Читать книгу A Mother's Wish: Wanted: Perfect Partner / Father's Day - Debbie Macomber - Страница 9

Steve Conlan glanced at his watch. The time hadn’t changed since he’d looked before. He could tell it was going to be one of those nights. He had the distinct feeling it would drag by, one interminable minute after another.

He still hadn’t figured how he’d gotten himself into this mess. He was minding his own business and the next thing he knew … He didn’t want to think about it, because whenever he did his blood pressure rose.

Nancy was going to pay for this.

He was early, not because he was so eager for tonight. No, he was only eager to get it over with.

He tried not to check the time and failed. A minute had passed. Or was it a lifetime?

His necktie felt as if it would strangle him. A tie. He couldn’t believe he’d let Nancy talk him into wearing a stupid tie.

Because he needed something to occupy his time, he took the snapshot out of his shirt pocket.

Meg Remington.

She had a nice face, he decided. Nothing spectacular. She certainly wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous, but she wasn’t plain, either. Her eyes were her best feature. Clear. Bright. Expressive. She had a cute mouth, too. Very kissable. Sensuous.

What was he supposed to say to the woman? The hell if he knew. He’d read her letters and e-mails a dozen times. She sounded—he hated to say it—immature, as if she felt the need to impress him. She seemed to think that because she ran an eight-minute mile it qualified her for the Olympics. Frankly, he wondered what their dinner would be like, with her being so food conscious and all. She’d actually bragged about how few fat grams and carbs she consumed. Clearly she wasn’t familiar with the menu at Chez Michelle. He couldn’t see a single low-fat or low-carb entrée.

That was another thing. The woman had expensive tastes. Dinner at Chez Michelle would set him back three hundred bucks—if he was lucky. So far he’d been anything but …

Involuntarily his gaze fell to his watch again, and he groaned inwardly. His sister owed him for this.

Big time.

“I refuse to meet a strange man for dinner,” Meg insisted coldly. There were some things even a mother wouldn’t do.

“But you have to,” Brenda pleaded. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Remington, I feel really bad springing this on you, but Steve didn’t do anything wrong. You’ve just got to show up. You have to … otherwise he might lose faith in all women.”

“So?”

“But he’s your date,” Lindsey said. “It would’ve worked out great if …” she paused and scowled at her best friend “… if one of us hadn’t gotten the days mixed up.”

“Exactly when did you plan on telling me you’ve been communicating with a strange man, using my name?”

“Soon,” Lindsey said with conviction. “We had to … He started asking about meeting you almost right away. We did everything we could to hold him off. Oh, by the way, if he asks about your appendix, you’ve made a full recovery.”

Meg groaned. The time frame of their deception wasn’t what interested her. She was stalling, looking for a way out of this. She could leave a message for Steve at the restaurant, explaining that she couldn’t make it, but that seemed like such a cowardly thing to do.

Unfortunately no escape plan presented itself. Brenda was right; it wasn’t Steve’s fault that he’d been duped by a pair of teenagers. It wasn’t her fault, either, but then Lindsey was her daughter.

“He’s very nice-looking,” Brenda said. She reached behind her and pulled out a picture from one of the envelopes scattered across Lindsey’s bed. “Here, see what I mean?” Meg swore she heard the girl sigh. “He’s got blue eyes and check out his smile.”

Meg took the photo from Brenda and studied it. Her daughter’s friend was right. Steve Conlan was pleasant-looking. His hair was a little long, but that didn’t bother her. He wore a cowboy hat and boots and had his thumbs tucked into his hip pockets as he stared into the camera.

“He’s tall, dark and lonesome,” Lindsey said wistfully.

“Has he ever been married?” Meg asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

“Nope.” This time it was Brenda who supplied the information. “He’s got his own business, same as you, Mrs. Remington. He owns a body shop and he’s been sinking every penny into it.”

“What made him place the ad?” she asked the girls. A sudden thought came to her. “He is the one who advertised, isn’t he?”

