The phone rang, and Callie picked it up. She wished briefly it would be Mr. Darling calling to say she needn’t bother. But it was her cousin Chelsea’s voice on the other end.
“I just put some chicken enchiladas in the oven. Want to come over for a pool party? Our new pool is crying out for us to jump in,” Chelsea asked.
“I wish I could. Gram’s on her matchmaking kick again.”
Chelsea laughed. “Kyle, Gram has turned her sights on Callie,” she called to her husband of two months.
A click sounded in Callie’s ear as Kyle picked up the other phone. “Don’t knock it, Cal. Your grandma knows what she’s doing. Chelsea and I are living proof.”
Callie groaned. “Don’t you two start. I want to be left alone to live my life the way I want it. I don’t need Gram setting me up with some stranger. And this guy’s an architect.”
“You work with architects all the time,” Chelsea said. “What’s wrong with dating one?”
“He’ll be self-opinionated and want to talk about buildings and codes all through dinner. Pray for me—it’s going to be a long, boring evening.”
“Give him a chance,” Kyle urged. “Look what happened with us. You never know.”
“I know—believe me,” Callie said. “I know that no architect is ever going to appeal to me. Besides, there’s news you don’t know.”
“Oh?” Chelsea’s voice was breathless with anticipation.
“I’m thinking of moving to New York. I even found a building to put my business in.” The silence on the other end of the phone was heavy with disapproval. “It makes sense, Chelsea. The good fabrics and designers are out East. It’s just a matter of time. Besides, there’s nothing to hold me here.”
“Only because you won’t open yourself up to other people,” Chelsea said. “Someone’s going to knock down that wall you’ve erected in a big way. All men aren’t like Bart. You can’t live your life in fear that a man is only interested in your money.”
“Sure I can. It’s the truth. Look—just pray for me tonight. I don’t want Gram’s friend telling her I was unfriendly. I’ll get through it somehow.”
“We’ll pray, but promise me you’ll give him a chance,” Chelsea said.
“All right, but don’t hold your breath.” The doorbell rang, and her heart sped up. “He’s here. I gotta go. Don’t forget to pray for me.”
She hung up the phone and smoothed the silk over her thighs as she went to the door. When was the last time she’d gone out with anyone? Two years ago, she decided. That’s why she was so nervous.
It had been a fiasco too. Bart Wilson, a lawyer who specialized in accidents, had been just as smarmy as the TV ads she’d seen for personal injury suits. This guy was probably going to be worse. She sighed and opened the door.
Chapter 2
Nick drummed his fingers on the doorjamb. He sighed and turned his wrist over to look at his watch. “Come on—come on,” he muttered. He should have arrived fifteen minutes ago; but his younger sister, Erin, had called, and he’d talked longer than he realized.
The door opened, and he found himself staring into the eyes of the woman he’d helped in the parking lot. She looked good, he realized. The orangish-red pantsuit she wore made her look even taller and slimmer than she had in the suit she’d been wearing earlier. He didn’t normally go for tall women, but she literally glowed with color from the top of her auburn hair to the golden hue of her skin. Her hair was still up off her neck, but the severe style failed to hide the striking color. Its hue reminded him of autumn leaves, red and gold all mixed together. He pulled himself together and realized suspicion radiated from her dark eyes.
“Did you follow me home?” she demanded.
He lifted one eyebrow. “Why would I do that? Your grandmother gave me your address. You’re Callie, aren’t you? Callie Stevens?”
Callie groaned and slapped a hand to her forehead. “You must be Nick Darling. My date.” She said the last word as though it were an unpleasant mess left by the border collie he saw at her feet.
“That would be me,” he said. He leaned down and patted the dog. The animal practically smiled at the attention. “We should be going. I don’t want to keep my clients waiting.”
Callie sighed. “I’ll get my purse. “
She turned to grab her purse, and Nick glanced inside the house. A country French decor, it almost made him wish this was a real date and he’d get a chance to lounge on that comfy sofa while they ate popcorn and watched a movie. Almost.
