Courting Disaster by Joanne Pence Read Free Book Online Page B

What in the world was going on? “I’m so glad to hear it,” Angie said nervously.
    â€œYes,” Paavo said, his gaze hard as ice.
    â€œRight,” Sal murmured, returning a smoldering glare.
    â€œHow nice,” Angie added, trying to get them to remember she was there.
    â€œExcuse me, Angie.” Paavo faced her. “I’ve got to get back to work, I’ll call you later.” He made a ninety-degree turn toward Sal with as much finesse as a tin soldier. “Good lunch, Sal. Thanks.”
    The two stiffly shook hands. Both looked positively miserable.
    â€œMe, too.” Sal also backed up. “Got to get home. Arrivederci, Smith. Angelina, ciao !”
    The men darted off in opposite directions as she stood rooted to the spot.
    Angie watched them go. The Tyson-Holyfield bite-off-an-earlobe boxing match had nothing on those two.

Chapter 5
    Friday night with nothing to do.
    The only good thing about it, Stan thought, was that it wasn’t Saturday night. Although, to be honest, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been excited about a date for a Saturday night. Were the women getting worse or was he growing choosier? Or just not interested in disrupting the placid but dull life he was living?
    Saturday nights, more and more, meant renting movies from Blockbuster. Sometimes he’d call up a buddy from work and they’d go barhopping to meet women. The right women, though, were always already taken.
    Like Angie.
    He needed to get out of this funk. If he was being completely honest with himself, he’d admit that Angie never was and never would be the woman for him. For one thing, she was too bossy with him. He noticed she never bossed Paavo. That told him a lot.
    The last thing he wanted was a girlfriend who acted like a drill sergeant. He wanted someonesweet and pleasant. Malleable wasn’t bad, either, come to think of it. Someone who idolized him, found no faults, praised his virtues. The perfect woman.
    Angie had mentioned a few times that the women who worked at Haute Cuisine magazine would go to a bar after work on Fridays. Whenever she had an assignment with them she’d go along to schmooze with the editors so they’d remember her if a staff position ever opened up.
    Unfortunately, Nona Farraday already occupied the only staff position she really wanted—restaurant reviewer. Angie was sure if the woman died she’d take the job with her just so Angie wouldn’t get it.
    Stan’s remembering Angie’s story was either because it had so impressed him or was a measure of how desperately lonely he’d become.
    At four o’clock he left his apartment and took a cable car, then two Munis across town to the Blue Unicorn. He didn’t own a car. Didn’t see the need for one in the city crisscrossed with bus and cable car lines. It was nearly six o’clock before he reached the bar, which wasn’t as bad as it seemed when you considered that a person driving could easily waste an hour trying to find street parking.
    On the way home he’d splurge and take a taxi. Maybe.
    Standing near the bar, laughing and chatting with a couple of women, was the aforementioned Nona Farraday, beautiful as ever. Stan worked his way nearby and ordered Cutty on the rocks. Drink in hand, he turned, caught her eye, and feigned surprise. “Nona,” he said.
    She didn’t respond as she eyed him from his Helmut Lang sports jacket to his handmade Santoni loafers. He owned a few expensive clothes, bought mostly for going to dinners and events with his parents in Beverly Hills. Since his parents didn’t have much to do with him, the clothes were hardly worn.
    Apparently finding him acceptable, Nona gazed archly. “Have we met?”
    â€œI live across the hall from Angie Amalfi.” He held out his hand. “Stan Bonnette.”
    â€œMr. Bonnet.” She shook his hand. “How could I have