Up to Date

by Susan Hatler

  “But I don’t have any professional training and Jill’s starting the bidding at five hundred bucks.” I brushed by a familiar woman wearing a long purple gown, who I was pretty sure I’d seen on TV. An anchor woman maybe? The entire population of Sacramento seemed to have turned out for this event. Wow.

  “You worry too much, Ginger.” She squeezed my arm, then leaned toward my ear as we trailed behind the guys who were heading toward our VIP table. “So, what do you think of Trenton? I was dying to ask you all through dinner.”

  I glanced over at my date, who was chatting away with Paul. Trenton looked studiously handsome with rimless glasses that complimented his intelligent demeanor. He wore an obviously expensive suit, had impeccable manners, and hadn’t come close to a strike yet. “He’s . . . nice.”

  “Nice? That’s the best you’ve got?” She made an incredulous sound. “Trenton was named one of Sacramento’s top ten most desirable bachelors in the latest issue of Sacramento Living magazine.”

  I raised a brow. “Yeah, but what number was he?”

  Kaitlin burst out laughing at my joke.

  Paul stopped at our table, swiveled, then slipped his arm around her. “What did I miss?”

  “Nothing,” I interjected, shaking my head. Here I was on a date with Mr. Top Ten Sacramento and all I could come up with to describe him was “nice.” What was wrong with me? “I’m going to excuse myself and get a drink.”

  “I’ll join you.” Trenton stepped up beside me and together we strolled to the bar where he ordered us each a glass of wine. Then he surveyed the sea of people in the room. “Appears to be a successful fundraiser. Paul says you donated to the silent auction?”

  “Oh, yes . . .” My cheeks heated. “Decorating services. I’m not certified or anything, though.”

  “Some of the most successful people in the world don’t even have a college degree.” He adjusted the glasses on his nose. “Where is your bidding sheet? My office could use a facelift. At least, that’s what my ex kept telling me.”

  An awkward silence followed, so I took a sip of wine. Had he seriously just brought up his ex on our first date? Should that count as a strike? Where was an umpire when I needed one?

  Deciding it had to have been an innocent comment, I asked, “When did you two break up?”

  He touched my bare shoulder. “Months ago. That’s old news. Trust me.”

  His hand felt awkward against my skin and I found myself wishing I’d worn a dress with sleeves. Plus, he was peering at me in such a scrutinizing way that something compelled me to ask, “Why did you two break up?”

  “We’d been together a couple years and she was ready to settle down and start a family.” He laid a hand over the silk tie on his chest. “Rochelle’s a sweet woman, but I’m only thirty-two. My business has just taken off. Now is not the time to be focusing on a family. Plus, Rochelle’s a supermodel and she just released her own perfume: Only Rochelle. Children would kill her career.”

  What the . . .? His ex was Rochelle Richards?

  “I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” I said, trying not to freak that his ex was a supermodel. Seriously, if I’m in the photo, then my friends have to take five shots just to get one with my eyes open. Sad, but true.

  “Old news,” Trenton repeated, then snaked his arm around me. “Let’s take a look at your auction sheet so I can place my bid. One thing I will say is that Rochelle had impeccable taste in interior design.”

  I sucked in a breath, suddenly feeling bad for Rochelle. Shouldn’t he have made the kid thing clear before she’d invested two years into him? That’s why I’d cut things off with Greg right way. It’s not right to lead someone on. . . .

  Argh! Now was not the time to be thinking about Greg Shaffer again. Hello? I was on a date with Mr. Top Ten Sacramento.

  I waved a hand toward midway down the tables. “My donation is number one hundred eighty-three. Maybe around that area.”

  His mouth stretched into a sexy grin. “Let’s check it out.”

  “Okay.” My belly squeezed in terror. What if nobody bid on the auction? What if they hated the “before” and “after” photos of my living room? Well, they could bite me because I loved it. But I didn’t want to let down Jill and all of the people she was trying to help. Besides, art was mental therapy for me. What if rejection ruined my muse and—

  “Three bids already.” Trenton ran his finger down the auction sheet, then stopped at the bottom where he scribbled his bid. “Make that four.”

