Bachelorette Blues

Everyone looked to the back of the room where Lynette and Ronald unclasped hands to wave and smile in response to the applause. The couple had become engaged six months after their first meeting. Lynette was the inspiration for Shayna’s eligible bachelors list. If Lynette could find Mr. Right among MBO’s membership, why couldn’t she?

Shayna glanced sideways at Phillip. He was definitely out of the running. How could she get involved with a man who couldn’t stop talking long enough to notice her? Thankfully, there were still two more names on her list. Candidate number two, Frederick Montgomery, wasn’t present that night, but the successful accountant was very active in the organization. Shayna was certain she’d run into him at the next event, which Ruth had just begun to announce.

“I hope to see you all on Monday night for our annual fund-raiser bake sale. Last year we raised over two thousand dollars. Let’s work toward breaking that record this year.”

Phillip leaned over to whisper in her ear. “I contributed significantly to last year’s profit with my grandmother’s award-winning peach cobbler. Ruth asked me to make it again this year,” he said proudly.

Shayna smiled politely, darting looks between her watch and the podium. Bring it home, Ruth. I can’t take much more of this.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, ladies and gentlemen, and I hope to see you all Monday night.”

The minute Ruth stepped back from the microphone, Phillip started droning again. Shayna bit her lip, feeling trapped.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. “Are you ready to leave?”

She faced Max, showing her relief in her eyes. “As a matter of fact, I am.” Turning back to Phillip, she said, “I’m leaving now, but it was…nice talking to you.”

“Sure, sure, Shaunice. If you ever need any business software let me know. I’ll give you a discount.” He winked.

Shayna put her hand on her hip, staring after his retreating form. “Shaunice?”

Max took her elbow and began guiding her toward the door. “Don’t take it personally. He thinks my name is Matt.”

She stopped when they reached the hotel lobby. “Thanks for rescuing me, yet again. I guess I’ll see you Monday night?”

“How do you plan to get home?”

“I can take a cab.”

“Nonsense. I’ll give you a ride. You live in Rockville, right? That’s on my way.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

As they walked down to the parking garage, Shayna couldn’t help admiring Max’s profile. She couldn’t deny that he was a handsome man. His skin was the color of chestnuts and he had sexy chocolate brown eyes shaped like almonds. It really was too bad he wasn’t her type, because he was beginning to look better than the topping of an ice cream sundae.

But they couldn’t possibly have anything in common. The man made a living playing video games, for goodness’ sake. She needed someone who could share her appreciation for time and order. Max never showed up for a meeting on time—once he was a day late for a Saturday brunch meeting she’d hosted. She’d bet he didn’t even own a calendar. The two of them were such opposites, they’d probably drive each other crazy.

But he was sweet…She had to blink away the image of Max sitting on top of a mound of vanilla ice cream, wearing nothing but hot fudge. She had a weakness for sweets, which is why she only indulged on rare occasion. If she wasn’t careful, she’d develop a weakness for Max, and she couldn’t indulge in him at all.

He stopped in front of a dark green Pathfinder and her eyes widened. No, it couldn’t be. She looked down at the license plate. “This is your car.” She turned to him, and when she saw the guilt etched on his forehead, she knew for sure.

He held up his hands as if to ward her off. “Look, I’m sorry, Shayna. I was trying to make a yellow light. I couldn’t help—”

“It was you! I can’t believe you were the jerk who splattered my dress with mud. No wonder you’ve been so eager to help me out tonight.”

“Now, Shayna, I had no idea that was you until I saw your rain slicker in the bathroom. I came looking for you because I was concerned.” He unlocked the passenger door and held it open for her.

Shayna stood outside debating whether or not to get into the truck with him. The night had been such a disaster. It annoyed her that he had a part in it—even if by accident. She’d actually been reconsidering his dating potential. Clearly the chaos of the evening was getting to her.

In the morning she’d wake up in her normal orderly world and everything would make sense again.

Shaking her head, Shayna climbed into the truck. The sooner she got home and got into bed, the sooner this nightmare would be over.

