Blind Date

by Cheryl Anne Porter

  A cell phone rang stridently.

  Meg jumped back, and so did Joe. The sexy-as-hell man slumped back against the seat and muttered a soft “Damn.”

  Chagrined, Meg plucked her purse off the floor and unzipped it. “I cannot believe this. Is it mine or yours?”

  Joe stretched up off the seat and pulled his phone off the clip attached to his belt. He stared at it. “It’s not mine.”

  “I am so sorry.” Sure enough, she pulled a ringing phone out of her purse. “I have no idea who this can be. I should have turned the stupid thing off. In fact, why don’t I just do that now?”

  Joe held up a hand to stop her. “No. Take the call. It’s probably a good thing someone called, considering where we were headed just now.”

  Meg stared at him.

  So he was already having second thoughts about that kiss. Disappointed, she hit the answer button and put the obtrusive little instrument to her ear. “Hello.”

  The answering voice put her right over the edge. She looked over at Joe and mouthed It’s Carl. He nodded and watched her. Not breaking eye contact with the delicious man sitting next to her in the car, Meg dealt with her caller. “This isn’t a good time, Carl. Yes, I know I’m not home. I told you I was going out—Wait a minute. Are you there at my place right now?”

  Next to her, Joe sat up tensely. He looked ready to start the car, drive back to the apartment complex and beat the hell out of Carl. Meg figured she’d better hurry her cheating ex-boyfriend off the phone. Much as she’d like to see him pounded to a pulp, she didn’t want Joe charged with assault. “Well, you better not be there. Anyway, we don’t really have anything to say to each other. What? It’s none of your business who I’m with, or if I’m even with anyone.”

  What Carl next said into her ear stopped Meg for a good two to three seconds and had her pulse tripping. “What? No, you can’t say that now. It’s too late to tell me you love me. Just forget—Marry you? You want me to marry you?”

  Joe abruptly turned away from her and stared out the window to his left. Her mind reeling, Meg didn’t know what to do, what to say. Joe—perhaps thinking she wanted privacy for this conversation—opened the car door and got out, closing it behind him.

  Meg had reached out to stop him, but he’d had his back to her. By the time he’d walked around the back of the car and stepped over to the concrete seawall, Meg could only stare after him. Darn it, she wanted him back here, next to her…kissing her.

  Stupid Carl. Suddenly, she remembered that he was still on the line. “Yes, I’m still here, Carl. But there’s nothing to discuss. I can’t forgive you. And no, I won’t be home early.” At least, she hoped she wouldn’t be. Still keeping Joe in sight, she told Carl, “I have to go. Oh, all right, fine, I’ll at least think about it. Yes, I know you aren’t taking this lightly. Okay, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Meg jabbed the end button, turned the phone off and stuffed it back into her purse. She had no intention of calling Carl tomorrow. But she’d said she would, hoping he’d be satisfied and wouldn’t leave a hundred messages on her machine. She sighed, as she studied her not-a-date’s wide shoulders, broad back, slim hips. He was put together so fine. Smitten with his aura of masculine strength and power, she crossed her arms on the lowered window’s sill, rested her chin on her arms and drank in her fill of him.

  Thoroughly immersed in the sight he made spotlighted by a street lamp, Meg realized something. She’d been fooling herself a moment ago when she’d thought Joe Rossi could be her fling. This man was not fling material. She’d already seen enough of him—well, surmised enough about him, at any rate—to know he was a man of depth, someone who could quickly come to matter.

  Damn it. Shaking off her sensual lethargy, Meg followed Joe’s gaze out across the water. Directly across from him sat upscale Harbour Island with its stylish restaurants and yachts and hotel. The lights twinkled, music danced over the water and the southern night was soft. Meg wondered what Joe thought of her city. Maybe she should ask him. That would be a good start.

  But first, she found her purse, located the tiny tin of mints and popped one in her mouth. She shouldn’t be hoping for that kiss, but a girl never knew. With that, she got out of the car to join him, knowing he would hear the sounds the door made as she opened and closed it. Meg crossed the small, bricked parking lot and stood next to Joe, who glanced down at her and smiled, as he might if a stranger had joined him.

