Blind Date

by Cheryl Anne Porter

  “Oh, I remember. And now you can see why. He’s a big, fat cheater. And did you see that woman? Some blonde with big hair and a big chest. It’s not Linda, is it? Wouldn’t that be the perfect irony?”

  “Irony wouldn’t even begin to cover it. But I’m pretty sure it’s not Linda,” he said, his voice conciliatory. “Maybe that woman’s not his date. Maybe she’s his sister.”

  That helpful little comment earned him a scathing look. “He doesn’t have a sister. He’s a spoiled only child.”

  “Then I say we kill him.”

  Meg raised an eyebrow. “Good idea.” She pivoted to her right and headed for the open French doors that led into the banquet room.

  Alarm shot through Joe. He had visions of her interrupting the wedding down below, beating Carl to death with a folding chair and then saying in court, during her trial, that it was all Joe Rossi’s idea. He took off after her, catching her by the arm as she passed over the threshold into the building. “Wait a minute, Meg. What are you going to do?”

  She jerked her arm out of his grip. “I’m going to kill him, just like you said.”

  And there it was—his worst nightmare. Joe glanced around the suddenly quiet room, seeing a number of eyes looking back at them. Amazing how that many people could be so suddenly still and attentive. Standing in a sea of white-cloth-covered and flower-bedecked tables with mint-green accents everywhere, Joe said to the room in general, “She’s just kidding.”

  Meg said, “No, I’m not.” She held out her hand to him. “Give me that knife you said you have.”

  A loud, nervous laugh erupted from Joe. “Such a kidder, this one. Come here, you.”

  His jaw set, Joe firmly grabbed her arm and marched her across the room. “If you’ll forget murder, I promise you I will come up with something that will hit him where it hurts worst—right in the old love life. With any luck, it won’t be something that gets us both thrown into prison for the rest of our lives.”

  “Prison? Oh my God, it’s coming true. Wendy said I would end up there one day and have to be some big sweaty chick’s bitch.”

  Joe performed a neat double take. “What?” Still hustling her out of earshot of the very interested waitstaff, he kept shooting her pointed, and amused, glances. “You know, I don’t even have a response to that—except to say I think being in prison is enough punishment for a…big sweaty chick without tossing you into her cell. So let’s just see if we can keep you out of there, all right?”

  9

  IT WAS LATE NOW. Close to midnight. And what an evening it had been, Meg mused, reliving it all in quick, kaleidoscopic bursts of memory. The Mafia encounter and the Carl sighting had been so upsetting that Joe had suggested they abandon their idea to eat out and go for a moonlight walk on the beach instead. Sounded good to her. So they’d called Room Service and ordered two steak suppers with all the trimmings. While they’d waited for the food to arrive, they’d laughed about the chances of the Mafia or Uncle Maury showing up instead of Room Service.

  But when their order had arrived in the care of a skinny, harmless guy named Roy, he’d received a hero’s welcome and a big tip, much to his confused delight. They’d then eaten their supper right down to the T-bones, shoved the cart back out in the hall, ordered up an action-adventure movie on the TV, jumped on the bed like two kids and watched the show. And now here they were, just lying here with the TV on, not talking and totally avoiding the subject of sex and how they hadn’t done it yet, despite their really, really wanting to earlier—before their ill-fated condom-buying trip.

  Darn it. Had Joe cooled toward her? Was his mind now full of thoughts of Linda? Was he sorry for what they’d done earlier…the kisses, the words of wanting?

  The hard truth was he could be. If so, Meg didn’t really want to know. What she’d like to do—but couldn’t really see herself doing—despite her newfound boldness, was turn to him and say, So, are you going to blow Linda off, like me better and have sex with me, or not? If the answer’s yes, I’d be more than happy to hand you the phone right now so you can tell her to go jump off a mountain without her freakin’ skis. Wouldn’t that be charming? Wouldn’t it totally set the mood for something wild and wonderful between her and Joe? Not.