Callie joined him on the front stoop. “Where are we going?”
“Pedro’s. It has the best Mexican food I’ve ever eaten. You like Mexican, I hope?” Somehow she looked more the type to enjoy French food with a maitre d’ hovering over her shoulder.
“I love it,” Callie said. “Pedro’s has the best chili relleno I’ve ever eaten.”
Okay, so he was wrong. He slid his palm under her elbow and escorted her to his vehicle, a Dodge Ram pickup 4 x 4. He opened the door, and she eyed the running board then clambered onto the seat. At least she didn’t complain like his sister.
He shut the door once she was seated then strode around to his own side and climbed in. When he started the truck and pulled into the street, he became conscious of her stare. “What?” he asked.
“You don’t look like an architect,” she said. A blush touched her cheeks, and she looked away.
“Well, you look every inch a designer, right down to the perfectly matched shoes and purse,” he said. “What’s an architect look like? I thought we were all different breeds.”
“For one thing, you’re too–too cowboy to be an architect,” she said.
The way she said it made Nick think of pickles, and he hid a grin. He liked a challenge, and this woman revved up his adrenaline like facing an opponent at the Cowboy Action Shoot. What would she think if he asked her to come along on the next shoot? He glanced at her from the corner of his eye.
“This is Arizona,” he reminded her. “It’s allowed out here. Besides, you have something against cowboys?”
“Of course not.” The starch crept back into her voice, and the color on her cheeks heightened. “I’m surprised you get much business if you go to meetings in that getup.”
“This getup, as you call it, is comfortable. I have all the business I can handle. People hire me for my expertise, not my attire.”
“I’m sure,” she said, but her tone dripped with irony.
Nick lost the battle to contain his amusement and let loose with a rumbling laugh. “Are you trying to make me mad so you don’t have to come?” He grinned at the pink in her cheeks. “Too late. You’re stuck with me just as I’m stuck with you. I’m not sure what your grandma was thinking to pair us up, but at least we won’t be bored.”
He didn’t give Callie a chance to answer but stomped his foot to the accelerator and gunned the truck down the street. She thought she was out with a cowboy, so he wouldn’t disappoint her. He reached over and punched the button on the stereo to turn on the CD player. Marty Robbins’s voice blared out, and Nick chimed in and sang “El Paso” along with the CD. The music reverberated through the truck cab.
He glanced over at Callie. Her color was high, and she was staring straight ahead. Then her lips twitched, and a dimple appeared in her cheek. He was sure it was against her will, but her left foot began to tap in time to the thump of the music.
She caught his gaze, and the wattage of her smile turned on full force. He nearly rocked back in the seat with the power of it. No wonder she was so successful in her business. All she had to do was smile and a man would do anything for her. Wonder why she wasn’t married? She was a real looker with that wonderful hair and contrasting eyes. The way she carried herself impressed him. Most tall women slouched, but Callie walked with her head held high as if daring life to try to keep her down.
“Now you’re staring,” she shouted over the sound of the music. “Hadn’t you better keep your eyes on the road?”
>
Nick came out of his trance to the blaring of a horn, and he jerked the wheel and guided the truck back into his own lane. “Sorry,” he yelled.
Callie reached over and turned the music down a notch. “You’ve successfully put me in my place, so let’s have a little peace.”
He grinned. “I don’t think I’ve met anyone like you, Callie Stevens. Maybe your grandma was right after all.”
Her dark eyes widened, and her jaw dropped. She recovered quickly and looked away. “Don’t get any ideas, Mr. Darling. Gram doesn’t know it, but I’m moving to New York. The last thing I’m looking for is a reason to stay here. For my business to grow, I need to be where the action is. And that’s New York.”
