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  “Maybe they don’t want the whole world to know they’re trawling for dates on an online site,” Mac said.

  “Then they should find another way to meet people. I say if you are going to put yourself out there, do it all the way.”

  “First up, LuvintheCity. She’s five-five, slender build, auburn hair. Lives with a roommate, college degree…”

  Mac groaned. “Her picture’s not bad, but I have this phobia about people who feel the need to alter the spelling of words to be cute. Luv? Now isn’t that cute?”

  “Fine, no cute spellings.” Aimee gestured at the monitor.

  “Which rules out almost all these profiles. Shall I just close the search down, Mac, or can you get over it?”

  “Is that a prom dress?” Jordan pointed at a picture before Mac could reply. “And who is that woman in the other picture with her? Looks like they’re about to rip each other’s clothes off.” Megan joined in. “What’s the point of a pic like that?

  Is she trying to prove she’s been found attractive by at least one other female? ‘This woman thinks I am beautiful and you should too. Text me now!’”

  “Check this one out.” Jordan pointed at another thumbnail pic. “Is that a mullet?”

  Aimee clapped her hands together. “Ladies, please. We could sit here all day making fun of other people’s profiles, but if you want to start meeting some women, you need to start writing your own. First you need a handle. Pick something short and catchy that conveys who you are or what you’re looking for.”

  “Handle?” Mac frowned. “It’s not like we’re truckers looking for love on our CB radios.”

  “So, are you saying you want me to put your real name online?” Aimee asked sarcastically. “And maybe your social security number too, so that you can’t possibly be accused of hiding behind a user ID?”

  Jordan laughed. “I have the perfect handle for myself.

  ‘Skin Deep.’”

  Aimee tsked. “Is that really the message you want to convey?”

  “Absolutely. Type it up, Ms. Howard.”

  Aimee glanced at Mac. “Who are you going to be? Please pick something a little more subtle than our doctor friend.”

  “How about ‘Laker Gal’?”

  “Okay, there are some basic questions to whip through.

  You’re both out lesbians, not bi. You live alone. You’re single, never been married, no kids. Do either of you want kids?”

  “I thought that was the beauty of being lesbian.” Mac replied. “We don’t have to have to prove ourselves by having children.”

  “Well spoken,” Jordan said.

  “I’ll take that as a no to the kid question.” Aimee continued to type. “Now, let’s talk about physical appearance. We have a drop-down menu for overall looks. Here are your choices.

  ‘People whistle when I walk by. All my other girlfriends thought I looked good. I clean-up real well.’ Or, ‘My mother thinks I am adorable.’ Which is it, girls?”

  “Hell, I don’t know,” Mac said. “I do clean up okay and I guess I am reasonably attractive.”

  Jordan punched her in the arm. “Who are you kidding?

  People definitely whistle, if they can pick their tongues up off the floor, when you walk by. You’re gorgeous.”

  Mac blushed. “Well, coming from Dallas’s premier connoisseur of good looks, that’s quite a compliment.”

  Looking closely at her best friend, Jordan thought indeed Mac was a looker. Certainly, this wasn’t a new realization, but it had been a long time since she’d thought objectively about Mac’s beauty. She was somewhere around five-six or five-seven. Her cyclist body boasted a lean, athletic build cut in all the right places. Her thick, blond hair was cut in a sassy, short style that Mac wore slightly spiked. Her face glowed from sun and outdoor exercise. Honey brown eyes reflected her love of life and laughter. Yes, she was definitely likely to draw compliments from passersby, whistles included.

  “Aimee, check the ‘people whistle’ comment for both of us,” Jordan ordered. Turning back to Mac, she explained, “You may as well show confidence. It’s more attractive than modesty.”

  “Fine,” Aimee said. “Now you have to write something about yourself and what you’re looking for, in your own words.” She turned the laptop toward Jordan. “You go first.

  Something tells me you already know exactly what you want to say.”

