Chapter 5
5
G reer enjoyed Bernice’s brother. He could have turned his back to her and talked to his family, but he included her in everything. She appreciated that.
When she’d first arrived, she stood a few steps back from the entrance searching for Bernice. And she’d seen him, the man from the plane, knowing it was the brother Bernice had spoken of. He’d taken a seat next to the two girls, young women actually, one of whom had been sitting next to her on the plane. after hearing Bernice’s story about him, it was obvious they were his daughters. They stood up then and walked away from him, almost as an intentional insult. And she’d seen the look of pain that passed over his face before he masked it.
Then Bernice had spied her, taking over, introducing her to Nana, and finally pushing her into a seat. Right next to him . Of course she said nothing about his daughters. She didn’t even know Dean. And she admitted to feeling a little queasy sitting next to him, knowing he’d married his secretary. But then he’d been so nice to her all evening.
He’d helped her picked out delicious offerings from the buffet, and they’d talked about their jobs, her parents, his family. And now he said, “Can I show you the dessert choices?”
Dean led her once again to the buffet, the desserts at one end. The kids had already been through, leaving empty spots in the trays, but there was still plenty to go round.
“That is Tres Leches ,” he said, pointing. “It’s basically a sponge cake covered in whipped cream and dusted with cinnamon and sugar.” He leaned in close to say, “It’s to die for.” And his words melted something inside her. The man, his scent, his closeness, actually made her shiver with too much sexual awareness.
“Here we have chocoflan. Rich chocolate cake on the bottom and creamy flan on the top, drizzled with caramel. Another to-die-for dessert.” His soft breath caressed her ear.
And she felt heat rush through her. Not a hot flash, but a flash of sensual heat. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to choose.” She shook her head, trying to shake away the seductive sensations. He didn’t mean anything by his choice of words. It was her emotions going haywire after Conrad’s desertion.
“Ah, but there’s more,” he tempted wickedly. “Churros. I’m sure you’ve had those before. And of course, a regular flan. Then we’ve got Mexican wedding cookies.” They resembled the sugar-coated butter balls her mother had always made at Christmas. “And that is Capirotada , Mexican bread pudding. Last but not least, we’ve got Mexican hot chocolate pie, so called because, along with a bit of cinnamon and ginger, it has a sizzling hint of cayenne.” When she made a little chirp of excitement, he added, “You need to try a bit of everything.”
Laughing, she put her hand to her stomach. “I’m already full. I can’t try everything. So maybe just a couple.” She chose the Mexican hot chocolate pie for its spice and the chocoflan. “I never turn down flan,” she told him.
The irreverent thought washed through her that she might not want to turn down anything this man offered her. Conrad would be alarmed. But Violet would clap.
After they’d taken their seats, Bernice piped up. “I was just thinking, Phillip. Greer doesn’t have a ticket for the gondola tomorrow night. Can you get her one?”
Greer immediately jumped in. “Oh no. You don’t have to do that. Really.”
As if sensing her embarrassment, Dean said his sister’s name, but Bernice kept pushing. “Oh, you have to come, Greer. The gondola will take you out to the volcano show. You might be able to see it from your room, but it’s so much better if you’re actually down in the park at the end of the gondola ride.” She turned to her son. “Phillip?”
Phillip smiled at Greer. “Of course I can get a ticket. I’ll have it sent to your room.”
Greer felt her cheeks grow hot. “That’s really kind of you. But it’s not necessary.”
“We give them out to all our guests who go to the sales presentation.” Phillip smiled. “But you’re special. I hope you’ll enjoy the show.”
Finally, she relented. What else could she do when Phillip called her special? “Thank you. I appreciate it.” She’d love to see the volcano show without having to sit through a sales pitch to get a ticket on the gondola.
The resort was a timeshare that people could buy into for weeks during the year, though it also accepted outside guests like her. Being the manager, Phillip was pleased to tell her they had a soft sell approach rather than the usual hard sell.
Dean leaned close to say, “We can go to the show together, if you’d like.”
Oh, she would like—despite a sudden thought of Conrad and what he’d think—and instead of demurring, she said, “That would be wonderful.”
“Tell me what you think of the Mexican hot chocolate pie.”
Taking another bite, hand over her mouth as the flavors delighted her tongue, she finally said, “I’ve never tasted anything like it. It’s delicious. And so is the chocoflan.” She’d taken only small slices and had almost demolished both.
Dean put a wedding cookie on her plate. “Try this too.”
She put a hand to her stomach. Again. “I can’t take another bite.”
His brilliant smile was so engaging it made her heart flutter. “Nana always says that wedding cookies just slip down between the cracks.”