Nick was surprised at the disappointment that tightened his stomach. He inclined his head and kept his voice calm. “Well, we can at least be friends while you’re here. Call me Nick. If I ever hear the word darling out of you, I’d rather it be in another tone of voice.”
Callie surprised him with laughter. “Don’t hold your breath, Nick. But we can be friends, I guess. Only don’t expect anything more from me.”
The disappointment deepened, but Nick nodded. It was just as well. He was too busy to go chasing after a woman, even one as intriguing as Callie Stevens.
§
Cars and trucks filled Pedro’s parking lot. Callie pointed out a space, and Nick swung the big truck around and slipped it into the space with the practiced ease of a man who had driven a vehicle this size all his life. Callie couldn’t deny he was a very attractive man. The sheer presence of his size and masculinity nearly filled the truck cab, and she squeezed against her door to avoid contact with him. She wasn’t used to an overpowering attraction like this, and she wasn’t sure she liked it.
When she’d opened the door and found him standing there, her first instinct had been to slam it shut. Her heart still burned with humiliation when she thought about his escorting her around the parking lot to find her car. But she’d learned to carry herself with dignity in the face of embarrassment and had met his gaze squarely. She’d seen the startled look on his face, though. He was probably regretting he’d ever asked Gram to find him a date.
She prided herself on her ability to think with her head and not her heart, but Nick sorely tried that ability. The less time spent in his company the better, although she couldn’t help but wonder if he had been serious about wanting to be friends. She couldn’t imagine ever being friends with him. Her attraction to him made her too uncomfortable.
What’s more, she didn’t understand it. That cowboy persona didn’t normally appeal to her. She was more used to men who had an edge of sophistication about them. Maybe she was tired. The trip to New York had taken a lot out of her.
Lord, help me fight this. Her life had been fine up till now, and she didn’t want some unreturned infatuation to derail her plans. She took a couple of deep, calming breaths and felt better. She was just hungry. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and the flutters in her stomach were likely due to that. Once she ate a few tortilla chips with salsa, she’d be her old self.
She pushed her troubled thoughts away as Nick came around to open the door for her. She grabbed her purse and took his hand. A tingle shot up her arm, and she felt breathless. She pulled away from him as soon as her feet were on the pavement. Trotting a step ahead of him, she hurried toward the safety of the restaurant. She wanted to be with other people and get her emotional feet back on the bedrock of her common sense.
“Whoa, what’s the hurry?” Nick demanded.
The click of his boots as he rushed to catch her added to Callie’s haste. The sooner she escaped from this evening, the happier she would be. She forced herself to slow down.
“Sorry,” she said. “I wanted to get out of this heat.”
“Yeah, it’s hot. But you’re a born and bred Arizonian. It shouldn’t bother you. You feeling okay? You look a little flushed,” he said.
“I’m fine,” she said curtly.
“Oh, there they are,” he said, his attention snagged by a couple at a table in the corner. He threaded his way through the tables and people.
Pasting a smile on her face, Callie followed him.
Nick held out her chair, and she slid into it. He dropped into the seat beside her. “Sorry we’re a bit late,” he said. “I’d like you to meet Callie Stevens. Callie, this is Warren Miller and his wife, Barbara.”
Callie shook hands with them across the table. “Have you been in the Valley of the Sun long?”
“Two months,” Barbara said. “Is it always this hot?” She was in her fifties, and her ample figure strained the buttons of the plum suit she wore. She looked out of place among the rest of the restaurant’s patrons who were dressed casually.
Her husband was equally overdressed in a severe black suit and tie. His florid face glistened with perspiration, and his balding head sported a vicious sunburn.
“If you think this is hot, wait until July,” Nick said. “It’s actually pretty pleasant in April. Today it was only ninety-seven.”
“Ninety-seven!” Barbara shook her head. “I’m beginning to think Warren made a mistake accepting this job.” Her voice was timid.
