“You’d be very wrong about that.” Maya scoffed. “Men my age aren’t necessarily looking for a woman in their own age bracket.”
“In that case, men your age are all totally and utterly nuts, not to mention blind!”
“You would say that, with your proclivities.” Maya’s lips bloomed into a smile.
“Fair enough and yes, I would. On top of that, I would say it loudly and proudly.”
“Men my age are much more interested in someone like you than they are in someone like me,” Maya mused. “Young, blond, taut skin, girlish grin. The works.”
Quinn knew Maya was right. She’d been tending bar long enough to know what the average man liked. “What about Mr. Mercer?”
“Drew did not follow the stereotypical middle-aged divorced man’s path,” Maya said. “His new partner is even a year older than he is. Imagine that. An entire year!”
“Wow.”
“Not that he deserves a pat on the back for that,” Maya said. “That would be setting the bar very low for middle-aged men in general.”
“You haven’t been on any dates in the past five years?” Quinn found that hard to believe, despite her own preferences, which she was overly aware of as this conversation progressed.
“I have, but it’s all been so… unmemorable.”
Quinn swallowed what she was about to say next—that maybe Maya had been dating people of the wrong gender. It wasn’t a claim that was hers to make. And it might end the evening abruptly, which was a risk she didn’t want to take. She was enjoying this pool-side chat with Maya too much to take too great a risk, at least for now.
“If I’m being perfectly honest, dating hasn’t really been a priority. I’ve been so busy with the studio and making sure Tommy was okay after the divorce.”
Quinn intuited it was one of those moments when her best contribution to the conversation was a prolonged silence.
“Now Tommy’s all grown up,” Maya continued. “So my priorities might change.” She fell silent. The rattling of the ice cubes in their glasses was the only sound. “You weren’t kidding when you said you make a mean cocktail.”
“When you work for tips, it pays to be really good at what you do.”
“Where are you moving to when you leave here?” Maya asked.
“Into a friend’s place in Greenpoint. Her roommate’s leaving at the end of the month. It’s not too far from the bar, so it should all work out well in the end.” Quinn didn’t mention that without a monthly check from her parents, she wouldn’t even be able to afford the tiny room in Andy’s shabby apartment.
“I’m sure you’ll find your feet, Quinn. You have that air about you. Like everything will be all right, no matter what.”
“We’ll see.” Quinn drained the last of her cocktail. “Another?” It was Saturday evening and neither one of them had anywhere else to be.
“Let me prepare some dinner first.” Maya peered at the remaining liquid in her glass, as though it would allow her to determine exactly how strong it was by doing so. “I may not make it into the kitchen after another one of these.”
“Can I help? I chop a mean veg.”
“Is that a euphemism?” Maya asked.
Quinn burst out laughing. “Absolutely not.”
Maya sat there grinning broadly. “Why don’t you have another swim. I won’t be long. I’m just making a salad. It’s too hot for anything substantial.”
“I brought a bottle of white wine,” Quinn said. “It’s in the fridge.”
“Filling my fridge with alcohol.” Maya rose. “You’d better have only good intentions.” She shot Quinn a quick wink and disappeared into the house.
Quinn took off her clothes and jumped into the pool. She hadn’t minded that her parents had gone away for the weekend, leaving her alone for a few days. But she hadn’t expected to be splashing about in the neighbor’s pool at this time of the day, with a light cocktail buzz going on and the prospect of an evening of flirty conversation still ahead of her.
Chapter 5
Maya watched Quinn collect their plates as though this was her own house. She had that air about her that made her look at home. A quiet confidence that, at that age, Maya had only possessed when she stepped out onto the dance floor. For that reason, she told herself, she enjoyed watching Quinn’s elegant, easy movement around the table. The gentle swell of her upper arms. The soft shine of her skin. Yes, that was what Quinn Hathaway was: a joy to behold and a joy to be around. Especially during this emotionally trying weekend for Maya. Quinn had succeeded in taking her mind off Tommy as though it had been her job to do so.
Maya followed Quinn with her eyes as she disappeared into the house. In the half-light of the evening, she could see her rinsing the plates in the sink. Quinn’s lack of hesitation had something inspirational about it. Maya could twist or turn it any way she wanted, but Tommy leaving home had ushered in the next act of her life. Maybe she should approach it with some of that confidence that Quinn exuded.
“Can I make you another drink?” Quinn shouted from the kitchen.
“Let’s finish the wine.” Maya reached for her glass. She knew Bill kept some excellent bottles in his basement. She wondered what he would think when he returned from his weekend away and found a few of them missing.
It had startled her earlier when he had called Quinn. It had reminded her of who Quinn actually was, which was easy to forget when she and Quinn were together. That was the other thing about Quinn: she was easy to talk to, easy to be around, easy to watch. Earlier, when she’d been preparing dinner, Maya had eyed her through the kitchen window. The way she’d tipped her head back and slicked her hands through her wet hair had made
