Читать книгу Making Mr. Right - Jamie Denton - Страница 7

CHAPTER TWO

CINDY’S first step on any project was making a list. This one she titled: Parker Project.

With little input from him, Cindy’s list grew. Every item she added, she expected him to defend himself, as she would if someone decided to take her apart, piece by piece. He sat instead, looking fascinated while she squirmed. At last, the column of items she’d written seemed complete.

“Can you think of anything else?” she asked him, turning the pad so he could look her list over.

It wasn’t as long as Cindy had anticipated and some of the items would be simple.

“If I knew what I needed to change, I wouldn’t need help from you, would I,” he teased, then scowled as he looked at it.

“What?”

He pointed to the first item on the list.

Workaholic? He hadn’t gotten past the first item?

“What can I do about that?” he asked as if the problem was something he couldn’t possibly help or change.

“Quit working around the clock,” she said. “Don’t worry,” she added at his blank look. “I’ll remind you several times between now and the reunion.”

“And who, do you suggest, will do my work?”

“You. It would help, PC, if when you aren’t working, you could actually pay attention to other things. Like the person you’re with,” she added as an example. “You could occasionally think of your friends. You just can’t ignore people for months on end.” She grinned to salvage her pride for bringing it up.

His scowl deepened.

“Like me,” she tried again. “We’re supposed to be friends, but I often don’t hear from you for months. I didn’t even know your new address.” She gestured at their surroundings.

“My phone number didn’t change. You can call me any time.”

She ignored him. “Friends—and especially someone you might want to marry,” she clarified so he wouldn’t realize it was personal, “tend to want to know they’re important to you, that you think of them from time to time. They want to know what’s going on in your life.”

“You never seem to mind,” he pointed out.

Cindy bit back the words she wanted to say. Instead she took a deep breath. “I know you’ve been busy. But I don’t count in this discussion,” she said calmly. “You didn’t say you wanted to marry me. Someone you expect to marry will want your attention.” Her lips twisted on the words as if she was eating a sour pickle.

But he was still on the last subject. “I consider you my closest friend,” he said.

“But I never know on a regular basis what’s going on with you.” She let him draw her in. “Why didn’t you tell me Flo was working for you?” she asked. “Or invite me over to see your house after you moved?”

“She just started since I last saw...” He let the words trail off.

“And that’s been?”

“Maybe two months,” he said sheepishly after mulling it over.

“Six weeks,” she told him.

“You can call me anytime,” he told her again.

“I know,” she agreed. “But until you decide to call me, your head is so far in the clouds it’s a waste of time trying to find out what’s going on with you. You’re working whether you’re at work or not.”

“I’ve been there when you needed me,” he said half defensively.

“Yes,” she admitted. Since junior high, he’d listened to every problem, helped her study for tests, been there in hundreds of ways. The only thing she hadn’t been able to talk to him about was boys, probably because he’d always been the only one on her mind. Three years ago, when she’d been trying to get up the nerve to buy her first house, he’d listened for hours on end. He’d made a mathematical chart only a genius could figure out to prove she could afford to do what she wanted. He’d given advice when needed and when asked. But day to day, if she didn’t have a problem or he didn’t have something specific he wanted to talk to her about, he was zoned out. “You’ve always been there when I needed you, PC.”

“That’s another thing,” he said, raising one finger. “Do you think I should insist my old classmates call me Parker? Doesn’t that sound more...more...”

“Like someone Mallory would marry,” she finished for him.

“More adult.” He frowned at her as if he wanted to argue with the way she’d said it. “Does PC sound too much like a childish nickname?”

Too much like who you were? Not like who you want to be. “It’s you, PC.” She smiled. “Parker Chaney. Politically Correct. Personal Computer expert. It’s even your company name,” she added.

“It seemed right at the time.” He shrugged.

“You could encourage everyone at the reunion to call you Chaney, like they did throughout the Times article.”

“They called me PC,” he reminded her.

“Just in the first paragraph,” she said, quoting, “‘Even the name Parker Chaney’s friends and close associates call him is synonymous with the industry his company dominates. Personal Computers. No one who owns or touches one has been untouched by PC, Inc. The company’s faster, smarter and better innovations barrage the technological market on an almost daily basis.’”