  To make matters worse, or more frustrating, Joe was lying on the big, inviting bed with her, all kicked back with pillows propping him up. It just wasn’t fair, all this masculine pulchritude and none of it hers. Why, the man could easily grace a building-size men’s underwear ad in Times Square, he was so well put together. He was also so close she could smell his aftershave, which mingled sinfully with his own personal scent. Certainly, the whole physical package was there, but what she felt for him—the desire, the yearning—was way beyond that.

  She’d known him less than thirty hours, and yet she already knew she wanted his nearness, the intimacy of him holding her and kissing her hair and telling her he cared. She wanted him to make her feel warm and safe and protected. She wanted everything with him, all the emotions and experiences she’d never had before with a man—and quite possibly couldn’t have with this one, either. Damn it.

  Or could she? After all, it’d be a shame to waste all this effort Maury had put into keeping them together—Joe’s most recent theory—by letting tonight slip away in innocence. Surely she should at least attempt to honor her sweet old neighbor’s wishes by making an effort. Meg exhaled slowly, gathering her nerve.

  Striving for nonchalance, she said, “So, that was pretty funny, huh, Joe?”

  He hit the mute button on the remote control and turned to her. “What was?”

  Her comment had earned her his steady regard. Oh, those blue, blue eyes of his with the sensual glint in them! She watched him roving his gaze slowly over her face, as if he needed to memorize each of her features for a future test. Meg could barely swallow. She subtly cleared her throat, prayed for speech to come to her lips again, and croaked out, “I’m sorry…what was…?”

  He chuckled. “I don’t know. That’s what I was asking you. But I will say this—you have the best bedroom eyes I’ve ever seen. Like dark chocolate that melts in your mouth.”

  Well, she liked hearing that. “You got all that out of my eyes, cowboy?”

  He nodded slowly. “That and more.”

  The man was wreaking havoc with her breathing. She stared mutely at him, seeing the unasked but burning question in his eyes. Unexpectedly, she felt shy.

  “Do I make you nervous, Meg?” His bold, intent stare said he damn well knew he did and he wasn’t sorry, either.

  Neither was she. “Oh, yeah, you do…among other things.”

  “Good. So, you were trying to tell me something was funny?”

  She opened her mouth, just enough to allow her to catch her breath against the fine tension invading her body. “I was?”

  “You were.”

  “Oh. Yes.” Mentally shaking herself out of her delicious lethargy, she sat up straighter, as if the very air was not humid and heavy with desire. “I meant you. You’re funny. I cannot believe you crank-called Carl’s room!”

  That got a laugh out of him…a husky rumbling sound from deep in his throat. Meg practically had to sit on her hands to keep from placing them open-palmed on his chest just so she could feel the vibration. “Me, neither,” he said. “Pretty immature, huh?”

  “Maybe. But better than murder and prison—”

  “Which comes with a big sweaty chick telling you you’re her woman now.”

  “Amen.” Dressed in cotton lounging short-shorts and matching T-shirt—Maury could be her mother, he’d packed so well for her—Meg sat propped up against pillows. “What a coincidence that Carl the cheater is staying here—”

  “Soon to be was staying here.”

  “No doubt. It’s just like him to book a room for Mr. and Mrs. Carl Woodruff. Ha! What an ego. He wouldn’t even use a fake name like we did. He just wanted everyone to know he has a woman in his room. Well, who cares?”

  Joe chuckled.
“I bet the fake Mrs. Woodruff soon will. And not in a good way, either.”

  “I hear you. Once the wedding reception breaks up and they go to their room and pick up that message from the ‘front desk’ saying Carl’s ‘wife’ called to tell him that she and the children could get away after all and that they would be driving down right now to join him, his big evening is so over. I just pray that he doesn’t hear it first and delete it. Oh, I’d love to see his face while he’s trying to explain it to his date. That big blonde will tear him a new one before he can say a word to defend himself.”

  Dressed in navy blue nylon athletic shorts and a T-shirt from the hotel’s gift shop, Joe grinned. “Pretty brilliant, huh? Especially the part where I said there was something wrong with the hotel’s phones and therefore his wife couldn’t leave the message herself.”

