Love at Large Part 8

Jennifer Harrington lives on the beautiful New England coast with her husband, two small children, and two even smaller cats. When she isn't reviewing books for Dangerously Curvy Novels or murdering flowers in her sad little garden, she's sitting in front of her computer avoiding both her housework and writing that breakout novel.

LOVE BYTES.

Sue Ann Jaffarian.

THE INTERNET PERSONAL ad began: Middle-aged, menopausal, owns gun.

Clark Baxter read it twice to make sure he had it right. He chuckled and took another swig of his morning coffee before reading further.

Divorced professional BBW seeks single or divorced professional man who is a non-smoker, light drinker, and able to converse beyond grunts and pointing. Personal baggage must fit into overhead compartment to board this flight.

He chuckled again.

"What's so funny?"

Clark looked up to see his brother, Dave, standing in the doorway of the kitchen in boxer shorts and a rumpled t-s.h.i.+rt. It was eleven o'clock on Sat.u.r.day morning and Dave was finally getting out of bed. Dave and his current live-in, Marianne, had recently split up and he was staying with Clark until he got a place of his own.

"This personal ad on Love Bytes," Clark responded. "This woman is either very funny or very bitter, or maybe a bit of both. And from the zip code she listed, she lives in the area."

Dave came around kitchen table to read the laptop screen over Clark's shoulder. "Forget it, bro, she's a fattie."

"A what?"

"See that BBW in her description? That stands for big beautiful woman; a politically correct way of saying she's overweight."

"You sure?"

"Trust me, Clark. This one tips the scales in addition to being old." Dave stabbed at the computer screen with a k.n.o.bby finger. "She says menopausal. That means she's probably in her early fifties at least. More likely late fifties, if she's telling the truth."

Clark rolled his eyes at his brother. Dave was fifty-one; Marianne was thirty-two. Dave had been married and divorced three times and all his wives had been considerably younger. His relations.h.i.+p with Marianne had lasted only two years.

"Since I'm fifty-three," Clark said, "early to late fifties would be just fine. It wouldn't hurt you to try someone in your age bracket for a change."

Dave ignored the dig. "Suit yourself. But as your brother, it's my job to tell you that you can do better, much better."

When Clark didn't respond, Dave shrugged and padded over to the counter to pour himself a cup of coffee. He returned to the kitchen table and sat down opposite Clark.

"What's up with the personals anyway? I thought you were seeing someone. Sherry or something like that."

"Her name was Cheryl," Clark corrected. "We ended it last month."

"Too bad, she was a knock-out."

Clark thought about that a moment. "Yes, she was sweet and very attractive, but that doesn't always mean compatible. We just didn't click, I guess."

Clark re-read the personal ad in front of him one more time and noticed that the woman did not offer a photograph. He closed the ad. Maybe Dave was right about this one, he thought. He was certainly more experienced when it came to women. Clark had been married to the same woman for twenty-four years until her death in a car accident three years before. He and Nancy had met in college in a statistics cla.s.s. Their marriage hadn't been perfect, but it had been good and strong. They'd had two beautiful children, twin boys, who were now away at college in Ohio.

Returning his attention to the computer, Clark shook off thoughts of his dead wife. Last year he had decided that it was time to get back out into the dating world. He was lonely and missed having a female companion. It was Dave who had suggested he join Love Bytes, an Internet dating site. So far, Clark had met three women from the Love Bytes site. Cheryl had been the only one he had dated consistently. He continued scrolling listings for another hour, reading several, and answering a couple of ads that did post photographs.

Before Cynthia Quinn could put her brief case down, Gwen Rogers materialized in her office with two mugs of coffee. She placed one on Cynthia's desk. "So," Gwen started without saying good morning first, "how was your weekend?"

"The usual," Cynthia replied while settling herself behind her desk, "shopping, gardening, worrying about my seventeen-year-old daughter who came home two hours past curfew. You know, the usual."

Gwen laughed. "How is Emma?"

"With any luck, Emma may live to see eighteen." Cynthia smiled. "And thanks for the coffee, by the way."

She picked up the mug and smelled the rich aroma before taking her first slow sip. She could tell Gwen was aching to be asked about her weekend in return. Cynthia was the owner of Quinn Legal Staffing, an employment agency in Los Angeles specializing in temporary and permanent placements for legal personnel. Gwen was her top employment counselor and had been with her for five years. During the time, they had become close.

She smiled. "You're about to bust a b.u.t.ton, Gwen. Is it safe to a.s.sume you had a great weekend?"