“You memorized it?” His sky-blue eyes lit.

“I read it enough times to remember it,” she said, lifting one shoulder.

His crooked grin matched the way hers felt. “I’m not an especially thoughtful friend, am I?” He reached across the table to cover her hand with his. Bracing herself for the normal electrical charge she got at his touch, she was pleasantly surprised when it didn’t happen. She’d managed to numb herself, she thought triumphantly. Or maybe the message that there was no longer any hope had gotten through to her brain and her body was shutting down her reactions to him in acceptance.

He looked dazed, as startled as she’d ever seen him. She squirmed self-consciously. Maybe her body hadn’t reacted, but had her expression given something away?

He lifted his hand, gingerly rubbing his palm, then laced his fingers together and rested his hands carefully on his side of the table.

“Whatever is happening with you, whatever you’re doing, you’ve always been a three-in-the-morning friend,” she told him. “That means a lot to me.”

He was scowling again. “And what, exactly, is a three-in-the-morning friend?”

“Don’t you remember my dad talking about that when we were young?” Since his own father had taken off when Parker was small, he’d hung around with her and her dad a lot.

Parker shook his head.

“It isn’t necessarily the people you see every day, or the person you think you’d call,” she explained. “It’s someone you wouldn’t hesitate to contact anytime—day or night—if you needed help. Even at three in the morning. For any kind of help. You’ve always been that kind of friend for me, PC. I want you to know how much I appreciate it.”

“You make it sound...past tense.” He looked downright uneasy with the thought. “That isn’t going to—”

“I was thinking about it the other day...after you asked me to help you,” she interrupted. “With Mallory?”

His eyes were the color of a cloudy day now.

“If... when,” she corrected, “you marry Mallory, it will change.” She stopped him with a raised hand as he opened his mouth to protest. “We’ll still be friends. I know I’ll be able to come to you with almost anything.”

“We’d be family then.” His voice emphasized the words determinedly.

“You’ll be my brother-in-law. Wouldn’t it seem strange to call you for help instead of my sister?”

“You’d be calling both of us.”

“I love Mallory but I could never call her with my problems at three o’clock in the morning,” she said quietly.

“But you guys are close.” He looked guilty.

That wasn’t Cindy’s intent. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I love Mallory dearly, but she’s not a callme-with-your-problems-at-three-in-the-morning type person. But it will be fun having someone I feel so close to as a brother-in-law. What a change of pace!” She managed a short laugh. “A brother-in-law I will actually know.”

“Nothing will change,” he assured her. Or maybe he was reassuring himself. Then he sat up straighter, thumping the list that was still in front of him. “Well, I guess some things better change or all this is a pipe dream.”

She grinned at him, her very best friend as long as she could remember. “I’m not losing a friend, I’m gaining family.” She’d missed having ‘family’ since her parents’ death in a freak weather accident when she was fifteen years old. “Who would have guessed,” she forced a lighthearted tone into her voice, “that I would ever know someone as important as you, let alone be related. I guess it’s kind of unrealistic of me to expect to hear from you more. I do keep track, though,” she added. “I saw the interview on CNN last month.”

“You did?”

She nodded. “You were great.”

“I sounded like a total egghead.” He was still studying her with that bemused and confused look.

“You sounded very impressive, PC,” she said. “You managed to make the interviewer laugh a couple of times. I was proud of you.”

“I was proud of me, too,” he admitted, quieter than he’d been. “I am getting better at that sort of thing.”

“Do you have any choice with all the practice you’re getting?”

“Nah, I guess not.”

Cindy got irritated with herself. She was sounding as if she were the charter member of his Admiration Society again. She stiffened her spine and returned to their original subject. “You’ll never be my brother-in-law if you don’t marry Mallory.” She somehow managed to keep the bittersweet pain out of her voice as she pointed to the list. “We’d better get busy with the stuff you aren’t so good at.”

His smile faded and he turned his attention to the second item. “Clothes?”

“We’ll go through your closet in a little while,” Cindy suggested.

Parker pointed to the next item and scowled. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

Cindy pulled the list over and added Habit of Scowling to the bottom of it. “You need a decent haircut, PC. You need something with a little style. We’ll get you an appointment with someone really good. I know a stylist downtown who’d be perfect... has great taste and a good eye,” she raved enthusiastically.

