Reluctant Date

by Sheila Claydon

  RELUCTANT DATE

  by

  Sheila Claydon

  ISBN: 978-1-927476-67-3

  Published By:

  Books We Love Ltd.

  (Electronic Book Publishers)

  Chestermere, Alberta, T1X 1C2

  http://bookswelove.net

  Copyright 2012 by Sheila Claydon

  Cover Art Copyright 2012 by Michelle Lee

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  Dedication and Acknowledgements

  For Michael

  Who knows Dolphin Key…

  Chapter One

  Claire pulled off her hat and shook out her hair as she glanced around the hotel foyer. There was no sign of anyone who looked like her date for the evening but she had gotten used to that. She was also resigned to the fact that a lot of the men who signed up to dating agencies seemed to have an inflated view of their own attraction. It hadn’t taken her long to realize tall and well built was a code for big and overweight and relaxed and informal was the wrong side of scruffy. She had also discovered that any reference to an unusual hobby almost always meant obsessive.

  She found a comfortable chair and settled down to wait. Fifteen minutes she would give him. After that she was out of here, the crazy challenge she’d accepted at a tedious New Year’s party over and done with.

  * * *

  “Twelve dates unless we get lucky,” Jenny had said as they pushed their way out of the cramped restroom in the over-hyped nightclub where they were celebrating.

  Claire’s partner for the evening had so little personal charisma she didn’t immediately recognize him again when she climbed the dark and treacherous stairs back up to the dance floor. Reluctantly accepting the fact that her personal life had hit an all time low, she had thrown caution to the wind and agreed to take up the challenge.

  * * *

  Jenny, who had organized their disastrous double date in a fog of depression brought on by her approaching birthday, had tried to pass some of the blame for the evening onto Claire as they washed their hands.

  “Honestly, I don’t know what else you expect,” she had shouted above the heavy drumbeat that was threatening to bring down the ceiling. “You work in a library all week and then spend most of your free time taking photographs. You’re never going to find a man that way Claire, unless he’s a complete loser that is!”

  “I know some very nice losers,” Claire replied with a grin. “Take my boss for instance.”

  Jenny rolled her eyes in disgust. “It doesn’t make him marrying material though, does it? Why else is he still living with his mother? He must be at least fifty.”

  Claire stopped thinking about John, her very nice but very eccentric boss, and stared at Jenny’s reflection in the dingy mirror. “Who says I’m looking for a husband?” she asked.

  “I do! Face it Claire. We’re both pushing twenty-seven and here we are doing the same things we were doing at seventeen. It can’t go on much longer or we’ll begin to look like a couple of real saddos.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Claire had repaired her lipstick with unnecessary energy. “I happen to like my life, and we’re not doing the same things we were doing ten years ago, well not as often anyway. I live a blameless existence most of the time. It’s only when you decide to act as my dating agency that I have any problems.”

  And that was when Jenny had come up with her plan.

  “That’s it!” she gasped. “We’ll join an Internet Dating Agency. We’ll find some real men; men who are looking for commitment just like us.”

  “I told you, I’m not looking for commitment,” sighed Claire as, with a final glance at her reflection, she directed her friend towards the doorway. “All I want is to get this evening over with so I can go home. Alone. And go to bed.”

  But Jenny wasn’t listening. “I can’t imagine why we haven’t thought of it before,” she said as they returned to their table. “After all, anything must be better than this!”

  Claire, who had already spent a large part of the evening dancing as far away from her date as she could manage, could only agree. So, as the clock ticked on to midnight, and the noise levels in the nightclub climbed several more decibels, she accepted the challenge Jenny shouted into her ear. Signing up to an Internet Dating Agency would be her New Year’s resolution.

  * * *

  That, however, had been then. Now, almost ten months later, she had just about had it. To be fair not all of the men had been bad. A couple had been okay. She had even agreed to a second date with one of them because they read the same books, liked the same music and enjoyed the same films. Smiling agreeably, she had persuaded herself that compatibility was a good enough start. When he suggested they meet for a third time, however, she had turned him down, because by then she was bored enough to know she didn’t care if she never saw him again.

  All of which had led her to the here and now, waiting for a stranger in a hotel foyer while she watched the world go by. The problem was it had worked for Jenny. On her sixth date she had met Mark and she was now four months into a blissful affair that showed every sign of long-term commitment. Unfortunately the fulfillment of her own dreams had not stopped her from worrying about Claire’s single state. If anything, it had made her worse.

  “If it can happen to me, then it can happen to you,” she insisted when they met up for a drink after work. “You’re far more attractive than me, and more intelligent. The problem is you’re not taking it seriously; and you have to unless you want to end up an embittered old spinster.”

  Claire spluttered into her wine. “Excuse me! The embittered old spinsters, as you so quaintly describe them, are today’s feisty, independent and adventurous singletons. We live in the twenty-first century now, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  But Jenny was too wrapped up in her own version of romantic bliss to listen. Wanting each new date to turn out to be Claire’s ‘Mister Right,’ she spent a lot of time trying to persuade her friend she needed to adopt a better attitude.

