Tall, Tanned & Texan

The redheaded woman didn’t seem the least put out. “Actually, he’s a billionaire. And he’s handsome. And a good dancer. And a great bingo player. Not that any of that means anything. Why, I’ve known handsome, bingo-playing, tangoing billionaires before, but none of them knew how to appreciate the real me. The personality beneath the decorative package.” She patted her hairdo with a bony hand. “Mavoreen Rosenbaum does have a brain, too. Unfortunately, men are simple creatures much too caught up in their hormones to understand that.”

At that moment, a man bolted through the doorway and started down the aisle. He wore a three-piece suit and a haggard expression. He rushed past Deanie’s aisle, only to stop and retrace his steps until he stood next to Mavoreen Rosenbaum. He pointed his briefcase at the empty seat beside her. “I’m sitting there.”

“Of course you are,” she told him. “What can I say?” Mavoreen shook her head. “I guess we all have our crosses to bear.” She turned to let the man scoot past her. “I’ll expect you to keep your hands to yourself,” she told him as he settled in. “And your legs. And all other body parts. And don’t even think about staring at me, sonny, because I’ve got a stun gun in my purse and I know how to use it…”

“If she’s got a decorative package, I’m Shrek,” the blonde murmured.

As far out as the notion seemed, Deanie couldn’t help but admire the older woman. “At least she’s confident.”

“She’s delusional. There is no billionaire. It’s just a story she makes up so she doesn’t have to look like a lonely desperate woman, which is what she is.” The blonde smiled. “But enough with the small stuff. I’m Savannah Sierra Ellington.”

“Nadine. Nadine Codge. But you can call me Deanie.”

The woman’s smile widened and she winked. “Thank the good Lord for flight delays and nicknames.”

Before they could exchange any more pleasantries, the flight attendant’s voice carried over the loud speaker.

Deanie shifted her attention to the woman wearing the white blouse trimmed in turquoise piping and khaki slacks, and did her best not to grimace.

A reaction that had nothing to do with the fact that she was on an airplane for the first time in her life. Or that it just so happened to be Friday the thirteenth. No it was the cupid cutouts and heart streamers that decorated the front of the plane in honor of tomorrow.

V-Day.

The worst day of any single girl’s life.

The flight attendant wore a flashing neon heart pin. A red scarf dotted with red lips circled her neck. To top off her tribute to the big L, she sported a headband with a pair of red glitter hearts attached via long, tentacle-looking wires. The hearts bobbed with her every movement.

“…a little delay, but while we’re waiting for the tower to give the go-ahead for takeoff, we’ll start our in-flight service by taking drink orders.” She started down the aisle, pen and paper in hand. In her wake, another flight attendant carried a large red bag filled with packages of pretzels. She passed out the goodies and carefully eyeballed everyone’s seat belt.

“Welcome to Island Airways where love is always in the air,” the flight attendant with the pretzels told them after her partner had taken their drink orders.

“This is too much,” Savannah Ellington exclaimed when the attendants had moved to the next row.

“You said it.” Even the pretzel bags were red with tiny silver hearts. Deanie fought back the memory that pushed its way into her head… Of a hopeful young girl, a shoe box full of homemade sugar cookies and the most handsome boy in the seventh grade.

She’d been so silly back then and Mr. Handsome hadn’t been the least bit interested. Not that she’d taken the hint. She’d made more sugar cookies the next year and the next, and the only thing he’d ever given her in return had been a thank-you and a grin.

Ah, but that grin had been worth the entire day spent in the kitchen and her brothers’ teasing.

At least that’s what she’d thought back then. But then she’d wised up.

Sure, you did. After you made an even bigger fool of yourself.

“I’m definitely going to complain to the higher ups,” Savannah said. “This just isn’t right.”

“I know. It’s not like it’s a major holiday. We’re not talking Christmas, for Pete’s sake. It’s just Valentine’s Day.”

“I wasn’t talking about Valentine’s Day.” Savannah held up the red foil bag. “ One serving? Talk about chintzy. Forget dancing the night away once I get to Escapades. I’ll be too weak from lack of proper nutrition.” She dropped the bag into her lap and unlatched her purse. A little digging and she withdrew a candy bar. “Thank God I think ahead.” She tore the wrapper, broke a piece of candy off and popped it into her mouth. Her expression eased as she savored the mouthful before holding the bar out to Deanie. “Want some?”

Deanie shook her head.

Savannah gave her a knowing look. “It figures.”

“What?”

“If you hate Valentine’s Day, you’re bound to hate candy, too. And flowers. And jewelry.”

“I don’t hate Valentine’s Day. I just think it’s a little overdone.” And depressing. “People shouldn’t have to buy candy or flowers or jewelry to prove their love.”

“Says you.” She ate another piece of candy and eyed Deanie. “You don’t have a boyfriend, do you?”

“Not exactly.”

“Not exactly no, or not exactly yes?”

Deanie swallowed. “We broke up.”

Savannah studied her a few more seconds before winking. “Don’t sweat it. There are plenty more where he came from. Real ones,” she added, nodding toward Mavoreen’s beehive that bobbed above the seat in front of her. “And trust me, the more the merrier. That way when one’s busy in Atlanta with a buyout for his precious company, you don’t have to sit around feeling sorry for yourself. You just hop a plane to a tropical paradise and party the night away with boyfriend number two. And number three. And number four. It’s all about having a back-up plan.”

For the lucky few like Savannah Sierra Ellington with her feminine clothes and her breathy voice. She practically oozed sex appeal. It made sense that she would snag more than one man’s attention.

Deanie, on the other hand, wasn’t as concerned with snagging every man’s attention as she was with keeping one man’s attention.

The man.

And so she intended to be ready when he happened along.

If he happened along.

“I shouldn’t have had that extra glass of wine in the airport lounge. I think I’ll head to the ladies’ room before we takeoff.” Savannah tucked the remainder of her candy bar into her purse, popped open her seat belt, pushed to her feet and sashayed the few feet to the lavatory at the front of the plane.

Deanie glanced at her watch again. Anxiety rushed through her, chasing away the excitement. They really needed to get going. The last thing she wanted was to be late.

Camp E.D.E.N. ran a tight ship. There would be no lounging around the pool or writing post cards. Her training would start immediately after check-in with the first workshop—Shedding Your Inhibitions. There would be a thirty minute dinner break and then it was back to work with three more workshops before curfew and lights out. The strict regimen went hand-in-hand with the camp’s no-nonsense image. Camp E.D.E.N. was for the serious, self-improvement-minded individual, not the fun-seeking sort. At least that’s what the Web site and its page of testimonials claimed.

Her toes whimpered and she eased her feet out of her shoes just enough to allow some breathing room. She shifted and tried for a more comfortable position. The seat was more narrow than she’d initially thought, her legs a lot more cramped. Jet-setting to a tropical getaway wasn’t at all as glamorous as she’d imagined.

It felt more like being cooped up in the last row of a school bus with the other equipment assistants—all three of them, Deanie included—while the football players rode up front.

Then again, this wasn’t high school.

This was her life.

The new and improved version.

“This is a good day.” She murmured the words her grandmother had recited to her every morning during her summer visits before the old woman had passed away.

A great day.