The Blind Date

by Delaney Diamond

  “Your server will be with you in a minute,” the hostess said.

  Ryan couldn’t take his eyes off Shawna.

  What were the chances that William Wallace’s sister-in-law was Shawna Ferguson? He’d met William at a local bar and they’d become friends, meeting up every so often to drink beer and debate politics, argue over sports, or bemoan their problems with the fairer sex. Sometimes all of the above. During all that time, he’d had no idea they were related and had only found out a few weeks ago.

  When William had mentioned the name Shawna, and at Ryan’s request followed up with a photo of his sister-in-law, Ryan had stopped breathing, unable to believe his luck. She’d been in his thoughts numerous times over the years, and he’d given up any chance of ever seeing her again.

  Now, here she sat, across from him.

  She had bangs now, and the overhead light picked up the reddish tones in the dark brown strands, reminding him of the colorful striations in the cherry wood at his woodworking shop. Reminding him, too, of how he’d wound his fingers in her hair to hold her in place while he drove into her.

  With her hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, he could drink in her features. Physically, she hadn’t changed over the years. Smooth, dark skin, a somewhat pointy nose, and her mouth . . . It had been the first thing he noticed when he’d gotten close enough to see her features that first day. Pouty, generous. The kind of mouth a man wanted to take his time kissing.

  So many parts of her were generous. Her breasts, for example, which he now had a good view of because she’d removed her sweater. The material of the short-sleeved dress looked like it had been melted over them, prominently displaying the luscious mounds in all their glory.

  He shifted in the chair to alleviate the tightening in his pants.

  Then of course, there was her generous behind, which he’d enjoyed seeing, whether covered in a pair of tight jeans or when he’d had the pleasure of watching her slip from the hotel bed to the bathroom. He couldn’t decide which view he liked best—watching her coming or going.

  A pair of sultry brown eyes beneath long lashes looked up at him from the menu. “Do you know what you want?”

  Ryan leaned back in the chair, keeping his gaze on her. He hated the way they’d parted, but he had no one to blame but himself. He’d been young, foolish, and a coward.

  “Yes. I know exactly what I want.”

  From the moment he’d seen her, he’d known.

  Chapter Three

  Chicago, Friday, six years ago

  From his position at the end of the aisle at the Food Mart, Ryan watched the young black woman at the other end flip through a magazine. She looked a couple of years younger than his twenty-four.

  Impeccable in a blue dress that showed off her hourglass figure, she had a Coach purse hung over one shoulder and wore a pair of patent leather pumps shiny enough to double as a mirror. Her dark brown, shoulder-length hair looked lustrous and silky, covering most of her face. Lucky for him, he’d seen her when she first walked in and had received the full effect.

  Other than a quick glance, she hadn’t paid attention to him, but he couldn’t say the same. He’d been watching her ever since she entered the store and had yet to work up the nerve to approach.

  Shaking his head, he walked away.

  He wasn’t exactly dressed to impress, unshaven in an old T-shirt, worn jeans, and a baseball cap turned backwards. She’d probably take one look at him and laugh.

  Ryan went two aisles over and picked up the toiletries he’d come in to purchase and then headed for the check-out. At the front, he saw her standing in line. He went to the other cashier and waited behind an elderly woman with a cane, counting out her payment in quarters.

  The young black woman laughed and said something to the male cashier. He couldn’t hear what she’d said, but he’d heard her laugh well enough, and he liked the sound of it. From his sideways grin, it looked like the cashier was flirting with her.

  Ryan looked at the elderly woman beside him. Her wrinkled fingers trembled as she counted.

  “One, two, three, four—four dollars. One, two, three, four—five dollars.”

  He and the cashier made eye contact, and the young woman smiled apologetically.

  His gaze shifted again, and he saw the object of his attention had finished her purchase and headed on her way out the door.

  “One, two, three, four—seven dollars.”

  A wave of panic seized him. He couldn’t let her walk away. He had to take the chance, even if he risked being laughed at. Besides, if she brushed him off, soon he’d be back in Oklahoma and would never see her again.

  “One, two, three, four—nine dollars.”

  What did he have to lose?

  “Sorry,” Ryan muttered to the cashier. “I’ll be back to get those.” Abandoning his items on the conveyor belt, he turned sideways and slid past the senior citizen, rushing to the revolving door.

  Outside, he looked left down Michigan Avenue, then right—and that’s when he saw her. Heart racing, he quickened his steps and walked up beside her. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” she said cautiously.

  “I don’t usually do this, and I wish I’d thought of a line before I approached you, but I . . . I saw you and followed you and wanted to meet you.”

  She kept walking, but a small smile hovered around her mouth. “Is that right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I saw you, too.”

  “You did?” Progress already. He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “What did you think?”

  “I thought the whole hat to the back thing doesn’t work unless you’re a hip-hop artist or in a boy band.”

  “Ouch. That hurt.” He twisted the brim of his hat to the front. “What else?”

  “Are you really following me?”

  “I’ve been following you since we were in the Food Mart.”

  “Should I be worried?”

  “I’m harmless.”