  “So,” she said with intentionally ironic cheeriness, “Carl’s a jerk.”

  Nodding, Joe looked out over the night-blackened water. “I’m beginning to agree with you.”

  “He, uh, wants to get back together.”

  “Sounded to me like he wants to do more than that.” Looking off to his left, Joe put his hands on his hips. “It’s beautiful right here.”

  “Yes, it is. This is one of the prettiest vantage points for seeing the bay.” Oh, the man had cooled considerably toward her. With her next breath, she said, “It’s not gonna happen, Joe. With Carl, I mean.”

  Joe turned to look at her. “It’s not my business, Meg. You don’t owe me any explanations.”

  “I know I don’t. And I know I keep saying this isn’t a date, but it was starting to feel like one back there in the car, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah. But he asked you to marry him. A man doesn’t do that lightly.”

  Joe’s vaguely accusatory tone, so close on the heels of Carl’s aggravating, mood-shattering phone call, had Meg crunching her breath mint and saying what she thought. “So, I should call him back and say yes, just because he asked? I don’t think so. I broke up with him. He only asked because he doesn’t like to lose. That’s all. Trust me, if I’d said yes, he’d already be running for the next plane to…Bora Bora.”

  Joe inclined his head quizzically. “Bora Bora?”

  Meg shrugged. “It’s the first remote-sounding place that came to mind.”

  He nodded, a crooked grin breaking through briefly. “I’m sorry I said what I did just now. The truth is, I don’t get an opinion, but the whole thing still…hit me wrong.”

  He looked so sorry—and uncomfortable. Meg relented, going with humor to smooth things over. “Well, I can’t imagine why. The woman you were about to kiss gets a phone call from another man who asks her to marry him? Gosh, I just don’t see how that could be awkward for you, Joe.”

  He chuckled. “Go figure. But that’s why I got out of the car. It sounded to me like you two still had a lot to talk about. I didn’t want to get in the way.”

  She waved that away. “You are so not in the way. You couldn’t be less in the way even if you were in—”

  “Bora Bora?”

  She nodded. “Exactly.”

  “Well…good.” Joe turned to look out over the water again.

  Meg stood silently at his side, so close she could feel his body’s warmth, yet miles away. Why couldn’t they get back to the part where they’d been about to kiss?

  “So, what did Carl do?” Joe’s question broke the silence. “Why’d you break up with him, I mean?”

  Meg took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “He cheated on me. We’d been together for about a year. But last week I caught the rat out on a date. A date! Worse, the woman he was with didn’t even know I existed. She thought he was cheating on her with me! Can you believe it? Obviously, neither one of us was very important to him.”

  “How about you?” Joe turned his head and looked at her. “I mean, how much did you care for him before he, uh, started dating?”

  His question took Meg by surprise. “How much did I care? I don’t know. I guess…some. I cared enough to stay with him for a year. Is that an answer?”

  “Yeah. A year is a long time. So, what if he hadn’t cheated on you and had asked you to marry him tonight? Would you have said yes?”

  The man could come up with some probing questions. “Again, I don’t know. I guess I’d have told him I needed to think about it.”

  Joe nodded. �
��You’d have to think about it—after a year of being exclusive?”

  Meg was about to say yes, but her next thought caught her up short. “Oh my God, I see what you’re getting at. If I had to think about my answer, then it was probably always no, right?”

  “Most likely.”

  “Well, what do you know—I didn’t love him and was wasting my time. Joe, I owe you a big, fat thank-you for that insight.”

  “No big deal. I’ll send you my bill. Still, Carl’s a fool for cheating on you.”

  “You’re sweet to say so. Besides, it was all so unnecessary. All he had to do was tell me he didn’t want me around. How hard is that?”

  Joe looked suddenly uncomfortable. “Sometimes it can be really hard, if you have any kind of a conscience, and if you suspect the other person cares for you a lot more than you do for her.”

  Her? He was no longer talking about her and Carl, Meg realized. “So, Joe. You sound like you know how that feels.”

  He exhaled roughly. “I do. Meg, I think I should tell you something. There’s…Well, I have a…Okay, her name’s Linda.”

