Dating by Design Series - Box Set

by Jennifer Peel

  “Well, I don’t know what he is. He came home when I told him over the phone. I wanted to tell him in person, but he thought since I wouldn’t tell him over the phone it was bad news and I didn’t want him to worry more than he has been. I’ve been so tired, and then I started throwing up. Not every day, thank goodness, but enough to know something wasn’t right. And then my period was late. I think he was in denial about what that meant.”

  “Did he say anything after you told him?”

  She bit her lip as if she was embarrassed. “You know him and his colorful vocabulary, but basically, he cursed the bearskin rug at my dad’s place and blamed our months of, uh . . . celibacy.”

  My training went out the window with that surprising bit of news; my eyebrows raised.

  “I made Zander wait until we were married.”

  I sat back, stunned and impressed. And proud of Meg for holding her ground.

  “I know it’s shocking. Zander being the most shocked of all. But I guess it made us both more anxious and neither of us were really thinking about birth control.”

  “So is the news unwelcome to him?” I tried to ask delicately.

  She shrugged and the tears reappeared. “He wouldn’t say. He came home and paced and paced, sometimes he stopped and stared at me, but he said nothing until he left to go to the gym. He said he needed to think.”

  Our smoothies arrived, but neither of us made a move to taste them. Instead, I leaned forward and rested my hand on hers. I tried my best to wear the hat of friend more than clinical psychologist. Most importantly, I had to remember that Zander wasn’t Douglas, so it didn’t cloud my advice or the comfort I tried to offer. Though I had my worries, given Zander’s behavior and how much his lifestyle had changed in the past several months since he’d entered into a relationship with Meg.

  “It’s not uncommon for men to be afraid about impending fatherhood.”

  Meg sat up straight, her eyes brightened.

  “For many, it means facing their own mortality and fears about whether they can be a good father and provider. Given what you’ve told me and what I witnessed at Kenadie’s wedding about Zander’s parents, I could see why he might feel inadequate since he didn’t have a good example. And men worry that their wives will no longer be their lovers, but instead only a mother. For Zander that might be especially hard to deal with right now since he’s barely had you to himself.”

  She nodded her head. “That all makes sense, but what if he doesn’t want the baby?”

  I felt a stabbing pain in my heart for her and myself. Douglas’s words shouted in my head that I’d tricked him and I was on my own. I took a deep, cleansing breath. “I hope that isn’t the case. But you are one of the strongest women I know, and you will handle whatever life throws at you and come out better in the end. Besides, I think the Nanettes and Kenadie will kill him if he doesn’t.”

  She laughed. “That’s true.” She thought for a moment. “But I want him to be happy.”

  “If he can’t find happiness with you and the new little life you carry, he doesn’t deserve it. With that said, give him some time.”

  She sighed as if relieved and took a sip of her smoothie. “Enough about me. How are you? Have you seen Nicholas Wells yet?” Even Meg sounded enamored with him. Not that I could blame her. For anyone who had never met him, I could see the appeal. He came in a very pretty package. Just ask him or People magazine.

  If only I could really talk to her. Not that Zander wouldn’t. Now that she didn’t work there, he shouldn’t, but Zander did a lot of things he shouldn’t do. I gave her a close-lipped smile. “I met him yesterday.”

  “And?” She was dying to know.

  I thought about what I could in good conscience divulge. I twirled some of the loose strands of my hair that had gone back up in a messy bun. “I’m reserving full judgment.”

  Her eyes widened then narrowed. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “Let’s just say he gives your husband a run for his money with how much he loves himself.”

  “That bad?”

  “I’m going to be his relationship manager, if that says anything.”

  “What?” She almost spit out some of her smoothie.

  “I’m sure Zander will fill you in.”

  Her solemn demeanor was back. “Hopefully by the time I get home he’ll be speaking to me again.”

  I was about to answer her, but it was unnecessary. A harried Zander came crashing through the door. The few patrons and employees all focused on him. He was still in his workout clothes, with sweat-drenched hair.

