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  Jessica laughed back and took another sip of wine. When, she wondered, was he going to make a move?

  He closed the album finally and sat back against the couch. “I had a really good time tonight.”

  Again, she smiled encouragingly. “I did, too.”

  “Maybe we can go out again next weekend,” he said. “Or have coffee again during the week, if you want. Or dinner.”

  It was cute, she thought, how he’d suddenly lost his suave powers of conversation. And yet Jessica could tell that he found her attractive. She could almost feel the sexual tension emanating from him as he sat there trying to think of something else to say.

  “You look really pretty tonight,” he came up with.

  “Thank you,” she said. Then, she was tired of waiting. It was time to take things to the next level.

  She put her hand on his shoulder and leaned forward, eyes half-closed. Quickly, he got the idea and scooted into a better position to kiss her. They kissed. Then they kissed again.

  It was nice, Jessica thought. Not exactly fireworks going off, but there were definitely some sparks there. They kissed some more. She slid her hand down onto his chest and felt him start a little before sliding his own hands down to her waist. She leaned back a little and they kissed some more.

  There was definitely potential here, she thought. And that was a good thing, because she couldn’t have a relationship with no chemistry. She maneuvered herself so that her breasts pressed against him, making him moan very low in the back of his throat. But she could tell he was holding back for some reason. Probably trying to be chivalrous. Or maybe, she thought sympathetically, he had only dated women who didn’t like sex very much. There were a lot of women like that, Jessica knew, although she definitely wasn’t one of them.

  He pulled back for a second to look at her face. His was clouded with passion. “Is this okay with you?” he asked. “What we’re doing?”

  She suppressed a giggle. “Yes. It’s very okay.” Pulling him back down to her, she kissed his neck, then took his hand and put it on her breast. He moaned and shifted against her so that she felt, for a split second against her hip, exactly how turned on he was.

  Well, she thought, now she knew for sure that he wasn’t gay and that he didn’t think she was too fat.

  Yet he still wasn’t going any further than kissing her. If this were Guillermo, she thought suddenly, they’d be naked by now.

  And without wanting to, she imagined that it was Guillermo here, kissing her on this expensive leather sofa. And she moaned aloud.

  And then she felt guilty and pulled away. Just a little, but it was enough to scare Jonathan all the way off her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I got carried away. I didn’t mean to take it so far.”

  “No, no . . . it’s totally okay,” Jessica said, shaking her head a little to clear the traitorous thoughts. “It’s fine. Jonathan, I like you. It’s okay.”

  They smiled sheepishly at each other. His shyness was suddenly contagious, she found.

  “Do you want some more wine?” he asked.

  “No thanks.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I feel like such a dork. It’s just that . . . I really like you, Jessica, and I didn’t want to rush things and risk scaring you away.”

  She had to smile at that. How dramatic he was making it sound. But he was just trying to do the right thing, so she reassured him. “I really like you, too, Jonathan. And you haven’t scared me away — yet. If anything, I was beginning to wonder if you didn’t find me attractive after all.”

  “Oh no,” he said, laughing. “That is definitely not the case.”

  She laughed, too. “Okay. So that’s settled, then. What do you say we go ahead and call it a night? We can pick up where we left off next week, if you want.” She couldn’t say, of course, that the intrusive thoughts of Guillermo had totally ruined the mood for her. Hopefully, though, it was only temporary and she’d have her mojo back the next time they went out.

  “Are you free next Friday?” Jonathan asked. “There’s a big show at the House. It should be way better than this TBar thing was.”

  “Yeah, I’m free,” Jessica said. “And I love the House. Let’s do it.”

  They made their plans, then he took her hand and helped her up from the couch.

  He drove her home. At her door, they kissed good night. Jessica was glad to see that it was much more comfortable this time, now that they’d broken the ice. She was glad.

  Now, she thought as she went into her apartment alone, if only she could stop thinking of Guillermo altogether, then she could move forward with Jonathan. Because finally she was starting to see that that was probably the best course of action.