  “Oh, my . . .” I peeked down at the bid sheet to make sure he’d read correctly. “You bid a thousand dollars.”

  He set the pen back down. “It’s for charity and it’s a write-off, right?”

  “True,” I said, marveling at the fact that my services were going to bring Founding Friendships a grand. Awesome.

  Suddenly the lyrics from One Republic’s “Good Life” belted out from the speakers. Lights shimmered across the wooden floor as Jill Parnell, head of Founding Friendships, stepped onto the stage holding a microphone. This could really be a good life, good life.

  Trenton and I hurried back to our table, which was located right by the stage, then clapping thundered across the room.

  “Thank you for being here tonight. For all of your support . . .” Jill began, then gave a brief overview of Founding Friendships and an emotional account of the woman they were helping, Beth, who’d been alone on the streets two months ago after she’d left her abusive husband.

  Tears filled my eyes and I placed a hand over my chest, so honored to be a part of this event. Near the stage, I spotted Jill’s boyfriend, Ryan Shaw, who watched Jill with a look of pride. Then my gaze drifted to the man standing next to Ryan. . . .

  My breath caught in my throat and I gripped the table as I dropped into my seat. Sandy-brown hair. Broad chest. And almond-brown eyes that made me think of a warm, summer night. Greg Shaffer.

  His gaze met mine and held. The corner of his mouth turned up and a hot rush of lightening shot through me. Gulp.

  Chapter Two

  “Can you believe Ellen is due in six weeks?” Kaitlin laced her arm through mine as we strolled past the silent auction tables so I could check on my donation sheet and she could put her final bids on the day spa packages she had her eye on. “You’re going to her baby shower, right? A week from Sunday?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.” I glanced over at our friend and co-worker—yes, we worked at one of those offices where you knew and loved (almost) everyone—whose belly ballooned into her hubby as they slow-danced to the eighties hit, “Reunited” by Peaches and Herb. This happened to be the same song that Greg and I had danced to last month, because that’s just how my luck was going tonight.

  “Ginger . . . is everything all right?”

  “Not exactly.” It had been hard enough trying to get Greg off my mind when he was in San Diego. Now that I knew he was in the very same room as me it’s like he’d been tattooed on my brain. “Can you keep a secret?”

  “Absolutely.” She traced an X across her heart with her index finger, then leaned closer. “Spill.”

  I took a deep breath, needing to confide in my friend before I lost my mind. “There’s this guy . . .”

  “Of course there is.” She made an “I knew it” face. “Not a problem with Trenton, I hope?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Good.” She paused to run her finger down a bid list, then moved on. “I totally see you two together. He’s smart and sexy. You’re exuberant and sweet. A perfect match.”

  “I’m pretty sure he’s not over his old girlfriend,” I said, thinking that any decent ump would’ve called a strike on Trenton after the repeated ex-talk. But maybe I was being too critical.

  “According to Paul, they’re way over.” Kaitlin stopped to check another spa package halfway down the auction tables, placed a higher bid, then turned her attention back to me. “Is this guy problem you’re having with Victor? You’re way too good for him, Gin
ger. He stood you up so many times. It physically pained me watching you give him chance after chance. You deserve way better.”

  “Ugh. Why does everyone keep bringing up Victor?” I glanced back at the bid sheet, thinking I could really use a day at the spa to chill me out. But I’d used my credit card so much lately it should’ve melted. Sigh. Ooh, the spa package was number one hundred and eighty so my donation sheet must be coming up. “My problem’s not him, it’s—”

  While still ogling the spa display, I sauntered forward and collided with a broad (muscular) chest. Warm hands wrapped around my elbows. “Are you all right?” a male asked.

  Chills vibrated through me at the familiar voice. Biting my lip, I lifted my gaze. Almond-brown eyes confirmed I’d barreled into Greg, who peered down at me in a way that had my tummy doing successive flips. “H-Hi,” I stumbled.

  Smooth, Ginger. Very smooth.

  His mouth curved upward “Hi, yourself.”