  The weight of the world fell off him when he zeroed in on Meg and took long strides to our table.

  “Darlin’, there you are.” He sounded out of breath, which was saying something. By the way his workout clothes fit him, he was obviously in prime shape. Not like I was checking him out, but I imagined Meg must be very pleased.

  Meg sat up, pensive. “How did you know I was here? Is everything all right?”

  Zander took his wife’s hands and pulled her up, holding her as close as he could. He kissed the top of her head.

  She melted into him.

  “I came home and you weren’t there. I’ve been trying to call you. You mentioned a smoothie sounded good earlier, so I thought I would check here first before I started calling our friends.” He leaned away from her and his eyes landed on her abdomen. “I was worried about you and . . .” he swallowed hard, “the baby.”

  Meg flung herself back against her husband and clung to him.

  I had a feeling they would work it all out. It looked like Zander would surprise me once again.

  Chapter Four

  My fingers felt numb. They were refusing to dial Nick Wells’s number. I knew I had to. His gorgeous face was plastered all over our website now. The phones hadn’t stopped ringing and the online inquiries for more information on how to become a client were overwhelming. Kenadie had been smart to hire more relationship managers and an additional admin assistant. My life was about to get more chaotic, and not only because of my new role, but because I evaluated each prospective new client. Not all applicants made it to me. It was surprising how many people didn’t pass the background check or wrote in questionable, bordering-on-frightening, answers on their questionnaires, like fetishes and dark fantasies. We had called the authorities more than once.

  I was stalling. The connection meeting was in two days, which meant I should try and see him tonight so I could do my research tomorrow and choose three unlucky, I mean potential women to suggest as his first victims, oops, dates.

  I must have picked up my phone a dozen times. I organized my already neat desk. Sent a few emails. I needed an if-then strategy to motivate me. If Kenadie emailed me one more time asking if I called him, I’d do it without delay. That was good. A thoughtful, mature way to deal with procrastination. I wasn’t buying it either. I picked up my phone and, unfortunately, my fingers worked this time.

  One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Four rings. I was hanging up.

  “Who is this?” his deep voice growled.

  No! I was taken aback by the gruff manner in which he answered, so I paused.

  “Who is this?” he repeated.

  “Kate Morgan.” I tried to keep the bite out of my tone. But really, who answered the phone that way?

  “How did you get my number?”

  “I googled it.” Okay, so that was a little biting, more like a nibble, but he deserved it after being so rude.

  “That’s impossible.”

  “You’re probably right. Kenadie from Binary Search gave me your number. We met Monday.”

  He paused for a moment. “You’re the psychologist.”

  “That would be me. I will also be acting as your relationship manager, which is why I’m calling.”

  “Right, the date phase.”

  I swore I heard a hint of mocking. “It’s an important step and part of our process.”

  A heavy breath came through on his
end. “Fine. When should we have our date?”

  “If you’re available tonight I can make reservations at Atlas in The St. Regis.” I knew one of the sous chefs there. It was a high-end place, at least for Atlanta. I’m sure there were pricier places in LA.

  “That won’t work.”

  He couldn’t know how happy that made me. “Perhaps tomorrow?” Please say no.

  “Meet me at Jack’s on the River tonight at seven. I’m doing some workshops at the performing arts centre nearby. I’ll try to be on time.”

  Who was this guy? His rudeness was off the charts. If this were a real date, it wouldn’t be happening. But since I was getting paid to go out with him—wait. That sounded awful. Maybe Zander was right, being a relationship manager was akin to being a pimp. I couldn’t think like that.

  “Can I give you some advice?” I felt if I didn’t I wasn’t doing my job.

  Silence on his end. Not surprising.

  “I hope when you start to see the women who have not only paid a nice sum of money to use our services here but have an expectation that we are pairing them with someone they deserve, that you treat them with more deference than you just showed me. I’ll see you at seven.” I hung up.

