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“Okay. I should get going. Thanks, this was great.”
Oh, no. Now he was becoming distant. And she was becoming miserable. She knew she had to get over Chuck sometime, and Justin was the only man she’d met in the last year that made her think she actually wanted to.
But not this. Not yet.
Justin backed up a couple of steps. “Thanks for the date, Candy.”
“No, thank you. Dinner was wonderful.” She pasted on a happy, happy smile. That was it? She wouldn’t screw him so he was done with her?
The familiar pain and panic of loneliness and rejection threatened.
Candy fought back. She was not going to dissolve again into self-pity, not around this man, not around anyone ever again.
Sexy Glamour Girl would not care a fig if a guy suddenly 78
blew her off, because with a flick of her manicured finger she could beckon the next, since they were lined up around the corner like taxis at a stand. In fact, if Justin left tonight with no mention of seeing her again, that would be completely, completely…
Horrible.
“Good night.” He was already turning to go. “See you around the block.”
She gave a brisk, cheery wave, clenching her teeth, un-locked her door, pushed inside, slammed it behind her and let the tears go. Only a few. Only for a bit. There would be others, plenty of them before there could be none. In her dating life this was A Beginning, another baby-step part of getting over Chuck and moving on. This was not anything like The End.
No matter how much it felt like it.
“Spam, spam, spam, spam. I feel like I’m starring in the Monty Python sketch.” Justin pitched his voice into a shrill falsetto.
“‘Have you got anything without Spam in it?’ Only I’m talking email, not breakfast.”
“Ha. Funny.” Troy slumped back on his couch, pushing at his dark curling hair with both hands, eyes narrowed by fa-tigue. They’d been working since noon in Troy’s living room, Troy fussing over the chapter on peripherals, Justin finishing the chapter on email. “Put that in somehow.”
“I’m sure it’s been done.”
“Not by us.”
“True.” Justin stretched his arms over his head and yawned.
“How’s the printer hookup demo going?”
“It needs a break and so do I.” Troy set his laptop onto his antique coffee table, already littered with pads, notes and reference books. His house was modest, but in a nice area of Whitefish Bay near the lake, furnished with care by his interior-designer mom. His day job as the tech guy of a local IT firm meant he wasn’t hurting for cash, and the generous advance for their book didn’t cause pain either. Troy picked up an empty coffee mug. “Caffeine or alcohol?”
“Dude, if I have a beer, I won’t be getting back to work.”
“We’ve done enough.”
“Enough?” Justin quirked an eyebrow. “It’s not even mid-night yet. And I’m starting to have some serious doubts about the way we’ve set up this spam chapter.”
“I know, I know. Something’s not right. I can’t get my brain to work today.”
Justin nodded. He’d noticed. Like when Troy had served their first cup of coffee with a healthy splash of orange juice instead of half and half. “What’s going on?”
“I slept like crap.”
“Yeah?” He hadn’t slept well himself. Candy had his brain in a stranglehold. “Noisy neighbors? Too many burgers before bed?”
“Debby called last night.”
Justin set his jaw so he wouldn’t let loose any of the words gathering in his throat. Few things pissed him off like women who threw men away, then wouldn’t let them go. His ex-girlfriend Angie had been the gold medalist of that maneuver, but Debby could easily win silver. “And how is the Divine Ms. D?”
“She misses me.” Troy laughed bitterly, got up from the couch and stalked into the kitchen, followed immediately by his golden-brown chow mix, Dylan, and by Justin.
“Let me guess. Her latest man-victim didn’t work out.”
“Bingo.” Troy yanked open his stainless refrigerator door and grabbed two bottles of Bass Ale. Dylan’s tail wagged.
