Free What Looks Like Crazy by Charlotte Hughes Page B

second time and the urgency had been replaced by long, lingering kisses and gentle explorations, that I realized Jay Rush still had the master key to my heart.
    My first mistake had been going to the grand opening to begin with. I should have called my mother and pretended to have Lyme disease. Now I was forced to face the absolute truth that I was still as crazy about Jay as I’d been the day I married him. Nothing had changed in the six months we’d been apart. I was going to have to go through the whole heartbreak thing again.
    As I waited for the cab, I worked on my multiplication tables.
    For once, luck seemed to be with me; the cab arrived in ten minutes. Jay’s car had not left the parking lot, and if he’d come out to look for me, I hadn’t seen him from my vantage point. I darted toward the cab as fast as I could, waving both hands in the air so the driver wouldn’t miss me. As if he could. I yanked the door open, lost my footing, and all but tumbled into the backseat.
    â€œHoly mother of God!” the man said in a thick Italian accent. “You’re not wearing underwear.”
    I blushed so hard that I was certain I’d singed my eyebrows. I slammed the door and tried to tuck my dress under me as I recalled what Mona had said about what went on in the backseats of cabs. I was too embarrassed to meet the driver’s gaze, but I glanced at his photo near the meter and saw that his name was Tony. “Um, Tony, I’m in a really big hurry,” I said.
    He gunned the engine and squealed from the parking lot, sending me flying across the backseat again. I was aware of him darting looks in the rearview mirror, from which a crucifix dangled. “Does your father know what you’re doing?” he asked.
    â€œExcuse me?”
    â€œThis is no life for a pretty girl like you.”
    â€œI’m not a hooker, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m a professional in the business of helping people, um, heal.” I’m not sure why I felt it necessary to defend myself to a perfect stranger, but the crucifix was staring me in the face.
    â€œOh, so you’re telling me you’re a nurse? Well, that’s some uniform you have there, young lady.”
    I ignored him.
    â€œI have a daughter your age,” he said. As he sped down the street, holding the steering wheel with one hand, he whipped out his wallet with the other. “This is her picture.”
    She had her father’s nose. “She’s very attractive,” I lied. With his thumb, Tony flipped the picture, and I found myself looking at the fattest baby I’d ever seen. He had his mother’s nose.
    â€œMy grandson, Antonio,” he said. “Named after me, of course,” he added proudly. “They call him Tony Number Two. There is nothing more precious than a grandchild. You should get married and give your poor mother grandchildren before you’re all used up like a bar of hand soap.”
    â€œLook, I appreciate your concern, Tony, but I need to get to my office.” I sat back in the seat, crossed my arms, and stared out the window. Tony obviously got the message, because he kept quiet the rest of the way.
    By the time we arrived, I’d managed to repair my hair with the plastic hair pick in my purse.
    I pulled out my cash, paid Tony, and hurried from the cab. I tried to ignore the stares of those waiting beside me for the elevator. When I stepped out on the fourth floor, I froze. Down the hall, people spilled from my reception room, sipping coffee and eating pastries.
    Oh, crap! How could I have forgotten Open House Day, which fell on the first Monday of each month? Mona had come up with the idea in the hope of building my practice and ultimately making me famous. There was little I could say, since she paid for the advertisement as well as the caterer. Plus I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, even though the event hadn’t produced a single new