Читать книгу She's On Top - Susan Lyons - Страница 5

“Excuse me?” Rina Goldberg carefully put her teacup on the coffee table. Her heart was racing. A moment ago she and Al had been discussing the Spanish film they’d seen tonight and now he’d…

No, she couldn’t have heard right. She stared at Al, who was calmly sipping his own Earl Grey at the other end of her couch. “What did you say?”

His gray eyes narrowed slightly. “I said, I think we should get married.” Then he hurriedly put down his cup. “Sorry, I forgot.” He fumbled in the pocket of his navy Dockers. “I got you a ring.”

A ring. A marriage proposal. Rina could only gape at the man. Was this for real?

He handed her a tiny jeweler’s box and, heart pounding and hands shaking, she flipped it open to see a medium-sized diamond solitaire sparkling up at her. Oh my God.

“You like it, don’t you?” he asked. “The store said it’s one of their most popular designs.”

A generic engagement ring.

“Rina? Say something.” He ran a hand through his short auburn hair, pulling it away from his forehead and revealing his receding hairline.

Shit. A man—a very nice man who she’d been dating for two months—had just proposed and all she could think about was his male pattern baldness?

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.

This wasn’t the way she’d always imagined it.

Damn. Since she’d been a little girl, she’d dreamed of the day Mr. Right would propose. He’d go down on bended knee, declare his undying love, slip a gorgeous ring on her finger. She’d cry, “Yes!” and fling herself into his arms, knowing they were destined for a happily-ever-after.

Crap, this just wasn’t fair!

Al wasn’t doing it right. Or, maybe, Al wasn’t right. Wasn’t her heart supposed to be leaping with delight, rather than hammering wildly as if she was on the verge of a panic attack?

“Rina?” He was starting to look annoyed.

She put the ring box on the coffee table and dragged both hands through her black Medusa locks, tugging her hair away from her face. “This is so sudden. I don’t know what to say.”

“Jesus.” His usually even voice held a note of disgust. “You’re supposed to say yes and put on the ring, then we’ll kiss and go to bed. And tomorrow we’ll talk about the wedding.”

The kissing and sex had definitely been in her plans. That had become their Saturday-night pattern. An early dinner at a nice restaurant, a mutually-agreed-upon movie, conversation over a cup of Earl Grey. Then bed, where there’d be one very nice orgasm for each of them.

She’d been looking forward to that orgasm. But now it looked like she’d only get it if she said “yes.” And that word just didn’t feel like coming out.

In fact, she seemed to have been struck dumb. What she really wanted to do was climb into bed by herself, pull a pillow over her head and moan.

She wrapped her fringed scarf more securely, hugging it across her chest with crossed arms. Then she forced words out, voice soft and gentle. “I didn’t expect this.” She met his frustrated gaze with her own troubled one. “We were taking things slowly. One date a week, then two, then…” God, she wasn’t even comfortable saying the word sex to this man. “You know, being intimate.”

“And all of it’s been good, hasn’t it?” he demanded.

She nodded slowly. “Yes, it has. But I thought we’d…” The truth was, she hadn’t thought ahead. Things had been drifting along so comfortably. She’d been happy to have a regular guy in her life. Steady sex.

Her arms still hugged her body and now he tugged them away, clasping her hands in his. His touch should have felt warm and loving, but instead it made her feel trapped.

“Look, I’m thirty-two,” he said. “You’re turning twenty-seven in November. Why waste time? When something’s right, it’s right.”

Yes, but were she and Al right? If they were, wouldn’t her heart have leaped for joy when he proposed? Or was that a silly girlish dream? Kids reacted with emotion; adults had to be rational. Her girlfriends were always teasing her that she was such a romantic. They thought it was cute, but she guessed it wasn’t very mature. Romantic dreams only came true in movies and novels, not real life.

Except, her friends seemed to have found amazingly wonderful men…

Was Al an amazingly wonderful man? He was nice, great even, but somehow the adjectives amazing and wonderful had never sprung to her mind.

Did he actually love her? He hadn’t said so, not tonight and not in the weeks they’d been dating. She could ask—but then he might ask her back, and she wasn’t sure how she’d answer. She was fond of him and that fondness had been growing but—

His grip tightened, cutting off her train of thought. “Rina, focus! It would be silly to wait any longer. We’re compatible, we have a good time together, we’re not getting any younger. It’s not that complicated.”

