Sparks Fly

of the Fruit of the Loom gang.

    * * *
    “Now where was I?” Susan said many moons later. “Oh yes, Will and I were having such a good time at his house tonight when he invited me to have dinner with him.”
    Will barely managed to keep from spewing his wine all over the table when he heard that flagrant misrepresentation of the few minutes they had spent in his house.

    Susan immediately exclaimed, “Oh honey, are you all right?”
    Honey? “I’m fine.”
    Susan explained, “It’s so hard to remember we’re not married anymore. Sometimes a honey or two just slips out, doesn’t it?” She gave Will a positively adoring look.
    Will couldn’t believe his rotten luck. Here he was in a bistro he didn’t want to be in, having a dinner he didn’t want to eat, with a woman he didn’t want to be with, staring into the eyes of the woman he did want to be with.
    Not to mention the fact that being around Angelina had the oddest effect on him, causing his usually razor-sharp mind to turn to mush. He just couldn’t stop staring at her.
    Krista kicked him under the table. “Try not to be so obvious.”
    Oh yeah, he had almost forgotten. His ex had some crazy notion that they were going to get back together. How the heck was he going to make it clear that he wasn’t the slightest bit interested in her anymore?
    Most men—okay, pretty much every man alive—would have jumped at the chance to be with Susan. She was good-looking and sweet. But she didn’t have even an ounce of what the woman beside her had—a magical, sensual allure.
    If his brain kept this up, he would have to give up his company to write sappy love songs. He was glad for Krista’s advice, though, and made haste to act accordingly. There was no point in letting Susan know she had competition.
    Snapping out of his reverie, he noticed his ex had scooted even closer to Angelina and was sketching something on a napkin. She beamed at him across the small table, looking like a kid in a candy store. “Angelina is giving me a few tips right now. I’m drawing my floor plan for her. Isn’t it exciting?”
    Will grunted noncommittally.
    “Tell me again,” his ex-wife said, “where the love area of my house is and what I need to do. I can’t wait to get home and try this out.”

    * * *
    If Susan got any perkier—or nicer—Angelina was going to be sick. Of course, she supposed if she looked like Susan and had the world lining up to kiss her feet, she’d probably be annoyingly cheerful too.
    Circling the Love and Marriage corner of Susan’s floor plan, Angelina gave the woman a few tips on displaying things in pairs, using red and pink, and hanging romantic art. A few minutes later when the waiter brought them their food, she forced down a couple of bites so that no one would see how out of sorts she was. Too bad her twenty-dollar salad suddenly tasted like it was made entirely of bitter lettuce leaves.
    Finally Susan patted her perfect lips with her napkin. “If you will all excuse me, I’m going to go powder my nose.”
    After she left, Krista leaned in to Angelina and said, “I thought people only said that kind of stuff in the movies.”
    Angelina fought back the frantic giggle that was bubbling up in her throat.
    “Krista,” Will said, “would you mind leaving Angelina and I alone for a minute?”
    Her friend sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “Whatever you have to say to Angelina, you can say in front of me.”
    Angelina turned to Krista with a smile, appreciating her show of solidarity, but the truth was, she wanted to get the whole thing over and done with as quickly as possible.
    “It’s okay, Kris. Would you mind getting the car from valet parking? I’ll be out really quickly.”
    Krista reluctantly stood up. “I’m right outside,” she said, pointing her finger at Will, “so don’t try any funny stuff or I’ll sic your ex-wife on you.”
    “What do you want now?” Angelina wasn’t wasting any time on pleasantries. Although she was nervous and guilty, she was also angry, which helped steel her nerves.
    “Did Susan tell you why she hired you to work with me?”
    So, Will must have finally figured out that Susan wanted to reconcile, Angelina thought with perverse satisfaction. She wanted to see him squirm, but she could never divulge her private conversation with Susan to him. Trying to act detached and professional, she replied, “She is obviously concerned about you.”
    She could tell Will