Reflected in You: A Crossfire Novel

“My dad uses that line.”
    “Must be true, then.”
    “Must be a standard guy finagle,” I shot back. “How do you and Steven divvy up coffee making?”
    “We don’t.” He grinned. “There’s a Starbucks on the corner by our place.”
    “I’m sure there’s a way to call that cheating, but I haven’t had enough caffeine to think of it yet.” I passed over his filled mug to him. “Which probably means I shouldn’t share the idea that just came to me.”
    “Go for it. If it really sucks, I can hold it against you forever.”
    “Gee. Thanks.” I held my mug between both hands. “Would it work to market the blueberry coffee like tea instead? You know, the coffee in a chintz teacup and saucer with maybe a scone and some clotted cream in the background? Give it a high-end, midafternoon snack sort of treatment? Throw in a fabulously handsome Englishman to sip it with?”
    Mark’s lips pursed as he thought about it. “I think I like it. Let’s go run it by the creatives.”
    * * *
     
    “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to Las Vegas?”
    I sighed inwardly at the high note of irritated anxiety in my mother’s voice and adjusted my grip on my desk phone receiver. I’d barely returned my butt to my chair when the phone had rung. I suspected if I checked my voice mail, I’d find a message or two from her. When she got worked up about something, she couldn’t let it go. “Hi, Mom. I’m sorry. I planned on calling you at lunch and catching up.”
    “I love Vegas.”
    “You do?” I thought she hated anything remotely related to gambling. “I didn’t know that.”
    “You would’ve if you’d asked.”
    There was a hurt note in my mother’s breathy voice that made me wince. “I’m sorry, Mom,” I said again, having learned as a child that repeated apologies went a long way with her. “I needed to spend some downtime with Cary. We can talk about a future trip to Vegas, though, if you’d like to go sometime.”
    “Wouldn’t that be fun? I’d like to do fun things with you, Eva.”
    “I’d like that, too.” My eyes went to the picture of my mother and Stanton. She was a beautiful woman, one who radiated a vulnerable sensuality to which men responded helplessly. The vulnerability was real—my mom was fragile in many ways—but she was a man-eater, too. Men didn’t take advantage of my mom; she walked all over them.
    “Do you have plans for lunch? I could make a reservation and come get you.”
    “Can I bring a co-worker?” Megumi had hit me up with a lunch invitation when I’d come in, promising to regale me with the tale of her blind date.
    “Oh, I’d love to meet the people you work with!”
    My mouth curved with genuine affection. My mom drove me nuts a lot, but at the end of the day, her biggest fault was that she loved me too much. Combined with her neurosis, it was a maddening flaw, but one motivated by the best of intentions. “Okay. Pick us up at noon. And remember, we only get an hour, so it’ll have to be close by and quick.”
    “I’ll take care of it. I’m excited! See you soon.”
    * * *
     
    Megumi and my mother took to each other right away. I recognized the familiar starry-eyed look on Megumi’s face when they met, because I’d seen it so often over the years. Monica Stanton was a stunning woman, the kind of classic beauty you couldn’t help but stare at because you couldn’t believe anyone could be that perfect. Plus, the royal purple hue of the wingback she’d elected to sit in was an amazing backdrop for her golden hair and blue eyes.
    For her part, my mom was delighted by Megumi’s fashion sense. While my wardrobe choices leaned more toward traditional and ready-to-wear, Megumi favored unique combinations and color, much like the décor of the trendy café near Rockefeller Center my mom had taken us to.
    The place reminded me of Alice in Wonderland , with its gilt and jewel-toned velvets used on uniquely shaped furniture. The chaise Megumi was perched on had an exaggerated curved back, while my mother’s wingback had gargoyles for feet.
    “I’m still trying to figure out what’s wrong with him,” Megumi went on. “I was looking, let me tell you. I mean a guy that great shouldn’t be slumming it with blind dates.”
    “Hardly slumming it,” my mom protested. “I’m sure he’s wondering how he lucked out with you.”
    “Thanks!” Megumi grinned at me. “He was seriously hot. Not Gideon Cross hot, but hot all the same.”
    “How