take care of the little one . . . or help with meals or laundry and all that stuff.” Quinn pointed a finger at J.M. “If you’re not in that relationship, it’s because you don’t want to be.”
Kara took a sip of her wine as Grace placed her order for the daily special, which was a salad with mandarin oranges followed by fillet of sole almandine. Kara ordered the goat cheese chicken wrap with a side salad.
“I’m surprised I haven’t heard from Jeremy yet. Do you know what time it is?” Grace asked.
“No, I don’t have a watch.”
Grace pulled her cell phone out of her purse and flipped it open.
“I missed a text. Probably Jeremy.” She tapped at the phone. “Darn. He’s at another restaurant with a friend and asked me to join him.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” Kara said. “We can cancel our orders and just pay for our drinks. Don’t worry about me.”
“Of course not. I’ll just tell him we’ll make it another day. He’ll probably want to catch up with his friend anyway.” Grace tapped at her phone. “Unfortunately, that means you won’t get a chance to talk to him before your interview after all.” She closed her phone and put it back in her purse. “I could arrange to get you both together for dinner tomorrow.”
“That’ll be too late. I interview him tomorrow after his workshop.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.” Grace smiled. “I could ask him and his friend to join us for drinks later. I really think the two of you might hit it off. Then you won’t be left in your room with just that little vibrator for company.”
“Grace, that’s really nice of you, but I’m not really interested in getting to know someone who teaches . . . I don’t know . . . airy-fairy sexual techniques.”
“Really? You shouldn’t knock it unless you’ve tried it.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “And word on the street is that Jeremy is the best.”
I’m sure J.M. could give this guy a run for his money.
As sorrow sliced through her at the thought she’d never see him again, she realized she’d done the only sensible thing by ending it quickly and cleanly.
“If you’re not interested in Tantra, why are you interviewing Jeremy?” asked Grace.
“My editor set up the interview. I . . . write a column on sex for Urban Woman magazine.” At the nagging tension about her job, her stomach coiled into a knot.
Grace sipped her wine and watched Kara.
“Obviously, you’re not happy about that.”
“Not really. Not just because she gave me an assignment I’m not thrilled with—that’s part of the job—but because . . . I’m afraid she thinks my column is getting stale. There are a lot of people who would love to have a column in this magazine. People with amazing writing credits . . . , with great ideas.”
“But sex sells. And you’re good at what you do, right?”
“Uh . . . sure. I guess.”
“Well, there’s your problem right there. You need to believe in yourself.”
J.M. returned Quinn’s stare.
“Well, it’s true I didn’t want to be the outsider. The third wheel.”
Quinn nodded. “You want a woman of your own. I can understand that.”
“And what about you?” J.M. asked. “What are you up to these days?”
“Actually, I was hoping to pick your brain for a project I’m doing.”
J.M.’s brow furrowed. “And what is that?”
“I’m writing another book. Kama Sutra for Three. ”
“You’re kidding? Hasn’t that been done?”
“No.” He thudded his hand on the table in emphasis. “I was surprised, too. There are all kinds of Kama Sutra books out there, from versions for two men to Kama Sutra for cats, but nothing for threesomes.”
“Leave it to you to find a niche market like that.”
“You bet. And the research is bound to be a blast. If you can hook me up in a threesome, I’d be eternally grateful.”
“There is this one woman, actually—Hanna’s sister. She’s here at the
Kara took a sip of her wine as Grace placed her order for the daily special, which was a salad with mandarin oranges followed by fillet of sole almandine. Kara ordered the goat cheese chicken wrap with a side salad.
“I’m surprised I haven’t heard from Jeremy yet. Do you know what time it is?” Grace asked.
“No, I don’t have a watch.”
Grace pulled her cell phone out of her purse and flipped it open.
“I missed a text. Probably Jeremy.” She tapped at the phone. “Darn. He’s at another restaurant with a friend and asked me to join him.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” Kara said. “We can cancel our orders and just pay for our drinks. Don’t worry about me.”
“Of course not. I’ll just tell him we’ll make it another day. He’ll probably want to catch up with his friend anyway.” Grace tapped at her phone. “Unfortunately, that means you won’t get a chance to talk to him before your interview after all.” She closed her phone and put it back in her purse. “I could arrange to get you both together for dinner tomorrow.”
“That’ll be too late. I interview him tomorrow after his workshop.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.” Grace smiled. “I could ask him and his friend to join us for drinks later. I really think the two of you might hit it off. Then you won’t be left in your room with just that little vibrator for company.”
“Grace, that’s really nice of you, but I’m not really interested in getting to know someone who teaches . . . I don’t know . . . airy-fairy sexual techniques.”
“Really? You shouldn’t knock it unless you’ve tried it.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “And word on the street is that Jeremy is the best.”
I’m sure J.M. could give this guy a run for his money.
As sorrow sliced through her at the thought she’d never see him again, she realized she’d done the only sensible thing by ending it quickly and cleanly.
“If you’re not interested in Tantra, why are you interviewing Jeremy?” asked Grace.
“My editor set up the interview. I . . . write a column on sex for Urban Woman magazine.” At the nagging tension about her job, her stomach coiled into a knot.
Grace sipped her wine and watched Kara.
“Obviously, you’re not happy about that.”
“Not really. Not just because she gave me an assignment I’m not thrilled with—that’s part of the job—but because . . . I’m afraid she thinks my column is getting stale. There are a lot of people who would love to have a column in this magazine. People with amazing writing credits . . . , with great ideas.”
“But sex sells. And you’re good at what you do, right?”
“Uh . . . sure. I guess.”
“Well, there’s your problem right there. You need to believe in yourself.”
J.M. returned Quinn’s stare.
“Well, it’s true I didn’t want to be the outsider. The third wheel.”
Quinn nodded. “You want a woman of your own. I can understand that.”
“And what about you?” J.M. asked. “What are you up to these days?”
“Actually, I was hoping to pick your brain for a project I’m doing.”
J.M.’s brow furrowed. “And what is that?”
“I’m writing another book. Kama Sutra for Three. ”
“You’re kidding? Hasn’t that been done?”
“No.” He thudded his hand on the table in emphasis. “I was surprised, too. There are all kinds of Kama Sutra books out there, from versions for two men to Kama Sutra for cats, but nothing for threesomes.”
“Leave it to you to find a niche market like that.”
“You bet. And the research is bound to be a blast. If you can hook me up in a threesome, I’d be eternally grateful.”
“There is this one woman, actually—Hanna’s sister. She’s here at the
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