  “Ginger, I—” Kaitlin paused mid-sentence, her gaze flipping from me to Greg then back to me again. “I, um, am just going to check on my last bid. Yeah, that’s what I’m going to do . . .”

  I gave her a look, begging her not to leave me, but clearly she’d failed eye-language class because she gave me a thumbs up sign before skittering off.

  Um, hello? Totally inappropriate gesture when I was on a date with the friend she had set me up with. Sheesh. Taking a deep breath, I turned back to Greg and willed the butterflies in my belly to chill.

  No such luck.

  “Are you in town for the weekend?” I asked, as every ounce of my being felt the heat from his skin where he still held my arms.

  With a faint squeeze, he released me as a woman slipped between him and the table to scribble on a bid sheet. Greg checked the paper she’d written on, then he turned back to me. “I’m in town permanently, actually. I was offered a position at the hospital where I interviewed last month—the day we met. I just bought my own place.”

  In. Town. Permanently. Yikes!

  I swallowed. “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.” He glanced over my shoulder. “You’re here with your boyfriend?”

  “Me?” I followed his gaze to where Trenton sat next to Paul. They seemed deep in conversation—likely about stocks or some other equally tranquilizing financial discussion. Snooze. “Trenton’s not my boyfriend. He’s a blind date.”

  “How’s that going?”

  I twisted my long hair around my finger. “The same as most first dates. Awkward.”

  Except nothing had been awkward with Greg the first night we’d met. He’d come to the dance club with Ryan and, after dancing together all night, Greg and I had gone to a diner to spend more time together . . . which was when I’d discovered he was an emergency room doctor, just like my dad. As if on cue, painful memories from my childhood flooded my mind. Dad’s drinking. My parents arguing. Me having to run at night just to escape the chaos. . . .

  “Ginger? Everything okay?”

  My gaze flicked up to Greg’s, and his worried expression made my chest tighten. “Fine. I should probably get back to my table, though.”

  His eyes searched mine as if trying to peer deep into my soul. “If that’s what you need.”

  What I needed was to get far away from him. The ache I’d felt after our last good-bye had increased exponentially now that I’d seen him again. We had incredible chemistry. I could see us dating. Maybe even more than dating. But I didn’t want a future with an over-stressed, over-worked E.R. doctor whose dream was a houseful of kids he’d rarely see. And I wasn’t a girl who indulged in flings just for the fun of it. Although part of me begged to reconsider my stance in this case. . . .

  “Well, it was nice seeing you again.” I forced a smile, then compulsively touched his arm lightly. An unwise idea as the feel of his muscles had my stomach bouncing again.

  “You, too.” His jaw tightened and a small crease formed between his brows as I turned and walked away.

  I hid out at my table with my date the rest of the night. Trenton even managed conversation that had nothing to do with his fabulous ex. Unfortunately, it had everything to do with the stock market, which magically turned my eyelids to lead. When I slipped out of the event early, I’d thankfully avoided running into Greg again. The only downside was I didn’t stay long enough to see who had won my auction.

  ****

  “I need ten diapers.” Rachel sped down the shopping aisle, leaving Kaitlin and me hurrying after her. We were already a quarter of the way into our lunch hour and still had quite a bit of shopping to do for Ellen’s baby shower.

  “Let me get this straight.” I pushed the shopping cart forward, then jumped onto the bar above the wheels and quickly caught up to Rach. “You’re going to heat up ten different candy bars onto ten diapers then make us eat them and guess which candy bar we munched on? Aren’t diapers flammable?”

  Rach stopped short, her eyes widening. “You think? I’d hate to blow up Ellen’s microwave during her baby shower. Talk about a party stopper.”

  Kaitlin lifted a box of diapers from the shelf and placed them in the cart. “Just heat the candy bars on a plate first, then scoop them onto the diapers. Problem solved.”

  The image of melted brown chocolate in the center of a diaper left a disturbing visual in my mind. “That’s just gross.”

  “It’s supposed to be cute.” Rach’s expression turned panicky for a moment before she gestured to the paper in her hand. “Whatever. Ellen requested the game and you know how she’ll get if we veer off her list. We’re doing it.”

