Chasing Rainbows A Novel - By Long, Kathleen Page 0,53

for all.

But there he stood, lowering his six-foot-six frame into the seat across from me, reaching out to shake my hand.

Blaine McMann.

The boss from hell. Or should I say, former boss from hell.

I hugged myself instead of touching his hand, and tried to arch a brow. Based on experience--and the amused look on Blaine’s face--I’d succeeded in doing nothing more than squishing up one side of my face.

“I see you lost your hair along with your mind,” he said.

I sneered. I wasn’t sure I’d ever sneered before, but I sure as hell sneered now.

“Listen.” Much to my chagrin, he kept talking. “We haven’t got much time--” he tapped his watch “--now that our professional relationship is out of the way, what do you say we hit the sheets?”

When I gagged this time, there was nothing fake about it.

I waved frantically, doing my best to snag the attention of the Dating Now chaperone. She was at my side instantly, phony expression of sincerity plastered across her flawless face.

“Did you need something?” she asked.

“I’d like to pass.”

“Pass what?”

“Him.” I jerked my thumb at Blaine’s nose.

“Why that--” she hesitated, blinking as if no one had ever asked the question before “--that would create...havoc.”

“Havoc?” I couldn’t believe my ears. “Look I paid good money for this. All right, I didn’t, but someone else did and if I want to pass, I think I should be allowed to pass.”

My voice had climbed to a minor shriek while the Dating Now woman’s tone dropped to little more than a whisper--a desperate whisper.

“You only have three minutes left.” She leaned close, shot a glance at Blaine, then moved closer still. “If you don’t care for this gentleman, why don’t you just sit here quietly?”

Care for this gentleman? I loathed this gentleman. This gentleman had been the bane of my existence for more years than I cared to remember.

Blaine smirked. “I don’t see why you’re so upset. You sure as hell don’t look like you’ve been getting any.” He sat back against his seat. “You know you want it.”

This time, I didn’t hesitate. My boots and I were up on my chair before I could say not a snowball’s chance in hell. I teetered precariously over my assigned table.

Blaine scrubbed a hand across his face and muttered. “Here we go.”

“Don’t you ever--” I pointed my finger in his face “--talk to me or anyone else like that again.” I found my center of gravity and planted my fists on my hips. “You self-centered, arrogant, conceited piece of shit. I wouldn’t sleep with you if you were the last living slime ball on the face of the earth.”

Ding, ding, ding.

The Dating Now hostess had gone paler than pale. She gently reached for my elbow and tipped her chin toward the floor. “Time’s up.”

As I climbed down, doing my best to ignore Blaine’s self-satisfied smirk, a smattering of applause broke out on the far side of the restaurant. Before I knew it, every woman Blaine had visited, without exception, stood clapping.

His smug expression shifted to one I’d never seen before. If I wasn’t mistaken, Blaine McMann was embarrassed.

Embarrassed.

I hadn’t thought it possible.

The warm satisfaction that burst inside my belly filled me from my head to my toes.

Maybe I’d been wrong about speed dating.

Though the admission didn’t say much for the state of my social life, this had been the best night I’d had in a long, long time.

o0o

On the way home I stopped off at my favorite café, deep in the heart of Genuardi’s. I ordered up a grande chai latte and went to work.

If the Courier Post had published my first letter, maybe they’d publish a second. Who knew? Maybe somewhere out there readers were attacking their paper each morning, breathless with anticipation in the hope of knowing how my life was going.

Regardless, I’d decided the time had come to chase at least one dream--my writing.

Perhaps I’d had a bit too much caffeine, and perhaps the whole Dating Now incident had gone to my head, but damn it, I was going to write the best letter to the editor ever written.

An hour later my prose sat complete, sentences scrawled in my favorite purple ink, a flawless masterpiece extolling the virtues of stepping out of your comfort zone, no matter how small that first step might be.

After all, if Diane hadn’t encouraged me to buy the boots, chop my hair and speed date, I wouldn’t have experienced the glorious moment of victory when I finally put Blaine in his place.

While