Max took the long route home, hoping to coax Shayna out of her funk before he had to drop her off. He’d been making progress until she saw his Pathfinder. When he offered her a ride, it had never occurred to him that she might recognize his truck. He’d only been thinking of the wistful look he’d caught her sending him from across the room.

When he’d approached her, her honey-colored eyes had gone soft and fluttery. He’d waited six months for Shayna to look at him like that. Now that she had, he wasn’t going to blow it over his poor driving manners.

“Are you still awake over there?” he asked. She’d leaned her head against the headrest and her eyes were closed. “I need directions through your complex.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

She’d given that same response to all his attempts at conversation. He was fighting a losing battle, but he wasn’t about to give up. He had about a minute and a half to turn the evening around. By the time he drove up to her town house, he had an idea.

“I’ll walk you to your door,” he said, starting to turn off the ignition.

She held up her hand. “That isn’t necessary. Here.” She handed him three crisp twenty-dollar bills.

“What’s this?”

“The money I owe you for the shoes.”

He tried to hand it back. “Don’t worry about it. Besides, I need to ask you for a favor.”

“Take the money.”

The look in her eyes said she meant business, so he tucked the bills into his shirt pocket.

“Now what can I do for you?” she asked, folding her hands in her lap.

The old Shayna was back—all about schedules and routines. The vulnerable young woman he’d met tonight was well hidden behind a professional veneer.

“Ruth Warner twisted my arm about this bake sale thing, and I ended up promising to bring a chocolate mousse cake.”

She raised her brows. “I’m impressed. That’s a challenging recipe.”

“I know.”

“Don’t feel bad. Ruth can be persuasive.”

“Well, there’s only one problem—I can’t cook worth a damn.”

“Why didn’t you tell her that?”

“I told her I might be able to manage a few of those slice-and-bake chocolate-chip cookies, but in two minutes she had me convinced I was underestimating my abilities. A few choice words about public service and a mention in the Gazette, and I went from frozen cookie dough to homemade chocolate mousse cake.”

Shayna sighed, nodding in sympathy. “I understand. So you want help breaking the news to Ruth, is that it?”

“Actually, I was hoping you’d save my…uh, britches and help me figure out how to cook a cake.”

Shayna winced. “You don’t ‘cook’ a cake. You bake it. That’s why it’s called a bake sale.”

“So will you take pity on me?”

She looked up reluctantly, and Max was afraid she would turn him down. “I realize this is short notice. You probably have to bake something yourself.”

“Actually, I made my strawberry shortcake yesterday.” She gave him a long look, before a small smile bloomed on her lips. “I suppose I can help you out.”

“Great.” They made arrangements for Shayna to come over the next afternoon, and Max wrote the directions to his house on the back of the bake sale flyer. “I appreciate you helping me out like this.”

Her lips curved sweetly. “You were a good friend to me tonight. Helping you with this cake is the least I can do.” Her sweet smile turned wicked as she reached for the door handle. “Even if tonight’s disaster was partially your fault.”

Max turned to look at her, worried she was still upset. She looked over her shoulder, and he saw her eyes dancing with humor.

“Night, Max.”

“Night, Shayna.” As he watched her walk to her door, Max smiled, satisfied that the evening was ending on a positive note.

Just as Shayna’s foot hit her front step, she went down.

Max was out of the truck and halfway up the walk before she got to her feet. “Shayna! Are you all right?”

“Yes, yes,” she said, clutching one of her new shoes to her chest. She brushed away his helpful hands. “I’m fine, really. Thank you.” She waved him off as she scrambled on one foot to the door.

After dropping her keys a few times, she finally managed to hobble into the house. Just before the door closed behind her, he heard her swear.

“Damn! That’s the second pair of shoes I’ve ruined tonight.”

Chuckling, Max walked back to his truck. He never would have guessed Shayna was such a klutz.

The earsplitting shrill of her telephone jolted Shayna into consciousness. She reached across her clock radio for the phone, but her fingers only grazed the receiver as she struggled to make sense of the numbers on the digital display—1:38. In the afternoon! She nearly fell out of bed.

