In that moment, Cathy realized his happiness was her happiness. “Are we all in then?” Cathy asked.

  Jill lifted her glass of ice tea as if making a toast. “To success.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY- SEVEN

  Cathy sank into a chair in the back room of the cafe. It had been a long week. Jamie walked in, took one look at her, and began rubbing her tight shoulders and kneading out the knots.

  “Too much thinking. Relax,” he said.

  Her muscles melted into his hands. She closed her eyes and let the warm feeling sink in. She imagined ripping open his shirt and kissing his smooth chest, then running her tongue over the rest of his skin.

  “I appreciate everything you’re doing, but I hope you aren’t opening this new café out of sympathy,” he said.

  Cathy stood, her body inches from his. Heat rushed up her body, burning a trail to her lips. Did he see her need? His eyes caressed her lips.

  She let herself smile. “And here I thought I was being selfish keeping you as my chef.”

  “Cathy,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms. His warm breath penetrated her hair. “My sweet Cathy.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Jamie.”

  Their lips met, gently as first, then with urgency, blocking out anything but each other.

  He held her close. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  “For what? The kiss?”

  He gazed into her. “For caring, for offering to share this business that means so much to you.”

  Words wouldn’t come. She knew what she wanted to say, but how could she say I love you? It was so wrong. “Jamie, what are we doing?”

  His face went white. “Do you want to cancel the restaurant plans?”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  Jamie stared at the floor. More than anything she wanted to reach out and say all was fine. But it was not, no matter how much she wanted it to be.

  Obviously pulling together his feelings, he stood tall and sighed. “I’ll go and let you think things out. Let me know what you decide.”

  “Jamie,” she said. “I haven’t changed my mind, and I won’t.”

  Emotions crossed his face but he held his composure and turned to go.

  She walked out into the dining room and crumbled into a booth. It was almost closing time and Tim was straightening up the shelves. Perhaps a good cry followed by several glasses of wine would help her feel better.

  “Hey, Tim,” she yelled. “Want to go get a glass of wine somewhere?”

  Tim walked over and gave her his all-knowing look. What was it about gay guys? They seemed to pick up on everything. And in Tim’s case, wear impeccable threads. His jeans still looked ironed after a full shift, and his tight T-shirt showed off the results of his weight lifting routine. He sat down next to her and shot her a look that said, “Oh you’re sad, come cry on my shoulder.”

  She so wanted to. She was dying to tell someone, and Tim didn’t tell…or judge.

  “Cathy,” he’d say, “I’ve done it all and more. We’re just human, ya know.”

  Predictably, Cathy’s head landed on his shoulder and Tim took her hand in his.

  “You’ve got it bad, girl.”

  Her exhale came out as a sigh. “Bad.”

  He ruffled up her hair and started singing the song about everybody needing somebody to love.

  Cathy slapped his shoulder and they both laughed.

  “So tell me, what does this one have that all the other pretty boys parading through here drooling over you don’t have—other than that little detail about him being unavailable?” Tim said.

  She shot him a look. With all the cute men coming through the café either checking out Tim or Cathy, it was a loaded question.

  “Jamie’s not my type, girl, not enough muscles. Not like Peter. Now there was a specimen.”

  She saw the pain in his eyes at the mention of Peter’s name. The breakup last year had just about killed Tim. Cathy and Tim had been on the same relationship course for a while: Keep it light, safe, skin deep, heart shut tight. Now Tim was sighing. She saw that faraway look in his eyes when he remembered Peter. The supposedly straight men, often married, who fought their attraction to Tim, were his deadly magnets and his downfall.

  Tim kissed her forehead. “You were there for me, girl, during my high-drama heartbreak. Darling, I am right here for you now.”

  For the first time in what seemed like weeks, Cathy took a deep breath. “I love him,” she whispered, hardly believing the words herself.

  Tim nodded, understanding emanating from his eyes

  “I don’t need your sympathy, I can work this out,” she said, skirting out of the vinyl booth.

  He took her arm. “Are you sure?”