  Finally, thoroughly exasperated, Claire lost her temper. “I’m not what they’re expecting,” she snapped. “My profile says tall and slim which instantly translates into potential model material to most men, so when they meet a six foot Amazon with big feet they’re not impressed.”

  “Rubbish!” snapped Jenny, equally exasperated. “You’re just afraid of commitment, afraid of settling down, and so you keep looking for excuses. The reason hardly any of your dates has asked to meet up again is because they can sense that you’re not serious. To you this is just a big joke.”

  “Oh for goodness’ sake,” Claire swallowed the last of her wine and pushed back her chair in disgust. “Internet dating isn’t about men asking women out. It’s about mutual attraction; the freedom for women, as well as men, to choose. So far I haven’t met a single man I would waste a second date on, let alone give him house room!”

  “Well maybe you’re just too picky!” Jenny drained her own glass, and then went all misty eyed as Mark pushed open the door. When he saw her, his face lit up. Thoroughly irritated by her conversation with Jenny, Claire gave them both a cool nod and left them to it.

  * * *

  Now, however, waiting for her twelfth and final date, she wondered if Jenny was right. Perhaps her past experiences had made her too picky. Maybe she was waiting for something that would never happen. Maybe it was time she gave up expecting Prince Charming and began to consider the frog
s. That was assuming she wanted to consider anyone at all of course.

  Irritated with thoughts that brought back uncomfortable memories, she glanced at her watch. Seven-thirty! It was already fifteen minutes beyond her self-imposed deadline so it was time she got out of here and got on with the rest of her life. As far as she was concerned a ‘no show’ counted just as much as a flesh and blood date. Now she could retire from the Internet dating scene with her honour intact. She bundled her thick black curls back into her woollen hat and bent to retrieve her bag. When she straightened up a very tall man was standing in front of her with a look of embarrassed apology on his face.

  “Claire Harris?” he asked.

  Bemused, she nodded. This wasn’t Daniel Marchant, her date. He was too old for one thing, and too tired, and too serious. And yet, as she searched his features, she saw there was a resemblance. It was as if he were a sepia image of the real thing. He had the same eyes, the same mouth, even the same hair although it was longer. He just didn’t have the colour and animation of the photo he had posted on the agency website.

  “You’re going?” he said it as a question. He had an American accent.

  “Yes, and I don’t usually wait this long,” she replied, her tone and her expression equally frosty.

  “I don’t blame you but I would be glad if you would stay for a moment longer, so I can explain.”

  “There’s nothing to explain. We arranged to meet at seven. I was on time. You were late. End of story.”

  “Not quite I’m afraid. You see I didn’t arrange to meet you. My brother organized our date and then left a message on my voicemail, a message I have only just discovered.”

  Claire’s face flushed a dull red. It was bad enough going through this charade because of a stupid New Year’s challenge without ending up with someone who couldn’t even be bothered to organize his own dates. She drew herself up to her full height.

  “If you think that makes it better Mr Marchant then you know nothing about women. Doesn’t your brother mind acting as your, your…agent?” She bit back several of the more descriptive words that sprang to mind.

  Daniel Marchant stood his ground. “Unfortunately not! He sees it as his life’s work. He has a nice wife who is recently pregnant and I think that must be what has triggered this…uh…fiasco!”

  It was clear he considered he owed her a full explanation but, as he spoke, the expression on his face was one of weary resignation.

  “Carl is younger than me, so my ongoing single state while he settles into impending fatherhood offends his romantic view of how the world works Miss Harris. And now I’ve rejected the last of his available female friends he has obviously decided to move things up a notch. Unfortunately he did it without informing me at any point along the way.”

  His voice, as he explained the situation, was full of irritation. He also looked very tired. Claire knew she should feel sorry for him but for some unaccountable reason she suddenly wanted to laugh. Her lips twitched as she struggled to control herself.

  He gave her a sharp look. “Unlike me, you seem to find the situation amusing Miss Harris.”

  “Call me Claire, please,” she managed, before going into a paroxysm of giggles that rendered her entirely speechless for several seconds. By the time she finally calmed down Daniel Marchant had stopped glaring although he wasn’t quite ready to smile.

  “Sorry,” she said, still gasping for breath. “I’m not laughing at you. Well…not just at you! It’s me too. We’ve both let other people call the shots which, given that we are mature adults, is totally ridiculous. I’m only here because my friend challenged me to join an Internet Dating Agency. She said I needed to find a husband.”

  “And do you?”

  “You know I really don’t,” she said. “This has made me realize I’m quite happy with my life as it is, even if I am in a bit of a rut. Perhaps I’ll just change my job instead, or book an exotic holiday or something.”

  He smiled then. “A much safer bet Claire Harris.”

  She grinned at him, hoisted her bag onto her shoulder, and held out her hand. “This has been my best date bar none. As well as making me laugh it has made me see sense. I don’t want a husband. I don’t even want a date. I should never have listened to my friend.”

