How To Hook A Husband (And A Baby)

by Carolyn Zane

  The slight shake of his head was vaguely amused. “Would you trust me on this? Listen. Today is November first. You only have a month left, before you turn thirty. If you’re going to succeed in being engaged by then, you’re going to have to get aggressive, especially when it comes to a little weasel like Cecil Yates. Criminy, Wendy, he’ll never get around to making the first move,” Travis huffed knowingly. “If I leave it up to the two of you, you’ll never get anywhere.”

  Wendy shot him a beleaguered glare. “He’s not a weasel.”

  His dimples deepened as he curled his upper lip and rolled his eyes up at the clear, autumn sky. “Whatever. And since you’re not overly pushy by nature, you’re going to need my help on Wednesday night. Trust me. Some light coaching will help you relax and sail through the evening. You’ll be really glad we did this.”

  “I don’t know,” she sighed. “Most of these things are so foreign to me…blowing in his ears and whatnot. Plus…” She peeked woefully at him from under her lashes. “I know I’m not very good at the physical stuff yet.” A gentle breeze tugged at the pages of her notes and she smoothed them down with her hand.

  Yet? Travis mulled over the word in his mind, his eyes following the simple gesture of her fingertips lightly skimming the dancing paper. Oh, have mercy, what would it be like to kiss Wendy when she finally felt competent at what she called “the physical stuff”? His gut tightened and burned and he knew he couldn’t think about that. It wasn’t good for his blood pressure.

  Swallowing, he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. It was a good thing the harmless Cecil Yates would be her first real date. Travis didn’t think he could stand the thought of her getting even a tiny bit physical with another man. Since Cecil fell somewhat short in the manly category, he guessed he could tolerate the idea of a good-night kiss between the two of them. Barely.

  “Uh, you shouldn’t worry about having to make all the moves,” he informed her, a slight edge to his voice.

  “Oh?” she asked, glad that she could count on Cecil to pick up the slack. As Travis scowled at his shoes for a moment, Wendy knew he was probably thinking that after one of her bungled attempts at a good-night kiss, poor Cecil would never call again. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly and hoped that Cecil’s inexperience would be her ally. Hopefully, he wouldn’t know a good kiss from a bad one, the way Travis did.

  Taking a healthy gulp of his ice tea, Travis glanced up at her. “I guess you should just watch me and BambiAnn. Besides, once you give old Cecil the idea that you are interested, he’ll probably take the initiative.” He jangled the cubes in his glass. “What else have you got?”

  “Well…” She looked dubiously down at her pad. “There’s the one where you smile and nod, and I’m supposed to remember to laugh gaily. And the one where you wink, and I’m supposed to reach out and do something familiar, like straighten his collar or hair.” She sent a sidelong glance into the light gray pool of Travis’s eyes. He really did have beautiful eyes. Much nicer than Cecil’s small, rather dull, brown ones. “Travis, are you sure about this? Why can’t I just treat Cecil like I always do? Wouldn’t that work?”

  Travis blew an arrogant puff of air. “No.”

  “But why not? This secret signal routine just seems so complicated. Not to mention…devious.”

  Several birds twittered innocently from a tree overhead, lending to Wendy’s feelings of doubt. Poor Cecil. He was free as a birdie now. What would he make of her plans to capture him in the web of domestic tranquillity she was spinning?

  “Oh, get over it,” Travis advised, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, his empty glass cradled loosely in his hands. “What difference does it make how you get your man, as long as you get him? Listen, if you ask me, you’re doing old Cecil boy a favor. I don’t exactly see the females of New Hope beating a path to his door. If it Wasn’t for your invitation this morning, he probably wouldn’t have a thing to do all month.”

  Wendy figured Travis was probably underestimating the scholarly Cecil, but she had to agree that, in many respects, he was right about her.

  So far she’d gone nearly thirty years and had yet to succeed in catching a mate. Obviously, when it came to captivating a man’s attention, she was dropping the ball somewhere. With Travis there to guide her every step of the way with little cues, she could most likely come off as reasonably suave and sophisticated. Yes, she would exude self-confidence. She would be able to be the kind of woman an intelligent man like Cecil would be proud to call his wife. At least, she hoped so. This had to work. December first was approaching like a speeding train.