  21

  At Wong’s corner table, Jessica reached out and touched Marisol’s sleeve so as not to give her the ojo — the evil eye. Not that Jessica would give her the ojo on purpose, but she couldn’t help feeling a little envious. As always, Marisol looked beautiful. She wore jeans and silver sandals, and her long black hair cascaded over the shoulders of her supercute embroidered, obviously vintage blouse.

  “Your hair looks good.” Marisol reached out to touch it, returning the favor.

  After giving the waiter the same order they always did, Jessica gave Marisol the rundown on her date the night before.

  “So you just made out a little and then went home?” Marisol asked when she was done.

  “Yeah. It was weird. I really thought we were going to go all the way, at first. Then . . . I don’t know. I started thinking about that idiot Guillermo, and it messed everything up.” Jessica relived the moment in her mind, then added, “It was almost like he made me think of him. I mean, it was almost like it was a sign, you know?”

  Marisol raised a quizzical eyebrow, and then the waiter arrived. He put lemongrass chicken in front of Jessica and garlic tofu in front of Marisol. They picked up their forks and dug in.

  “I don’t know,” said Marisol. “Are you sure you didn’t make yourself think of Guillermo? Maybe because you weren’t ready to be with Jonathan yet?”

  Jessica laughed. “No. At least, I don’t think so. How could I not be ready, when he treats me so well? Anyway, it doesn’t matter, because I’m going out with Jonathan again next week, and I’m pretty sure that’ll be the night.”

  “Are you excited?” asked Marisol. “Do you know what you’re going to wear?”

  “Yes, and not yet. I’m still trying to decide. Maybe something easy to remove,” Jessica said with a wicked smile. She didn’t want to trip Jonathan up with too many zippers or buttons, if they did end up hooking up.

  While sipping her iced tea, Marisol glanced surreptitiously at her cell to check the time. Even though it was Saturday, Jessica knew her friend barely had time for this lunch and would be running back to work soon for some counseling session or field trip. She decided to ask about the web site now, before she forgot. “So what’d Esmeralda say about the site? Have they made a decision yet?”

  “Yes. They picked you.”

  “Really?” Jessica practically shrieked. “Oh, my gosh. Why didn’t you tell me first thing?”

  “I’d planned to, but you started talking about your men and I totally forgot.”

  Jessica’s mind was already racing, forging plans. “This is so fabulous. I have to start working on the real site as soon as I get home.”

  “Okay, but hold on a second. Don’t get too excited, because it turns out the grant’s not going to be as much as we thought. It’s not even half of what you bid. Esmeralda was going to call you sometime this week and discuss which features of your site we can afford.”

  Jessica sighed. “Oh, man. It’s a sign.” Marisol rolled her eyes, but Jessica ignored her. This wasn’t her big career opportunity after all. Not that she’d expected the grant money to enable her to quit her day job. But still — she’d wanted to do a big enough site that she could use it to impress other nonprofits and maybe drum up more business.

  Now that sh
e thought of it, though, there was no reason she couldn’t still do that. “You know what?” she said. “That’s fine. I’m going to tell her that I’ll still do the whole thing, even for the lower fee.”

  “No, don’t do that. Don’t bust your butt for nothing.”

  “It won’t be for nothing,” Jessica said. “It’ll be a good addition to my portfolio. Plus, I enjoy the work and I like volunteering for you guys. So it’s not a big deal.”

  “Well, I’m sure Esmeralda will love hearing that,” Marisol said wryly. She took one last bite of her tofu, then said, “Okay. Sorry to cut it short, but I have to run back to ALMA and be a chaperone for their field trip at two.”

  “Okay. Well, then call me later. Maybe we can get together again sometime this week.” Jessica hated that Marisol was always working so many hours, or else commuting way out to the suburbs, and never had time to hang out. She missed her friend but couldn’t complain because Marisol really enjoyed her job.

