Читать книгу Make Me a Match - Alice Sharpe, Alice Sharpe - Страница 11

Lora stored the bouquet she’d take to Dr. Reed’s later in the big walk-in refrigerator, taking a second to inhale deeply. As always, the cold, flowery air cleared her mind as it filled her lungs. So many flowers, so many choices, and the order she was filling simply gave a price range—the selection and composition was up to her.

As she arranged heavy copper roses with dark purple iris, lemon colored freesia and glossy magnolia leaves, she watched her mother and grandmother out of the corner of her eye and for the first time, had doubts about what she was doing.

They looked so…content.

Grandma Ella with her wispy white hair and rosy cheeks was dusting everything in sight, concentrating especially, it seemed to Lora, on items by the front door. No doubt Grandma had arranged some semiaccidental meeting between Lora and a friend’s grandson and was looking for him even now. Groan.

Lora’s mother, on the other hand, was busy helping a middle-aged man pick out the flowers for a bouquet to be wrapped in cellophane. At fifty, Angela Gifford was a tall, slender woman with glossy black hair barely brushed with gray, cut to ride atop her shoulders. She was by far the best of the three with customers, knowing when to help and when to back off. Grandma Ella tended to talk people to death and Lora had what her mother called “patience issues.”

A few hours later they all drove home together, Lora at the wheel, the iris and daffodil arrangement secure in the rack in the far back, Grandma Ella chatting away about her friend’s grandson.

Once inside the house, Lora broke her big news. “I have a job for two weeks,” she informed them as she counted and fed her fish. All present and accounted for. Her denizens of the deep had survived another day.

“I’ll be gone in the early evening until morning, I’m helping out an older guy who just had foot surgery. I’ll still come into work, of course, and the money I make will fix up the van. One of you two is going to have to feed my fish.”

Grandma Ella made tsking sounds deep in her throat. For years, Lora had tried to emulate these sounds as they seemed to come in quite useful in a variety of circumstances, but she just couldn’t get them right. Grandma said it was because she didn’t have enough bosom. Lora looked down at her chest. The fact that she wore an oversized sweater didn’t help much, but maybe Grandma was right.

The tsking faded away and Grandma said, “I invited a young man over for dessert tonight, Lora. Oh, that’s right, you were off making deliveries when he came in. You might want to comb your hair and change your clothes.”

Lora’s mom opened the refrigerator and took out a foil wrapped package of leftovers. No matter where she lived or with whom, Angela Gifford was a true cook, the kind who roasted a turkey and fixed all the trimmings for just two people, who got giddy if a friend presented her with a freshly caught crab.

“Chicken enchiladas okay with everyone for dinner?” Without waiting for an answer, she added, “I don’t know, Mother, I thought the boy looked a little young.”

This comment got Lora’s attention. “How young?”

“Angela, when you get to be seventy-one, everyone looks young,” Grandma Ella insisted.

“How much younger?” Lora asked warily.

Grandma shrugged plump shoulders. “I don’t know.”

“Six years if a day,” Lora’s mother said firmly.

Aghast, Lora blurted out, “Six years! I’m almost twenty-five years old! What’s wrong, have you gone through every twenty-something male you know so now you want me to date teenagers?”

“I never noticed this age prejudice in you before,” her grandmother tsked. “Besides, your mother is exaggerating.”

Lora felt a scream coming on.

Lora’s Mom shook her head. “Lora’s right, he’s too young.”

Lora said, “Thank you, Mom.” At last, reason.

“I want grandchildren,” her mother continued. “What kind of money can a teenager earn unless he’s a dot-com genius or in a rock band? Enough to support a family? I don’t think so.”

“Pauline assures me her godson has potential,” Grandma Ella insisted.

Lora’s mom clicked her tongue. “So does the new barber across the street and he’s got his own business.”

