She waved and backed out.
Lord, protect her. Because if anything bad happens, I'll never be able to forgive myself.
* * * *
Heather stepped from her classic car and ran a hand over the back of her dress. Hopefully the tight fitting silk material wasn't too much for a casual dinner. She hadn't had a reason to doll up in so long she may have over done it a bit.
The windows of the Italian restaurant were tinted and the front door decorated with stained glass, making the front seem ominous. On the other side, she hoped the man of her dreams waited. She walked through the entranceway and glanced around. She suddenly realized she had no idea what this guy looked like. That would have been a good question to ask. She frowned.
"Can I help you?” the hostess asked, smiling.
Heather peered around the dimly lit room again. The red-checkered tables held drippy candles and the smell of garlic hung heavy in the air. Several people conversed over plates of pasta, none appearing alone. “Yes, I'm supposed to meet someone named Thomas."
She smiled. “Certainly. This way."
Heather followed her, relieved that not only had the hostess expected her, but also that Thomas had arrived first. Heather had secretly feared waiting all night and him never showing. At least this way, she knew he was here.
A man with reddish-blond hair slid out of the booth and stuck out his hand. “Good evening. You must be Heather. I'm, of course, Tom."
She nodded and shook his hand.
He motioned for her to sit.
She slid into the booth and the hostess eyed her. “Can I get you anything to drink?"
"Root beer, please,” Heather said. She waited for the waitress to leave before looking at him. “Have you been waiting long?"
He shook his head. “I just tend to get everywhere early. Force of habit."
"Oh good."
"I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty of ordering stuffed mushrooms as an appetizer.” He handed out a menu. “They're my favorite."
"No, that's great.” She took the red folder and flipped it open, grateful to duck behind it. Why was she so nervous? He seemed nice enough. Maybe not as cute as she would have hoped for, but not bad looking either. His hair thinned a little at the temples, but not enough that one would call him balding. He had light blue eyes, pale eyebrows and lashes which were even paler than his hair, and wore a simple, green polo shirt and Dockers.
The waitress returned with the soda in a large red tumbler. “Are you ready to order?"
Heather reluctantly lowered her fortress and handed it back to her. “I'll have the combination spaghetti with the marinara sauce and the Mizithra cheese."
"And your dressing?"
"The vinaigrette."
The waitress wrote the order down and shifted her attention to Thomas.
"I'll have the garlic pasta with the spicy Italian sausage."
"Your dressing?"
He rubbed his chin. “Vinaigrette sounds good; I'll have that, too."
The waitress nodded, took his menu and left them alone.
Heather shifted in the red vinyl booth, the squeaking sound making her all that more uncomfortable.
"With it being Thanksgiving, we didn't get a chance to talk much on the phone,” he said.
"Yeah.” She had never been great at small talk. Just remember the three E's: Employment, Education, Entertainment. “So, Tom, what do you do for a living?"
"I'm in real estate development.” He flapped a cloth napkin in his lap and smiled. “I build commercial buildings all over Southern California, including this restaurant."
"Really?"
"Yes, I also buy old homes and fix them up."
"Wow, you built this rest..."
He cut her off. “Yes, and most of the buildings on this street. I always figured I'd be a millionaire before I'm thirty and I'm almost there. Just a few more properties and I'll be set for life."
"Sounds like a good goal."
"It is. Property is the way to go. You want to be ready for your future, because it will sneak up on you if you're not careful. The way to go is to invest in real estate.” He folded his hands and rested his elbows on the table. “Do you own your own home or do you rent?"
"I'm in an apartment."
"Oh, no, my dear. I can help you. An apartment is just a well, sucking your money into the ground. You need a garden.” His hands swung wide and she jumped back to avoid his flying palm. “There is a whole world of investment out there.” He clenched his fist in front of her. “You just have to take hold of it and get you some."
She nodded with a tight smile. “Sure. I understand. Get me some. Right."
He slapped his chest. “I'm a self-made man, just like your ad asked for."
Did my ad say that? I don't think I said that.
"I can tell you're a girl who goes out and gets what she wants. Right?"
She bit her lip. “Um, actually, no, that's the farthest thing from the truth. I struggle with that."
"Really?” He lifted a breadstick and broke it in half. “I'm usually an amazing judge of character. It's why I can tell when it is time to purchase a certain piece of land. It calls out to me."
"Interesting,” she said dryly, not connecting the two things together.
"Yes. Have you seen those new homes on Ocean View Boulevard?"
She shook her head.
"I built that entire track.” He puffed his chest out. “They've been selling like crazy. One of the new tenants said they're the prettiest houses in all of Point Loma. You really have to see them."
"Yeah, I'll have to look for them,” Heather said half-heartedly.
By the time the waitress brought the food, Heather was ready for the check. She tuned him out five or so topics ago. Though they couldn't really be classified as topics, per say. They were more like shifts as they all pertained to real-estate development.
"There was this big building on first and they were all ready to tear it down. I came in with my big checkbook and stopped the wrecking ball.” Thomas tossed his napkin on the table. “You should have seen their faces. It was like Christmas for me."
