LITMIR.BIZ

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just landed an eight-figure account. “Partner” didn’t seem as far-fetched as it had last week…or at least an office with a window.

      “What’s the dress code for this evening?”

      He made a rueful noise. “Dressy. And Ellen is a bit of a clotheshorse. I’m not saying it’ll make a difference…”

      “But it might,” I finished, my cheeks warming when I remembered the woman’s critical glance over my aged navy suit and serviceable pumps yesterday. I wasn’t exactly famous for my style—my most trendy clothes were season-old steals from designer outlets. I was more of an off-the-rack kind of girl, and I didn’t relish running up my credit card for a one-night outfit. But drastic times called for plastic measures. “I’ll find something nice,” I promised.

      “I know you’ll make me look good.”

      I blinked—Barry considered me a reflection on him? That was serious couple-stuff…wasn’t it? I straightened with pride at his compliment.

      “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

      “Great,” I said. “Oh, and thanks…Barry…for the recommendation.” We had never quite graduated to pet names and as tempted as I was to say “sweetie” or “hon,” I decided that while he was hooking me up with a revenue stream with his boss, this might not be the best time to start getting gushy.

      “Anything for you,” he said, then hung up.

      I smiled, but when I disconnected the phone, panic immediately set in—I had two pimples from last week’s peanut M&M’s binge, and my nails were a wreck. It would be next to impossible to get a manicure at the last minute on Saturday.

      I jumped up and whirled into action. After a shower, I dialed the cell phone of my friend Kenzie Mansfield Long, who was the most stylish person I knew; although I wasn’t sure if she’d have service in the rural area of the state where she lived on weekends.

      “Hello?” she sang into the receiver.

      “Hi, it’s Denise. I was taking a chance on reaching you—you have service now?”

      “A tower just went up on the next ridge. Jar Hollow officially has cellular service.”

      “Did Sam arrange that just for you?” I asked with a laugh. Her doting veterinarian husband was doing everything in his power to make country living more bearable for his city-bred wife, à la Lisa in Green Acres.

      “The service isn’t just for me,” Kenzie protested. “It’s for the entire town. And it helps me and Sam to stay in touch when we’re apart during the week.”

      At the mischievous note in my friend’s voice, I had the feeling that phone sex supplemented the couple’s seemingly insatiable lust for each other. Kenzie’s—or should I say Sam’s—homemade dildo cast from the real, um, thing was infamous among our circle of friends. After seeing it, I could barely make eye contact with the man. In fact, it was that darn dildo that had resurrected my fantasies of Redford. He had been an amazing specimen of virility and, um…dimension.

      Okay, the man was hung like a stallion…not that I’d ever seen a stallion’s penis, but word on the street was that the equine species was gifted in that department. The fact that Redford’s family in Kentucky was in the horse business had burned the association even deeper into my depraved brain.

      No, I wasn’t jealous of Kenzie’s relationship with Sam…most of the time. I had known great, mind-blowing lust with Redford, but our relationship had burned out as quickly as a cheap candle. Barry, on the other hand, was no dynamo in bed, but he had staying power in other areas.

      His IRA account was a whopper.

      “How was the ‘running of the brides’?” Kenzie asked, breaking into my strange musings. “Did Cindy find a gown?”

      “Yes,” I said, then decided to ’fess up before Cindy told on me. “And I, um, bought a gown, too.”

      There was silence on the other end, then, “Barry proposed?”

      “No,” I said quickly, feeling like an idiot. “But I thought, you know, if ever….well…the dress was dirt cheap,” I finished lamely.

      “Ah,” Kenzie said. “A bargain—now I understand. Well, one of these days, Barry is bound to come around. Valentine’s Day is just around the corner, you know.”

      “Subject change. I called because I have a style emergency.” I explained about the honors dinner and my desire to wow Ellen Brant and her pocketbook with my stunning sense of fashion. “Any suggestions?”

      “You could wear your wedding gown,” Kenzie said, then cracked up laughing.

      “I’m hanging up.”

      “I’m kidding. Gee, lighten up.” Then she snapped her fingers. “I saw the cutest striped dress in the window of Benderlee’s, and I remember thinking it would look smashing on you.”

      “Will it smash the credit line on my VISA card?”

      “Probably, but think of it as an investment.” She laughed. “Knowing you, you’ll think of a way to write the dress off on your taxes as a business expense.”

      “Ha, ha.”

      “I’m not kidding—I can’t believe how much Sam and I are getting back on our taxes this year, thanks to you. If you ever decide to go into tax preparation, I want to invest.”

      I laughed. “Thanks.”

      “And go to Nordstrom’s for shoes. Ask for Lito, tell him I sent you.”

      My shoulders fell. “Okay.”

      “And tell me you’re not going to wear your hair in a ponytail.”

      I squinted. “I’m not going to wear my hair in a ponytail?”

      “For goodness’ sake, Denise, loosen up. Your ponytail is so tight, it’s a wonder you don’t have an aneurysm.”

      My friends were good at reminding me that I was a tight ass. And a tightwad. “I’m loose,” I argued, rolling my shoulders in my best imitation of a “groove”—until my neck popped painfully. I grimaced—was it possible to break your own neck?

      “Wear your hair down and buy a pair of chandelier earrings.”

      “You think?”

      “I was under the impression that you called for my advice.”

      “I did.”

      “You want this woman’s business, don’t you?”

      “Yes.”

      “Then you gotta do what you gotta do.”

      I sighed. “You’re right.”

      “So…Barry set you up to do business with his boss,” she said in a singsongy tone. “Maybe it’s a good thing you bought that wedding gown. It sounds like he’s thinking long-term.”

      I glanced at the dress I had so foolishly purchased and gave a nervous little laugh. “Or maybe he’s trying to suck up to his boss.”

      “Hmm. Sounds like someone needs to take a lesson from Cindy in positive thinking.”

      I thanked Kenzie for her help, then hung up with a cleansing exhale. Kenzie was right—I should be grateful for the opportunity that Barry had made for me, instead of questioning his motives. I was letting my frustration with our lackluster sex life color other aspects of our relationship. It was embarrassing, really—I was an intelligent woman. I had proof that elements other than sex were more important to a successful long-term, um…association. Financial compatibility, for instance. Sex waned over time. But dividend reinvestment stock plans were forever.

      A sudden thought prompted me to pick up the phone and order two plane tickets to Las Vegas for a long weekend as a Valentine’s

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