LOST AND FOUND HUSBAND

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  “Do you think Eric is a dog person or a cat person?” Candy asked.

  “Hmm. Good question. I’d venture to guess cats.” He had a catlike quality about him, warm but still somehow aloof. “You should see him. Tall and dark and chiseled. He’s half Cherokee.”

  “How do you know what his heritage is?”

  “He wore a Native Pride T-shirt once, and I asked him about it.”

  “So that’s one more thing you know about him.”

  Dana nodded. “It isn’t much, is it? For a whole year? But I haven’t told him everything about myself, either. Mostly I just refill his water more than I should as an excuse to keep returning to his table.”

  “I’ll bet he appreciates you doting on him.”

  “He certainly watches me a lot. I can always feel those dark eyes roving over me whenever I walk away.”

  “Sounds like a mutual crush.”

  “You have no idea how many times I’ve fantasized about him while I was in bed, moaning like a tart.” For the sake of drama, she pulled a vintage Meg Ryan and demonstrated the noises she made.

  Candy laughed. “Are you going to tell him that?”

  She laughed, too. “Sure? Why not? I’ve been known to say what’s on my mind.” And these days Eric took up a lot of room in her mind. “I’m going to go dig through my closet now.” She wanted to choose an ensemble that would please him. Maybe even something that showed off a bawdy bit of cleavage.

  ’Cause life was too important to waste.

  * * *

  Eric couldn’t do it. He couldn’t date someone as young as Dana. Hell, he couldn’t date anyone at all. He wasn’t ready, not even for something casual. Keeping to himself was easier.

  He picked up his cell phone, intending to call Dana and decline her offer, but he dialed his daughter, Kaley, instead, needing to hear her voice.

  She’d chosen to live in a dorm, even though her campus was fairly close to home. Eric supported her decision. He wanted his daughter to spread her wings, to find her independence, to enjoy her youth. But damn, he missed seeing her every day. Of course, she still came by on weekends sometimes. But between her studies and her social life, those weekend visits were becoming less frequent.

  “Hi, Dad,” she said, by way of a phone greeting.

  “Hey, what are you doing?”

  “Getting ready to go out. I’m going to a Valentine-themed party with my girlfriends. There’s another one tomorrow night, too. Both of them are for singles only. How great is that?”

  Valentine’s Day was on Monday. It was a holiday he no longer celebrated, but apparently Kaley and her crowd were intent on enjoying it. He feigned an upbeat tone. “Sounds fun.” It also sounded as if she wasn’t going to be home any time this weekend.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  He almost said, “Nothing,” but he didn’t want her to feel bad for him, so he replied, “I was invited to a gallery opening tomorrow.”

  “Really? Are you going to go?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t decided.” That was better than admitting the truth.

  Kaley didn’t ask who invited him. She probably thought it was one of his old artist friends. He wouldn’t have told her who it was, anyway, so he was glad that she hadn’t asked.

  “You should see me, Dad. I’m wearing this cheesy pink gown.” She laughed. “And a tiara. The party tonight is dress-up.”

  He smiled. She used to love wearing princess getups when she was a kid. “Take a picture and send it.”

  “I will, as soon as I get my lipstick on.”

  “Pink, I presume.”

  “What else?” She made a silly kissing sound. “I love you, Daddy. Have fun at the gallery opening tomorrow.”

  “I didn’t say I was going.”

  “Well, you should. It’s just your sort of thing.”

  He sidestepped her encouragement. “I love you, too, kissy Kaley. Be good.”

  “Okay. Talk to you later.”

  They said goodbye and as he ended the call, a big jolt of emptiness consumed his heart. But that didn’t stop him from dialing Dana to decline her offer.

  “Hello?” She answered in an eager tone. Hoping, perhaps, that it was him on the other end?

  “Hi. It’s Eric.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad you called, especially now. I’ve been trying on clothes for our date, just in case you say yes. I want to look amazing and blow you away.”

  Eric winced. She was too young and sweet for the likes of him. “I just talked to my daughter. She said that she was wearing a pink gown and a tiara to a Valentine-themed party. She’s supposed to send me a picture.”

  “How fun. I’ll bet she’s going to have a great time. The gallery opening is Valentine art.”

  “I’m not going to go, Dana.”

  “Come on. Don’t bail on me. Please. I really want to have a nice evening with you.”

  “I’m just not up for it.”

  A smile sounded in her voice. “How about if I send you a picture of what I’m going to wear?”

  In spite of himself, he laughed. “I’d rather be surprised.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to go?”

  Did it? He glanced at the photos on the fireplace mantel, particularly the one from his wedding. Corrine had been an incredibly beautiful bride with her traditional white dress and misty veil. They’d gotten married at the beach. She’d always loved the sand and the surf. He did, too.

  “You’re confusing me,” he said.

  “Confusing you into having some fun?”

  Just confusing him in general. “What gallery is it?”

  “It’s a new one near the beach.”

  He glanced at the portrait again. “Which beach?”

  “Santa Monica.”

