The Right Fit

Chapter 15

The dashboard of Antony’s car, with all the screens and buttons, looked more like the Millennium Falcon to Maxine. It was a far cry from Rose’s extremely practical, and twelve-year-old sedan. Antony had the radio on a light rock station, the heated seat emitted waves of warmth even through the thick layer of her white coat.

They had been driving for twenty minutes, Maxine had asked him about his background, and now he was replicating the questions.

“And you?” he asked, watching the traffic ahead. “I was born in Toronto,” she said. “So, no, I

haven’t lived anywhere else.” She snuck a sideways glance, studying his profile.

Antony. The name suited him perfectly. Anything that resembled a Greek hero or mythological hunk would do; he could have easily been Perseus or Hercules. His hair was slightly curly today, not straight like it had been the last time she’d seen him, flattened out from his ball cap.

He turned to her and she glanced away, pretending not to be looking at him. “Ah, a city girl,” he said.

There was something in his voice that made her smile. When she peeked another glance, he was still staring at her. The blush grew under her scarf.

They came to a red light. Maxine spied a gourmet

food truck, Hot N’ Spicy, Tacomania. “Have you ever eaten from there?” she asked. “It’s really good. One of my favorites, actually.”

She said it mostly because she couldn’t think of any else to ask him. She’d gone down her list of usual questions when she met someone new—although someone new who made you orgasm two nights ago, was a new kind of stranger for Maxine.

He’d told her he was from Rimouski, a small town about five hours east of Montreal, his family still lived there except for his brother who lived close by. He co- owned the ACE towing business—which of course explained the nice car and expensive watch. But most important, he was most definitely single.

Her imagination had started to wander while he spoke his broken, extremely sexy half-English, half- French sentences to her. She kept staring at his mouth, remembering how his lips felt. She wanted to feel those lips again…all over.

“No,” he replied. “Are you hungry for something”—he squinted at the lettering on the truck— “hot n’ spicy?”

Maxine managed to keep a straight face.

While she stayed in the car, he picked up two specials for them and then drove closer to the downtown core, parking off Yonge Street. With the paper bag containing their lunch tucked under his arm, he led her to the wrought iron gates of the Alexander Muir public gardens. They walked down the windy pathway lined with snow-laden trees until they reached the stone castle like structure at the heart of the park. She’d been to this park before, but never had it seemed so fairy tale like to her.

They climbed the stone staircase and entered an intimate walled in area, open to the sky, but close in enough to shield them from the wind. He set the bag down on a bench in the middle of the area. “Ah,” he said, the French accent making every syllable sexy. “Perfect picnic spot.”

Maxine joined him, marveling at how her day had turned around. Only this morning she was sitting on the antique settee with Carmine sipping a gin fizz thinking she was the female equivalent of Eeyore.

Carmine had a way of smoothing everything out, making sense of the disasters in the world, plus he was non-judgmental. Maxine couldn’t imagine telling her brother or even her sisters for that matter about her one night stand who appeared to be sleeping with several women.

Crosby would talk dreamily about destiny and true love, while Rose would lecture her, spouting off the latest stats from the sex crimes division. Westley would simply die of embarrassment.

“I feel so horrible,” Maxine had told Carmine. “I should have kept the phone on and confronted him right away. I’m such a coward.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong, honey. You were only following your instincts. Go home, charge his cell phone, and answer the first person who calls.”

“And then what?” “Spill the beans.”

“And what if he’s innocent?” she’d asked hopefully.

He gave her his signature smirk. “Then take full advantage of his amazing erection.”

By the time Maxine reached her apartment it was close to noon. She went directly to her bedroom and plugged in his cell phone with her charger. It was only five minutes later that there was a knock on the door. She looked through the peephole and saw someone with flowers.

Fast forward and she’s watching while Antony unwrapped the large paper bag, smelling of melted cheese and peppers.

Maxine took smallish bites of her burrito, trying desperately not to get any on her coat. The kick of the hot peppers sent a buzz over her skin. Still, she managed to finish first.

Antony had two bites in before he started sweating. “That’s spicy!” He took a few breaths then let out a low whistle. “Maxine,” he said, getting ready to take another bite. “You will be death of me.”

Even though he was clearly minding the jalapenos, he’d managed to finish. He used his napkin and smiled at her. “The flower,” he said, motioning to the silk comb in her hair that Carmine had given her. “It’s very much beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Maxine loved how his words sounded mixed up, shortened, it made him seem less intimidating, more like a regular guy, not this chiseled stud who for some reason liked her enough to bring her flowers and take her out.

Her hands were folded over her white coat. Underneath she was wearing the herringbone skirt. Carmine had been right. It was a good fit; she was able to leave her spandex girdle at home. The thought made her pulse speed up.

“Different color today,” he said, motioning to her dark pink fingernails.

She laughed, shocked he noticed the small detail. “I love doing my nails.” His smile faltered, and she imagined her neck going blotchy under her scarf. She must sound like an idiot. “I mean it’s kind of therapeutic.”

Yup, definitely stupid.

“I pick a color and I think it can sometimes change my mood.” She groaned inside. Why was she talking about nail polish? “And the names are unique, sort of like a horoscope. Almost a premonition, I suppose.”

A few soft snowflakes began to fall around them, lazily spiraling to the stone floor. It was so quiet, but the stillness of the moment made things more uncomfortable. Maxine wished there was something distracting to look at, something she could comment on instead of blabbing about nail polish like a moron.

Why couldn’t she tell him about her cosmetic boutique idea? A hopeful entrepreneur was better than someone who used nail polish names to determine her choices for the day.

Maxine was murdering this date. Instead of Dynasty, she was the awkward guest star on Facts of Life. In today’s episode, Maxine learns about rejection.

Then he said, “So nail polish is like fortune cookie?”

The lightness of his tone made her smile. “Exactly,” she said, turning back to him. He was leaning closer now, his eyes an impossible rich brown, hypnotizing her. A swell of heat bloomed inside Maxine.

Antony’s mouth quirked into a grin. “And what’s the name of this color?” he asked.

When she’d picked the pink color this morning, she was still thinking about Antony and his cell phone contacts, never imagining they’d be sharing burritos in the park. “It’s called, Second Chance.”

A snowflake landed on her eyelash, making everything hazy. She blinked it away.

“Second chance?” He balled up his napkin, then leaned across and took her garbage as well. “I like it. Sounds hopeful, oui?”

Yes, she thought, but the word was trapped in her throat. Maxine’s chest tightened as his arm brushed across her. The closeness of him was intoxicating. She waited for him to say it was time to go back to the car, and he’d drop her off at her apartment with a, so long, good buddy. The scene would end with her and Mrs. Garrett sharing hot chocolate in the kitchen talking about how there were more fish in the ocean…or maybe the one that got away might still come back.

There was a crinkle of paper bag and then he said, “We both have spicy breath now.”

She didn’t imagine the flirtatious tone in his voice. The pulse of warmth that had been building up inside of Maxine quickened.

“You have bit of sauce,” he said, pointing to the corner of her mouth. Then, before she could die of embarrassment, he leaned in, kissing the spot.