  His smile grew wider. “Now that we have established neither of us is remotely interested in marriage, or even dating, how about joining me for a meal? I can’t guarantee that I’ll be good company because jet lag is bound to kick in shortly. I would like to make up for my brother’s crass behaviour though, if you’ll let me.”

  “Won’t that just encourage him?” Claire was still chuckling.

  “Not if I don’t tell him, it won’t. Come on. Let’s see what the hotel bistro has to offer. I’m afraid I’m not up to anything more exciting than that this evening.”

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, crammed into an alcove designed for people with much shorter legs, Daniel Marchant raised a glass of red wine to his mouth with a wry smile.

  “Here’s to the single life.”

  Claire laughed as she picked up her own glass. “Now we’ve established that we don’t need to impress one another, I want to know exactly how long ago that photo of you was taken.”

  He looked confused for a moment until he realized she was referring to the photo on the Dating Agency web site. Then he gave a resigned shrug. “As I didn’t know I’d signed up until half an hour ago, I haven’t looked at my profile. I would guess it flatters me though.”

  “You had shorter hair,” she told him. “And you were very tanned.”

  “If I was laughing and wearing the sort of white T-shirt that had me looking like an all American college boy, then I’ll kill myself!”

  She grinned as she gave a slow nod. “Will I get to watch?”

  “No, because on second thoughts I think I’d rather kill my brother! That photo is at least eight years old.”

  “He was only following the rules. I haven’t met anybody yet who looks like his photo, well not much like it anyway. One guy even went from shoulder length curls to shaved head in the interval between initial contact and our meeting.”

  Daniel gave her a quizzical look. “What about you?”

  “I submitted the best one I had. You know, full make-up, the works, but it did look like me…at least I think it did. Maybe once my dates saw me in the flesh they were disappointed too.”

  “I doubt that very much,” he said, and the way he looked at her as he lifted his glass to his lips brought a sudden flush of colour to Claire’s normally pale face.

  At that moment the waiter arrived with a laden tray. By the time he had unloaded it she had persuaded herself that the brief flash of admiration she had seen in Daniel Marchant’s eyes was a figment of her imagination. She had also persuaded herself to ignore the fact that they were a deep brown with long lashes, and were set wide apart under straight brows.

  She shook away a fluttery feeling stirring deep inside her. A feeling that seemed to have been ignited by his level gaze, and by the husky drawl of his voice. Anxious to distract herself, she asked him about his jet lag.

  He shrugged, cutting into his steak. “It goes with the job,” he said. Then, before Claire could question him further, he began to ask her about her own life.

  * * *

  They were halfway through coffee before Daniel Marchant’s increasingly stifled yawns prompted Claire to glance at her watch. With an exclamation of horror she drained her cup and pushed back her chair. She had been keeping him from his bed for hours.

  “I’m so sorry!” she said, gathering up her bag. “I didn’t realize it was this late. You should have reminded me about the jet lag.”

  He stood up too, and helped her into her coat. “You’ve done me a favour by keeping me awake. With any luck I’ll sleep through until early morning now.”

  Claire gave him a doubtful smile. She knew he was just being polite. How could she have been so thoughtless? It wasn’t as if he ha
d actually wanted to have dinner with her in the first place. She held out her hand.

  “Thank you for the meal. I really enjoyed it. Don’t be too hard on your brother either. He’s just looking out for you.”

  Although he smiled at her, he made no attempt to take her hand. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe just this once I’ll let him off the hook because I’ve enjoyed myself too. Now let’s see if someone at reception can rustle up a taxi for you.”

  “Don’t be silly. It’s only a couple of stops on the bus.”

  “Nonsense! It’s dark and it’s raining, and even though we are reluctant dates I still need to make sure you get home safely.”

  Her eyes widened. Looks, manners, and now chivalry. Too taken aback to argue she let him shepherd her towards the foyer, and then waited obediently while he organized a taxi. Within moments the doorman indicated that one had arrived. Minutes later she was being driven through streets slick with rain, her hurried thanks to Daniel Marchant a fading memory.

  * * *

  Daniel leaned wearily against the elevator as it carried him upwards. Why now? Why her?

  If Carl hadn’t interfered he would have remained perfectly content with his life and with his hard won equilibrium. It had taken him years to get there. Years of family trauma, and years of running an organization that held little interest for him so college fees and medical bills could be paid. He had found a way, too, of balancing his own interests with the need to earn sufficient money to keep the family afloat. He had also persuaded himself that a single and single-minded life was a necessary state if he was to achieve everything he wanted. And now, Claire!

  One look into her cool gray eyes was all it had taken. That, and her infectious laughter! It had only gotten worse when he noticed the luminosity of her pale skin, the shots of violet in her cloud of black curls, and the long, long legs encased in tight jeans. Without wanting to he had found himself falling deeper and deeper into the hole where he had once had a heart. And getting to know her better hadn’t helped. All that had done was open up the ache of loneliness he had hidden from himself for a very long time.