The DIY Groom

by Lori Wilde

  “He’s only doing it for a young woman,” Sue said.

  “That so?”

  “Sort of,” Zack mumbled.

  Lunch was good. Marsh behaved, which in his case meant eating his fish and not giving any advice, business or personal, to either of them. His mother finished her salad and had to hurry off for a meeting.

  “Good news, Zack,” the old man said when she was gone. “I’m setting you up with my golf buddy’s granddaughter.”

  “I’m seeing someone.”

  “Which I still find hard to believe. Besides, you’re not married, are you?”

  “Of course not, but—”

  “I’ve been working on this a long time, and I’m getting tired of waiting for you to get married. At least Cole had initiative. Can’t hurt you to have dinner with the girl.” He smiled smugly, in itself suspicious.

  “Marsh, I appreciate all your efforts—”

  “Good, it’s all set for tomorrow night. I’m not so sure that television woman is keen on you. She seems pretty cold on-air.”

  Zack would’ve said hot was a better word for Megan’s attitude, especially when she’d slammed the Home Stop cart into the backs of his ankles, which, fortunately, were protected by work boots. Not to mention when she tried to cook the family jewels in hot milk.

  “I’m doing you a favor. You know, I’m a pretty good judge of character. I liked Tess right away. Your brother did well for himself. Anyway, plan to bring the TV girl to family dinner sometime soon.”

  He really wouldn’t wanted to parade Megan in front of his grandfather while she was still mad enough to spit nails. Maybe the blind date would give them both some breathing space. He didn’t even want to think about the next show they’d have to do together.

  “Okay, I’ll go,” he reluctantly agreed.

  “Good. I have reservations for the two of you at a nice cozy restaurant. It’s my treat.”

  Zack groaned inwardly. Life just kept getting better and better.

  It was Saturday night.

  Megan was in the shower when the phone rang, but she rushed out in a towel, dripping water on the floor, to check the answering machine. Hope sprang eternal. Maybe her blind date had called to say he was canceling.

  “Hi, sweetheart. This is Grandpa. Just wanted to remind you to wear something pretty for your date. You’re gonna have a good time tonight.”

  “Aah.”

  Wasn’t it enough her grandfather had coaxed and wheedled until she reluctantly agreed to meet his friend’s hotshot grandson?

  Did he have to call to make sure she wouldn’t back out?

  Men. With Jason, Ed, and her granddad in her life, she didn’t need more aggravation. If she did, there was Bailey waiting in the wings to drive her crazy. She still couldn’t believe he’d raced home from work and tried to hide in bed to avoid doing the last show.

  She was meeting this latest mystery man at the Kingston in Royal Oak. Her grandfather had even made the reservation. She’d never been there, but he made it sound like a trendy upscale restaurant.

  She hadn’t allowed much time to dress, on the theory that the last-minute rush would propel her out the door before cold feet paralyzed her.

  What to wear? A sack over her head was choice number one, but she grabbed her never-wrinkle little black dress, austere enough for funerals with a boat neck, short cap sleeves, and a modest hem only slightly above her knees.

  With dangly silver earrings, it gave her an I-didn’t-fuss look.

  Why didn’t her grandfather believe her when she’d told him she was dating someone already? He’d swept aside her objections and insisted she meet tonight’s so-called perfect-for-her man.

  Her only consolation was that her date might be as reluctant as she was. If so, they’d have a quick dinner and go their separate ways.

  She hoped.

  What did she know about this guy? His grandfather was sort of a stuffed shirt, according to hers. They were golfing cronies because they’d been paired up by chance in a seniors’ golf tournament several years ago and had finished in second place. Now they practiced together, hoping for a win some year.

  She purposely got to the Kingston a little late, at a few minutes past six. Usually she thought it was rude, but she hoped to get a glimpse of her date while there was still time to run.

  They were supposed to meet at a table reserved in her grandfather’s name. She was surprised they didn’t have to wear red carnations or carry blue balloons. It was embarrassing to have a grandfather arranging things for her.

  Shuddering, she tried to imagine whom her grandfather called perfect for her. Fat chance of that.

  She peered past the maître d’s podium, pretty sure she’d recognize her date. He’d be the two-headed, four-clawed, fire-breathing geek sitting alone in the darkest corner. She could depend on her loving grandfather to pick ’em.

  There was one consolation. As the price of getting her to this date, Grandad had sworn never to set her up with anyone again.

  As if she believed the former king of used car salesmen.

  “I have a reservation,” she told the officious host. “George Peters.”

  “Yes, miss.” The way he grinned, he must be in on the joke.

  He led her through an elegant dining room with white linens, subdued lighting, candles glowing on the tables, and gilt mirrors in discreet locations. She glanced nervously in all directions, but the maître d’ didn’t stop.

  Behind the main room, there was a maze of small, intimate rooms with three or four tables each. Most were empty at this unfashionably early hour, probably another part of the grandfather conspiracy—no distractions.

  Great. She wouldn’t even have the security of a crowded restaurant.

  “Your table, miss.”