Parker looked skeptical. “The guy does your hair?”

Cindy knew him too well to think he was insulting her; he must be trying to figure out how she knew him. “He bought my last house,” she explained.

“A definite sign of great taste.” Parker grinned and moved on, showing exactly how unimportant he thought his hairstyle was, despite his initial response.

“We should check into getting you contacts,” she said as his finger tapped at the next word: Glasses. It had a question mark beside it. “Or if you don’t want contacts, surely your eye doctor has more fashionable frames than those.”

“What’s wrong with these?”

“Nothing if you don’t mind looking like you bought cheap magnifying eyeglasses at the discount store.”

Parker looked up at her, flushing, then down at the nail he’d been flicking against the list.

“You don’t, PC,” Cindy protested. “Tell me you didn’t buy those glasses off a display rack in some drugstore.”

“They work.” He met her gaze. “My eyes aren’t that bad. I broke my prescription glasses a couple of years ago when I was out of town and bought some like this to get me through the emergency. I discovered I didn’t really need much, just something when I sit staring at a computer screen all day.”

“You’ve worn glasses all your life, Parker Chaney.”

“Mom used to make me go to the eye doctor at least once a year,” he said. “But when mine broke and I didn’t have time...”

“In how many years?”

“Five, maybe six,” he muttered.

Cindy pointed to the pad in front of him. “Put that on the list, PC. Top of the list. First thing Monday morning. You have to get an appointment with an optometrist.” She rolled her eyes. “And I wondered why you were getting such geeky glasses the past few years. I couldn’t imagine that your doctor didn’t have more fashionable ones.”

“But you think I should get contacts,” he pointed out.

“If you can wear them,” she said. “You have beautiful blue eyes, PC. You should let—”

“You think so?” he interrupted. The beautiful blue eyes narrowed. His voice lowered. “You think I have beautiful eyes?”

If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was flirting. She willed herself not to flush but wasn’t certain she was successful. “I’m guessing,” she said sarcastically. “It’s hard to tell behind those things.”

“Should I get colored lenses?”

“Why mess up such an interesting shade?”

He laughed and she realized she’d fallen into his trap. Okay, she’d admitted she thought his eyes were beautiful. They were a very normal blue, except they were flecked with gray. It made them seem the color of the sky on a beautiful day. Studying his gorgeous eyes was exactly the kind of habit she had to break. She looked away.

He finished perusing the list as Flo stuck her head in the door to check on them. “How’s it coming?”

“What do you think?” Cindy invited her in to look over the items they’d come up with.

Flo read over his shoulder, looking as skeptical about some of it as Cindy felt. “You’d better do something about his manners, too.”

Parker looked indignant.

“I don’t mean manner manners,” she said before he could protest. “I mean...you know.” She waved toward Cindy. “The way he moves.”

“You mean mannerisms,” Cindy said, frowning herself.

“Mannerisms,” Flo agreed. “It won’t be as hard as it sounds,” she added a promise for Parker. “He’s very graceful when he’s relaxed or not being self-conscious. You’ve seen him dance,” she added as Cindy nodded. “Like a stick figure. Stick legs.”

“You think we can do something about that,” Cindy wondered aloud, adding Mannerisms to the list.

“He isn’t that bad. Just self-conscious—like he’ll be if all this comes off—he’ll get stiff and awkward. You’ll just have to figure out some way to make him relax. Take him dancing. Practice until he’s comfortable.” Flo danced around the table, holding an imaginary partner. “But not just dancing,” she warned. “You’ll have to take on all those things that make people think he’s a computer geek. Like walking across a room with his shoulders scrunched when he’s concentrating. Or squinting continually,” she pointed out as he did it again.

Cindy tapped the end of her pen at Scowling on the list. “It might help if he got the proper glasses,” she stated.

“You need to practice all of this on Cindy.” Flo snapped her fingers as if the idea had just struck her. But her expression was too smug.

Cindy felt a knot grow in the pit of her stomach. That’s all she needed, someone playing matchmaker while she was trying to fix him up for Mallory.

“Practice on Cindy,” Flo reiterated. “Call her. Take her out. Wine and dine her. Go dancing.”

“Lousy idea,” Cindy protested.