Both girls looked away and Meg’s heart froze. “You mean to say you two advertised for a husband for me?” She spoke slowly, each word distinct.

“We got lots of letters, too,” Brenda said proudly. “We went through them all and chose Steve Conlan.”

“Don’t you want to know why?” Lindsey prodded.

Meg gestured weakly, still too shocked to react.

“Steve says he decided to answer your ad because one day he woke up and realized life was passing him by. All his friends were married, and he felt like something important was missing in his life. Then he knew it wasn’t something but someone.”

“What about female friends?” Meg asked, thinking he didn’t look like a man who’d have to find companionship in the classifieds.

“He said in his letter that …” Lindsey paused and rustled through a sheaf of papers, searching for the right envelope. “Here it is,” she muttered. “He doesn’t have much opportunity to meet single women unless they’ve been in an accident, and generally they’re not in the mood for romance when they’re dealing with a body shop and an insurance company.” Lindsey grinned. “He’s kind of witty. I like that about him.”

“He said a lot of women his age have already been married and divorced and had a passel of kids.”

This didn’t sound too promising to Meg. “You did happen to mention that I’m divorced, too, didn’t you?”

“Of course,” Lindsey insisted. “We’d never lie.”

Meg bit her tongue to keep from saying the obvious.

“Just think,” Brenda said, “out of all the women who advertised, Steve chose you and we chose him. It’s destiny.”

The girls thought she’d feel complimented, but Meg was suspicious. “Surely there was someone younger and prettier, without children, who interested him.”

The two girls exchanged a smile. “He liked the fact that you count carbs and fat grams,” Brenda said proudly.

So much for their unwillingness to stretch the truth. “You actually told him that?” She closed her eyes and groaned. “What else did you say?”

“Just that you’re really wonderful.”

“Heroic,” Brenda added. “And you are.”

Oh, great. They’d made her sound like a thin Joan of Arc.

“You will meet him, won’t you?” Lindsey’s dark eyes pleaded with Meg.

“What I should do is march the two of you down to that fancy restaurant and have you personally apologize to him. You both deserve to be grounded until you’re forty.”

The girls blinked in unison. “But, Mom … “

“Mrs. Remington … “

Meg raised her hand and stopped them. “I won’t take you to Chez Michelle, and as for the grounding part … we’ll discuss it later.”

Two pairs of shoulders sagged with relief.

“But I won’t have dinner with Steve Conlan,” she said emphatically. “I’ll go to the restaurant, introduce myself and explain what happened. I’m sure he’ll agree that the best thing to do is skip dinner altogether.”

“You’ll wear the dress, won’t you?” Lindsey asked, eyeing the slinky black concoction hanging outside her closet door.

“Absolutely not,” Meg said. She refused to even consider it.

“But you don’t have anything special enough for Chez Michelle. Just try it on, Mom.”

“No. Well … “

“Come on, Mom. Brenda and I want to see how it looks.”

An hour later Meg pulled up at Chez Michelle in the very dress she’d sworn she’d never wear. It fit as if it’d been designed just for her, enhancing her figure and camouflaging those stubborn ten pounds. At least that was what Lindsey and Brenda told her.

“Hello.” The hostess greeted her with a wide smile. “Table for one?”

“I’m … meeting someone,” Meg said, glancing around the waiting area looking for a man who resembled “tall, dark and lonesome” in the photo. No one did. Nor was there a single male wearing a cowboy hat.

The only man who looked vaguely like the one in the photograph stood in the corner of the room, leaning indolently against the wall as if he had all the time in the world.

He straightened and stared at her.

Meg stared back.

He reached inside his suit pocket and took out a picture.

Meg opened the clasp of her purse and removed the photo the girls had given her. She looked down at it and then up again.

He appeared to be doing the same thing.

“Meg Remington?” he asked uncertainly.

She nodded. “Steve Conlan?”

He nodded, too.

