The Secret Lives of Housewives by Joan Elizabeth Lloyd Page B

“That’s not the first question that came to my mind.”
    â€œI’m sure it wasn’t, but I thought I’d get it out of the way. You?”
    â€œNo. Like you, never was and maybe never will be. Why not?”
    â€œNot what?”
    â€œMarried. I can’t imagine it was from lack of opportunity.” Oops. That says I’ve noticed how gorgeous you are. Now we’ll hear some come-on stuff like “can’t find the right woman.”
    â€œIt’s just difficult for me to make time for the dating scene so I’m content to let it go for now.”
    â€œYou sound like a busy man. What do you do?”
    â€œI maintain large networks and computer systems for a major Internet service provider. I’ve got a sizeable staff but if I’m not at some site around the country, I’m online.”
    Well, stereotype number one down the drain. He’s obviously got brains beneath that gorgeous gift wrap. Okay. Make conversation. Keep it light and distant. “Sounds like it takes up most of your time. What brings you out here this evening?”
    â€œI decided, like you did, to shut down my computer and chuck the whole thing for an hour. I need the space to clear my head. How about you? What do you do?”
    â€œI’m with C & B. That’s an advertising agency.”
    â€œI know. Conroy and Bates. One of the biggies. Account exec?”
    Surprised that he hadn’t assumed she was a secretary, she nodded. Well, secretaries couldn’t afford town houses in this development without family money, so she guessed his was a logical assumption. Still, she was reluctant to admit how high up in the food chain she was. “Lots of pressure.”
    Dan sat up and reached down to the concrete beside him. “I brought a pitcher of lemonade and an extra glass. Can I offer you some?”
    Over a few glasses of lemonade they talked about everything from sports, about which Monica knew very little, to politics, about which they both knew a lot.
    At one point a boy of around seven ran ahead of his mother through the gate, into the pool area. “Hey, Dan, where’s Trevor?” the boy asked with a bright smile.
    â€œHe and his sisters are off on vacation.” Dan reached out and ruffled the boy’s hair. To Monica he said, “My sister’s kids. Trevor’s seven, Marly is nine, and Alexa is ten.”
    The boy’s face dropped. “Oh yeah. He told me last week.” Then he brightened. “Will you come in and play with me? I brought my beach ball. We could play volleyball in the big pool.”
    Dan turned to Monica. “We bat the ball around sometimes.” His gaze returned to the boy. “Sorry, sport. I’m talking to this nice lady.” Dan raised his eyebrow at the boy, who turned to her with sparkling blue eyes. “Hi. I’m Cameron.” He extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
    â€œNice to meet you, too, Cameron. I’m Monica.” They shook.
    A man of about thirty in a red Speedo came through the gate leading a boy of about three, followed by a woman wearing a terry robe over a demure one-piece black swim suit, pushing a stroller. “Hi, Dan,” the woman said. “Don’t let Cameron bother you.”
    â€œHe’s not. Monica, these are the Pascoes, Rob and his wife Serena. They’re close friends of my sister and her husband.”
    â€œThis is Brad,” she said, indicating the three-year-old, “and this is Mark.”
    â€œHe’s still a baby,” Cameron said, “and so far he’s okay.”
    â€œHow is their vacation going?” Rob asked.
    â€œSince I haven’t heard from them, I assume it’s going fine. If everything goes as planned, they’ll be back on Saturday.”
    â€œSay hi if you hear from them before we do.” The man turned to his son. “Come on, Cameron, and don’t bother Mr. Crosby.”
    â€œHe’s not