Chapter Ten

After getting Becca to bed, Pia headed back to her own room. Too wound up to sleep, she reached for the remote. She surfed channels for a few minutes before the talented cast of Waiting to Exhale captured her attention. As her eyes watched Robin try to shake off her no-good ex, Pia’s mind replayed her evening.

So far, tonight had been a complete bust. First that idiot bore, Mike, followed by little girl lost, Rebecca. Surprisingly, Pia felt more disappointed than she’d have thought. Initially she’d been so apprehensive about going, and now she was upset that it had ended so abruptly. Now she would have to return to New York with all the cobwebs she’d arrived with still clogging up her dating game.

“You know the baby is going to have more than one mama, girl.”

The familiar line turned Pia’s attention back to the movie. The characters were all gathered around a bonfire, raising a toast to the New Year and the new life Robin was about to bring into the world. The scene was a harsh reminder that Pia was in the uncomfortable position of needing the exact thing she claimed she no longer wanted.

“Screw this,” she declared, turning off the television and grabbing her purse and hotel key.

Pia stepped into the elevator certain that the bubbles in her stomach alone could lift her to the penthouse bar. She was nervous. It had been an awfully long time since she’d been on the prowl, but Pia refused to leave California the same woman as when she’d arrived.

She could hear the pianist’s cover of Sade’s “Lovers Rock” as she approached her destination. That’s right, she reminded herself, slip into your cool charisma. Pia walked into the bar and paused to scout out the place. Other than a group of what appeared to be beer-drinking salesmen, a few workshop-mates, and a couple engaged in private conversation in the corner, pickins were slim to none.

Pia approached the piano, returning the player’s smile with a wide grin. Did he just wink at me? Pia wondered. As she passed, the song changed to “The Girl from Ipanema” and Pia glanced back to find the piano man looking directly at her as he sang the enticing story of the tall and tanned seductress.

“Hey, darlin’, you’re back. How did things go?” a Texas drawl called out, pulling Pia out of her musical flirtation.

Surprised to hear Flo’s distinctive voice, Pia turned to find her friend sharing laughter and a plate of calamari with an attractive older gentleman. Apparently on the way back to the hotel she’d found a nursing home for the fine over fifty.

“Becca was in rare form,” she said while the two engaged in an ocular exchange of What’s up? and I’ll fill you in later.

“Pia, this is Dr. Clay Bickford. Clay, Pia Jamison.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said, standing and shaking her hand in a gentlemanly manner.

“Clay is in town for a dental surgeons’ convention. Pia’s here at the WMS workshop with me.”

You told him? Pia’s eyes shot back.

“Perhaps you could help me. I’ve been trying to figure out what WMS stands for. My first guess was ‘Women Making Sushi.’”

“Pathetic, right?” Florence jumped in. “I told him no self-respectin’ Texan would travel all this way to learn how to roll up raw fish in some rice and seaweed. That’s a meal for cats, not cowboys. I told him it was workshop on weavin’ magic spells—”

“Which I’m inclined to believe, as this little lady has got me spellbound,” Clay said, raising his glass in a silent toast. Pia’s eyes immediately locked on to his hand. No ring. No telling tan line. Perhaps the doctor was on the up-and-up. It was clear that he was interested. Clay was openly flirting, and Florence, blush creeping up her cheeks, was enjoying every second of it.

“Oh, darlin’, that’s just the Jack Daniels talkin’, ’specially if you’re callin’ me little,” Flo insisted, downplaying his compliment.

Pia was surprised and thrilled by the flirtatious banter flying back and forth between them. Clay was giving Florence what neither she, Becca, nor Joey could—confidence in herself as a woman. She could now go home and face Dan, buoyed by the fact that a handsome stranger in a hotel bar in San Francisco had found her attractive.

“So ladies, don’t keep me in suspense. What does WMS stand for?”

“Women in Marketing and Sales. We’re here for a…uh…refresher course,” Pia offered with a sly twist to her lips.

“I’d say that about sums it up,” Flo agreed.