"Could be, still too early to tell." Gwen demurely sat on the edge of Cynthia's desk and coyly tossed her long auburn hair back over her shoulder. She was blessed with a stunning figure, a gorgeous almost unlined face, and a generally even disposition. She took her own slow drink of coffee.

Cynthia waited for more information, but none seemed to be coming. "So, are you going to tell me?"

Gwen batted her big brown eyes at her friend and boss. "Remember those ads we posted a few weeks ago on Love Bytes? Well, I got a response this weekend."

Cynthia laughed. "A response? You've been getting lots of responses since we posted them."

"True, but none I wanted to meet...until now."

"Really?" Cynthia asked with great interest. "What makes this one so special?"

"I don't really know, Cyn. Just a feeling I have." Gwen put down her coffee cup, held up a delicate hand with fingers splayed and starting ticking off perfectly polished fingers with her other hand. "He's fifty-three, a widower with two boys, owns his own company, loves reading, and the opera."

Cynthia splayed one of her own hands and noticed she needed a manicure. She also began ticking off points on her fingers. "And you're thirty-eight, divorced, no kids, love rock and roll, and think books are for doorstops. Sounds like a match made in heaven to me."

Gwen laughed. "Okay, bottom line, he's very very very handsome."

"Ah, yes, now this is making sense."

"Clark...that's his name...wants to go out this week."

"That's a very very very good start, don't you think?" Cynthia started going through some of the mail on her desk. She held up a formal cream-colored announcement. "Oh, look, the firm of Wolf and Swayze relocated to that new building on Wils.h.i.+re Boulevard. They've been expanding like crazy these past few years."

Gwen hopped off the desk and stood with her hands on her slim hips. "Cynthia Quinn, you are avoiding the obvious."

"You're right. Growth means lots of new jobs to be filled. We better send them a nice plant."

Cynthia looked up to see a bony finger being wagged her way. "Come on, Cyn, you know the deal. Neither of us goes out on a first date alone. You have to get a date and come with me."

"But I don't have a date and I don't want a date. Just make sure Mr. Wonderful meets you in a very sw.a.n.ky public place and take your cell phone with you just in case."

"Well, you would have a date if you hadn't written that stupid ad. It's attracting all the wrong types of men." Gwen defiantly crossed her arms in front of her chest. "And you did that on purpose. You sabotaged your own chances of finding someone. Don't know why you couldn't just write a nice romantic ad like a normal person."

Cynthia laughed lightly. "Personally, I think middle-aged, menopausal, owns gun sums me up nicely."

"It makes you sound like an old battleaxe, that's what it does."

"I think that about sums me up, too." Cynthia's phone rang and she answered it. After a few words, she put the receiver down and turned her attention back to Gwen. "Hildy says your nine o'clock appointment's ready."

Gwen started to leave, but stopped. She turned to face Cynthia, her expression serious. "I really want to meet Clark and I want you there when I do. Please re-write the ad and let's go on a double date like we agreed."

"Gwen, I told you when you first got this silly idea into your head that I don't want to meet anyone. I'm perfectly happy being a divorced single mother. I like my life just the way it is." She looked at Gwen's determined face and sighed. "Tell you what; I'll go with you when you meet this Clark person. I'll even stay for the entire date, if you like. Tell him he's got a two-fer; that's every man's dream, isn't it? If he's as nice as you think, then the second date you're on your own. Deal?"

A shadow came over Gwen's lovely face and her brows knitted together.

"Okay, okay," Cynthia told her quickly, "I'll go out with you as a third wheel until you tell me to take a hike or until this guy has me b.u.mped off, whichever comes first. Deal?"

Gwen perked up. "Deal."

CLARK AND DAVE Baxter waited in the bar at Houston's in the Century City Mall for Gwen and Cynthia to arrive.

"I don't know why you need me here," Dave told his brother over the happy hour noise.

"I told you, Gwen didn't want to meet me alone, so her friend is coming. I thought it would be nice to make it a foursome. It's not like I expect you to marry her, just be civil and charming for a few hours."

"So what does this friend look like? Did you bother asking?"

"No, I didn't, but Gwen is in her late thirties and very attractive, so I'm sure her friend is about the same."

"Don't bet on it," Dave said, giving his brother a nudge in the direction of the door.

Clark turned and saw two women walk into the bar area and look around. Based on the photo posted on Love Bytes, one was definitely Gwen Rodgers, and he thought her every bit as beautiful as her photo, maybe even more so. By her side was a very attractive full-figured woman with honey colored hair cut in a high-fas.h.i.+oned bob. She looked a bit older than Gwen and carried herself with an air of confidence and success. Both women were beautifully dressed from head to toe in fas.h.i.+onable business attire, and he noted with a smile that the friend's suit was cut to accentuate her full bosom and curvy hips.

