Agnes leaned forward and gave a sultry chuckle, touching Edna’s arm. “You sweet thing.” It was amazing that she still managed to make it sound sexy despite the rasp of a heavy smoker’s voice.

Edna continued in her man’s voice. “Isn’t the weather nice today?”

Again, Agnes tittered in a flirty manner. “What, did you bring me out on a date so we could talk about the weather?”

Marjorie’s eyes widened. “Wow.”

“See,” Agnes told her, bobbing her head so fiercely that her neck gave a bit of a wobble. “You hang off of him and act like every word is gold. He’ll be so crazy over you that he won’t know which way to turn.”

“I believe it,” Marjorie said. “I wonder if I should write these down?”

“No, no. It has to be natural. Just practice before your next date.” Agnes snapped her fingers. “Oh, and I nearly forgot the most important thing.”

“What’s that?” Marjorie leaned forward, rapt. Surely there weren’t more hints about to be tossed her way? She had already learned so much just from watching Agnes in action.

“Act like you don’t know anything.”

Marjorie’s brows furrowed. “Huh?”

But Agnes gave her a wide look, her penciled-on eyebrows raising knowingly. “That’s right. If he talks about cars, you don’t know anything about them.”

“But I don’t know anything about cars—”

“And if he talks about the weather, you don’t know anything about weather. And if he talks about running a diner or anything that you do know a lot about, you don’t know anything about it. Understand me?”

“I-I guess so. I just wonder why—”

“Because a man that is in control is a happy man,” Agnes said. “Trust me.”

“You should,” Edna told Marjorie. “She knows what she’s doing. She’s had six husbands.”

Well, if that wasn’t an indicator of success, Marjorie didn’t know what was.

***

Rob texted her at five that afternoon and asked her to meet him in the lobby at seven forty-five. She texted back her confirmation, and then immediately dashed to her closet, looking for something to wear. Tight clothing, Agnes had advised. Marjorie pursed her lips and considered her limited vacation wardrobe. She’d brought things appropriate to the wedding, and she’d considered shopping today for her next date, but her hangover had nixed that idea.

She settled on skinny jeans under a blousy white shirt with big ruffled sleeves and a plunging neckline . . . and wore a tank top underneath. It wasn’t super sexy, but she tucked the tank into her jeans and ensured that it showed a lot of cleavage. It could be worse, she supposed. She considered her flats, but they’d been part of PukeFest and she’d tossed them. All her other shoes were extremely tall. Oh well. There was nothing to be done about that, was there? If he liked her pukey, maybe he’d like her tall, too. She wore the nude Louboutins, since they were her current favorite and made her feel sexy.

Once her makeup and hair were done, she ate an entire handful of breath mints, fixed her lip gloss, and then took a deep, fortifying, minty breath. All right. Date number two couldn’t possibly be any worse than date number one, could it?

With a quick knock on wood just to ensure that she didn’t jinx herself, Marjorie headed down to the lobby to meet her date.

***

Once again, Rob’s date was easily noticed when she cut through the lobby.

And once again, she took his breath away with how utterly fucking gorgeous she was. How did men not notice her? How had she remained such a sheltered virgin for so very long? It was a baffling mystery. So she was tall? What did that matter? She was spellbindingly gorgeous, and as she strolled toward him, he couldn’t help staring at the long, slim legs perfectly set off by the pair of fuck-me heels and her loose blouse. Her hair was pulled into a knot high on her head, and small tendrils escaped around her brow and ears.

As she spotted him, she gave him a shy smile and ducked her head, as if embarrassed.

It took everything he had not to grab her by the hand, drag her back to his hotel room, and throw her down on the bed and fuck her until morning. Christ. Just the sight of her made his mouth water and his dick hard.

As she approached, she put her arms out. “This okay for where we’re going tonight?”

“It’s perfect,” Rob said, hating the hoarse note in his voice. He cleared his throat again. “You look great, Marjorie.”

To his surprise, she leaned forward, touched his arm, and gave a wild giggle. “Thank you. But, uh, how about this weather?”

Huh? “It’s great, I guess.”

She trilled a laugh. “Oh Rob, you’re so funny. Tell me more about the weather.”

His brows drew together. Had she moved on from alcohol straight to acid before tonight’s date? Because she was acting a little bizarre. “There’s clouds. And sometimes rain.”

She continued to giggle, but the look in her eyes was nervous. “Why, um, that’s right!”

“Riiight.” He smoothed the front of his vest. A fucking sweater-vest. God, he’d be laughed out of the Man Channel offices if they saw him dressed like this. But he’d asked his assistants to pick out something appropriate to wear on a bingo date, and this was what they’d decided on. He looked like a fucking chump, but Marjorie was smiling at him, so he supposed he looked all right in her eyes.

“How you feeling?”

She giggled again, but this time it sounded even more forced. “Couldn’t be better.”

“Really? You look a little pale.”

Marjorie touched her cheek, her expression crestfallen. “I do?”

Yeah, great. He’d just told his girl she looked like shit. Way to be smooth, Rob. She’d just totally derailed him with that bizarre weather babble. “Don’t worry about it.”

“So . . . where are we going?”

“Something I hope you’ll like,” he said, offering her his arm. “Bingo night.”

She stumbled in those high heels. “D-did you say bingo? Really?” Her voice went up a squeaky notch.

“Yeah. I thought it’d be fun.” Much like getting a root canal was fun. “You ever play?”

“Me?” Her eyes went wide. “Oh, um, no, actually. I haven’t!” She gave another inane giggle. Then, she reached out and touched his arm again.

Seriously, what was with her?

They headed toward the conference room set aside for the nighttime bingo. The room was filling up, and sure enough, the average age looked to be above fifty-five, maybe more. He could have sworn that someone waved at Marjorie, but she grabbed his arm and steered him to the front. “Let’s sit right up here, shall we? So we can learn.”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure it’s easy to figure out,” he told her, letting her drag him over to the table. “They call a number and you mark it down.”

She gave another wildly fake laugh, touched his arm, and her eyes were wide with that manic look. “You’re so smart. I’m sure you’ll have to do my cards for me. I’m terrible at this sort of thing.”

Behind him, he was pretty sure someone snorted. “Ain’t that Marj?” said one voice.

Before he could turn around and question the man, Marjorie touched his arm again. “Could you go get me a drink please? That would be so wonderful and all this bingo has made me thirsty.” She patted her throat as if to demonstrate.

“Uh, we haven’t even started yet, but okay.” He got up and headed to the concession stand set up at the back of the room. As he did, he glanced over his shoulder and saw Marjorie gesticulating at the people behind them.

What the hell was going on? He paid for two bottled sodas and headed back to see Marjorie smoothing paper cards on the table in front of them. He offered her one of the drinks, and she looked up. She held a piece of paper out to him. “I bought cards so we can play. I hope that’s okay?”

“Sure.”

“And I got you a marker. You can be blue and I’ll be pink.” She handed him a little blue bottle with a wet sponge on the end. And she touched his arm again.