Jennifer Drew – One Bride Too Many: One Bride Too Many / One Groom To Go (страница 15)

Home address? Yes, she had one! She gave it triumphantly.

She was going to ride in a limo, a limo as in prom night, wedding…funeral procession!

“You may, of course, bring an escort if you like. I believe you’re a friend of Mr. Bailey’s grandson, but it’s completely optional whether you choose to invite someone. The event is black tie.”

Tess repeated the date and time, scribbling them on the margin of her list as the call ended.

Was it because she’d liked the portable potty? Or because lime green reminded her of lizards, pond scum and diet lime soda? More likely, Cole’s grandfather was trying to use her to entice his grandson into taking an interest in the business. The Bailey men were leading her on a flimsy rope bridge over very sticky quicksand. She could only hope her common sense was an adequate safety net.

GETTING DATES for Cole proved as easy as locating a free cat. Friday night was a snap. Tess had gotten reacquainted with a classmate, Jordan Collins, who’d recently moved back to the area. She was on the thin side, but Cole hadn’t made a point about size or shape.

“I had a huge crush on Cole in high school,” Jordan admitted when Tess called her that evening after work. “But didn’t everyone? He was so adorable in a naughty sort of way.”

“Certainly not me,” Tess lied.

Saturday was even easier to book. A real friend, Margo Hendricks, volunteered when Tess groused to her over lunch on Tuesday. She’d never met Cole, but a longtime relationship with a live-in boyfriend had fizzled a few weeks earlier.

“I hate all men, and I hate blind dates even more,” Margo said. “But if I do this for you, we’ll be even for all the time you spent listening to me sob about Rick.”

“You’ll be perfect,” Tess declared.

She didn’t have a free minute to tackle a really serious problem until Friday. What should she wear to a reception at the Sherman Arms? She took a long lunch break and covered the stores in the mall, deciding she really couldn’t afford five hundred dollars for a midnight-blue evening gown shimmering with a touch of deep violet even though it made her look thin and feel like glamour personified.

After work she resorted to desperate measures—she went to her sister. Karen agreed to loan anything she owned in exchange for Tess keeping Erika and Erin overnight sometime soon so she and Duke could relive their wedding night at Martino’s Resort and Spa.

“You don’t know what pleasure is until you bask in one of their heart-shaped hot tubs,” Karen enthused.

“I can’t decide which dress to wear,” Tess said, trying not to imagine Cole rising up in a cloud of mist and leading her to a bed covered in black satin sheets. “I’ll have to take some home.”

“Come back tomorrow. It isn’t as if Royal Oak is as far away as the moon.”

“Can’t. Have to work in the morning. Then get my hair done.”

“A French twist, have it piled up in a French twist.”

“Maybe.” It was a good idea, but if she gave her big sister any encouragement, Karen would want to choose everything from eye shadow to toenail polish.

By Friday evening, Tess still hadn’t decided. Five of Karen’s best dresses were spread out on her bed, and she’d just taken off a sixth when the door buzzer summoned her. She slipped into a short pink robe and hoped she didn’t have a visitor who expected to come inside.

Why was she not surprised to see Cole’s image in her spy hole? Was this part of his blind-date ritual, reporting to her on the state of the date?

She opened the door a crack.

“I’m not dressed.”

“I don’t mind.” He sounded sheepish but adamant.

“Good or bad date?”

“Maybe a few suggestions so you can do better next week.”

“I didn’t enlist for the duration of the war!”

“You didn’t enlist at all. You were drafted. Got any popcorn?”

“I’m not dressed for company.” How could she resist his pathetic smile? “Oh, come in.”

“I’ll pretend you’re at the beach. Guess you’d have to take off more for that. Would you be more comfortable if I took my shirt off?”

“Don’t!”

“Just kidding, not that I have much sense of humor left after that date. I thought she was going to attack me with a steak knife.”

“Oh, dear. Let me put some popcorn in the microwave. You’re kidding about the knife, right?”

“I took her to a place that specializes in steaks. She doesn’t eat meat.”

“That’s not unusual.” She set the timer, conscious of Cole hovering near the sleeve of her robe.

“She doesn’t wear leather, she doesn’t step on bugs and she only eats salad made with produce that comes with six different labels guaranteeing no chemicals were used in producing it. She made the waiter bring an empty bag from the kitchen. The lettuce flunked.”

“It’s smart to be careful about what you put in your body.”

Tess felt defensive. After all, he was the one insisting she find dates for him. Could she help it if there were no perfect women on the dating circuit?

“I have no problem with vegetarians, but when I order a twenty-five-dollar porterhouse, I don’t want it seasoned with sarcastic remarks.”

“She lectured, huh? No need to be testy about it with me.”

The popcorn bag inflated, and she tried to guess the moment when the kernels were through exploding but not yet scorched.

“Why do you want popcorn if you’re stuffed with prime beef?”

“I didn’t eat most of it. There’s more.”

“It gets worse?”

“Jordan likes to purify her mind through abstinence—no drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, chocolate…”

“Good for her. She sounds like a great marital candidate.”

“No sex.”

“Oh. Are you sure…I mean, you want someone who doesn’t sleep around.”

“No sex, period.” He looked grim.

“Come on, you’re making that up.”

“Except, of course, we do have to consider the future of the human race, so a weekend schedule is acceptable—after marriage, of course.” He started pacing, hands hooked in his pockets.

“Jordan was pretty intense in high school, now that I think about it. Made straight As, worked as a candy striper at the hospital. Now she has a good job in the insurance industry.”

“She probably spends her days denying payment for doctor-ordered treatment. I won’t go into her health care theories except to say they involve a lot of yogurt. She has naturally curly hair and…” She followed his pacing into the kitchen, then put out her arms like a crossing guard to stop him.

“And she weighs ninety pounds with her pockets full of nails.” He slumped over a kitchen chair.

“Maybe you’re making snap judgments because you really don’t want any blind dates.” She stood over him feeling like a prosecutor with a guilty defendant.

“Untrue. And I’m not being picky. I can’t have a long-term relationship with a woman who calls me a Jack the Ripper of sweet-faced bovines.”

“Speaking of that, did I thank you for helping me unload the comatose-cow quilts?”

“No, and don’t change the subject. She really did call me a serial cattle killer, and she was pointing a steak knife at me when she said it.” He pointed at her little wooden rack of knives on the counter.

“Sorry. She just moved back here.”

“Not your fault. I’m not good at blind dates, I guess.”

“Everyone hates them.”

“Women, too?”

“I’d rather have my eyelashes removed.”

She took the popcorn out of the microwave and yelped when hot steam singed her fingers as she opened the bag.

“Let me. There is one more small point for future reference. Maybe you could find me a more—let’s say substantial woman.”