Tame An Older Man. Kara Lennox

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      Daisy was watching for her, and ran up the moment Phoebe appeared. “Where have you been?”

      “Had a plumbing emergency, almost a disaster. Everything looks great!” She had to raise her voice to be heard over the mariachi music. Hiring the quartet had seemed like a good idea at the time, but she hadn’t realized the music would be so loud. Fortunately, just about everybody in the whole building was at the party, so the music volume shouldn’t bother anyone.

      Except maybe Wyatt Madison, the old curmudgeon.

      “You’ve got to see Elise’s dress,” Daisy said. “She looks so great! Ever since you did that makeover for her, she’s seemed so, oh, I don’t know, glamorous.”

      “She wasn’t exactly chopped liver before the makeover,” Phoebe said, pausing to shake hands with the real estate agent who lived in 3A, on the other side of the Madisons.

      “When are you going to do a makeover for me?” Daisy asked. “After all, I’m the one trying to attract a husband.” All Phoebe could do was laugh. Daisy, with her chin-length auburn hair and flashing green eyes, had the kind of striking personal style Phoebe wouldn’t dare tamper with. Tonight she wore a green, batik gauze dress—probably designed and hand-dyed by her clothing-designer mother—and chunky jade jewelry that set off her delicate good looks to perfection. She ran a trendy art gallery, Native Art, and she was a wonderfully gifted potter herself, though she was far too modest about her talent.

      Men ought to be standing in line to marry her, Phoebe thought, but so far her and Elise’s attempts to find Daisy a suitable mate had met with dismal failure—despite the best of advice from author Jane Jasmine.

      “There ought to be some good candidates here tonight,” Phoebe said, grabbing a tortilla chip off the buffet table as they passed. “With all of Elise’s siblings coming—”

      “They’re all girls. Except one, but I don’t think he’ll be here.”

      “Oh, right, the oldest one, the lawyer. What’s his name?”

      “I forget,” Daisy said airily. “I didn’t meet him that time he came over to Elise’s, remember? I was hiding in her bedroom with curlers and green stuff all over my face.”

      At the mention of the green mask, all Phoebe could think about was her own earlier humiliation.

      “Hey, what about Wyatt Madison?” Daisy asked, as if she’d just read Phoebe’s mind. “Isn’t he supposed to be here?”

      Phoebe’s heart fluttered for half a second, then calmed. “Oh, I meant to tell you. He’s not coming.”

      “Darn,” Daisy said, though she sounded as if she really didn’t care much. “I’m dying to know what he’s like. He couldn’t possibly be the paragon his grandparents make him out to be.”

      “He’s not,” Phoebe said.

      Daisy’s delicate eyebrows arched. “Oh, really? Do tell—you’re holding out, girlfriend.”

      “I just met him tonight. He’s old.”

      “Old?” Daisy looked puzzled. “How old could he be? He has grandparents.”

      “He’s at least…thirty-eight. And he’s got gray hair.”

      “Really? I like gray hair. Well, I mean, on some men it looks distinguished.”

      Phoebe wouldn’t have used the word distinguished to describe Wyatt. His grandfather Rolland, maybe. Wyatt would probably look like Rolland someday. But currently, he was more dangerous-looking than distinguished.

      “So what happened? How’d you meet him?”

      Phoebe quickly told Daisy the horror story.

      Daisy laughed until tears rolled down her pink cheeks. “That green mask is cursed! Well, at least I don’t have to worry about competition from you! He’s probably written you right off his list as Avocado Woman with Plumbing Problems.”

      Phoebe was afraid Daisy was right. “As if. I’m not looking, you know.”

      “Like that matters. Every guy you meet falls all over you. I mean, what guy doesn’t fantasize about dating a movie star?”

      “One lousy part in a really bad soap opera doesn’t make me a movie star,” Phoebe said. “Oh, there’s Bill. I have to tell him about my washer hose.”

      “I’m heading for the margarita machine. You want one?”

      Phoebe nodded. After her plumbing ordeal, she could use a dozen, but she’d settle for one.

      “Well, hey there, Phoebe,” Bill White said. He sat at a small table, working on a plate full of fajitas. “You’re looking beautiful, as always.”

      “Thank you,” Phoebe said automatically. “Where were you an hour ago? I was in desperate need.”

      Bill shot a quick, guilty look toward Frannie, who sat at the same table but pretended not to pay attention to him. “Oh, just around. What’s the problem?”

      “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow,” Phoebe said, realizing that Bill, who had always been available to fix any problem, had probably for once in his life turned off his beeper because he’d been spending time with Frannie. Bill and Frannie had been making cow eyes at each other for years, both of them too shy to do anything about their mutual crush. But Elise had set them up on a date a few weeks ago, and despite a shaky start, now they were something of an item.

      Cupid had been busy, Phoebe mused as she left them to find Elise and James. Now, if only he’d shoot Daisy with one of his little arrows.

      Phoebe spent the next few minutes meeting some of James’s friends and family, including his jovial housekeeper, MaryBelle, whom he clearly adored like a favorite aunt.

      “You look so familiar,” MaryBelle had said at once. “Wait, I, oh, I know! Vanessa Vance! You look exactly like that woman on ‘Skin Deep’!”

      “That was me,” Phoebe admitted. By now she was used to being recognized, though it happened less and less often as “Skin Deep” faded from the public memory.

      At least MaryBelle didn’t gush. “I was really mad when they killed off Vanessa,” she said quietly. “You were the best one on the show. It got canceled right after you left.”

      Phoebe smiled, no longer bitter about the experience.

      “Why didn’t you get on another show?” Mary-Belle asked innocently. “Or in the movies? You were good enough.”

      “I tried,” Phoebe said. She’d gone on lots of auditions, but she never got cast in anything except bit parts and a vacuum cleaner commercial. “I guess my heart just wasn’t in it anymore. I’m glad to be out of Hollywood.”

      MaryBelle gave her a sympathetic pat on the hand, then went on to chat with one of Elise’s sisters. Elise herself slipped away from the knot of her family and joined Phoebe, who was straightening a stack of napkins and putting out more forks on the buffet table.

      “You СКАЧАТЬ