Unknown - Cat_In_A_Hot_Pink_Pursuit

“I think you’re saying yes,” he said.

“Yes.”

He left, feeling something in his core that was deep and tender and strong, stronger than anything anyone had ever taken away from him. Strong beyond weakening. Love, surely.

Sex. Maybe.

Chapter 60

Caught in the Crossfire

Temple wasn’t usually nervous before a dinner date. Dinner dates were the most formal form of coupling, easily written off as exploratory and way too public to offer anything more than mild flirtation.

She wasn’t stepping out on Max. Just socializing, right? Besides, Max was pretty hard to step out on since he’d hardly been around lately. He’d never noticed she’d been away from the Circle Ritz. Had left her high and dry in the hot tub, his hot tub. This had nothing to do with Max and their long monogamous relationship. Right. The relationship that was turning into a monologue instead of a dialogue, with Temple asking the leading questions and Max ducking them like she was an obnoxious insurance agent. This was not about Max. No. It was about Matt, who had been ducking her for good and scary reasons but was definitely over that now.

Maybe digging out her old purple taffeta prom dress and trying it on in the bedroom mirror was putting her on edge. At least the Teen Queen diet ensured she could easily pull up the back zipper.

Temple surveyed her past self in the full-length mirror, ignoring the bizarre hair color above the neck. This dress was so twelve years ago. Strapless, close-fitting ruched princess torso. Sheer chic then, today it felt like wearing curtain from an Austrian whorehouse. Belled skirt like an exotic blossom with her legs the stem. This dress had been selected after she’d been invited to the prom by a dorkish date. Temple, too soft-hearted to just say no, had chosen the full crackling skirt so she wouldn’t be afflicted during slow dances by knowledge of the casual date in homo erectus state. It was icky to think of oneself as a blowup doll for the socially challenged set. Poor guys, hormones will … well, out. That didn’t mean she had to be the scene of the crime.

Back to now and a definitely nondorky guy. Being a vintage-everything lover, Temple wasn’t bothered by the dress’s dated look. But something bothered her. Maybe it was her unadorned chest and neck. She couldn’t remember what she’d worn with the dress to her real prom back in Minnesota, which showed how unmemorable that had been. In fact, it had been the usual night of uneasy embarrassment, having been asked by someone she wouldn’t have asked to the prom if girls could do the selecting.

So … she needed a fresh necklace anyway. Her three-tier costume jewelry chest didn’t offer anything right. And then she remembered … Should she? It would be a nice gesture. Maybe it would be too nice a gesture. Take a look, she told herself. If it goes with the dress and the Gamier hair .. .

She pawed through her scarf drawer, a repository of all the gifts she’d never used because she couldn’t tie an attractive knot to save her soul. A little round box. Whatwas that? She opened it and found the old gold ring of a dragon biting its tail she had been mistakenly given at the women’s exhibition. Way too big to wear and way too clunky and not-her.

Her fingers found the shape of another box. She opened the velvet case and pulled out the black cat necklace of crushed black opal Matt had given to her months and months ago. She had given it to her scarf drawer in turn because she was an almost-married woman. In her own mind. Then.

Now … if he wanted her to wear this dress, he’d want her to wear his present. She fought the tiny clasp to a TKO and went to the mirror to adjust the lay of the delicate centerpiece on her collarbones.

Maybe a bit subdued for the dress but not bad. She shook her head. The curl was creeping back into her colored hair but she still looked so radically different to herself. Max wouldn’t believe it. Maybe she’d keep the color. It made what she’d always considered her lukewarm blue-gray eyes look startlingly strong. Why be a Lucille Ball redhead forever, even if hers was natural?

Temple scavenged among the shoe racks in her wall-long closet, rejecting several candidates before finding the pair of purple satin sandals she’d got on sale at Designer Shoe Warehouse.

Perfect, the mirror said. You look way too hot, the voice in Temple’s head warned the blonde in the mirror. So? Her date had just faced a huge personal shock. Might as well take his mind off of it. He seemed to be in the mood. Besides, what could happen at the Bellagio that they couldn’t backtrack from … which they’d gotten very good at … in a heartbeat?

“Wow. You look like a movie star,” Temple greeted Matt at her door.

He was wearing a cream blazer over an open-necked cocoa silk shirt that showcased his unusual brown-eyed blond coloring.

“You took the words right out of my mouth.”

“Then we’ll really wow them at the Bellagio.”

“Not that I want to obscure your glory but do you have some sort of wrap? Could get chilly later.”

“Oh.” She’d figured they’d use valet parking but maybe not. “Just a sec.”

She darted back into the bedroom to raid her scarf drawer for an airy lavender and silver-thread stole-thing.

Midnight Louie, stretched out on the bed, opened one green eye to watch her swing the stole over her bare shoulders. He looked like he was winking approval.

“Back before midnight, boy,” she reassured him, as if he cared.

When she returned to the foyer and grabbed her tiny silver evening purse again, Matt opened the door. Before she could glide through, his finger touched the necklace in recognition.

Temple stopped as if hitting an invisible wall. “Looks even nicer on,” he said.

“It’s lovely. I I… just needed the right occasion to wear it.”

“This is the right occasion.”

When his finger dropped away from her skin, she felt like someone who had been released from a spell and hurried out into the short hall leading to the elevator.

The one-floor elevator ride was a study in awkward silence.

When the door slid back, Electra Lark was waiting for them. Mega-awkward.

Actually, she’d been waiting for the elevator.

Electra stepped back in mock awe, clutching her hands over the terminally floral muumuu covering her buxom body in the region symbolizing her heart.

“I’m stunned. Don’t you two look like escapees from the top of a wedding cake; good enough to eat! What’s the occasion?’ There was nothing to do but step out into lobby and explain themselves.

“Dinner at the Bellagio,” Temple said.

“That’ll set you back! Must be a big celebration.”

“I wrapped up a big account,” Temple said, just as Matt said, “A family reunion.”

“Well.” Electra looked from one to the other, speculative, surprised, and pleased at the same time. “Temple, love the hair! Nice to have such snazzy tenants add class to my lobby. Enjoy yourselves.”

“We will,” Matt promised in farewell, ushering Temple down the side hall to the parking lot at the rear.

She giggled as they left the landlady behind. “Suppose that reaction means she’s used to seeing us in our scruffies.”

“And separately.”

The parking lot was only half full.

Temple came to a full halt again as they emerged into the still-warm night air. “That’s right! I get to ride in the Crossfire.”

“The Hesketh Vampire would hardly do for that get-up.”

“Guess not.” Mention of the silver vintage motorcycle that had been Max’s, then Electra’s, and now was Matt’s to borrow when he pleased drew a thin curtain of what Temple would from now on consider “Catholic guilt” over her mood.