Maybe she shouldn't have put “likes to talk” in her ad. She'd have to remember that next time. Did he ask one thing about her? If he did, she didn't remember answering. He barely had time to eat, and sadly even when he was chewing, he still didn't stop talking. She learned enough about building codes, foundations, blue-prints, and contractors to last her a lifetime, and then some. And she still hadn't covered the other two E's.
The waitress finally returned and took their plates. “Would you like dessert?"
Heather shook her head.
"Yes,” Thomas said at the same time. He looked at Heather. “Oh come on. It's early. You have to stay for dessert. They have the best cannolis in San Diego."
No, I don't think so. She fumbled to her right in search of her purse. “I'd love to, but I have a big day at work tomorrow and really need to get home. Besides, a stomach full of sugar would keep me up all night."
"Um, I'll check back with you in a minute,” the waitress said before retreating.
"Well, I had wonderful time. Can I see you again?” he asked.
Heather's stomach flipped. She hated that question. How did she answer him in a way that wouldn't hurt him, but wouldn't help his cause either? “You know, the point of dating is to get to know one another and see if we're compatible. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Of course."
"You obviously want a woman who is a go-getter.” She clenched her fist on the table like he had so many times that night. So annoying. “I'm afraid I'm not your girl. Even going on this date was extremely painful...” She cleared her throat. “I mean, hard for me to do.” She slid out of the booth and adjusted her hemline.
"I see."
She offered a forced grin. “Thank you for the nice meal and company though."
He pulled a card from inside his jacket and handed it out. “If you change your mind, here's my numbe
r."
She took the card, stuffed it in her purse and stepped back. “Well, if I ever need any construction advice, I know who to call."
He laughed. “That's right or if you're ready to buy."
She nodded and started backing up.
"Good night, Heather."
She waved and rushed out into the parking lot. Once outside, she exhaled. She suddenly remembered why she had stopped dating. She hated this side of things. What she wanted was a friend. Maybe she'd rethink how she worded her next ad. If there is a next ad.
* * * *
Daniel knocked on the door a few minutes after Heather got home. “So, how did it go?"
She rolled her eyes.
"That bad?"
"And then some.” She kicked her red pumps in the corner of the room and flopped to the couch. “All he did was talk about himself for over an hour. I don't even think he knows what I do for a living."
Daniel sat next to her on the couch and reached for the remote. “I'm sorry."
"Yeah, me, too."
"But you'll try again?"
She sighed. “I suppose."
He flipped on the TV and kicked back.
She leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed. The dating thing was mentally draining. “Why can't I find a guy like you?"
"Because God broke the mold with me.” He laughed, surfing through the channels.
"Yeah, that may be a good thing."
"Besides, I wouldn't ever set you up with a guy like me."
She lifted her head and faced him. “Why not?"
"Because we're total opposites."
"No we're not. We do everything together. You're my best friend."
He turned down the volume and pivoted toward her, resting his arm on the back of the couch. “I like jazz, you like alternative."
"And we always listen to retro. So?"
"Okay...” He peered up for a second, and then snapped. “I love football and you hate it."
"But I watch the games with you.” She pointed at him, then back at herself, and smiled a cheesy grin. “I'm a good friend."
"Yes, but you shouldn't have to settle like that when you're looking for Mr. Right. You need someone much better than me."
She wrinkled her forehead. “You're nuts, you know that? I'd be extremely happy if I found a guy I could get along with half as well as I do with you. Sports and music are not good reasons to not date."
He fingered one of her curls and smiled. “Spicy food versus your baby tongue."
"We make all the food mild and you add red peppers. Big deal."
"Yes, but Claudia likes it as hot as I do. So we can go to a Thai restaurant."
She pouted. “So, you're saying you wouldn't go for a girl like me for that reason."
"I'm just saying you have to find someone you're compatible with. You'll find the perfect guy, and I doubt he'll be anything like me.” He scooted closer to her, a spicy scent rising to her nose. “But I better like him or else."
"Well, you would have hated Thomas. Way to into himself. We didn't even get past the first E.” She snatched the remote from Daniel and started flipping through the channels. “By the way, why are you home? I thought you were going out with Claudia tonight."
"We did, but Claudia had something she had to do at a family member's house, so I came home early.” He tried to take the remote back from her, but she shook him off. “Well, let's find a movie. I need to unwind."
He settled back, but she could feel his eyes on her.
"What?"
"I'm just curious. Are you going to try the date thing again?"
She sighed. “I have no choice. I need to be ‘taken’ by Christmas."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Four
"Hey, Heather.” Her friend, Noelle, stood in the cubicle next to her, smiling.
"Noelle? When did you get back from maternity leave?” Heather jumped up and gave her hug.
"Ten minutes ago."
Heather perused her friend's body. Noelle's once swollen torso now looked trim. Her once long hair now cut in a very “mom” wedge. Her face positively glowing. “So, where is little Courtney?"
"At my mother-in-law's house. I'm only working half-days now."
"And how was the whole birth experience, or do I not want to know?"