  A quick glance at her watch told her that if she was going to complete her multitude of Sunday night chores and still make it to work bright and early tomorrow morning, she’d better get a move on. Stuffing her pad and pen into her purse, she began to gather her belongings and prepared to leave.

  “Okay.” She sighed as she stood and, reaching down, affectionately stroked Dusty’s soft cheek. “I guess I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

  “Yeah. I’ll pick you up in the morning,” Travis agreed and, standing, walked her to the gate between their properties.

  “Wendy, wait!” Dustin called, rushing after her, a large, colorful lollipop—looking only vaguely taste-tested-clutched in his sticky hand. “I saved this one for you,” he said shyly, holding the candy out to her.

  “Oh, sweet potato! These are my favorite,” she crowed, taking his gift and drawing the beaming boy close. She smiled over his satiny soft, blond head at his father.

  Travis looked on indulgently. Funny how Dusty had never given anything to BambiAnn.

  * * *

  After two busy days at the post office for both Wendy and Travis, Wednesday finally arrived. During the past two days—in the few spare moments they’d managed to grab together in the back room—they practiced their secret hand signals, leaving Wendy more confused and nervous than ever. Nevertheless, Travis insisted that it would behoove her to memorize the sign language and be prepared to use it. They also discussed their possible attire options for the evening, had a few impromptu dance sessions to the statically emanated tunes from the ancient radio Travis lugged from job to job, and managed, just barely, on more than one touch-and-go occasion, to avoid each other’s lips.

  But it wasn’t easy.

  Since Wendy had never experienced a kiss like the one she shared with Travis before, she was dying to see if her memory served her correctly. To see if it was really as thrilling and wonderful as she remembered.

  Since Travis had experienced every kind of kiss before, except for the one he shared with Wendy, he was dying to see if his memory served him correctly. To see if Wendy had really spoiled him for any other woman’s kiss in the future.

  However, as much as both of them wanted to test their theories about each other’s kiss, they each privately decided that it was in their own best interest to keep the dating lessons on a platonic level. They had to stay the course and work hard if Wendy was going to achieve her goal.

  Travis hoped that he could forget the mind-bending sensations of Wendy’s kiss, and stay out of her personal life. Teaching her to kiss was one thing. Getting hung up on her was another.

  Wendy hoped—if she was lucky—that Cecil would kiss her good-night, and the wonderful, all-encompassing feeling of rapture that Travis had shown her would overtake her again. Most likely, she reasoned, it wasn’t the man who’d kept her awake all week since her kissing lesson. It had to be the kiss. And if that was the case, Cecil’s kiss would send her into orbit, too.

  So, after two days of intense rehearsal, Wendy finally felt ready for bachelor number one. And, if all went well tonight and she and Cecil really hit it off, quite possibly they would attend the Russo wedding as an engaged couple. A shiver of anticipation ran up her spine at the thought, and in a flurry of excited activity, Wendy prepared for her evening with Cecil.

  After spending the afternoon on the phone, consulting with Beth and Sue Ellen in betwe
en handing out stamps, Wendy finally decided that for this particular evening anyway, she would spread her own fashion wings. Armed with a stack of the latest glamour magazines, she headed to a local boutique after work and selected her wardrobe.

  The soft black knit dress she chose was simple, no peek a boo holes or plunging necklines. However, it draped fetchingly over her slender figure, highlighting all of her best features, and the daring slit at the side showed plenty of sheer black stocking. Her shoes were simple black high heels, lending a shapely curve to her calves.

  Once she arrived back at home, she carefully copied a hairstyle she liked from the cover of Metropolitan. Sweeping her sun blond tresses up into a loose pile of waves at her crown, she fashioned a simple knot and pulled several long, wavy strands down around her face to soften the effect. It was no floral centerpiece, but it would have to do. Some simple jewelry and light makeup were added to complete her look.

  As she stood at her bedroom mirror, just before Travis arrived to pick her up, a host of last-minute doubts assailed her and chewed at her already nervous gut.

