Page 48 of An Irresistible Force (Vancouver Vice)

“At first, I thought he was a dumb jock. But lately, he’s been working really hard. There’s a lot more to him than you see on the surface.” I hesitated and then finished. “Well, that’s what I assume anyway. He’s got this way of behaving—he’s completely smooth in public but I wonder what he’s really like underneath.”

Cynthia nodded. “He seems flirtatious. That’s the impression I got from him at the game anyway.”

“Oh, that’s for sure. Flirting comes as naturally as breathing to him. But it’s never really offensive. I’m not sure if that’s because he’s that way with everyone or because you can tell that he doesn’t really mean it. I have no idea what he’d act like if he really liked someone.” I had thought way too much about this subject, imagining how incredible it would be to have Chris’s full attention.

“So, you don’t think he really likes you?”

I shook my head. “No. I’m positive. He likes to tease me, but when he asked me to go to the gala, it was so casual.” I could tell it didn’t mean that much to him, but I was still happy to go. It would be a fun evening.

“Still, I think you underestimate yourself. Why wouldn’t he like you? You come from one of the best families in the city. If anything, he’s not good enough for you.” She frowned.

“Cyn, it’s not always about money.”

“I know that he has money. James explained about hockey contracts, and Chris is set for life. Unless he’s gambled it all away or something.” Cynthia’s innate pessimism had surfaced.

She shut one eye and frowned. “Still, think about it from the public point of view. Everyone understands that he’s ready to settle down now that he’s retired. People would be disappointed if he married some twenty-year-old bimbo, unless she was a celebrity. And if you married some hot young stud, everyone would think he wanted your money. But if you married each other, it would be perfect. He’s the hot sexy athlete, and you’re the cool society woman. There’s obviously sexual attraction, but you’re equals—both rich and attractive. Everyone would approve.”

“Good Lord, Cyn. I’m not a society woman. And you get to the marriage stage faster than my mother.”

“Well, you are at an age where you need to think seriously about settling down.” She unconsciously twirled her wedding ring.

“Okay,Mom.Look, before you book the church, let’s talk clothing. I need a new dress for the gala.”

She sucked in her breath. “Amanda! It’s less than two weeks away. You haven’t bought a dress yet? All the really good ones are long gone. Although, I did see something at Holt’s last week that might do—a white pleated column gown.”

My spirits sank. I looked innocent enough without decking myself out like a vestal virgin. For once, I wanted to look a little sexier. I bet that Josephine would wear a tuxedo to a gala with slicked-back hair, red lipstick, and no shirt. “Do you have a stylist that I could go shopping with?”

“Of course I do, but Millicent is very much in demand. I doubt you’d be able to get her in time….” She tapped a finger on her lips as she went through her mental list of second-tier stylists. But even a lousy stylist would be ten times better than the octogenarian Estelle or me on my own. “Hmmmm, I have an idea. There was this woman who helped us with a charity fashion show last month. She’s a former stylist, and she was complaining that she had too much free time. She’s pregnant, and she can’t fly for her regular job. Anyway, I can’t guarantee she’ll be good, but she looked fabulous and she was very organized.”

“Ifyouthink she’s organized, she must be a veritable Marie Kondo,” I said.

Cynthia got out her phone and passed the contact info to me. “Message her immediately,” she commanded. “And don’t forget, the point of using a stylist is to listen to her.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the way you dress. You need a stylist badly. Get her to do over your whole wardrobe while she’s at it. When’s the last time you cleaned out your closet?”

“Ummm.” I took a bite of cookie to avoid answering this. It wasn’t like Cynthia had even seen my bedroom, which admittedly had a bad case of arrested development.

“Amanda, you’re good at so many things. But at school, we wore uniforms, and then you began wearing vintage and those dreadful wrinkly cotton dresses.” She peered under my jacket. “And that workout top is ancient. You’re a grown up now, so you need to dress like one.”

“I wear suits at work,” I said defensively. “And you’re sounding like my mother again.”

“Maybe your mother is right. Did that ever occur to you? You should listen to her.” And suddenly Cynthia’s expression went slack. I realized she was thinking of her own late mother. I pressed my hand on top of hers.

“Okay, I’ll try. And of course you sound like a mother, because you are one. A very caring one.”

Cynthia smiled. “Tell my family that, will you?” She took a sip of tea and then giggled. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Um, seems doubtful.” One of the reasons I liked Cynthia was that we were so unalike. I could always count on her for a completely different point of view.

“This sounds so high school, but don’t you think that Chris in a tuxedo will be hot?”

Okay, maybe not that different. That was one of the first things I had imagined. Right after how he would look with no tuxedo at all.

21

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