On Any Given Sundae by Marilyn Brant Page B

“Well,
more’s coming.” She grinned at him. “How’s my darling hubby? At
home asleep yet?”
    “No, not yet.” He relayed Tony’s message
about her mom and the canceled appointments while studying with new
eyes the absolutely, falling-over-drunk Elizabeth Daniels.
    “Goody!” Maria-Louisa shouted. “I just hate
getting my hair cut!”
    This inspired a chorus of “Me, Too”s from the
women and an “I especially hate it” from Elizabeth.
    Which led to a moment of hushed sympathy
before a burst of:
    “Oh, it must be really, really hard to find
someone who can cut long, curly hair.”
    “But it’s so beautiful. What do you do to
tame the waves?”
    “My sister in Minneapolis uses one of those
special conditioners that reduce frizziness while still
strengthening the roots and stopping split ends…”
    He watched Elizabeth glance around the group
and grin.
    “Gotta try that stuff then,” she said before
chugging the rest of her margarita.
    “More all around!” Maria-Louisa proclaimed,
batting her eyelashes in appreciation at the waiter’s arrival, a
fresh pitcher on his tray.
    “How are you all getting home?” Rob
asked.
    “Stevie’s picking us up in his minivan,” one
of the neighbor ladies said of her husband. “He wanted that tank.
He got it. Now he has to use it for something worthwhile.”
    They all started laughing again for no good
reason.
    “Wait,” Sandy said. They paused.
    “Another Garth Brooks song!” four of the
ladies shouted at once. The whole group rose and began wiggling and
jiggling. Elizabeth’s moves were even wilder and freer than the
rest.
    His supposedly reserved sister-in-law spun
into him. “Dance with us, Roberto. Shake that booty.”
    Additional hoots and hollers followed. He
stood motionless.
    Elizabeth grabbed his hand. “Oh, come on , Rob. We’ve all got the beat.” And she pulled him toward
her, raised his arm above her head and twirled underneath it.
    “I think that was the Go-Go’s, not Garth,”
one of them said, swinging her hair in a full 360°.
    “Who cares?” said another.
    Elizabeth twirled again, lost her balance and
lunged right for his chest. He caught her and pulled her close to
steady her. She gave him a death squeeze and he automatically
hugged her tighter. Then her grip relaxed and her soft body wilted
in his arms. She buried her face in the Brewers jersey he’d
snitched from Tony’s closet, snuggled up to him like a baby bunny
and sighed.
    “I’m really tired,” she whispered.
    He smoothed her luscious hair with his
fingertips. “I can drive you to your apartment,” he said, fighting
the image of those beautiful reddish-brown curls fanned out on a
white silk pillow.
    “Hmm. Okay.” She rubbed her eyes and yawned.
“It was going to be too late before Ivan got off his shift
anyway.”
    “What?” Who the hell was Ivan?
    She pointed vaguely in the direction of one
of the waiters. “I’ll pick him up next time,” she said, turning to
say her goodbyes to the group as he stared at her dumbfounded. She
was going to pick up some other guy? Not a chance! He shot Ivan a
death stare and the laughing waiter took a few worried strides back
toward the bar. That’s right, bucko. Stay away if you know
what’s good for you.
    Meanwhile, Elizabeth thanked the women for
the fun time and forced his sister-in-law into taking some money
for her share of the margaritas. Then she leaned into him again,
slipped her little arm around his waist and stumbled a few steps
forward.
    “Off we go,” she said. She ran her free palm
against his abs. “Mmmmm.”
    “Mmm, what?” He took one final glance around
the room and caught Tara Welles’s stunned gaze and dropped jaw a
few feet from them. He looked away.
    “You’ve got one hot body, Rob Gabinarri,”
Elizabeth said. Loudly. The ladies’ group wolf-whistled. “Now, take
me home.”
    Holy Cannoli.
     

CHAPTER SEVEN
     
    Elizabeth felt strange. Lightheaded. Her feet
rocked under her as if she were