by Delia Latham
“Have you decided, monsieur…mademoiselle?” The maître d’ appeared out of nowhere to take their orders. Clay opened his mouth to reply, but burst out laughing again, eliciting a delicately raised brow and a subtle sneer. “M’excuser. I will return when you are…préparé.”
Nose pointed at the ceiling, the man turned on his heel and pranced away. They both stared after him, then turned to pin each other beneath horrified gazes at precisely the same moment—which brought on another fit of laughter. Finally, Clay picked up his forgotten menu and spoke in a voice still thick with humor. “M’excuser, mademoiselle. Nous devons passer nos commandes probablement. J’ai peur notre maître estimé d considère déjà la retraite première.”
Destiny’s shocked expression was well worth the effort he had put into dredging up his spotty college French.
“What did you say?” A delighted grin spread across her face.
He chuckled, feeling a bit self-conscious. “I think I said we should give the man our orders. We’ve probably already driven him into considering early retirement, as it is.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “You never cease to amaze me. I had no idea you speak French.”
He rolled his eyes. “I don’t. College was a long time ago, and I’m sure I butchered that little speech pretty badly. I’m lucky you don’t speak the language, or you’d almost certainly be laughing me under the table—again.”
“What? I wasn’t laughing at you.” White teeth caught her bottom lip in a delicate pinch obviously meant to tame the upward curve. In the next instant, she lost the battle to a mischievous grin. “Well, yeah, I guess I was. But you laughed too, so I could argue that I was laughing with you. Right?” Without waiting for an answer, she picked up her white linen napkin and spread it across her lap. “What do you recommend…uh, monsieur?”
****
Standing outside her house sometime later, the dim porch light revealed her smile. “I had a wonderful evening, Gallagher. Thank you.”
Clay’s eyes were fixed on her lips. Could they possibly be as soft as they looked? With a monumental effort, he managed to tear his gaze upward, only to find her green eyes every bit as magnetic.
He tugged gently on a loose tendril of hair. “I’m glad, ma jolie dame. Maybe we can do it again?”
Lowering her gaze, she spoke so softly he almost missed it. “I’ll look forward to it, monsieur.” Just when Clay thought he couldn’t resist at least a brush of those inviting lips with his own, Destiny’s spontaneous humor—apparently never far from the surface—prevented him from losing control. Her lips parted in an enchanting smile and she shrugged one shoulder. “I’m afraid that’s all the French I know, and I only learned it tonight.”
Clay chuckled. So now what? Should he just say good night and go? Should he kiss her? Man, I can’t believe how much I want to kiss her. Shake her hand?
He settled for pulling her into a gentle hug, making it possible to drop a feather-light kiss onto her hair. I think I like you far too much, pretty lady. Grinning in the dusky darkness, he decided it was all right to say the words aloud. “Je crois que je vous aime bien trop, la jolie dame.” Stepping back, he took the key from her unresisting fingers and opened the door. With a final touch—the brush of a finger under her chin—he turned and walked away.
He almost reached his car door before she called out, just as he’d hoped she would. “Clay?”
He turned.
“What was it you said?”
He sent her a little grin he hoped was mysterious, raised a hand in farewell, then slid behind the wheel and drove away. A fellow had a right to keep a thing or two to himself.
Destiny's Dream
6
“Let me get this straight.” Jenna pinned her under a freezing stare, and Destiny noticed that her sister’s creamy ivory skin looked even paler than usual. They were hanging out in Mama’s house while the twins played outside. “The CEO of Gallagher Investments takes you to the best French restaurant in town, where you proceed to have a gigglefest.” She covered her mouth with one hand, shaking her head slowly as she drew a deep, haggard breath. “Am I right so far?”
Destiny nodded, her mouth twisted into a guilty grimace. “Pretty much.”
Her sister heaved a frustrated sigh. “You never learn! And you couldn’t stop with that. You decided to offend the maître d’, as well.”