“Owning a barbershop is good,” Grandma said. “No matter what happens, men will always need someone to cut their hair because there’s not a one of them that can do a decent job of it himself unless he shaves his head. Okay, we’ll just feed this boy some strawberry shortcake and shoo him on his way.”

Angela nodded. “Good. By the way, Lora, I met the barber face-to-face this morning. His name is Michael. He’s just delightful and listen to this—he asked about you!”

With renewed clarity, Lora knew that something had to give and it wasn’t going to be her. She no longer cared that her mother and grandmother seemed happy in their matchmaking schemes—these women needed a different diversion than Lora’s love life and what better diversion than a love life of their own!

She was back on track.

She said, “Grandma, I’m not going to be here for dinner or desert.”

“But how will that look?”

Leaning over her grandmother and kissing her soft hair, she said, “Sweetie, it doesn’t really matter how it looks.” She assumed a stern expression and added, “I’ve repeatedly told you guys that for the time being, I’ve sworn off men. As for marriage and babies, just forget it. A woman isn’t defined in the old ways anymore.”

“But being part of a team is truly wonderful,” Angela said with a sappy glow in her eyes. “A woman needs a man, honey. Sure, there are hard times, and I know Calvin hurt you when he ran off to Chicago. Trust me, I know about hurt. But that shouldn’t sour you on all men.”

Lora was speechless. Her mother’s faith in the opposite sex, no matter how many times she’d been proven wrong, was astounding.

“Just stay and have dessert,” Grandma Ella added as she hulled strawberries. “After this, I promise, no teenagers.”

“I need to go out to the greenhouse,” she said, gesturing at the cloudy glass structure in her backyard. “I’ll lock up after myself out there and water in the mornings on my way to work. And don’t forget to feed my fish.” All this was said as Lora scribbled Dr. Reed’s name and phone number on a scrap of paper and shoved it into her mother’s hands. An hour later, greenhouse chores complete and overnight bag packed, she pulled out of the driveway just as a kid in a red convertible pulled in.

Victor Reed lived in a sprawling split-level house on the outskirts of town. The huge yard was beautifully designed with towering trees and lush foliage, including masses of late-blooming rhododendrons, but everything was overgrown. Lora guessed that Dr. Reed’s wife had been in charge of the upkeep.

Her mother was a gardening wizard!

Two cats, one gray and white and the other coal-black, sat on the front porch, smack in front of the door. A riot of barking ensued at the sound of Lora’s knock. She tried the knob. Two large dogs charged outside as the two cats darted inside. Lora juggled her suitcase and the flower arrangement as the dogs sniffed and wagged.

She had to yell. “Hello?”

“Back here,” Dr. Reed called.

The big yellow dogs came back inside with Lora. A third dog came charging down the hallway—this one shaggy and about the size of a toaster oven. After a noncommittal growl, he licked her suitcase.

The same sense of good taste gone to seed permeated the house. Apparently, Dr. Reed had let the whole shebang get away from him. Well, she had a cure for that, didn’t she? Over the weekend, she’d get her mother to come over to help weed and casually introduce her to Dr. Reed. They’d stare into each other’s eyes. Mom would see an older man with laugh lines and a gentle heart and Dr. Reed would see an attractive middle-aged woman with great legs and a ready smile. The scenario played itself out in Lora’s head.

All that was left was to find grandma a match!

The dogs led Lora to a smallish room with dark leather furniture and shelf upon shelf of books. A big desk sat in one corner, but Dr. Reed was sprawled on a recliner, his bandaged foot out in front, a blanket thrown over the rest of him. A different cat, this one pure white, slept on his lap. His crutches were on the floor beside his chair and a muted television flashed light into the room.

“You came just in time,” Dr. Reed said. “I’m about to starve to death. Maybe you could order us a pizza.”

“Or maybe I could just fix something,” Lora said.

“Jess did the shopping. All she bought was real food.”

“Real food?”

“As opposed to the stuff you can throw in the microwave. Can you cook?”