But it was. At least for her. And because it was, she couldn’t give him an answer now. Nor could she decide this alone. She needed her best friends’ advice.

Now that she’d made a decision, of sorts, she felt a surge of relief and her heartbeat steadied. She tugged her hands free. “Al, I’m flattered and honored. You’re a fine man and I care about you. But I need time to think. After all, you’ve had time.” Time to go to a store and select a ring that dozens of other women were wearing.

He sucked in a long breath and let it out slowly, audibly. “You’re right. I guess this did come as a surprise. Think it over, and you’ll see it’s the right thing. Now, shall we go to bed?”

Damn. Much as she’d been looking forward to that orgasm, she couldn’t imagine having sex with Al tonight. Gently she said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” he said grudgingly, then got to his feet. “I’ll head home then.”

She stood too, then picked up the jeweler’s box. The diamond sparkled up at her before she closed the box and handed it to Al.

It really was a lovely ring; she could see why it was so popular. And in a way it was kind of sweet how he’d chosen it, figuring he’d have the best chance of pleasing her by picking a favorite design.

It was so typically Al. He was a steady, practical, considerate man. The kind of guy who’d make a perfect husband and father.

Perfect, if only there’d been a dash of romance and a spark of passion between them, she thought as he gave her a quick, dry good-night kiss at her door.

Lips, soft yet insistent, pressed against hers, urging her to open for him.

Rina sighed against them, then his tongue was stroking her lips, sweeping into her mouth. She answered him, hunger flooding her body as their kisses grew more demanding and passionate.

His mouth left hers and she moaned at the loss.

But then she felt his fingers tracing the lines of her face, her neck. Down to mold her breasts, caress them, gently squeeze her nipples.

She moaned again, as each touch sent echoes of sensation coursing to her pussy.

The room was dark; she couldn’t see him. Yet she knew who he was.

His fingers drifted down her stomach and now he created magic no other man ever could. The soft curve of her belly was the keyboard, and he the pianist. Playing a melody that was a private, very sensual message between them.

And then his fingers played lower, across her mons and down to her inner thighs. She spread her legs eagerly, craving his touch.

Those quick, deft fingertips darted across her vulva, and she could no longer tell whether he was playing a tune or simply playing her. His mouth was there too, licking, sucking, blowing soft air across her hot, damp flesh. Her aching flesh.

Her body was so full of amazing sensations, all centered around his touch. She was an instrument and he a master musician, playing her to perfection.

She heard a sound, a keening sound, and realized it came from her own throat. Need, hunger, the peaking of desire as it built higher and higher. The sexy melody was reaching a crescendo.

His fingers played faster, driving her wild, driving her to breaking point.

Rina climaxed with an earthy cry of satisfaction.

And woke up.

Damn! Why had she been dreaming of him?

On Monday evening, Rina parked her car and checked her reflection in the rearview mirror. As usual, her hair was a mass of unruly black curls, not comb friendly. Her olive-toned skin looked pale; her summer tan was fading, and a couple of nights of near sleeplessness had taken their toll. She scrubbed her fingers across her cheeks to bring up some color, then hauled herself out of her old silver Honda. An autumn nip to the air made her pull her fringed burgundy pashmina close around her shoulders, over her black top and calf-length skirt.

As she climbed the steps leading to Kalypso Ouzeria, a Greek restaurant above Vancouver’s busy Robson Street, her heart quickened with anticipation. For two days, all through the toss-and-turn nights and the clarinet squeals and piano poundings of her students, she’d been puzzling over her dilemma. And the bottom line she’d reached was, I’ll wait for Monday. It’s Awesome Foursome night.

If anyone in the world could help her figure out what to do, it was her three best friends.

At the top of the stairs, the theme song from Zorba the Greek greeted her. She glanced around the restaurant—past dark wood tables, Greek paintings and hangings, trailing plants—up to the seating area by the windows. And there they were, Suzanne and Ann and Jenny.

She rushed over. As the others looked up, she burst out with her news. “Al proposed!”

“Oh my God!” Suzanne Brennan leaped up to hug her. “The first of us to get engaged.”

“Rina, that’s amazing.” Ann Montgomery sprang up and joined in.