“No, now that’s not right!” Destiny shook a finger under Jenna’s haughty little nose. “I didn’t—”
“Really?” Jenna’s eyes brightened and the hope in her voice tied Destiny’s tummy into tight double knots. “You didn’t offend him?”
She lowered her finger and sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Well, yeah, I’m pretty sure I did, but—” Raising her voice, she continued over her sister’s hopeless groan. “I didn’t decide to do it. It just happened.” Flinching at the censure in Jenna’s gaze, she sighed again and tucked a foot up under her legs on the comfy sofa Mama had refused to part with despite its old, worn out, and just-plain-ugly condition.
“Well, that’s so much better.” Jenna’s voice dripped sarcasm. “Now I won’t have to worry that he’ll know you’re my sister.”
Uh-oh. “You know him?”
“He happens to be one of Bob’s golf buddies, and he’s not just a maître d’, Miss Congeniality. He owns Jaussaud’s—and he fills the position of maître d’ himself in order to maintain personal contact with his customers.” She shrugged one shoulder. “He and his family have been to our home for dinner more than once.”
“Oh!” Maybe Jenna’s distress wasn’t completely overdone, after all. Still, that date with Clay had been Destiny’s first night out in over five years, and she treasured every memorable moment. She couldn’t help a little twinge of annoyance that it was being spoiled by this ridiculous interrogation. “He won’t remember me anyway, Jen. I’m sure he has scads of customers who don’t behave like perfect society darlings.”
Jenna threw herself into a decrepit chair that matched the sofa Destiny lounged in. “You don’t have to be a society darling to behave properly in public. And Luc Jaussaud has a memory like an elephant. Trust me on that.”
Destiny sighed. Why must everything she did turn into a battle of the siblings? “I’m sorry, Jen. But I still don’t understand why you’re so upset. There’s no reason he ever has to know I’m your sister if it’s such an embarrassment. I promise I won’t tell him.” She attempted to lighten the atmosphere with a little chuckle.
“You wouldn’t be an embarrassment if you’d just control these silly urges of yours. Luc will know who you are because he and his wife, along with their six-year-old son, will be at the twins’ birthday party next week. And don’t bother saying you’ll just stay away. You are coming.”
“Of course I’ll be at my nieces’ party—just try to keep me away.” She studied her sister’s delicate features, marred now by the worried crease in her brow. “Look, Jen. I’ll apologize to the man if you want me to, even though I’m not really sorry for having fun on my date with Clay. Gracious me, it’s not like we ate spaghetti with our fingers or anything.”
Jenna tossed her an icy glare, and Destiny took the opportunity to pout her bottom lip and turn on the sad puppy peepers—the same ploy she’d seen the twins use on their mother. Her sister rolled her eyes, but an insistent little quiver of the lips betrayed her, and Destiny pounced on it with a pitiful sniffle. To her immense relief, Jenna burst out laughing.
“Oh, stop it! Fine, I’m not mad, and there’s no need to apologize to Luc. I suppose it’s not a huge deal if he thinks my sister has no class. He’s not the mayor or…heaven forbid, chief of staff at Castle Creek General.” She shuddered at the thought, and her face went another degree whiter.
Watching her, Destiny shook her head. “When did you get to be such a priss, Jen? My goodness, don’t you ever relax?”
“Nope. Can’t right now.” Jenna leaned back in the old chair and stretched her legs out on the ottoman. �
�But I’ve promised myself I’m going to try it someday, after the girls are firmly ensconced in whatever college Bob decides they absolutely must attend.”
It was Destiny’s turn to roll her eyes. Spare her any social status that would require such a rigid, unsatisfying existence.
At that moment, the back door crashed open and the pounding of small feet echoed through the house. In the next instant, identical, dirty little faces appeared in the archway between the living room and kitchen. The twins’ erstwhile pristine outfits bore a good portion of the backyard’s soil content.
“Hi, Auntie Dessie!” Carrie, Destiny thought. “We’re fursty. Can we have a dwink?”
