A Match Made in Heaven
by Colleen Coble
“Coble’s books have it all, romance, sass, suspense, action. I’m content to read a book that has any one of those but to find an author like Coble who does all four so well is my definition of bliss.”
Mary Connealy, author of Doctor in Petticoats
Copyright © 2012 by Colleen Coble
First published in the United States by Barbour 2003
A MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidences are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental. The Publisher does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
All Rights Reserved.
Cover Design by Kim Killion
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DEAR READER,
I think most of us have been on a blind date at some point. They can be disastrous or they can lead to a life changed for the better. Sometimes the ones we love who know us best can pick just the right mate. . .I loved Callie’s independence and I hope you do too.
Drop me a note at [email protected] and let me know what you think. I love hearing from readers!
Love, Colleen
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 1
“I’ll have my wife with me. She’s wanting to see something of the town before we move.” Warren Miller’s voice was clipped as he obviously brought the call to a close. “She was hoping your wife could give her some pointers on where to shop in Heaven.”
“I’m not married,” Nick Darling said. And not in any hurry to be, he added silently. Not after Michelle. He winced and waited for what he knew was coming.
“Well, bring a date then. Barbara is eager to know more about the town. See you tonight at seven.”
The phone clicked, and Nick sat with the dial tone ringing in his ears. Hanging up the phone, he swivelled in his chair and stared out the window. Bougainvillea bloomed in massive banks of hot pink and red, and saguaro cacti raised thick arms against the brilliant blue sky. Another day in paradise.
As far as Nick was concerned, Heaven, Arizona lived up to its name. In this friendly little town it was hard to believe the hustle and bustle of Phoenix was less than an hour away. Heaven had a lot going for it: friendly people, a strong sense of community, affordable housing. But not many single women. He pursed his lips and thought about his dilemma.
There were women back in Phoenix he could call, business associates mostly. But this was late notice for most of the women he knew, and most women wouldn’t relish the drive. This contract was too important to risk losing. He strummed his fingers on the desk, scattered with papers and candy bar wrappers. A sweet little old lady had sat with him the last two Sundays at church. Maybe she would have an idea of whom he could invite. What was her name? Oh, yes, Lucille Stoddard.
He grabbed the phone book and flipped through the pages. Ah, there she was. Quickly dialing the number, he prayed she would have an idea.
“Hello.” Mrs. Stoddard’s voice was strong and confident. She sounded more like someone in her thirties than the seventy-something she looked.
“Hi, Mrs. Stoddard, this is Nick Darling.” Would she remember his name? “From church,” he added hastily.
Mrs. Stoddard seemed to be as alert as her voice, for she didn’t hesitate. “Nick dear, how lovely to hear from you! Are you settling into our little community all right? And call me Lucille, dear boy. We don’t stand on formality here in Heaven.”
It felt strange to call an older lady by her first name, but Nick made an attempt. “Ah, Lucille, I have a favor.”
“I told you to call me if you needed anything. What can I do for you?”
“A client is coming into town with his wife, and I need a female companion to help entertain her.”
“And you thought of me? Surely you can find someone your own age.” Her voice took on a teasing quality. “I’m only joking, Nicky—don’t panic. As luck would have it, I have three unattached granddaughters. Let me think—which one would be right for you?”
“I’m not interested in a relationship,” he hastened to add. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea. The last thing he wanted was someone meddling with his love life. He could manage to mess it up without any help.
“I would treat her to a fancy dinner as thanks for entertaining the client’s wife, of course,” he added.
Lucille seemed not to hear his protests, and she swept on with her plans. “You’re an architect, aren’t you, Nicky?”
He hated to be called Nicky, but how did you tell a sweet, grandmotherly type that? He swallowed. “Yes.”
“My granddaughter Callie is just whom you need to meet. She’s an interior designer, very successful. You two will make a darling couple.” She laughed, a soft tinkle that raised Nick’s alarm. “A darling, Darling couple, just as your name says.”
He gritted his teeth. She was only trying to help. “It’s just one date,” he reminded her. And an interior designer was the last type of woman he would be interested in. If he ever married, he wanted the old-fashioned kind of woman who stayed home and raised the kids, not a businesswoman. Someone as different from Michelle as desert from ocean.
She breezed past his caution again. “I’ll call Callie and arrange it. What time?”
“We have reservations at seven at Pedro’s. It’s that Mexican restaurant on Thunderbird.”
“I know it well, Nicky. Callie lives at 122 Cholla Lane. You need to pick her up around six-thirty to get there in time. Do you know where that is?”
He assured her he could find the house and hung up with a sense of relief. He just hoped she didn’t raise her granddaughter’s hopes that something would come of the date. He was much too busy to pursue anyone, even if he was so inclined, which he wasn’t. He wondered idly what this Callie was like. Of course the fact that she was available at a moment’s notice to go out with a man she’d never met said it all.