Stepping over the dogs that had settled on the rug, she put his flowers on the desk and dumped her suitcase out of the way. “Can I cook?” she scoffed. “Point the way to your kitchen.”

Dr. Reed’s sister had indeed stocked the refrigerator and within half an hour, Lora had stir-fried shrimp and asparagus and cooked a pot of jasmine rice. She made a tray for the both of them and took it back to the den. All the animals had settled close to Dr. Reed. In unison, they looked up as the aroma of food wafted across the room.

“Kick them out into the backyard,” he said as she set the tray on a low table. “Just shake the treat jar by the back door, they’ll come running. Don’t worry, the yard is fenced. Boy, I’m sure glad you’re used to animals.”

Not those who actually had feet, she thought. Sure enough, the furry critters showed up with the first rattle of their treat jar. By the time she returned to the den, Dr. Reed was in the process of spearing a shrimp. “Who knew you could cook like this?” he said after tasting it. “You’re so young.”

“My mother taught me,” Lora said. “She’s a great cook. It’s incredible she’s kept her figure.”

“She sounds like an amazing woman.”

“Oh, she is,” Lora gushed.

He smiled at her and they chatted while they ate. She discovered he’d been widowed for several years, that all his pets were former patients their owners had abandoned in one way or another and that he had a delightful attitude about life. In other words, he was the total opposite of her father. Lora beamed. Her mother was going to love this guy.

Lora felt so at home that when the doorbell rang she jumped up without waiting for Dr. Reed to ask her to get it. Through the glass panel, she could see Jon Woods standing on the porch, a duffel bag in his hand, an impatient look on his face.

What was he doing here?

She had half a mind to pretend no one was home, but that was stupid, he could see the Lora Dunes Florist van out front. That duffel bag was ominous, however, so steeling herself against his disdain, she opened the door.

“Where are the dogs?” he said.

What a greeting! It was obvious he was still suspicious of her. Lora smiled and said, “I poisoned them and buried them in the backyard. Want to see?”

He groaned and shook his head.

Had she really known him for just this one day, and how had he gone from being so nice to being so annoyed in such a short time?

Was it because she wasn’t trying to make him like her? If so, it was obvious her own true personality wasn’t exactly magic when it came to the opposite sex. The blasted sweater probably didn’t help much, either. She vowed to get rid of it. Dating or not, a girl had her pride.

“What can I do for you?” she asked him.

“Not a thing,” he said, and walked right past her into the house. His familiarity with the place was evident in the way he went directly to the den. Lora closed the door and followed him. He looked good from the back, his body strong and tall, his shoulders broad. He wore faded jeans and a black T-shirt and cross trainers on his feet. He had a way of walking that looked masculine and physically fit. That walk reminded her of Calvin. He walked the same way, with a subdued bounce, full of confidence, full of sass. Full of himself.

Dr. Reed greeted Jon with genuine warmth. “It’s a shame you missed dinner,” he said.

“I stopped off for a sandwich,” John told him. “Where are the dogs?”

“In the backyard. Lora has a way with them. Well, it’s too bad you ate. I think it only fair that as Lora got here first, she gets dibs on which bedroom she wants.”

“You knew he was coming?” Lora asked.

“Of course. After you left today, Jon pointed out how much more useful he would be with some of the more personal aspects of my care, like bathing.”

Though this was undoubtedly true, Lora glared at Jon.

“Happy to be of help,” Jon said. His voice was nothing but sincere, but the challenging scowl he leveled at Lora said it all. “In fact, Victor,” he added, “why don’t we let Lora go home? I’m sure she has better things to do than hang around with a couple of veterinarians.”

Lora came close to punching him.

“Absolutely not,” Dr. Reed said just in time. “Lora and I made a deal. Besides, her mother taught her to cook. Imagine, asparagus and shrimp with ginger and garlic—well, she’s a whiz. She even wants to weed the garden this Sunday. You’ll be glad she’s around during the long evenings when I’m out like a light by eight o”clock.”