He wore a suit and tie. A suit and tie. The guy had really gone all out for her. Meg swallowed uncomfortably. He’d invited her to this ultrafancy restaurant expecting to meet the woman who’d exchanged those letters and messages with him. Meg felt her heart settle somewhere in the vicinity of her knees. She couldn’t very well introduce herself and immediately say it had all been a mistake and cancel dinner. Not when he’d gone to so much trouble.

“I believe our table is ready,” Steve said, holding out his arm to her. His hand touched her elbow and he addressed the hostess. “We can be seated now.”

The woman gave him an odd look, then picked up two huge menus. “This way.”

Meg might’ve been wrong, but she thought she heard some reluctance in his voice. Perhaps she was a disappointment to Steve Conlan. After the fitness drill Lindsey and Brenda had put her through, Meg was feeling her advancing age.

Pride stiffened Meg’s shoulders. So she hadn’t signed any modeling contracts lately. What did he expect from a thirty-seven-year-old woman? If he wanted to date a woman in her twenties, he shouldn’t have answered her ad. Lindsey’s ad, she corrected. It was all Meg could do not to stop Steve Conlan right then and there and tell him this was as good as it got.

Especially in this dress. It was simply gorgeous. Meg knew now the girls had made the perfect choice. She was glad she’d given in to them on this one. Besides, Lindsey was right; she didn’t own anything fancy enough for Chez Michelle. Before she could stop herself she’d agreed to wear it. Soon both girls were offering her fashion advice.

They were escorted to a linen-covered table next to the window, which overlooked Elliot Bay and Puget Sound. The moon’s reflection on the water sent gilded light across the surface, and the restaurant’s interior was dimly lit.

Meg squinted, barely able to read her menu. She wondered if Steve was having the same problem. Originally she hadn’t intended to have dinner with him. Wouldn’t even now, if he hadn’t gone to so much trouble on her behalf. It seemed crass to drop in, announce it had all been a misguided attempt by her daughter to play matchmaker, ask his forgiveness and speedily disappear.

“I believe I’ll have the chicken cordon bleu,” she said, deciding on the least expensive item on the menu. “And please, I insist on paying for my own meal.” It would be unforgivable to gouge him for that as well.

“Dinner’s on me,” Steve insisted, setting his menu aside. He smiled for the first time and it transformed his face. He studied her, as if he wasn’t sure what to make of her.

“But …” Meg lowered her gaze and closed her mouth. She didn’t know where to start and yet she didn’t know how much longer she could maintain the pretense. “This is all very elegant ….”

“Yes,” he agreed, spinning the stem of his water glass between his thumb and index finger.

“You look different than your picture.” Meg had no idea why she’d told him that. What she should be doing was explaining about Lindsey and Brenda.

“How’s that?”

“Your eyes are much bluer and you’ve cut your hair.”

He gave a slight grin. “And your picture didn’t do you justice.”

Meg hadn’t thought to ask Lindsey which one she’d mailed Steve. “Can I see?”

“Sure.” He pulled it out of his pocket and handed it over.

Meg took one look and rolled her eyes. She couldn’t believe Lindsey had sent this particular photograph to anyone. It’d been taken just before Christmas a year earlier. She was standing in front of the Christmas tree wearing a white dress that drained all the color from her face. The flash from the camera made her eyes appear red. She looked like she was recovering from a serious ailment.

“This is one of the worst pictures ever taken of me,” she said impatiently. “The one of me at the bookstore is much better.”

Steve’s brow creased with a frown. “I see. You should’ve sent that one.”

Meg realized what she’d said too late. “You’re right, I should have …. How silly of me.”

The waitress came and they placed their orders, both declining a drink, Meg to keep down the cost and Steve, no doubt, to hurry the meal along.

Once the server had left the table, Meg carefully smoothed the napkin across her lap. “Listen, Steve … “

“Meg … “

They both stopped.

“You go first,” he said, gesturing toward her.

“All right.” She cocked her head to one side and then the other, going over the words in her mind. “This isn’t easy ….”

