by Girard, Dara
“I don’t drop clients. I end consultation.”
Pauline wasn’t in the mood to worry about semantics. “Did you drop her?”
Brenna picked up a pen. “Yes.”
“She’ll go to your competition.”
Brenna bit the end. “I know. I plan to recommend her.”
“Why?”
“I had to think of a way to let her down gently. I’ll recommend her with reservation.”
“The owner of Perfect Match is getting married.”
Brenna set her pen down Perfect Match was one of her main competitors. “I know.”
“Clients may start wondering why you aren’t married.”
“Clients worry about their own social lives not mine.”
Pauline went back to the front desk. Brenna cleared up her desk ready to leave. The buzzer rang. “Yes?”
“You’re 5:59 appointment is here,” Pauline said resigned.
Brenna glanced at her calendar confused. “My what?”
The door swung open; Hunter appeared in the doorway. Her spirits fell as her heart accelerated. He was still gorgeous. She had hoped she’d imagined it.
He held up a flyer. “I didn’t know you were sponsoring a Spring Single’s Party. Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
She tapped her finger against the desk. “Are you extremely slow-witted or do you just enjoy being insulted?”
Unperturbed, Hunter folded the flyer and tucked it inside his jacket. “Are you ready for dinner?”
“I told you I am not going out with you.”
Hunter nodded. “Yes, I remember you mentioned that.” He rested a hand on his chest. “And since I am a considerate person, I decided that we’ll eat in.” He stepped into her office and opened the door wider. Two waiters dressed in black tuxedos entered, respectively pulling and pushing a table draped in a royal blue tablecloth with red and golden candles sitting among two covered plates, a basket of wheat rolls, and chilled lemonade.
Hunter said a few words to the waiters before they left. He turned, his eyes clung to hers. “I forgot to say hi.”
“Hi.” She cleared her throat annoyed with how breathy she sounded. “This is ridiculous.”
He shut the door and closed the blinds. “No, it’s not.” He glanced around the room. “Where’s the puppy?”
“He’s not mine. I was only looking after him for a short while.”
“Oh,” Hunter said sounding a little disappointed. “I got this for him.” He set a chew toy on her desk. “Would you like a puppy?”
“No,” she said quickly in case he got any ideas.
“Okay.” He took out a lighter and lit the candles. Then he turned off the lights letting the flames cast shadows on the walls. “Won’t you come and join me?”
“I don’t work after hours.”
“This is called eating.” He held out his hand. “Want me to show you how?”
“I know how to eat.”
His hand remained stretched out to her. “Good.”
Brenna was hungry, but was trying to think of the best way to reach the table without him seeing her walk. It would be awkward otherwise since she wasn’t the woman he thought she was. “I’m a little chilly. Could you get my sweater, please? It’s in the hall closet.”
“I’ll loan you my jacket.”
He would be chivalrous. “I’d prefer my sweater.”
“This is better.”
“Here.” He draped the jacket around her shoulders. It encompassed her in its warmth and musky scent. “There. Now come on.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. She landed on her bad leg and stumbled into him.
He looked down at her concerned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pull you so hard.”
“It’s not you, it’s me. I have a bad leg.” She glanced at her cane hidden under the desk. “I use that to walk.”
“Oh. Good.” He grabbed her chair then set it at the table.
She stared at him. “Good?”
“Yes, I’m glad I didn’t hurt you. Now come on. I’m hungry.”
Brenna only stood there. Good. That was it? No, ‘I’m sorry’, or other such platitude? No pity, no sadness, no disgust? He didn’t care? Her relief nearly made her laugh. Instead she grabbed her cane and folder then sat at the table.
Hunter lifted the covers off the plates and revealed grilled chicken, seasoned basmati rice, tomato and feta salad.
He poured the lemonade as she bit into the chicken. Outside they heard cars passing by and the quick pattering of footsteps as people headed home.
Brenna searched her thoughts for something to say, but her mind seemed to be experiencing sensory overload. A room usually familiar to her now seemed strange, smaller more intimate, tinged with the scent of cologne and brushed cotton mingling with the taste of spices.
She watched Hunter bring his glass to his lips. They really were incongruous with the rest of him. They should have been stern not so sensual.
“I do find you handsome,” she said.
He choked and began to cough.
“Are you all right?”
He set the glass down. “I’m fine.”
“Is that how you accept a compliment?”
Hunter sent her a playful glare. “You surprised me.”
“I thought you’d be used to them.” Brenna began to grin. “There’s so much to compliment. Your eyes, your body, your mind.”
He leaned forward the flickering candlelight dancing in his dark eyes. “Thank you.”
Her gaze fell. “This meal is delicious.”
“Brenna—”
“I’ve found her.”
He hesitated. “Who?”
“Your fake fiancée. It wasn’t very nice of you not to come by the other day.”
“I was hoping that absence would make your heart grow fonder.”
