“That’s right,” another woman chimed in. “Charlene Singer—she’s the resident sexpert—is always preaching the same old, same old about inner beauty and emotional attraction and clicking on a psychological wavelength, but she doesn’t give us anything really solid to work with.”
“Like positions,” one of the women chimed in.
“And techniques,” another offered as they all moved toward the doorway.
“We think it’s so cool that you’re continuing the family tradition,” Lolly told her as she pulled open the front door. “Why, when we heard you specialized in ultimate orgasms, I activated the phone tree right away. Every Juliet in the county knows you’re here and they’ll be thrilled to hear that you’re going to speak.”
“Speak? But I thought it was a luncheon?”
“You’re the luncheon speaker.” Lolly beamed. “It’ll be our most informative meeting yet. It’s about time the women in this town learned how to really please a man.”
“But I cook for a living.”
“That’s what we’re counting on.”
“But—” Holly started, only to bite back the rest of her protest when Lolly turned expectant eyes on her. Holly’s hands tightened on the soft quilt. “But I’ll need some time to prepare.” Okay, that wasn’t the no cotton-picking way she’d intended, but she couldn’t very well be rude. They’d come all this way outside of town and brought her a really great present and they were so nice.
“The luncheon isn’t for three weeks. We meet at the community center off of Main Street. Cookie does the decorations, Jennifer provides the linens and we have the food catered in. This month is barbecued venison, so don’t wear anything light-colored. Last time, Jill Marie Smith wore shell-pink. She’s still trying to get the stains out of her lap. We’ll see you then,” Lolly rushed on. “And before then, I’m sure. It’s such a small town.”
“But—” Holly started again. The protest fell on deaf ears as she found herself passed from one woman to the next in a series of loose, informal hugs before the door slammed quickly shut.
As she stood in the center of her living room, the quilt in her hands, and tried to catch her breath, the truth of what she’d just done came barreling at her like a semi with bad brakes.
A luncheon speech. About pleasing a man.
A luncheon speech. About pleasing a man.
First off, the closest she’d ever come to a speech had been a ninth grade book report at school number eight. But that had been different. It didn’t matter that she’d had to read verbatim from her paper or that some of the kids had snickered when she’d mispronounced tyrannosaurus because she’d known there would be another science class down the road, and she’d been right. Five months later, she’d changed schools again, and families.
But this… This was different.
This was home.
Home Sweet Home.
As for the man-pleasing part… The only person she usually pleased was herself—with a scrumptious dessert or an intense session with her favorite vibrator.
Up until Friday night, that is. She’d pleased Josh and he’d certainly pleased her, but there’d been no formula to it. It had just happened. She was a baker, for heaven’s sake.
But the Juliets didn’t seem to realize that. She was Rose Farraday’s granddaughter and, therefore, a chip off the old block when it came to men and pleasure. Adding to the misconception was the fact that she did profit from sex, what with the sensual nature of her desserts.
She had to set them straight.
That’s what she told herself when the doorbell rang a few minutes later. Just open your mouth and set the record straight.
She reached for the doorknob.
4
“I CAN’T TALK about how to please a man,” Holly said as she opened the door.
“No problem.” Sue—from the saloon on Friday night—stood on the front porch. “I’m really good at following written directions.” The woman wore an old Texas Rangers jersey, tan shorts and flip-flops. Her hair had been pulled back in a ponytail. Her eyes looked red-rimmed. Dark shadows puddled beneath, as if she’d tossed and turned all night. And cried. She’d definitely been up crying.
Concern welled inside Holly and her own anxiety fled. “I’m really sorry. I thought you were one of the Juliets.”
“I guess I am now. I am single.” Sue tried to smile but the expression didn’t quite touch her eyes. “I don’t mean to barge in on you, but I had to say thanks. It was really nice of you to see me home on Friday night.”
“Glad I could help. I know you’re hurting right now, but things will get better. Especially if you try to stay busy. Find a way to occupy your free time.”
Holly knew that firsthand because she’d done so after the breakup of her only romantic relationship. She’d thrown herself into school after breaking up with Don whom she’d dated a whopping four months during her first year in college.
She’d approached the situation with reservations because she’d always made it a habit of keeping her distance when it came to any type of relationship. But Don had been so sweet and she’d been so vulnerable. She’d never had a real boyfriend and the temptation was too much to resist since she knew she wouldn’t be picking up and leaving anytime soon—she was only a freshman on a full academic scholarship to the University of Houston. She hadn’t counted on the fact that Don would party too much, flunk out of school and be forced to return to his home in Alabama.
She’d been so hurt, she’d eaten her way through an entire bowl of fudge batter—chocolate helped sate her lustful cravings, but fudge soothed any hurt. She’d also cried and wallowed in her self-pity, but then she’d picked herself back up and focused on her life. On beefing up her defenses and moving on.
Her gaze went to Sue’s red-rimmed eyes and her uncertain expression, and Holly’s chest tightened. She’d only been in like with Don. She couldn’t imagine the hurt if she’d let herself fall in love with him.
“You should definitely keep busy,” Holly went on.
“I’m glad you said that because I have something to ask you.” The woman pulled back her shoulders and lifted her chin as if to summon her courage. “I want to work for you.” Before Holly could reply, she rushed on, “I’m single and I hate it, and the only way to change it is to make some changes.” Uncertainty flashed in her gaze before she seemed to gather her confidence. She squared her shoulders again. “I’m going to turn myself into a sex kitten and lure my Bert Wayne back home. I figure I’ll have to work on my looks and go on a diet. While I’m doing that, I want to beef up my know-how when it comes to pleasing my man. I know the nuts and bolts, of course. It’s not like I’m a virgin or anything. But I was hoping you could teach me the extras.”
“Me?”
“You’re an expert.”
“I’m
