The Promise of Change Read Free Page A

sarcastically.
    Sarah chose to ignore it. “Carlos is a great assistant, and takes great care of me, but—”
    “I bet,” Ann said, as she rolled her sapphire blue eyes and looked over the menu at Becca, who snickered in response.
    The waitress came over to take their orders before Sarah could respond. The girls made their selections and handed over their menus.
    “Anyway, I don’t want this,”—Sarah waved her hand as if shooing a pesky fly—“whatever you’re alluding to, to cause a problem with our professional relationship.”
    Frowning, Sarah wondered if she should say something to Carlos. Talk about awkward. ‘So, I hear you have a crush on me.’ Then what? ‘If so, get over it. If not, please excuse my over-inflated ego for thinking it in the first place?’
    No. She was better off taking a wait-and-see approach.
    “Speaking of cougars . . .” Becca said, “you’ll never guess what Sarah bought. A bright red convertible Boxster—”
    “You bought a Boxster?”
    “See,” Becca said, turning to Sarah, “that’s exactly what I said.”
    “Cool.”
    “Okay, I didn’t say that.” Becca gave Ann a stern look. “Don’t encourage her.”
    “Sorry. But I think that’s, well, cool. Will you take me for a ride?”
    “Of course.”
    “I think it’s a replacement for sex,” Becca interjected.
    Sarah and Ann turned to look at her.
    “Well, I do.”
    “Who are you, Sigmund Freud?” Sarah scoffed. “Sometimes a car is just a car.”
    “Except when it’s a lipstick-red convertible Porsche.”
    “It’s ruby-red metallic.” Sarah’s glare indicated she no longer considered this exchange good-natured teasing.
    “Red. It’s red.”
    “So,” Ann said, as the waitress brought bread and salads, “have you decided what course you’re taking at Oxford?”
    “Why, Jane Austen of course. A whole week of Jane Austen!” Sarah sighed, her eyes wistful, then laughed at herself. She was attending a summer adult education program at Christ Church, one of Oxford University’s thirty-nine colleges.
    Ann laughed too, shaking her head. “I don’t know what you see in the dull and proper novels of Jane Austen. Give me a nice racy novel complete with a gorgeous, bare-chested hero and I’m in heaven.”
    “I’m with you,” Becca said, dipping her bread in olive oil before popping a piece into her mouth.
    “Jane Austen’s heroes are gorgeous . . . look at Mr. Darcy,” Sarah argued.
    “Yeah, but Lizzy never saw him bare-chested.” Ann took a sip of her wine. “Speaking of gorgeous, a guy at the bar has been looking at you since you came in. No, don’t look, he’s coming over.”
    “Oh God.” Sarah could feel the flush creeping into her face. She turned around. Talk about tall, dark, and handsome. He stood right next to the table.
    “Hello,” he said, first looking at Ann and Becca before finally turning to Sarah. “I hope you don’t mind, but I asked the waitress what you were drinking.” He placed two glasses of wine and a Cosmo on the table. “I’m Derek. I’ve seen you here before, but couldn’t get up the courage to talk to you.”
    “I’m Sarah.” He had a nice smile, but . . . “Thank you for the drinks,” she said, as she raised her glass.
    “Would you like to go out some time?” he asked quickly, as if he didn’t want to lose his nerve.
    Sarah’s right hand went self-consciously to her now-bare left ring finger. No way to use marriage as an excuse. Times like this she wished she’d continued to wear her wedding band.
    Before she could stammer out a response, he said, “We could just meet here for dinner or drinks if that would make you more comfortable than going out with a total stranger.”
    She glanced over at Ann, who wore an impish grin. She didn’t dare look at Becca.
    She smiled awkwardly, her blush deepening. “Derek, I really appreciate your invitation, but I’m not ready . . . I mean I’m not really . . . thank you, but I have a rule . . . I don’t