She laughed. “My mother said that about ice cream. Her favorite was mint chocolate chip with just a little bit of chocolate sauce,” she imitated her mother, using her thumb and forefinger the way Mom always had. “She loved her ice cream.”
The twinkle in Dean’s eyes delighted her. It had been five years since her parents had passed, and sometimes the loss of her mother hit her all over again. Talking about Mom’s ice cream fetish was like paying homage to her.
“And both our mothers are right. These things slip down between the cracks.”
Greer pursed her lips, then added a smile she felt in her cheeks. “All right. I’ll try it. But if I blow up like Mr. Creosote…” She left it at that.
Dean laughed loud enough for Bernice to look at him before she nudged Ralph and whispered in his ear. Dean ignored her, saying, “Mr. Creosote in Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life ? And the wafer thin mint?” He said it with the French accent that John Cleese had used in the movie.
She laughed with him. She hadn’t felt this kind of easy laughter with Conrad in months, maybe not since the first few weeks they’d lived together. They’d laughed so much before that. But after the move… he’d changed. And now it felt all new with Dean. “Yes. From Monty Python. I love that movie even if it was absolutely disgusting.”
“I agree. The worst kind of humor.” But he was still smiling. Then he asked, “What are your plans for tomorrow?”
She shrugged. She’d made no plans. Conrad had talked about the different things they could do, but he wasn’t here. “I’ll probably lay by the pool or find a lounge chair on the beach. Maybe do a little bodysurfing.”
Without a word, Dean stood, tapping his spoon against his champagne glass. “Okay. We’ve got all sorts of activities we can do tomorrow. Who’s for zip-lining?”
Several hands went up, mostly the young people.
“And who’s for hanging out at the resort, floating down the lazy river, then trying out the waterslide?”
“And we have a mini-golf course too,” Phillip added, loud enough for everyone to hear.
“We could also go into Puerto Vallarta, walk around, do a little shopping, have lunch. So who’s up for what? Resort play?”
Most of the adults raised their hands for that.
When he asked, “Puerto Vallarta?” Nana bounced in her seat at the other end of the table, her blow-up crown wobbling. “Me, me. I want to go to Puerto Vallarta.”
“Ralph and I want Puerto Vallarta too,” Bernice said.
Finally Dean asked, “So I assume the rest of you will hang out at the resort. Have we left anyone out?”
No one raised a hand.
“Good,” Phillip said. “I’ll arrange for zip-lining tickets and taxis into town.”
“You’re the man,” Dean said, sitting again.
Phillip remained standing, asking loudly, “And I need a headcount for the island show on Monday. I have to book those tickets ahead of time.”
People began raising their hands, though most of the young people, including Dean’s two daughters, didn’t add their names to the headcount. The island show, whatever it was, must be something the younger generation found a bit fuddy-duddy. They probably didn’t even know what the word fuddy-duddy meant.
Dean smiled at Greer and asked, “Bodysurfing? Or Puerto Vallarta?”
Bernice leaned forward. “Of course she’s coming with us.” Then she looked at Greer, eyebrow arched. “You have nothing else planned, right?”
Greer shook her head. “Really, I can’t keep horning in on your birthday bash.”
“You’re not horning in, silly woman,” Bernice said with a wave of her hand.
But what decided her was the long look Dean gave her and his simple words, “Please. I’d like you to come.”
Greer lay in her bed later that night but couldn’t sleep. It was probably the time change, with Puerto Vallarta being three hours ahead.
Or maybe it was the fact that she’d said yes to Dean’s invitation.
She’d been excited at the time. Excited by his attention, his interest. Excited by him . But something had to be wrong with her. Her boyfriend throws her out and only two days later, all she can think about is another man.
Were things actually over with Conrad? He’d stormed out, saying they’d discuss it when he got back. What did that mean? She didn’t want to be the kind of woman who picked up a man the moment her previous relationship ended. As if she were fickle.
Reaching to the side table for her phone, she called Violet. It was only seven thirty in the Bay Area, and Violet answered without even saying hello, “Are you totally enjoying yourself without him?”
Of course she’d told her best friend every detail about what happened with Conrad. And she went right into the important stuff. “I met a hunk.”
Violet clapped so hard she dropped the phone, the clatter sounding in Greer’s ear. Picking it up, Violet said, “Thank God.”
“I didn’t sleep with the man or anything.” She wanted to assure Violet. “He was just interesting. And his sister is matchmaking, I’m sure. But I think he liked me.”
“And you liked him?” Violet asked, her voice high with eagerness.
Greer nodded in the dark. “I did.” Then she sighed. “But I don’t even know if Conrad and I are done. He said we’d talk when he got back.”