“Practice makes perfect.” Flo ignored her and directed the remark at Parker.

“It’s brilliant,” he said, sprawling back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. His feet tangled with hers under the table.

She shifted uncomfortably and straightened the pad as if it were a stack of papers. “It’s silly. You’ve been comfortable with me forever,” she said. “So how is that going to help you with Mallory?”

Parker fixed her with those intent eyes. “I‘ll—” he searched for a word “—woo you. It would make me plenty uncomfortable and awkward. It will be great practice.”

“It would make us both ‘plenty uncomfortable and awkward.’ And what good would it do? I’m not at all like Mallory.”

He compressed his lips, studying her. “But you know what you like. What one woman likes in a man can’t be that much different from another.”

“Sure. That’s why Mallory’s been married twice and I don’t even have a boyfriend. See? We don’t think alike. Besides, how am I supposed to react to being ‘wooed’?”

“What do you mean?”

“Am I supposed to playact, too? Play like I’m falling in love with you,” she added when he scrunched his face into an incomprehensible mess.

“Just tell me what I do wrong and what I do right.” He spread his hands as if it made all the sense in the world. “That’s all you’d have to do. I learn best from experience.”

She continued to shake her head.

He covered her hand with one of his, letting the corners of his mouth turn up slowly. “If you’re concemed that I’ll get some weird, romantic notion...” He let the statement finish itself.

He’d said it in his most sincere, totally clueless way. It was the remark of the true Parker she knew and loved—the Parker Chaney she had to quit loving. And probably the best way to do that was to turn him into exactly what he wanted to be: someone Mallory would love. “Don’t worry, PC,” she said softly, disengaging her hand from his. “I’m not concerned about anything like that.”

“You don’t trust me.”

“What does trust have to do with anything?” It wasn’t him she didn’t trust. It was herself. “But you can’t experiment with people like you do one of your computer programs.”

“You’re right, Cindy.” Flo met Cindy’s gaze across the top of Parker’s head. “It was a lousy idea. I take it back,” she said, an apology in her eyes.

Cindy sighed and picked up her pen. “Now, shouldn’t we figure out how to deal with all of this realistically if we want to rescue you from geekdom?”

“I’ve done rather well with it,” he said, lifting his straight, perfect nose and showing an arrogance Cindy had seen more and more often the past couple of years. His success hadn’t gone to his head exactly, but he had slowly changed, gained an inner confidence that had been missing when he was younger. He no longer slinked into a room and lurked on the fringes as he had when faced with a crowd back in high school.

Just last week, she’d seen a clip of him on the nightly business news on TV. Some company had just signed a contract with his company and the cameras were there, witnessing the agreement. There had been a presence, a proud swagger, a tall assurance in the way he’d held his shoulders as the camera caught him shaking hands with that company’s CEO. She’d noted his easy grace at the time and felt proud for him. Other people must have seen him the same way because stock in PC, Inc. soared more than four points the next day. But business was different. Social situations tied him in knots.

“You’re right. You’ve done extremely well,” Cindy told him primly, laying the pen back down with a snap. “Anyone who isn’t impressed with who and what you are can just go to hell. Who cares what anyone thinks.”

“Except...” He looked confused.

“Mallory?” Winning the point didn’t give Cindy a bit of satisfaction. Poor Parker. And poor Mallory if she didn’t appreciate what she was getting, Cindy decided.

“She does like heads to turn when she makes an appearance on the arm of some man,” he stated after a moment. The analytical, problem-solving, stepback-and-view-things-from-a-distance side of him had returned.

“She always did that by herself,” Flo said, a touch too wryly.

“But she expects her attachments to be impressive, too.”

Cindy and Flo looked at Parker with amazement. He’d used the word “attachment.” Obviously he was aware that Mallory saw whatever man she was with as another of her accessories. He was coming along.

“Speaking of impressing people. Something else you should think about doing,” Cindy suggested.

“What?”

“You should consider hosting one of the reunion events here,” she told him. The idea had struck when she’d first stepped into his new foyer, though she’d been in too much shock to voice it then. “What better chance to impress everyone?” Including Mallory, she almost heard Parker think as he noted it with a raised eyebrow.

“You don’t think being on the Times cover is enough to impress anyone?”