“I’m an excellent conversationalist,” Lora said in an attempt to goad Jon. “And I play a mean game of strip poker.”

Jon didn’t crack.

Chuckling, Dr. Reed said, “See? Isn’t she cute? Lora, I think it’s time to let the dogs and cats back inside for the night. Jon, how about getting me a pain pill and helping me to bed?”

As Jon assisted Dr. Reed, Lora fumed and fussed her way back into the kitchen with a platter of dirty dishes and a bad temper. Jon was up to something, that much was clear. He didn’t trust her, that’s why he was really here.

Why should he trust you? a niggling voice chirped in the back of her mind.

“Oh, shut up!” she snarled.

The animals were all begging at the door. They came inside in one big whoosh, tails wagging, snouts nuzzling, bodies coiling around her legs.

It was startling being surrounded by so many critters! And, truth be known, a little comforting. Tropical fish didn’t interact a lot and never when actually outside of their aquarium, of course, so this was all new. The white cat rubbed against Lora’s shoe and Lora reached down and picked it up. The cat regarded her with a raspy purr and adoring blue eyes. Hard to believe she and Boggle belonged to the same species.

“The fact is,” she whispered into the cat’s ear, “I’m sneakier than Jon. I also have a lofty goal to fuel my fire—true love. Well, the possibility of true love, at least. Plus, I need to get those meddlesome females out of my life before they marry me off to the unsuspecting barber across the street. Or a teenager,” she added with a shudder. “With all that going for me, why should I be worried about what Jon thinks or what Jon wants or even that he seems determined to interfere with my plans?”

The cat kneaded her claws and purred. If that wasn’t a resounding vote of confidence, what was?

“The cat’s deaf,” Jon said from the doorway.

Startled, Lora twirled to face him. “What?”

“Frosty is deaf. White cats with blue eyes often are. The white gene can induce withering of the inner ear. Frosty’s former owners couldn’t handle it, that’s why Victor adopted him.”

“Oh. She’s a him.”

“So spilling your guts to that cat is kind of pointless.”

Yikes! What had he heard her saying? Setting the cat down, she said, “How did you know I was spilling my guts, which I wasn’t, by the way. Were you eavesdropping?”

He smiled. “Don’t worry, I didn’t hear a word. Listen, we have to talk. Come with me.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “We can talk right here.”

“No. Come outside.”

“It’s dark out there.”

“Are you afraid of the dark?”

She wanted to say, No, I’m afraid of you. She said nothing.

“We’ll turn on the porch light.”

Leaving the dogs at the door, they went into the backyard. Jon switched on a light and the overgrown path to a small structure at the far end of the yard glowed with soft light.

The structure turned out to be a garden gazebo, less than eight feet across with bench seats on three sides. It had probably been charming at one time, but the drizzly north coast weather had stripped it of most of the white paint and dry rot had tilted the foundation. Jon sat on one creaking bench and Lora sat on another.

While she waited for him to gather his thoughts, she admired the way the light hit his cheekbones and forehead and glinted off his hair. This was the north coast in April—no way his hair got sun-bleached around here unless he went to a tanning booth or had it artificially bleached and she just couldn’t see him in either scenario. That meant he’d moved here from somewhere sunny and not too long ago.

Somewhere sunny. Him in a bathing suit, bare back crusted with glittering sand, sunlight warming his big shoulders. Suntan oil, warm ocean breezes, margaritas in a thermos. Her beside him—

What!

It was this setting. Romantic, hidden, the perfect place for crazy fantasies.

Another scene unfolded in her head. In this small drama, she was alone with Jon, not on the beach, not in the blazing sun, but here in this gazebo, the fragrance of flowers mingling with the nearby smell of the sea, his eyes smoldering as he looked deep into her soul. She could just about feel his fingers touch her face and the heat of his mouth as it closed over hers—

Jon cleared his throat and the wild images flitted away.

Still, he said nothing.