  Cathy’s defenses cracked and she plopped down into the seat. Pain oozed from her pores like a breaking fever. “What am I going to do?”

  He scooted Cathy out of the booth, pushing her to her feet. “Up with you,” he said. “Go wash that pretty face and put on some make-up. We’ll go drown our sorrows at Fife’s.”

  It was the most popular gay resort on the river, packed with men vacationing from the Bay Area. “Well, I’ll certainly be safe from temptation there,” she said.

  “Go,” he said, pointing to the back room. “And come back looking gorgeous.”

  Gorgeous was the last thing she felt as she ran a brush through her thick hair that hadn’t been washed that day. Cathy applied some blush to her cheeks to perk up her fading tan and raspberry lip-gloss to her full lips. She removed her over-shirt and revealed the low cut leotard she was wearing under her hip-hugger jeans. Finally, she made her entrance.

  Tim clapped. “Much better. Girlfriend, let’s go have some fun.”

  ****

  Behind the tall front fence that blocked the entry of Fife’s on the river in Guerneville, it was a whole new world. The upstairs bar was crowded even at 5 p.m. on a weeknight. It was summer, after all. Music was blasting from the large speakers and Cathy recognized Stevie Nicks’s mind-blowing voice singing “I Put a Spell on You.” She bet that happened here quite a bit.

  They took seats at the bar that offered a good view of the beautifully landscaped grounds. Rolling green lawns dotted with tall pines meandered down toward the Russian River.

  Out by the Olympic-size pool, naked men were parading around or draped across plastic chairs. She could smell the Coppertone from here. Tim and Cathy admired the sleek, tan bodies posing and glistening in the sun.

  “What a hunk,” Tim said watching a raven-haired man stretch in front of the window.

  “Nice abs,” Cathy said.

  “And a very nice butt,” Tim finished.

  “I admit, I’m a bit jealous of their all-over tans.”

  Tim’s eyes wandered over the scantily clothed men lounging on chairs all around them. “They probably spend a lot of time at Waller Beach,” he said. “I used to love it there before the police cracked down on the place. Now you have to sneak in.”

  “Too much of a good thing, maybe. I guess all those guys coming up from San Francisco made quite a scene,” Cathy said.

  Tim’s smile broadened. “They sure did,” he said with a wink.

  The bartender came up and put some paper coasters down on the wooden bar. Tim flashed a dazzling smile and ordered two margaritas.

  The bartender, dressed in a skimpy apron over tight shorts and no shirt, barely looked old enough to serve drinks. His strawberry blond curls circled his broad shoulders and his skin looked like polished bronze. An Adonis.

  “Coming right up,” he said with a smile that could melt a glacier.

  Cathy nudged Tim. “He looks interested.”

  Tim beamed then frowned. “I’m sure he gets plenty of action at this place.”

  “You’re not just action, you’re wonderful and talented…and you live here all year.”

  Tim was pretty hot himself with his jet-black curls shaping his Jim Morrison face and his steel-grey eyes. He once toured with one of the NY stage productions of the musical Hair and he had a great tenor voice.

  “Thanks,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Ditto.”

  Other than one other woman, Cathy was in the minority here. She hoped Tim was not going to suggest a nude volleyball game outside next. Tim couldn’t take his eyes off the bartender, so Cathy scanned the room. Interesting pictures lined the wood-paneled walls. The place had quite a history. It was even rumored a murder happened here several years ago.

  Adonis placed their icy margaritas in front of them and brushed Tim’s hand as he did.

  “See, he can’t resist your charms.”

  “Toast,” Tim said, raising his glass. “To men!”

  Cathy clinked her glass. There were certainly enough of them in this place. Kissing in the corners, flirting, eying each other.

  She leaned over and raised her voice to be heard over the raucous laughs and conversations. “What am I doing here anyway?”

  Tim cocked his head. “Getting drunk with your best friend, forgetting about your married lover for five minutes, and most especially, letting your hair down.”

  “Right, thanks for reminding me.” She finished her first drink. “In that case, I’ll have another.”

