Flirting With Temptation (3 page)

“So
that’s
how you started a wheelchair fight.” Clarise smothered her laughter, but it still caused a few glances from the surrounding tables, primarily due to the band’s break between songs.

“Oh, child, I could’ve told you Joslyn’s married. I swear, that woman needs to stop that flirting. Honestly, still trying to make Roy jealous, after all these years. She’s lucky he didn’t have a heart attack.”

“I was lucky Lambert didn’t have one, the way Roy came after him. But he didn’t, just a few cuts and bruises. And I, naturally, got that pink slip with my paycheck. They said I should pay attention to details, particularly wedding rings, but I haven’t grown accustomed to checking left hands of the eighty-plus crowd.”

“Well, sis, I’ve gotta hand it to you. No one loses a job the way you do.” Clarise, still giggling, stood from the table. “I’m going to find my husband and sneak in a dance while the twins are occupied with Olivia.” She started to walk away, then turned back toward the table. “Babette, don’t you think you should go spend a little time with your date?”

Babette and Granny Gert followed Clarise’s line of sight until they spotted Robbie and Jesilyn talking on the other side of the room.

“No, I’d rather him spend time with Jesilyn. Maybe
they’ll
even make it to a third date.”

Clarise sat back down. “You know, I’m sure the twins are going to be looking at that tree for a while. Ethan and I will have that dance later.”

“Tell you what, I’ll go out to the lobby and check out the big tree too. That way I can help Olivia entertain them a little longer.” Granny stood hurriedly. “I’m sure we’ll keep them occupied long enough for you two to have a sisterly chat, and probably long enough for you to have a dance or two.” She winked at Clarise, then turned and left.

“She thinks we’re going to talk about sex,” Clarise said.

Babette nodded. “I figured that much, but she should’ve stuck around, since I haven’t got anything to talk about anyway.” She reached for Granny’s mostly untouched piece of cake. “You think she’ll mind if I finish this?”

“You know Granny; she’ll go get herself another piece if she wants one.” Clarise grinned. “And she was probably willing to let the cake go to let us talk about how long it’s been since you’ve had a third date.”

Clarise—and evidently Granny Gert—knew Babette’s typical rules for dating. Regardless of the fact that she never denied her enjoyment of great sex, she also never had sex with a guy before the third date. Well, except for Jeff, and that baffled her. Lots of things about Jeff baffled her, if she wanted to get right down to it. Which she didn’t. Not now, anyway.

“Granny’s right, that hottie you brought is mighty pleasing on the eyes. You sure he isn’t third-date material?”

“Not for me, but I definitely see sparks between him and Jesilyn.”

“I don’t know. They’re talking and all, but lots of people talk and dance at weddings. And I thought I heard you tell him earlier that you didn’t feel like dancing earlier, and that he should dance with Jesilyn, since she’s here solo. He could just be waiting for you to decide to dance.”

Babette scooted her chair closer to her sister. “Come here. I’ll show you.” She indicated Jesilyn and Robbie, now sitting at a table across the reception hall with their glasses of punch in hand. “Okay. See how they’re sitting?” Babette smiled, her point proven.

Or so she thought.

“They’re sitting by each other,” Clarise said, unconvinced. “I’m not sure that qualifies as anything more than the fact that the reception hall is crowded, and they need a place to sit.”

“You honestly don’t see it?”

“See what?”

Babette sighed. “Okay, for starters, in the past two minutes, they glanced at each other at least twice, with Jesilyn looking down and away afterward, because she’s wanting him to extend the gaze.”

Clarise’s brows dipped down, and her mouth quirked to the side. “They glanced at each other because they’re being polite, and I don’t get how her looking down and away is telling him she’s interested in him. Seems like that’d mean she wasn’t.”

“If she wasn’t, she’d just look away and keep her eyes level.”

“You seriously believe that?” Clarise shook her head. “Sorry sis, but I can’t buy into this one.”

“The eye glance isn’t all I’ve noticed,” Babette said, surprised by how much fun she was having showing Clarise how telling body language could be.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What else do you see?”

“One, they’re both sitting open, relaxed in each other’s company and receptive to the other’s ideas.”

“Open?”

