Afternoon Delight. Mia ZacharyЧитать онлайн книгу.
want to use a dating service run by a guy who was frequently single, a guy who didn’t believe in the idea of true love he so convincingly sold?
It all came down to science, namely mathematics and chemistry. If you presented people with a potential mate who mirrored the traits they wanted to see in themselves, the probability was high that these two people would experience infatuation. After infatuation, respect and commitment would hopefully follow.
Not that he hadn’t experienced a number of failures. His matchmaking skills hadn’t worked at all on his parents.
Chris had been eleven when his father had dumped the family, walking out on him, his mother and sisters. He’d never seen it coming. His parents had never fought, always discussing everything quietly and rationally, and his father swore there wasn’t another woman. Just some half-assed need to figure out what he wanted from life.
Chris had listened to the calmly delivered speech about things sometimes not working out the way you hope, nodding his head while his whole world imploded. He’d felt like his chest was on fire from the pressure of holding back sobs of anguish. Don’t go, Daddy. Don’t leave me. As his father turned away, the pressure bubble inside him had popped and the tears flowed freely.
It was the last time Chris ever cried.
He’d seen his father regularly, during awkward visits and strained outings, but it felt like there was a hollow space inside him. His mother had wanted her husband back, though, so Chris had done what he could—getting in trouble at school so his parents would have to meet in the principal’s office. But then later his more mature attempts also met with failure…
The intercom buzzed, shaking him off that line of thought. He listened to Lara’s voice. “Hi, Chris. Frank Lanvale is here for his one o’clock.”
He thanked her, silently reminding himself to focus on the positive. Things were looking up business-wise. Just as long as nobody found out the truth about him or the secret of Lunch Meetings’ success.
2
“YOU’RE NOT GOING out like that, are you?”
Phoebe Jayne Hollinger burst through the open door of Rei’s house in Miraloma Park at exactly nine o’clock. P.J. was always prompt about her lateness. Stepping aside, Rei looked down at the white dress shirt and plain black skirt she wore with low-heeled pumps. Judging by P.J.’s incredulous tone, her best friend didn’t like the outfit as much as she did.
“I think I look nice, thank you very much.” Rei turned and walked toward the living room where she’d been reading in her favorite chair near the gas fire.
P.J. followed, her heels clicking on the hardwood floors. “That’s the problem. You’re supposed to look sexy. We’re going to a nightclub, not a Bar Association function.”
“I’m not good at sexy.” A fact that had disappointed some of the men she’d dated. Apparently they’d expected an Asian woman to be a voracious circus acrobat in bed and a bowing doormat everywhere else.
P.J. unfastened her black satin trench coat. “You never let yourself be sexy. When we were growing up, you were always afraid your father would disapprove. Later, you were too focused on school and corporate raiding—”
“That’s the second time this week you’ve mentioned my father and I hope it’s the last.” Rei felt the muscles around her eyes tighten.
P.J. smirked and sank into the couch. “Don’t pull the Judge Face on me. I’m immune. You know you’ll have to deal with him sometime.”
“Not tonight, I don’t. He pushed me out of his life twenty years ago so I’m in no rush to schedule a family reunion.”
Her mother had died in a car accident when she was twelve. With Keiko gone, the stately Queen Anne style house in Pacific Heights had echoed with reproving silences. Only to be interrupted by frightening drunken outbursts from a father who’d been as miserly with hugs as he had been with praise.
After two agonizing years, Gordon Davis had finally decided to move on with his life. Rei had spent all of her time with her beloved maternal grandparents in Japantown while he pursued a seat on the high court bench and a young trophy wife. Once Rei left for college, they saw each other only at the holidays.
“You’re right, honey. I’m sorry. We’re supposed to be celebrating.” P.J. twisted on her seat and dug into the pocket of her coat. She set a small silver box on the bleached wood coffee table. “HappyAnniversary.”
Rei let out a half laugh, half sob and pressed a hand to her mouth. Her vision wavered as tears filled her eyes and a knot of emotion formed in her throat. She sat down next to her friend and reached for her hand. “Thank you for remembering, Peej. And for a lot of other reasons as well.”
P.J. squeezed her fingers in return and offered a watery smile. “I’m just so glad that you’re still here. There were so many days when you didn’t think you’d make it this far, but I wasn’t about to lose my best bud.”
“God, I still can’t believe it’s been a whole year since the diagnosis….”
Ductal carcinoma in situ.
Her doctor had said she was lucky—lucky?—the tumor was less than one centimeter, they’d found it early, and the cancer hadn’t spread to the lymph nodes. Rei’s immediate reaction had been disbelief—the ultrasound tech must have screwed up because there was no history of cancer in her family. She’d been stunned and confused and sorry as hell that she hadn’t gotten regular mammograms as she was supposed to.
Then she’d been terrified. She would never forget the knife jab of fear that wouldn’t go away. Sure, in the abstract, everybody had to die sometime. But, not her. Not now. After that came anger, a lot of anger. At her body, at the universe, at her father who acted like it was contagious and at Jack, another of her arrogant, opinionated ex-boyfriends, who had walked out when she most needed comfort and reassurance.
After lumpectomy surgery she’d endured radiation treatment and chemotherapy sessions that had left her exhausted and nauseated. The glossy black hair she’d always been so proud of had thinned out and she’d lost fifteen pounds from lack of appetite….
Then, as suddenly as she’d been diagnosed, she’d finished with the treatments. There had been no formal exit from sick to well, just the slow physical and mental recovery until one day she woke up and the cancer wasn’t the first thing on her mind. Of course, she would continue to take the Tamoxifen for another four years and have a follow-up visit every six months.
Rei had survived and in surviving had reevaluated her priorities. She’d gotten rid of a soulless renovated flat in North Beach and bought her house; taken up yoga and a healthy diet and tried to appreciate every day of the rest of her life.
Not to mention the people in it. Rei kissed P.J.’s cheek and tucked one leg up on the couch. Reaching for the box, she unwrapped it to find a silver charm bracelet. Holding it to the light revealed that each of the twelve clear crystals had a tiny pink ribbon inside.
“Oh, Peej, it’s beautiful.”
“A little classier than a rubber band, I thought.”
Rei fastened the delicate chain around her wrist. “I love it. Thank you so much.”
P.J. cleared her throat then cheerfully clapped her hands. “So, are you ready to go party with wild abandon?”
She sighed and rubbed her neck. “Actually… I had a bad day at court and I don’t think I’m up to screaming to be heard over a syncopated drumbeat. Why don’t we just go out for a late supper and talk?”
“Nope. You don’t need talk, you need action.” P.J. wiggled her brows suggestively.
Rei responded with a tiny twinge of interest. It had been awhile—a long while—since she’d had any “action.” Lately there’d been an almost constant tension