  “Whoa, hold on. How about we order a little food first?”

  The room spun a little, and food seemed like an excellent choice. Tim looked over a bar menu then waved over the waiter. “We’ll have Fife’s special salad and some chunky fries.” He turned to Cathy. “Their salads are made from produce grown in their own garden out back.”

  “Yum,” she said. “Good greasy comfort food along with healthy greens, perfect.”

  Evening was setting in and the lights dimmed. The place was really rocking now. It looked like a fashion show from Gentleman’s Quarterly. The alcohol had done its job and Cathy was pleasantly numb and happy. The Bay City Rollers were singing, “I Only Want to Be with You” over the speakers, and she tried not to think about Jamie.

  He was not some high school crush and, yeah, she needed to get over this. It was so much more than a crush. Just watching him was enough some days. The way he moved in the kitchen, his fingers caressing the food, making precise knife cuts. When they were together, the moments were magic. He saw right through her, to her very soul, and reflected back acceptance. No one made her feel this way before.

  The song changed swiftly to Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It on.” In the candle-lit room, she saw men dancing with each other. It was getting uncomfortable being the only obviously straight woman here. Cathy noticed a few men making eye contact with her. Just what she needed next was to date a switch hitter. No drama there.

  Tim’s eyes roamed the room, making contact, assessing prospects.

  “How about I just go home and leave you unencumbered in this paradise?” Cathy said.

  Just as she finished her sentence, a devastatingly handsome man in tight black swim trunks, with dark hair glistening in a thin pattern down his bronze chest, pushed his way between them. He put one arm around Cathy and one around Tim.

  “I’m Gary. May I join the two most attractive people in the room?” His smile was taunting and his black eyes sparkled with mischief.

  Tim moved a seat down and patted the bar stool between them for their guest to join them.

  Gary slid in between. “Now don’t go moving too far,” he said, grinning. “Let’s just stay nice and cozy.”

  Tim’s tongue was almost hanging out as he stared at Gary. Cathy could see the fascination. He was very androgynous-looking, with a tall swimmer’s body and charisma rising off him like steam from a boiling pot.

  “The night is young,” he said, staring deeply into Cathy’s eyes. “How about we head over to the Woods and dance the night away?”

  Tim looked at Cathy as she considered the offer. It was a fantastic place to dance, and the company was certainly distracting her from her problems.

  “I’m in. Let’s go,” she said.

  Tim rose. “Let’s boogie then.”

  Gary pulled on a skin-tight slinky top he retrieved from out of his bag. “Cool, lead the way,” he said.

  They were up and out the door and in Tim’s sparkling new Volkswagen Beetle convertible. After having a few drinks, Cathy was glad Tim was driving, even though it was just down Armstrong Road a few miles. They pulled over behind a long line of cars parked on the shoulder of the road. The place was so popular they had to walk a few blocks just to get in. All those San Francisco gays coming up for a wild weekend on the River really boosted tourism.

  The main building was awesome. Once a conservatory of music, it was built completely of wood and almost three stories tall. They entered through the open hexagon-shaped dance area with its mega acoustics resonating music at top volume. The smell of sweat and Brut aftershave turned Cathy’s stomach, but the array of shirtless men vibrating to “You Make Me Feel Like Dancing” completely sidetracked her.

  Tim took Gary’s hand and pulled him seductively toward the dance floor. Gary gave Cathy sad eyes for abandoning her and blew her a kiss.

  Cathy found a seat at the bar and ordered a drink.

  An obviously drunk, half-naked man was swaying in front of her. “Like, hey, pretty lady, how’s about a dance?”

  Dream on, she thought. The music was so loud she had to yell, “Not right now.”

  “Perhaps you’d prefer a trip to the hot tub?” He winked as he swayed. “Can you dig it?”

  Cathy had heard enough about that notorious, secluded hot tub in the woods to stay away forever.

  “No thank you.”

  He leaned his face in close, and his smelly beer breath was nauseating. “Why not? Ah, c’mon.”