“It didn’t. It only annoyed me.” She opened her folder and handed him a picture. “She’s attractive, educated, works in advertising, volunteers with numerous organizations, has never married but hopes to.”
Hunter glanced at the picture then set it aside. “I’m not interested she—” He stopped then stared at the picture again. Brenna wasn’t surprised. Sara always warranted a second glance, especially from men.
“I know her,” he said.
“Oh, then this should be easy.”
He looked at her horrified. “Are you kidding? I’d never go out with her again. I admit she’s attractive both in real life and on paper, but she needs a caution sticker: Men Beware.”
“She’s very sweet.”
“Saccharine. Took me two months to break up with her.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Do you know how hard it is to break up with someone because they’re too sweet?”
Brenna opened her folder pleased she’d come up with a plan B. “Then there’s Carlotta Willington. She’s—”
He shook his head. “Completely unsuitable.”
“Why?”
“Too flighty. She has absolutely no common sense to keep her grounded.”
“Barbara Jason—”
He shook his head. “Her name should be Barbiturate.”
Brenna closed her folder and glared at him. “Is there a woman in this city you haven’t gone out with?”
“Yes. You.”
Brenna cut into her chicken with a short, determined motion. “I’m not going.” She chewed a moment then pointed a finger at him. “I’ve got the perfect woman.”
“Is she medium height, brown hair, wearing a nondescript jacket?”
She frowned. “Yes. How did you know?”
“The wicked grin pulling on the corner of your mouth alerted me that you wanted to dump one of your rejects.”
“Helen is not a reject.”
“Helen.” He nodded. “So the creature has a name.”
“First, Helen is not a creature and second how do you know her?”
“I met a woman who was leaving the building.
She looked at me well...let’s just say a man usually gets such open invitations on street corners.”
“Do you frequent street corners?”
“I don’t have to.”
Brenna glanced at the ceiling. Poor Helen couldn’t even get a desperate man like Hunter interested.
Hunter was quiet a moment. “What kind of man are you looking for?”
“None of your business.”
“I bet you have a list hidden somewhere.”
Brenna felt her cheeks getting hot, but managed to keep her features neutral. “No, I don’t.”
He tapped the side of his head. “All up here I suppose.”
She scooped her rice.
“He’ll have to be in good shape.”
“Who?”
“Your perfect match. Since you won’t tell me your type, I’m forced to guess.” He tapped his finger against the table. “He can’t be too tall. You’d like to be able to look him in the eye. Equality is very important to you. He must have nice teeth because smiles are essential. He must think with his heart, not his head.” He sipped his drink. “An artistic type, perhaps, with or without money and have lots of charm.”
“I don’t go for artistic types. He doesn’t need to make as much as I do, but I would like him to have a steady income.”
“And he must be kind, handsome and love your mother.”
“No.”
“No? You don’t want a kind—”
“I want the first two, but he doesn’t have to love my mother. I love her dearly, but she’d drive any man insane.”
“There’s no father in the picture?”
“He left for other reasons, but her habit of driving men batty may have been one of them.” Brenna concentrated on her food, feeling his eyes on her. “Stop that.”
He glanced away. “I can’t do anything about my height, however I do have a stable job, I am in line for a promotion, and I’m handsome, charming and kind. I think I’ll do.”
She pointed her fork at him. “You forgot something.”
“What?”
“I haven’t seen you smile yet.”
To her surprise he looked embarrassed. “I’m afraid that’s not my strong point.” “Are you missing teeth?”
“No. It just doesn’t suit me.”
“Your smile doesn’t suit you?”
“That’s right.”
“That’s not possible. Everyone’s smile suits them in some way.”
He shook his head. “Okay, so there are two strikes against me, but I make up for them by getting along with parents, especially mothers. They love me.”
“You have to...” She stopped and fell forward. “What did you say?”
He began to repeat himself. “Okay, so there are two strikes—”
She waved her fork. “No, no about mothers.”
“They love me.”
She stared at him as a devious idea formed in her mind. She quickly shook her head. “No, I couldn’t.”
“Couldn’t what?”
It was a terrible, but tempting idea. If she could present Hunter as her boyfriend her mother would finally leave her in peace. Unfortunately, then she’d have to go to the banquet as his fiancée. She grabbed a roll and began to butter it. “Forget it.”
“Brenna—?”
“It’s nothing. So what are you looking for in a woman?” She expected a prompt reply. He surprised her by leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes.
“Medium height, healthy build, light brown hair.” He opened one eye. “I like a little imperfection, limps are nice.”
She stared at him stunned then laughed. Her limp was something people tried to ignore, he made it part of her appeal. Her heart swelled.
“The banquet is in two weeks so we’ll—”
“I didn’t say I would go.”
“I’ll pick you up in my Porsche.”
“I don’t care what car you drive.”
His expression turned serious. “A Porsche isn’t a car. It’s a driving experience.”
She bit her lip. “I beg your pardon.”
“Her name is Rhonda Goodnight.”
