Waiting to Exhale Read Online Free PDF Page A

drink?" he asked. "Where you sitting?"
    I'd never seen anybody smile and talk at the same time, but he was doing it. "Well, I'm not sitting anywhere in particular, and sure, I'll have a glass of wine." I looked down and took a quick breath.
    "White or red?"
    I was thrilled he had sense enough to ask. "White Zinfandel. Thanks."
    "Be right back," he said. "Don't move."
    I had no intention of moving, and I could tell right off the bat that there was something different about this man. First of all, he was polite and clearly articulate. Plus, he was the only one in here who wasn't wearing a suit. He had on faded blue jeans, and I don't think I've ever seen a man look so good in a white shirt. I watched him walk away, and he moved like a man who was sure of himself. Like he knew his own power. And I swear, if I wasn't mistaken, it seemed as if a clearing was made for him to pass right on through. I already liked his style.
    I was trying not to fidget, and I needed a cigarette about now, but instead I reached inside my purse and got out two Tic Tacs, popped them into my mouth, and started sucking real fast. Then, so as not to look nervous, lost, or bewildered, I pretended I was looking for somebody. I was still concentrating on finding this invisible person when Lionel came back.
    "Looking for somebody?" he asked.
    "No. I thought I saw somebody I knew, but I didn't."
    "You sure look beautiful tonight," he said, and I thought I would go right through the floor. I blushed and said the softest thank you known to mankind.
    "Would you like to join me at my table?"
    "Sure," I said, and followed him. There were a few more obvious couples and three empty chairs. We sat down, and I put my purse in my lap and let it lean up against my stomach, then I crossed my arms in front of it.
    "So," he said. "How long have you been in Denver?"
    "Three years."
    "Do you like it here?"
    "It's okay, but I'm moving to Phoenix at the end of February."
    "Phoenix? Why Phoenix?"
    "Well, I got a better job offer."
    "What kind of work do you do?"
    "For the last three years I've been doing PR for the gas company, and technically I'll be doing the same thing, except at a television station."
    "Interesting," he said, while nodding his head in slow motion. "Not many of us out there, is it?"
    "Not many of us in Denver, either, but that didn't stop us from coming, right?"
    "You've got a point. Well, I hear Arizona's beautiful. You sure you can take that heat?"
    "Let me put it this way. I'd rather be too hot than too cold any day."
    He started laughing. I didn't think that what I'd just said was all that funny, but I started laughing too, like a fool. I was about to ask Lionel exactly what he did for a living, since he had mentioned something about starting some new business ventures, but I decided to wait. I hate asking men that question right off the bat, because I'm sure they're probably thinking that you're just trying to figure out how much money they make, not that it doesn't matter. The main reason I usually ask is because what a person does for a living tells me something about them.
    "So did you make your New Year's resolution?" he asked.
    "I did," I said, and took a sip of my wine.
    "Are you gonna keep it?"
    "I'm working on one of them right now," I said.
    "Are you giving up something?"
    "It depends."
    Then both of us started laughing.
    "How about you?" I asked. "Did you make one?"
    "I make affirmations," he said. "Every single day."
    Just then, Billy Ocean's "Caribbean Queen" came on. I used to love to dance to that song.
    "Would you like to dance?" he asked.
    "Yes," I said, and got up. We squeezed our way onto the dance floor, and for forty-one, this man could still dance. His movements were strong and smooth, fluid, and I kept looking at those athletic hips and thighs, imagining how hairy and tight they probably were, and what a dream he must be in bed. He smiled at me through three more songs and looked me in the eye until I thought mine were just about