  She looked him up and down but didn’t say a word. They walked along in silence. He’d acted before thinking, and he rummaged through his brain to think of what to say next.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “You first.”

  “Ryan Stewart.”

  “Shawna.”

  “I’ll never forget that name. Do you have a last name?”

  “Yes, but I’m not giving it to you.” They slowed to a stop in front of Saks Fifth Avenue. “Well, Ryan Stewart, as flattering as it is to have a man follow me from the Food Mart, I have to go now. My lunch break’s over, and I have to get back to work.”

  Ryan stuffed his hands in his pockets. “What do you do here?” he asked, trying to prolong their time together. “If I wanted to get a gift for someone, would you be the person to speak to?”

  “I could help, but you’d be better off talking to one of the seasoned sales reps. I’m finishing up my summer job here, and I work in visual merchandising.”

  “Summer job? Do you live in Chicago, or . . . ?”

  “I’m a Southern girl, and I . . . look, I have to go. It was really sweet of you to say hello.”

  “Have dinner with me,” he blurted as she turned away.

  Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Are you serious?”

  “As a hostage situation.”

  Her eyes darted away so he couldn’t read her thoughts. A light breeze blew hair across her face, and he almost reached up to brush away the fine strands that caressed her cheek and wrapped around her neck. She tucked the fluttering strands behind her ear.

  Her brow furrowed. “Why me?” she asked. “Out of all these women walking around out here.”

  “There are other women out here?” Ryan looked around at the pedestrians as if seeing them for the first time. “I didn’t even notice. I only have eyes for you.”

  A beat later, they both burst out laughing.

  “Good one,” Shawna said. “Have you used it before?”

  “First tim
e. I thought of it on the fly. Good though, right?” He stopped grinning and looked her in the eyes to make sure she knew how serious he was. “But I meant it. Let me buy you dinner.”

  “Ryan, I’m not interested in seeing anyone right now. You seem very sweet, but I’ll be leaving in a couple of days, so I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  He couldn’t let her get away. She had to say yes. He’d come to Chicago to clear his head, and somehow he knew she’d play an important role in helping him finalize the decision he’d been struggling to make.

  “It’s only dinner.” He could see her waver as she shifted from one foot to the other and tucked her purse closer to her body. “When do you get off?”

  She laughed nervously. “This is ridiculous.”

  “No, it’s not. You have to eat and I want to feed you. Makes sense to me.” He hoped that by keeping the conversation light, she wouldn’t overthink it and slip from his grasp, leaving him standing there with no way to see her again. “What kind of food do you like?”

  Shawna shook her head in defeat. “French cuisine is my favorite.”

  “And when do you get off?”

  “At six.”

  “I’ll be here at five-fifty, waiting.”

  “If you’re not, it’s no big deal.” She shrugged.

  He fixed his gaze on her face. “I hope that’s not true.”

  She hesitated, tilting her head slightly, brown eyes observing him as if trying to figure him out. She obviously still doubted his sincerity.

  “I’ll see you at six, Ryan Stewart.”

  Chapter Four

  Present day, Atlanta

  Somehow, Ryan had charmed Shawna into accepting his invitation to dinner that day. She could tell some of the charm was still there, though she noted differences in him that came with age. He still had an easygoing, affable personality, but his face had matured and he had bigger muscles, causing him to exude an overt masculinity that called out to her femininity.

  She closed her menu when the waitress arrived. After some prodding from Ryan, she’d decided to order a meal instead of an appetizer. Yet again he’d gotten his way. He’d reminded her of where they were, and she couldn’t resist placing an order for one of her favorite dishes.

  She chose the salmon with beurre blanc and roasted vegetables, while Ryan opted for a meal of steak medallions with potatoes and haricot verts. To start, they each ordered a cup of the French onion soup.

  The waitress tried to tempt them with wine, but knowing she’d need to keep a clear head, Shawna declined. She requested water with lemon and Ryan selected a bottle of Orangina soda.

  She fiddled with the napkin on her lap before curiosity overwhelmed her. “How do you know my brother-in-law and sister?”

  “I met William first,” he said. “He and I go to the same bar, and one day we struck up a conversation and became friends. We happened to meet up there around the same time every so often to watch sports when he wasn’t working late at the hospital. He likes to show off photos of his family. It’s obvious how much he loves Yvonne and the kids.

  “The last time I saw him, he mentioned his sweet and beautiful sister-in-law, and how he couldn’t figure out why you weren’t married. He hadn’t talked about you much before then, and when he said your name, I couldn’t believe it. I asked him your last name, and the next thing I know, he’s showing me a picture of you.”

  “How did you convince him to set this up?”

  “It wasn’t easy. At first he said no way, but then he said he’d discuss it with Yvonne. She eventually came on board when I told her I’d been looking for you and how happy I was to find you again.”

  “My sister’s smarter than that. She can usually see through BS.”

  “Maybe there wasn’t any BS. I really am happy to find you.”

  His intense stare made Shawna uncomfortable. She played with the knife and fork on the table, moving them around before shifting them right back into the same position again.

