Tame An Older Man

“I’m not sure about colors yet,” Elise said, “but I was thinking maybe a pale yellow for the bridesmaid dresses.”

“Only if you want me to look like a corpse,” Phoebe said flippantly, then wished she’d thought before she’d spoken. Elise should be allowed to pick any color she wanted. It didn’t matter that yellow washed out Phoebe’s skin and made her hair look like straw.

“I forgot—you do look dreadful in yellow. No offense.”

“None taken. Don’t worry about that, though. Pick whatever color you like best.”

“No, no, I don’t want any Night of the Living Dead bridesmaids. Maybe pink—”

“Pink? On a redhead?” Daisy said. “Clash city.”

“You’re right,” Elise said. “Well, I’ll think some more.”

“Let’s get back to Wyatt,” Daisy said. “What are you going to do about him, Phoebe?”

“Me?” Phoebe hoped her friends couldn’t see the sweat popping out on her forehead. “Why would I do anything with him?”

“Because the man is clearly besotted with you,” Daisy said. “At the party he was staring at you like a cat eyeing the last sardine.”

Chapter Four

Wyatt was having a Tuesday that put all other bad Tuesdays to shame. He was beginning to wonder if he would ever get used to temperamental guests on the show, especially now that he was dealing with so many of them. “Heads Up” wasn’t just an ordinary talk show. It dealt with trends—anything cutting edge, from the newest hot movie star to the latest in gene therapy. His hosts—a young, romantically involved couple—were hip and charismatic, and they were adept at getting past both glib sound bites and technobabble. Despite the show’s wide-ranging subjects—going against the television industry’s niche marketing philosophy—it was drawing a good-size audience from a wide demographic.