“Let’s see the rock,” Jenny Yuen said, flinging herself into the group hug.

A waitress appeared, with middle-aged laugh lines and a big smile. “Champagne? Did I overhear there’s cause to celebrate?”

Rina took a step back. “No champagne! Definitely not.” She glanced around at the three familiar faces and one unfamiliar one. “I haven’t accepted. I have to think it over.”

“If you have to think—” the waitress started, then broke off. “Oops, sorry. Just wave me over when you’re ready to order.”

Rina realized that other diners and staff were staring at her and her friends. She flushed. “This is embarrassing. Let’s sit down.” She sank into a chair and slowly the others did the same, puzzled expressions on their faces.

Ann handed her a glass of red wine. “Are you all right?”

Rina nodded. Except, she wasn’t, not really. In her dream, she’d have been thrilled to bits to tell the entire world she was engaged and to have everyone fuss over her. But now, nothing felt right. She took a sip of her wine and gazed around at three concerned faces.

Jenny leaned forward, shampoo-commercial black hair falling sleekly on either side of her face. “Rina, what’s wrong? I thought everything was going great with Al.”

Rina nodded again, more vigorously, and her dangly earrings tinkled like miniature wind chimes. “It has been. But I wasn’t expecting a proposal.”

Ann touched her hand. Her hazel eyes were full of concern. “You like him, but he’s moving too fast?”

“He says, if something’s right, then do it. Why wait?”

“To make sure.” Suzanne leaned on her forearms, wavy blond hair falling over her shoulders, green eyes flashing. “Like with me and Jaxon.”

Suzanne was a vet student in Vancouver, and her lawyer boyfriend lived in San Francisco. Far enough apart that they only got to see each other every two or three weeks, for a weekend.

“Suzie Q’s right.” Jenny leaned forward too. “Every relationship is complicated; there are always so many issues. You need to see if you can work stuff out. If your feelings for each other grow.” She winked. “If the sex gets better and better or fizzles out.” She gestured with one graceful hand—going up, curving over a hump, then zooming down with a “whee-oooooops.”

“Issues,” Rina said thoughtfully. Suzanne and Jaxon had issues of geography, though thank heavens no one was making a big deal of the fact she was Caucasian and he was African-American.

The race issues were Jenny and Scott’s. Her Chinese-Canadian family hated her dating a white firefighter, and his German-Canadian farming family was no keener about a white-collar journalist of Asian descent.

And then there was Ann and Adonis. Until a few weeks ago, Ann had been a workaholic lawyer. Now she and her new guy, a laid-back massage therapist, were trying to find a lifestyle that worked for both of them.

Hmm. Rina’d been envious of the girls, having hot sex with amazing men, but the truth was, they also had serious complications to deal with. “You know, Al and I don’t have any issues. We’re compatible. We’ve never argued about anything.”

In fact, the only subject they’d disagreed on was whether they were ready to get engaged.

Ann ran a hand through her tawny hair. “Remember when I was stewing about Adonis and David? You told me to close my eyes and figure out what I really felt about each of them. Have you done that about Al?”

“I’ve been doing nothing else since Saturday night.” Well, except for having that crazy dream, which had absolutely nothing to do with Al’s proposal.

“Really?” Ann asked, affection in her eyes. “Or have you been thinking and dithering, rather than feeling?”

Jenny, who was drinking at that moment, gave a splutter of laughter that almost spewed wine across the table.

Rina had to smile, both at Ann’s comment and Jen’s reaction. “Okay, you caught me. I’ve either been dithering or telling myself not to think about it, to wait until tonight.” She glanced around, still worried but also hopeful. “I get so confused when I’m on my own. I knew you’d help me sort it out.”

Their waitress drifted by and Jenny said, “Let’s order calamari, hummus and pita to get us going.”

They all nodded agreement and the waitress topped up their wine glasses.

Then Suzanne said, “Okay, Rina, do it. Close your eyes and concentrate on your feelings. What does your heart say about Al?”

“Breathe deeply,” Ann put in. “It can help take you beyond all the surface buzz, down to a deeper level.”

Rina hid a smile. Adonis sure was having an impact on Ann. She took a long, slow drink of wine, then put her glass down. She took a breath, tried to make it go deep. Good God, she played the clarinet; if anyone knew about breathing properly, it was her.

