by Peggy Jaeger
That small space separating our bodies? Yeah, it was pretty much obliterated as we each inched in closer.
Frayne dipped his head while I lifted up on my still curling toes, our mouths a fraction from coming together. My brain was silently high-fiving what was about to happen, when the spell was broken by the scream of my front door bell.
Frayne startled, frowned, and murmured, “Not again,” while I dropped back down, flatfooted.
“That’s my ride,” I said, regret drenching me.
He dropped his hand and then folded both of them into his pants pockets, a look of annoyance mixed with disappointment scowling his face.
“Hey, you look nice.” Olivia smiled when I opened the door. She gave me a complete head-to-toe eye rake. “You all ready for this?”
She’d offered to drive me to the event when she’d convinced me to attend, to free me up to have a glass of wine or a cocktail if I wanted one.
After a quick hug, her gaze drifted past my shoulder to spy Frayne. I couldn’t quite tell if her concentrated wide-eyed perusal was professional interest or feminine intrigue.
I made the introductions, annoyed when Olivia’s hand stayed in his a beat more than I thought it should have. I explained, briefly, why Frayne was in town.
When I excused myself to get my coat from the hall closet, I heard her ask, “Is your wife with you while you’re conducting your research?”
“No,” he answered. I waited a heartbeat to see if he’d elaborate.
He didn’t.
Olivia’s face was calm, her professional smile in place when I returned.
“I don’t know how long this will be,” I told Frayne while I shrugged into my warm coat. Before I could get one arm into a sleeve, he was behind me, assisting me. A noise remarkably like a purr whirred from Olivia.
My cheeks burned. “But you can stay and continue working if you want. Lock up when you leave, though, okay? Since I don’t have George anymore, I’m a little more diligent about not leaving the house open than I used to be.”
He nodded, flicked a glance at Olivia, and then back at me. I got the distinct impression he wanted to say something, but didn’t, because of her presence.
“I’ll remember.”
“It was lovely meeting you,” Olivia told him as she slipped her leather gloves back on. “Enjoy your…research.”
Just as I belted myself into her warm car, she said, “Well, I never expected to find a man at your place. And such an adorable one, at that.”
“His research is intense.”
Honestly, could I sound any more lame?
“Intense, is it?” She cocked her head in my direction, a knowing smile on her perfectly plump lips.
I hummed a response, praying she’d let it go. I was in no mood to be interrogated. I was due to be cross-examined enough in the morning by Nanny. From a family member, I would accept it. Not so much from a fringe friend like Olivia.
A seductive chuckle filled the front of the car. “Okay. I can see why you’re such a good lawyer. Since you’re not gonna indulge my curiosity, let me give you a little rundown on what you can expect tonight.”
Chapter 12
The lights were still on inside the house when Olivia dropped me back home three hours later.
“I don’t want you to be discouraged, Cathy,” Olivia said as I unbuckled my seatbelt. “This was just your first event.”
And if I had anything to say about it, it was my last.
“Tonight was a mish-mash of personality types and age groups. I invited you so you could get a feel for what’s involved in the process. I didn’t expect you to meet or connect with anyone. We need to get together privately so I can figure out the type of man you’re interested in. Then, I can set up something in the future more to your taste level.”
My taste level? Good Lord. If tonight was any indication, there were no men out there who even came close to an appetizer much less a main course.
“Liv, I don’t know if I’m ready for this. I’m busy with the practice, handling Nanny’s affairs.” I swiped my gloved hand in the air. “I’m not sure I have the energy to be involved at the moment.”
She smiled and nodded. “Going out to dinner or a movie with a nice guy doesn’t mean you have to sign a marriage contract, Cath. According to Fiona, all you do is work.”
“Well, yeah. Because I’m busy.”
Duh.
“I get that. But you can take a break every now and again, you know. Just think about it,” she added when I opened my mouth again, ready to protest.
Resigned, I nodded.
“I’ll call you in a few days, and we can grab some lunch, okay?”
“Sure,” I said.
The house was lit and warm when I walked through the front door. I thought Frayne had left the lights on so I wouldn’t come home to a dark, empty house. The moment I closed the door behind me, I realized I was wrong, because the house wasn’t empty at all.
Mac Frayne was seated at my dining room table, a laptop opened in front of him.
“You’re still here.”
Why that blue-eyed and befuddled stare meeting me through those thick lenses was such a turn on was a mystery I didn’t think I’d ever solve, but the moment his dazed gaze zeroed in on me and then cleared, his eyes widening, then narrowing, my legs got a little wobbly and my pulse jumped.
He tugged the glasses off and tossed them onto the table, his gaze never wavering from my face.
“And you’re back early,” he said, rising.
I draped my coat over my forearm, kicked off my shoes, and shrugged. “It wasn’t supposed to be a long, drawn-out evening.”
Frayne took a few steps toward me, the lines in his forehead grooving deeper. “How was it?”
“Horrible,” I said, before I could stop myself. I shook my head as I moved toward the hall closet. “That’s unfair,” I added, as I hung up my coat. “It wasn’t horrible, as much as something not for me.”
