Read Online When Somebody Loves You by Cindy Gerard - Free Book Online Page A

that? she wondered. Had those words actually come out of her mouth?
    The dark light in his eyes told her he was as surprised as she was. “It’s still open, Counselor. You just name the time.”
    How about next year? she thought, her courage slinking away. She licked her suddenly dry lips. “Next Saturday?”
    His smile was slow, pleased, and steady. “Seven o’clock?”
    Lacking the will or the desire to stop herself, she nodded. It was done. An irrevocable, irretrievable step in the wrong direction.
    He returned her nod, corralled George, and, with a wink and a wave, disappeared through the thickest part of the woods.
    She was alone again . . . with her hammering heart, with her better judgment shattered, and, in the wake of what she sensed was a colossal mistake, with a smile she couldn’t control or explain.

    As is often the way of things, January compounded her mistake with another. Monday morning she told Helen about the dinner date.
    Helen’s response was a rebel yell that would have inspired the Yanks to surrender to the Rebs at Vicksburg. When the windows quit rattling, she offered to make January an appointment with her hairdresser, then insisted on taking her shopping for a dress that would, in her words, “tighten his shorts but good.”
    With images of frizzy pink hair fueling her argument, January skirted the issue of Helen’s beautician by promising to make an appointment with her own. The shopping trip, however, was not open to debate.
    “Leonard’s been talking cruise for a couple of weeks now,” Helen said exuberantly. “You can help me shop for some sun clothes, and I’ll help you pick out a dress.”
    So after work that evening, January found herself in a chic boutique, trying on a classy black sheath.
    “Oh, sweetie,” Helen said when January emerged from the dressing room. “Look at you. You’ve got breasts! Nice big ones. Who’d have guessed it?”
    “Helen,” January warned when a salesclerk floated by, arching a censuring brow.
    “Well,” Helen muttered, and toned her comments down to a loud whisper. “All I ever see you in are those stuffy suits. Lordy, lordy,” she continued after a second prideful appraisal. “If you aren’t a sight!”
    “You don’t think it’s too much?” January asked, checking out all the angles in the three-way mirror. She had to admit, the dress was flattering. Though black and basic, the cut and style were feminine and chic, from the off-the-shoulder neckline and long, tight sleeves to the tightly nipped-in waist and the short, slim skirt that ended a few inches above her knees.
    “Oh, it’s too much, all right,” Helen said. “So much, in fact, that I’m going to worry more about Michael than I am about you. The man doesn’t have a prayer.” She giggled. “Not an amen. Not a hallelujah!”
    “In spite of your enthusiasm,” January said drily, “I think I’ll buy it.”
    She also ended up buying a pair of black heels to go with it.
    An hour later it was Helen’s turn to model sun clothes.
    “Well, what do you think?” Helen asked, smiling expectantly as she emerged from the dressing room wearing knee-high hose, heels, and a chartreuse-and-purple floral swimsuit with a plunging neckline and a ruffled skirt.
    It was all January could do to keep her jaw off the floor. “It’s . . . it’s . . .”
    “A stunner, huh?” Helen said brightly.
    Over a bottle of wine several years ago, Helen had confided to January that she lived in horror of becoming a dull, blue-haired little old lady. Loving her for fighting that fear, January smiled broadly. “That’s the word, all right.”

    Six thirty Saturday night found January calm, collected, and in complete control. At least that was the appearance the woman in her dressing table mirror projected.
    With robotlike motions, she dabbed perfume behind each ear. Untying her robe, she applied the same scent between her breasts, then, after a moment’s hesitation, to the insides of