by Lori Wilde
“You’re not eating.”
“Oh, yeah.” He unwrapped his sandwich, wondering why he was no longer hungry. It’d been six hours since he grabbed a bowl of cereal for breakfast, and he was usually famished by noon. But around Tess, his appetite for food seemed to vanish as another wholly different appetite rumbled inside him.
Good grief, he wasn’t attracted to Tess, was he?
The thought was novel but not unwelcomed. But it felt odd thinking about his old high school buddy like that.
“I’ll show you my list,” he said after swallowing a bite. He had to stand to get the folded yellow notepaper from his jeans’ pocket.
Frowning, she watched him so closely he almost checked to see if he was unzipped.
“Making a list seems pretty silly,” he grumbled, took a huge bite of sausage and roll, vigorously chewing to mask his discomfort.
“Not silly at all. I have some women in mind. I just need your list to rule people out.”
“You’re pretty efficient.”
Her cheeks pinked up, and he remembered how much he used to enjoy teasing her just to see her blush. She picked up one of the paper napkins and scrubbed at her mouth, removing the last trace of lipstick.
“Did I get all the mustard?” she asked.
“All but a tiny dab here.” He tweaked the end of her nose.
“I didn’t get any on my nose.”
“Are you absolutely sure of that?”
“Not without a mirror,” she admitted and wiped her hands on a napkin. “Okay, let’s see that list.”
“Don’t laugh,” he cautioned.
“Don’t worry. I lost my sense of humor when you dazzled me with your pool hall prowess.”
He handed over the list written in his dark scrawl with a thick-leaded carpenter’s pencil. He was starting to worry about his requirements.
She looked it over. Clucked her tongue. “Am I reading right? Number four says inexperienced?”
“Maybe a poor word choice.” He felt six inches high.
“No, I get your meaning. You want to be able to teach her a thing or two in the bedroom.”
“Not exactly.” He choked on a bit of sandwich and coughed.
“Chew your food,” she said without looking up from the list. “Are you sure you didn’t copy this from a medieval handbook for wife hunting?”
“You’re not making this easy on me,” he mumbled.
“Sorry. We both want this to be over. Number nine is nice—family-oriented. For the record, I adore my family, especially Erika and Erin.”
“Your nieces, right?”
“Yeah.” When she smiled genuinely, her entire face lit up. “Here’s a practical one. She needs to share your love of the outdoors. Good job.”
“I’m glad you approve.” He tossed his half-finished sandwich into the nearby waste bin.
“There’s a couple of my friends who check off most of your boxes.”
“Who?”
“First, let me see if any of my friends are even interested in meeting you.”
“I don’t want a perfect woman. Someone like you would be fine.”
“Thanks a lot...I think.” Whether from the heat of the day or internal combustion, her cheeks were glowing sunburn-red.
“I didn’t mean it as an insult.” Dang, he’d made her squirm. He chugged his root beer. “By someone like you, I meant a nice, attractive woman with interests of her own and not a whole lot of dating experience.”
“That assumption is insulting. How do you know I haven’t dated multitudes of men since you knew me?”
“I don’t know. Sorry.” A guy does know, he thought. “Why are you making this so complicated?”
“I have too many possibilities on my list—friends, sisters of friends, cousins of friends, friends of friends, customers, friends of customers, relatives of...”
He laughed. “That narrows it down to all the eligible women in the greater Detroit area.”
“Not quite, but I have a dozen prospects. I’ll mull it over, then let you know.” She stood and brushed crumbs from the lap of her short, swingy, flowered skirt, causing him to notice those spectacular legs again.
With that, she was gone, swishing her way back to Tikes and leaving him feeling put solidly in his place.
Back at the store, instead of working on the next week’s work schedule as she should been doing, she laid Cole’s list and hers side by side on her office desk.
She flipped the paper and put her own name at the bottom of the list in tiny, barely legible script. Startled at what she’d done, Tess stabbed the paper with the pen point and scribbled, obliterating her name.
What was she doing? Had she lost her ever-loving mind? She should just go back on her promise and tell him he was on his own.
But Tess wasn’t built that way. She’d made a bet, and she’d lost. She said she’d set him up, and she would. But why was he so gung-ho to have her play matchmaker when he didn’t have the slightest bit of trouble getting any single woman he wanted? She didn’t buy his excuse about not finding nice women on his own. Whatever “nice” meant.
The landline rang.
“Tikes, how may I help you?” she automatically answered.
“Ms. Tess Morgan?” The woman spoke with diligently cultivated culture.
“This is she.” She couldn’t say, “Yeah, it’s me,” to this voice.
“This is Dorothea Danzig, Mr. Marsh Bailey’s personal assistant. Mr. Bailey would be honored if you would attend a reception to launch the new catalog this Saturday evening.”
“Huh?”
The woman repeated herself.
“Who, me?” So much for outclassing the classy voice on the other end of the line.
“Yes, you.”
“Why?”
“You are the owner of Tikes?”
“That is correct.” Ha, there, she’d sounded as hoity-toity as the other woman.