“Now you’re gloating.”

“He does take extra pleasure out of all his success, doesn’t he,” Flo teased.

“I’ll admit. I look forward to observing a few people’s reactions.”

Cindy chuckled. “Bill Baxter, for one?” He’d been the star running back on the high school football team. He’d dated Mallory throughout their senior year.

“Baxter’s a start.” Parker leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table as he twisted the pen he held between both hands. “What kind of event did you have in mind?”

“A cocktail party maybe? The committee’s tentative schedule said a ‘Get Together’ on Friday evening? But it wasn’t specific. Since nothing was spelled out, I’ll bet they haven’t finalized anything yet. If you called the committee and volunteered to have their Get Together here—kind of a renew-old-acquaintances informal cocktail party—I’ll bet they’d jump on it.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “That sounds logical.”

“And that phrase you should strike from your vocabulary,” Flo said, dishing another warm roll onto each of their plates.

“That sounds logical?”

“Yeah.” Cindy shared another understanding smile with Flo. “Strange as it may seem, PC, not everyone in the world functions strictly on logic,” she added. “Mallory will not be impressed when you ask her to marry you by detailing the logic behind it. You might want to mention feelings or emotion or something similar.”

He laughed. Nothing perked him up like the mention of Mallory.

“She’ll see plenty of logic on her own,” Cindy muttered under her breath. Darn him. And darn me for caring.

Flo chuckled. “I gotta get back to work. Sounds like you guys are doing just fine.” She picked up the pan with the rest of the rolls. “It’s good to see you again, Cindy. I’m glad we’ll be doing it a lot more often.”

“Thanks, Flo. Me, too.”

Flo gave a thumbs-up on her way out.

“Why do I get the feeling I’ve invited the two of you to gang up on me,” Parker asked as she closed the door behind her.

“It’s your imagination.” Cindy reviewed their list again. She didn’t need to worry about still being in love with him when all this was over. If they accomplished everything on here, he’d be a totally different man. Someone she wouldn’t recognize, let alone love. That was good, wasn’t it?

Was it the idea of him changing that made her feel so irritable and sad? Or was it that she was making him over for Mallory?

Cindy looked around her at the luxurious apartment he and Flo had christened the master suite. “I was serious, PC,” she said. “You really don’t need to do anything except bring everyone here. You’ll have the undivided attention of every unmarried female in your class.”

“I was serious, too,” he replied as passionately as she’d ever heard him. “I don’t want anyone who’s only attracted to all this.”

Not even Mallory? She clamped her mouth closed over the next question she wanted to ask. How would they know what Mallory would be interested in. Because she would be interested.

Cindy closed her eyes momentarily. She couldn’t protect him from Mallory; she couldn’t even protect him from himself. She could only do her very best for him and let her feelings for him go. They were hopeless. She’d known it as long as she could remember. It was time to start thinking of him as the brother-in-law he wanted to be.

“Then don’t worry. By the time we’re through with you, she’ll be dazzled by just you.” She forced a smile. “So where do you want to start?”

“First things first. Might as well begin at the beginning.” He leaned closer, eager to do whatever he was required. He grimaced and tapped at the word topping the list: Workaholic.

“You’ll have to do that one yourself,” she reminded him, adding, “but if it makes you feel better, I’ll remind you from time to time.”

“It’s surely a matter of concentration,” he said, causing her to shake her head. That’s what got him into trouble in the first place—concentrating too hard.

He scanned the list again from top to bottom. “Is there anything right with me?” he asked ruefully.

Her heart compressed in her chest. There is so much right with you, Parker Michael Chaney! She loved his honesty. His intensity. His dedication and determination. His genuine caring. His way of making whatever he wanted to happen happen. She released a painfully silent sigh. “The problem has always been perceptions,” she said. “Their perceptions,” she clarified. “Your former classmates. The problem has never been with you.”

“But now, fifteen years later, I have an opportunity to make a new first impression,” he said, pleased with the thought.

“Exactly.”

“I can’t tell you how badly I want to do that.” He squared his shoulders. “So I guess it’s logical... appropriate,” he amended, “to start on this one.” He underlined the second with his finger. “Clothes.” He glanced up expectantly.

“Then I guess we should adjourn to your closet.”