  “You are fabulous, do you know that?” Giddy with the deliciousness of the gotcha Joe had perpetrated, Meg impulsively grabbed him around his neck and peppered his face with kisses as she praised him. “You are so brilliant, even going down to the pay phone in the lobby to make the call so it couldn’t be traced to this room. How anonymous. How wonderful—”

  “Whoa, ease up, woman.” Joe held her arms and grinned at her. “Do you have any idea how much all your compliments are turning me on? Don’t start something you’re not ready to finish. That’s the rule.”

  She froze, stared at him—and then scooted back over the sheets to her side of the bed. “I am so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I just got carried away with the moment—”

  “Meg. It’s okay. I enjoyed it.”

  “You did?”

  “Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Are you serious? Do you really want me to start naming the people and reasons why you have every right to say you shouldn’t?”

  Making a face, Joe held up a cautioning hand. “Please don’t. I know them all. Besides, I said why wouldn’t I, not why shouldn’t I.”

  “That’s true.” Meg’s voice dragged with defeat. “But what do we do with that? The ‘shouldn’t’ part, I mean. This is really confusing, Joe. Seriously, we both know what we feel for each other. At least, I think we do.” She was taking a big chance here, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. “We do, right?”

  Joe’s chuckle had nothing to do with humor as he ran a hand through his hair and then massaged the back of his neck. “Yeah, we do, Meg,” he finally said. “I don’t think either one of us could deny it. And I’m not going to. Like you, I keep thinking about everything, and, well, it’s pretty complicated in one way and really simple in another.”

  Meg restlessly shifted her position atop the bedcovers, finally sitting forward and crossing her legs like a kid sitting by a campfire. “You know what, Joe? We’re talking all around this thing, so I’m just going to ask you what ‘it,’ specifically, you are talking about. Just so we’re on the same page and don’t end up embarrassing ourselves later.”

  “Fair enough. I guess I mean Linda. I keep thinking about Linda.”

  Disappointment filled Meg, but her laugh was self-deprecating, her humor a shield. “Wow. Shot down. You’ve been with me for nearly thirty solid hours and you still aren’t sure you want to give up rich, blond, Miss World-Class-Perfect Linda? I must be losing it in the femme fatale category.”

  “I don’t mean it that way, Meg. You’re taking it wrong.”

  “Well, what’s the right way to take it, then?” She’d pretty much snapped at him. “Sorry. That didn’t come out like I wanted it to. I’m just frustrated.”

  “I know you are. Believe me, so am I. The good news is, we wouldn’t be if we didn’t, uh, feel something for each other, right?”

  This was encouraging. “Right. So what do we do about it?”

  “I can’t—” Joe pressed his lips together, apparently against what he’d been about to say, and stared at her, looking uncertain how to proceed.

  Meg shamelessly pressed the point. “You can’t what?”

  “I can’t make a commitment to her, I guess.”

  With his first words, Meg’s roller-coaster heart had soared to the heights—but by the end of his sentence had plummeted to the depths. “You guess? You really need to be sure about this, Joe. No guessing allowed.”

  “I wasn’t guessing about how I feel. I was guessing that a commitment is what she is looking for from me. But, actually, it’s much more serious than that.”

  “How serious?”

  “Marriage serious.”

  “Yikes. But you don’t…?” She dragged the word out, all the while shaking her head slowly as if to encourage him to answer in the negative.

  “No. I don’t.”

  Yes! It worked. Meg fisted her hand but stopped herself just short of pumping it victoriously in the air. Adopting a solemn expression, she continued as if she were the man’s interested but uninvolved therapist. “I take it she asked you to marry her?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you…?”

  “Took off for Florida.”

  Oh, good answer. “Whoa. So, do you think she’s probably suspected what your answer is going to be? Like you told me about Carl, if I had to think about it, then the answer was always no—remember?”

  “I do.”

  Meg got the irony of his reply right along with Joe, and laughed with him. “Better watch saying those two words, cowboy. They can get you into a lot of trouble.”

  The humor slowly left Joe’s features. “I think I already am. A couple of days ago I was leaning toward telling Linda yes. But not anymore, Meg. I now know I would have been committing to her for all the wrong reasons, and she deserves better than that.”

