by Shirley Jump
“Your grandma thought it would be a great idea to turn these matches into a media event, and combine it with the week’s Spring Fling activities.” Mildred grinned. “We’ve already got all kinds of local businesses on board for the Spring Fling. All we need to do is twist things up a little. It’ll be a town-wide dating extravaganza.”
“A town-wide dating extravaganza?” All of a sudden this Love Lottery thing was exploding, getting out of control and becoming a much bigger project than she’d expected. Worse, Sophie was caught in the center of the storm. With Harlan Jones. “I don’t see how that’s going to raise money for the center.”
“We’ll have the annual dance, and charge a small admission fee. Host a bake sale, and raise a few dollars that way. Oh! I know. A carnival. Everyone loves a carnival.”
“A carnival? How are we going to pull that off?”
Mildred waved off the concerns. “Don’t you worry. Leave all the arrangements to me, and you do the publicity.”
Publicity? That meant even more media presence. This was the kind of thing that could bring in outside papers…a good thing for raising money, but Sophie’s worst nightmare. “But—”
“We need to raise money fast, right? And these events will do that.” Mildred wagged a finger at Sophie. “Every penny counts, you know.”
“I know, but—”
“But this will be fabulous and it’s such a unique idea, we’re bound to get lots of out-of-towners and lookie-lous coming by to take a peek,” Mildred said, interrupting Sophie again. “Bringing their wallets with them, I might add. So, we were thinking that during something like the lunch picnic on Tuesday, we could…”
Sophie had stopped listening. Her gaze had gone across the room to where her “intended,” Harlan Jones, waited. Three other women were hanging around his table, and he was grinning, lapping up all the attention. The man gave self-centered a whole new definition.
Mildred’s words trickled through the fog in Sophie’s brain. “The couples can share some sandwiches on Tuesday, go to the carnival together on Thursday and then that weekend, we’ll top it all off with the annual dance in the park,” Mildred went on. “It’ll be a week of romance. We’ll have to find a way to publicize it, of course. But that’s where you come in. You’re the queen of publicity.”
“A…a week?” Sophie jerked her attention back to Mildred. Spend a week with Harlan Jones? Acting like they were a happy couple? “As in seven days?”
“Well, you can’t expect to fall in love in the space of time it takes to sip one of those something-ccino things you drink, do you?” Mildred raised a gray brow. “Who knows. Maybe Edgerton Shores will become the wedding capital of Florida after this. Which you, my dear, will never know if you don’t spend some time with your match.” She gestured toward Harlan.
“But I—”
“Agreed, as did all the participants, to at least give it one date. Well, I know you didn’t technically, but really, how will it look if the chair of the event refuses to participate? That would sure get tongues wagging, and I know you don’t want that.”
Definitely not. Sophie didn’t want to be the center of all that negative attention again, which was why she couldn’t understand the logic behind Mildred’s match. Sophie, attention avoider, paired with the biggest mouth in radio? The reporter from the local paper glanced over at her, a question on his face. Mildred was right. If the head of the event didn’t participate, it would get tongues wagging.
Sophie was all for publicity—if it was for the causes she believed in or for her fledgling business. Just not her dating life.
Mildred waved at Sophie. “So shoo, shoo. And go see what that handsome cowboy has to offer this pretty young filly.” Then she headed back to Art, waving a cookie his way. “Art! Oh, Art! Look what I got for you!”
Leaving Sophie with no choice but to accept what fate—or Mildred Meyers—had meted out to her. One annoying cowboy who was grinning at her as if he thought this whole thing was one hilarious joke.
Sophie Watson looked madder than a puppy who’d lost his bone. Harlan chuckled at the glare on her face. She was sitting across from him, her back to the rest of the room, probably so everyone would think it was all happiness and tea between them.
“Why are you here?” she said.
He held up his teacup. “Just collecting on my rent payment. Don’t want you to fall behind and owe me a late fee.” He gave her a grin.
