“New Year’s Eve,” the other answered, and then they collapsed into coed-caliber giggles and hugged each other like pageant queens. No shit. Delaney had stumbled into a Grant Connelly sexual conquest recovery group.
“Doesn’t she remind you of someone?” Wendy asked, tapping a finger against her lips, not seeming to care in the least that all these women had apparently banged her brother.
“I lost my virginity at a wedding reception,” said Dody. They all turned to look at her and she casually fluffed her hair. “Well, not this one, of course. It was my own. And of course, it wasn’t Grant because he wasn’t born yet.”
“I’m telling you, she looks like the girl from that movie,” Aimee said, listing to the left and then the right.
All eyes darted back to Delaney, like spectators at Wimbledon.
She’d taken her fake glasses off at dinner because she couldn’t see her damn knife and fork, and now she felt completely exposed. Not that those silly glasses had probably done much good, but they were something. Then again, why should she feel vulnerable right now? Other than his own sisters and the taffeta-wearing granny, she might be the only woman within ten feet who hadn’t slept with Grant Connelly.
“She looks like Jeanine Baxter from Channel Six news,” Lost Virginity Girl said abruptly, and suddenly they were all nodding emphatically, even Wendy and Aimee.
“Yes! That’s who she looks like,” Wendy exclaimed, wiping her hands together as if that was a mission accomplished. “Thank you. It’s been driving me crazy since dinnertime. OK, who needs a drink?”
That was it? The inquisition was over? Everyone turned toward the bar except Delaney and the busty brunette. The woman stepped closer and leaned in, as if to whisper, but her voice was seagull sharp and loud enough to hear over the music.
“So how is it, really? He’s been in the jungle so long he must be like a man just getting out of prison. Is it primal?”
“I have a pen pal in prison,” Dody said, turning back around.
Delaney bit back a chuckle and was just about to make her second denial of conjugal relations with her housemate when the man himself appeared. Grant had taken off his coat and loosened his tie. His shirtsleeves were cuffed up to his elbows, and he appeared flushed and flustered.
“Hey, Lindsey,” he said to the brunette with much the same falsely jovial trepidation one might display when welcoming a tax auditor into their home.
“Hey, yourself, stranger. Long time no see. Are you in town for long?” She held her wineglass against her cleavage suggestively.
He smiled without showing any teeth. “Oh, you know, all my plans are really up in the air right now.”
“Hmm. You know what else is fun to have up in the air?” Her whisper was every bit as shrill as before. “My ankles. Call me.”
Delaney let out a shocked bark of laughter as the woman sauntered away and Grant pressed a hand to his face.
“That girl used to be in my Sunday school class,” Dody said. “Wicked as a jaybird, even back then. You should stay away from that one, Grant Connelly.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Baker. I think that’s good advice.”
“Of course it’s good advice. I’m incredibly wise.” She ambled off, taffeta crinkling.
“That is good advice,” Delaney added. “In fact, there might be a whole coven of wicked women for you to keep away from.” She pointed toward the bar. “All those lovelies were just explaining to me how well they knew you. Biblically. I thought you Catholic boys behaved better than that.”
Grant turned to see the cluster of his old conquests and had the decency to blush.
“That’s . . . wow . . . sorry.”
She should probably be appalled at his sexual history, but if he was a black kettle, she was the pot, and she had the video to prove it. “You don’t have to apologize to me. I’m just the human shield between you and your family, remember? And I think I’ve done my job admirably.”
He smiled at her, with teeth. And dimples. That was a real smile. One he hadn’t shared with the ankle-waving brunette. “Yes, you have, and thanks. I appreciate it. You’ve been awesome. I think I have to do the rest of the fence-mending with my relatives on my own, though. That’s what I came over here to tell you.”
Delaney felt a sudden shift in her mood, like a balloon wilting from lost oxygen, or one of those toys where you push the bottom and the legs collapse.