With His Touch. Dawn Atkins
She’d concluded he was kind of a tight ass, but forgave him because he’d been a dependable friend. “And when we started the resort, we talked it out, right?” she added.
“Right.”
“So this is just chemistry?” she asked weakly. More like the Fourth of July, nuclear fission and an exploding comet all rolled into one.
“Chemistry?” He wasn’t buying that, either.
“The important thing is our partnership. And we’re friends. Don’t forget that.”
“Couldn’t forget that.” He sighed and squeezed their fingers together. “Maybe if we’re good at being partners and friends, we could be good at…more.”
“It was that water bed!” she blurted. “I mean, shaking and bumping and rocking like that.”
He shook his head.
“I guess not.”
“I think it’s always been there. For me.” He leveled his gaze at her. “I just blocked it.”
This isn’t fair, she wanted to whine. They’d figured this all out. They knew what mattered. How could a giant quivering mattress full of water make them forget?
She had to get them back on track. “We’re so different, Gage.” That’s what she told herself whenever she had hot thoughts about him. She liked variety, action, late nights. He was Mr. Same Old, Mr. Rut, Mr. Early To Bed, Early To Rise. Probably predictable in bed, too—all missionary, all the time.
“We can work that out….” The tiny hesitation in his voice told her she’d made some headway, so she kept going.
“I don’t do permanent, remember?” Gage was the kind of guy who got married for good. In fact, she was surprised he wasn’t already ringed up.
His eyes held hers. With me you could.
She knew better. She’d let a couple of guys get serious on her. They’d wanted to spend every minute with her until she felt smothered. The breakups were dreadful. She’d felt as though she’d led them on. She’d been in love with love—the guys, too, no doubt—and she’d vowed to never put anyone through that again. She was just better off sticking with short-term sex.
Plenty of women were built like her, though many refused to accept it, got married and made themselves—and their husbands—miserable when it fell apart.
Sugar wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t. And certainly not with a man she cared as much about as Gage. “We don’t see relationships the same. Look at how we reacted to our parents’ divorces.” Gage thought his parents quit too soon, while she accepted her folks’ breakup without complaint. Relationships were dynamic systems that could fly apart. Especially for people like Sugar and her parents. It happened. No sense torturing yourself, your spouse or your family over it.
“That’s different,” Gage said. “Completely.”
“I’m not built like you, Gage.” People like Gage knew how to make love work. And when their relationships faltered, Spice It Up got them back on track. She loved being part of that effort. Somehow, that made up for her own lack. Not lack, exactly, but she did get an empty feeling from time to time.
Which she didn’t appreciate being reminded of.
Gage was looking at her with so much hope, she panicked. “I need change, Gage. New furniture, for God’s sake.” That was lame, but she was flipping out, almost getting sucked into Gage’s fantasy.
“We’re talking about couches now?”
“It’s just a symbol. I need variety. You want sameness. You’ve had those shoes since Clinton’s second term.”
“Hey, I had them resoled.” He studied them briefly, then looked at her. “What’s wrong with sticking with quality?”
“Nothing. It’s just not me. I’m cheap, disposable fashion. You’re solid, classic traditions.”
“This is you and me, Sugar, not Better Homes & Gardens. Pretend I didn’t blurt what I blurted. Try this—Hey, Sugar, how about we see what develops? Better?” He gave that self-mocking smile she loved so much.
“Not much, no.” The truth was out. And the fact that he’d behaved so out of character told her how big his feelings were. Shutting him down felt criminal, but what choice did she have? Her stomach joined her head in the churning washer.
“Let it sink in,” Gage said.
But there was no point and too much at stake. She had to sort this out. What would Gage do? That was her mantra when she got emotionally overwrought. Gage was so rational, so sensible. When he wasn’t around to argue her through something, she imagined what he’d say. Now she was using him against himself. But it couldn’t be helped.
“Let’s think this through,” she said. “Why is this happening now? You just broke up with Adrienne, right? So you’re lonely. You and I spend a lot of time together. We’re close friends. Plus, it’s a big birthday for both of us. Thirty-five is time to turn the corner. I know I’ve been thinking about shaking things up. But not…” She hesitated. “Not like that.”
“Shaking things up?” He frowned. “Like how?”
“By doing something different with the resort. I planned to talk to you about it at dinner, but—”
“No, no. Go on. Tell me now.” He folded his arms.
“Maybe later. When we get back home.”
“Let’s have it,” he said wearily. “What are you cooking up, Sugar?”
They needed a change of subject, that was certain. “Promise you’ll hear me out before you start arguing?”
“Go on.”
He hadn’t promised, but she went ahead anyway. “Okay…You know how we’ve been overbooked during busy months?”
“Yeah?”
“That’s revenue just disappearing. There’s growing interest in sex resorts. That’s obvious from this conference. Think of all the travel reviews we’ve had lately. The buzz is that we’ve got a gold mine on our hands. If we don’t get ahead of the curve, we’ll lose out.”
“What are you proposing?” He spoke slowly, considering the idea. Thank goodness. His analytical side had kicked in.
She felt safe to babble on. “At first, I thought we could buy a second location, but that’s capital-intensive and we’d be spread thin staff-wise. Then I read a big trade journal piece on hospitality franchises. The consultants in the article were based in San Diego, so I called them.”
“Franchising?” He lifted his eyes to hers. “You want to franchise Spice It Up?”
“Franchising is the way to go. I was talking to a guy earlier about it. Plus, it’s a cash cow, Gage, and—”
“And you met with consultants? Without talking to me first?”
She preferred Gage’s business bristle to the hurt from before. “It was just a preliminary discussion. No money changed hands. I wanted to tell you about it, share my other research and get your ideas about possible franchisees we could target. It’s all there.” She nodded at her briefcase on the table by the door, ready for her to carry to Gage’s room.
Back before she got dumped in a washer set on heavy-duty.
“A franchise is a package. Spice It Up is too unique to be packaged.” He shook his head. That’s that. A good sign. This was how all their debates started.
She barreled ahead. “I thought that, too, at first. Then I did some reading. There’s a book—Franchising For Dummies, can you believe that?—which has checklists and tips and screening tools. You have to check it out.” She nodded at her case again.
“What