  “Hey, you want to go with me?” Marisol said suddenly. “We could totally use an extra chaperone.”

  “Um. Right now?” Jessica looked at her cell, as if she had someplace to be.

  “Yeah. We’re going to the art museums. Come on, it’ll be fun. We just did a criminal background check on you a couple of months ago, right? You said you were just going to go home anyway, right?”

  Jessica had no reason to say no, really. “Okay, fine. I’ll go. But you owe me.”

  Herding a bunch of little kids around wasn’t her usual idea of weekend fun, but it was better than staying home alone, Jessica had to admit. She hadn’t been to the museum in forever. Some of the girls she was chaperoning had never been at all. She tried to make it fun and educational for them, pointing out the most famous pieces and her favorites, too. She explained cubism and surrealism and set the example for viewing nude statues in a mature manner.

  When they stopped for snacks in the sculpture garden, Jessica helped pass out the juice and fruit cups ALMA got for free from People Helping People with Meals, another Houston nonprofit.

  “You’re pretty,” one of the girls told her.

  “Thank you. So are you.” With her long ponytail, the little girl reminded Jessica of herself at eight years old.

  “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  “Uh . . .”

  How was she supposed to answer that? Did she? She’d gone on a couple of dates with Jonathan, but he wasn’t exactly her boyfriend. As for Guillermo . . . She might have considered him her boyfriend before, but not now.

  The little girl was still waiting for her answer.

  “Uh, no. Not really, I don’t.”

  “Why not?” the girl asked. Her eyes were big and innocent and hungry for information that was none of her business. On second thought, Jessica realized, this little girl reminded her more of Sabrina.

  “Because I don’t need a boyfriend,” she replied. “I’m happy by myself. I have a lot of friends and a good job, and that’s all I need.”

  The little girl listened with her mouth open in complete fascination. “Really? What’s your job?”

  “Uh . . . I work in insurance. Eat your sandwich now, m’ija, okay?” Jessica was a little annoyed by the girl’s ability to make her question all the choices she’d made in life up until now. Jessica almost wished she had just gone home after lunch.

  As they cleaned up their tables, one of the little boys ran up to Jessica and yelled, “Miss! Miss! Can we go see the dolly picture again? The one with the melted watches?”

  Jessica smiled. She knew he meant the Salvador Dalí piece, and she was proud that he’d remembered the name, almost. She had taught one kid something, at least, and that was a good feeling.

  As she herded them through the halls full of paintings and sculptures, Jessica realized that she was someone these kids could learn from and maybe even admire. She’d gone to college. She had a decent job. She had stayed away from drugs. She knew the neighborhoods these kids were from — some of them didn’t have too many role models who could say the same. Jessica felt pretty important all of a sudden.

  By the time they did the final head counts and boarded the buses outside the sculpture garden, Jessica was completely worn out. She’d probably lost five pounds just walking around. Her throat hurt from calling out to the kids to stay close. But, weirdly, she’d had fun.

  Marisol leaned over the seat and whispered in her ear, “After this, we’ll go have a drink.”

  After the last kid’s mother had picked him up from ALMA, Jessica and Marisol drove down the street to Agave Rojo.

  “Two margaritas, please,” Marisol told the bartender the moment they sat at the bar.

  Jessica smiled. It was good to see her friend relax for once. While they waited for their drinks, they caught up on all the gossip they hadn’t been able to get to during lunch. They traded updates on their families, and Jessica told Marisol about Toby’s latest romantic tribulations.

  Eventually, Marisol did her duty to ALMA by hitting Jessica up for more volunteer work. “We’re going on another one next week, to the butterfly house. Can I sign you up to chaperone again?” she teased, obviously expecting a definite no.

  “Maybe,” Jessica said. Marisol’s look of surprise made her smile. “I had fun today. Seriously. The kids weren’t bad at all, and it was nice to put my art history degree to use for once.” She took a sip of her drink, then went on. “You’re lucky, Marisol. You get to do something useful for a living.”