“I meant here, at the matchmaking event. Why on earth did you fill out an application? Don’t you have enough people fawning over you already?”
“Three reasons,” he said. “Because Miss Meyers wrangled me into it. Because I like to support the local economy. And—” he lifted his mug “—because I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to have some more of your tea.”
“I could send you home with several tea bags and you could brew at home. Then you wouldn’t have to worry about being here every day.”
“Ah, but Miss Watson, it is so much more fun to sit here and enjoy your companionship.” He raised his hat toward her, then returned it to his head. “Speaking of which, I’m feeling mighty parched right now. Would you be a good neighbor and chair renter and—”
“Fine.” She scowled. “One Earl Grey coming up.”
“And three of those bis-yummy things.”
“That would require a renegotiation in our terms. I believe we settled on one cup of tea. I only threw in the biscotti because I was being a nice person the other day.”
He feigned a pout. “Tea just ain’t the same without them. It’s like riding bareback on a horse with no hair.”
She tried to hold back her laughter, then let out the chuckle anyway. He liked the sound of her laughter—light and airy, like a spring breeze. For that moment, he forgot the responsibilities waiting for him at the radio station, the long To Do list before him, the constant worries about his brother. He felt as light as her laughter sounded.
“And may I assume you have done that, Mr. Jones?” she said.
“No, ma’am. We don’t have any bald horses in Texas. But I imagine it’s the same as trying to drink my tea without those delicious cookies of yours.”
She considered him for a second. “Two footstools, then.”
“Excuse me?”
“You want biscotti with every cup of tea, and I need two footstools so people can rest their dogs, as Lulu would say, when they come by. You make me my footstools and you can have your cookies.”
“I’m a busy man, Miss Watson. I don’t have time to be building—”
“And I’m a businesswoman who likes to make a profit, Mr. Jones. Which means I don’t give out my cookies for free.” She rose and stood there, one foot turned toward the counter, waiting for him to lob the tennis ball back.
He glanced down at the notepad before him, filled with notes and tasks he needed to accomplish. “I don’t have time to build—”
“Then set those breeding chairs to work.” She winked. “I’m sure they could produce a set of stepstool twins.”
“That they might.” He chuckled. Damn, that woman had a way of convincing him to do the very things he didn’t want to do. His stomach let out a growl. The part of him that missed furniture building—something he’d had no time for the last few days—said there had to be a few hours left in his busy day to build those pieces for Sophie, if only to get her to smile at him again. In the process, maybe he’d relieve a little of the constant pressure that seemed to linger in his neck every day he sat behind Tobias’s desk at WFFM. “Any chance I can get a prepayment?”
“Are you a man of your word?”
“I may be a lot of things that aren’t all that good, Miss Watson, but the one thing I am is a man of my word. I say I’m going to do something and I do it. You can depend on me.”
“I don’t depend on anybody. But I do know where you live, and if you eat my cookies without making my footstools, I’ll be by to collect on the debt.”
He grinned. “I’m counting on tha
t.” Then he met her gaze. “And I’m counting on you coming right back here to eat those cookies with me.”
“I have a business to run—”
“Excuses, excuses.” He waved off her words. “If I heard right, you’re my perfect match.” Harlan leaned back in his chair and eyed Sophie Watson. “And that means you owe me one date. Right here, right now.”
A moment later, she returned, with a plate of biscotti, and a coffee for herself. She sat down across from him. “So, what do you want to do on our ‘date’?”
He could think of a hundred things he wanted to do with a gorgeous woman like her, but none that would be a good idea. “Talk.”
She arched a brow. “Talk?”
He reached for a biscotti. “I hear lots of people do that on their first dates. It’s all the rage.”
She chuckled, then laughed, and he could see her softening, bit by bit. “Okay, so talk.”
He waved the cookie at her. “You first. Why coffee?”
“I like…community,” she said after a moment. “And nothing brings a community together like a place to eat and talk.”
He grinned. “There’s that talking thing again. Seems everyone’s doing it.”