“Cocktails from six to eight in the Windsor Room of the Sherman Arms Hotel, then dinner at eight. May I add your name to the guest list, Ms. Morgan? Mr. Bailey will provide transportation, of course.”
“I’d be very pleased to attend.” Did that sound all right, or was there a little wheeze in pleased?
“Splendid. Your limo will be there at five thirty p.m., if you’ll be so kind as to give me your home address.”
Limo? Home address? Yes, she had one. She gave her address to the woman. Woo-hoo,
she was gonna ride in a limo.
“You may, of course, bring an escort if you like. I believe you’re a friend of Mr. Bailey’s grandson, but it’s completely optional whether you choose to invite anyone or not. By the way, the event is black tie.”
Black tie? Holy cow, what was she going to wear? Tess repeated the date and time to make she had it right, scribbling them on the margin of her list.
The woman hung up, leaving Tess wondering why she’d been invited.
Was it because she’d liked the portable whisk-away potty? Or because she’d nixed the lime-green high chair? More likely, Cole’s grandfather was using her to try and control his grandson.
The Bailey men were leading her on a flimsy rope bridge over very sticky quicksand. She could only pray her common sense was an adequate safety net.
Then again, nothing said she had to play the game. She could call the woman back and rescind her acceptance of the invitation.
But here was the kicker.
She wanted to go.
Getting dates for Cole proved as easy as finding a free cat.
Friday night was a snap. Tess had gotten reacquainted with a classmate, Jordan Collins, who’d recently moved back to the area. She was on the skinny side, but Cole hadn’t made a point about size or shape.
“I had a huge crush on Cole in high school,” Jordan admitted when Tess called her that evening after work. “But didn’t everyone? He was so adorable in a naughty sort of way.”
For sure. He still was.
Saturday was even easier to bo
She didn’t have a free minute to tackle her most serious problem until Friday. What should she wear to a reception at the Sherman Arms?
Tess took a long lunch break and roamed the stores in the Shops at Rockstone, deciding she really couldn’t afford five hundred dollars for a midnight-blue evening gown shimmering with a touch of deep violet, even though it made her look thin and feel like glamour personified.
After work she resorted to desperate measures—she went to see her sister.
Karen agreed to loan anything she owned in exchange for Tess keeping Erika and Erin overnight sometime soon so she and Duke could relive their wedding night at Martino’s Resort and Spa.
“You don’t know what pleasure is until you bask in one of their heart-shaped hot tubs,” Karen enthused.
“I can’t decide which dress to wear,” Tess said, trying not to imagine Cole rising up in a cloud of mist and leading her to a bed covered in black satin sheets. “I’ll have to take some home.”
“Come back tomorrow. It isn’t as if Royal Oak is as far away as the moon.”
“Can’t. Have to work in the morning. Then get my hair done.”
“Do a French twist. You look great in a French twist.”
“Maybe.” It was a good idea, but if she gave her big sister any encouragement, Karen would want to choose everything from eye shadow to nail polish.
Later that evening, Tess still hadn’t decided what to wear. Five of Karen’s best dresses were spread out on her bed, and she’d just taken off a sixth when the door buzzer sounded.
She slipped into a short pink robe and hoped she didn’t have a visitor who expected to come inside.
Why was she not surprised to see Cole’s image in her spy hole? Was this part of his ritual, reporting to her on the state of each date?
She opened the door a crack.
“I’m not dressed.”
“I don’t mind.” He sounded cheerful.
“Good or bad date?”
“Maybe a few suggestions for next time.”
“Come on in.” She led him to the living room and couldn’t help feeling he was staring at her backside. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking. She plopped down on the couch, making sure to keep the hem of her robe pulled as low as it would go. “So, Jordan…?”
“I thought she was going to attack me with a steak knife. Got any popcorn?”
“Oh, dear. What happened?”
“Long story.”
“Let me put some popcorn in the microwave. You’re kidding about the knife, right?” She padded to the kitchen. He followed.
“I took her to a steakhouse. She doesn’t eat meat.”
“You should have asked if she was a vegetarian before you picked the restaurant.” She put the popcorn in the microwave, conscious of Cole hovering near her elbow.
“She doesn’t wear leather. She doesn’t step on bugs, and she only eats salad made with produce that comes with six different labels guaranteeing no chemicals were used in producing it. She made the waiter bring an empty bag from the kitchen. The lettuce flunked.”
“It’s smart to be careful about what you put in your body.” Tess felt defensive. After all, he was the one insisting she find dates for him. Could she help it if there were no perfect women?
“I have no problem with vegetarians, but when she starts lecturing me on my lifestyle choices, it’s a turn-off. Who wants to be with someone who won’t let me be me?”
“There is something to be said about cutting down on the consumption of animal products.”
“I agree.” He paused. “That was never an issue. The issue was the way she said it. Like she was right no matter what, and if you didn’t agree with her, you were beneath contempt.”
The popcorn bag inflated, and she tried to guess the moment when the kernels were through exploding but not yet scorched. “Why do you want popcorn if you’re stuffed with prime beef?”
