Beyond Seduction Part 22

"If it will make you feel better, no more plumbers. Maybe painters next time."

"Painters would be okay. I'd feel much better about that. You really told my Dad that you're my interior decorator?"

"What was I supposed to tell him?"

He pushed a hand through his hair. "Fine. Let's go, before you decide to decorate the house in pink."

THEY MET TONY AT A SPORTS bar in Jersey. An old dive with a crowd of regulars who were more interested in the basketball game than a Congressional candidate. They found a booth in the corner, and Sam took over the introductions before Mercedes could step in. "Tony, this is Mercedes. Mercedes is the-" Sam stopped in mid-sentence, his tongue wrapped around the words he was going to say. Woman I'm going to marry. "-my girlfriend," he corrected smoothly. "If she tells you anything else, it's a lie."

Mercedes looked peeved. "I wasn't going to lie."

Tony studied her, rubbing his jaw. "You look familiar. Have we met before?"

Sam knew where this awkward moment was going. And he knew it was something he would have to learn to live with-starting now. "She's been on the show."

"Ah...." Tony started, before comprehension dawned. "Oh. The writer."

"Yes, I'm the writer," said Mercedes smiling tightly.

Tony looked at Sam, and gave him a thumbs up.

Sam rolled his eyes.

"How are you doing?" Mercedes asked Tony, neatly dodging any more probing questions. Sam shot her a look of grat.i.tude.

"Good. You're the one who wrote my profile, aren't you?"

She nodded.

Tony shook his head in amazement. "You wouldn't believe. Females are interested in me."

"So you've been out on some dates?" asked Sam.

"No. I haven't responded back to anyone. I don't know what to say, what to do. And what if they don't like me? I printed some of the e-mails out, maybe you can help?"

Mercedes patted Tony on the back. "And of course we will. Pick one out of the pile that you like."

Tony pulled out a sheet of paper. "She's in her mid-forties, has two kids, and is looking for a good time only."

Mercedes tapped a finger against her cheek, the wheels turning in her head. "Okay, here's the real deal. She's telling you that she doesn't want a relationship because she's been burned before. Older, got two kids, the first husband, or father of her kids was probably a total jerk, and she's afraid that you're a jerk, too. However, she's hoping against hope that you're not a jerk, because actually she really wants the whole enchilada. But she's got a lot of baggage with her. She has a ready-made family. That's a tough selling point for a lot of men. Are you prepared for a ready-made family, Tony?"

Tony laughed.

"Then you need to walk away. You've got to put her needs before yours, and if she's going to get hurt, you don't even venture into the woods. Got it?"

"But she seems nice, and I wouldn't want to hurt her."

"Aha! Emotional trap number one. The pity-relationship. Don't go there, Tony."

Tony looked at Sam. "You think?"

"She's the expert," he said, with a pointed stare at Mercedes.

She glared back.

Tony drew a red X through the paper.

"Next one?"

"This one is thirty-two years old, never married, is worried she won't ever find her Prince Charming. Those are the words she used, 'Prince Charming,' can you believe it? And she's attractive, likes jazz, and wine-"

"Whoa," interrupted Sam. "Jazz and wine? Tony, do you think you can do jazz and wine? Don't you think you should be yourself?"

"But what if I like jazz and wine?"

"Do you?"

"No."

"See. You have to know what you want. You have to know yourself. You have to think, 'Okay, this is what I like and if it's what I like, then that's what it's going to be.'"

Mercedes made a face. "That doesn't even make sense, Sam."

"It did to me. Tony needs to know his own mind, and have faith in his own decisions, and not second-guess himself. I mean, come on. Jazz and wine? Jazz, okay. Wine, okay. But both? Together? He'd be comatose in two days."

"But what if he hadn't tried jazz, or he hadn't tried wine. What if he tries it, and he likes it, but if he hadn't tried it, then he would have never known."

"I hate jazz," said Tony. "Wine's okay, but I want it with food. If I'm going to sit alone and drink, I want beer."

Mercedes heaved a sigh. "Fine. No jazz or wine. She's probably a supermodel or something."

"No, I've seen her picture."

"Let's move on," said Mercedes.

"Next up is a temp worker. She's young. New to the city, and is looking for someone who can show her around. She's not sure if she wants a relationship or not, but thinks if it works out, then it should."