Gradually the outside world receded. She was only dimly aware of Greek bouzouki music and the buzz of conversation elsewhere in the restaurant.

What did she feel for Al? A dentist with a successful practice, he worked reasonable hours and kept a good balance in his life. He was such a nice man. Supportive of her career. He’d come to the operatic society’s last performance.

No, wait, she was supposed to be feeling, not thinking.

Softly she said, “I always thought, when a man was The One, I’d know. Maybe that was a foolish romantic notion. Al’s great, but my heart isn’t jumping up and down for joy. When I see him, I feel a nice warm feeling, but…” She opened her eyes. “You all feel more than that, don’t you? With your guys?”

“Sparks,” Jenny said, and Suzanne and Ann nodded.

Rina sighed and reached up both hands to pull the thick curls away from her face. “I thought once we’d been lovers for a while, I’d start feeling that kind of chemistry.”

“You said the sex was good,” Suzanne said gently.

“Good isn’t good enough,” Jenny said.

“Unless it gets better by leaps and bounds each time you’re together,” Ann added. “But you’re not saying that.”

“Maybe it’s me,” Rina said. “I mean, it takes two for there to be sparks. Passion.” Like she’d felt in last night’s dream.

“Passion,” Ann repeated. “Remember what you asked me, about Adonis and David? Whether I could imagine having romantic love, a grand passion, with either?”

Rina bit her lip. “I can’t imagine having that with Al. But maybe it’s not my destiny.”

“Of course it is,” Jenny said. “You’re not even twenty-seven. Destiny didn’t hit Ann until she was an old lady of twenty-eight.” She winked at Ann, the oldest of the Foursome. “If Al doesn’t feel like The One, then wait, Rina. Your destiny will come along when the time’s right.”

“My bashert,” Rina murmured. “Aunt Rivka says Uncle David is her bashert. It’s Yiddish for destiny, and we also use it to mean that special person who’s just for us.”

“Rina?” Ann said. “You’re a romantic, and that’s great.” She hesitated. “But is it possible you’re expecting too much? Maybe no man could ever live up to your romantic vision. What if Al really is your bashert, but you’re not letting yourself recognize that?”

“That’s what I’m worried about. I don’t know how to tell.” Rina scowled just as the waitress arrived with the appetizers. “Sorry, I wasn’t frowning at you.”

“No worries.” The waitress winked as she put the plates down. “But take it from me, men can give you wrinkles.”

When she’d gone, Jenny squeezed lemon on the calamari and they each speared a ring. Rina, perennially trying to lose weight, was still pulling the batter off her first one when the others eagerly dived in for more.

She put down her fork. “So, how do I know if Al’s the right man? How do the three of you know?”

“My tough little heart turns to mush,” Jen said with a rueful grin. “Something I’d never believed was physically possible, but that’s what Scott does to me.” Her grin widened. “And you all thought I was going to talk about sex. So, not to let you down, I’ll also say the sex is off the scale, and it’s not just technique, it’s the emotional connection.”

Ann and Suzanne were nodding so hard they looked like bobble-head dolls.

“No mushy heart,” Rina said sadly. “And the sex is warm and affectionate, but not—”

“Really, really intimate,” Suzanne said.

“Where you can’t tell where one of you leaves off and the other begins,” Ann said. “It’s like you’ve merged totally together, body and soul.”

“Wow!” Distracted from her worries, Rina stared at her, wide eyed. “You really do belong with Adonis.”

“Yeah, I know.” Ann gave a smug smile, then her face sobered. “But let’s get back to you and Al.” A frown line—the one that hadn’t appeared nearly so often since she hooked up with Adonis—grooved her forehead. “You say he’s really nice, you’re so compatible, you have no issues. Rina, does he stimulate and challenge you? Make you examine what you believe and wonder if you’re right? The way Adonis did with me, about my obsession with work?”

Rina frowned too. “N-no.” She tried a smile. “But maybe I’m perfect already. Well, except for being fat, but you know, I’ve actually started doing yoga.”

“You’re not fat!” Jen screeched, as Suzanne said, “Yoga? I don’t believe it,” and Ann came in with, “I hate to say it, but no one’s perfect.”

“What?” They all stared at each other, then began to laugh.