§
Callie Stevens turned the lamp over in her hands and considered it. The base was made from a worn cowboy boot and the lampshade from an authentic cowboy hat. The Driscolls would love it. Now if she could find a table to set it on. Maybe one of those made out of peeled logs. Though the Driscolls were from Boston, they were wild about the cowboy stuff. It was her job to incorporate it seamlessly into their five-thousand-square-foot home, but she thrived on the challenge.
The cell phone in her purse trilled, and she balanced the lamp against her hip while she dug in her purse for the phone. She managed to answer it on the fifth ring. “Design Solutions, this is Callie.”
“Callie, you’re free tonight, aren’t you?” Her grandmother’s voice was excited.
“Hi, Gram. Um, I guess.” Her heart sank at the thought of giving up her quiet evening. After the flurry of New York for the past two weeks, she’d been looking forward to plopping down in front of the TV and vegging out. But it was hard to deny her grandmother. Guilt rippled through her. She should have made plans to see Gram tonight without being prodded. It had been two weeks since she’d stopped by.
“Got something tast
y cooking for supper?” she asked, forcing a jovial tone into her voice.
“Nick Darling is a new architect in town. He’s been sitting with me in church the past two weeks and joined the church while you were in New York. He just called, and he needs a date to help him entertain some important new clients. I told him you’d be happy to help him out.” She gave a soft chuckle. “I knew you wouldn’t have any other plans for tonight. You never do.” Her voice held more than a trace of reproach.
Callie gritted her teeth. “Gram, I’ve told you I don’t want you to do any more matchmaking for me, and I know Melissa and Mattie feel the same way.”
Her grandmother barreled over her objections like a four-wheeler over a mud track. “I gave him your address. He’s picking you up at six-thirty. Why don’t you wear that soft green dress that swirls so becomingly around your legs? It looks lovely with your auburn hair.”
“Gram, I am not going! I just got back from New York. An evening with strangers is not at all what I want to do with my first evening at home.”
“Well, now, Callie, I don’t know how to reach him. I don’t have the foggiest idea what his business is called. If you don’t go, I’ll have to, and my eyes aren’t what they used to be for night driving.”
Callie let out an exasperated sigh at the plaintive tone in her grandmother’s voice. She’d been boxed into a corner, and they both knew it. “All right, Gram, but I’m giving you fair warning. Do not arrange any more blind dates for me. Your success with Chelsea was a fluke, and I don’t want you thinking you can meddle like this all the time. I can find my own dates.”
Gram snorted. “When was the last time you went out on a date, Callie? In my day we called a girl your age who was still single an old maid.”
“Is that so bad?” Callie shot back. “I’m perfectly happy by myself. I have Ty, my job, my friends. A man would get in the way.”
“You don’t feel that way, and you know it. A dog is no substitute for a husband, a companion who shares your life.” Gram’s voice was firm. “And I know how you love children. You’re not the tough businesswoman you seem on the outside.”
Callie tried to ignore the voice inside that said her grandmother was right, but it got harder all the time. “Men take one look at me and hightail it away,” she said. “It’s better not to get my hopes up.”
Her grandmother’s voice softened. “Callie, you know I love you, so I’m saying this for your own good. You seem to do everything in your power to make yourself unappealing. You dress in those severe suits and draw your hair back in a tight way that’s so unbecoming. When you talk to a man, you’re all business. You need to let down that guard around your heart.”
“I don’t want to be hurt, Gram.” Callie’s eyes stung, and she blinked the tears away furiously. She didn’t want to be unlovable, but she had no idea how to go about changing herself. Her grandmother was right—she longed for a family of her own. The catch was that she was never going to have it, so she kept burying those dreams under her business goals.
Unfortunately they resurrected at the least invitation.
She swallowed the congealing lump in her throat. “I’ll meet this guy, but don’t expect a miracle. Can you still love me if I never get married?”
“Oh, Darling. You know I love you. I just want you to be happy.”
“I’m fine as I am, Gram. The other girls can have the babies. I’ll make a good babysitter.”
“I haven’t given up hope for you, Callie. I pray every day for God to send the right man your way. I know He’s going to do that. Call me when you get home and let me know how it went. Some friends are coming to look at the new quartz I found while out hiking the other day, so I’ll be here.”
Callie promised to call, then clicked off the phone. She set the lamp down and rubbed her head. A throb was beginning to build behind her eyes. She did better when she focused on her career and turned a blind eye to her private life. Gram’s meddling had stirred up her discontent again.
She didn’t know this Nick Darling, but she already didn’t like him. Architects were usually stuffy, precise men who thought their ideas were the only ones that mattered. And he’d taken advantage of her grandma’s good intentions to intrude on Callie’s life. He was probably a self-centered jerk. But it was only one evening. She could do that much for her grandmother.