As she pulled herself into an upright position, the phone continued to shriek. She grabbed the receiver. “Hello!”

“Shayna? It’s Max. Is everything okay?”

“Yes, of course.” Never mind that the day was half over and she hadn’t gone to aerobics, started her laundry or reviewed the week’s client files.

“Good. Then we’re still on for this afternoon?”

This afternoon? The cake! “Yes, yes definitely.”

“Didn’t we say one o’clock?”

Her clock now read forty minutes past the hour. “Really? I thought we said two o’clock.” Her pride wouldn’t allow her to admit that, for the first time in ten years, she’d missed an appointment.

“Oh, okay. I should have known. You know how I am about these things. So I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”

“I was just on my way out the door.”

“Good. See you soon.”

Twenty minutes! Shayna stared at her closet in panic. Since she hadn’t done her laundry that morning, most of her jeans and casual clothes were still in the hamper. She studied the array of skirts and suits. It was either a suit or…

Her eyes strayed to the workout clothes she’d laid out for the aerobics class she’d missed. She didn’t have time to be fashion conscious, and if she showed up in a dress, Max might think she was trying to impress him.

Running for the shower, Shayna washed and dressed in record time. She pulled her hair into a ponytail as she raced down the stairs. After grabbing a dessert cookbook from the pantry, she lifted her keys from the hook.

Shayna smiled down at her watch—1:59. Not bad. She’d be a little late, but Max only lived a few minutes away. Once outside, she scanned the lot for her white Toyota.

That was strange. She usually parked it…

Shayna slammed her palm into her forehead. Her car was still at the service station.

Max looked up from the video game he was working on to check the time. Two-thirty. His brows rose. He’d expected to hear her car pull up right on the dot. But then again, Shayna hadn’t been her usual self lately.

Then he heard tires screeching in front of the house. He walked over to the window in time to see a very rumpled Shayna stumble out of a Toyota Camry. By the time he’d climbed the basement stairs and pulled open the front door, she was raising her hand to knock.

She hurried inside then spun on her heel to face him. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I forgot my car was at the service station, and my neighbor Kitty had to—”

He held up his hand to stop her. “It’s okay. By my standards, this is right…on time.” He couldn’t keep his eyes from straying to her hair. Looking away, he tried to repress the grin he felt coming to his lips, but it was already too late.

Following his gaze, Shayna reached up to pat her head. Her ponytail slumped to one side like a fallen tree, and spiky strands were sprouting out all around it. “Oh my goodness. Where’s your bathroom?”

He pointed to the top of the stairs, chuckling as she took them two at a time.

As he waited for her to return, Max realized this was yet another side of Shayna he hadn’t seen before. Rumpled and mussed, dressed in a faded red sweatshirt, stretch pants and running shoes, she looked comfortable and…cute.

Max grinned. Like she’d just rolled out of bed.

Maybe he’d misjudged Shayna and her rigidity. Sure she was always talking about organization at the meetings, but maybe she was more relaxed in her personal life. Perhaps they had more in common than he’d thought.

She came downstairs, looking more like the Shayna he was used to. She’d straightened her ponytail and secured it with one of those bunchies, crunchies or whatever women wore in their hair these days.

He smiled at her. “You didn’t have to fix it on my account.”

She gave him a sheepish grin that made him want to hug her. “You seem to be catching all my bad hair days.”

He reached out to tug on her ponytail. “You always look great to me.” As he pulled his hand back, his fingers grazed her neck, and her eyes widened before she dropped her gaze to the floor.

So she felt it, too. Good, Max thought. Now all he had to do was get her to admit it.

Shayna stepped away, nodding as she glanced around. “You have a nice house.” Her tone sounded almost surprised.

“Thanks,” he said, feeling an uneasy twinge as he realized she probably was.

He knew she didn’t have much regard for the fact that he made a living playing video games. She’d probably expected to find him living in a cluttered little shack with plastic furniture and cardboard shelves. He made a good living, and he couldn’t resist showing off a little. “Let me show you around.”

“Sure,” she said, following him upstairs.

