Scotty met them at the door, beaming like a proud father. “Come in! How's it going?”
Temple slammed her purse in his stomach as she walked by. “I'm going to get you for this, Jimbo,” she promised under her breath.
Recovering from the blow, Scotty frowned at her, then greeted Jon. “How's it going, buddy?”
“Fine, thank you.” Jon managed a loud whisper.
Scotty's two older children burst from their bedrooms, running down the hallway to greet the new arrivals. Temple hugged the boisterous kids. Pete was a miniature version of Scotty, while Cari had Steph's delicate features.
Scotty introduced Jon, then told the children to go watch videos in the den. They ran off in a flurry of excited chatter, Cari dragging a “blankee” behind her.
Steph appeared in the kitchen doorway, holding the baby. A diaper was draped over her shoulder to catch stray dribbles. “Hi, guys!”
“Hi, Steph.” Temple hugged her friend and the baby together, not resisting the urge to cup the infant's head with her hand.
“Hello,” Jon whispered.
“Dinner's almost ready,” Stephanie said. “Scotty, fix Temple and Jon a drink.”
“What'll it be, guys?” Scotty moved to the liquor cabinet to drop ice cubes into glasses.
“Just Perrier for me,” Temple said.
“Jon?”
“Whateveryou'rehaving.”
“Pardon?”
“Whateveryou'rehaving.”
Scotty glanced questioningly at Temple.
She shrugged. She didn't know what he'd said.
Pouring Scotch into a glass, Scotty added water and handed it to Jon.
“So, how's business at the telephone company?”
“Good.”
Temple and Scotty both smiled at having understood Jon's answer. Scotty decided to be brave, “Keeping busy, huh?”
“Yes, the storm the other night downed severallines. I was out allnight. Ican't get rested up.”
Temple and Scotty turned, saying simultaneously, “What?”
Steph reappeared, carrying her sleeping baby. “I'm going to put her to bed, then we'll eat.” She wrinkled her nose. “Teething time again.”
Temple stood up to help. “Can I help?”
“No, no, you and Jon sit there and get to know each other,” she sang out as she carried the baby down the hallway.
That escape route effectively cut off, Temple sank back onto the sofa. Her eyes inadvertently met Jon's. Flushing a deep red, he quickly looked away.
He's getting worse, not better. The evening is going to be endless.
Dinner was a disaster. Steph's lovely standing rib roast was lost in a sea of awkwardness as the four tried to carry on a stilted conversation. Temple was horrified when she realized she chewed louder than Jon talked.
Jon mumbled something again, and Steph, Scotty and Temple leaned forward in an effort to make out what he was saying.
It was hopeless. It sounded like, “A brick wall shit in a water pail,” but it couldn't have been.
Smiling, they nodded their heads, pretending to understand when in fact they hadn't a clue what he'd said.
Once, it sounded as if he'd said, “Grandmother was a hooker,” but Temple had to believe she was mistaken.
She could see Jon thought they were all stone-deaf and had severely limited vocabularies.
“Huh? Excuse me? What?” was repeated so many times during the meal, Temple was embarrassed. Before dessert, she was so frustrated she wanted to throttle him and choke out the words!
“Really, your dog was hit by a car?” Steph asked once.
“No, Idon't have a dog. I said I got a new set of tires,” he said.
“That's so sad.” They all nodded, agreeing that the loss of one's pet was traumatic.
“We had a dog once,” Steph said. “But it got old and we had to put him to sleep.” She sighed. “The hardest thing we ever had to do. I can't imagine losing one in an accident. It must have been horrible.”
“Did you have a service for it? Pet owners do that now,” Scotty said. “There's a pet cemetery not far from here.”
“I got a new set of tires. I don't have a dog,” Jon repeated.
“Well, I doubt that I would, either, but a pet does become an integral part of the family,” Scotty conceded.
“They're good tires. Good year makes them.”
“Good year Blimp? No, never seen it. How about you, Steph, Temple?”
Temple shook her head, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “No, never saw it.”
“Me neither, but I'd like to,” Steph offered. “Some friends of ours have. They passed by it on the way to Orlando last year. Dessert, anyone?”
She served cake and coffee in the living room. By now, Temple had a throbbing headache.
The mumble suggested they leave around nineâor that's what she hoped he'd said because she immediately got up and started for the door.
“The dinner was wonderful,” she complimented Steph.
“Thanks. Listen, I want you and Jon to take a piece of cake home with you. Come in the kitchen a sec while I wrap it up for you.”
Jon said something that sounded like “Blow your head off if you do,” but Temple followed Steph into the kitchen on the assumption he'd said something closer to “That's very nice of you.”
She didn't know. She hadn't understood a word he'd said all evening. Even Darrell looked good to her right now.
“Ye gads!” Steph whispered as the door closed behind them. “Guess this means you won't be seeing him again.”
“Not likely.”
“I'm so sorry. I had no idea he was a mumbler.”
“It's all right,” Temple said, her frustration softening. “He seems very nice.”