  Eric’s stomach clenched. The same one where he’d said his vows. Was this a cosmic joke? “Dana—”

  “Please.” She persisted again. “Just give me a chance. One date. One kiss afterward.”

  A kiss? Now that was all he was going to be thinking about. He’d already been thinking about it at the diner, too. Could she tell? Did she know? Had he been that obvious? “You don’t play fair.”

  “A little romance never hurt anyone.”

  Romance had hurt him plenty. In the picture, he was standing barefoot on the shore in his tux, with his pant legs rolled up past his ankles, holding his new bride in his arms. He remembered scooping her up and making her squeal.

  Dana said, “I really want to kiss you.”

  He wanted to kiss her, too. He wanted to put his mouth against hers and forget how lonely he was. “This is dangerous.”

  “It’s a date, Eric.”

  “And a kiss,” he reminded her.

  “Just one at the door,” she reminded him. She wasn’t offering a night of unbridled passion.

  Nor was he expecting anything like that. But maybe it was time for him to get back into the casual dating pool. Besides, Dana was about as sweet as they came. He couldn’t ask for a nicer person to spend a few hours with. “Okay.” He held his breath. One date. One good-night kiss. Plus Valentine art in Santa Monica. He prayed he could handle it. “I’ll go out with you.”

  Her voice beamed. “You won’t regret it. We’re going to have a wonderful time. I’m so excited. Here, let me give you my address.”

  “I have to get a pen and paper.” He went into the kitchen, away from the photo.

  “Ready?”

  “Sure. Go ahead.” She rattled off her address and he wrote it down.

  “It’s the house in the back,” she said. “You have to go through a side gate to get to it. But you’ll see it when you get there.”

  “What time should I pick you up?”

  “H
ow about seven-thirty? The reception is from eight to ten.”

  “Okay.” He was already nervous.

  “My landlord will probably peer out her window to get a look at you.”

  “Is she a nosy old lady?”

  “No.” Dana laughed her lilting laugh. “She’s young and beautiful, and I told her all about how yummy you are.”

  “Gee, thanks.” More nerves. More of everything. “Nothing like putting a guy on the spot.”

  “You’ll do fine. By the way, did you mention me to your daughter when you spoke to her earlier?”

  “I told her that someone invited me to a gallery opening, but I didn’t let on that it was a woman.”

  “Much less a twenty-six-year-old? Would you have told her about me if I was your age?”

  “Probably not. I’m not comfortable talking about my personal life to my child, even if she sometimes pesters me about it.”

  “Pesters you how?”

  “She wants me to start dating.”

  “What a bright kid. What’s her name?”

  “Kaley.”

  “Really? Did you know that Kaley means ‘party animal’ in the Urban Dictionary? Kaley is the name to have these days. It depicts the coolest girl ever.”

  “Then I guess we did her proud. Because she is the coolest girl ever.”

  “You’re cool, too.”

  He shook his head. “Are you kidding? I feel like I’m in high school all over again.”

  “Because of me?”

  “Yes. Because of you.”

  “So I make you feel young? That’s good, isn’t it?”

  “I was a dork in high school.”

  She laughed. “Somehow I don’t see you as ever being a dork.”

  “Believe me, I was.”

  “I’m surprised you can remember back that far.”

  He cracked a smile. “Smarty.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, you, too.”

  “I’m going to wow you with my outfit.”

  He would probably be predictable, in jeans and a sports coat. “Bye, Dana.”

  “Bye, handsome.”

  They hung up, and he marveled at how easily she flirted. He’d never met anyone like her.

  He checked his emails on his phone to see if his cool kid had sent the picture. She had, and the image was funny and cute, with his daughter making a duck face. Her sparkly pink gown was atrocious. The tiara was tacky, too. But that was the point, he supposed.

  He thought about Dana, wondering just how she planned to wow him. Tomorrow night was going to be a long wait.

  Especially with that kiss looming in his mind.

  Chapter Two

  Eric drove to Dana’s place and parked at the curb. She lived in a cozy, tree-lined neighborhood. The bungalow house in front boasted 1930s appeal with a sloping roof, a stucco exterior and a stone walkway. He assumed that was where her landlord lived. He didn’t see anyone peering out from behind the lacy curtains, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t being watched.

  He picked up her gift from the passenger’s seat and got out of the car. He’d stopped by the florist and gotten Dana an orchid because of her obvious love of flowers. But suddenly he’d realized he’d made a mistake. Not necessarily for Dana, but for himself. Corrine’s wedding bouquet had been made up of the same type of orchids.

  How could he have overlooked that? Eric scowled. Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe it was deliberate. As to why, he couldn’t be sure. But it didn’t sit well with him.

  He headed for the side gate Dana had mentioned and opened the latch. Her yard was an explosion of greenery and festive blooms. Her tiny house sat amid the garden, which also contained a three-tiered fountain.

  He knocked on her door. She answered and sent his libido into a tailspin.

  She had the wow factor.