  I was going to get myself fired at this rate, or at the very least removed as his relationship manager, which wouldn’t be awful for me, except my evaluation of him seemed to be spot on. I was determined to protect the company from him. How? I had no idea.

  ~*~

  I ran home to change into something more dinner appropriate. Not because I was trying to impress Nick Wells, but because I would do my best to represent the values we aspired to at Binary Search. Nick Wells was the last man I would ever want to attract. He went against almost every rule on my list. Being a possible narcissist at the top, not to mention he was a celebrity. Two of the biggest rules broken right there. Celebrity divorce rates were some of the worst. And that lifestyle was a breeding ground for selfish behavior. Not that I was too concerned that a celebrity would ever want to date me, much less marry me, but I had to add it to my list just in case. I liked to cover all my bases.

  Atlanta traffic was alive and well, so I had to rush to change. I climbed the steps to my main level from my first-level garage. I took a moment though, before I headed to my third level, to admire my home. It was the first place I had owned. I didn’t count my brief six months with Douglas. That was all a lie anyway—he never owned the place like he said. One of his many, many lies. It made me even more grateful as I looked over my piece of heaven that it was truly my own. I was in love with the openness and the dark wood with taupe doors and crown molding. The built-in bookcases that framed the fireplace were my favorite. They overflowed with my trusted friends.

  I hustled up to my bedroom and headed to the section of my closet that I had designated as “dating” clothes. These were clothes that spoke to the kind of person I wanted to attract and represented how I wanted to present myself. Most importantly, they were clothes I felt good in. I had a feeling I would need all the help I could get being around a man who worshipped himself and undoubtedly had a following of worshippers. Thankfully, he was well past the height of his popularity, but judging by the women in our office, people still recognized him and would love the chance to fawn all over him.

  This could be a long night.

  I chose a red wraparound dress that accentuated my waist and showcased my legs, but still fell nicely just above the knee. It was classy with a hint of fun. Exactly the kind of person I hoped to attract and strived to be. I knew I fell short, especially in the fun department, but I was trying to be better. More outgoing. More like the me before Douglas, though I could never be the same after what he did to me.

  I let my caramel hair down and added a few waves to it before giving it a little volume. For makeup, I went with a bronzy neutral look to bring out my blue eyes. When it was all said and done, I felt nowhere near ready to face Nick. Not only did he bring up bad memories for me, but I felt so foolish—once upon a time, it was my dream to be Kate Wells. Thankfully, my frontal lobe was fully attached now, and I was smart enough to know that men like him should be avoided like white after Labor Day. Which reminded me, I should probably throw away the six seasons I owned of On the Edge on DVD. I remembered squealing every time a new season came out. Sometimes I missed that naïve young woman and the innocent way she used to look at the world.

  I slid into some beige pumps to match my skin tone and hustled back out to my car and traffic. Maybe Nick didn’t care, but I planned on being on time. The traffic on 75 had abated, making my goal more realistic. My nerves had not quelled. I wasn’t sure why I was so nervous. I had zero interest in him, but there was something intimidating about him. He made me feel like I had to keep my guard up, and that wasn’t really my style. I was by no means a laid-back person, but for many years now, I felt most comfortable observing, only engaging when I had to. Like my mother was quick to point out, it was probably why I wasn’t married or even in a relationship, that and she thought I was too selective. My problem was I hadn’t been selective enough.

  I put on some Etta James and ran through a checklist that I might give a patient. Try to find positive meaning in the unpleasant task, control my negative thoughts, reward myself when it was completed. I liked that last one. The question was, how would I reward myself? Maybe that new handbag I wanted, or comforter? Depending on the night, maybe both.

  By the time I made it to the restaurant off the Chattahoochee River, I still wasn’t looking forward to it, but I was calm. Thank you, Etta James, you’ve yet to disappoint me.