“Especially you, Mr. Radio Host.”
“I do my fair share. Seems I got the gift of gab, so I might as well get paid for it.” He chuckled.
She sat back in her chair and smiled at him. It was the kind of smile that socked a man in his gut and made him wonder what it’d be like to see her smile like that again. And again. “Well, what do you know? We have something in common.”
“We do indeed,” he said, trying his damnedest to get his focus back on work, and not on the sweet way her lips curved across her face. “It’s nice to meet someone else working a job they love.”
“Even if the workload is pretty darn big.”
He tipped his tea in her direction, and waited until she clinked with him. “Even if.”
“And we have to have similar personality traits to work in our jobs. You have to be personable and know what people want. In your case, what they want to hear. And in my case, what they want to eat.”
He took a bite of biscotti, chewed and swallowed. Those darn cookies were about his favorite food right now. “Would you look at that. We’re developing a whole list of things in common.”
She laughed. “I wouldn’t call it a list but it’s a start.”
“A start works for me,” he said softly, then recovered his wits from somewhere around his boots. “For this one date and all.”
“Oh, didn’t you hear? We’re not going on one date. We’re spending a whole week together. The committee decided that the Love Lottery is going to last all week, and culminate with the Spring Fling.” She gave him another smile, one that he couldn’t read. “So I hope that list gets longer, Harlan Jones, because we’re going to be spending a lot of time together.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“SHE’S a real spitfire, I’ll tell you that,” Harlan said into the microphone. He eased back into the soft, worn leather desk chair, glanced at the clock on the far wall and mentally noted the time remaining in his show. “Don’t think I’ve ever had a date with an unbroken filly like that.”
His caller—a truck driver named Stan—chuckled. “Sounds like the perfect woman for you, Harlan.”
“Nope. I like my women sweet and agreeable,” Harlan said. “Like good cooking.”
Stan chuckled again. “You and me, man, you and me.”
Harlan thanked Stan for calling, then pressed the button to get his next caller on the line. A computer screen popped up to give him the name of the caller and a few words that gave Harlan a preview of what the caller wanted to talk about on air. Carl, who handled the phone calls and kept time for Harlan, held up two fingers, giving him the twominute warning. Harlan nodded, then leaned toward the mike. “Welcome to Horsin’ Around with Harlan, Peter. What’s your opinion on this town-wide dating thing?”
“It’s a good thing, Harlan. You gotta settle down sometime, might as well be with a local girl.”
“You looking to get hitched, Peter?” Harlan sure wasn’t settling down anytime soon. He had enough on his plate without adding a wife. Still, there were times when he got mighty tired of talking to his dogs and faceless fans. A real person, a soft, sweet woman, now that—
Harlan cut off the thoughts and focused on his caller. Back to work.
Except a part of him was back in that coffee shop, enjoying his conversation with Sophie Watson. Well, enjoying it until the whole date went to hell in a handbasket. And now, he had a whole week of dates with Sophie ahead of him.
He was going to have to hold on to the reins, because he had a feeling it was going to be a bumpy ride.
“I’m already married, Harlan,” Peter said. “But I think you should reconsider. I’ve seen Sophie Watson. A man could do worse.”
“Well, this cowboy sure ain’t getting yoked to that woman. She’d make my life a living hell. That first date, if that’s what you can even call it, gave calamity a whole new meaning. Y’all heard about it. Why, I’m lucky I didn’t end up boiled and baked at the end.”
Peter chuckled. “If you ask me, it sounds like she likes you. Women only get that mad when they have feelings for a fellow.”
“I don’t know, Peter. I’d say the only feeling Sophie has for me is loathing.”
Harlan glanced at the clock, then cued up the closing advertisements. “Anyway, folks, that’s all the time I have today. Join me tomorrow for more of my dating disasters. Because if it’s me out with Sophie Watson, disaster’s sure to follow.”