I turned and barreled into him. His hands shot out and braced my upper arms.
“Jesus. You don’t make a sound when you move.”
“A lifetime of apartment living,” he said. Once I was sure-footed and guaranteed not to fall into him again, he lowered his hands.
If I’d had any nerve, I would have asked him to put them back. Instead, I swallowed, turned, and walked toward the kitchen, as he asked, “Why wasn’t it something for you?”
I ignored the question. “I’m starving. Have you had anything to eat?”
I wasn’t surprised when he followed me.
“Not since lunch at the inn. Maureen had soup and sandwiches today, which, like everything else she’s served since I’ve been here, were delicious.”
“Mo only knows how to do delicious.” I peeked inside my fridge. “And speaking of…” I pulled out a glass container. “This is fried chicken she gave me this morning. Want some?”
He leaned a hip against the counter and cocked his head. “You don’t mind sharing?”
“We both have to eat.” I put the mashed sweet potatoes she’d sent along in a microwave bowl, then set the timer. “I hope you like your chicken cold because I’m in no mood to wait for the oven to heat.”
That darling little curl popped up in the corner of his mouth. “Cold is fine.”
“Did you read any more of Josiah’s diaries?” I asked while I pulled plates from the cabinet.
When he didn’t answer, I looked over at him. His quizzical head cock was in place again.
“What?”
“I’m curious why you won’t answer my question.”
I stared at the microwave, taking a moment to formulate my answer.
“The whole concept of dating is alien to me. I knew Danny since the second grade, and we got married when we were eighteen. He was the only guy I ever went out with, and it wasn’t even what anyone would consider dating, since we’d been together forever. Having to start all over at this age is”—I lifted one shoulder—“mentally exhaus
ting.”
“Why did you agree to go, then?”
“Because, as my grandmother succinctly put it, it’s time to move on.”
“And you thought hiring a matchmaker was the way to meet someone?”
“I didn’t seek Olivia out. I kind of got railroaded into it.”
I explained how the situation came about while I put the food on the kitchen table. Once seated, I continued. “Before I knew it, I’d agreed to go to tonight’s”—I waved my hand in the air—“thing.”
“So, again, why wasn’t it for you? I don’t know a lot about speed dating, but from what I’ve heard, it’s popular among millennials. Along with right-swipe hookups.” The jagged shake of his head told me all I needed to know how he felt about the way people met these days.
“And that’s the problem.” I pointed my sweet-potato-laden fork at him. “I’m in the wrong age bracket. Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer to meet someone and get to know them organically and over time, not try and stuff the story of my life into three minutes before an egg timer beeps. Even though I didn’t participate, I was tense and stressed watching the others who were. It all seemed…desperate to me.”
I stopped, mortified I’d admitted it, because in truth, that’s what I’d been feeling watching the group tonight.
From the moment we’d arrived at the restaurant, I could tell I’d made a big mistake. The women present were all older than me, had hungry, hopeful gleams in their eyes, and when they caught sight of me, a few of their stares turned hostile. I was all set to beat a hasty retreat when Olivia’s hand at the small of my back propelled me forward.
Part of the restaurant had been cordoned off, a half-dozen tables for two set up in a semicircle. Six women, six men, I assumed.
What was that saying about what happened when you assumed something?
A quick glance back at the hostility bowling my way and I realized it wasn’t because of my outfit or my age, but the fact I had the wrong chromosomes.
With me included, there were eight women. I was better at words than math, but even a five-year-old knew that left a smaller number of men.
With a gentle prod, Olivia shoved me toward the gaggle of women. For the first time in my life, I understood and sympathized with how Daniel must have felt walking into the lion’s den.
“Ladies,” I said, with a head bob and a forced smile.
Silence came back at me. I could stare down the most antagonistic of witnesses in a courtroom without flinching, but for some reason, all my courage flew south as these women glared at me through overly made-up, amateurly applied smoky eyes.
I swallowed the golf ball of fear in my throat.
“How’s everyone doing tonight?” I asked.
Lame, I know, but I was truly out of my element.
“You’re new,” a voice said. “Haven’t seen you before.”
“Y-yes. I’m a…friend…of Olivia’s.” If they thought I posed no dating threat, I figured they wouldn’t disembowel me.
“You joining in tonight, then?”
“Just an observer,” I assured her.
“Hey, aren’t you Fintan O’Dowd’s oldest?”
Another quirk of small town living, especially with a well-known parent: everyone knew who you were and who you were related to whether you knew them or not. Since I didn’t recognize the woman asking, I nodded.
“Thought you was married.” Yup, accused was the correct word.
“I was. I’m a widow. My husband died…was killed. In Afghanistan.”
Immediately, their collective animosity flew right out the restaurant’s front door. They approached me in a cluster, cooing and clicking their tongues in sad support of my plight.
If I’d known that was all it took to get them to put away their invisible pitchforks and blunderbusses, I’d have led with it.
And yes, I know that’s dramatic, but their facial expressions up until then were fifty shades of scary.
A few moments later, Olivia clapped her hands and called us to order.
