It Happened in L.A.: Ms Match / Shockingly Sensual / Playmates. Lori Wilde

       Chapter 8

      PAUL GLANCED AT his dashboard clock, then at the traffic he was stuck in, wondering whether he should turn around and go home.

      For a Monday, his day had gone well. In fact, it was the antithesis of last week. He’d gotten a prime gig for one of his sports clients, saved the internationally famous ass of one of his celeb clients and he’d had a phone call from his mother in Florida where they were actually pleasant to each other.

      After work he’d gone to the gym. As he’d hit the showers he realized he didn’t want to go home and he didn’t want to go to a club. He wanted to play baseball trivia. With Gwen. If he could win twice…

      They’d had a good time yesterday at the ballpark. And her friends hadn’t seemed to mind him crashing last week. If he didn’t get all high school about it, no one would think a thing. Besides, he had that gift for Gwen’s friend.

      He moved another foot, then another, and for a few minutes there it looked as if he might make it in time to chat before the trivia began. But it being L. A. and it being a day ending in Y, traffic bogged down yet again.

      He put on the radio, to the newest station on his rotation, National Public Radio. It had surprised him, how he’d gotten caught up in so many discussions that had nothing to do with the business. Tonight they were talking about happiness. A professor from Harvard had written a book on the subject. The program turned out to be interesting and if it hadn’t been so late when he got to Bats and Balls, he’d have listened to the end.

      Instead, after grabbing his baseball cap from the backseat, he headed inside, optimistic that this decision had been a good one.

      His gaze went straight to her table. There she was. Gwen hadn’t noticed him yet. She was busy talking to Holly. From the excitement on Gwen’s face, he was pretty sure she had her copy of Sunday’s program laid out on the table. He wondered if she’d laminated every page yet.

      Ah. He’d been spotted. Gwen’s head moved up, her eyes locked on to his. For a split second, there was hesitation there, an almost wince, then it was gone. Holly waved him on as she scooted over to an empty seat at the table.

      “I told her you’d be here. I even got you a machine, see?”

      Holly held it up, a symbol of good faith.

      “Thank you.” He sat down, squeezing between the two women. “I had to see if I could do it again.”

      “I wouldn’t count on it, big guy,” Gwen said. “You got lucky last week.”

      “If I were a gentleman, I’d agree with you. But the hell with that. I trounced your ass.”

      Gwen’s eyes narrowed, but she had trouble maintaining the scowl. “I’ll let that go, but only because you introduced me to Saito.”

      “Phew.” He looked around for the waitress, but he’d have to wait.

      “God, Paul, Gwen hasn’t shut up about yesterday.” Holly looked different from last Monday. Ah. Makeup. Mostly around her eyes. And her curly blond hair was pinned up. She must have come right from work. Her blouse and skirt were a bit too dressy for Bats and Balls. “I swear she was stopping complete strangers on the street and telling them how she met her fabulous Dodgers.” Holly gave him a very dramatic eye roll. “I mean, really. If it had been Brad Pitt, that would be a whole different story.”

      “Oh, then you probably don’t want this.” He put the baseball cap on the table making sure Holly saw Garciaparra’s signature.

      “Are you kidding me?” She looked from the hat to him, then back to the hat. “This is for me?”

      He turned the cap slightly so she could see where it said, “To Holly.”

      She burst into a ferocious grin, grabbed the hat then leaned over and gave him a big kiss on the cheek.

      “You’re welcome.”

      She leaned past him. “Gwen, did you see?”

      Paul turned to her. He hoped for…he wasn’t sure what, but the look Gwen gave him came damn close. Huh. She must have come right from work, too. She was in pants and blouse, very feminine and nice. Like Holly, she’d done something different with her makeup. Subtle, but well-done. She looked prettier. Had her hair always been that soft blond?

      Gwen eyed the baseball cap. “I didn’t know you’d gotten that. I, on the other hand, was a complete selfish bitch who thought of no one but myself.”

      “You weren’t supposed to think of anything else. That was my job.”

      She didn’t respond. Simply looked at him for a long while, but he had the feeling there was something important going on inside that brain of hers.

      “Anyway,” he said when he felt heat creep up his neck. “Where is that waitress? I’m dying for a Heinie.”

      Gwen laughed out loud. “Knowing this waitress, I’m pretty sure you can get it.”

      “Heineken. Heineken. Jeez, make one little slip of the tongue—”

      “I repeat, knowing this waitress…”

      Everyone at the table found that one particularly hilarious, which made Paul wonder about this waitress. When he looked back at Gwen, her smile had faded but her interest in him hadn’t. It was as if she was seeing him now for the first time. Either that, or he had something weird on his face. “Is everything all right?”

      She nodded.

      “You keep staring at me.”

      “Sorry. I keep wondering about you. It’s odd to me that you’re here.”

      “I can leave.”

      “No. I’m glad you’re here.”

      He rolled his eyes a bit. “I’m overwhelmed.”

      “Stop. I had the best time yesterday. I should have said that first thing. It was a spectacular day.”

      “It was pretty great. We’ll have to do it again, sometime.”

      She looked down, then past him. Her arm went up to call the infamous waitress, who came over. The woman had enormous breasts. She’d probably tried out for Hooters but the T-shirts wouldn’t stretch enough. He’d actually never seen breasts that large in real life.

      “Hey, gorgeous,” she said, her voice kind of scratchy, as if she’d just come back from her cigarette break. “I sure haven’t seen you here before.”

      Now that he was looking at her face, he saw she was older, maybe early forties. “Heineken for me. And refill the table.”

      The waitress, Carla according to her name tag, winked at him, leaving a tiny smudge of mascara on her cheek. “A hunk and generous. Ain’t that a pisser.” She walked off with a sashay that Autumn would have envied.

      “Game’s gonna start in a few minutes, Newbie,” Gwen said. “Better get ready.”

      “I’m always ready.”