Читать книгу Hot to the Touch - Isabel Sharpe, Isabel Sharpe - Страница 10

“CHAZ, THANKS FOR COMING IN today.” Marie shook the strong, beautiful, masculine hand of strong, beautiful, masculine Chaz Hunter, and escorted his strong, beautiful, masculine body out of her office, barely closing the door behind him before she was pumping her fist. “Yes!”

This was the man for Darcy. Intelligent, articulate, funny, drop-dead gorgeous, built like an Olympic diver, divorced five years, didn’t want kids and guess what he did for a living? Sold wine to stores and … wait for it … restaurants. He could not be more perfect. Marie could already envision long, sensual dates for the two of them spent tasting wine and food and each other. Chaz even loved the same kind of alternative rock music she did. Plus, from what Marie could tell, he came from money. So if Darcy ever needed a little cash infusion in her business, maybe to open a second location …

Okay. Marie was getting ahead of herself. But this guy was worth pulling out all the stops for, really attacking Darcy with how fabulous he was. And then when Darcy put her foot down and went mulish, as she very predictably and very annoyingly would, Marie could start thinking how to make this happen some other, less direct way. Some other, behind-the-scenes way. Some low-down, sinfully sneaky way.

Desperate times …

She pounced on her phone and dialed. Ten in the morning, Darcy wouldn’t be at the restaurant yet, or if she was, she wouldn’t be crazy busy and could talk. With any luck she’d even be able to listen.

“Darcy, it’s Marie.” She tried to keep the excitement out of her tone.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Not much.” She sat back in her desk chair, grinning smugly. “Oh, except I just met your future husband.”

“My—” Darcy groaned. “Well, isn’t that fascinating, seeing as how I don’t plan to get married ever.”

“He’s handsome, sexy, funny, sexy, rich, sexy—”

“Marie, what part of ‘I don’t want to date’ doesn’t get through your filter?”

“And, he sells wine to fine establishments such as yours. You’d have tons in common.”

“We have one thing not in common right off the bat.”

“You’re female, he’s male?” She laughed. “Honey, that’s the best part. Or maybe you forgot.”

“No-o. That’s not i-i-t.” Darcy sang the words as if she were taunting a sibling. “The difference is that he wants to date, and I don’t.”

“You don’t have to date. Just meet him.”

“Oh, like that’s going to—”

“Just look at his profile.”

“Not interested.”

“His picture.”

“For heaven’s—”

“How about listen to me saying his name?”

“Marie! You are a menace.”

“Aren’t I?” She was so enjoying this, twisting her chair side to side, sure she was finally on her way to victory, be it fair or foul. “You know I’m going to wear you down eventually. Why not give in?”

“Because.” Darcy made a sound of frustration. “I don’t need any more male complications right now.”

Marie’s chair stopped; her eyes shot wide. “More male complications? What do you mean ‘more’? You met someone?”

“No. No, I didn’t meet— For God’s sake, Marie. You are obsessed. I think you need to see someone about this. A friend has a therapist who has helped her a lot with her complete and total insanity, yours can’t be much worse. Or maybe it is.”

“Chaz Hunter.” She picked up a pen and wrote the name in the air with giant flourishes. “Chaz-z Hunter-r.”

“Chaz? Oh, ew, what, his great-grandfather founded the Milwaukee Yacht Club?”

“His great-grandfather came over from Germany. They made money in construction. A lot of money.”

“How nice for them.”

“Just take a look.” She suppressed a giggle, sensing Darcy was about to blow. “I’ll send his picture to your—”

“Marie. I do not want—” A sharp thwack came across the line. Had a fish or chicken part just been severed while Darcy imagined Marie’s head leaving her body? Silence, then a long suffering sigh. “Send it if you want, but I’m deleting upon receipt.”

Excellent. She was weakening. Marie pulled up an email and attached Chaz’s profile picture. “Darcy, in all seriousness, he seems like a really good guy. I can see you enjoying him a lot. And he’s very hot.”

“And therefore incredibly full of himself.”

“Darcy, Darcy.” Marie tsk-tsked. “You are horrifically sexist.”