  Oh, no! Her outfit was all wrong. She looked too plain. Heavens, she thought, wringing her hands. She should have picked up some fresh flowers for her hair. Put on some false eyelashes. Gotten a new pair of aquamarine contacts. How was she going to capture Cecil’s attention if she blended into the woodwork?

  Unfortunately, she was out of time. Travis hit the doorbell, and with what she was sure was an obligatory drop of the jaw and nod of approval, they were off to pick up Cecil and BambiAnn.

  Travis was going to choke to death.

  He wasn’t sure why, exactly. Could be the gallon of eyewatering perfume that BambiAnn had felt necessary to dab behind each and every one of her throbbing pulse points. Could be the thick haze of cigar and cigarette smoke that hung in the air of Little Joe’s Café on Wednesday night. Everyone celebrating the middle of the week. Then again, it could be the lump that had lodged in his throat the moment he’d laid eyes on Wendy as she’d opened her door to him earlier that evening.

  Lord have mercy, he thought, training his eyes on her as she preceded him through the mob at Little Joe’s, she was stunning. Somehow, she’d managed to hit her stride in the world of fashion because she looked so very…fine. Oh, yes. Damn fine indeed. She was far and away the classiest woman in the entire, standing-room-only Little Joe’s Cafe.

  However, at this point, the cause for his discomfort was irrelevant. Whatever the reason for the vicious irritant in his throat, if he didn’t get something to drink soon, he was most certainly going to cough up a lung. Whipping a handkerchief from his hip pocket, he covered his mouth and gave in to the convulsive spasms that had his eyes running and him, gasping for air. Luckily, the other three in his party had moved ahead of him through the dimly lit room and into the throng. It gave him a chance to take in some much needed oxygen and mop his streaming eyes before he caught up with them.

  “I love this band,” BambiAnn simpered as the two couples reached one of the last empty tables near the dance floor. “I just love, love, love music, don’t you?” she asked in her breathy Marilyn Monroe voice. She lowered her ample hips into the chair Travis held for her. “Ooo. I just love this place,” she declared with a tinkling giggle and a shake of her platinum blond, bubble-do.

  Wendy sighed. Perhaps she should have checked her brain at the door. Maybe then Cecil would find her as interesting as he seemed to find BambiAnn.

  “Mmm,” was all Travis was able to utter. He smiled as benignly as possible then nodded as he took the seat next to BambiAnn.

  Smile plus nod equals laugh, Wendy chanted to herself as she caught these signals from Travis in her peripheral vision. Throwing back her head, she laughed as gaily as she could muster, considering the pounding headache BambiAnn’s perfume had given her on the ride over. “Oh, yes. I love it, too,” Wendy agreed, laughing gaily once more. Man, if she didn’t get some aspirin soon, her head was going to cave in. “I love, love, love music.” Copying the effervescent BambiAnn, Wendy smiled beguilingly at Cecil and added that she loved all kinds of music, this music in particular, and loved the song that they were playing now.

  Whatever it was.

  Actually, she’d never heard it before, but she refrained from adding that tidbit. Once again, she tossed back her head and joined BambiAnn in some tinkling laughter. Although, what in the heck was so funny was beyond her. She laughed with what she prayed was carefree abandon at something Cecil was saying about how he, too, loved this song. They were all in agreement it seemed, Wendy thought, still laughing through her gritted teeth.

  At Travis’s quizzically arched brow and the slight censorious shake of his head, she stopped laughing and shrugged. What was with him? she wondered defensively. Hadn’t he just cued her to laugh gaily? And why was he blinking so rapidly at her that way? She didn’t remember rehearsing that signal.

  Cecil held her chair for her, then taking his own, settled in next to her. “Come here often?” he inquired politely after he was able to drag his eyes away from BambiAnn.

  Wendy hoped her laughter was as breathy and tinkling as BambiAnn’s. “Oh, no.” She shot a furtive glance at Travis for direction. What should she say now? Cecil must be wondering how she could love a place that she never frequented. Travis coughed a deep, racking cough.

  Hmm, Wendy mused. Travis was coughing. What did that mean again?