  As Jordan typed, the rest of the group congregated at the far end of the Dock to allow her to write uninterrupted. She didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about what she was writing.

  The words flowed easily from a store of life experience. This little online adventure would only serve one purpose for her, and that was to demonstrate that deep romantic relationships were nothing more than a sham. No matter what people said about true love and undying commitment, staying power was only as strong as the depth of physical desire. Life’s lessons had made that truth clear, and Jordan lived by the principle that true love didn’t exist.

  She stopped typing and reviewed her missive: Skin Deep’s Message to Prospective Matches: Who are we kidding? Basic physical attraction is the foundation of all intimate relationships. If my picture on this site doesn’t get you going, you’re not going to contact me, no matter what I say about myself. I will tell you this: What you see is what you get, and I expect the same. I promise if you live up to your end of the bargain, we can have a date that fulfills even the most spectacular expectations. My motto is: anything goes. If you’re looking for true love and forever after, I am not for you. I won’t tie you up, not with relationship strings anyway, and either one of us can decide when enough is enough.

  Jordan paused before saving her work. She could imagine what the group would say, but she didn’t get why everyone thought it was mandatory to pair off into happy couples, especially when it was clear that there was no such thing.

  Relationships didn’t last, no matter how hard couples tried.

  With a slight pang, she glanced at the newly married Megan and Haley, then hit the Save button and announced, “I’m done.”

  “Well, that took all of two minutes.” Aimee paused between bites of a thin crust pizza. “Let’s see what all the online babes are going to learn about you.”

  “It won’t take long.” Jordan slid the laptop across the table and picked up a plate. The food looked delicious.

  As she made her selections, Aimee read Skin Deep’s brief philosophy on love and romance aloud, punctuating the sharp words with disparaging facial expressions. By the time she finished reading, her face was scrunched into wrinkles of disbelief. “Is this the best you could do? Couldn’t you at least act like you’re trying to meet someone?”

  “Why should I?” Jordan sliced into a delicate phyllo pastry triangle. “You started this little experiment and I’m only participating so I can prove my theory that not everyone online is looking for love. I’m sure lots of women are scared to admit their innermost desires in case their friends think they’re shallow. You gals already think I am shallow, so I have nothing to lose. I’m using my shallowness to flush out the rest of the fun-loving woman on the Web.”

  “You’re hopeless.” Aimee moved the computer in Mac’s direction. “Ready?”

  “Sure, why not. But I may need more than the two minutes Jordan took.”

  As her friends ate and chatted, Mac stared blankly at the computer screen, willing inspiration to take over. God knew, she didn’t share her best friend’s philosophy. Jordan’s cynical take on love was distasteful, yet Mac wasn’t sure whether she could articulate her own. She wasn’t completely certain what she believed about love and the path toward it. She’d had a good example of true love while growing up. Her parents couldn’t have been more perfect for one another, and their every action demonstrated their deep commitment and undying love. They’d first met in college when their eyes locked across a crowded room. According to her mother, time had stopped and no one else existed in that magic moment. The story had always seeme
d so clichéd, but cliché or not, their love was proof that romance wasn’t dead. She should be so lucky to find something even close to what they had.

  Concentrating, she typed:

  Laker Gal seeks deep waters.

  I’m a successful entrepreneur and, like most business owners, I’ve spent years being wed to my work. It’s time for me to find a new relationship.

  My interests are diverse and surely some will intersect with yours. I love road and mountain cycling, romance novels, and great food. Where our interests diverge, perhaps we can each learn to love new things.

  I, like you, believe in forever. We may not fall in love at first sight, but from our first glance we’ll know there’s a spark to be kindled. The feeling will be empowering, igniting us to fan the flame. We’ll burn only for each other. There will be challenges to overcome. Winds of change will threaten to extinguish what we’ve built and we’ll have to learn to feed the fire. No matter what, we will always remember how our love began, and nothing will quell the heat of our passion and commitment to each other.

