informed her.

“Which means the salesperson suckered you in to buying more than you needed,” she translated. “And what did she say about her oh-so-romantic gift?”

Zach looked as if he wished he was anywhere but there. “I thought she was hinting for a new washer because she kept talking about my clothes. What she was saying was that if I didn’t start picking up my dirty clothing and tossing it in the hamper where it belonged, she’d throw it in a bucket and add bleach. Instead, I lost four perfectly good shirts to a bleach-filled washer.”

“I wish I’d thought of that.” She pantomimed writing on her hand. “Definitely something to write down and keep for future reference. You didn’t buy a new dryer, too?”

“We got a new one a few months later.” He looked as if he wanted to chew nails.

“Oh, the nine-month anniversary. Good idea.” She said it as if it wasn’t.

“It was practical.”

“This from the man who writes a column for single men? What do you suggest they give a woman who’s going on a first date with them? A pipe wrench?”

“No, actually, I go with the tire-pressure gauge,” he said, deadpan.

“Zach, Zach, Zach—” she shook her head “—I do hair for a lot of single women who are preparing for their first date. Their routine is simple. Hair done in a deceptively casual style that doesn’t look styled at all. Hands paraffin-dipped, nails manicured and feet pedicured. Sometimes even a facial and massage. They walk out looking gorgeous. And what happens when their date picks them up? He tells her, hopefully, that she’s beautiful and hands her a tire-pressure gauge, instead of flowers? Not a good idea. I can tell you now if a man brought me something like that, he’d be informed just where that tire gauge could go, and I don’t mean in a tire, either.” She waved her hands for emphasis. “I can see I have my work cut out here.”

“Work?”

“Of course!” She laughed. “On how to be the perfect sensitive man. You forget, I listen to women all day long. And I am a woman. If anyone can set you on the right path, it’s me.”

The piece of beef Zach tried to swallow seemed to have grown in size.

“Why do I feel as if you’re going to throw me into the deep end without a life preserver?”

“You can do it.” Ginna patted his hand. She grabbed a morsel of her chicken and held it in front of his lips. “Lesson number one—just nibble,” she purred softly.

“Something tells me this lecture series will be the death of me.” He obediently followed her instruction.

“Only if you don’t listen to the teacher,” she cooed, this time taking a piece of chicken for herself. She nibbled on her jasmine rice. “Home appliances are not romantic. You need to be careful with flowers in case the lady in question is allergic. Candy isn’t always a good idea because so many women are watching their weight. But one lovely chocolate rose could be a good idea. Or a silk one. Teddy bears are cute, but make sure they’re cute-looking teddy bears, not just generic ones.”

Zach frowned. “You must date a lot.”

Ginna shook her head. “I just do a lot of hair and women talk about dates, where they went and so on. And if it’s a bad date, I still get every detail. Sometimes more than I ever wanted to know.” She leaned over the table to confide, “One thing to tell your readers? Revealing you’re wearing edible underwear is a big no-no.”

Zach realized he had in front of him a wealth of information about the opposite sex. And what could turn out to be interesting tidbits for his column. His agent had suggested he do more than write about a single father’s life, more about a dad’s life beyond the kids.

It didn’t hurt that he was strongly attracted to her.

It wasn’t difficult when he looked at her with her hair held back from her forehead with a multicolored scarf, the vivid colors of a sunset echoed in the simple sleeveless dress she wore.

“Maybe I should take notes,” he commented in a low husky voice that implied he wouldn’t mind doing much more than merely taking notes.

“I have an idea you’re one of those pupils who learns quickly.” She smiled back, as caught up in the flirtation as he was. “This is the first time someone’s been interested in anything other than my skill with hair.”

“That I can’t believe,” he argued amiably. “You’re breath-stoppingly beautiful.”

“Breath-stoppingly beautiful?” She laughed. “You do have a way with words, Zach. I could have used you in middle school when I was taller than most of the boys and skinny as a rail.”

“Sorry, at that age I was the typical male teen who didn’t look at a girl unless she was amply endowed. Namely, anyone with a D cup.”