Why do married friends, who never meddled before saying their vows, have this genetic compulsion to fix up their perfectly happy single friends? Is it some sort of plot? There should be a law. No Special Dinners. Ever.
Chapter 4
Honestly, Rina, I can’t.” Tanzy pushed her sunglasses up and squinted through the blinding glare of the winter sun on her windshield. It had been a long morning already, beginning with this week’s Barbara Bradley Show taping at the crack of dawn and ending with a screaming cell phone call from “Santa,” whose girlfriend apparently hadn’t been too happy when Tanzy had outed their little tryst in her column. Another downside of being the brains behind “Tanzy Tells All.”
Men were afraid. Very afraid.
She smiled. Considering Santa hadn’t exactly filled her stocking, his girlfriend was probably better off looking for her presents under another tree anyway. Still, she made a silent pact with herself. No more nooners. She wasn’t really the nooner type anyway. That had been an aberration, the act of a lost lamb suddenly abandoned by her herd. Though she had to admit it had been amusing, checking into the Four Seasons with Santa for the afternoon.
“Come on,” Rina wheedled. “It’ll be fun.”
Tanzy adjusted the headset of her cell phone, just before swerving around yet another car trying to squeeze in between the throngs already tucked bumper to bumper along Stockton. She liked shopping as much as the next guy, but not when every man, woman, and foreign national with diplomat tags was shopping with her. Shopping was something a person did on impulse. Preferably when handbags were on sale. Enforced holiday shopping, on the other hand, should be outlawed.
Taking a deep breath, she returned to the conversation. “Ri, you of all people know better.”
“But, sweetheart, it’s precisely because it is me of all people that you should say yes. You know I wouldn’t steer you wrong.”
“You’ve barely been married a month. What happened to my best friend? What, do you get some kind of special decoder ring when you get married? One that says ‘Have Special Dinners. Make your last remaining single friend insane.’ “
Rina laughed. “No, we get one that says ‘So what if he never picks up his socks, he’s rich, you can now afford a maaaaid.’ “
Tanzy laughed. “Just don’t do this to me, okay? And I’ll pretend you never called.”
“You haven’t even heard who I lined up for you. I know all about your alpha needs. And, by the way, I’m loving the whole bridesmaid thing in your column, despite my terrible guilt at being the one to put you in that category.”
“Yes, I can hear the pain in your voice. So leave me alone already. I’m perfectly happy. Haven’t you read the whole column?”
She ignored that, as Tanzy knew she would. Rina was a woman on a mission. “So,” she said, “is Marty loving this?”
“He’s very much loving this. When he’s not out in his new hot rod.”
“And what is up with that anyway? Since when is he a sports car guy?”
Tanzy shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s having a midlife crisis and is trying to connect with his inner wolf.”
“Do you think he actually has one?” They both laughed, then Rina said, “So I guess the reaction to your little wolf/sheep thing is still going strong?”
“The mail has been overwhelming.” Tanzy thought of one particular email she’d inadvertently clicked on last night while eating the cold pizza she’d ordered the night before after once again bypassing dinner with Riley. She’d been a week at Big Harry, and so far she’d managed to avoid having even a single meal with him. Not that he seemed overly concerned.
Last night she’d skimmed Millicent’s note informing her of a change in her suite number at the Belleview, smirking as she read the part about “hoping Riley isn’t intrusive to your busy schedule.” Was she kidding? The guy had the unobtrusive market cornered. The only one being intrusive was Aunt Millicent with her house-sitting detail. Then she’d heard the shower running and wasted a minute trying to picture Riley naked. But the only thing she could visualize was him standing there in suit and business frames, calmly sudsing his hair.
And she’d clicked past Millicent’s note without paying attention . . . and up popped SoulM8 again. She’d found herself reading it without meaning to.
I am the one you seek. Your words about desiring the wolves that prowl amongst the sheep will not divert me, my one and only. I will be the one that teaches you that you don’t have to settle. What we will have together will be beyond all glory. Wolf . . . sheep. Those are merely labels. Look beyond the surface and you will know I am the one who will claim you as my own.
She’d shuddered then and, she couldn’t help it, she shuddered now. Not that she took it any more seriously. Probably it had been the added effect of sitting in Big Harry, all alone, late at night. Well, save for Riley. But knowing he was sleeping somewhere nearby, likely in perma-press jammies, did little to reduce her spook-factor.