“That sounds like a porn star.” She shook her head before he could reply. “I don’t want to know.”
“It’s an interesting story.”
“I don’t care.”
He shrugged. “There will be a champagne waterfall, a spiraling staircase—”
Brenna clicked her tongue in pity. “And you standing there all alone.”
“I’ll buy your dress.”
She set her utensils down, feeling herself weaken. “Why me?”
“You fit my qualifications.”
She picked up her fork as her thoughts of romance disintegrated.
“Besides they’ll be expecting you.”
“They’ll be expecting me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I already described you and gave them your name.”
“That was presumptuous.”
“I was being optimistic.”
Brenna nodded. “Well, since it will be a night of lies you can find someone to pretend to be me.”
Hunter stared at her in consideration. “Why won’t you come?”
“Because the idea is ludicrous and second I’m not sure I like you.”
“Of course you do. You’re here.”
“I stayed for the food not the company.”
He glanced down at his chest.
“What are you doing?”
“Since you’ve just stabbed me through the heart, I thought there might be blood.”
Brenna reached out and patted his hand. “You’re made of stronger stuff.”
“I’m not so sure. So why aren’t you married?”
“Usual reasons.”
“It seems odd that a matchmaker isn’t matched herself.”
“You’re in medical supplies. Do you use bedpans or walking frames?”
Hunter fell back, covering his heart. “Withdraw your sword madam.”
Brenna laughed then bit her lip as her idea grew stronger in her mind. He would be perfect. Absolutely perfect. He could easily fool her mother. Stephen was right. She couldn’t tell him to take risks if she didn’t take any of her own. She decided to ignore caution and said, “If you do me a favor, I’ll go to the banquet with you.”
Hunter rubbed his hands together prepared for the task. “Yes. What is it?”
“I want you to meet my mother.”
His enthusiasm crumbled. “The one that drives men insane?” He lifted a brow. “You really don’t like me very much.”
“You’ll be able to handle her. I just need a man to take to dinner so she’ll see that I have a social life.”
“But you don’t.”
“And you don’t have a fiancée, but you’re willing to produce one.” Brenna waited, hoping she hadn’t asked too much. He had every right to say no.
He poured more lemonade into his glass and took a long swallow. He looked at her pensive. “Dinner with your mother.”
“That’s it. One night.”
Brenna could almost see his mind weighing the pros and cons. “Is she a good cook?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
She was so happy she leaped out of her seat. She quickly recovered herself and sat back down. “Great.”
The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Were you going to give me a hug?”
“No.”
Hunter held out his arms. “I don’t mind.”
She ignored him. “You’ll need a crash course.”
“In what?”
“How to survive a night with my mother.”
He stood. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
“You need to be prepared,” she insisted, hoping to convince him to stay a while longer. She liked having him there.
“Fine. We can discuss it another time. Here’s my card.” He reached down and then realized he wasn’t wearing his jacket. He looked at her then reache
d over, opened the jacket covering her shoulders, and retrieved a card. His hands brushed her side. “Here.”
Brenna took the card and slipped out of the jacket as though it were crawling with spiders. It suddenly felt far too intimate. “I’ll call you.”
He stood and opened the door. “I’ll have people come by early tomorrow and clear the table,” he said then left.
She blew out the candles, the sunlight casting strips of light across the floor.
Hunter suddenly reentered the room. “I forgot something.”
“What?”
Without warning, he brushed his lips against hers. “There. Now our bargain is sealed,” he whispered then as quickly as he’d arrived he disappeared.
Brenna sat behind her desk trying to dismiss the kiss even as it lingered on her lips. It was no big deal, she assured herself. She sat staring at the phone. She finally picked it up and dialed. When her mother answered she said, “I have someone I want you to meet.”
***
“It’s a terrible idea,” Pauline said once Brenna told her.
“What’s a terrible idea?” Tima asked entering the office.
Brenna stared. “What are you doing here?”
“I called her for backup once The Hurricane entered your office,” Pauline said.
“I’m able to handle him on my own.”
“That’s why you’re agreeing to this ridiculous idea?”
“What idea?” Tima asked. Brenna told her and Tima grinned. “I think it will be fun.”
Pauline scowled, raising her forefinger in the air. “This one act is sending feminism back generations.”
“I’m not doing this for feminism,” Brenna said. “I’m doing it to get my mother out of my life. At least temporarily.”
“There are other ways to do that,” Pauline said.
Brenna rested her elbows on the table intrigued. “How?”
“Just tell her truthfully to leave you alone.” The two women stared at Pauline amazed. She blushed. “Okay, I know that isn’t completely realistic but it’s better than being deceitful.”
“Be deceitful,” Tima said. “It might be fun.”
Pauline shook her head. “You haven’t met this guy. He’s egotistical, demanding, annoying—”
Tima shrugged. “This is a ploy not a proposal.”
Brenna nodded. “Exactly. Now if I could only get my brother to take a risk.”
“Get a fake date?”
“No, try something unlike him.”