Steve frowned. “It’s been a pleasure to meet me, but the chemistry just isn’t there and you’d like to let me down gently and be done with it.”

“No!” she hurried to assure him.

“Oh.”

The disappointment in his tone came as a mild shock. Then she understood. “You … expected a different kind of woman and—”

“Not in the least. If the truth be known, I’m pleasantly surprised.”

She swallowed. “I wish you hadn’t said that.”

“Why not?”

“Because …” She dragged in a deep breath. “Because I’m not the person you think I am. I mean …” This was proving even more difficult than it should have. “I didn’t write those letters.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Then who did?”

“My daughter and her friend.”

“I … see.”

Meg’s fingers crushed the linen napkin in her lap. “You have every reason to be upset. It was an underhanded thing to do to us both.”

“You didn’t know anything about this?”

“I swear I didn’t. I would’ve put a stop to it immediately if I had.”

Steve reached for his water and drank thirstily. “I would have, too.”

“I want you to know I intend to discipline Lindsey for this. I can only apologize …” She stopped midsentence when she saw his shoulders moving with suppressed laughter. “Steve?”

“I didn’t write those letters, either. The ones from me.”

“What?” Disbelief settled over Meg. “You mean to say you didn’t respond to the ad in Dateline?”

“Nope. My romantic little sister did. Nancy’s on this kick about seeing me married. I don’t understand it, but—”

“Just a minute,” Meg said, raising her hand. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. You didn’t place the ad in Dateline.”

“You’ve got it.”

“Then why are you here?”

He shrugged. “Probably for the same reason you are. I figured you were some lonely heart seeking companionship and frankly I felt bad that Nancy had led you on like this. It isn’t your fault my crazy sister thinks it’s time I got married.”

He paused when their meals were delivered.

Meg dug into her chicken with gusto. Irritation usually made her hungry. She stabbed a carrot slice with her fork.

“So you felt sorry for me?” she said, chewing the carrot vigorously.

He looked up, apparently sensing her irritation. “No sorrier than you felt for me.”

He had her there.

“It’s the reason you showed up, isn’t it?” he pressed.

She agreed with a nod. “When did you find out about this dinner date?”

“This morning. You?”

She glanced at her watch. “About two hours ago.”

Steve chuckled. “They didn’t give you much opportunity to object, did they?”

“Actually they got the days mixed up and went into a panic. I don’t suppose you happened to read any of the letters or e-mails they wrote?”

“As a matter of fact I did. Interesting stuff.”

“I’ll bet.” She stabbed one of the potato pieces with her fork. “You should know that not everything they said was the truth.” She put the potato in her mouth and chewed.

“So you don’t actually run an eight-minute mile.”

“No … “

“Nine minutes?”

“I don’t exactly run, and before you ask me about carbs and fat grams, you can forget everything Lindsey told you about those, too. And for the record, my appendix is in great shape.”

Steve chuckled. “What did Nancy tell you about me?”

“Since I’ve only read tidbits of your letters and e-mails, I can’t really say.”

“Oh?” His voice fell noticeably.

“As I recall, your sister did suggest that your life’s quite empty and you’re looking for something to fill your lonely nights—” she paused for effect “—until you realized it wasn’t something you were searching for but someone.”

His jaw tightened. “She said that?”

“Yup.” Meg took some pleasure in telling him that.

“Well, that’s a crock of bull. I certainly hope you didn’t believe it.”

Meg smiled. “Not really. Lindsey didn’t mean any harm, you know.”

“Nancy, either, although I’d like to throttle her. The kid’s nineteen and she’s got romance and marriage on her mind. Unfortunately, it’s me she’s trying to marry off.”

“Lindsey thinks I’m lost and lonely, but I’m perfectly content with my life.”

“Me, too.”

“Why ruin everything now?”

“Exactly,” Steve agreed with conviction. “A woman would want to change everything about me.”

“A man would string me along until he found someone prettier and sexier. Besides,” Meg added, “I have no intention of becoming a pawn in some ploy of my daughter’s.”