“Yoga?” Suzanne repeated. “You hate yoga. We all hate yoga. It’s a Foursome Rule.”

Yoga was how they’d met. A couple of years ago they’d each signed up for a class, bitched about it in the change room afterward and ended up going out for coffee. An immediate bond had formed, and they’d been having dinner every Monday night since then.

“What I really hated about it,” Rina confessed, “was exercising in public. I feel so heavy and self-conscious.” When Jenny opened her mouth, Rina held up a hand. “Shut up, Jen. I know you’re going to say I’m not fat, I’m statuesque—”

“Stacked,” Jen interrupted. “Voluptuous, lush.” She went back to scooping a pile of hummus onto a slice of pita. Jenny, at five foot nothing, a hundred pounds on her heaviest day, could outeat all three of them and never gain an ounce.

“Whatever.” Rina waved a hand, dismissing the polite lies. No way, in a society where size 6 was considered big, would her abundant curves ever be acceptable. “You’re all sweet, but I have eyes in my head and I know what kind of women are considered attractive. If I lived in the days of Marilyn Monroe and Sophia Loren, I might be okay, but today curves equal fat.”

“Rina, you’re not—” Ann started

Rina cut her off. “You’re sweet, but I invoke the Agree to Disagree Rule.”

Ann sighed loudly. “All right. But we’re not being sweet. Well, Suze might be, but Jen and I don’t have it in us to be sweet.”

“Thanks, bitch,” Jen said cheerfully. “And yeah, Rina, Annie’s right.”

“Anyhow,” Rina said, “if I could get back to my point?”

They all nodded, and she said, “I decided to give yoga another try. At home, with a DVD, and only my cat Sabine to laugh at me. I’m kind of getting into it.” She raised her arm and pulled back the loose sleeve of her gauzy black top. “And even developing some muscle tone.” Then she frowned. “Not losing any weight, though.”

“Muscle weighs more than fat,” Suzanne said.

“Oh, great,” Rina groaned. “Now you tell me.” She forked up some hummus, foregoing the pita bread.

“Let’s get back to Al,” Ann said. “Rina, what was your first thought when he asked you to marry him?”

“Uh, shock, I guess.” She told them how he’d proposed.

“Jesus, men can be dunces,” Jen said with disgust.

“He said you should get married?” Ann frowned. “That’s more of an order than a proposal. Is that how it came across to you?”

“Kind of. Then when I said it was awfully soon, he got pushy. That’s not the way to win me over.”

“And it’s an indicator of what your marriage might be like,” Ann said firmly.

“I agree,” Suzanne said. “Damn, Rina, that’s too bad.”

“Better to find out now, before you invest more time in the loser,” Jen said.

A loser? Al? No, she didn’t believe that. He’d always been so considerate, until Saturday. “Damn, I’m exaggerating this. I shouldn’t have said he was pushy. Maybe he was just hurt. If he’d really thought we were heading toward marriage, and I so obviously didn’t see it coming…No wonder he reacted strangely.”

“True,” Ann said. “We shouldn’t write him off so quickly. You need to talk to him again.”

Rina nodded. Of course, he’d be wanting a “yes, I’d love to marry you,” and she wasn’t ready to give it.

“Suze?” Jenny asked, and Rina looked up to see Suzanne toying with her wineglass.

“Hmm?” she said. “Sorry. I was thinking. Rina, there’s something I’ve been wondering.”

“Yes?”

“About men. Special men. Remember a few months ago, when we were all talking about the best sex we’d ever had?”

“Giancarlo.” The thought of him sent a rush of adrenaline—the same kind of buzz as just before a performance, or in a sexy dream—rushing through her body.

“The piano man,” Jenny said. “Whose magic fingers made you come three times in a row, on top of a grand piano at Banff music school.”

“Wow, you have a good memory,” Rina said.

Jen gave a mischievous grin. “When it comes to great sex stories.”

“Anyhow,” Suzanne said, “when I tracked Jaxon down on the Internet, you were thinking about doing the same with Giancarlo.”

Rina took a breath, then admitted her guilty secret. “I did.”

“Way to go, girl!” Jenny said. “And?”