  If you want what I want, let’s meet and see if there’s a spark. Perhaps we’ll start a fire that will burn forever.

  As she read the words for the third time, Mac reflected that she was indeed a true romantic. She knew Jordan would poke fun, and that confirmed her belief that the message was exactly right, the very antithesis of Jordan’s invitation for a quickie.

  “All right, gang,” she said. “Want to know how I’m going to attract my future wife?”

  Her ears burned as she read aloud her declaration to the unknown future love interest. Only when she finished and her friends started clapping did she start to shake her embarrassment at having bared her feelings. Turning from her fans, she caught Jordan looking off into space with a strange expression on her face. Her features quickly spread into a wide grin when she met Mac’s eyes.

  “You think that’s going to find you everlasting love?”

  There was a faint edge to her voice.

  Mac shrugged. “I have nothing to lose.”

  “Except your illusions.” Jordan gave her a pitying smile.

  “Are you really sure you want to do this?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then let’s post these and prepare to fend off the women.”

  Jordan ate a dip-smeared carrot stick and slowly licked the residue off her fingers.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “What a crazy week,” Mac sighed as she kicked off her shoes and flopped onto her living room sofa.

  She usually worked only weekdays, but Sally Gannon had been out of town for the weekend on a trip planned well before the blistering heat wave showed up on the weather map. The oppressive temperatures sent Dallas residents packing from their own hot kitchens to flock into the cool, carefree dining at the Lakeside. Mac didn’t feel confident enough to leave their less experienced assistant manager alone with the large crowds, so she’d worked from open to close both Saturday and Sunday. Though thankful for the business, she was glad that the week was over and that Sally would be back at the helm starting Monday morning.

  She planned to do nothing but lie around in her boxers for the next two days. Maybe she would force herself out the door to see Jordan. The leisurely brunch a week earlier felt like a distant memory, and she hadn’t heard from Jordan since. She could imagine why. Jordan was probably trying to keep up with e-mail from the online dating venture. Mac got off the sofa and went into the kitchen in search of a glass of wine.

  The room had been redesigned when she renovated the house several years earlier. Copper pots and pans secured on ceiling hooks complemented a Viking range and wall oven. Around the walls, plentiful cabinets showcased a collection of colorful Fiesta dinnerware and shiny Riedel barware.

  Mac plucked a wineglass from one of the cabinets and took a bottle of Santa Margherita from the countertop wine cooler. She poured a healthy dose of the Pinot Grigio and switched on her Bose sound system. The latest Indigo Girls CD cranked up and filled the room with earthy harmonies.

  Mac sat at the rough-hewn wooden table, sipping from the cool glass and contemplating the blinking lights on her laptop computer. She hadn’t read her personal e-mail all week but knew she had messages. She wasn’t sure why she’d put off opening them. Yes, she’d been busy dealing with business matters, but not that busy. And it wasn’t as if they’d know she had flour in her hair and raspberry sauce all over her shirt as she read the replies.

  Flipping open the lid, she watched the screen come to life.

  At first she’d been leery about providing her personal e-mail account details to the dating site, imagining spam problems and even the occasional e-stalker. But truelesbianlove.com used a blind system so no one received her e-mail address. It was totally up to her whether she gave it out once she got to know someone.

  She signed on and quickly scanned her messages before dealing with a couple of routine communications. All the while she was aware of the truelesbianlove.com replies lying in wait for her like landmines. Unsure of what she was about to trigger, she considered deleting all of them and removing her profile. Was it wise to invite fate into her orderly life? She took a deep breath and decided to find out.

  Dear Laker Gal,

  I like your name. I guess from your profile that you live near one of the many lakes that surround Dallas. I do too, and I love it. I’m an avid fisherwoman and spend all my free time out on my boat trying to catch the big one. I’m looking for a woman who is not afraid of the sun, baiting her own hooks, or scaling her catch. Cooking it up, on the other hand, is a duty that we can both share.