  3

  “OH.” JOE’S WORDS hit Meg like a slap to the face. “I see. You have a Linda. How nice. Is she your—” Meg winced “—wife?”

  “Oh, hell no, nothing like that. We’ve been together now for about six months…and she wants the relationship to be more.”

  “I see. Well.” A sudden sense of loss made Meg want to sit down in a big, dejected heap and cry. “Maybe we should introduce Linda and Carl, since they both seem to have a case of the commitment bug. That is, unless you’ve caught it, too.” She looked over at him.

  When he didn’t reply right away, Meg surreptitiously crossed her fingers against his answer—and held her breath.

  Joe rubbed a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. That’s why I came to Tampa. Time away to think.”

  There was hope. Her mood suddenly lighter, Meg pointed at him. “So, that’s why you were asking me all those questions a minute ago. You’re looking for some insight yourself.”

  Joe had the grace to nod and look sheepish. “I am, yeah. But my situation is different.”

  “Is it? How so?”

  “Well, no one’s been cheating.”

  “Really?” Meg crossed her arms and shrugged. “Don’t give up so easily, cowboy. The night’s still young.”

  Joe laughed. “I like a woman who knows what she wants.”

  “Good.” Though she now adopted an air of sophisticated confidence, inside Meg was quaking with the audacity of what she’d just said…and implied.

  Joe’s eyes twinkled. “You’ve certainly given me a lot to think about in the few short hours I’ve known you, Meg Kendall.”

  “Yeah? Thinking of doing something stupid, are you, Joe?”

  “You mean like this?” He grabbed her by her arms and pulled her tight against him. Before she could react, he’d lowered his head and crushed his mouth against hers in a bruising, passionate kiss that curled Meg’s toes and scattered her senses. His tongue explored her mouth…probing…pushing in and out…mimicking perfectly the thrusting act of sex.

  People driving past wa-hoo-ed out their car windows or honked their horns.

  Meg wouldn’t have cared if an actual cheering crowd, complete with marching band, had gathered behind them. Her heart was beating triple time and her knees had become weak with desire. She was helpless, unable to resist.

  When Joe broke the kiss and pulled back, Meg stared deep into his magnificent eyes. “Yeah. Like that. We shouldn’t do that…again…Joe.”

  That quirky little Elvis grin of his appeared on his lips—lips Meg now knew intimately.

  “No. We shouldn’t.” Joe lowered his head, and Meg raised her mouth to meet his again. But he pulled back at the last second, teasing, staring intently into her eyes.

  Meg’s blood heated. “Damn you, Joe Rossi.”

  She reached up, gripped him around the muscular column of his neck and pulled him firmly down to her. This time, she took the lead, allowing only the tip of her tongue to dart in and out as she tasted the sensual fullness of his lips. With an evilly sexy chuckle, Joe finally captured her mouth and again plundered its willing depth as he put his arms around her and held her to him, her breasts hard against his chest, her hips hard against his thighs.

  And then, unbelievably, a cell phone rang.

  “AW, SON OF A BITCH!” Joe could not believe they’d been interrupted—again—by a damn cell phone.

  Meg pulled back, gasping. “Is that your pants ringing—or my ears?”

  “My pants. In more ways than one.” He gently released her and reached for the phone at his belt, tugging it off its clip. “I ought to throw the damn thing in the water.”

  Meg stepped away from him and hugged herself as if she were cold. “I hope Linda can swim.”

  Poised to push the talk button, Joe held off and looked into Meg’s smoldering bedroom eyes. He was hungry to kiss her again…and not stop there. “It doesn’t have to be…Linda.”

  He hated that he’d hesitated over her name. But right now, with Meg standing less than a foot from him, the last thing Joe was thinking about was his girlfriend. Hell, he was no better than Carl, was he?

  The cell phone continued to ring.

  Meg’s gaze locked with his. “You might as well answer it, cowboy,” she said, sounding practical. And angry.

  “You’re right,” Joe said, resigned. He pushed the button and put the phone to his ear. “Hello.” To his infinite relief it wasn’t Linda. It was… “Uncle Maury!”

  Meg looked at him questioningly. Joe shrugged. He had no idea why his great-uncle would be calling him. Then, when he heard the tone of Maury’s voice, he tensed. “Wait. Slow down. What are you saying? What mob?”