“I traced him through the alumni office at the Banff School of Fine Arts. He didn’t turn out the way I expected.” She sighed. “He was such a great pianist. Just a skinny, nothing-special-to-look-at Italian kid, but he had charisma as well as talent. We talked about our dreams and I honestly thought he’d achieve his and make it big on the concert circuit. You know, as a guest performer.”

“He was that good?” Suzanne asked.

“I thought so.” Rina shook her head. “But he sold out. Went over to the dark side.”

“The dark side?” Jen wiggled her eyebrows. “Sounds kinky.”

“He’s a music video director. Yuck. Should’ve known, with the last name Mancini, he’d go crass and commercial.”

The other three glanced at each other. “Huh?” Jenny said.

“As in Henry Mancini?” Rina said.

Three more blank looks. Rina sighed. “He wrote the Pink Panther theme? ‘Moon River’ from Breakfast at Tiffany’s?”

“I love the Pink Panther,” Jenny said. Predictably, because she was addicted to pink.

“And ‘Moon River’ is lovely,” Suzanne said. “Very romantic. I’m surprised it doesn’t appeal to you, Rina.”

“It’s a catchy tune.” Rina said the last two words with distaste. “Mancini wrote catchy tunes.”

“You say that like it’s a sin,” Ann said. “What’s wrong with catchy, popular songs?”

“They’re beneath the talents of a classical musician.”

“Music snob,” Jenny taunted.

Rina smiled. “That’s not an insult, you know.” She turned to Ann, who was spearing the last piece of calamari. “What do you think of lawyers who work in shopping centers and turn out conveyance after conveyance, or will after will? Like, maybe it’s beneath their talents?”

Ann grimaced. “I see your point. Yeah, I’m a law snob. I like the high-end, intellectual stuff.”

“Anyhow, speaking of music,” Rina said, “I so don’t need distractions right now. I have another audition for the VSO on Friday.”

“That crazy Vancouver Symphony Orchestra,” Ann said. “Why can’t they make up their minds?”

“Last go-round, they opened the auditions only to Canadian citizens. I know I played well, and I’m sure others did too, but for whatever reason they weren’t satisfied. So they went international, and they’ve finally scheduled the auditions.”

“Poor Rina,” Suzanne said. “That must be so frustrating. I know how badly you want to play principal clarinet for them.”

“Yeah. It’s my dream.” Another dream, but this one might actually be achievable. Though the fact that they hadn’t chosen her in the last set of auditions was definitely ego damaging.

Their waitress came up to ask, “Want another bottle of wine? Something more to eat?”

“Yes, and yes,” Jenny said. “How about dolmades, and an order of that yummy roasted lamb to split?” She glanced around.

Suzanne and Ann nodded, and Rina joined in. She loved food though she tried to stick to protein and veggies.

When the waitress had gone, Rina brushed her audition angst aside and thought again of her one-time lover. “When I Googled Giancarlo, I found out he’s been directing videos all over the world. A few months ago he was in Vancouver. Then New York, Paris, Vegas. Now he’s actually back here again.”

“He’s in Vancouver?” Jen said. “Hey, that’s fate. You have to see him.”

Rina shrugged. “We’d have nothing in common. He lives this fast-paced, commercial life. He’s not the same person I used to like. And he wouldn’t like me either. I love my life, my little house and garden, my music students, my job with the operatic society, but the whole thing would bore him to tears.” She laughed. “Truth is, we’d bore each other to tears. I am so not interested in those God-awful videos.”

“Maybe he still has magic fingers,” Jenny teased.

“I doubt it.” Only in her dreams.

Her expression must have given her away, because Jen said, “Okay, spill. What’s up?”

“I dream of him sometimes,” Rina said softly. “Like, last night.”

“Last night, the night after Al proposed?” Jenny demanded.

“Yeah, that last night.”

“Your subconscious is definitely telling you something,” Ann said. “What would it hurt to get in touch with him and find out if the two of you still have that magical something?”

“I agree,” Suzanne said. “I got together with the special guy from my past, and look how it turned out.”

“I don’t think Giancarlo and I are going to fall madly in love,” Rina said dryly.

“Ah”—Jenny lowered her voice to sound witchy and mysterious—“but who are you to mess around with destiny? He’s here, you’re here, maybe he’s your—what was that word?”

“Bashert,” Rina said softly. Then she shook her head. “Of course he’s not.”