“I didn’t get to eat it. There’s more.”
“It gets worse?”
“Jordan likes to purify herself through abstinence—no drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, chocolate...”
“Good for her. She sounds smart.”
“No sex.”
“Oh? Shouldn’t you be happy about that? You wanted a ‘nice’ woman.”
“No sex, period.” He looked grim. “She’s celibate.”
“Come on, you’re making that up.”
“Except, of course, we do have to consider the future of the human race, so a weekend schedule is acceptable— after marriage, of course.” He started pacing, hands hooked in his pockets. “That is an exact quote.”
Tess tapped her chin with an index finger. “Jordan was pretty intense in high school, now that I think about it. She made straight As and volunteered as a candy striper at the hospital. Now she is vice president of a big insurance company.”
“She probably spends her days denying payment for medically necessary treatment. I won’t go into her healthcare theories except to say they involve a lot of meditation and goat’s milk. She has naturally curly hair and…she weighs ninety pounds with her pockets full of nails.” He slumped down into a kitchen chair.
“Maybe you’re making snap judgments because you really don’t want any blind dates.” She stood over him feeling like a prosecutor with a guilty defendant. “Have you ever thought about that?”
“Untrue. And I’m not being picky. I can’t have a long-term relationship with a woman who calls me a ‘Jack the Ripper of sweet-faced bovines.’”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not. She really did call me a serial cattle killer, and she was pointing a steak knife at me when she said it.”
“Sorry. She just moved back here. I haven’t been around her in years.”
“Not your fault. Blind dates suck.”
“Everyone hates blind dates.”
“Women, too?”
“I’d rather have my eyelashes plucked out one by one.” She took the popcorn out of the microwave.
“There is one more small point for future reference. Maybe you could find me a more—let’s say substantial woman.”
“As in well-endowed?”
“I wouldn’t argue with that, but I mean someone more down-to-earth, someone who doesn’t mind taking in a calorie or two.”
“You’re not being nice. Jordan had a tremendous crush on you in high school.”
“I bet she’s over that now.” He nonchalantly stuffed a handful of popcorn in his mouth.
“You are such a—”
“Guy?”
There was that.
“That’s why I liked you. You didn’t get all giggly over me. It was great having a girl as just a friend.”
Friend-zoned. Again.
Tess snorted, but he was too busy munching popcorn to notice. She wandered into her living room, belatedly wishing she’d closed the bedroom door. The bed was easily visible and loaded with her sister’s clothes so that it looked like a rummage sale.
“Packing to go somewhere?” He followed her, glancing curiously through the open door.
“No, trying to decide what to wear.”
“Another wedding?” He licked his buttery fingers. “Do you need a plus one?”
“Thankfully, no. It’s just a party. At the Sherwood Arms, so I probably should dress up.”
“Who are you going with?”
“Feel free to ask me anything.”
“If you’re ashamed of him...”
“There is no him. It’s just a party. I can invite someone if I like, but when do I have time to concentrate on my love life? Yours is a full-time job. Now, if you’ve had enough snack food...”
Her phone rang just as she was gearing up to tell him what she really thought about his hunt for a woman.
“Excuse me,” she said. “I need to take this.”
He nodded. “Go ahead.”
She answered and listened while Margo happily explained how she and Rick had reconciled. Tess walked as far from Cole as she could, short of barricading herself in the bathroom.
“Sure, I understand,” she said into the phone. “I’m delighted for you, but I have someone here.”
“A guy?” Margo squealed.
“I’ll fill you in tomorrow.” She switched off the phone and dropped it on the bed.
“Your date canceled,” she told Cole.
“For tomorrow night?”
“Of course, for tomorrow night. You may be booked until Christmas for all I know, but Margo is the only one who would call me to cancel your date.”
He licked his upper lip, giving her a glimpse of his sexy tongue. “That means...”
“Cole, I cannot find another date for you by tomorrow.”
“No need. I have something else in mind.”
“In that case...” She took his arm, hoping to propel him toward the door.
“Now I’m free to go to your shindig tomorrow night.” Cole had a teasing glint in his eyes.
“You don’t mean...”
“You said you need a date.”
“I said I could bring one, not that I needed to bring one.”
“It’s the least I can do after all the trouble you’ve gone to for me.”
“You consider tagging along with me a reward?”
“Ouch.” He clutched his heart with his hands and pretended he was hurt. “I was just trying to pay you back for a stuffed animal fanatic.”
“Don’t forget, you picked her.”
“Ah, but the armed and dangerous vegan is all on you.”
“My job was to get you dates. I did that.”
“True.”
“Five more. I only have to find you five more.”
“What time should I pick you up?” he said, changing the subject.
She had a revelation. She could see the cartoon image of an angel on her right shoulder and a devil on the left. After a very brief struggle, the guy in red won. “It will work better if you meet me at the Sherman Arms Hotel. Be in the lobby at six thirty.”
No way was she going to let him see the limo his grandfather was sending for her.
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