  She’d donned a white dress with a bold red print. The slim-fitting garment hugged her in all the right places and was just low enough in front for him to see how bountiful her breasts were. Her shoes, a pair of flesh-colored heels, added about three inches to her height, elongating her already shapely legs. But what really enticed him was her hair. He’d never seen it loose, and tonight it tumbled around her shoulders in a mass of golden waves, making him itch to touch it.

  Her makeup was stunning, as well, her eyes lined in a manner that reminded of him of an old-time movie star. Her lips were painted the same shade as the print on the dress, which he now realized were red dahlias. Instead of wearing a flower in her hair, she was wearing them on her dress.

  “You look incredible,” he said.

  “Thank you.” She spun around and showed him every curve. “I primped for hours.”

  “It paid off.”

  “Is that for me?” she asked.

  The accidental orchid. “Yes.” He handed it to her.

  “Thank you. It’s beautiful.” She hugged it to her chest, much too close to her heart. “Come in, Eric.”

  As he entered her home, she put the potted plant on the windowsill, where a host of herbs created a fragrant mixture. Everything in her young vibrant world was tuned to the senses. A mosaic-topped café dining table was paired with mismatched chairs, and a mint-green loveseat that served as her sofa was bursting with tassel-trimmed pillows. A wooden coat rack held a collection of fringed shawls, and glass lamps were draped with feminine scarves.

  “You have flair,” he said. “This is like an antique gypsy cart.” Gypsy included, he thought.

  “Oh, thank you. I always thought it would be exciting to be an artist, but I don’t have any talent in that regard. So I try to make up for it by keeping artistic things around me.”

  Did she keep artistic men around her, too? Was that part of her attraction to him? By most creative standards, Eric was on the conservative side. But he still fit the bill, he supposed, with his art-teacher vibe.

  “You could be an interior designer,” he told her.

  “Really? Do you think so? That’s something to consider. I’m torn about what to be when I grow up.” She flashed her twentysomething smile. “If I ever do grow up.”

  “Being grown-up is overrated.” Nonetheless, he was as grownup as it got. “Are you ready to head out?”

  “Sure. Just let me get my wrap.” She removed one of the shawls from the coat rack. They weren’t just for show.

  Before they exited her yard, she led him to the fountain. “Isn’t he adorable? He’s one of the reasons I want to see the Valentine art show. I love angels, and cherubs are my favorite.”

  He studied the statue in question. “People often mix cherubs up with putti. Unless you know the origins of the art, sometimes it can be difficult to tell.”

  She made a face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Putti is plural for putto. They’re childlike male figures, predominantly nude, and sometimes with wings.”

  “So what’s the difference?”

  “Cherubs appear in a religious context and are angels, whereas the genesis of putti is mythical or secular, like Cupid.”

  “So what is Tinkle?”

  “Tinkle?”

  She gestured to the fountain, and he smiled. She’d named the little guy after his antics. “I’d say he’s a putto. They’re prone to naughty deeds.”

  Dana laughed. “And here all this time I thought he was a misbehaving angel.”

  Eric laughed, too. “I’m sure we’ll see plenty of cherubs at the gallery. And putti, too.”

  “It will be fun trying to tell the difference. We can make a guessing game out of it.”

  They walked to his car, and he opened the passenger side and watched her slide onto the seat. She was fluid and graceful, and he was still hoping that he could handle
their date.

  He got behind the wheel, and she gave him the address of the gallery. He typed it into the navigation system and drove into the night.

  They barely spoke on the way. Mostly they listened to the female computer voice giving directions.

  Finally Dana said, “I don’t have one of those. I just take the chance of getting lost. Besides, sometimes you end up in interesting places when you go the wrong way.”

  “Do you have a bad sense of direction?”

  “The worst.” She grinned like an imp. “That part of my brain never developed, I guess. But we all have something not quite right about us.”

  His “not quite right” was his attraction to her. She didn’t make sense in his organized world. She was too young, too free, too far from his norm.

  They arrived at their destination, and he drove around to find a parking space.

  “I love this area,” Dana said.

  Eric kept quiet. He used to love it, too. The oceanfront hotel that hosted his wedding was nearby.

  He nabbed a parking spot, and they walked a block or so to the gallery.

  They entered the reception area, where food and drink were being served. But they didn’t make a beeline for the buffet. To do so would have been tacky and insulting to the artist, or, in this case, the group of artists being showcased. Eric did opt for the bar, though. He needed a drink. Dana accepted a glass of wine, as well.

  Together, they wandered around. The Valentine theme played out in different ways. Some pieces were warm and whimsical, others deep and epic. One spicy collection presented a sensual tone, whereas another was tragic.

  The tragic art impacted Eric the most. Love found, love lost. He was morosely drawn to it.

  Dana stood beside him as they gazed at a painting of a man reaching toward the sky, where a woman was fading away from him. The emotion it evoked hit him square in the gut.

  “Have you ever been in love?” he asked her.

  “No, but I hope to fall madly in love someday. It must be an incredible feeling.”

  “It is.”

  As he continued to study the piece, she studied him. He could feel her blue eyes burning into his soul.

  “I’m sorry if this is difficult for you,” she said softly.