Mom: I did, because there is no organ more susceptible to trickery, subterfuge, or sabotage than the heart. Embrace it, treat it as something precious, and be very wary of it.
I tuck the phone away in my purse. I am so very wary of hearts.
24LULU
Today’s starting point?
Washington Square Park.
As I walk under the arch, I pass three team members from Frodo’s as they engage in tree poses and practice mantras.
“I visualize myself on a beach, soaking in the warm rays.”
“I see myself walking along the streets of Paris.”
“I’m on a golf course, nailing a hole in one.”
Damn, the prospect of winning a vacation is some kind of powerful lure.
Granted, I have nothing against tropical beaches or fabulous foreign cities, but I’ve never been a give-me-vacation-or-give-me-death kind of girl.
There are other things I want though.
Maybe I ought to practice visualizing what I want.
I’m kissing Leo again. I’m tackling him, rolling around with him, and taking him home. He’s sliding inside me, kissing my neck, and making me—
SCREECH.
What the hell?
When did I become the dirtiest bird when it came to that man?
When you mauled him in front of a Klimt, you dodo.
Oh, well, that would do it.
I had mega sex dreams about Leo last night. They were utterly delicious, and I regret nothing.
Not a damn thing.
A man clears his throat, and I glance in the direction of the scoffer. The Finger-Licking-Good Guy. He nods at the collection of Frodo employees, rolling his eyes. “You know where I see myself?”
“Where’s that?”
The man sighs majestically and spreads his arms. “In my La-Z-Boy, watching a game.”
I give him a thumbs-up. “Squad goals,” I say, using Leo’s words from the chocolate show.
His brow knits. “Hey, listen. You’re the lady who fell in the fountain, aren’t you?”
“Just call me Chocolate-Covered Lulu.”
“Listen, sorry about that. I was the one running the booth that day, and I couldn’t believe that happened.”
I flash back to the fountain incident. This affable fellow hardly seems like the guy who accused Leo of rolling around in his fountain, but indeed he is. “You know what they say. Chocolate fountain incidents are a little unbelievable. Did you ever get the tipper you were looking for?”
“Alas, I didn’t catch the scofflaw.”
“Dammit,” I say. “We could try to track him down. Put up a wanted poster perhaps?”
“Oh, he’s already on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted. The search will go on.”
“Never give up. Never surrender.”
He laughs then smiles again. “So, about that day. I was kind of frenzied and frustrated because of some stuff going on at home with the babies—”
“Babies? As in multiple?”
“The wife had triplets six months ago.”
My eyes bulge. “I can’t imagine. No wonder she wants you to have time off. But is everything okay with them? How are they doing? What sort of stuff is going on? Do you need more caffeine?”
“I always need more caffeine. My little Helena is colicky. She’s been crying like crazy, and Emma, that’s my wife—she’s having a hard time with it.”
“I have to imagine she is.” Then I smile because . . . babies. There are definitely stars in my eyes. “Can I see pictures?”
A surprised smile comes my way. “Yeah. Are you sure?”