"There," said Sam. "You should write her back. She's sensible. Not fixated on one thing or another, but open to options and opportunities, since no one knows when options and opportunities might come up."

"I think she sounds flighty and unreliable," answered Mercedes, shaking her head. "She's too young to know what she wants. She moved to New York to make her way in the world, so she's ambitious, but she's going to be shallow and have her head turned by the first hunky guy that comes along."

Tony frowned. "I didn't see that in what she said. Did you see that?"

Mercedes nodded. "Oh, yeah, but you have to know how to read between the lines. It's there. Young. Flighty. Unreliable. Happens all the time."

"Not to disagree, but to disagree, I don't think you should slap all young adults with a label of flighty and unreliable. I know some young people who are responsible and reliable."

Mercedes looked at him skeptically. "I am not responsible."

Sam coughed. "Actually, I was speaking of my stage manager, Kristin. She's young, but she's very reliable. She's usually at the studio before me, and completely un-flighty."

"You think I'm flighty and irresponsible?"

"I think you just said you weren't responsible."

"You think I'm not responsible?"

"I didn't say that. You said that."

"I'm responsible. I'm as responsible as the next person."

"I know you're responsible. You're not flighty and you're pretty reliable."

"You don't think I'm reliable?"

"I think you're reliable," said Tony. "I mean, you were five minutes late, but that could be because of traffic, and I don't think people should be labeled as unreliable because a deer hurtles through someone's car on the Palisades."

"There wasn't traffic, or a deer. We were late because of Sam."

"Now wait a minute. You started that discussion, not me."

"But you wanted to finish it."

"Well, yes, I did. We couldn't just leave in the middle of a discussion."

Tony's eyes got big. "You guys were having a fight?"

"It was a discussion, not a fight," said Mercedes.

"I wasn't fighting. You were fighting," answered Sam, because he didn't fight. He argued for a living, and he knew about fights, and they hadn't been having one.

"No," snapped Mercedes. "I was discussing. Did I raise my voice? I don't think so."

"But you were disagreeing," Sam pointed out.

"There can be disagreement in discussions. It doesn't have to be a fight."

"A discussion with disagreement is a debate."

"All right then. It was a debate."

"You guys were having a debate?" asked Tony.

"Debates are allowed," Mercedes replied, giving Tony a motherly smile.

And right then, Sam knew.

He loved Mercedes.

There, he admitted it.

He loved her vulnerability, he loved her strength. He loved her ability to put everything out on the table and not worry about it.

He loved her courage, he loved her mind, he loved her body.

Sam had always had an optimistic streak in him, and he wanted to believe that he could work out his relationship with Mercedes, convince her they had a future together, and yeah, win a House seat, too.

Maybe he couldn't have all of those things, but he would give up a seat in Congress before he was going to give up her.

She glanced over, saw him watching, and he smiled.

Tony looked at the paper and scratched his head. "So what's the verdict on young and flighty?"

"No," voted Mercedes.

"Yes," voted Sam.

They continued through the choices for Tony, and finally, the selection had been pared down to a mere five, but Tony still seemed worried.

Tony stared into his beer. "I haven't been out on a date in years," he admitted.

"Don't worry. If it's meant to be, it'll be," said Sam.

"I was with my wife for seventeen years. I thought that was meant to be."

Mercedes smiled at Tony as if the world was going to be okay, as if happy endings were possible and Sam felt his heart squeeze tightly. "You have to try. If you love her, you have to try. If she loves you, really loves you, she's going to try." Mercedes looked at Sam, her eyes sparkling.

Then her lips curved up in a smile, and Sam knew that Mercedes was going to try.

THE NEXT MORNING, SAM MET Martin at the Four Seasons for breakfast. It was a room where movers and shakers congregated, so people knew they were movers and shakers. Sam saw some heads turn as he walked in. Martin had set up this on purpose.

Always needing to spin the appearance.

Sam shook his hand, and they sat down for business. This time, Sam was ready.

"I've listed my core principles. They won't change. You can spin them however you want."

Martin scanned the list. "What's the funding for the arts?"

"I think schools need money for music and art education. I think math and science are still a priority, but they're axing school arts programs all over the state."