“But you said he was the best, right?” Jenny probed. “The best sex you’d ever had?”

Rina nodded. “The first sex, and the best.”

“Wow.” Ann looked impressed. “That’s saying a lot. What made him the best? Those fingers?”

“Partly. And the way we connected, on all levels.”

“You so have to see him,” Suzanne said firmly.

“I don’t know.” Rina sat back as their waitress came with a fresh bottle of Greek red wine and filled all their glasses. Then she said briskly, “Enough about me. I know what I need to do. Talk to Al again, see how it goes, concentrate on my feelings. So, what’s happening with everyone else? Ann, sounds like you and Adonis are doing great.”

Ann, who had classic features and a totally classy presence, grinned like a teenager who was crushing over the boy of her dreams. “Yes. He’s teaching me more about tantric sex, and on Sunday we went kayaking again and I’m actually getting it. Then we did dinner with his family, and I swear, they’re addictive. If I didn’t l-like Adonis for himself, I’d want him for his family.”

“She almost said the L word,” Jenny pointed out.

“It’s too soon,” Ann protested, but her cheeks were pink. She broke off as their waitress brought the stuffed vine leaves and roasted lamb, and they all helped themselves. Then she lifted her head. “I keep thinking, if I hadn’t met Adonis, I might have actually ended up with David.” She wrinkled her nose. “Think of the life I’d have had. I’d have missed so much.”

“How’s your mom doing with all this?” Rina asked. Ann’s mother had raised Ann alone and taught her that career achievement was the only important thing in life. Women’s lib taken to a bizarre extreme, as far as Rina was concerned.

Ann’s lips twisted in a half smile, half grimace. “She’s disappointed. She keeps trying to persuade me to see the error of my ways. It’s rough, because I’ve always been so oriented to wanting her approval.”

“Stick to your guns,” Jenny said firmly. “Or, in this case, your guy.”

Rina, whose own mom—now deceased—had been pretty damned controlling, nodded in agreement.

“Oh, I intend to,” Ann said. “My life’s so much happier, and healthier, since I met Adonis. More exercise and sleep, regular meals—”

“Regular sex,” Jen broke in with a wink, and Suzanne added, “And massage on demand. I could sure go for that.”

Rina forked up some of the Greek salad that came with the lamb. “All the same, I bet your mom’s worried about you. She loved and trusted a man, and he betrayed her. Now she’s probably afraid the same thing will happen to you.”

Moms were protective. Rina knew that. Her own mom had wanted so much for her. Too much. To be slim, popular, a great musician, a good Jew. They’d rubbed each other the wrong way a lot of the time, and Rina had been more of a daddy’s girl. But now that both her parents were gone and Rina was older, she could see how much they’d both loved her and wanted the best for her. Her mom, like Ann’s, had just been more aggressive about it.

Ann’s face had softened. “Thanks, Rina. It would be so nice if she’d accept—well, at least try to understand—what I’m doing.”

And that would be especially tough, because Ann’s mom was in Toronto and lived for her work. Phone calls with her daughter were rare, visits even more so. “I’m sure she will,” Rina said hopefully. “Maybe not right away, but in the long run. It might help if she met Adonis.”

“Speaking of which,” Jenny said, “it’s getting so old, no one having met anyone else’s man. I mean, when I think of Suze’s Jaxon, all I see is Denzel Washington. And Ann, my picture of Adonis is a Greek god statue who’s much better endowed.”

“Much, much better.” Ann’s eyes twinkled.

“And we’ve all seen Scott, a whole lot of Scott,” Rina teased, “when he did that sexy dance number at the firefighter calendar competition, but we’ve never met him.”

Suzanne turned to Rina. “And then there’s Al. Maybe.”

Rina groaned. “Perhaps I am expecting too much. No real live man could measure up to my romantic dreams. So he got a little pushy; he was upset. And yeah, we don’t have sparks, but maybe that’s because we’re so compatible. Compatible’s a good thing.”

“You need to see Giancarlo,” Ann said quietly. “You’ll never be sure if Al’s right for you until you resolve the past.”

“I don’t think I have the guts.”

Jen groaned and Ann waved a hand to hush her, then said briskly, “What’s the worst-case scenario? One, he doesn’t remember you. Two, he remembers but doesn’t want to see you. Three, he sees you and, as you suggested, the two of you bore each other to tears. The important thing is, you’ll be able to get him out of your mind. And your dreams.”