  Cecil smoothed his thinning, sandy blond hair back away from his high, shiny forehead. “Oh,” he said pleasantly, then glanced with concern at Travis.

  BambiAnn patted Travis on the back and snuggled close, clasping his biceps amongst her generous cleavage. “Ooo. Are you all right, sugarpie?” she breathed huskily.

  “Fine,” Travis gasped, his eyes burning and watering as BambiAnn’s perfume succeeded in laminating his throat tightly closed. Whatever she was wearing tonight, it was new and it was strong. It smelled vaguely familiar and he was reasonably sure he had something just like it in the garage that he used for killing weeds.

  Clawing at his lucky bolo tie, he unbuttoned his shirt and scratched at the tingling rash that was radiating up his neck and spreading to his face.

  A small crease furrowed between Wendy’s brows as she tried to sort out the multitude of secret signals that swirled through her brain. Travis had scratched his jaw, meaning she should ask Cecil to help her with her chair. But, that couldn’t be right. She was already sitting down. Unless…He must mean he wanted her to ask Cecil to help her with her wrap. Glancing down at her light evening cape, she thrust it out to Cecil with what she hoped was a breathy, dewy-lipped, gregarious BambiAnn-type smile.

  His answering smile was puzzled as he took it from her, examined it, complimented her on it, then handed it back.

  Okay, she decided, laughing gaily as she quickly stuffed her cape down on the floor by her feet, she’d muffed that one. No matter. By Travis’s insistent cough, she could tell it was time to move on. Let’s see… She pursed her lips in concentration. Coughing, coughing, coughing. Coughing equaled…blow in his ear.

  He wanted her to blow in Cecil’s ear? Now? Already? Tightening her grip on her chair, she stared intently at Travis. Well, she guessed so. The way he was coughing, one would think that if she didn’t blow in Cecil’s ear pretty soon, the world might end. Licking her lips, she took a covert peek at Cecil.

  He was peering thoughtfully at the small specials menu that was lodged between the salt and pepper shakers, his pointed features knitted in concentration. Travis had told her to trust him on this, but for pity’s sake, shouldn’t she work up to this moment?

  Although, maybe he had a point, she mused thoughtfully. BambiAnn was already busy nuzzling Travis’s neck and ears as he sent frantic, secret signals for her into his handkerchief.

  She gave her head a slight shake. No wonder she’d never gotten anywhere with a serious relationship, she thought self-deprecatingly. In her ignorance, she would have saved the blowing-in-the-ear thing for later. But
here she could see for herself, thanks to BambiAnn’s flamboyant demonstration, that blowing in the ear came into play right off the bat. Who’d have thought? Men were such funny creatures. Did they really enjoy having air blown into their ears? She sighed. It was all so complicated. Gathering her nerve before she could lose it, she leaned over and blew a quick puff of air into Cecil’s ear.

  Cecil glanced up from his perusal of the menu and frowned uncertainly at her.

  Uh-oh, she thought, panicking. What now? “I, uh…” She darted a help-me glance at Travis who had finally stopped coughing and was now winking uncontrollably at her. This stupid signal game would be the death of her. “Hi, there,” she breathed in her best BambiMarilyn impression, as she tried to remember what winking signified.

  “Hello,” Cecil returned nervously and dabbed at his beet red ears with his napkin.

  Wendy gnawed on her lower lip. She wasn’t exactly batting a thousand here, but she supposed these things took time. Like it or not, she would have to trust Travis and his signals. Obviously, with his dating track record, he knew what he was doing. The way BambiAnn was making a production of fawning all over him told her that much.

  The band sawed its way through one rollicking countrywestern song after another, and Wendy watched as two by two, the many patrons of Little Joe’s threaded their way around the large wooden dance floor. And, if Wendy wasn’t an absolute nervous wreck over the success of this double date, she’d most likely be delighting in the earthy Western ambience. Popular café by day, New Hope hot spot by night, the place had become a roaring success.

  Through the billowing clouds of smoke, their waiter finally appeared to take their drink orders. Wendy ordered ice tea. BambiAnn ordered a Shirley Temple. Cecil liked the sound of that and ordered the same.