“I have to go. Delivery guy is here. Thanks for thinking of me, but I wish you wouldn’t.”

“Watch for his photo. Chaz Hunter.” She hung up, sent the email and let her head drop back, swinging the chair side to side again. Well. That was progress. Darcy’s curiosity would undoubtedly prompt her to look at the picture, which was pretty fabulous. Chaz, standing on top of a spectacular mountain, clear blue eyes visible, strong chin shown to advantage, thick ashen hair ruffling sexily in the wind.

Sadly, Marie was pretty sure it would take a stronger push to get Darcy to talk to the guy even if she found his picture attractive. The first step would have to come from Chaz. But since Darcy didn’t have a profile up on Milwaukeedates, Marie had nothing to show Chaz in order to interest him.

She stopped swinging the chair. Lifted her head. Stared at her laptop screen.

Now was the time.

Hadn’t she recognized at the Women in Power meeting last week that she’d probably have to resort to fighting dirty in order to get Darcy to admit that love was what she deep down really wanted?

If Marie put up a Milwaukeedates profile for Darcy and steered Chaz in her direction, maybe he’d take it from there. What girl could resist being courted by a handsome, wealthy guy with loads of charisma and common interests? Certainly not Marie. If her friend Quinn, who met each one of those criterion, ever glanced romantically in her short, plump, average-woman direction, she’d melt into a gooey puddle.

There was always the chance, however, that Darcy, faced with the same irresistible combination, might freeze into a column of ice.

Marie’s assistant buzzed. “Candy Graham on line three.”

“Thanks, Jane.” She connected the call eagerly. The perfect person to consult when hatching diabolical plans. “Hey, Candy.”

“Marie, I had a completely fabulous idea.”

“So did I.” She grinned. Candy tackled everything with one hundred percent enthusiasm. “Let’s hear yours first.”

“You should have a party to celebrate all the Milwaukeedates couples who’ve gotten engaged or married through your site. Next month, June, is wedding month, the perfect time. I’m thinking end of the month, a wedding theme with tiered cake, flowers, champagne, maybe have a drawing for a donated certificate to a local bridal shop and/or tux rental place, or for the already-marrieds, to a kitchen or home improvement store.”

“Wow. Wow!” Marie rose slowly from her chair as if helium was filling her. “What a great idea, Candy! Do we have time to plan a party in a month?”

“Are you kidding? Plenty. I’m happy to do it. I bet the paper would be willing to write up a piece on it, too. It’d be great PR for both of us. And I have friends at a couple of radio stations who might be willing to do interviews.”

“Candy, you are brilliant.” Marie started pacing her office, going back over the five years she’d been in business. “We’ve had about twenty-five couples engaged or married since we started, including you and Justin and Kim and Nathan.”

“Fifty people is a perfect size. You can have it in your office, or … hey, maybe we can hold it at Gladiolas.”

“Yes!” Marie was already picturing the dining room at Gladiolas decorated for a wedding theme. “I love it. Good PR for Darcy, too.”

“Settled. So what was your completely fabulous idea?”

Marie gave a wicked grin. “Let’s say I’m trying to extend your guest list by one more couple.”

“Another set of lovebirds on the way?”

“I’m plotting. Darcy.”

“Darcy?” Candy gave a shout of laughter. “You think you can get her engaged in the next month? I didn’t think you could even get her interested in dating.”

“I can’t. But I’m still determined.”

“How are you going to do it?”

“Er …” Marie wrinkled her nose. “I do have a plan, but it’s not entirely ethical.”

Candy hooted. “Are you going to have her put up four different profiles on Milwaukeedates the way you did with me?”

“One would be enough.” She rubbed her temple, not entirely comfortable now that she’d have to admit to her scheme out loud. “The problem is that she refuses to consider it. So I was thinking maybe I could go online …”

“And put up a profile without her permission?”

Marie bit her lip anxiously. “It’s horrible, isn’t it.”

“It is pretty horrible.”

“I mean, it’s really low.”

“Really low.”

“You don’t think I should do it.”