Babette turned toward Clarise and draped one arm over the back of the chair, then she leaned slightly forward and raised her brows as though waiting to hear whatever Clarise said. “This is open posture.” She then pushed her back against the chair, folded her arms against her chest and looked away. “This is closed.”

Clarise looked at Robbie and Jesilyn. “Okay, I agree. They’re open. Anything else?”

“Look at the way they’re sitting, turned toward each other and almost mirroring their positions, one leg crossed over the other.”

Clarise nodded.

“That says they’re in the same place emotionally. And now look; Jesilyn is touching her cheek while she talks. That means she’d like him to touch her there—not necessarily now, but sometime.”

Clarise tilted her head as she studied the pair. “So now, she’s rubbing a finger over her lower lip . . .”

“Ooh, they’re definitely getting along. She’s thinking about being kissed.”

Maybe, if Babette nudged things along, Robbie might even give Jesilyn a ride home from the reception. Then Babette wouldn’t have to worry about trying to explain why she didn’t want to go out with him again.

“He might not be the third-date guy for me, but their body language says maybe he is for Jesilyn.”

“Not trying to be too nosey, but you haven’t gotten to the third date with anyone since Jeff, have you?” Clarise may not be able to read other people’s body language, but she had an uncanny knack for reading Babette; now, unfortunately, was no exception.

Babette stabbed her cake with her fork, then popped the big chunk of cake and icing in her mouth, chewed and swallowed. She really needed more sugar for this conversation. “You know, now that you mention it, I
haven’t
had a third date with anyone since Jeff.” Might as well lay it all out there for her sister to dissect, since she was bound and determined to do it anyway.

“I’m surprised you ended things with him, if he still has this kind of effect on you. It’s been a year and a half.” Clarise leaned forward, obviously studying Babette’s reaction to her words.

Babette focused on her cake, took another bite.

“I know you said you didn’t want to talk about what happened, but have you seen him at all since then? Or at least talked to him?”

“No, and just so you know, I’m not sure I was the one that ended it.”

“I thought you told me that you were talking on the phone, the two of you were fighting, and you hung up on him. That’s all you said about it, and of course, he never said anything at all, so I have to wonder—what were you arguing over?”

“I’d tell you, if I could remember. I honestly thought we were having one of our typical fightfests, and that we’d have fun making up. I know that we were talking, then I told him I was going to hang up, and then he said if I did, he wouldn’t call me back.”

“But you thought he would.”

“Sure, eventually.” Babette did remember a bit of the conversation, and oddly enough, she recalled that they were talking about Clarise and Ethan and the kids. That’s why Jeff’s weird attitude really threw her off. She didn’t think it was all that big of an argument, but apparently it had been, at least on his end, and by the time she realized that, he wasn’t calling.

And Babette—being Babette—didn’t call him either. Two stubborn souls does not a good relationship make. However, they did have good sex. Great sex. Superb sex. But besides missing their notable tangos beneath the sheets, she couldn’t deny that she also missed sparring with him, chatting with him, and laughing with him, for that matter.

“Neither of you were seeing anyone else, right?”

“Well, we never said we were only dating each other. It wasn’t that kind of relationship.”

Clarise cocked a brow.

“Okay, I wasn’t seeing anyone else, but I sure wasn’t going to tell him that.”

Babette’s tiny beaded purse started quivering on the table, and she fished out her vibrating phone, then eyed the caller ID. “It’s Mom,” she said, smiling, and a bit thankful that her mother had literally saved her by the bell. Or rather, the vibration.

Her mother, father, and his sister Madge all lived in a retirement community in Fort Lauderdale. They’d sent Babette a birthday card with a check inside. No matter how much she needed the money, she wouldn’t cash the check, but it was the thought that counted.

“Happy birthday, dear,” her mother said as soon as Babette answered. “How’s your day?”

“Everything’s great.” It wasn’t completely a lie. The cake was good, and her mother had just saved her from having to delve into her feelings for Jeff with Clarise. Not bad. “Daddy and Aunt Madge there?” Babette asked, assuming that they were probably, as usual, calling her via the speakerphone.

“Yes, we’re here. Happy birthday, honey,” her father said, and Babette grinned.

“Happy Birthday,” Madge echoed. “So, you found a guy yet? Or maybe a job?”

