“Hey, you tropical babe, welcome home! How are you feeling? Was it fabulous?”
“Candy! It was totally fabulous, and I’m feeling great. You 100
absolutely have to go to Jamaica, you would love it. Next time we’ll drag you along.”
Candy smirked. “Yeah, I can’t think of anything more fun than being in a romantic paradise as the third wheel.”
“Mr. Right didn’t show up while I was gone? What happened with Justin?”
Candy filled her in, a long, rambling cathartic explanation including every detail, the way she and Abigail always communicated. Both had long since learned that leaving any tidbit out would only lead to questions later, so the initial verbal deluge actually saved time in the long run.
By the time she’d finished with the snow-shoveling shut-out from the previous day, Candy already felt better. “And that’s where we are. Done. Finished. Totally over!”
“I gave you advice, you ignored me and look what happened.”
“I what? What did you say? When?”
“Cookies.”
“Oh, come on.” She slumped into the chair in her living room which had replaced Chuck’s favorite and always looked wrong and out of place as a result. “Is that all anyone can tell me?”
“Since when am I just anyone?”
“Marie said the same thing. Aren’t we past the era when women had to prove culinary skills to score romantic points?”
“Candy, dear, you’re forgetting what we’re dealing with here. We might have evolved, but they haven’t, poor things.
Taking him something you made for him is a sweetly personal and totally nonaggressive gesture. If he’s skittish or thinks you rejected him instead of rejecting first-date sex, or whatever else his issues are, then the next move has to come from you, but it has to be completely nonthreatening.”
“Yeah, because I’m so terrifying. And I don’t think the next move has to come from me. He’s made himself very clear. Do not come around again. Do not pass Go. Do not collect—”
“We’re talking about men, here, honey. We have to work to understand them so we can give them what they need, because they have absolutely no clue. Justin might well want you, adore you, be on his way to marrying you, but since he obviously doesn’t know that yet, you have to make sure he figures it out in a way that isn’t going to scar his ego or kick up any fear.”
Candy shook her head, almost feeling sorry for Abigail’s husband, who had clearly never had a chance. At the same time…Abigail could be right. Abby had certainly landed the wallet of her dreams mere months after she set her sights on him. “Cookies, huh?”
“Have I ever steered you wrong?”
“How about the time you told me to send Jack Jenkins an anonymous letter saying Candy Graham was hot for him, and he not only found out it was from me, but posted it on the student message board?”
“Ooh.” Abigail sucked air guiltily through her teeth. “Right.
That wasn’t so great. But we’re older now and wiser, thank God, and this advice is right on. I promise.”
Candy turned to her front window, gazed at Justin’s house, thinking about his incredible eyes and smile, his charm and easy flirtation.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t totally over. Candy would give it one more try.
THAT WAS NOT HOW HE WANTED his latest encounter with Candy to go.
The party had gone well. Most of the guests were gone.
Only Troy and Candy lingered in Justin’s living room, sipping wine, involved in a discussion. A long discussion. Justin had barely had the chance to speak to her— Hello, how are you, glad you could make it, may I introduce my friend Troy? That 102
about summed it up. A few minutes ago, Troy had nodded meaningfully to Justin and given a surreptitious thumbs-up, which hadn’t helped Justin at all. Had Troy succeeded in finding evidence of something fishy at Milwaukeedates.com, or had he succeeded in proving there was nothing to find? The result would impact Justin’s feelings for, and possible relationship with, Candy.
Frustrated and impatient, he strode up to his room to find the flash drive he’d promised to give his book partner before he left. He knew where he’d left it: sticking out of the USB hub behind his laptop. He even knew where its cover was: behind the speaker. Neither were where they were supposed to be, and he was positive he hadn’t moved them. Had someone been in his room during the party? He turned papers over on his desk, searched under the laptop, on the floor, in the wastebasket.