“Absolutely, I do.” Candy sounded delighted. “It’s perfect.”

Marie snorted, wandering restlessly over to her bookcase. “I really don’t know.”

“C’mon, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“She’d get angry with me.”

“How does she feel about your matchmaking efforts on her behalf now?”

“Angry with me.”

“Therefore …”

“I see your point.” She ran a finger over the shelf. Needed dusting. “Except she could probably come after me legally. Invasion of privacy or something.”

“Darcy wouldn’t do that. Deep down she recognizes that as meddling and annoying as you are, Marie, you—”

“Oh, thanks. Tons.”

“Sure, no problem. She realizes you love her and that’s what motivates you. She wouldn’t lash back at that. Not more than verbally.”

“Which I would deserve.” She went back to her desk and sank into the chair. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“Which we would deserve. This is now officially our matchmaking plan. In fact, I’ll call Kim and we’ll make it a threesome idea.”

“No, no. You shouldn’t share blame with me.”

“Who’s talking blame? We’ll want to share the credit. At her wedding.”

Marie laughed. “You really think I should do this?”

“Absolutely. If nothing else it will get her attention. And any picture of her will definitely get the attention of men on the site. Then who knows? Once guys start flocking, she might just decide to give one or more of them a try.”

“That was my hope.” Marie logged onto Milwaukeedates as an administrator. “Okay, you’re convincing me.”

“We’re convincing us. I’m going to call Kim right away. And listen, I’ll do up an outline for the wedding party idea and email it to you by tomorrow or Monday, okay?”

“Love it. Thanks, Candy, on both counts. You’re a gem.”

“Aren’t I? Seriously, I think forcing the issue with Darcy is a great idea. I saw her face when Kim was talking about wedding plans, and boy, look up wistful in the dictionary and there’s her expression.”

“Exactly.” Marie was triumphant now. An enthusiastic ally had made all the difference.

“Speaking of her face, do you have a good picture of her? I might be able to dig one up.”

“I doubt she can take a bad one.” Marie brought up a New Profile page on her computer. “I have the photos I took at the Gladiolas opening. There’s one in particular I remember as stunning.”

“Awesome. That was a great dress she had on!”

“Okay, I’m on this. Thank you, Candy. Say hi to Justin.”

“Say hi to Quinn.”

Marie started, fingers stumbling over the keyboard. Quinn? “How did you know about him?”

Candy snickered. “Kim is my new gossip girl. She told me recently that she saw you two walking when she and Nathan were kayaking last month. Said you looked aw-fully happy.”

“He’s a friend. That’s all.” Marie was very glad Candy couldn’t see her blushing.

“Uh-huh. Right. I believe that. One of these days we’re all going to gang up on you for the matchmaking thing and see how you like it.”

“Ooh, what a threat.”

“You’ve been warned. Oh, and speaking of potentially good gossip, Wednesday night I saw Darcy heading for Esmee Restaurant. I’d just picked up Justin; he was drinking there with Troy. I tried to get Justin to ask if Troy had noticed Darcy—as if any man wouldn’t—and if he noticed who she met up with, but you know men, their priorities are wacked, so Justin hasn’t asked yet.”

“Uh … okay.” Marie’s head was spinning trying to follow that one. “Wait, Darcy and Troy have never met?”

“Not as far as I know.”

“Hmm.” She narrowed her eyes, fingers tapping on the side of her keyboard. Troy. She hadn’t thought of him for Darcy. Too young? Maybe not strong enough? “Let me know what you find out, especially if she’s already got someone.”

“You think she and Troy …?”

“I’m committing to nothing.”

“Well, he’s on the site, too, so you should definitely go ahead with our unethical plan. Oops, Justin’s here. Talk to you soon!”

“Bye.” Marie hung up, feeling slightly breathless, partly from relief she’d dodged further questions about Quinn, and partly because she always felt that way after talking to her warm-hearted whirlwind of a friend.

Candy’s party idea was terrific. Mid-June also brought Marie’s fortieth birthday, something she wasn’t quite sure she was ready to face. But celebrating the love she’d brought to so many couples would be a fitting way to show how rich her life had become and would continue to be.