He signed off, then switched WFFM over to the preprogrammed music that would follow for the next few hours, until the afternoon DJ came in. He thanked Carl for another great show, then headed down to Tobias’s office. It was a small room, cramped by a desk, chair and file cabinets, but it had Tobias’s spirit all over it. In the mounted marlin on the wall, the photos of him fishing with friends, the sailboat models tucked on the window frame. Tobias had lived a fun life, something Harlan was glad to see, even if sometimes he wished he’d had some of those same opportunities.
Harlan powered up his brother’s computer, and opened the station’s accounting program. Things were improving, but not nearly fast enough for Harlan’s liking. He needed to ramp up advertising dollars, and fast.
He would not let his brother down. Not now. Not ever.
Not again.
He sat back in his chair, tapping a pen on his chin. At his feet, the dogs snored lightly. He could have left them home, of course, but in the last few years, the retrievers had become his constant companions. It was pretty much the only successful relationship he had going, which said a hell of a lot about his life. Things he didn’t want to think about or hear, not right now.
The sales manager strode past Harlan’s office. “Hey, Joe, you got a second?”
“Sure.” Joe Lincoln came inside the office and settled his lanky frame into one of the two visitor chairs. Joe probably only weighed a hundred and fifty soaking wet, but he had more energy than ten men his age. Tobias had done right in hiring him. “What’s up?”
“I was thinking, since this dating thing is getting a lot of play on the show—”
“That’s because it’s hilarious. People love hearing about it. I was laughing my head off this morning. When you were talking about what happened in the coffee shop last night…” Joe chuckled. “Man, you are a brave man to go out with Sophie Watson.”
“She’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad? You made her sound like the devil in high heels.” Joe shook his head. “I feel for you, man. And I’m glad I’m not you.”
Had he really made Sophie sound that horrible? Sometimes Harlan’s mouth ran away from him and his search for a joke went too far. Either way, the show was over for today. Time to focus on other things.
“I was thinking we should take advantage of the Love Lottery with our advertiser,” Harlan said.
“How so?”
“Well, so far, we’ve only targeted the local businesses that are participating. What if we expanded our reach, contacted some of the national dating websites, to see if they wanted to advertise during that hour?”
Joe considered the idea. “Sounds great. I’ll get right on it.”
“Good. And tell them I’ve booked Dr. Ernie Watson for several segments and a couple of live feeds from the Spring Fling events this week.”
“The Love Doctor?” Joe arched a brow. “Now there’s a coup.”
Harlan grinned. “He owes me a favor or ten.”
“Really?”
Ernie might be famous as the country’s Love Doctor, but to Harlan he would always be just Ernie, the same guy he’d known when they were growing up in a small southern Dallas neighborhood. Ernie had gone on to get his degree in psychology while Harlan opted for communications. Ernie made it big when his book on finding the love of your life hit the bestseller lists. He’d become an in-demand radio and TV guest, but he always made time for his old buddy Harlan. Harlan returned the favoring by giving Ernie’s books and appearances lots of publicity. They still got together on a regular basis to toss back a beer and talk about the old days.
“We go way back. I helped him disentangle himself from a particularly messy relationship a couple years back.” Harlan chuckled. “Seems even the love doc needs a different prescription every once in a while.”
Joe paused by the door. “Well, it’ll be interesting, to say the least.”
“What will be?”
“Hearing what the Love Doctor thinks about your dating adventures. Who knows, he might even say that Sophie Watson is good for you.”
Lulu’s face, all scrunched up like a puckered lemon, told Sophie she had news to share. And it wasn’t good. “Did you listen to the radio today?”
Sophie’s stomach plummeted. “He didn’t.”
When she’d sat down for coffee with Harlan Jones yesterday after Mildred’s matchmaking stunt, she’d felt compelled to make the best of the moment, if only because half the town was watching her, along with the local reporter, and she was in her own shop. It wouldn’t do to throw a hissy fit and stomp out in the middle—and it would only bring on a news story she didn’t want to read. So Sophie had grabbed a latte and a cup of tea, and plopped herself across from Harlan Jones.