  She braced herself for the blind date from hell and saw the profile of a dark-haired man in a navy blazer at the rear of the cozy room.

  Oh, no, oh, no…it couldn’t be…

  It was.

  Zack stood and looked as surprised as she felt.

  “What are you doing here?” she gasped.

  “Your grandfather is the hotshot senior golfer?” he asked.

  “Yours is the stuffed shirt?”

  “Yep, fits the description,” he admitted ruefully.

  “What are we going to do?” And why did she feel so panicky?

  “Eat dinner,” he suggested mildly. “What else?”

  She slid onto the chair across from him.

  “I’m actually relieved. If you’re the prize Marsh has been raving about, it will be easier to get him off my back. He’s been pretty skeptical about us. Judging by the shows, he didn’t think we were too thrilled with each other.”

  “Very perceptive of him,” she said dryly.

  “So, we’ll have dinner, give glowing reports on the date, and make the old boys happy—for a while.”

  “The old meddlers. My grandfather sounded too sure of himself when he said you were perfect for me. I should have known—this is his kind of trick,” she said.

  “It would serve them right if we left now.”

  “Maybe we should be cagey about it. Let them think their scheme was brilliant so they’ll back off.”

  “Of course, we need some ground rules for this so-called date,” he said. “Not a word about the fiasco at the Home Stop.”

  “Amen to that. But it did have a cute finale.”

  Some women had tried to rip off his T-shirt as she and Zack were leaving the store.

  “I especially don’t want to hear a word about my fans,” he said, scowling.

  “Not from me, you won’t.” She batted her eyes with fake coquettishness. “But I don’t want any more suggestions from you on how the show should be done. Not now, not ever.”

  “You had to get in a dig about that. I had in mind going to a real renovation site and doing some actual work.”

  He looked as annoyed as she felt.

  “So, this is what we aren’t going to discuss. By th
e way, I’ll buy my own dinner.”

  She hadn’t seen the menu, but the trappings shouted big check.

  “No need to.”

  “Yes, I insist.”

  “Then call your grandfather. The conspirators took care of it in advance.”

  “That’s awful. They are so manipulative, so…”

  “Yeah, all that and more. How about we order, enjoy the food, then get out of here?” He turned his attention to the menu.

  “Fine.”

  Her opinion of blind dates dropped a few more notches. They started by talking about the weather and ordered shrimp cocktails.

  Zack told anecdotes about being a child model, and she had him in stitches telling some of her Little Daisy Girls mishaps.

  Her salmon in orange sauce was sinfully delicious, and he ate his stuffed pork chop with relish. He moved on to college exploits, and she made him laugh at Jason’s little ploys to get his own way.

  “Thanks for not asking questions,” he said.

  “Like what?”

  Several other couples had been ushered into the small dining room, but it was still a cozy room that encouraged confidences—a great place for a real date. They were waiting for coffee after passing on dessert.

  “You know, some women aren’t happy unless they’re messing with your mind. The twin thing, my father and stepfather, growing up with a tyrant like Marsh—I’ve come to terms with all of it and don’t want to spread it out for anyone’s entertainment. I love my life now except for Marsh pressing me to get married.”

  “That’s nice.” She was so full she was sleepy.

  “Most guys hate that psychobabble stuff.”

  “Most women hate replays of football games.”

  He grinned. “Did I do that?”

  “Only in passing.”

  Their coffee came, and he waited until the server left to reach over and lay his hand on top of hers.

  “I have to admit, this wasn’t such a bad blind date.”

  “Best my grandfather has done. You don’t even drool.”

  She lifted her cup and sipped the scalding coffee cautiously as his mellow expression radically changed. His face was easy to read, his brows mobile. His eyes seemed to change color with his mood, and she saw a flash of anger.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Don’t look toward the door,” he warned.

  “What—”

  “Play along with me, okay? The over-the-hill cupids are spying on us. Couldn’t be content with meddling from a distance. They had to see the results firsthand.”

  “They’re out there? Both of them?”

  “That’s my guess. I recognize mine. The other one is wearing a bow tie.”

  She groaned but concealed it with a fake smile. No one but her grandfather still wore little bow ties he tied himself.

  Zack stood, keeping his back to the arched opening.

  “Come here,” he said in a sexy way that was anything but subtle.

  Her eyes darted around the room, but none of the other diners were paying any attention to them.

  Against her better judgment, she slowly stood and put her hand in his outstretched one. She saw it coming, but his kiss nearly knocked her off her feet. She clutched him to keep her balance and found herself in the circle of his arms, being kissed with tornado force.

  Wow. She swallowed hard before he did it again, this time giving her a chance to kiss him back—well, maybe a little.

  “Peek around me and see if they’re getting an eyeful.”

  She did. There were two gray heads standing sentinel like matching gargoyles on either edge of the door.

  “Still there.” She giggled.

  “Let’s shock the socks off them,” he whispered close to her ear.

  “Okay.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and slid his hands provocatively low, coming to rest at the end of her spine. She tensed, tingled, and flushed with embarrassment.