Jenna’s horrified expression soothed Destiny’s smarting spirits. Grinning, she motioned for her sister to remain seated while she got up and hurried across the room to wrap both grimy little bodies in a hug. “Drinks coming right up, you scalawags.” Taking a hand on each side, she tugged them toward the kitchen as they continued to chatter.
“We dugged a hole outside, Auntie.” This one was Cassie, Destiny thought. “We’re gon’ dig all the way…”
“…to China.” The other twin finished her sister’s sentence. Her blonde ponytail bounced in time to the emphatic nod of her head. “That’s a wong ways away, Auntie Dessie.”
“Yes, it certainly is.” Destiny managed to keep from laughing, looking at the two earnest little mugs turned up toward her. She swung each child into a seat at the table and poured two plastic cups full of cold apple juice. “That’s a pretty big job for a couple of little squirts like you, don’t you think?”
“Yeah.” The girls dropped their heads. One of them—Destiny was almost certain it was Cassie—gave a wry twist of her lips and used the back of one hand to brush at her dusty face. “We prolly can’t do it…”
“…all by ar’selfs.” True to form, the other one picked up where her sister left off. “We’re jus’ little.”
“Hmm.” Destiny looked up to see the girls’ mother in the doorway, still wearing that same horror-stricken expression, as her daughters guzzled apple juice from plastic cups clutched in grubby hands. “Sounds like you could use some help.”
“We don’t got nobody to help us.” A perky ponytail swung from side to side when Carrie shook her head. Cassie spread her little hands in an adorable gesture of helpless resignation.
Casting a sly glance toward Jenna, who looked on with thinly veiled disgust, Destiny sauntered across the room to stand beside the back door. “How ‘bout me? I’d love to help you dig to China. May I?”
The girls’ faces glowed as they gawked at her in wide-eyed disbelief. “You, Auntie Dessie?”
“You’ll help us dig?”
Jenna’s jaw dropped in priceless reaction. While her sister gaped, Destiny held the back door open. Both girls downed the last of their juice and dashed to her side. “Come on, little ladybugs—let’s get to it!” Giggling along with her nieces, she ran out the back door, leaving Jenna to stare after them, her lovely face frozen in revulsion.
She decided not to hold her breath waiting for her sister to come play in the dirt.
****
Her second week of business, Destiny saw two first dates result from tentative matches. She took on ten more Seekers. Things looked good, and one day still remained in the week.
“Julie?” No need to raise her voice a lot. Her assistant would be listening.
“Yes?” The young blonde appeared in the office doorway.
“Hold my calls for the next half hour, please.”
The girl smiled, winked, and pointed a finger at Destiny. “You got it, boss. Tell His Highness I said howdy.”
Destiny laughed. “You can talk to God. Tell Him yourself.”
“Yeah, yeah.” To her surprise, the brassy assistant’s cheeks took on a pink glow.
“You should try it sometime, Julie.”
The other girl hiked a brow and backed out of the room.
Destiny sighed and watched the closed door for a moment. What did Julie really think of all the God-stuff at Solomon’s Gate? She breathed a silent prayer for the girl, then picked up a neat stack of papers off her desk and dropped to her knees. The big, comfortable chair had been an extravagance, one she hadn’t regretted for a moment. It served a dual purpose, going from desk chair to altar in two seconds flat.
After completing an in-depth online application, Solomon’s Gate Seekers were required to pass a rigid oral interview. In addition, his or her background check had to meet all the criteria laid out by Destiny and her lawyer. She supposed most reputable dating services enforced similar rules and guidelines, but a couple of things set her new company worlds apart from the others.
Once an applicant became an official Solomon’s Gate member, Destiny printed out his or her application and put it through one more step—a solemn ritual conducted at the end of each day and known only to Julie and herself. With a glance at the clock, which read five fifteen, Destiny began what she considered the most important part of the matchmaking process.
From the top of her desk, she picked up an exquisite glass bottle intricately set with stones of green, gold, and crystal. Carefully removing the crown-like lid from the iridescent bottle, she shook a drop of anointing oil onto her finger and lightly brushed it across the upper right hand corner of each application.