  He grabbed her arm and tried to pull her to the floor.

  “Not so fast, buddy.” Tim spun the guy around and pushed him back to the dance floor. He turned back to Cathy. “Hope he didn’t bother you,” Tim said.

  “I’m fine. You go have fun with the hottie.”

  Tim waved Gary away. “Catch up with you in a sec, G-boy.”

  Tim hopped onto the bar seat next to Cathy. Sweat rolled down his naked chest.

  “New crush?” she asked, watching Gary swagger back to the dance floor.

  Tim raised a brow and smiled. “I hope so.”

  “Go on after him, Tim. I’m fine.”

  “You sure?”

  “You’re a sweetheart. I’m fine, go.”

  When the band started to play “The Hustle,” Cathy gulped down the rest of her third margarita. She still had barely eaten, but so what. This was a must-dance-to song. She jumped up to join the groups forming to line dance. All of sudden, giant fans blew wildly and misters sprayed water into their faces. She’d heard of this hurricane theme night, but had never danced in the storm. Everyone screamed out the lyrics, walking, turning, and clapping in unison. The mirror ball threw rainbows over the floor, walls, and people’s faces. Cathy thought she saw Jamie’s face again and again.

  Bodies bumped into her, arms waved in the air as the frenzy built in the room and the temperature skyrocketed. Her shirt was soaked from the mist, but sweat still dripped down her back. The room started to spin along with the flashing rainbows, and the crowd seemed to close in on her. This, combined with too much alcohol, made everything seem surreal. The Doors’ song “People Are Strange” blasted over the speakers next. The words about people being ugly rang in her head. Faces contorted around Cathy and raucous laughter rang in her ears. She tore for the exit, hoping for air, and threw herself through the metal doors into the night.

  The club’s exterior wall braced her as she leant into it.

  “You okay?”

  A skinny guy with a ponytail trailing down his back stood a few feet away smoking pot. The smell turned her stomach, but she nodded.

  “Cool, man,” he said, puffing away. “Didn’t I see you here last week when Sylvester was playing?”

  “Not me, no.”

  Her stomach was rebelling and she wanted to go home. But she did not want to go back inside to ask Tim to drive. Armstrong Woods Road went on for several miles and was black dark, and too far to walk. Balanced precariously against the wall, she tried to walk to Tim’s car. The trees were spinning and her knees gave out and she hit the pavement just as Tim walked out looking for her.

  “Cathy!” He scooped her up and managed with the help of the ponytail guy to get her off the ground.

  “I want to go home.” She didn’t even recognize her own voice.

  “I’ll have you home in a jiff,” Tim said.

  Cathy was drifting off, hardly aware they were walking now. Tim helped her into the back seat of his car, where she promptly passed out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Cathy’s head was splitting and she vowed never to drink that much again. In the kitchen, every knife chop and cupboard door slamming pounded in her brain. Even the clock was blurry. If Brian didn’t come in soon, she was going to fire that stoner. Jamie continued to avoid eye contact as he had in the car all the way to work that morning. Right now, Cathy just didn’t care. She was done letting her life fall apart over some man. A married one at that.

  She walked over to the dairy case in the store area and rummaged around looking for soft tofu for the tostadas. Jamie was right behind her.

  “Where were you last night?” he said. “Did you ever think I might be worried?”

  “Dancing. Tim took me dancing.”

  His expression was strained.

  What was she supposed to say? You don’t own me? You have a wife, and I can do anything I damn well please?

  His heart was in his eyes.

  “Sorry,” she said. And she meant it.

  Satisfied, he turned back into the kitchen and started chopping something.

  Cathy took a breath, turned, and found Tim stocking vitamins right behind her. He had obviously heard everything.

  “Sorry I ruined your night too,” Cathy said.

  Tim winked. “Not your finest hour, princess.”

  She rolled her eyes. The smell of cream of garlic soup was intolerable. “I’m going out for air,” Cathy said. She walked out the back door. Brian was chaining up his bike in the parking lot.