As the women approached, Clark couldn't help but notice the striking deep blue of the older woman's eyes. He also couldn't help but notice his brother's surly look. "I know it's a stretch, Dave," he whispered in his brother's ear, "but I think a few hours of grown-up conversation might do you good." Dave gave his brother a vulgar but discrete hand gesture.

"Hi," Clark said cheerfully. "You must be Gwen." He held out his hand to her and they shook politely.

"And you must be Clark," Gwen answered back with a nervous smile. "This is my friend Cynthia Quinn." Cynthia and Clark shook hands and Clark felt himself pulled into the woman's eyes as if diving into a deep lake.

Clark turned to Dave. "And this is my brother Dave. He's staying with me for a few weeks so I asked him to join us." Dave smiled slightly at Gwen but his smile faded when he looked at Cynthia. He made no move to shake either woman's hand.

All through dinner Cynthia wished that Clark had come alone. Where Clark was considerate and charming, his brother was rude and sullen. They were both very distinguished and successful looking and resembled each other a great deal. Cynthia guessed them to be close to six feet tall. The differences were that Dave's body was very toned and his hair was dark with graying at the temples, while Clark's physique was a bit soft and his hair was salt and pepper. Too bad, she thought more than once, that Dave was so unpleasant. It would have been fun to do more together.

"So you're a lawyer?" Cynthia asked Dave when there was a lull in the conversation.

"Yes," he replied curtly and gawked around the dining room, never looking at her.

"My brother is a sole pract.i.tioner. He specializes in real estate law," Clark added to bridge the awkwardness.

Gwen chimed in. "Cyn and I specialize in legal staff placements. You'll have to give us a call if you ever need a temp or a new secretary."

"I doubt that I will," Dave said, looking briefly at Gwen.

Clark smiled at Gwen. "Dave's staff has been with him forever. They never leave or get sick. He wouldn't stand for it."

"Somehow, I believe that," said Cynthia just before taking a sip of her water.

Dave shot her a scowl.

"You'll have to excuse my brother," Clark told them. "He and his lady friend just broke up and he's not himself."

"Both Gwen and I are divorced," Cynthia said to Dave with a sympathetic smile. "We understand how tough that can be."

Dave looked down his nose at Cynthia with glaring disdain. Across the table Gwen sucked in her breath.

"My brother has been married several times, I'm afraid," Clark added, giving his brother a stern look. "Too bad he doesn't treat his wives and girlfriends like he does his secretaries."

"I do," Dave replied with a smirk. "Both require large sums of cash to keep around. The secretaries just don't have to live with me."

Cynthia laughed softly. "Now there's an employment perk I could sell to an applicant."

"CAN YOU BELIEVE it?" Clark asked his brother on the way home in the car. "Cynthia is the woman who called herself middle-aged and menopausal in her ad."

"And don't forget the part about owning a gun," Dave added sarcastically. "That was also cla.s.sy."

Clark shot his brother an annoyed glance. "You certainly did your best to ruin the evening. Any special reason?" Clark made a right-hand turn off of Olympic Boulevard onto Beverly Drive, and soon after onto Sawyer. He and Nancy had lived in the Beverlywood area of Los Angeles, just south of Beverly Hills, for years.

"I prefer picking my own dates, thank you."

"Both of those women are charming, intelligent, and beautiful."

"Well, one of them was."

"I would stack Cynthia Quinn up against any of your silicone enhanced bimbos any day. You know, she started up that agency from almost nothing after her husband abandoned her and her daughter." He received no response. "Too bad you prefer flash over substance."

Dave laughed. "Substantial, now that is an adjective I would use to describe Ms. Quinn."

Clark pulled the car into the driveway and opened the garage door with the automatic opener. When they got into the house, he poured them both a brandy.

"I have another favor, little brother," he said, handing Dave the snifter.

Dave looked at him suspiciously. "Maybe I should pay you rent while I'm here. It'd be less stressful than all these favors."

"Aw come on, admit it, you had fun tonight in spite of yourself."

"I will admit that the filet mignon was perfectly cooked and the wine particularly good."

Kicking off his shoes, Clark settled himself on the sofa and took a sip of brandy. "I have four tickets to the Ahmanson Theatre this Sat.u.r.day evening. I want to take Gwen and I want you and Cynthia to come along. We'll go to dinner after. It'll be my treat."