  Marisol patted her friend’s shoulder. “Aw, come on. Your job is useful, too. What would your corporate clients do without you to handle their insurance for them?”

  “They’d get someone else to do it,” Jessica snorted. “And that new person would be bored out of their mind, just like I am every day.”

  Marisol’s face was sympathetic.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Jessica added quickly. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate my job. They pay me well enough to have an apartment in the Montrose. Even if it’s not a new apartment with a working pool. . . . I just wish I could still work there but do something more creative, you know?”

  “Well, maybe you will,” said Marisol, “after you get your promotion. Didn’t you say the brokers get to do fancy graphic presentations all the time?”

  “Yeah,” Jessica said somewhat morosely. “If you count navy and white as fancy.”

  Marisol stirred her drink and mused, “It’s too bad you can’t play accordion.”

  Jessica raised her eyebrow at the seemingly random comment. “Why’s that?”

  “Because we’re losing our accordion teacher at ALMA. He just gave notice. He has to go back to Mexico.”

  Jessica wondered how this could possibly relate to her situation. “Well, that sucks for you guys. Even if I could play accordion, though, I would never go back to nonprofit full-time. No offense, but it just doesn’t pay enough.” She knew that from her experience at the Centro and from the fact that Marisol chose to live in a less expensive suburb in order to stretch her paycheck to the fullest extent.

  “It doesn’t pay enough if you’re on the admin side,” Marisol corrected. “But the artists get paid plenty. They’re by the hour, but if they teach for us, they wind up getting paid more than me.”

  “Really?” said Jessica.

  “Yeah. Their salaries are totally funded by government grants. Let me know if you meet any accordion teachers,” Marisol added. “If we don’t find a replacement, we’ll lose part of our funding.”

  Jessica sighed. Things were tough all over, it seemed. She resolved not to complain about her job anymore. At least she didn’t have to rely on grants in order to get paid.

  When Jessica finally got home from dinner and drinks with Marisol, it was just getting dark. As she climbed the stairs to her apartment, she heard what sounded like mewing and glanced around. The landlady’s cat wasn’t there, and he never made noises like that anyway. Had that margarita been stronger than she’d thought? she wondered.

&
nbsp; At the top of the stairs, right in front of her door, someone had left a baking sheet full of sand, with a big, hole-filled boot box next to it. She heard the mewing again and quickly bent to pull the lid off the box.

  Inside sat a tiny black kitten. Jessica recognized it — it was one of the ones from Hunter’s litter, in Guillermo’s garage. The kitten had something tied around his neck. It was a torn strip of flowered fabric, tied into a bow. Jessica picked him up and hugged him to her chest, kissing the top of his sweet little head. His mewing instantly subsided.

  Also in the box was a can of tuna fish and a postcard. Jessica picked it up. It was from the Centro de Artes Culturales, the nonprofit where she used to work. They were promoting an upcoming art exhibit — a three-man show. The first name listed was Guillermo Villalobos. Her Guillermo.

  She turned the card over. With a dark, inky pen, he’d written only, “Someone who needs your love.”

  22

  After setting up as comfortable a home for the kitten as she could, Jessica played with the energetic little ball of fur late into the night. Then she took him into her bed, where he purred himself to sleep in the crook of her arm. But Jessica stayed awake for quite some time.

  Thoughts tumbled chaotically in her head. Why was Guillermo doing a show at the Centro? She’d thought he was getting ready for an exhibit at the Houston Council on Latino Arts instead. She had never even given him the Centro’s number.

  Of course, she wanted to see his work on exhibit. He hadn’t done a show since she’d met him, despite all her nagging. He’d said he didn’t like having to pretend that he cared about other people’s opinions.

  But why, she wondered, had he invited her like this, with a gift left on her doorstep? What did he think — that this would be enough to make her fall right back into a dead-end relationship with him?

  “Fat chance,” she said to herself. He had another think coming.

  She took Guillermo’s card from her nightstand and read it again. “Someone who needs your love.”