  “How long have you lived in Atlanta?” she asked.

  “I moved here a few years ago. I’m a member of a few woodworking and custom furniture organizations. Someone in one of my networks heard about an owner selling his woodworking shop on the west end. It included the shop, the warehouse, and all the tools and machinery. After living in Oklahoma all my life, I wanted to leave and experience something different. I came to inspect the place and liked what I saw. The location was right, and the workers were anxious to please because they didn’t want to lose their jobs. I had a CPA inspect the books, and after the seller turned over his list of clients to me, I bought the place.”

  “So you really did stay in custom furniture?”

  Ryan nodded. “I was never cut out to sit in an office behind a desk. I need a scraper in my hand and the buzz of a power saw or sander in my head. The noise from the machines and the dust are like heaven to me. Few things are as enjoyable as building something from scratch. To consult with a client and take a product from a concept and create a useable piece of furniture—well, there’s nothing else like it. Of course being in this kind of business wreaks havoc on your hands.” He looked down at his palms.

  His hands had been lightly calloused in Chicago from working on a farm most of his life and then as a woodworking apprentice. She’d never minded it, though.

  “Congratulations on your success,” Shawna said.

  “Congratulations are in order for you, too. William told me you opened a boutique.”

  When she’d met Ryan, she’d finished school and worked at Saks Fifth Avenue, as she had every summer since her freshman year except when she went to France.

  It had been her last summer with the company and they’d wanted to hire her on permanently, but she’d had other plans. She learned everything she could from them, the entire time thinking about her dream of one day opening her own store.

  Nursing a wounded heart but determined to succeed, she’d opened a boutique named La Petite Robe a little over a year after moving to Atlanta. She chose Buckhead as the location, a major commercial district in the city. The astronomical lease initially caused her concern, but she’d made the right decision because the location turned out to be perfect, bringing in the type of clientele she longed to work with and who appreciated the designer clothing from New York and Paris.

  Her success had surprised even her, but she probably wouldn’t have accomplished what she had so quickly if it weren’t for what had happened between her and Ryan. She’d put all her time and energy into the store, working hard to forget him and his lies, slicing in half her timetable to open the boutique.

  The waitress arrived with the drinks and the soups.

  “Thank you,” Shawna said, about to dig in when she felt Ryan’s gaze on her and saw the longing in his eyes. Her insides twisted painfully.

  “Do you remember our first night together?” he asked.

  She moistened her lips with her tongue but regretted it when he zeroed in on her mouth. Taking in a slow, deep breath, she wiped her damp palms on the napkin in her lap. “Are you going to keep doing that?”

  “Doing what?”

  “Make references to our night together.”

  “I thought that’s why we were here.”

  “You’re mistaken. We’re here to catch up, not talk about the past.”

  “I don’t think we can have one without the other.”

  “You’re mistaken again.”

  He fell quiet and his silent observation caused a curious sensation to settle in her stomach. Ryan made her feel on edge and she had a sudden urge to scoot her chair back. The square table between them no longer seemed adequate.

  “Are you telling me you don’t think about it?” he asked quietly. “What it was like that first night?”

  She’d thought about it often and had unfairly compared all her first dates and every other man to him over the years. They invariably fell short. Hard to believe how one night changed her life so much.

  She shrugged,
pretending a nonchalance she was far from feeling. “Every now and again.”

  He leaned forward. “Liar.”

  Heat burned her cheeks, and she was grateful for her dark complexion so he couldn’t see her embarrassment. “What do you want me to say?”

  “I want you to admit that you think about it often, because I do. I have yet to meet a woman who measures up to you. The memory is as vivid as if it had been yesterday. I remember taking you out to dinner and you wore that bluish colored dress from work.”

  Teal, she corrected in her head. She remembered what he wore, too. He’d dressed up to impress her.

  “I remember the look on your face when I pulled up in front of the restaurant.”

  “It was a nice restaurant. And a very expensive one, too.”

  His unwavering gaze held hers. “You were worth every dime. And more.”

  Chapter Five

  Chicago, Friday, six years ago

  Shawna couldn’t hide her surprise when Ryan returned to Saks dressed in a white shirt, tie, and pressed slacks. He’d shaved off the day-old facial hair, and she smelled a hint of musk from his aftershave.

  Her brows lifted. “You clean up well.”

  “I didn’t make a good first impression so I figured I’d better bring my A-game. I passed this time?” Arms outstretched, he turned in a slow circle.

  He definitely had a nice body and she whistled, noting the firm butt and narrow waist. “Not bad, Mr. Stewart.”

  “Which reminds me. You owe me something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A last name.”

  “It’s Ferguson.”

  “Shawna Ferguson,” he said, as if committing it to memory.

  “By the way, my co-workers have your name and they’re writing down your license plate number as we speak. So don’t do anything crazy.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of doing anything crazy—unless you want me to.” He drew a laugh when he wagged his eyebrows, and then he looked at the store to see two women standing at the window. He waved and they waved back. Returning his gaze to Shawna, he crooked his arm. “Your chariot awaits.”