She smiled. “Not as bad as people make it out to be. But, of course, I had it lucky. Five pushes and the little girl was lying in my arms."
"Wow.” Not that Heather had any idea if that was good or not. “Well, I'm just so glad you're back.” Heather squeezed her around the waist in a side hug. “It got super quiet here with you gone. I became like a big loner."
"I'm not surprised. The rest of the team isn't the most social.” Noelle kicked her purse under her desk and sat in the swivel chair. “So, get this. The boss has me working on obituaries now."
"You're kidding?” Heather sat in her own chair and leaned over the cubicle. “What happened to reporting on weddings and high society?"
"Gave it to that new girl, Rhonda Anderson, while I was gone."
Heather frowned. “Sorry."
She batted at the air. “I'm only part-time now. I guess death is happening less than the good stuff. That's great, right?"
"Yeah, I guess."
Noelle rested her elbows on the desk and leaned forward. “So, how's the man situation going? Are you dating that Daniel guy yet?"
"What? No!” Heather laughed. “You know he and I are just friends."
"Whatever."
"Seriously. Besides, on Thanksgiving, I met the girl he's planning to marry. She's really nice."
Noelle reclined back and crossed her arms. “Hmm. Didn't see that coming."
Yeah, you and me both. Heather glanced back at her computer screen. Two emails had dropped in from printing. “I'd better get back to it. The boss will be down any minute."
"You want to do lunch?"
Heather grinned. “I'd love to."
"Cool. I want Chinese. I couldn't eat it while I was pregnant and now I want it all the time.” Noelle faced her computer screen and turned it on.
"Chinese it is.” Heather's phone rang several times over the next hour, each with new ads for tomorrow's paper. She wrote them down and turned to check her email.
Mr. Sage walked next to her. “Here is the first set of proofs.” He handed her a manila folder. “I need them ready in an hour. Is that possible? Things were moving a bit slow this morning."
"No problem."
He nodded and walked to the next cubicle to welcome Noelle back.
Heather took the sheets and spread them out on her desk. Her eyes fell to hers in the middle:
Single white female, 29, seeks single white male, 25-35, for possible romance. This fun, outgoing person likes going to movies, grabbing some good food, and listening to alternative music. Seeking companion who is easy going, wants to get to know me, and doesn't mind turning off the football game.
Heather smiled. Here I go again.
* * * *
Daniel opened the door to his truck and allowed Claudia to climb in. She looked gorgeous in a slim-line black dress and her hair curled down her back.
"Where are we going for dinner?” she asked as soon as he climbed in.
He winked and started the engine.
"You're impossible."
"Hey, didn't your family ever surprise you when you were growing up?"
She laughed. “No. I was a kid who got under the Christmas tree and shook everything. Even unwrapped a few gifts sometimes. One year I got caught sneaking a peek in my mom's closet. Found the most amazing things, including this one doll I really wanted. I had been begging for it for months, and would you believe the woman took everything back?"
He glanced at her. “You're kidding?"
"Nope, I wish I was. She's crazy like that sometimes.” Claudia leaned her elbow on the truck door and stared out into traffic. “It's a beautiful night."
"It sure is.” Daniel star
ed back at the road, his heart rapidly pulsing in his chest. The diamond ring in his pocket seemed to burn his leg and sweat probably stained his silk shirt. He hoped he could do this. Why am I so nervous? She loves me, I love her. This is just a formality, right? She'll say yes and we'll live happily-ever-after.
He drove into the restaurant parking lot and frowned. It was really full, so it took a few rounds before he could finally park.
Claudia leaned over to read the sign. “I've never been here before, but I hear they have the best prime rib in San Diego."
He smiled and walked around to let her out.
"Did you get a raise?” she asked.
"No, I wish. They're cutting people from the line right now. At this point, I'm lucky to be employed.” He escorted her inside where they were greeted by the smell of melted butter and charbroiled steak wafting through the air. Tall, fabric-covered booths sat around the dim room. Light jazz music played in the background. A hostess led them to a table toward the back of the room and took their drink order.
"Your waiter will be right with you."
Daniel nodded and then lifted a finger up to Claudia. “I'll be back in one second."
"Sure.” She smiled and focused on the enormous velvet menu.
Daniel walked back to the front of the restaurant and flagged down the hostess. “Hi, I wondered if you could do something for me tonight."
"How can I help?"
He reached in his pocket, palmed the black box and handed it out.
The hostess beamed. “How exciting. Would you like it in a slice of our house cheesecake?"
"That sounds perfect."
She took the box off his hand. “I'll just let my manager know."
"My life is in your hands.” A nervous cackle came out his mouth.
"No worries, I promise."
Though he was nervous, he knew he'd have to accept her word. He walked back to the booth and hopefully to his future.
"Everything okay?” she asked.
"Yeah, of course.” He sat down, opened the menu and stared at the different entrees. Since he had absolutely no appetite, he had no idea what to order. He gave up and lowered the menu. “What are you getting?"
"Prime rib."
He set the menu on top of hers and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good."
Wanted: Boyfriend for Christmas Page 3
