Sheila Roberts - What She Wants

Scott laughed reluctantly. “You’ve got that right. But what about those sex scenes?”

“Yes. What about them?” she quipped. “Men, if you want to know what turns a woman on, you can get a pretty good idea from reading a romance novel.”

“Now, if that isn’t proof I’m on the right track, I don’t know what is,” Jonathan said, and Chica agreed with an enthusiastic bark.

“You make a pretty good case,” Scott said. “I think I may have to come to your book signing.”

“I think so, too,” Vanessa said, still smiling.

“Vanessa will be signing her new book, A Fire in Winter, tonight at the Lloyd’s Center Barnes & Noble at 7:00 p.m.,” Lissa said. “So, men, here’s your chance to talk to an expert in romance.”

“And I guess we’d better start reading romance novels.” Scott smiled. “Thanks for being with us today, Vanessa.” To the viewers he said, “After this, we have Chi Chi Romero, who’s going to show us how to spice things up in the kitchen.”

And that was the end of the interview with Vanessa. Too bad I didn’t tape it for Adam, Jonathan thought. Maybe it would’ve convinced him he needed to do his homework.

But then again, maybe not. Guys like Adam, who had everything come easy to them, had trouble grasping the concept of homework—that no matter how smart you were, or thought you were, you still needed to do it. Jonathan suspected this time was going to be different, though. Once a guy got kicked out of his house, there was no quick route back.

* * *

Adam found it hard to concentrate at work. No wonder, with the way his life was going.

He’d called Chelsea when he reached the office, tried to make up for his memory lapse by inviting her to dinner and had been told in no uncertain terms what he could do with his offer. It had all been downhill after that.

As a pharmaceutical rep he spent more time waiting in doctors’ offices than he did actually talking to them about the new medicines in his company’s catalog. All that waiting gave him way too much time to think, and when he’d finally get a chance to see a doc, he invariably looked like he needed to be taking one of those new antidepressants he was peddling. One doctor even offered to write him a prescription for a competitor’s product.

Back at the office he made phone calls and then hung up, wondering what exactly he’d promised, and had to read his emails repeatedly before he understood what he’d read. All he could think about was how mad Chelsea had been. All he could see was the hurt and anger on her face when she’d glared at him from the bedroom window.

The idea of spending another night on Jonathan’s couch was anything but appealing. He had to do something. He called Lupine Floral and ordered a huge bouquet to be delivered that day, ASAP.

“What’s her favorite flower?” asked the man who answered the phone.

Favorite flower? His mind was a blank. “She likes yellow.” She’d painted their whole living room yellow one week when he was gone.

“Well, then, we’ll send her a sunshine bouquet—yellow and white daisies and yellow pom-poms and yellow roses in a yellow ceramic pitcher.”

Adam didn’t care what they came in, as long as they got the job done. “Yeah, that sounds great. Give me the biggest one you’ve got.”

“How would you like the card to read?”

The card. He hadn’t thought of that. He didn’t want to announce to the whole world that he was in trouble. “How about ‘I love you’?”

“That says it all.”

He hoped so. He gave the man his credit card information and ended the call. That should do it. Maybe now he could talk about medications without wanting to take a bunch.

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