“Not that this hasn’t been fascinating,” Lora said stiffly, now wanting to escape her imagination as much as a confrontation, “but if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be going to…well, bed.” She rose to her feet.

“Drop the act,” Jon said softly.

She sat back down. “What act?”

Now he stood. Pacing back and forth in small controlled steps, he shot her a laser-like glance. “I know what you’re up to.”

He did? “You do?”

“Yes. And I think it’s appalling.” The pacing stopped, the glance turned into a glare. “You’re trying to con Victor into a marriage.”

How did he know this? Lora racked her brain, trying to recall if she’d said anything to anyone about her plans for Dr. Reed and her mother. She hadn’t, she was sure of it. Wait a second, she wasn’t trying to con anyone, she was simply facilitating romance. There was a difference! Fired by righteous indignation, she said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He laughed. “You’re good, I’ll give you that. When I first saw you this morning, I thought—well, it doesn’t matter what I thought. You’ve been lying since the moment I met you. Boggle isn’t even your cat, is he? That’s why you didn’t know much about him. You just used him to get close to Victor and when you found out he wasn’t there, you grilled me about where he was. I tried calling you this afternoon—big surprise, the phone number you gave me turned out to be disconnected. You showed up at the hospital with flowers that no one at the clinic sent—I checked with all the employees so don’t bother denying it. Now you’ve wormed your way into Victor’s house.”

As there was more than a grain of truth in what he said, Lora went on the offensive. “I’m not the one holding a secret meeting out in the backyard,” she said. Not liking the disadvantage of her head being lower than his, she stood. She was still at a disadvantage as he was quite a bit taller than she but unless she climbed up on a bench, this was going to have to do.

“I’m not holding a secret meeting.”

“Then why are we hiding out here?”

“So we won’t disturb Victor.”

“At least I treat him like an adult.”

This remark earned her another glare. “Victor was my father’s best friend. He was there for Dad when Dad got so sick he could barely work. Dad wouldn’t tell me he was that sick, he didn’t want to worry me. That’s a laugh, isn’t it? Well, at any rate, I owe Victor Reed big time. He’s a decent, honest man. I won’t stand by and watch you seduce him for his money.”

Lora’s eyes grew wide. Had she heard him right? “Me seduce him?” she gasped. “Is that what you think?”

“Of course. You’re a gold digger. Admit it.”

Lora was momentarily speechless. “That’s…that’s crazy,” she finally sputtered. “He’s old enough to be my—”

“Father,” Jon said.

“Oh, this is ludicrous.”

“Is it? How about the coquettish way you acted in his hospital room?”

“I don’t even know how to act coquettish.”

“You were managing just fine. Batting your eyelashes, giggling…he may look old to you, but he’s a man, and a man, especially an older man, is susceptible to a pretty young woman coming on to him, taking him flowers, offering to care for him in his hour of need, cooking his favorite dinner. I don’t even want to know how you figured out what he liked to eat. Who did you pump for that information, his sister, his sons? No, don’t tell me. And, by the way, this meeting isn’t a secret. Tomorrow morning, I’ll tell Victor everything you say tonight, so I guess you’d better pack your bag and go home, the party is over.”

While she admired his loyalty and spunk, he was definitely endangering her plans and more to the point, the conclusion he had reached about her motives was downright insulting. If she told him the real reason she was interested in Victor Reed, would it make a difference? Sure, he might think slightly better of her, but would he really care if she was here for herself or for her mother? She doubted it. And what was this about money? Since when were small town veterinarians wealthy? She added, “Dr. Reed has money?”

“You know he does. Loads of it.”

“How?”

“Wise investments, his wife’s estate. Don’t act dumb with me, Lora.”

There was no denying that money was nice and that it would relieve a lot worries, but money had nothing to do with love. Besides, due to her own resourcefulness, they would soon have a tidy influx of cash. Why else did she have that greenhouse and why else had she been slaving away during every spare moment? Unsure how to handle this situation, she started out by saying, “You’re wrong about me.”