  “A mob?” Meg said. “At the complex? Does he mean a party at the pool?”

  Joe shook his head and held up a hand to Meg. “Oh, I get it. Not a mob, but the mob?” His tensed muscles relaxed. “No, Uncle Maury, we’re not doing this. You know there’s no mob at the door.”

  Meg clutched Joe’s shirtsleeve. “Is he okay?”

  Joe covered her grasping hand with his free one and nodded, mouthing I think so. He turned his attention back to his great-uncle. “Well, just don’t answer it,” he told Maury. “What do you mean we can’t come home? We weren’t on our way home…. Not ever? Uncle Maury, have you been drinking?”

  “What’s going on?” Meg hissed.

  “Hold on, Uncle Maury. Let me talk to Meg. Don’t hang up.” Joe released Meg’s fingers and held his hand over the phone’s mouthpiece. “Uncle Maury says we can’t ever come home because the mob is after him—and now they’re after us because we’re in The Stogie,” he said matter-of-factly. “He means the car,” he added.

  Meg shook her head, looking confused. “But Maury’s called The Stogie, not the car.”

  “They both are. I think Uncle Maury’s letting his imagination get the best of him.”

  Meg pulled back. “But he always talks about the mob.”

  “Yeah, but this is going a bit too far.” Aware of his elderly uncle hanging on the line, Joe spoke quickly to Meg. “You see, there’s a legend in our family that someone, at some time in the past, was in the Mafia. Uncle Maury decided he was that person and we’ve always gone along with it. It gave him stature. But he’s never made phone calls like this saying the mob is after him or anyone else. This is new.”

  Concern shadowed her expression. “Maybe he didn’t take his medicines. Or maybe he took too many. I knew we shouldn’t have left him alone. Joe, tell him not to do anything. That we’re on our way home right now.”

  Joe nodded and put the phone to his ear. “Uncle Maury? Meg says just sit tight, okay? We’re on our way home.”

  Blinking, Joe jerked the phone away from his ear and said to Meg, “Whoa. He’s cussing like crazy. Listen.” He put the phone to her ear, saw her eyes widen, then pulled it away.

  “Tell him we won’t
come home, if that’s what he wants.”

  “Sure, why not. Let’s go back to the car.” He grasped Meg’s arm to guide her and again spoke to his uncle. “Uncle Maury, listen to me—No, we’re not coming home…. Yes, calm down. It’s okay. No, I’m not lying. What? Shoot at us?” Joe’s knees locked, stopping him and Meg in their tracks, and he shook his head in disbelief.

  “Shoot at us?” Meg parroted. “Who’s going to shoot at us?”

  Joe held Meg’s fear-widened gaze as he talked. “Now, Uncle Maury, why would anyone be shooting at us?” He paused. “They want the keys? To what, the car? Uncle Maury, if anyone wants the keys to this car, trust me, I’ll hand them over long before they have to start shooting. Not the car keys? But don’t give them up, either? Well, what else would I have keys to, that some—How much money?”

  Joe covered the phone and whispered to Meg. “He says the keys are worth a fortune.”

  “Forget that. I want to know who’s going to shoot at us.”

  “Apparently the mob.”

  “Okay, Joe, this is beyond bizarre. And a little scary, I have to say.”

  “Tell me about it. But such is life with Maury Seeger.”

  “Well, what do we do? Do we believe him or not?”

  “I don’t know. Something’s wrong, I’ll give him that much. Something definitely set him off.”

  “Yeah, and it could be nothing more than some poor pizza delivery guy at his door.”

  “True. And Maury could shoot him.”

  Meg’s eyebrows rose. “Maury has a gun?”

  “Yes.”

  “Dear God.”

  “Amen.”

  “Joe?”

  “What?”

  She pointed to the phone in his hand. “Talk to Maury.”

  “Oh, hell.” He put the phone to his ear. “Hey, Uncle—What?” He listened another moment and then pulled the phone away from his ear and hit the end button. “He said he thinks they’re trying to get inside and he has to go. Then the line went dead.”

  “Ohmigod,” she breathed. “Joe, could it really be the Mafia?”