  “It’s a public place,” she mumbled. “They’ve seen enough.”

  “Have they?” He was grinning. “Let’s give them something to talk about the next time they hit the links. They’ll be so busy patting themselves on the back they’ll set a club record for hitting the ball out of bounds.”

  Her ear tickled from his amused whispers.

  “You have to fake it,” she insisted. “No more of that—that…”

  “Like this?” His lips brushed hers.

  “Yes— No—”

  How could tiny little kisses make the back of her neck vibrate?

  She should stop him, but he was sapping her will to resist. He nibbled her lower lip and pulled her closer.

  “No,” she moaned, but there wasn’t enough conviction in her voice to slow him down.

  “You taste better than dessert,” he teased, trailing the hard tips of his fingers over her throat.

  “Let me see if they’re still watching.”

  Seeing around Zack took some cooperation from him.

  “They are.” So were a couple of curious diners.

  “Sure they are,” he said.

  He lowered his head and really kissed her—really, really kissed her.

  “Enough,” she said, trying to catch her breath.

  “One more for the road.”

  As if he knew what button to push, he started rubbing her shoulders and back in a slow, sensual rhythm.

  She loved the man’s hands on her shoulders, and she shuddered with pleasure even before his mouth covered hers.

  He teased her lips apart with his tongue and kissed her until she saw pinpricks of light inside her closed lids.

  “That’s really enough,” she said breathlessly.

  “Okay, you can finish your coffee now.”

  “I should think so.” She had a hard time sounding indignant when every nerve ending in her body was humming with contentment.

  They sat again, eyes not meeting, with not much to say.

  Zack tried to give their server a gratuity when the man returned, but he adamantly refused.

  “It’s all taken care of, sir.”

  “I can afford to buy you dinner,” Zack grumbled when the waiter left. “The business was touch and go for a while, but we have all the work we can handle now. I don’t like my grandfather’s charity.”

  She couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t really happening. Bailey, the bane of her existence, was looking more handsome than he ever had—and on a bad day, he was a candidate for hunk of the month on anyone’s calendar. It was definitely time to break up the party.

  “That should convince them their services are no longer needed,” he said.

  “I hope they’re through matchmaking,” she said, standing to leave. “Thank you for the nice dinner.”

  “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “It was my pleasure.”

  He walked her to the parking lot along a walkway with strings of lights hanging overhead. Her little compact looked like a lost orphan lined up with all the expensive cars and sport utility vehicles, but she never let chrome intimidate her.

  “Well, guess I’ll see you Wednesday,” she said, then instantly regretted ending the evening on a sour note.

  “I’ll follow you home, make sure you get there okay.”

  “You don’t need to bother.”

  “No bother. I just had some work done on my Mustang. I’d like to drive it awhile to check it out.” He gestured at a car in the next row that was old enough to be collectible.

  “No, really, Zack, it’s not necessary.”

  He held her car door while she belted up and started the engine.

  “I don’t intend to invite myself in,” he said. “Just want to make sure you get home all right.”

  On the way, she tried to shake him. She made turns without signaling, drove slow enough to make any man seethe with impatience, and changed lanes wherever there was traffic to block him.

  He managed to stick like glue even though it was a cloudy, moonless night. When she pulled into her
parking slot on the basement level in the back of her building, he was right behind her. Her landlord would love the way Zack’s front bumper kissed her back one as though he was trying to crowd into her slot.

  “Lousy security in your building,” he said, getting out and stretching lazily while she gathered her purse and locked the car.

  “Not so bad that I’m not perfectly safe going up to my place alone. Good night, Zack.”

  “What does your landlord use here, thirty-watt bulbs?”

  She started walking toward the door that went past the laundry room, then up two flights to her landing.

  “Concrete steps and open iron handrails,” he said. “This place is a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

  “Bailey, go home.” She turned to block his way.

  “You probably think I followed you home for an overnight. Well, sweetheart, you are dead wrong. I just feel responsible for seeing you safely to your door.”

  “Fine.” She ran up the remaining steps and stopped in front of her door, house key protruding between her fingers in the defensive way she’d read about in a woman’s magazine.

  “You are nervous about this place, but your chance of hurting an intruder with a key is about as good as knocking him over with a feather duster.”

  He was right, but the smirk on his face annoyed her to no end.

  “I’m here. You’ve been chivalrous and all that. Thank you and good night.” She unlocked her door.

  “Good night,” he murmured.

  The way he said it made her turn and look at him. He was grinning, but not in his usual sardonic way.

  She felt she should say something instead of standing there letting him look at her in that puzzling way.

  “I do appreciate your help in getting my grandfather off my case. He’s obsessed with finding someone for me to marry,” she said.

  “And you’re not ready?”

  “Not yet. I have my career…” She didn’t want to go there with the man who was turning Do It Herself into the parade-of-the-manly-chest fiasco.

  “Think we convinced them?” He smiled broadly and made it hard to remember she hated him.

  “I guess.”

  “Guess? I thought we were pretty convincing. I’ll probably get a lecture about what a gentleman does and does not do in a public place.”