The Girls Of Mischief Bay

“She’s twenty-eight. So the reunion is right on time.”

Pam sipped her wine. “I was shocked. I’m not ready to have a daughter that old.”

“Too late to send her back now. She’s used.”

Despite her earlier distress, Pam laughed. “Don’t let her hear you say that.”

“I won’t.” He smiled at her. “And you’re not old, sweetheart. You’re barely in your prime.”

“Thanks.” She heard the timer chime and stood. “That’s our dinner.”

He scooped up Lulu and followed Pam back to the kitchen. As Pam went about serving the meal, she reminded herself she was a very lucky woman. That a bit of sagging and a few lumps and bumps didn’t change who she was as a person. Her life was a blessing. If there weren’t any tingles anymore, well, that was to be expected. Wasn’t she forever hearing that you couldn’t have it all?

* * *

It’s just drinks, Shannon told herself as she pushed open the door that led into Olives—the martini bar/restaurant where she was meeting her date. Her online date.

She wanted to pause and maybe bang her head against the wall. Why did she do this to herself? It never went well. Dating wasn’t her strong suit. It just wasn’t. She was a successful businesswoman. She earned mid six figures and fully funded her 401K every single year. She had friends, she had a beautiful condo with an ocean view. Okay, there had been a string of boyfriends over the years and she’d been engaged twice, for no more than fifteen minutes each time. But no marriage. Not for her.

The truth was, she didn’t have good romantic relationships. Maybe it was her, maybe it was men, but she had to accept the truth that having it all simply wasn’t going to happen. Not to her. So why was she back dealing with the nightmare that was dating? Worse—online dating.

The only saving grace was that ProfessionalLA.com was a halfway decent site that actually screened subscribers. So the guy was going to look like his profile picture and wouldn’t have any felony convictions in his past. But the distance from that to happily-ever-after seemed insurmountable.

Still, she was here. She would go in and say hi. She would be pleasant and as soon as she was able to duck out without seeming wildly rude, she would run back to her office, get her car and head home. One glass of wine, she promised herself. She could survive that. Maybe what’s-his-name would be great.

She paused for a second, as panic set in. What was his name? Crap. Double crap. She kept moving even as her brain hustled toward whatever synapses stored short-term memory. Andrew? A something. Adam? Right. Adam. Adam something she would never remember. He sold cars maybe. He was about her age, divorced and possibly blond?

She made a mental note to spend a little more time with the profiles, even as she scanned the people in the bar and hoped to find someone who looked vaguely familiar.

A man rose and smiled at her. He was about six feet, with dark hair and eyes and a crooked smile. He was tanned and fit, but not in a look-at-me kind of way. And he was staring at her as if she had a monkey on her head.

She did her best to appear casual as she glanced over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t being followed by Taylor Swift or someone else who would cause a grown man to simply stare. There wasn’t anyone of note. So she kept moving toward him and hoped for the best.

“Shannon?” he asked as she got closer.

“Yes. Hi.”

“I’m Adam.” He held out his hand and they shook. “Thanks for meeting me.”

He continued to look at her in a way that made her wonder if she’d forgotten to check her teeth or had grown a wart on her nose in the five minutes it had taken her to walk from the office to the bar. It couldn’t be that she looked different from her picture. She’d used a business head shot. Nothing that would overpromise.

They sat down.

Olives was the kind of place that catered to locals and tourists alike. The bar was well lit, without a diner feel. Tables were spaced far enough apart that you didn’t have to worry about everyone listening to your conversation. The restaurant was upscale-casual, with an eclectic menu. Except for a few paintings of olives and martini glasses on the walls, they hadn’t gone crazy with the motif.

Shannon liked it for a first date because she came here just enough to be familiar with the staff and all the exits. If a first date went bad, she could easily call for help or bolt. It was also within walking distance of her office, which meant she didn’t have to worry about a second drink before driving. If it was time to leave, but she wasn’t ready to get behind the wheel, she simply returned to her office and did something mindless until she was ready to make the six-minute commute to her condo.

Adam’s gaze was steady. Shannon couldn’t stand it anymore.

“You’re staring at me,” she said, trying to keep her voice as friendly as possible. “Is something wrong?”

His eyes widened, then he glanced away before returning his attention to her. “No. Sorry. Jeez, I’m being an idiot. It’s just…you. Wow. You sent a picture and it was so great, I figured there had to be a mistake. Then when I saw you just now and you were even more beautiful in person…” He verbally stumbled to a stop, then cleared his throat.

“Can we start over or do you want to leave?”

His expression was both chagrined and hopeful. Shannon tried to remember the last time anyone had been so rattled by her looks. She knew she was pretty enough and when she made an effort, she could up her game, but she wasn’t the kind of woman who left men tongue-tied. Or staring.

She smiled. “We can start over.”

“Good. I’ll do my best not to be scary.” He smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Shannon.”

“Apparently.”

He chuckled and motioned to the server. “What can I get you to drink?”

She ordered a glass of the house red while he chose a Scotch. He added the fruit and cheese plate to the order. When they were alone again, she leaned back in her chair.

He was nice, she thought. A little awkward, which meant he didn’t date a lot. At least he wasn’t a player. She didn’t need any more of them in her life. Divorced, if she remembered correctly.

“So, Adam,” she said. “Tell me about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?”

Everything that had been in his profile, she thought, wishing she’d paid just a little more attention. The thing was she didn’t like online dating. She counted on the service to screen the men and then moved fairly quickly to a meeting. For her, emails and a couple of calls didn’t provide any insight into how things would go in person.

“Do you live in the area?” she asked.

“Sure.” The smile returned. “I was born and raised right here in Mischief Bay. Most of my family is still in the area, which means it’s hard to get away with anything.”

“Do you try to get away with things?”

The smile turned into a laugh. “I gave that up when I was a teenager. I’m a bad liar and if I cross the line, I get caught. So I don’t bother with either anymore.”

His smile faded. “You’re not in to bad boys, are you?”

She had been, and had the heart scars to prove it. “Not anymore. They’re great in theory, but life isn’t about theories. It’s about real people who take the time to show up.”

“I agree.”

They were on opposite sides of a small table. Adam leaned toward her. “You’re in finance?”

“Yes. I’m a CFO for a software company.”

She tried to speak normally, knowing that when she mentioned her job she tended to be both defensive and proud. An awkward combination at best.

The problem was some men resented her success and some men were intimidated by it. A few had seen her as a way to the easy life, but fortunately they weren’t usually very subtle about their hopes of being kept. The ones who accepted that she’d done well and worked hard were often the keepers, albeit rare and therefore hard to find.

“Are you in line to be president next?” he asked.