  The charming restaurant reminded me of a quaint chateau, with blooming azalea bushes adding to the ambiance. Nick got a point for that. If the food was half as good as how beautiful the exterior was, I would have thought I’d found a new favorite place. Assuming he didn’t come here ever except this once. Dean Martin could be heard on the sound system for the patio diners enjoying the river view. I was already in love with this place. If only I wasn’t meeting Nick.

  I took a deep breath and steadied myself as I entered ten minutes early. I was ready to fall more deeply in love with the interior, but I couldn’t believe what was surrounding me in the waiting area. On second thought, I shouldn’t have been surprised. Nick was everywhere. It was like a homage to him and On the Edge. He was staring at me at every turn. His brooding persona jumped off each picture, whether he was in a police officer uniform, his signature tight jeans, let’s not forget shirtless, or holding his TV partner and love interest. There I stood looking at each photo on the surrounding walls before I ever made it to the hostess. I wasn’t even sure why. Perhaps I was astounded at his arrogance to have dinner in what could easily be called the Church of Nicholas Wells, or maybe because that’s what several other people waiting to be seated were doing.

  Sadly, I recognized each episode where the shots of him were taken. Like the one where he saved his partner, Samantha, from a fiery car crash. He did his own stunts, something else he bragged about on his questionnaire. I’m ashamed to admit I still got a little fluttery remembering that scene. It was sexy and sweet and we’d all been rooting for them to get together.

  His character Talon Fox was brooding, yet sweet and attentive to his partner’s needs and wants. There was even a humble quality. One I had found endearing. Thoughts of Nick in my office easily vanquished any lingering feelings for his character, Talon Fox, out of my mind. Talon Fox was an illusion. I was a fool to ever believe that Nick was like the character he played.

  In the midst of what I would call my horrified fascination, I was approached by a man.

  “Hello.”

  His smooth deep voice with a hint of Southern charm turned my head. I was caught by a pair of oddly familiar enigmatic blue eyes. They were framed by crinkles and belonged to a distinguished older gentleman with the finest head of silver hair I had ever seen. He was dressed impeccably, too, in a gray button-down and dark slacks. If only he were younger, were my first
thoughts. I didn’t date anyone more than ten years older than me. Divorce rates for wider age gaps were too risky.

  I stopped my ogling long enough to say, “Hello.”

  His eyes took me in, in a way that I hadn’t experienced for a long time. His smile said he liked what he saw.

  I was both flattered and cautious. And I couldn’t shake the feeling that I knew him.

  “I’m Jack.” He held out his hand.

  I placed my slender fingers in his capable hand, refined by time, and tilted my head. “As in Jack-on-the-River Jack?”

  His deep melodic laugh rumbled through me. “The very one. And you are?” He kept my hand firmly but gently in his own.

  “Kate Morgan.”

  His mysterious blue eyes lighted. “Ah, Kate, we’ve been waiting for you.”

  I slid my hand out of his. “You have?”

  “You’re on our reservations list.”

  “Oh.” I was surprised Nick had made the effort.

  Jack gave me a grin that stirred familiarity again.

  “Have we met before?” I asked.

  He stepped intimately close and revealed how fantastic he smelled. It was as if I stepped outside after a good rainstorm. “Believe me darlin’, I would have remembered you.”

  Wow. A shiver ran down my spine. Who was this man, and did he have a younger brother? Son perhaps? Oh my gosh. A thought crashed into me. I looked at the nearest photo of Nick and then back at the debonair man next to me. They couldn’t be. Could they? I took another peek of Nick.

  “Are you a fan?” Jack asked.

  “Not particularly, no,” I blurted before I thought.

  Jack’s laughter once again consumed the space. “I like you, darlin’.”

  I was going to ask Jack how he knew the man who adorned his establishment’s walls, but it became painfully apparent who he was when the doors opened and in strutted his son with the loveliest teen girl by his side. There was no question it was Nick’s daughter, Skylar; she was the spitting image of her model mother Alessandria, right down to the long legs and emerald eyes. Except her eyes had an innocent quality to them. She had an aura of a guileless creature. Even the way she braided her long blonde hair to the side spoke of her purity.