I stood with her off at the side while she read the rules and held a stopwatch. A small bell sat on the table in front of her. At the first ding, the room went into motion.
The seven women all took their seats while the five men inspected them like hunters evaluating prey, and then made their way to the tables of their choice. I felt bad for the two women who sat solo.
“Don’t worry about them,” Olivia said, when I voiced my concern. “Everyone will have a chance to meet. You want to sit down at one of the tables and give this a go?”
Having a root canal without anesthesia while simultaneously getting my fingernails removed had more appeal. I declined, nicely, and said I just wanted to watch.
“I imagine living in a smaller community, it’s difficult to meet people you don’t already know in some capacity,” Frayne said after I told him what had happened.
I could add wise and sage to the words I used to describe him.
I nodded.
“So.” He took a long pull of water. “You haven’t been involved with anyone since your husband was killed?”
“No. I’ve been busy with my practice, with settling Eileen’s estate, with Nanny.” To my ears, the excuses sounded lame, much as I feared they had when I’d voiced them to Olivia. “Have you, since your wife died?”
He looked down at his plate, then back up at me. “No.”
The haunted shadows were back in his eyes.
“Unlike you, I didn’t get married young. I wasn’t even considering marriage before Cheyanne came into my life. She was a…force.”
There’s a description you don’t hear every day.
“She was the cover designer for one of your books?”
He nodded. “We met at the publisher’s office, discussed the book and her ideas for it. Then she asked me to join her for coffee. Coffee turned to dinner, and within a week she moved into my apartment. Three months later, we were married.”
“Wow. Talk about whirlwind romance.”
His lips pulled in at the corners. “I don’t know if that’s how I’d describe it.”
“Three months from meet to marriage? Colleen would label that whirlwind, and be thankful she didn’t need to plan the details of the ceremony. Nanny Fee would probably sigh—theatrically, because it’s Nanny, after all—and say it was a romance novel come to life.”
“More responsibility than romance, I’m afraid.”
This time I was the one who pulled the head-cock move.
“Cheyanne was pregnant.”
“Oh.”
“Yes. Oh. I did what my parents called the honorable thing and asked her to marry me. In truth, I was surprised when she said yes. Neither one of us was in love with the other.”
He took a long pull of his water while I digested that little piece of info.
“I told her I fully supported whatever she wanted to do with the baby, but I was delighted when she told me she was having it. After we got married and Mabel came along, our lives were, I thought, content.”
Until she died in a car crash with her lover in the front seat, her daughter in the back.
“Anyway.” He shook his head as if clearing it. “Since I’ve gotten out of rehab, I’ve been putting one foot in front of the other every day. Doing everything I can not to fall apart and start drinking again. Having this commission is helpful in keeping my mind occupied with something other than the accident and the aftermath. Plus it’s gotten me out of New York and my apartment.”
In a weird kind of way, our lives were very similar. He’d lost his family, discovering a devastating secret with their deaths, and I’d lost my husband to enemy fire. The difference was I’d already known the secret Danny had kept from me before he died.
“Memories don’t have to be sad,” I said, rising, my empty plate in my hand, and walked to the sink. “My grandmother taught us remembering the good stuff from the past is helpful in moving us all forward.”
This time when I turned around,
I wasn’t startled when he was right behind me.
After placing his plate and utensils alongside mine in the sink, he leaned back against the counter, dropped his hands into his pants pockets, and shot me that adorable head tilt, his gaze piercing. “Your grandmother is a wise woman.”
“About most things.” I shook my head. “Some would call her overly involved in her granddaughter’s lives.”
“I envy you that.”
My heart broke a little for him. From what he’d said, and what I’d surmised, his wife and daughter had been his world, his parents uninvolved. He’d mentioned no friends other than his agent. What a sad existence, to be so alone.
Maybe it was the wistful pitch in his voice or the feeling of loneliness lacing it that I understood so well. Maybe it was what Colleen had called the saddest eyes she’d ever seen. Or maybe it was the way he took care with, and cared about, everything except himself. Whatever emotion sparked it, I gave voice to the question plaguing me all evening.
“I need to ask you something.”
“Okay.”
I licked my lips and, as a shout-out to Nanny, girded my loins. “At Shelby’s office, you told me you’d wanted to kiss me that day in the museum but hadn’t because I was married.”
His brows tugged together as he nodded. “At the time I thought you were. And like I said, there are rules about things like that.”
I returned his nod.
He tilted his head a bit.
I swallowed and took a chance. “Do you still want to?”
“Kiss you?”
“Yes.”
He huffed out a breath, ran his hands through the hair at his temples, and then folded his arms across his chest. “More than I want to take my next breath.” With a swift headshake and mirthless laugh he added, “I think I proved it before your sister arrived.”
The answer I’d hoped for. “Okay, then.”
Before I lost all my nerve, I closed the distance between us, unfurled his arms, and hooked them around my waist like I’d dreamed of doing earlier.
His eyes narrowed. “Cathy?”
With my own hands flattened on top of his chest, his heart banging against them, I told him, “I’m no good at games, Mac. I never learned how to play them. I’m a simple girl, so I’ll say this plainly.”