“Please join us,” Clay offered, though it was clear to Pia that he was just being polite.

“Thanks, but no. I don’t want to interrupt. I just came up for a nightcap. Nice to meet you, Clay, and I’ll see you at the morning session,” she told Florence with a playful smile.

Pia took a seat near the window and waved over the waitress then gave the place another once-over while waiting for her drink. No other patrons had arrived, and even the piano man was gone. She glanced at her watch. It was already 11:25. Things weren’t looking good.

Okay, cupid. Not looking for a keeper, just a playmate for tonight. Somebody to help me get back up on the bike and riding again. Please let him be sexy, polite, and, above all, patient.

Pia stared out at the city. It was a clear night and the city lights stretched out before her. There was something very seductive about this town. Or maybe it was just her mood.

“For you, pretty lady,” an unfamiliar voice said, pulling Pia’s attention from the view and her mythological request. As the piano player placed her champagne cocktail on the table, she noticed his smooth, well-manicured hands. She smiled as she stole a quick glance at his shoes, which were also well kempt. Experience had taught her that any man who took care of his hands and shoes generally applied that same attention to detail when it came to taking care of business.

“Thank you,” she said, looking up to inspect his attractive chestnut brown face, lit by the bright shine of his dazzling smile. Good move, Cu! she congratulated, offering high fives in her head.

“I’m Argent,” he said, smiling with eyes that said much more than hello.

“Pia.”

“Short. Sweet. Difficult to forget.”

Okay. Boy Toy has game. And up close he certainly did look young. Were those puka shells around his neck? But there could be no denying—the boy was a hottie. And for the first time in a long while, Pia’s desires were such that toys and fantasies just weren’t going to cut it.

“You’re staring at me,” Argent commented with a devastating grin. “What are you thinking?”

“Truthfully? I’m thinking you look way to young to…uh…to be working at a bar.”

“I’m twenty-three and completely legal.”

A quick calculation revealed their seventeen-year age difference. Pia was certainly old enough to be his big sister and in far too many neighborhoods his mother. Pia felt like the infamous Mrs. Robinson lusting after this young man, but tonight the pursuit of the forbidden was part of the thrill. And if she was to be honest with herself, with her rusty game seducing a young man was sure to be much less complicated—and ultimately more successful—than trying for an older, more experienced one. But still…twenty-three?

With Argent standing in front of her, Pia looked into his face as she crossed her legs, enjoying the way the rise in his desire caused a slip in his cool. She felt as if she were on a movie set. With her drink in one hand, all she needed was a cigarette in the other to complete this surreal seduction scene.

“Do you mind if I join you?” he asked.

“No. Please do,” Pia replied, smiling into his eyes. “Thank you for the song.”

“It seemed fitting. You do move like a samba,” he replied.

“So, Argent, just why did you come over to me tonight?” Pia asked, curious to see how bold this young man truly was.

“Well, when you walked into the bar and we smiled, well, I thought we had this thing between us,” he replied, nervously licking his lips.

“And do you still feel this thing between us?” she asked while trying to gauge her own interest. On a scale of one to ten, it was hovering somewhere around a very promising seven.

“Yes, ma’am, I do.” Argent smiled while saying the one thing that turned her blossoming desire into lust lost.

Make that negative seven. Whatever sexy notions she had about taking this boy to bed and schooling him in the lessons of love had just been squashed and had morphed into the desire to take her old ass to bed—alone.

“You’re very sweet,” she told him, “and I am thrilled that you stopped by, but I’m really very tired. You know, jet lag.”

“Oh. Yeah, right.”

“This may not be our night, Argent,” Pia said, leaning in close and whispering in his ear, “but know that for many years to come, you will be my fantasy.” She kissed him slowly and sweetly on the cheek, stood, and walked away, leaving him there, hard as hell and feeling like a winner. Funny, she felt like a winner as well.

Damn! As much as she’d hated to admit it, and probably never would to Darlene, this workshop had been good for her. She was beginning to feel like the old Pia, and that was a very good thing.