“You know you’re done,” Violet said sternly. “You are not going back to that creep. He was a jealous ass. And then he flies off after telling you he’ll talk with you about your future later. Like he’s the only one who has a say in the matter.”
Greer got out, “I know, but?—”
Violet interrupted her. “No buts. He canceled your vacation. He accused you of cheating. He went to his mother, for God’s sake,” she said succinctly. “I mean, you might have to talk to him, sure, and you’ll need to move your stuff out of his condo. But you can stay with me until you get your renters out of your house. But you’re absolutely not going back to him.” Then she added in a questioning note, “Are you?”
Greer rolled her lips between her teeth and bit down hard. Then she said, “But I have to give my renters three months’ notice.”
She could almost hear Violet’s shrug. “So you might have to rent an apartment for a few months. Big deal.”
“Yeah,” Greer said, thinking. Until she pursed her lips and gave a definite, “No, you’re right. I can’t go back to his accusations.” But what if he apologized? She didn’t dare say that aloud, or Violet might scream.
Her relationship with Conrad had been amazing during those first few months. He was so attentive, always bringing her flowers or gifts, taking her to fabulous restaurants, to the theater or the symphony, telling her how beautiful and special and wonderful she was. They’d been dating for five months when he’d accused her of flirting with a vice president at the company picnic. Their fight had been horrible. But then he’d apologized, and he was so sorry, saying it would never happen again. He’d blamed it on the breakup with his wife, that she’d cheated on him, and that made him hypersensitive, but he knew Greer would never do anything like that. She’d understood, especially because he’d never treated her so abominably before. He’d showered her with affection after that, trying to make it up to her. And she’d believed him, enough to rent out her house and move in with him.
But that had been only the first time. And only the first of his apologies.
“So,” Violet said into her thoughts. “Tell me about this hunk you met. Where’s he from?”
A wave of warmth enveloped her, driving out worries about the future. Driving out her guilty conscience. “He’s around my age, maybe a little older. Divorced. CEO of a software company. And he’s from the Bay Area.”
Violet squealed. “From the Bay Area. No long-distance relationship. Tell me more. Exactly how hunky?”
Greer closed her eyes and brought Dean’s image to mind. “Thick dark hair with some gray, more pepper than salt. Gorgeous coffee-colored eyes. Tall, fit.” So fit, and the thought made her shiver. “And he doesn’t have that scruff all over his chin. He actually shaves.”
“Oh, thank God.” Violet moaned. “When will they get rid of that look in all the movies? It’s especially bad on the old guys.”
“There’s definitely not a single thing bad about Dean.”
Violet squealed again. “He sounds totally hot. Tell me what movie star he looks like.”
Images flashed before her eyes. “Richard Gere.”
“Oh my God. He’s so doable.”
“But Dean is at least six-two.” Several inches taller than Greer’s five foot seven.
“He sounds fabulous. But here’s the most important question. Would you kick him out of bed for eating crackers?”
Greer laughed. “Not if they came on a lovely cheese board with meats and grapes and cherries. I wouldn’t even kick him out of bed for spilling champagne.”
Violet snickered. “And what body part would he be spilling that champagne on?”
“Right down between my breasts,” Greer was quick to say. That’s what she loved about Violet. Though they were both in their fifties, their libido hadn’t slowed down, and they loved teasing each other about sex. Violet was between men right now, but she was still looking for the right one. Menopause wasn’t about to stop either of them from enjoying a full life.
“Ooh,” Violet crooned. “Then he’d have to lick it off.”
They laughed together at the delicious fantasy. Probably a little too deliriously. She still had Conrad to deal with.
“Did he ask you out?”
“They all invited me to go into town tomorrow.”
“Who is ‘all?’”
Greer forgot she hadn’t told Violet about the birthday bash. “It’s a ninetieth birthday celebration for the matriarch of the clan. All her kids are here, plus grandkids and great-grandkids and all that.”
Violet groaned. “He’s a family man.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“I really can’t say. He could be a mama’s boy.”
Greer shook her head. “He’s definitely not a mama’s boy.” She thought about his daughters and what Bernice had said, that he was trying to work it out with them on this trip. And yet they were zip-lining while he went into town with his mother.
“Well, you can’t really judge at this point. But when you get back from this vacation, I want a tell-all. Got it?”
Greer chuckled. “I’m sure there won’t be a tell-all to tell.”
They said goodbye, and Greer actually felt better. Violet was right. Conrad had treated atrociously. He hadn’t even had the courtesy to dump her outright but left her hanging as if he was the only one with the right to decide.
After the long months of his ever-increasing jealousy and control issues, what he’d done was unacceptable.
But instead of lying awake with thoughts of Conrad, she fell asleep to fantasies of hunky, handsome Dean Adamo.