  Our friend Ellen Holbrook gave new meaning to the term “Type A.” She was super organized, meticulous, and freaked if plans went awry. If we wanted to keep the mom-to-be a happy camper, straying from her list would be most unwise.

  I giggled. “Looks like we’re all eating pretend poo.”

  “Can’t we just sniff it?” Kaitlin wrinkled her nose. “Think of what we have to look forward to in our future, ladies. Real poopy diapers. Ick.”

  Rach gazed down at her list. “Not excited about that.”

  “I’m not having kids.” An unexpected wave of sadness washed through me as I stated it aloud. “Not that I have anyone to reproduce with at the moment, anyway.”

  Warm, brown eyes flashed in my mind. The corners of his eyes crinkling as his mouth lifted into a smile as if he were happy to see me. . . .

  Rachel’s head snapped up. “You don’t want kids? Ever?”

  I shook my head, clearing thoughts of Greg away. “The suggestion terrifies me.” I grabbed the list from Rach. “Next up are fifty rolls of toilet paper.”

  “Ah, the diapering game.” Kaitlin took over pushing the cart as we speed-walked toward the proper section. “This one doesn’t involve a microwave, so we’re safe.”

  I laughed, but stopped short at the look Rach was giving me. “What?”

  She shook her head. “Sorry, I just totally pictured you having kids. It’s none of my business.”

  “What do you mean it’s none of your business?” Kaitlin made a right turn, then started yanking packages of toilet paper from the shelf. “We’re all friends. If we can’t speak our minds, then what’s the point?”

  I suppressed a smile. Not long ago, we’d had trouble getting Kaitlin to express what she thought. She’d been raised to portray her life as neat and perfect even during the times when it spun out of control. Like mine seemed to be doing now with Greg-on-the-brain and the boring career I’d chosen. Oh, joy.

  “It’s totally normal to freak about bringing a child into this world.” Kaitlin dropped the final package into the cart then placed a hand over her chest. “The mere thought that I could turn into my mother is enough to scare me into celibacy. But I definitely want to have a family with Paul. Eventually.”

  My throat tightened.

  Kaitlin nudged me with her elbow. “I heard you’re going on a second date with Trenton. Wouldn’t you like to procreate, some day, with one o
f Sacramento’s most eligible bachelors?”

  “Not even a little bit,” I said, honestly. Truthfully, I was still debating whether or not Trenton had struck out and I’d been too much of a wuss to make the call. “He seems too business oriented for my taste.”

  Kaitlin seemed thoughtful for a moment. “Well, what are you looking for in a guy?”

  “Someone who has time for me,” I said, immediately. My dad had never made time for me. He’d been too busy working and drinking. “The right guy would definitely have to make healthy life choices. He would be financially responsible, but also know how to balance in fun.”

  Both of my friends stopped walking, giving me their full attention.

  I raised a shoulder. “My ideal guy would be there for me, just like I’d be there for him too. If such a man even exists . . .”

  Rach’s eyes turned misty. “That’s what I used to wonder before I found Noah. Don’t worry. He’s out there and you’ll find him. Maybe it’s just a matter of timing.”

  “Or maybe your guy is Trenton and he just hasn’t shown you his fun side yet.” Kaitlin’s tone felt overly optimistic. “It took me awhile to realize Paul was the one for me.”

  “Yeah, I remember.” I laughed, thinking back to when I’d offered to paint the interior of Kaitlin’s house if she’d start dating again. Maybe I just needed to keep putting myself out there even when it felt awkward. I was glad, then, that I’d agreed to go on date number two with Trenton. “What’s next on the list, Rach?”

  “Safety pins and blue ribbon, then we’re home free.” She threw us a woeful look. “Until Ellen makes additions to the list, that is.”

  Kaitlin and I both giggled.

  Rach and Ellen had been best friends for years and their relationship reminded me of an old married couple. Ups and downs and all arounds, but they still seemed like a family. See? It’s not like I needed to have kids of my own. I could dote on my friends’ munchkins and they would feel like family. I could be Auntie Ginger and spoil them rotten.