Good with His Hands(23)

Dani was carrying a laundry basket full of books and DVDs out to the truck when the phone in her pocket dinged. "Hello?"

"Dani. Glad I caught you. It's Erik Frye." He sounded frazzled.

"Tough day?" she guessed.

"Tough day for my mom. She lives alone in Savannah, and she fell down her stairs today."                       
       
           



       

"I'm so sorry. Is she okay?"

"Bruised and battered, but X-rays show nothing's broken, thank God." He  sighed heavily. "This is the third fall she's had since Christmas.  We've been trying to talk her into selling that house, but she and Dad  lived there for decades before he died. I think she feels like she'd be,  I don't know, abandoning him if she leaves."

"Well, you and I know better than most, people get sentimentally  attached to their homes." She'd seen sellers turn down lucrative offers  because they didn't have the right feeling about certain buyers,  couldn't envision the new people in "their" home.

"She's staying in the hospital tonight. I want to get down there, take  care of her for the next couple of days and revisit the single-story  ranch home discussion. My brother's in Ohio, so it's harder for him to  go, and my sister's got her kids plus the benefit she's helping run this  weekend. I hate to cancel on you for Saturday."

"Forget about me-your mom needs you. I completely understand."

"Would you be willing to go anyway? I paid for two tickets, and I'd  love for them to be used. According to my sister, the fashion show will  be entertaining. It's followed by dinner and dancing. The committee  worked hard, and they're hoping for a strong turnout. Please take the  tickets."

She looked back toward the house, thinking of how despondent Meg had  been this week. It might be best for her friend's mental health if she  got out and did something fun instead of being cooped up in Dani's  depressing apartment all weekend.

"As it happens, Erik, I know someone who could use a few hours of fun."

* * *

WHEN SEAN'S CELL PHONE rang at noon on Saturday, he was standing in his  galley-style kitchen making lunch. Turning down the burner underneath a  pot of jarred pasta sauce, he dove for the cell on the far end of the  counter. Maybe this time... Ever since he'd received confirmation of the  florist's delivery, he'd been hoping to hear from Dani.

"Hello?"

"¿Qué pasa?" Alex greeted him. "Some of the guys are meeting to play  basketball at the center. We'd planned a game of three-on-three, but  we're one short. You free this afternoon?"

"Actually, no. I was eating a quick lunch, then headed out the door. I  have a few errands to run and then I...promised some people I'd help  with something today." That was all Alex needed to know. Sean didn't  mind contributing his time to a worthy cause, but that didn't mean he  was going to blithely hand his smart-assed friend a weapon of mass  mockery.

"Okay. Guess I'll call Pete, then. You should feel special-you were our first choice."

"I feel very special. I'm writing about it in my diary even as we speak."

Alex snorted, then hung up.

In the silence that followed, Sean kicked himself for getting his hopes  up that the caller would be Dani. He'd apologized, he'd flirted, he'd  given her space, he'd sent her a gift. And what did he get in return?  Radio silence. He blew out an exasperated breath. Where was the line  between laudable persistence and being an ass who couldn't take a hint?

Hint taken, Danica.

If she had no interest in him, maybe he'd be wise to leave her alone-as  Bryce had suggested last weekend. Taking any advice from his brother  stuck in his craw. And knowing that he'd probably encounter his twin  today, not to mention his ex-girlfriend, did nothing to boost his mood.

Sean spared a wistful thought for the basketball game he'd declined.  Shooting hoops with the guys would be vastly preferable to the afternoon  and evening ahead of him. The sacrifice was for a good cause, though.  Maybe he couldn't scrawl his signature on a huge check the way some  could, but he could donate his time.

After all, raising money to help feed kids beat the hell out of sitting around and waiting for his phone to ring.

* * *

"OOH-LA-LA," MEG SAID as they sat waiting behind the other cars lined  up at the valet stand. "I've never been to a country club before."

Dani had, but not this particular one. The club was so elite a person  couldn't even view the website without logging in as a member first.  She'd discovered that when she tried to confirm the driving directions.

"You think we're dressed okay?" Meg asked.

"You look beautiful." Her friend looked like a curvy, gothic take on a  stained-glass window, but Dani was afraid that wouldn't come out  sounding like the compliment it was. Meg's dress was see-through black  lace with a handkerchief hem over a sheath of riotous colors. "Hey, if  nothing else, I'll bet you have the very best underwear of any woman in  the joint." Meg had come home late last night with a big bag of  inventory she'd liberated from the store, declaring that, given their  lousy luck lately, the two of them had earned some frivolous goodies.                       
       
           



       

"I, on the other hand, look like a very tall crayon," Dani joked.  "Something in the 'brick-red' family." Most of the dresses she owned  were too businesslike, so she'd gone with a monochromatic tunic and  pants combo. With its high boat neck and three-quarter sleeves, her top  was extremely conservative from the front. But the low drape in the back  exposed a lot of skin. The billowy, wide-legged cut of the legs added  some drama to the outfit, too.

Valets opened their car doors, and Dani stepped out into the sunshine.  It was only four-thirty now, but the event would go into the evening.

"Danica, is that you?"

She turned to see Lydia Reynolds emerging from one of the cars behind  them, accompanied by a bearded man who looked vaguely familiar. Dani  realized that while she'd never met him, she'd seen his picture on  promotional materials for his real-estate agency. They entered the  country club as a group, with Dani making a concerted effort to discuss  something other than real estate. She didn't want Meg to feel left out.

The charity event was taking place in two rooms-a formal dining room  with a dance floor, and a smaller, adjacent room that was decorated with  more festive flair. It had been set up to resemble a beach party,  albeit a very expensive one on a private stretch of white sand, not the  kind of informal bash where people roasted hot dogs over a bonfire.  Unlike the tuxedoed wait staff who would serve dinner after the fashion  show, the waiters circulating in here wore Hawaiian shirts and offered  flutes of champagne as well as the event's signature "Hang Ten"  cocktail. The room was dominated by a large runway with chairs on all  sides.

Meg stared at the catwalk thoughtfully. "Think they'd ever be  interested in doing a lingerie show? I could give someone my card. I'd  only send the tasteful stuff," she added when Dani raised her eyebrows.

There were some club members at a table along a side wall, giving out  more information about the organization they were supporting and trying  to recruit volunteers for future events. Dani quickly discovered which  one was Erik's sister and asked how their mother was doing; she also  made a point of saying that the room looked great.

"Thank you so much," the other woman said. "I hate that Erik couldn't  make it-I worry about him since the divorce, he needs more social  interaction-but I'm glad his tickets aren't going to waste. You have fun  this afternoon, and try a Hang Ten! They're yummy."

And strong. Dani hadn't heard all of the ingredients when a waiter gave  another guest the recipe, but there were at least two types of rum,  plus vodka. She suddenly flashed back to the silly game she and Sean had  played, trying to pair up ideal cocktails with unlikely events.

"What are you grinning about?" Meg asked, sipping her drink. "You look like you're up to something."

"Oh, just remembering something goofy."

"Well, you need more goofy in your life," Meg declared. "You have a  beautiful smile, and you don't use it enough. You're very work, work,  work."

"Says the woman who put in sixty hours this week."

"True. But Marissa and I hosted a bachelorette party at the store and I  wrote an article for our customer newsletter entitled 'If Your Boobs  Could Talk.' I'm not worried my job will make me boring."

"Hey!" It was hard to sound indignant when she was giggling over Meg's  article. Normally Dani wasn't a giggler. She blamed the Hang Ten. "I'm  not boring."