She stared at the lamp in distaste. Her shopping was finished for the day. She could no more concentrate on picking out a table than she could shrink her six-foot frame down to five feet six inches. Digging out her platinum Visa card, she paid for the lamp then hurried out to her car. She stopped dead in the parking lot. Where had she parked? The rows of parked cars all looked alike, and she saw no sign of her red Chrysler minivan.
The Arizona sun beat down on her head, but she barely noticed. Why was it so hard to remember where she parked? She was twenty-eight years old, but the simple task of remembering where she parked had eluded her ever since she’d started driving. She bit her lip and castigated herself for being so bubble-headed.
There was no choice but to stroll up and down the rows in the hot sun. Sighing, she tucked the lamp under her arm and trudged down the first row. Her car wasn’t in that row or the next. She went around a white Jeep and barreled into a hard chest.
Strong fingers gripped her forearms. “Ouch! You stepped on my foot,” a deep voice exclaimed.
Callie looked up into eyes as blue as the Arizona sky and just as piercing. The man’s head towered over hers. Those arresting eyes gazed out of a face that was too craggy to be handsome, but too strong to be forgotten. He wore a cowboy hat and jeans that looked as if they’d been made for him. The cowboy boots he wore looked as battered as the one that had been used to create the lamp in her hands.
“Excuse me,” she said. “I didn’t see you.” Men like this one made her nervous. She knew better than to allow herself to be attracted to someone like this guy. The handsome ones always went for the petite cheerleader, not an Amazon like her.
“That was obvious.” He frowned down at her. “I saw you two rows over when I was parking. You lost?”
Her face burned, but not from the sun. “I can’t find my car,” she mumbled.
“What was that?” His firm lips twitched.
She could tell from the amusement on his face that he’d heard her the first time. “I said I can’t find my car,” she snapped.
“Ah. What’s it look like?” His gaze never left her face.
“I don’t need your help,” she said with exasperation. “It’s here somewhere, and I can find it by myself.” She didn’t need the Lone Ranger’s help to find her car.
“I can see that.” His lips twitched again, and he plucked the lamp from her hands. “Let’s try over here.” Before she could protest any further, he led the way down the next row of cars.
Just past a big dually truck she saw the sunflower she’d put on her radio antenna. “There it is! That big truck was hiding it.”
He eyed the flower on her car with obvious amusement. “You don’t look like a flower child. Too starchy and proper.”
She snatched the lamp from his hands. “I didn’t ask for an opinion on my appearance.” Fishing the remote out of her blazer pocket, she pushed the button to unlock the doors. She stashed the lamp in the back then went to the driver’s door.
“You’re welcome,” he called as she slid into the seat, started the van, and backed out of the parking space.
“I could have found it by myself,” she muttered as she pulled away with a screech of her tires. And her grandmother wanted to hook her up with a species like that. She hoped this Nick Darling wasn’t so crude and obnoxious. He probably wouldn’t be as cute either. She made a face at herself in the rearview mirror. Not that she was interested in the neanderthal type anyway.
She parked in the garage and went inside. Ty, her border collie, greeted her at the door. She took him for a walk then rushed back home to shower and get ready for the evening. As the water coursed thro
ugh her hair, she considered what she should wear. She didn’t want to send the wrong message to this guy. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was a spinster out to attract any eligible man. A suit would be a good choice, but she rebelled at the idea after what her grandmother had said. Surely she could find something in between making a fool of herself and looking as attractive as possible.
She pulled on a robe and dried her hair. Scrunching up her face in the mirror, she rolled her dark red hair in its usual French twist. She turned her face to the side and considered it. High cheekbones, dark brown eyes, nothing that seemed so very different from any other woman. What was it about her that drove the men off? Just her height? Or maybe Gram was right, and her attire sent out the wrong signal. But she was comfortable in her business attire. She felt more in charge and focused when she wore a suit.
She went to her closet and riffled through her clothes. Nothing seemed right. The green dress Gram had mentioned was too pretty to waste on a guy she never intended to see again. Her black suit was too severe for a dinner date. Her hand hovered over an orangish-red silk pantsuit. It was too dressy, but it made her feel almost as confident as a suit but had feminine detailing. With determination she yanked it off the hanger and slipped it on. A touch of makeup, and Callie thought she looked presentable. She slipped her feet into matching pumps and went to the living room.
An overstuffed sofa in soft yellow and blue flowered chintz made for lounging was splashed with yellow pillows. A brightly patterned rug in blues and yellows covered most of the nondescript tile in the living room. Coordinating chairs juxtaposed against the other wall added balance. She’d color-washed the walls in three tones of yellow, and the color filled the room with warmth. Too bad she spent so little time here.
Her home was the antithesis of the Callie Stevens most people thought they knew. Where she was formal and reserved, her house radiated warmth and relaxation. It was a place that invited her to kick off her shoes and eat pizza straight from the delivery box. And that was precisely the effect she had designed for it because that was the real Callie. Would her life be any different if she allowed more people to see that side of her?
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