“I checked the facts—”

“Okay, not wrong about everything, just about my motives.”

“Then explain yourself.”

“No.”

He looked surprised. Running a hand through his hair, he regarded her steadily until he finally said, “No?”

“No. I don’t see any reason why I should explain myself to you. I’m exactly who I say I am. My name is Lora Gifford. I work with my mom and grandma at our family florist shop. Okay, I borrowed Boggle from my neighbor and I made up a phone number but that’s because you wouldn’t stop flirting with me and I’ve recently sworn off men.”

His brow narrowed. “I did not flirt with you,” he said.

“Oh, come off it. You wanted my phone number.”

“I told you, that’s office protocol.”

“Give me a break. I’ve been flirted with by real pros. I know when a man is coming on to me.”

He sank down onto the bench and stared up at her. “Lora Gifford, you’re either an amazingly talented dissembler or you’re endowed with thought processes I can’t begin to comprehend. I honestly don’t know which it is. I’m not sure it matters.”

She felt a smile threatening. She tried to nip it in the bud—it seemed an inappropriate time to smile—but she just couldn’t help herself. She was dying to tell him all about her plot to unite Dr. Reed and her mother and share a good laugh, but he’d sworn he’d tell Dr. Reed everything she said, so how could she? Everyone knew that once something like that was common knowledge, the game was as good as over, and she truly did like Victor Reed. In fact, she’d set her sights on him and nothing was going to ruin it.

Jon frowned at her smile.

She sat beside him. “I wouldn’t hurt or take advantage of Dr. Reed any more than you would,” she said. Sitting so close had been a miscalculation on her part. She hadn’t realized how short the benches were, how close they would be forced to sit, how his thigh and shoulder would brush against hers. She wanted to move away, but as she was trying to elicit his trust, suddenly jumping to her feet seemed counterproductive. She stayed put and tried to think clearly.

“I know my actions seem squirrely,” she said, now aware of his body heat permeating the two layers of cloth separating their skin. “I know I’ve lied to you, but I genuinely like Dr. Reed and I have no desire to take advantage of him in any way. I didn’t know he had money, it doesn’t matter. I don’t want his house or anything else.”

That little voice piped up in the back of her head again. How about his partner? Do you want him?

No! she told her libido.

“I wish I could believe you,” he said.

“Dr. Reed and I kind of connected at the hospital. He knew my dad. I’m not trying to seduce him, that’s silly. I just want to get to know him. Is that so hard to understand?”

“That’s all very nice,” he said, staring right into her eyes, “but it doesn’t explain why you came into the office to meet him in the first place, does it?”

“You’re not going to give an inch, are you?”

“Not when it concerns Victor.”

Standing abruptly, she said, “You have nothing to tell Dr. Reed about me except for some vague, unfounded suspicions and the fact that I commandeered a cat and was embarrassed to admit I brought the flowers myself as an excuse to meet him. Dr. Reed is paying me to stay here and I need the money to fix the van. So back off and leave me alone.”

“Then you are here for money.”

“It’s a job.”

“I’ll pay you what he said he’d pay you if you leave right now.”

“No, thanks, I actually like to work for my money. Why don’t you go back to your own place?”

“No way,” he said. Standing, he added, “This is a warning. I plan to stay here as long as you do. Someone has to look out for Victor’s interests. I’m going to watch every step you take.”

She shrugged. “Maybe I’ll keep an eye on you to make sure you’re as noble as you say you are.”

Eyes flashing, he said, “I’m not noble, I just know when someone is not who they appear to be.”

She shook her head and walked back toward the house, aware she should be unnerved by his threat, feeling a shimmery thrill instead.

He was going to keep an eye on her, hmm? That should be interesting.

Okay, so she’d sworn off men.

That didn’t mean she couldn’t drive one remarkably irritating specimen a little crazy—strictly on his own terms—did it?

She added a swish to her walk.

Take that!