When The Lights Go Out...

She had to be six feet tall in those witch’s shoes she was wearing, and her blond hair, long and straight except where it curved at the ends, was thick and shiny.

Maybe a little too shiny. She wouldn’t have been able to shower and wash it this morning at the Telegraph offices. The gunk on her eyes was half-on, half-off. Well, not off. It was still on her face, just not in the right places. Those dark circles under her eyes weren’t exhaustion, they were eye makeup.

Who was he kidding? Cleaned up she’d be a stunner, a dream of a woman, just the kind of woman he was accustomed to dating, but more so. Then why did he keep glancing toward that kitchen door, hoping for another peek at the little red-haired, green-eyed Orphan Annie-type he’d—he’d—

It usually took him a few weeks to turn romance into a tangle that had to be straightened out. This time he’d done it before the first date.

“We can grill some toast,” Blythe was saying. “It’ll be good with the eggs.”

“This is turning into a full breakfast,” Garth answered her. “Maybe we should sit at the table.”

“That’s a good idea. I’ll set the table while you finish up in here.”

“No, no, I’ll do it. You pour the juice.”

Their happy voices were driving him crazy. “What exactly did I mess up?” he asked Candy, folding his arms across his chest and glaring at her.

“A perfect relationship,” Candy snapped. “Blythe needed somebody to have sex with, sure, but I knew she and Garth would have more in common than sex. And—” she moved a step closer, smiling sexily at his angry expression “—I knew you and I would make sparks together.” The smile faded. “And still will,” she said with a determination that made Max nervous. He was trying desperately to put the set of unrelated facts together, read some sense into what was going on here.

“Sorry, it just didn’t turn out that way,” he said, trying to look sorry. “It was the blackout that messed it up, not me. I was here by invitation, your invitation,” he reminded her, “but due to the circumstances, Blythe was the Good Samaritan who got me out of the elevator with her comb.”

It must have been his mention of the comb that made her blink, because her anger only escalated. “A frigging nameless Good Samaritan, apparently?”