By the time they’d made it down to Max’s office in the basement, Shayna had given him tips on folding towels, eliminating dust bunnies, and how he could save himself fifteen extra minutes in the morning by switching his socks from the top to the bottom drawer.

“So this is it.” Shayna turned around, taking in his office. “This is a nice setup.”

Max waited, knowing what was about to follow.

“But you know…”

He grinned. He’d recently learned that all of Shayna’s helpful hints began that way.

“If you move your desk over to the window, you could take advantage of the natural sunlight in the morning.”

Okay, so she wasn’t as laid-back as he’d hoped, and they were as’ opposite as night and day. That’s what Max liked about her.

He knew exactly where she was coming from. He used to be a slave to deadlines and schedules, and he saw so much of his old self in Shayna. Part of him had to admire her devotion to a life-style he hadn’t been able to maintain. Another part of him wondered if she would burn herself out the way he had. He knew just what kind of discipline it took to keep up such a rigid pace. He also knew that it eventually took its toll.

Max liked having the freedom to dive off in a new direction the minute an idea surfaced. He’d given up trying to conquer the waves. Now he was content to go with the flow, letting life carry him where it pleased. Would Shayna learn to do the same, or would the currents eventually pull her under?

“Explain to me again how a grown man makes a living playing video games.” Shayna was examining the shelves that contained his extensive collection of games and entertainment systems.

“Have you ever played a video game?”

Shayna shrugged. “I played a couple games with my niece at Christmas, but I never really got the hang of it.”

“Well, it can be addicting. People—not just kids—are willing to pay a lot of money to someone who can get them through the rough spots. I produce a newsletter that provides hot tips for the latest games, and I have a small staff that mans a video game hotline.”

Shayna studied the fifty-inch television in the middle of his office. “Where do you get these tips from?”

He grinned. “From playing the games.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand. Isn’t that what everybody does? How do you discover these tips no one else can?”

He grinned mischievously. “It’s what I do.”

She shot him an exasperated look.

“Actually, I have an advantage. I used to design video game programs myself. I know what to look for.”

“You used to design video games? You actually wrote the programs?”

He nodded, preparing for her next logical question.

“Then why—”

“Why did I give up designing games to play with them?”

“Yes. Obviously your business is doing well, but programming video games could make you a millionaire. Why would you trade that in?”

“Because of the typical politics that come with big business. To make a long story short, it wasn’t fun anymore. The challenge was gone. I enjoy solving the puzzle, finding the quirks and traps in someone else’s games. I still knock off a game of my own every now and then, but I’m a free agent, my own boss.”

Her brow was furrowed, as if she were still working it out in her head.

“It’s just like you and life management consulting. You took something you had a natural talent for, something you enjoy, and you turned it into a business. It’s the same thing. I wanted to be in control, make my own schedule. And most of all, play video games all day.”

She raised her eyes and he saw a respect that he’d never seen in those honey-gold depths before. “I do understand. It takes a lot of courage to give up security and take this kind of chance.”

He felt a blush creep up his jaw at her unexpected understanding. “Aw, shucks, ma’am.” The room became silent. “Why don’t we get started with that cake?”

“Right.” Shayna sprang into action, heading for the stairs. “Let’s see what you have.”

In the kitchen, Shayna pulled open the refrigerator, then turned to smirk at him over her shoulder. “This is the typical bachelor’s setup. Baking soda, a jar of mustard and beer?”

He shrugged. That’s exactly the reaction he’d been going for when he’d emptied the refrigerator last night. He figured she’d judge his culinary skills from the ingredients in his kitchen, and he wasn’t going to take any chances on her guessing the truth.

Something told him that Shayna wouldn’t be so sympathetic to his situation if she realized he came from a long line of gourmet chefs.

3

Shayna closed Max’s refrigerator, shaking her head. This was going to be more of a challenge than she’d realized.

“Okay, Max, we’ll have to go to the store. You don’t even have the basics. Let me see your recipe so we can figure out exactly what we need.”

His brows rose innocently. “Recipe?”

“Yes. Don’t you have a…You don’t, do you?”

He showed her his straight white teeth, as if flashing that sexy smile would make up for everything. “Well, no.”