“You’ll acclimate,” Callie said reassuringly. “By this time next year you’ll be wearing a winter coat in fifty-degree temperatures and complaining.”
“I hope so.” Barbara picked up the menu as the men launched into a conversation of their own. “Everything is so new and different here. Even the food. We usually eat at the Brazilian restaurant when we go out. We’re overdressed, I see.” She sounded near tears.
Callie leaned over and squeezed her hand. “You look lovely. I’ve been looking for a suit that color.”
Barbara looked down with a woebegone expression. “I’ve gained weight since I bought it,” she said. “I feel so out of place and friendless here.”
Pity stirred in Callie’s heart. She knew what it was like to feel like an outsider. She’d felt that way herself all through high school. She’d been taller than all the boys in her class until she was a sophomore, and she’d never managed to fit in with the girls. They were more interested in dating, and she had wanted to study.
“Would you like to come to church with me on Sunday? Have you found a place to worship?” she asked.
Barbara brightened. “We used to attend a prominent church in New York. All the best people went there. Maybe that would be a good way to meet others in our social standing.”
Callie stared. This woman had no clue as to what church was all about. She’d been asking the Lord to send some people her way that she could witness to. Maybe this was His answer. She felt a sense of shame that she hadn’t been looking for someone to help, and instead God had had to force her into a situation where she saw the need.
“Our church isn’t huge or prominent, but we love the Lord,” she said gently as the men’s conversation hit a lull. “I’d love for you to come.”
“I attend there as well,” Nick added.
“Oh, is that how you met? You make such a darling couple,” Barbara said. She giggled. “A Darling couple, get it?”
“I get it,” Nick said. His tone was resigned, and Callie figured he’d heard that line before.
“We’d love to attend,” Warren said.
“Worship is at ten-thirty,” Nick said. “Want me to pick you up?”
“No, no, that’s fine. We’ll meet you there.” Warren took out a pen, and Nick wrote down the directions for him.
Over dinner Callie found herself watching Nick from the corner of her eye. His cowboy hat stayed squarely on his head, and she wondered what he looked like without it. Maybe he was balding early, and that’s why he wore it. But she discarded the notion when he pushed it to the back of his head, and she spied thick, black curls under it.
It was silly to speculate about him. She would keep her distance, here and at church, and go on with her life. This was one night, nothing more.
Callie listened as Barb
ara told her all about the Warren children, their yacht and mountain home in Colorado, and all other manner of minutiae. Barbara had yet to ask one question about Callie. It was no wonder Barbara hadn’t made any friends yet.
“I need an interior designer,” Barbara announced over coffee.
“Callie is an interior designer,” Nick said. “She’s one of the best in the country. Her houses have been written up in every magazine in the industry.”
Barbara’s blue eyes widened. “I thought your name sounded familiar! Now I remember—you were the one who was interviewed in Designer’s Showcase. I saved the article and told Warren I wished I could hire you,” she said. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? You would be perfect! When can you start?”
“Hold on. Your house is still in the planning stages,” Nick said. “This is a little premature. And I’m sure Callie has a full slate already.”
“Actually I like to get in on this stage,” Callie said. “I can suggest architectural elements that add more impact to my design for the interior.”
He frowned. “I don’t think so,” Nick said. “I like to get input from the clients alone when I’m designing a house. You get too many ideas floating around, and you get no clear, cohesive plan.”
“Oh, but I think it’s a wonderful idea!” Barbara cried. “Do you have time to take us on?” she asked eagerly.
Though she was aware of Nick’s glower, Callie nodded. She wasn’t about to turn down a chance to do a house of this magnitude. It would add more kudos to her career and help her get established in New York. If she did a good job, the Millers would recommend her to their friends back East.
Excitement tingled along her stomach like a row of ants heading for the sugar bowl. “I’d love to decorate your home,” she said. “I’ll need to sit down with you and get an idea of what you’d like, what style you’re comfortable with.”
A Match Made in Heaven Page 2