  “So do you. But I think I know you well enough to say one of the reasons was never her money.”

  “No, it wasn’t. And it’s nice to know that comes through.”

  “In spades, Joe. You’re very honorable. A man of conviction. I respect that.”

  He absently scratched at his temple. “You make me sound like I should run for sheriff.”

  Meg’s eyes widened appreciatively. “Ooh, I think you’d look great in a uniform and a badge with a big old gun strapped to your hip, cowboy. Very sexy.”

  “Listen to you.” Joe pulled a pillow out from behind his back and gave her a gentle whack with it.

  Meg playfully fended off the feather-soft blow and slumped contentedly against her stack of pillows. “So, can I ask you something else?”

  “Like I could stop you.”

  “True.” She glanced over at him and inhaled for courage. “Okay, does your saying no to Linda…well, does it have anything to do with me, maybe?” A rush of embarrassed heat invaded her cheeks.

  “Honey,” he said, “it has everything to do with you in one way. And nothing at all to do with you in another.”

  “I wish I could say I know what you’re talking about.”

  “What I meant was, on the one hand and independent of you, I came to realize that what I feel for Linda isn’t everything it should be.”

  “Got that part.” Meg crossed her legs and watched her foot waggling away nervously…or excitedly. “You, uh, said there was another part…”

  Joe laughed at her. “You’re on a fishing expedition, aren’t you?”

  She wouldn’t look at him, just shrugged.

  “All right, the other part is, I also realized that no matter how strong and real what I felt for Linda might have been…once I met you, it was all over. So I’m glad you came along when you did, because it would have caused a whole hell of a lot of heartache if I’d met you after I was already married.”

  Meg’s heart brimmed with joy. “I don’t know what to say.”

  Joe’s raised eyebrows modeled alarm. “You better. Because if, after everything I just said, you say you only want to be my friend—”

  “Joe, you and I could never be just friends.”

  “I know. And that’s why, tomorrow morning, first thing, I’ll call Linda and tell her it’s over. I want
ed to tell her face-to-face, but I don’t think I can wait another week, or that she’ll let me. I could fly back early and do it, but not in the middle of this Uncle Maury mess. So, bottom line, if I want any peace of mind, I have to call her.” He sat up. “Maybe I should just call her right now—”

  “Whoa, hold on, Joe.” Meg placed a calming hand on his arm. “I appreciate your urgency, I really do. But don’t call her tonight. Let her sleep. Tomorrow is plenty soon enough.”

  Relaxing, he slumped back against his pillows. “I guess you’re right. And it’s like you said, she probably knows it’s coming.”

  Meg sat back, too, folding her hands together over her abdomen. “I think she does.”

  “And what about Carl?”

  Meg grinned. “I think Carl’s kind of busy right now, or I’d call him and tell him to bite me.”

  Joe grunted. “It shouldn’t be so damn hard to do the right thing, should it?”

  “No.”

  Joe was quiet for a moment and then softly said, “Hey, you.”

  Meg looked over at him to see the light dancing in his electric-blue eyes.

  “I’m glad it’s you, Meg. Glad as hell you came along when you did. You’re amazing, and I want to get to know everything about you.”

  Happy tears caught her unaware and pricked at her eyes. Her smile trembled with emotion.

  Joe sat up sharply and put a comforting hand on her thigh. “Hey, you’re not going to cry, are you? Did I say something wrong? Just because I feel a certain way about you, Meg, it doesn’t mean you have to feel it, too—”

  “Oh, shut up, Joe.” Leaning over to him, she gathered his hands in hers. “I feel the same way about you. It’s crazy, but I’ve only known you one whole day and already we’ve been through so much that I feel as if we’ve known each other for years. You’re so easy to be with and I really, really like you and you make me laugh and you’re so freakin’ hot—”

  “Are you trying to seduce me, Meg?”

  She stopped…and stared at him, wondering if, just like that, they were past the hard part and had truly moved on to the part where he was hard. No, that didn’t sound classy. Maybe she should have said they were over the hump. And that didn’t sound right, either. Okay, her mind was in the gutter. Or the bed. And Joe was still waiting for her answer.