“So,” Rina went on, “tomorrow night, eightish. I can count on you. You won’t regret it, Tanz.”
“But what about Riley?” So he wasn’t a reassuring watchdog—she didn’t want one of those anyway, right?—but he might as well come in handy for something.
“What about him? I thought you said he was the insular type. He probably won’t even notice you’re not there.”
“I know, but I haven’t been the most attentive cohabitant.” It was a lame excuse and Rina surely knew it. But Tanzy was desperate. “I should probably have at least one dinner with him. For Millicent’s sake.”
“He can wait. I’ve got Prime A meat on the hoof, baby.”
Tanzy snickered. “And you a married woman. Have you no shame?”
“Which is why I’m generously giving the hunky Brock Marshall to you. I’ll live vicariously through your single-girl thrills and you’ll get to listen to my lady-of-the-manor stories about trying to hire good help.”
“And that’s supposed to convince me? And Brock Marshall, why does that sound familiar? Wait a minute! Isn’t that the guy from that television dating show? I thought he found his dream girl.”
“Turns out she’d been having a secret fling with one of the camera guys. The wedding’s off.”
“Great, just what I need, a guy who was jilted on national television.”
“Hey, it beats trolling the malls for hot Santa sex.”
“That’s so not funny. Remind me not to tell you anything.”
“Me and your million readers.”
Tanzy sighed. “I should have been an heiress and run respectable charitable foundations. What was I thinking, being a journalist?”
“You are an heiress. And Millicent already runs all the foundations, there’s none left. And you’re not a journalist, you’re a columnist.”
“Yeah, yeah. And I’m not coming for dinner.” She stuck her tongue out at the phone.
“I heard that.”
“I’ve been tortured enough. I’m calling a moratorium on Special Dinners as of right now. Pass the word.” Rina tried to break in, but Tanzy talked over her. “It was bad enough when Sue fixed me up with Tennis Instructor Guy.”
“I thought Viktor was cute.”
“How do you know Viktor?”
“From when Sue forced me to play doubles with her a few months ago. What was wrong with him? Didn’t he want to play doubles off the court?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t want to know.” Viktor was a towering, six-foot-five testament to why some men were destined to be alone despite being showered with all the genetic gifts. “Rina, honey, he’s thirty-three and wore matching tennis gear with Mommy.”
“Ew.”
“Exactly. Sue thought he was precious. Sure, if you don’t mind Mommy picking out your clothes, too.”
“Well, I doubt Brock’s mother had anything to do with his wardrobe.”
“Thank God. Don’t you remember her from episode six?” She and Rina shared a silent shudder.
“Okay, okay,” Rina relented, “but you’re not dating his mother. And didn’t you tell me his animal magnetism is what made you watch the show? So, maybe you can be the one to tame him.”
“What, I’m Gunther Gable Williams now?”
“Tanzy—”
“No. You don’t get it. I don’t want to tame them. In fact, it’s precisely the untamable ones I do want. I’m not cut out for anything more complicated. It’s genetic.”
“So you say, but Sloan told me—”
“Don’t get me started on Sloan. You were on your honeymoon during that travesty of a dinner party, so you have no idea.”
“She said Alec was a total alpha.”
Tanzy sighed. “Alpha, no. Neanderthal, yes. Rina, you should have seen this guy. He had more body hair than King Kong.”
“Again I’m forced to say, Eww.”
“Gave a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘running my fingers through his hair.’ “
Rina was laughing and gagging at the same time. “Okay, okay, I surrender.”
“Thank you. I’m hanging up now.”
“Don’t forget to talk to Sue about the baby shower.”
Tanzy agreed, then clicked off and tossed her headset on the passenger seat. Thank God, she thought with a heartfelt sigh. No more Special Dinners. No more dinners, no more nooners. Of course, all this was a great relief, but it didn’t solve her dating dilemma.
The bar circuit was simply not happening. Even in her twenties she’d never been one to troll for . . . well, other trolls. Which left the party circuit. The gang would still be hitting the seasonal social highlights, but it was different now. Instead of palling together to this charity event or that opening, they’d all be attending with their respective spouses. And she’d be arriving alone. How grossly pathetic. Mostly she loved being self-employed, but there were times when coworkers—namely single male coworkers—would have come in handy.