“Nancy can take a flying leap into Green Lake before I’ll let her arrange my love life,” Steve told her adamantly. “I certainly intend to marry, but on my time—not when my kid sister ropes me into a lonely-hearts-club relationship.”

“I feel the same way.”

“Great.” Steve grinned at her, and Meg had to admit he had a wonderful smile. It lit up his eyes and softened his features. “Shall we drink to our agreement?”

“Definitely.”

Steve attracted the waitress’s attention and ordered a bottle of wine.

Meg was astonished by the ease with which they could talk, once all the pretense between them had been resolved. She told him about her bookstore and liked hearing about his body shop. They lingered over coffee and dessert, and not until it became apparent that the restaurant was about to close did they get up to leave.

“I enjoyed myself,” Meg said as they strolled to the door.

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“Frankly, I am.”

He laughed. “I guess I am, too.”

The valet brought her Ford Escort to the front of the restaurant and held open her door.

“Thank you for a lovely dinner,” she said, suddenly feeling shy and awkward.

“The pleasure was all mine.”

Neither of them made an effort to move. The valet checked his watch and Meg glanced at him guiltily. Steve ignored him and eventually so did Meg.

“I guess this is goodbye,” she said, wishing now that she hadn’t made such a big issue about not being her daughter’s pawn.

“Looks that way.”

She lowered her eyes, fighting the enticement she read in his. “Thanks again.”

Steve traced his finger along her jaw. His work-calloused fingertip felt warm against her skin. If they hadn’t been standing under the lights of a fancy French restaurant with a valet looking on, Meg wondered if he would’ve kissed her. She wanted to think he might have.

On the drive home, she dismissed the idea as fanciful. It had been a long time since she’d been wined and dined, that was all. And an even longer time since she’d been kissed …

Sensation after sensation traveled across her face where he’d touched her. Smile after smile flirted with her mouth at the memory of his lips so close to hers. She wouldn’t forget the date or the man anytime soon. That was for sure.

“Well, how’d it go?” Nancy demanded. His teenage sister met Steve at the door. Her eyes were wide with curiosity as she followed him inside.

Steve looked at his watch and frowned. “What are you still doing up?”

Nancy’s face fell. “You asked me to wait for you, so we could talk.”

Steve slid his fingers through his hair. “I did, didn’t I?” “You’re much later than you thought you’d be.” He didn’t respond, unwilling to let his sister know how much he’d enjoyed himself. “I’m furious with you for what you did,” he said, forcing his voice to sound gruff with irritation.

“I don’t blame you,” she agreed readily enough.

“Haven’t you got an exam to study for or something?” he asked, although he knew very well she didn’t. Nancy attended the nearby University of Washington. She was staying with Steve for the summer, since their parents were now living in Montana.

“You liked her, didn’t you?”

Nancy sounded much too smug to suit Steve.

“And no, I don’t have any exams to study for, and you know it. They ended two weeks ago.” Since then, she’d taken a summer job at the university library.

“So you’ve decided to stay in Seattle and make my life miserable.”

“No, I’ve decided to stay in Seattle and see you married. Come on, Steve, you’re thirty-eight! That’s getting up there.” She flopped down on the sofa and sat with her legs underneath her, as if she planned to plant herself right there until he announced his engagement.

The problem, Steve decided, was that Nancy was the product of parents who’d never expected a second child and had spoiled her senseless. He was partially to blame, as well, but he’d never thought she’d pull something like this.

“You work too hard,” she said. “Loosen up and enjoy life a little.”

“You’re going to write Meg Remington a formal letter of apology.” He refused to back down on this.

“Okay, I’ll write her.” All at once she was on her feet. “When are you seeing her again?”

“I’m not.”

Nancy fell back onto the sofa. “Why not?”

Darned if Steve could give her an answer. He and Meg had made that decision early on in their conversation, and for the life of him he couldn’t remember why.

“Because,” he growled. “Now leave me alone.”