  How about it? Are you up for some fishing that’s not online?

  Hope to hear from you soon, Lookin4theBigOne

  Mac laughed out loud. Did Lookin4theBigOne even read her profile in full before she expressed an interest? Mac clicked on the link that brought up her admirer’s profile. There were several photographs of a trim, athletic young butch standing in various poses designed to demonstrate that she was handy with a boat and fishing equipment. Okay, she wasn’t bad looking, but Mac’s idea of a good time did not involve putting worms and bugs on hooks and then sitting around for hours waiting for the “big one” to come along. She started to delete the e-mail, but paused. She wasn’t interested in fishing, but they might have other interests in common. Maybe she should at least write back and find out. But what if fishing was this woman’s only interest? Mac would sooner be poked in the head with sharp sticks than have to listen to fish tales.

  The phone rang as she deliberated, sparing her from having to make a decision. She answered and was relieved to hear her older brother Marty’s voice.

  “Hey, Mac. How’re you doing?”

  “Lying around living the life of the rich and famous,” she joked.

  “I figured as much. I always told you the restaurant business would lead to a life of luxury. How in the world do you manage to fill your days?” Marty teased back.

  They both knew better. Their parents had run a popular East Dallas diner for years. Mac and Marty, along with their brothers, had spent many hours after school and on weekends waiting tables, washing dishes, and doing prep work in the kitchen. After college, their brothers had sworn they would never darken the door of a restaurant again unless they had a reservation, but Mac had loved every minute of the experience.

  After getting her business degree from the University of Texas, she returned to East Dallas to manage the diner as her parents eased into retirement.

  She was devastated when they were killed in a car wreck before they could ever do all they’d envisioned. Their sudden death made the good memories of the work they had shared too painful, and Mac had felt the four walls of the diner closing in. She’d sold the business and bought the property that soon became the Lakeside Patio Bar & Grill. Pouring her grief into the new venture, she found solace in carrying on her parents’ tradition, hosting Dallasites looking for great food in a great atmosphere.

  “What
can I do for you, dear brother?” she asked.

  “Alice wanted me to check if you’re coming to Jeremy’s birthday party?”

  Mac recalled an invitation her sister-in-law had sent through the mail. She’d forgotten to reply. “Saturday after next, right?”

  “Yep. We’ve rented a bounce house and we’re doing a backyard barbeque. You don’t have to cook, serve, or wash dishes, I swear.”

  “I’d love to come,” Mac said. “You know I always make my appearances as the favorite aunt. What should I get him?”

  “Anything to do with Spider-Man is a good bet. I’m glad you can make it. We haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “I know. It’s summer.” She knew she didn’t have to explain the busiest period of the year to her brother.

  “Feel free to bring someone if you want,” he said. “Are you seeing anyone?”

  “Subtle, Marty. No, I’m not seeing anyone. I might bring Jordan if that’s okay. I think she’s been going through a little family withdrawal lately.”

  Jordan was virtually alone and had depended on the Lewis family ever since high school, when her mother had fought a long battle with cancer. Mac recalled the many late nights she’d held her distraught friend while Mrs. Wagner lay in the next room with hospice workers easing her into acceptance of the certainty of death. In between the long, draining visits at her mother’s bedside, Jordan had spent hours at home with Mac.

  Life in the Lewis household was busy but laid back, and Mac’s parents made a point of making their children’s friends feel at home. As a result, the place was always full of teenagers.

  Mac knew Jordan saw the Lewises as her second set of parents and their home as hers, also. The pattern continued through college, with Jordan spending many weekends with her, doing laundry and eating home-cooked meals.

  Years of familiarity allowed Mac to read her best friend’s thoughts. She could sense when Jordan was replaying the loss, not only of her own mother, but of Mac’s parents as well. Mac thought a day with the Lewis family was in order.