Babette rolled her eyes, and Clarise, leaning close enough to the phone to hear Madge’s yell, stifled a giggle. Babette was used to her aunt’s teasing, and typically added fuel to the flame by announcing whatever her latest job venture, date, or degree choice happened to be, but she wasn’t in the mood to mess with Aunt Madge today. So she simply said, “Thanks.”

“Are you having a good birthday?” Babette mentally translated her mother’s question—
have you met a guy yet, and is he there with you?
Janie Robinson was many things, but subtle wasn’t one.

“I’m having a terrific birthday. Matter of fact, I’m eating cake, right now.” No, it wasn’t birthday cake, and it wasn’t even a cake made for her, but it was cake. And good cake too. She fingered another dab of icing.

“How old are you, Babette?” This came from Aunt Madge.

“Thirty-four.” No use lying.

“Wow, next year, you’re officially midlife, right?”

“I don’t believe midlife is thirty-five now, Madge,” Babette’s mother corrected.

“Well, if it isn’t, it’s mighty darn close,” Madge snapped.

Clarise’s hand moved to her mouth while she only marginally controlled her laughter.

Babette glared at her, and Clarise merely shrugged.

“Anyway, how’s the job situation going? You still at the retirement center?” her father asked.

Babette shook her head at Clarise. No way did she want to divulge that she’d lost job number twenty-three. She’d tell her parents later, when it wasn’t her birthday and when Aunt Madge wasn’t listening.

“I just finished my third week,” she said, holding back that she’d also just finished her last day.

“That’s some kind of record, isn’t it?” her aunt asked, then she grunted, and Babette had a sneaky suspicion that she’d been elbowed.

“Not yet. My current record is eight weeks.” Babette silently dared Aunt Madge to respond. Smartly, and probably with the threat of another elbow to the belly, she remained silent.

“Well, have you met anybody interesting?” her mother asked, as Babette had expected that she would.

“No, Mom, I haven’t.”

“Well, that’s okay, dear,” her mother said consolingly. “You still have plenty of time.”

Plenty of time. She could almost hear her biological clock ticking.
Tick, tick, clunk
. That clock was breaking, and she wasn’t all that certain how much she cared.

“Mom, Dad, Aunt Madge, I’ve got to let you go. I’m actually at a wedding reception, and the groom is getting ready to make a toast.” Richard was, in fact, moving to the stage with a flute of champagne in hand. “Love you.” She waited for them to say bye, then gladly disconnected from the uncomfortable conversation.

“Oh, good, we made it back just in time for the toast,” Granny Gert said, as she and the twins shuffled toward the table. “Olivia went to find Preston.”

Ethan also made his way over, brushing a kiss across Clarise’s cheek before scooping up Lindy in his arms.

“Let’s see what Mr. Richard has to say,” he said to Lindy, while Little Ethan squirmed his way into Clarise’s lap to get closer to the last bit of cake on her plate.

Richard cleared his throat into the microphone, then eloquently thanked everyone for attending the most important event of his life. He smiled at Genie, toasted her, and then proclaimed his endless love for his new bride. It was a beautiful speech, and the entire crowd cheered and applauded when it ended. But then, Richard cleared his throat again, raised his voice a bit more than before, and turned his attention toward another woman in the room.

Babette.

“And I need to add a special thank you to one guest in particular, because without her help, Genie and I would still be denying our love. Please join me in toasting Babette Robinson, my personal love doctor.” The crowd turned toward Babette. Every glass lifted and then toasted her accomplishment.

Granny Gert sipped her champagne and then poked Babette’s arm. “He’s right, you know.”

“Right?” Babette questioned.

“He called you a love doctor, said that he wouldn’t have worked things out with Genie without you. A love doctor. Don’t know why no one has thought of that before. I mean, it isn’t something you’d traditionally think of, when you’re thinking about employment, but given your gift for reading people, I think you could do it. And you are between jobs now,” she added with a wink.

Truth was, Babette had spent most of her adult life between jobs. But she was still itching to know what Granny was talking about. A love doctor?

“Oh, I see what you’re saying, Granny,” Clarise said. “People pay for matchmaking services, don’t they? Just look at eHarmony and Match.com.” Then her mouth quirked to the side. “But Babette didn’t actually match-make Richard and Genie.”