“I’m sorry, honey.” Jordan reached over to grasp her hand.
“Me, too.” Sheris offered a bright smile. “But, hey, they can’t all be Bill or David now, can they?”
“Or Logan.” Melanie threw out the comment while perusing the extensive lunch choices.
Sheris dropped her menu on the table. “Now what in the world made you bring up my ex-husband?”
Mel looked embarrassed. “It just slipped out? I must have heard him last night?”
“Has he still got that little radio program? I didn’t realize.” Sheris tried unsuccessfully to sound dismissive and bored.
Jordan pictured the full-size, full-color billboards on I-95 and the B/W Parkway coming into the city and hid her smile. If Sheris wanted to pretend to be the only person in the Baltimore metropolitan area who didn’t listen to In the Mood with McGuire, so be it.
“Logan was just one in a long line of relationship regrets.” With that, Sheris changed the subject. “I’m going to have the Crusted Chicken Romano over Fettuccine. How about you girls?”
“Mmm. Sounds good,” Melanie replied. “But I’m going to go with the Seafood Cobb Salad.”
Jordan’s stomach growled at the thought of fried chicken and carbohydrate-laden pasta or fat-packed avocados, shrimp and blue cheese. She stifled a sigh, knowing she couldn’t afford to let down her guard. “I’ll just have the baked fish and a tossed salad.”
After placing their orders, they spent some time catching up on news and acquaintances. Inevitably, though, the conversation turned intimate. Sheris dabbed a spot of pasta sauce from her mouth.
“In some ways it’s a relief that things ended with Grant, but I sure am going to miss the sex. That guy could go all night.”
“Really?” Melanie pouted a little and searched her salad for any shrimp she’d missed. “With the kids around most of the time, I’m lucky if Bill and I manage more than thirty minutes. What about you and David?”
“Um, actually things have been a little, um…how do I say this?” Jordan leaned forward and dropped her voice to a whisper. “I bought a sex manual.”
“Good for you!” Sheris grinned at her. “Which one? I have a fairly extensive collection myself.”
“I got Fifty Fast Fantasies last week.”
Sheris nodded and speared a chunk of chicken off her plate. “That’s a good one. I especially enjoyed Ride Him, Cowgirl and The Butler Did It.”
Jordan choked on a bite of her baked trout and felt her cheeks flame. How could Sheris be so casual about acts that embarrassed her just reading about them? She looked over to see that Melanie had reacted the same way.
Mel’s eyebrows arched toward her hairline. “You, um—you acted them out? I mean, you actually—”
“Well, of course, honey. There’s no reason to buy a sex book if you’re just going to leave it in the drawer.”
“Shh!” Jordan and Melanie both tried to silence her when two men at a nearby table looked over with undisguised interest.
“Oh, come on, girls. Our college days aren’t that far behind us, are they?”
“I don’t know, Sheris. My college days weren’t nearly as social as yours.” Jordan set down her fork. “I mean, I bought the manual. But I’m not sure I can go through with some of those fantasies.”
“Nonsense. You wouldn’t have even looked at a book like that, let alone bought it, if your sex life was satisfying.”
“Shh!”
“Well, you wouldn’t have. So obviously you’re curious and curiosity is key to great sex.” Sheris pushed her empty plate aside. “You have to be willing to discover things about your partner and let him find things out about you. Like, I found out that Scott was into ropes and James loved to be spanked—”
“Eeww!” Melanie wrinkled her elfin nose. “Too much information!”
“Hey, I’m not saying I always agreed to it. But you have to be willing to give if you want to get what you like in return.”
Jordan considered Sheris’s advice while Mel demanded exact details about costumes and props. What was it she really wanted? Sex, certainly. Affection and attention, of course. But more than anything, she wanted to feel burning desire and urgent need. She wanted to feel like she did two days ago.
Melanie was still pressing. “Well, how did you do it, Sheris? I mean, did you suggest it, or did the guys? And if it was you, how did you bring it up?”
“I don’t think I can.” Jordan shook her head. “What would I say? ‘Hi, honey. I made dinner reservations. And afterward, would you mind wearing this slave boy outfit I bought you?’ There’s no way!”
“That is more my style than yours.” Sheris grinned. “So don’t discuss it. Just arrange the setting for your favorite fantasy and surprise him one night. My point is, Jordan, if you want a more exciting love life, you have to lose the sweetness and discover the sweat.”
Jordan’s mind immediately returned to the faceless firefighter. Now there was a man who’d made her sweat. And moan. And climax within seconds of his touching her. She felt heated blood rushing to her cheeks—and other places—as she remembered how incredible he’d made her feel.
She’d never felt that way with David.
It was getting harder to ignore the crushing unhappiness that pervaded her nights. Ironically, she had discovered that being in a poor relationship was lonelier than being on her own. Being single didn’t feel as incomplete as having a lover she feared didn’t love her at all, one she’d struggled to love in return.
Time was running and only David could help her.
LATER THAT NIGHT, Jordan stood in the bedroom of her Federal Hill row house and stripped off her business clothes. She carefully sorted the dry-clean items from the hand-wash only before pulling on a ratty pair of sweatpants and an even older T-shirt. In the bathroom, she removed the hairpins from the chignon she wore at the office and brushed her hair until it fell loosely to her shoulders. Then she creamed the artfully applied makeup from her face.
Jordan stared at herself in the mirror, carefully studying the parts without looking at the whole. A blemish was coming out on her chin. A quick squeeze and it was gone. Tiny wrinkles were developing under her eyes. She’d have to get some retinol cream. Reaching for the tweezers, she plucked several strays from her brow. Then her eyes narrowed as she focused on her hairline. Was that one gray? The tweezers quickly yanked out the offending strand.
She spent several more minutes checking for flaws before sighing heavily and turning out the bathroom light. Downstairs in the kitchen, she opened the refrigerator and tried to decide if she wanted a lettuce or a spinach salad for dinner. Neither one was really appealing tonight. She glanced across the room to the cabinet above the coffeemaker.
No. She shouldn’t.
Maybe she could mix the red leaf lettuce and baby spinach together, then julienne some raw vegetables over the top. There were some tomatoes in the crisper and—she felt the contents of that cabinet calling to her.
No!
Okay, she’d skip the salad and just make vegetables crudité with some low-fat cottage cheese on the side. She slammed the refrigerator shut. It was no use. She was going to open that cabinet. She was going to reach inside and she was going to blow her diet all to hell. Like a thief sneaking into forbidden territory, Jordan rushed across the room and grabbed the bag of Dove milk chocolates. Holding it up to her face, she inhaled the addictive