“What’s up with Dr. Hunk?” Yolanda asked the moment Jennifer joined her behind the long counter.
“I think he worked late last night,” Jennifer responded, walking past her to the big coffee urn. She checked the levels and found one nearly empty so she measured ground coffee into a fresh paper filter.
“Is that all?” Yolanda joined Jennifer and leaned forward to peer into her face, her dark eyes assessing. “It looked like he was asking you out again.”
“He did,” Jennifer admitted.
“I hope you said yes this time.”
“Of course not. You know I won’t go out with a customer,” Jennifer reminded her. She’d made up the rule on the spur-of-the-moment the first week she’d worked at the diner. To her surprise, the man who’d asked her out seemed to accept it with regret but little argument. She’d used the excuse several times since with the same results and no one had ever tempted her to change her mind—until Chance.
Yolanda rolled her eyes. “That’s such a crock, Jennifer. You could make an exception.” She glanced over her shoulder at the booth where Chance sat and sighed loudly. “Goodness knows, I certainly would for Dr. D.”
Jennifer laughed. “Don’t you think your husband might object?”
“Hmm. Good point.” Yolanda’s dimples formed as she grinned, her eyes flashing mischievously.
“Exactly,” Jennifer said with emphasis. She tossed the used filter with its damp coffee grounds into the trash bin and slipped the new one into the big coffeemaker. “You’d have to say no, too, but for different reasons. The charming Dr. Demetrios will just have to find another Cinderella to take to the ball.”
“To the ball?” Yolanda repeated, intrigued. “Do you mean, literally to a ball?”
“Actually, yes. He asked me to go to the Armstrong Fertility Institute Founder’s Ball with him.”
“What?” Yolanda’s shriek drew the attention of the diners at the long counter behind them. She glanced at them, waved a hand to tell them to return to their bacon and eggs and focused on Jennifer. “Spill, girlfriend,” she hissed. “I want details.”
“That’s all I’ve got,” Jennifer protested. “He asked me to be his date for the Founder’s Ball and I turned him down.”
“I can’t believe you refused a chance to go to that shindig. It’s one of Boston’s biggest parties!”
A third waitress joined them to collect a full coffeepot. Yolanda caught her sleeve. “Shirley, you’re not going to believe this.”
The red-haired woman paused, tucking her order pad into her pocket and eyeing Yolanda with interest. “What?”
“Dr. Demetrios asked Jennifer to go to the Founder’s Ball with him—and she turned him down!”
Shirley’s eyes widened. “Jennifer, you can’t say no! There’s no way Yolanda and I will ever get an invitation so you have to go, then come back and tell us all about it.”
Jenny rolled her eyes. “I can’t go out with Dr. Demetrios, Shirley. If I did, no one would ever again accept my I-don’t-date-customers rule,” Jennifer protested.
“Not if they don’t know—so swear Dr. D to secrecy and make him promise not to tell anyone,” Yolanda said promptly. “He’s been trying to get you to go out with him for months—he’ll swear not to tell anyone you broke your rule.”
“Even if I wanted to go, I couldn’t,” Jennifer continued, trying a different argument. “The affair is black tie. I have nothing to wear—no dress, no shoes, no jewelry. It’s not as if I can go in my best jeans.”
Shirley dismissed the problem with a wave of her hand. “My best friend from high school is half owner of a high-end consignment shop. She can get you whatever you might need and it won’t cost you a thing. She owes me a favor. I’ll ask her to let us take everything home for the weekend and I’ll return them on Monday morning before the shop opens. I’m sure she’ll let us.”
A fourth waitress joined them in time to hear Shirley’s comments and her lively face lit with curiosity. “Who’s getting a designer dress and jewelry?”
“Jennifer—Dr. D asked her to go to the Founder’s Ball with him.”
“No way!” Linda’s eyes widened with surprise and delight. “Yeah, Jennifer! You’re going, of course,” she said with absolute conviction.
“I can’t—you know I never date customers,” Jennifer replied.
“Huh,” Yolanda snorted. “You don’t date. Period. I don’t think you’ve gone out with anyone but the three of us since you started working here.”
“That’s true,” Shirley conceded and nodded with firm agreement. “You’ve got to expand your horizons, Jennifer. Not that we don’t love having you join us for outings after work and weekends, but honey—” she laid a hand on Jennifer’s forearm and leaned closer, fixing her with a solemn gaze “—you seriously need to go out with a man.”
“And get to know him—in the biblical sense,” Linda added.
“I’m not hooking up with a guy for sex,” Jennifer protested.
“Who said it was just for sex?” Yolanda countered. “The doc is the perfect guy for a weekend fling—he’s nice, you’ve seen him nearly every day for the past six months so you can be sure he’s not an ax murderer, he’s interested in you and he has a reputation for never getting involved long-term with women.” She ticked off her arguments one-by-one on the fingers of her right hand. “You’ll have a great time and if you end up spending the weekend having great sex, well…that’s just an added benefit. You’ve been living like a nun and Chance is the perfect man to end that state.”
“I couldn’t possibly spend the weekend with anyone,” Jennifer protested, though she was shocked at how tempted she was by the idea.
She hadn’t dressed up in an evening gown and attended a black-tie party since before her short-lived marriage to Patrick, her daughter’s father. That Harvest Ball at the country club in her small Illinois hometown had been one of many such events, distinguished only because it had been the last dinner dance she’d attended before leaving for college.
A year later, she’d been married, divorced, and was six months pregnant with her little girl.
That was over five years ago and she hadn’t worn a party dress, gone out on a date, nor slept with a man since. No wonder she was tempted, she thought. With an effort, she forced herself to focus on another reason to convince her friends she couldn’t go to the Founder’s Ball with Chance.
“And besides,” she added, “I probably couldn’t find a babysitter for Annie for an evening.”
“That’s absolutely not a problem,” Linda assured her. “My kids would love to have her spend the weekend. Just yesterday they were asking when Annie was coming over again. We’ll pick her up before your date and bring her home late Sunday afternoon.”
Jennifer paused, staring at the trio of faces. Could she do this? More important, should she do this?
“Come on,” Yolanda coaxed. “You know you want to.”
“I shouldn’t…” Jennifer began. She glanced over her shoulder and found Chance watching her, his dark eyes unreadable. The instant shiver of awareness was nothing new—he always elicited this response in her. He made her yearn, made her want.
Seeing his unfailing gentleness with elderly Mrs. Morgenstern when she routinely stopped him in the diner to ask for medical advice had made Jennifer sharply aware of the lack of a man’s strength in her own life. And the charm and dry wit with which he deftly turned aside the inevitable