Someone pulled out right in front of her, but rather than swear and make rude hand gestures, Tanzy neatly dovetailed her little sports car onto Maiden Lane and into a newly vacated spot, smiled smugly, and strolled guiltlessly into the nearest store. Even the most dedicated shopper had to bolster her holiday buying stamina with a little self-gratification.
And if her only other gratification was going to be the kind that came with double A batteries, she certainly deserved a kick-ass Prada bag in the meantime, didn’t she?
Riley groaned and circled Union Square. Damn, but what in the hell did she need to go shopping for? He’d already scoped out her closet—in the name of surveillance, of course—and for someone who was just visiting, she had a stunning number of designer clothes, all arranged in amazingly neat rows in the ample walk-in closet.
He did have to admit that his football jersey fantasy had taken a slightly twisted turn when he’d spied those ice-pick red heels tossed carelessly in the corner. Hey, it could work. And frankly, who cared if it didn’t?
His cell phone buzzed just as he turned off on Maiden Lane and double-parked. He scooped it up, thankful for the distraction despite the phone number he spied on the display. “Hey, Pop. How’s it going?”
“I got another two days on this detail in Santa Rosa. Mr. Shackelford wants me to stick with this a little longer.”
“I thought you’d pretty much proved Mrs. Shackelford was on the straight and narrow.”
He could picture the deep lines that bracketed his father’s mouth sinking even deeper as he grinned. “They’re paying, I’m staying.”
Riley frowned. “They?”
His father cleared his throat and Riley’s frown deepened.
“So, how goes it with the rich and famous?” Finn asked, before Riley could jump in with questions of his own.
“I can name every shoe store, crystal emporium, and lingerie department in San Francisco, but otherwise, fine.”
“No action from Ernie on the perv?”
“We’re pretty sure the guy works for the service provider the emails are being sent through, but tailing him beyond that is going to be almost impossible. One break is that it’s a local outfit, so I’m hoping to get over there as soon as Ms. Harrington is otherwise occupied.”
Finn chuckled. “According to her column, that shouldn’t be a long wait.”
It made no sense whatsoever, since Riley had just been thinking the same thing, but the comment jerked his chain. “She’s not like that.” When Finn snorted in disbelief, Riley added, “From what I’ve read about her, she’s a lot of bark, but from what I’ve seen, she’s not as much in the bite department.”
“She’s doing Santa. That’s bite.” He laughed again.
“Dad, really—”
“I’d love that detail you’re on. Some of my best jobs involved—”
“Yes, I know. We really don’t want to have that conversation.” Again, Riley added silently.
“Fine,” Finn said, in a tone that indicated it was anything but. “Have it your way. But you’re missing out on some of the best perks of the job.”
Riley bit back his retort. It wouldn’t do any good anyway. “Trust me, I’m getting mine. I’m sleeping in feather down your dear ma would have cried for, and eating food fit for a professional wrestler.”
“That’s my boy. You still thinking you’ll wrap this up by Christmas?”
“I hope so. I’ve got to phone in a report to Ms. Harrington Senior this evening.”
“Fine, fine. You’ve got my number here if you need anything.”
There was the sound of a woman’s deep, throaty laugh in the background, then a rustling sound. Riley sighed.
“Listen,” his dad said, suddenly in a hurry, “I’ve got to, you know, go take care of things.”
“Please God, just tell me what you’re taking care of isn’t named Patsy Shackelford.”
“Why, Riley James Parrish, I—”
“You’re doing what you always do.” When his father said nothing, Riley sighed again. More in weary resignation than any real disgust. “Just make sure you don’t get into trouble.” Finn started to splutter, but Riley talked over him. “I’m not jeopardizing this job—this well-paying job—by having to come and bail your ass out of jail. Or worse, the hospital.” He clicked off before Finn could reply. Not that it would have mattered.
Riley scrubbed his face and sucked down the last of his cold coffee. Just when had he become the parent? Actually, he knew when, and the day had been long enough without reminiscing over that bit of painful history.
Tanzy saved him by popping out of the store just then.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, spying not one, but three shopping bags dangling from her fingers. Good thing Millicent provided her only grandniece with a bottomless pit where money was concerned. All he cared about at the moment, however, was that she’d made as much of a dent in it today as she planned to.
He blessed the fates, the gods, and anyone else who might be listening, when she turned her little deathtrap of a roadster toward Presidio Heights. Now all he had to do was keep up with her and beat her home.
And he thought beating a three-on-one defense had been tricky.