Have Baby, Need Beau. Rita Herron

“Figures.”

      “What?”

      She hadn’t realized she’d spoken out loud. “I said it figures you’d drink scotch. Probably the expensive stuff.”

      “There’s nothing wrong with having class, Mimi.”

      Mimi indicated her beer. “Are you implying I don’t?”

      “No. Don’t be so sensitive. You’re analyzing everything I say, turning it into something it’s not.”

      Regret pulled at Mimi. She was supposed to cheer him up. After all, he’d been nice to her the day Joey had been arrested. “I’m sorry, Seth. You deserve to drink whatever you want. I know it’s been a bad day.”

      He seemed confused. “Why do you say that?”

      “Well, er…watching Hannah marry someone else had to be hard.”

      The bartender handed him his drink, and he stared soulfully into the dark liquid, as if it held the answers to his problems. “I’m fine.”

      Mimi lifted her mug and took a small sip. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Seth. I saw your face the day Hannah called off your wedding. And today…”

      He met her gaze. “What about today?”

      “Seeing Hannah marry someone else so soon after your breakup, well, you haven’t had time to get over her. After all, you two dated a long time, and she’s so great.”

      He nodded. “Yes, Hannah is a great lady. I want her to be happy, Mimi. I told her that.”

      “You deserve to be happy, too.” Mimi patted his arm sympathetically. “Don’t worry. You’ll find someone else, Seth. Just don’t let Hannah ruin you for another woman.”

      “Is that what you think?”

      “I don’t know. Hannah’s a hard act to follow. I love her to death, but I’ve lived in her shadow all my life.”

      “Ahh.”

      “What does that mean?”

      “Sibling rivalry.”

      “We’re not rivals, so don’t start that shrink stuff again. We’re best friends.”

      Seth sipped his drink. “So you’re not jealous of her?”

      “Of course not. I’m proud of Hannah.”

      “Me, too. Hannah and I are friends.” He sipped his drink. “You looked a little uncomfortable today, too, Mimi. Has Joey ruined you for another guy? Is that the reason you’re against marriage?”

      Mimi shrugged. “Like Grammy said, he was just a passing fancy.”

      Seth chuckled. “Easy come, easy go?”

      “Something like that.” Mimi traced a finger along the rim of her mug. “Although he did ask me to wait for him while he was in prison.”

      Seth’s incredulous look made her laugh. “But you refused because you can’t wait that long?”

      “No, if I really loved someone, I could wait.” She shuddered as Joey’s arrest replayed in her mind. The humiliation. Her father’s face on screen, the police, Joey holding Hannah at gunpoint. “He deceived me. My gosh, Seth, he cheated Dad and threatened Hannah. If anything had happened to them…”

      “Your father and Hannah don’t blame you.” Seth covered her hand with his. His hand looked huge, but it felt warm, almost electric, sending strange sensations skittering up Mimi’s spine. Feelings she didn’t recognize.

      “You do know that, don’t you?” He tipped up her chin with his thumb.

      “Yes, but I feel so stupid. I should have seen through Joey, done something to stop him—”

      “Don’t blame yourself, Mimi. Joey was a con artist. A pro. This wasn’t the first time he’d deceived people.”

      “I still wish I’d caught on to his game.”

      “So what did you say when he asked you to wait for him?”

      “To dream on.”

      Seth ran his knuckles over her cheek, his smile oddly tender. “Good for you. You can do better than him.”

      Mimi hesitated, studying him. “You really think so?”

      Seth released her and turned his gaze back to his drink. Odd how cold she suddenly felt, as if losing that touch was important. Must be the chill from her damp dress.

      “Sure,” Seth said in a throaty voice. “He was a criminal. You’re hardworking and honest and…”

      “And what?”

      “And beautiful.”

      Mimi almost choked on her drink. “You don’t make that sound like a compliment.”

      “Beauty’s great.” Seth angled his head toward her. “As long as you have goals to go along with the looks.”

      “I have goals,” Mimi said. “I told you I want to be an actress.”

      “Right.”

      Mimi’s temper rose. “Okay, so I’m not a brain surgeon or a lawyer and I don’t have a degree in anything, but I do have ambition. And I’m not settling for some two-bit loser like Joey again.” Mimi glanced around the cozy bar. “I realize now that our relationship was just…physical.”

      A muscle ticked in Seth’s jaw as if talking about physical intimacy made him uncomfortable. He obviously didn’t specialize in sex therapy. “So, you know what you want in a guy next time?” he asked.

      Mimi stewed over that question. “Maybe. Sort of.”

      “You don’t sound sure.”

      “I’m sure of the qualities I don’t want.” Suddenly suspicious he might be using one of his psychiatrist tricks to lure her into spilling her secrets, she turned the tables on him. “What about you? What do you want in a relationship?”

      “Someone to complement my lifestyle.” His hand tightened around his drink. Mimi watched his throat muscles work as he finished the drink, tension humming through the air. Boy, he had a nice neck, tanned and muscular.

      She had to forget about his neck. “Let me guess. That would be someone steady, settled, a homemaker or another doctor, someone who’ll fit into your routine?”

      “You make me sound dull.”

      “I didn’t mean it like that.”

      He narrowed his eyes.

      “I meant you’re dependable, steady, stable.”

      “You don’t make those sound like compliments.”

      “No, they’re great qualities. Just predictable.”

      He cleared his throat. “I’m not always predictable.”

      “Oh, yeah.” Mimi let her gaze travel the length of him. “I bet you eat the same thing for breakfast every day. Get up at the exact same time every morning, even on weekends. Never go anywhere without your pocket calendar. Have sex once a week, Saturday night, 11:00 p.m., right after the news. You wear those old-fashioned white briefs, and you wouldn’t be caught dead without an undershirt.”

      “Is that what Hannah told you?”

      “Hannah never talked about your love life or underwear. She was always pretty private.”

      “Thank goodness for that.”

      “I’m right though, aren’t I?”

      “I refuse to talk about my love life with you.” He squared his shoulders, his cheeks slightly red. “And as far as my underwear is concerned, you looked when that hope chest tore my pants.”