“And focus on whether Al’s The One,” Suzanne agreed.

“On the other hand,” Jen grinned wickedly, “you might have another triple-O.”

Driving home to her bungalow in North Van, Rina thought back to how she’d left things with Al on Saturday night. After they’d kissed, she’d said she’d give him a call. He’d asked, “When?” and she’d answered, “I’m not sure.”

Had he actually muttered, “Let me know when you come to your senses”? She didn’t trust her memory. At that point, she’d been too distraught.

And tonight she’d hoped that somehow, magically, the girls would help her reach a “yes or no” decision.

Well, at least they’d helped her figure out a starting point. Talk to Al again. And maybe a second one: contact Giancarlo. Could she?

She drove up the lane beside her house and parked in the old-fashioned one-car garage. Outside, the garden smelled of autumn. Leaves were turning color and starting to fall. It was probably time to dig up bulbs or prune shrubs. She’d have to ask Mrs. Zabriski, the neighborhood’s garden expert, once the VSO audition was over.

Rina gave a sigh of relief as she walked up the back steps and into the welcoming embrace of her cozy home. She was so happy to have a permanent home of her own that she’d bought, decorated and loved.

“Mmrp?” Sabine prowled into the kitchen and Rina squatted down to say hello. Three years ago she’d adopted the shorthaired calico as a kitten from an animal rescue society.

Rina sank her short-nailed musician’s fingers into the soft white fur of the cat’s breast. Scratching and stroking, she worked her way up to Sabine’s chin and ears. The cat arched into her hands, purring happily.

“The girls say I need to contact Giancarlo,” Rina said.

Sabine tilted her head, slitting her lovely green-gold eyes.

“The idea scares the shit out of me,” Rina confessed. “But I think they’re right.” She did need to resolve her past before she could decide about the future.

Though she’d dated a few guys, Giancarlo had been the only one she’d ever had strong feelings for. That summer she was seventeen, they’d felt like soul mates. The skinny small-town Italian boy, the fat Jewish girl who called no place home. What they’d had in common was big noses, big dreams and amazing sex. They’d both had the sense to realize it was a summer thing, though. When they’d talked about keeping in touch, they’d agreed it was pointless.

And she’d never regretted that. Not seriously. But it was time to stop fixating on that summer thing and get on with her life.

She straightened, then lifted Sabine into her arms and headed toward the music room. It occupied what had originally been the dining room of her one-bedroom house, and was the room where she practiced and taught. It housed her piano, five clarinets, desk and computer.

When Rina put the cat down, Sabine leaped onto the desk chair, then to the top of the desk, as if to supervise.

Rina sat down in front of her computer. “Giancarlo probably didn’t fixate on me. In fact, chances are he doesn’t remember me.”

“Mmrrr?” Sabine responded, in a tone that sounded amazingly like, “You really think so?”

Rina chuckled softly. “Yeah. I mean, we were kids, it was so long ago. He’s in this whole music video thing, with gorgeous, svelte performers. Famous ones, up-and-coming ones. He’s successful enough that even if he’s still a skinny guy with a big nose, I bet he’s had more sex in a month than I’ve had in the whole time since I last saw him.”

No response from Sabine. The cat had gone to sleep.

“See, I even bore you, and you love me.”

Okay, time to stop stressing and procrastinating and get it over with. Rina typed in the e-mail address she’d found on Giancarlo’s website, then paused at the subject line.

Blast from the past

she finally typed. Then she tabbed to the message box.

I came across your name the other day, Giancarlo. It brought back memories of Banff, when we were both naïve young music students. Don’t know if you remember me, but I was the pianist who also played clarinet, who…

She paused. What on earth did she intend to say? Who you had sex with all summer? Nope, not good. Either he remembered or he didn’t. She backspaced over the last few words, leaving it at,

Don’t know if you remember me.

Then she added,

Anyhow, if you do and feel like catching up, I live in Vancouver and maybe we could get together. I see from your website you’re in town for a few days.

She stared at the screen. Jenny would say, be more assertive.

But that was Jen. Rina was the passive type. Set it up to give the guy the opportunity and see if he took it.

In other words, leave it in the hands of fate.