One at a time, Destiny brought each one to the throne of God, asking His help in finding the perfect match for that applicant. If His choice for this person wasn’t already a Solomon’s Gate Seeker, she asked that He open whatever doors were necessary to make the match and to make it successful.
Prayer and care—the two secret components unique to Solomon’s Gate. Destiny cared about every Seeker. If a customer was unsuccessful in finding love within a designated time frame, she intended to refund a sizable portion of that person’s membership fee.
Laying the first application on the seat of the chair, she bowed her head and talked to the Lover of her soul. “Precious Father, it’s me again. I’m here to thank You, first of all, for caring about the things that are important to Your people. I also want to ask your blessing on Karyn Peters. Karyn is seeking a godly husband, Lord—one who serves You and will be a strong spiritual head of their home. I believe You created someone especially for this beautiful girl, and I’m believing You will bring them together through Solomon’s Gate. I pray your safety over this precious young woman as she seeks the one her soul loves. Ultimately, it’s up to You and will be done only in Your perfect timing, but I offer myself to be Your hands, Your feet, and Your voice—whatever earthly tool You can use to bring Karyn together with the one her soul loves, even though she doesn’t know him yet. I ask it in the name of Your precious Son, Jesus Christ. Amen.”
She turned that application face down atop her desk and reached for the next. Scanning the name printed in neat block letters, she smiled, remembering the nervous widower gentleman to whom it belonged. The smile stayed in place as she hugged the application to her heart and prayed for Preston Crane.
Just over half an hour later, she reached for the last application. This one bore Julie’s handwriting in the margins, indicating that her assistant had conducted the initial interview. Destiny hadn’t met the applicant and could not envision a face. But God knew this Seeker, and that’s what mattered.
Her eyes scanned the familiar form to find a name. When she did, she gasped, then chuckled. It was a common enough surname. Probably no connection whatsoever. Dismissing a vague sense of foreboding, she bowed her head and took the last applicant of the day to her Father.
“God, I don’t know Claire Gallagher, but You do….”
Destiny's Dream
7
Clay sneaked a glance at Destiny as they strolled up the sidewalk toward the stately old home where he and his brother spent their childhood. Pansies and petunias lined the walkway, and jasmine scented the air from the mass of green vines banked under each of two front windows. He couldn’t believe himself, taking a woma
n to meet his mother after only one real date. He must have it bad—even worse than he’d thought.
“What are you grinning at?” Destiny tugged lightly on his arm, her emerald gaze bright with curiosity above that straight little nose and those curvalicious lips.
“Nothing.”
One shapely brow shot high. “Oh, really? You just always walk around with that goofy smirk on your face?”
He couldn’t help chuckling. “Maybe I do. What’s your point?”
Her lips twisted in the most appealing show of sarcasm he’d ever beheld. “You’re a strange one, Gallagher.”
“Thank you.” He rapped on the door a couple of times, then touched a finger to the tip of her nose. “Ready for this?”
“Sure.” She didn’t seem a bit nervous, but then, why should she be? It wasn’t like he was bringing a future bride for his mother’s approval. So far, he and Destiny were just friends—with a great big dose of attraction. At least, the attraction was there on his part. He sure hoped it went both ways.
The door swung open. His mother greeted them with a wide smile, her silver-gray eyes shining, every strand of matching silver hair in place. “You’re here, dear. Come in, come in!” Clay watched her bright gaze move from him to Destiny. She reached for the younger woman’s hand and urged her into the house while Clay bit back a grin. His mom’s sharp gaze had taken Destiny in from head to toe in about three seconds.
“Oh, my, you’re lovely, aren’t you? Why have you kept this one hidden away, son?”
Destiny’s cheeks pinkened, and her low laughter flowed through the room, brightening and warming its cool, pristine appearance.
Mesmerized, Clay found himself unable to tear his gaze off her face.
“Clay!” His mother raised a slightly plump hand to snap her fingers in his face. “Where are you, son?”
A wave of heat rose from his neck. “My mind was somewhere else.”
