Tame An Older Man

Phoebe sat up. 'You've read the book?'

'A few chapters. I thought, if I'm going to meet the author on national television, I ought to read her book. Besides, it was just sitting on your bookshelf.'

'What do you think so far?'

'Some of it makes sense, I guess. I know she's right about one thing.'

'What's that?'

'No man's going to love you if you don't love yourself.'

'I do love myself,' Phoebe groused.

'Me, too,' Olga said, without a lot of conviction. Phoebe suspected they shared the same problem, though. They might love themselves, but they were both very, very afraid the rest of the world wouldn't. So they hid. Olga played dumb and helpless; she played the vamp; she played the carefree widow. And Phoebe played to the blonde stereotype. She also played like she didn't want or need a man.

Nothing could have been farther from the truth.

* * *

Phoebe wasn't sure how she made it through work Monday. To be sure, Wyatt stayed out of her way. If he had anything to say to her, he sent Phyllis or one of the crew. But she was very, very aware of his whereabouts all day long. And every time she saw him, it felt like an ice pick in her heart.

By the time the show was over and she was packing up to leave, she felt sick to her stomach. And she never got sick.

She drove to the university but skipped her last two classes, almost unheard of for her. She would have to get a copy of the lecture notes from someone later. She didn't think she would be able to focus on anything tonight, anyway.

When she got home, she found Olga in the living room surrounded by several shopping bags from Phoenix's smarter department stores. She wore what had to be a new, fashionable shorts outfit and gold, high-heeled sandals.

'Addy! You're home early.'

'Not feeling too good,' she said, collapsing onto the couch.

'Well, of course not. You've just had a major tiff with your honey. But I've got the cure for that.'

Oh, no. Phoebe just raised her eyebrows expectantly.

'First, I bought us both sexy new bathing suits.' She whipped two scraps of shiny lame out of one of the bags.

Phoebe laughed. She couldn't help it, in the face of Olga's relentless good cheer. 'Mama, you must be kidding. I'm not wearing pink lame.'

'Then you can have the blue one.' She tossed the incredibly brief suit onto Phoebe's lap. 'We'll take a pitcher of margaritas down to the pool and catch a few rays. But first-'

She opened another bag and pulled out several bottles and tubes. 'Beauty treatments all the way around. I had this dream once that I'd come to Phoenix, and you'd get me into that ritzy spa you worked at for free.'

'Are you kidding? My former boss didn't give anyone a free ride.' But Phoebe was drawn to the beauty products despite herself. Just researching her future competition, she told herself. She opened up a popular brand of 'miraculous moisturizer' and sniffed it. 'Nothing but lanolin, lecithin, and maybe a bit of corn oil.'

Olga wrinkled her nose. 'You're kidding. I paid seventeen dollars for that jar.'

'I could whip it up in my kitchen for about ninety-eight cents.'

Olga seemed fascinated. 'What about this one?' She handed Phoebe a bottle of toner. Phoebe observed the color, then sniffed. 'Mostly alcohol, probably some witch hazel, stearyl ether and glycerin. And food coloring.'

Olga grinned. 'You're really learning something at that school of yours. Do these products even work?'

'Yeah, sure. But this one will dry out your skin,' she said, holding up the toner.

'Ewww. So what do you recommend?'

Phoebe grinned, suddenly feeling a bit better. If she'd known it would be this easy to impress her mother, she'd have done it a long time ago. 'Let me show you.'

Twenty minutes later they both had their faces covered with Phoebe's avocado, yogurt and honey mask, and Olga was doing Phoebe's nails in a hot pink. 'So what are you going to do about your producer sweetie?' Olga asked.

Phoebe sighed. 'Nothing.'

'Nothing! Are you sure you're my daughter? This is war, Addy. You've got to go on the offensive. Your first mission is to hang out by the pool in that swimsuit and completely ignore him.'

Phoebe knew her mother's advice flew in the face of everything Jane Jasmine recommended-honesty, maturity, and no game-playing. But she had to admit, a vengeful part of her wanted to make Wyatt suffer. Proving him wrong about his assumptions would be the best revenge. But since she couldn't run out and win a Nobel Prize, she had to resort to some other method of avenging her wounded pride.

Anyway, what had Jane Jasmine done for her lately? Hiding her light under a bushel had worked just fine. But the moment she was honest with Wyatt about her abilities, her intellect and her ambitions, all hell had broken loose.

'And what's my second mission?'

Olga smiled, cracking her drying mask. 'Make him jealous.'

'With whom?'

'Anybody who's younger, handsomer and richer than him.'

Phoebe didn't know anyone handsomer or richer. Younger, she could manage.

Well, why shouldn't she? she reasoned. Her heart was broken. She was entitled to behave like an idiot for at least one afternoon.

Phoebe blew on her nails to dry them. 'Okay, Mama, you've sold me. You make up the margaritas, while my nails dry. Then we'll hit the pool and have a party.'

Olga grinned, causing a big hunk of dried green glop to fall into her lap. 'You are my daughter.'

Twenty minutes later, Phoebe and Olga were parked in loungers by the pool, an ice chest between them containing a blender full of frozen margaritas. Normally Phoebe didn't sun herself. There was nothing that would age skin more rapidly than too much sun. But she couldn't exactly swim laps in the ridiculous blue lame suit. One false move and she could be arrested for indecent exposure.

A few others had joined them-Elise and James, Daisy, Frannie, and a young married couple from the second floor who'd just moved in.

'Phoebe, that's a… an interesting new suit you have there,' Daisy said quietly.

'My mother's idea. Don't mind me, I've gone completely around the bend.'

'Does this have something to do with Wyatt?' Daisy asked perceptively.

Phoebe felt herself blushing. 'I'm through with Wyatt. He thinks I'm a bimbo.'

'And you're trying to prove him right?' Daisy arched an eyebrow at her.

'I'm just having a little fun. Anyway, he'll never even see this,' Phoebe said, indicating the brief suit. 'He'll work until midnight, like always.'

'Wrong. I saw his car in the lot when I came home a while ago.'

Phoebe's stomach flipped. Well, she decided, he wouldn't have any reason to come down here or even look down here. His balcony was shrouded by the big palm trees, anyway.

'Addy.' Olga thumped Phoebe on the arm. 'I mean, Phoebe.' Olga struggled to use Phoebe's newer name when they were around others, mostly to avoid confusion. She lowered her voice to a whisper. 'There aren't any single guys here. How are you going to make Wyatt jealous?'

'Easy.' She nodded toward the far end of the pool, where Jeff was cleaning out one of the pool skimmers. He wore short cutoff jeans and a tank shirt, emphasizing his tan and his biceps.

'Oh, he's a cute one,' Olga said almost reverently. 'But not exactly rich, I'm guessing.'

'Young and cute is the best I can do on short notice.'

'So what are you waiting for? Go get him.'