She grinned. Somehow she just couldn’t argue with that smile. “Lucky for you, I grabbed one of my cookbooks on the way out. It’s in the car.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “You think of everything. I appreciate you helping me out like this.”

“No problem.” She thought of everything? Yeah, right. She used to think of everything, but today was a different story. She wasn’t even sure if the cookbook she’d brought had a chocolate mousse cake recipe. There hadn’t been time to check. “Let me go get it. I’ll be right back.”

“Wait. I’ll grab my keys and we can leave for the store.”

She looked at him in surprise. “But we haven’t made a list yet.”

Max shrugged. “Why make a list when we already have the cookbook?”

“You want to lug a cookbook around the grocery store with us?”

“We can manage.”

Shayna shook her head in confusion. “Max, it only takes five minutes to write out a list.”

“It only takes five minutes to drive to the grocery store.” He winked at her, leading her into the hallway. “See, I just showed you how to save yourself five extra minutes.”

Shayna rolled her eyes, realizing that she’d been beaten at her own game. They retrieved the cookbook from her car, then got into Max’s Pathfinder.

While she flipped through the cookbook, Max turned on the radio. She was just about to ask him whether he preferred Ultimate Chocolate Mousse Cake or the Chocolate Mocha Mousse Cake, when the chorus to an old Smokey Robinson song came up.

Max sang loud, off-key and with feeling.

Shayna stared at him. He gave her a sympathetic look, but continued to sing with all his heart. When the chorus came up again, he tapped her knee, inviting her to join in. She looked at him in horror.

Max winked, singing even louder.

He hit the high note flat, but it didn’t matter. Steering, with one arm, through the light Sunday traffic, he leaned back, fully enjoying the music.

At the end of the song, he turned down the radio and sighed. “Damn, I wish I could sing.”

A giggle slipped past Shayna’s lips. “You’re not the only one.” They looked at each other and set off in a fit of laughter.

He began to sing along with the next song, and Shayna had to smile. Despite a strong baritone voice, Max couldn’t hit a note with a sledgehammer. But he didn’t let that stop him…and that was actually pretty endearing.

Most men she knew would never allow her to see them at such a disadvantage, and they certainly wouldn’t be able to laugh at themselves about it. They always had to maintain a veneer of control—the way she did.

The unwanted picture of Phillip Browning, Jr. singing James Brown’s “I Feel Good” popped into Shayna’s mind, and she almost laughed out loud. Only, in this rendition, he would probably change the word feel to look, then take credit for writing an original song.

“We’re here.” Max shifted the truck into park, and as they walked toward the grocery store, he gestured at the slip of paper in her hand. “What’s that?”

She felt her cheeks heat. “It’s a list. I made it in the car.”

He chuckled.

“It won’t be as effective because I don’t know how the aisles are laid out in this store. You can save more time if you make your list according to the aisles.”

Still chuckling at her words, Max picked out a shopping cart. Shayna couldn’t help feeling as though he were laughing at her.

She followed him through the automatic doors. “I know you don’t have much reverence for schedules, but they can really make a difference in your life.”

Pushing the cart toward the first aisle, Max smiled at her politely. “I believe you. What’s the first item on the list?”

“You know…” Shayna said, frowning thoughtfully. “You should let me work up a plan for you. Something simple. Consider it a professional courtesy.”

“Uh, Shayna—”

Determined to make him take her seriously, she pressed on. “Really, Max, just think—”

His gaze was fixed beyond her. “Shayna, watch out!”

She turned in time to see a shopping cart careening toward her. Inside was a toddler clapping his hands and shouting, “Whee!” An older boy chased after him.

Trapped between a centerpiece display of eggplant and the orange stand, Shayna had only one choice. She pressed herself against the rows of oranges until she was practically sitting on them. The boys whooshed by.

Her relief was short-lived.

One.

By one.

Oranges.

Began dropping.

To the floor.

Shayna spread her arms, trying to block the falling fruit, but her weight only added to their momentum. Oranges shot out in every direction, rolling down the aisle and under displays.