For a second she imagined what richness her life would hold if Quinn was in it the way she’d come to realize she wanted him to be.

But that was ridiculous daydreaming. Marie had plenty more important things to do than fantasize about something she couldn’t have. She opened her pictures file, searching for the photograph of Darcy she remembered best.

There. Darcy, caught unaware during a quiet moment at Gladiolas’s opening, surveying her restaurant, color high, eyes sparkling, looking about as proud and happy and beautiful as any woman had a right to be.

The men of Milwaukeedates.com weren’t going to know what hit them. And assuming Chaz reacted to her picture the way any sighted, intelligent, straight male would, Darcy wasn’t going to, either.

“YOU DID WHAT?”

“Put up a profile for Darcy.” Marie’s smile slipped. Something was off tonight. From the moment she’d shown up at their usual Friday-night drink and dinner date here at the Roots Cellar bar in their shared neighborhood of Brewer’s Hill, she and Quinn hadn’t been able to settle into the usual easy camaraderie. She was used to him kidding about her matchmaking efforts, but while he usually reacted with amused exasperation, right now he seemed genuinely annoyed. “And I sent Chaz a Milwaukeedates ‘hello’ supposedly from her, to get the ball rolling.”

“This after she’s said repeatedly that she doesn’t want to date.”

“Jeez, Quinn.” She stared at him, getting annoyed herself, which was a first. She couldn’t remember the two of them having anything but teasing, polite disagreements. Now Quinn wasn’t teasing, and Marie didn’t feel polite. “Haven’t you listened to a thing I’ve told you about Darcy?”

“Sounds like you’re not listening to a thing she’s told you.”

“She does want to date. You should see her talk about men.”

“You mean hear her talk?”

“No, see her.” Marie put down her Prufrock, her favorite Roots specialty drink, and turned on the bar stool, holding herself rigid. “Her whole body goes into terrified-defense mode, like this. Stiff as a board. She’s so afraid to admit what she wants. So afraid someone will figure out she’s human and can be vulnerable. It’s heartbreaking.”

“And up to you to fix?”

Grrrr. Even Quinn’s strong resemblance to George Clooney wasn’t helping her like him any better at the moment. “No, not up to me. Only she can fix it. But if I can put a guy in her way who will inspire her to take the necessary steps so she can ultimately be happy, then I’ve done something really wonderful for her.”

He signaled the dark-eyed bartender, Joe, for another gin martini; he’d gone through his first one much faster than usual. “She’ll be happy paired off because no one can be happy on his or her own? Is that what you believe?”

“Yes. I do believe that or I couldn’t keep putting this much effort and time into what I do.”

Quinn drained an invisible final drop from his empty drink and pushed the glass away, then fixed his movie-star gaze on her. “And where do you fit into that, Marie?”

“What do you mean?” For some reason, maybe because his voice had gentled, Marie felt some of the fight leave her. “In my role as meddling matchmaker?”

“No. In your role as a woman. A single woman who shows no signs of wanting a man in her own life. Why is that? You don’t want to be ‘happy’?”

Irritation sparked again. “When it’s time for me to date, I will.”

“And when will that time be?”

When she could give up hope that Quinn might someday open his eyes and see her. “You want an exact hour?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Okay, fine.” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. They were squabbling like children. This wasn’t what she wanted. But maybe he was pushing her toward something she should be doing anyway. Setting a deadline. Deciding when to give up this pipe dream. “June 23 at 5:03 p.m.”

He blinked. “How precise.”

“The exact day and time I turn forty.”

“I see.” He turned the second drink Joe had brought him in a circle, as if deciding the angle at which to attack, raised the glass halfway to his mouth, then set it down. “So you’re officially on the market as of then.”

“Yes.” Marie nodded firmly. No, she hadn’t planned to draw that line, but having done so felt like the right and smart thing to do. By that night, newly forty-year-old Marie would either have summoned her courage to confess her feelings to Quinn, or decided there was no point and it was time to move on. Hanging on like this was only going to get harder and harder.