Nancy threw back her head and laughed. “You like her. You really, really like her.”

Meg sat in the back storeroom and rubbed her aching feet. The new shoes pinched her toes, but this was what she got for buying them half a size too small. They were on sale and she loved them, although the store had been out of size eights. Even knowing her feet would pay the penalty later, Meg had chosen to wear them today.

Laura stuck her head through the door and smiled when she saw her. “A beautiful bouquet of flowers just arrived for you,” she said.

“For me?”

“That’s what the envelope said.”

“Who from?”

“I didn’t read the card, if that’s what you’re asking, but Lindsey’s here and she grabbed it and let out a holler. My guess is the flowers are from Steve.”

“Steve.” Pain or no pain, Meg was on her feet. She hobbled to the front of the store and found her fifteen-year-old daughter grinning triumphantly.

“Steve Conlan sent flowers,” she crowed.

“So I see.” Meg’s fingers shook as she removed the card from the small envelope.

“He said, and I quote, ‘You’re one special woman, Meg Remington. Love, Steve.’”

The bouquet was huge, with at least ten different varieties of flowers all arranged in a white wicker basket. It must have cost him easily a hundred dollars.

“We agreed,” she whispered.

“Agreed to what?” Lindsey prodded.

“That we weren’t going to see each other again.”

“Obviously he changed his mind,” Lindsey said, as excited as if she’d just discovered a twenty-dollar bill in the bottom of her purse.

Unwilling to trust her daughter’s assessment of the situation, Meg stared at her best friend.

“Don’t look at me,” Laura said.

“I’m sure you’re wrong,” Meg said to Lindsey, her heart still beating a little too fast.

“Why else would he send flowers?” Lindsey asked calmly.

“He wanted to say he was glad we met, that’s all. I don’t think we should make something out of this,” she said. “It’s just … a courtesy.”

“Call him,” Lindsey pleaded.

“I most certainly will not!”

“But, Mom, don’t you see? Steve’s saying he likes you, but he doesn’t want to pressure you into anything unless you like him, too.”

“He is?” Whatever confidence she’d felt a moment earlier vanished like ice cream at a Fourth of July picnic.

“The next move is yours.”

“Laura?”

“I wouldn’t know,” her fickle friend said. “I’ve been married to the same man for twenty-six years. All this intrigue is beyond me.”

“I agree with your daughter,” a shy voice said from the other side of the counter. “You should call him.”

It was Meg’s customer, Judith Wilson. Meg wasn’t sure she should listen to the older woman who faithfully purchased romance novels twice a month. Judith was a real romantic and would undoubtedly read more into the gesture than Steve had intended.

“See?” Lindsey said excitedly. “The ball’s in your court. Steve made his move and now he’s waiting for yours.”

Meg didn’t know what to do.

“It’s been three days,” Lindsey reminded her. “He’s had time to think over the situation, and so have you.”

“Call him,” Laura suggested. “If for nothing more than to thank him for the flowers.”

“Yes, call him,” Judith echoed, clutching her bag of books.

“It’s the least you can do.” Once more it was her daughter offering advice.

“All right,” Meg said reluctantly. The flowers were gorgeous, and thanking him would be the proper thing to do.

“I’ll get his work number for you,” Lindsey volunteered, pulling the Yellow Pages from behind the cash register.

The kid had Steve’s shop number faster than directory assistance could have located it.

“I’ll use the phone in the back room,” Meg said. She didn’t need several pairs of ears listening in on her conversation.

She felt everyone’s eyes on her as she hurried into the storeroom. Her hand actually shook as she punched out the telephone number.

“Emerald City,” a gruff male voice answered.

“Hello, this is Meg Remington calling for Steve Conlan.”

“Hold on a minute.”

“Of course.”

A moment later, Steve was on the line. “Meg?”

“Hello, Steve. I know you’re busy, so I won’t take up much of your time. I’m calling to thank you for the flowers.”

A long pause followed her words. “Flowers? What flowers?”