anal probe vs. Steve Raleigh? No contest.
“That was a crazy date. I give you credit. But an asshole versus a guy who looks at assholes all day for a living? C’mon.”
“I saw Gerald for the first time in ten years,” Suzanne said, as if holding her place in the lineup of horrors to be shared.
Kari and Suzanne had met back in college, at freshman orientation, when Kari was a student and Suzanne the instructor. They’d been fast friends since, though their paths had diverged radically. Suzanne’s ROTC scholarship led her off to war the week after she’d graduated at twenty-one, while Kari had gone into fashion design, then merchandising, and finally mystery shopping management. She managed a big division for Fokused Shop-rite, one of the biggest mystery shopping and consumer optimization companies in the country.
Right now, though, she was using her breasts to catch broken potato chips, so...
“No way! Way to bury the lede, Suzanne. What happened?”
“I saw Declan McCormick naked, served Gerald with inheritance paperwork that might be worth nine figures, and went on a date with a blowhard who makes Donald Trump look like Mother Teresa.”
Kari stared at her, mouth open, like Dory the fish.
Smoochy walked out of the room, curled into a ball in her dog bed, and covered her eyes with her paws.
“I know. It’s a lot,” Suzanne said with a laugh, grabbing her bag of carrot sticks, dipping them in sour cream and crunching away.
“You saw Declan McCormick naked?” Kari gasped. “Is he as hot in the flesh as he is in a suit?”
Suzanne’s cheeks went pink. The taste of Gerald, the brush of his lips, the sweep of his tongue in her mouth and those hands, oh those hands on her back, so masterful and yearning, had completely driven the vision of Declan McCormick’s nude body out of her mind.
Okay. Mostly driven the vision of Declan McCormick’s nude body out of her mind.
There might be a tiny remnant of memory remaining.
Or not so tiny.
“Suz!” Kari whapped her arm. “Get out of your drool! Spill! Share details!”
“About Gerald’s kiss?”
Kari inhaled sharply, hands on her chest, her palms beginning to flap in overeager excitement. “He kissed you! Was this while Declan McCormick was naked?” Her eyes flew wide open. “Was this a threesome? Omigod, you had a threesome with Declan Mc—wait. He’s married. I know Shannon. We’ve worked together on an account. She’s going to be devastated!” Kari alternated between glaring at Suzanne as if she’d actually had a threesome with Declan McCormick, and processing her disappointment if Suzanne hadn’t .
“I did not have a threesome with Declan and Gerald.”
Kari’s face fell. Disappointment won.
“Well, at least I don’t have to be the bearer of bad news for Shannon,” Kari muttered, staring at the carrot in Suzanne’s hand. “And yum! When did you start eating that combination?”
“Desperation. This no-sugar, no-grains diet is making me try damn near anything.”
“Combined with your lack of sex, your desperation meter is about as high as can be.”
Suzanne pulled out her fiercest naval recruit stare.
“That—that doesn’t work—on me. Oh, damn.” Kari shielded her eyes. “You could play Nurse Ratched if they ever do a remake of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest .”
Suzanne snorted. “She was an amateur.”
“Or Dolores Umbridge.”
“He broke your heart all those years ago.” Kari gave her a sympathetic side-eye. “You finally stopped talking about him a few years ago.”
“I know.” Suzanne shut herself up with a carrot.
“And stopped going to therapy.”
Smoochy made an adorable snoring sound from her little bed.
“Right,” she sighed, the food turning tasteless.
“Are you okay?”
“No,” Suzanne answered honestly. “He kissed me. Twice. But no explanation. No offer to talk. Just kissing.”
“That’s more action than you’ve gotten in a while.”
Suzanne opened her mouth to