“And then you’ll, what, sign up with a competitor’s dating website?”

“I … guess so.” She smiled at him, sick to her toes. How could she even think about dating anyone else feeling this way about Quinn? Obvious answer: she’d have to. “Or I’ll ask friends if they know of anyone. Do you know of anyone?”

He did drink this time, a substantial gulp. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Tell me about him.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Well, is he handsome?” She didn’t care. This was torture.

“Hmm. I’m not the one to ask about that, Marie. He’s not my type.”

“Fun to be with?”

“Yeah, I’d say he’s pretty fun.”

Somehow she kept smiling with a mouth that felt weighted. “Intelligent?”

“He is.”

“In decent shape?”

“Sure.”

“Revoltingly wealthy, I hope?” Like she cared …

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

Marie scowled comically. “There must be something horribly wrong with him.”

“Huh?” He gave her a sidelong look. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, obviously, if he’s that perfect and not seeing anyone there’s some ghastly defect you haven’t figured out yet.”

Quinn chuckled without humor. “Oh, you cynic.”

“Me? I’m not the one dating a parade of women young enough to be my daughters.” She meant to tease, but bitterness showed through. A lot of bitterness. Bitterness that belonged to her ex-husband and his child-bride, not to Quinn, who’d suffered through a betrayal of his own when his wife left him for another man.

Quinn’s face darkened. “I gave up that chase, I told you.”

Marie gathered herself together. Enough. This was horrible, and getting them nowhere.

“Quinn, something isn’t right tonight. We seem unable to do anything but bicker.”

He straightened his broad shoulders, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re right. Sorry. I’m on edge tonight.”

“Work?” She wondered if something was going wrong with one of the companies he’d invested in. Though he didn’t strike her as the type who’d risk more than he could comfortably afford to lose.

“Sort of.” He frowned, staring into his gin. “There’s a situation I’ve been counting on working out, and I’m starting to wonder if I’ve been reading it wrong. It’s not like me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ve invested a lot. Time, energy, emotion.”

“Quinn.” She leaned toward him, heart melting at his distress, put her hand on his forearm and squeezed the strong muscle reassuringly. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Yes, actually.” He took another too-large sip of his martini. “Come to dinner with me at Dream Dance Steakhouse.”

Marie’s jaw dropped. The restaurant was one of Milwaukee’s finest, and one of its most expensive. Not exactly a buddy date. “Wow. That’s … a little out of my—”

“I’m inviting you. My treat. We can go dancing afterward.”

League was how she’d been going to finish her sentence. Now she wasn’t sure she was hearing correctly. “Dancing.”

“Swing dancing at the Jazz House. If you’d enjoy that.”

If? Was she dreaming? Quinn Peters, god among men, was inviting peasant-stock Marie on what sounded like a real man-woman date? She ducked her head to avoid showing her blush and took a solid breath so her voice would come out casually. “That sounds fun. When were you thinking of going?”

“Next Friday? Our regular night?”

“Sure.” She was dreaming. If an operator like Quinn wanted her, he would have made that clear on their first meeting. Right? God, this was confusing. She reached instinctively for her drink, suddenly as thirsty for alcohol as he seemed to have been all night, took a big clumsy slug and started coughing.

“You all right?” He thumped her firmly on the back, a big brother’s touch. He had told her months ago that she reminded him of his sister. Marie had been so humiliated, she’d invented a brother he could remind her of, too. Only he hadn’t looked humiliated at all at the comparison.

“Fine. I’m fine.” She wiped her streaming eyes. “Just haven’t learned how to swallow yet.”

“You might want to try.” His hand lingered briefly between her shoulder blades, then slid slowly down her spine before he finally broke the contact.

Not quite a lover’s touch, but not a brother’s, either.

Marie reacted as if he’d kissed her, desire running hot for more of the same. Help.

Next Friday. Dinner and dancing. She’d be in his arms out on the floor, possibly held close against him. If a pat on the back got her this heated, she’d end that night up in flames.

Still without knowing whether this man she burned for had any interest in putting them out.