They were still harassing each other when Lydia joined them, pointing out in hushed tones that one of the waiters was extremely hot. "He could be a male model," Lydia sighed. Dani had already surmised that Lydia's bearded "date" for the evening was just a colleague, not an actual date.
"Makes sense," Meg said. "Don't most aspiring models and actors have side gigs waiting tables until they get their big break?"
"I'd like to give him a break," Lydia said. "Or at least my phone number. I suppose that would be inappropriate since he's working."
"Have another Hang Ten," Meg suggested, tongue in cheek. "You'll stop caring about what's appropriate."
Lydia laughed. "If there weren't so many prospective clients and people I already do business with here, I might take that advice. As it is, I'm going to see where I can track down a soda. The circulating waiters only have booze."
"Probably a ploy to make donors more generous," Dani said wryly. When the other woman went off in search of nonalcoholic libations, Dani told Meg, "There goes a woman with a healthy appreciation for the opposite sex. Every time I see her, she's lusting after a different guy."
Then again, last time they'd encountered each other, Lydia had been expressing lust for Sean. Can't fault her taste.
Dani sighed, aggravated to find herself thinking about him for the second time since she'd arrived. It was even worse at home. Why had she put that ceramic fairy on her nightstand, where it served as a constant reminder? Two weeks had passed since her night with Sean, and she still shivered at the memory of his touch.
Since she didn't seem to be getting over him, should she try getting past his lying to her? It was possible he truly regretted his error in judgment and had learned his lesson. Or was she trying too hard to rationalize her own weakness?
"You okay?" Meg asked.
"I miss him," Dani admitted.
Meg was such a good friend that, even though they hadn't been discussing Sean, she had no trouble following Dani's train of thought. "I know he made a mistake, but doesn't everyone? I moved in with Nolan, and that was a mistake. You agreed to marry Tate."
"In hindsight, those were regrettable decisions," Dani agreed. But that was the problem. She was afraid of making more decisions she'd have cause to regret. After only one night with Sean, he was taking up far too much of her concentration and emotional energy. Finding out he'd lied had hurt far more than it should have. If they dated and something else went wrong...
"Ohmigosh." Lydia suddenly reappeared, grabbing Dani's arm. "Did you know he was going to be here? Standing back by the palm tree with all the lights on it. Don't be obvious."
For a nonsensical moment, Dani thought she meant Sean but then realized Lydia didn't even know they'd been discussing him. She turned to glance casually over her shoulder. "Who am I looking for, exactly?"
"Your ex," Lydia said, her voice full of sympathy. "And the new missus."
* * *
IN THE CURTAINED area that served as backstage, Sean listened to the event emcee kick off the show with a few jokes. The elderly husband and wife team who'd founded Sunny Meals got ready to make their entrance. In keeping with the summer theme of their charity, the runway show was a playful look at warm-weather "fashions."
Sean wished desperately that his outfit could have been the husband's red, white and blue salute to the Fourth of July, complete with gaudy novelty sunglasses. Or, hell, even the wife's tennis dress would have been an improvement.
When the woman coordinating the ensembles had first handed him the swimsuit, he'd been appalled. "I told the woman on the phone I was fine with swim trunks. These don't qualify as trunks." The black shorts with their drawstring tie were extremely, well, short. "Was this Tara Blakely's idea?" Maybe participating in an event your ex helped organize was asking for trouble.
The wardrobe coordinator had beamed at him. "Actually, committee members made all decisions together. And this one was unanimous."
He stood backstage trying to psyche himself up by reminding himself that guys on the high school swim team had worn far skimpier suits. And what about Olympic swimmers? This was practically patriotic.
About the time he made peace with going out in front of a bunch of people in the suit, the coordinator returned to complete his humiliation. "I almost forgot these!" She handed him a pair of goggles, which he eagerly put on. Obscuring his face sounded pretty good right now. "Oh, no. You should wear them up on your head," she corrected. "And, for the finishing touch..."
That was when he noticed the bright yellow swim flippers.
"What, no speargun?" he asked sardonically. Charitable urges were all well and good, but why hadn't he just done another building project with Habitat for Humanity?
As he waited his turn, he thought about karma. He'd lied to a beautiful woman who didn't deserve it and now here he was, mostly naked, about to flap onto the runway in giant rubber fins.
Could be worse. After all, now that he and Tara had broken up, he rarely hung out with members of elite country clubs. So, the good news was, even if he looked like a moron, what did he care what the audience thought?
* * *
MEG WAS FUMING as only the best friend of a jilted woman could. "I can't believe he even has the nerve to show his face in the community," she whispered, glaring daggers toward the row where Tate and Ella sat. Luckily, the room's lights had been dimmed to maximize the spotlight on the runway. Dani didn't think her ex had even noticed she was here. "Men who ditch their fiancées for Scandinavian bimbos should be required to relocate."
Dani tried not to laugh out loud-onstage, the emcee was talking about the great cause that had brought them all here today. "We don't really have any evidence that she's a bimbo. And I'm not sure Finland is Scandinavian. Nordic, maybe?"
Music started and a silver-haired couple began making their way down the runway, hamming it up for the crowd. After them came a shapely woman in an Atlanta Braves replica jersey, hat and baseball pants. She carried a bat and had two black lines of glare-reducing grease beneath her eyes just like the pros. Following her was a ridiculously cute mother-daughter duo in matching bathing suits. When people saw the adorable toddler carrying a bucket and shovel, murmurs of "aw" sounded all around the room. They finished their turn on stage, and a man-or possibly a Greek god-appeared at the back of the catwalk. When he first appeared, his face was in shadows, but the spotlight hit every ridge of muscle on his sculpted abs.
Meg, who'd been leaning close to Dani to whisper commentary, suddenly sat bolt upright. "Oh, my." She jabbed Dani in the ribs. Hard. "Wait, is that the architect from your building?"
Dani swallowed, her mouth dry. "Worse. That's Sean." Every cell in her body recognized him.
On Dani's other side, Lydia Reynolds was too dumbstruck for words. She simply stared, mesmerized.
"I can't even be jealous," Meg whispered, "that you got to sleep with him. I'm just impressed you were brave enough. Must be intimidating as hell to get naked with someone who has a body like that."
She didn't recall intimidation during her night with him. Just eagerness, hunger, blinding arousal and bliss. It was easy to tell oneself, after the fact, that no mere mortal could be quite as perfect as she remembered Sean in fantasies. But, physically, he was sublime. Ogling him now, she was shocked she'd manage to resist him for two weeks. Future generations would speak in hushed tones of her willpower. Or my stupidity.
The closer he walked toward them, the more obvious the fins on his feet became, adding a comic touch to his normal predatory grace. Flop flop flop. Dani couldn't help it. A peal of laughter escaped.
For a moment, Sean froze on stage. Had he actually heard her over the other murmured conversations taking place in the dim room? No doubt half the females in here were exchanging admiring comments about the tall, dark and handsome man on the runway. This was a man who could easily have his pick of women. But he wanted you. It was a heady thought.
They hadn't spoken in days, and she hadn't acknowledged the flowers. Had his interest in her dimmed? If she walked up to him after the show, would he be happy to see her? She was so lost in imagined scenarios that she barely registered the rest of the show. Soon, the audience was clapping for the finale-the adult daughter of the country club's president decked out as a mermaid.