“Maybe, but I didn't understand a word he said!”
“Me neither. No telling what we talked about.”
Steph nodded pensively. “I hope we didn't agree to do this again.”
Temple couldn't help laughing at the apprehension on her friend's face.
Around nine-thirty, Temple dropped Jon off at his apartment house. He stood, cake in hand, looking rather forlorn at the failed evening.
“Thank you. I had a nice time.”
“Pardon?”
“I had a nice time. Thankyou.”
Temple nodded, smiling. “Sorry about your dog.” Shifting into gear, she drove off.
Glancing in the rearview mirror, she saw Jon still standing in front of the gate as she merged into traffic.
What she couldn't hear was Jon mumbling, “I don't have a dog. I said, TIRES. Are you guys deaf, or something?”
5
“I
KNOW WHAT the problem is,” Temple announced.
Craig sipped his coffee. “I didn't know we had a problem.”
Mechanical trouble had temporarily grounded their plane. Temple and Craig were waiting in the lunchroom for word on whether the flight would be rescheduled.
“I'm serious. I've been thinking a lot about this.”
“Okay. I'll bite. What's our problem?” Craig stirred sugar into his coffee.
“It's the blind dates. We're doing it all wrong.” Temple, couldn't stand one more Jon Bennett or Darrell... Darrell... Damn! What was that man's last name?
“There's a right way and a wrong way to date?” Craig asked.
“There has to be. And I must be doing it wrong. I couldn't meet this many losers otherwise.”
“Hey, give Scotty a little credit for some of those.”
Temple shook her head slowly in disbelief. “Last night was a nightmare. All the man wanted to do was talk about his dead dog.”
Craig studied her over the rim of his cup. “So, I suppose you've come up with a solution to this problem of ours?”
“It's so simple.” She set down her cup. “Who knows me better than anyone? And who knows you like an open book?”
“No one.”
“Wrong. Think.”
“I suppose this is where I say I know you better than anyone else?”
He did. And the more she thought about her plan, the more certain she was it would work.
“Well, isn't it true?”
Craig shrugged.
“So, from now on,” she told him, “I'll arrange dates for you with my friends and you can do the same for me.”
His coffee cup paused halfway to his mouth. “I thought we both agreed. We're not good at this dating thing.”
“But this is different,” she insisted. “I know you'd never set me up with a loser, and I certainly wouldn't suggest someone I didn't think was right for you. I'd want you to have a good time. And you'd want the same for me.” She leaned toward him, excited about her new plan. “Think about it, Craig. Our dates would be prescreened, so to speak. No more dates from hell.”
No more shouters, ex-cons or mumblers.
“See the advantages?” she said.
“No.” He drained his coffee cup and signaled for the waitress.
“Craig, it's the perfect solution. We've known each other foreverâor certainly long enough to know each other's preferences in the opposite sex. And we definitely know what the other doesn't like.”
She could see he still wasn't convinced.
“Temple, you're far more concerned about this than I am,” he said. “How many times do I have to repeat myself? I like my life the way it is. If you want to marry me, then we'll talk. Otherwise, I'll do my own PR, if you don't mind.”
His statement took her completely by surprise. The mere thought of her marrying him sent her pulse rate into double time. He was kidding, of course, but wow! Her fantasies could really take off on this one!
“I'll marry you,” she bantered. “I didn't realized you'd asked.”
For the briefest of moments, their gazes met. Holding her breath, she waited for him to retract the offer with some silly mock countersuggestion. But he didn't.
“Maybe you haven't been listening,” be said quietly.
“What?”
His glance shifted away. “Go on with your plan. I'm listening.”
Momentarily shaken, she had to reorganize her thoughts. “Your dates have been as insane as mine. IâI want you to meet someone who'll make you happyâlook after you.”
Craig studied the bottom of his coffee cup as if considering her idea.
“Exactly what are you looking for in a man, Temple?”
“What every woman looks for. Someone who's kind, sensitive, caring, loves animals and small children.”
Someone who talks normally and doesn't like marine aquariums.
“All that and be a man, too? Wow.”
“It's possible.”
He leaned back in the booth and stretched his arms along the back of the bench. “Well, I'm not in the market for a screening program. I'm capable of finding a woman for myself.”
Ignoring him, she sipped her coffee. “We'll start with Gabrielle.”
“Nuh-uh. If I have to go along with this crazy idea, we'll start with Bill.”
“Gabrielle. She's perfect for you. Fun, outgoingâ”
“Bill's caring, sensitiveâ”
“Gabrielle Nielson. You remember her. She was one of my roomies in flight school?”
She wouldn't mention the other oneâNancy Johnson.
“Gabrielle's nice, Craig. Laid-back, comfortable. Loves children and animals. You'll like her.” She paused for a moment, then said, “Let me see what she's doing Saturday night. You two have so much in common! She works for TWA. If she's not working an overnighter, I know she'll want toâ”
“No,” Craig interrupted. “I want to know what I'm getting into before I ring that doorbellâ”
“Of course. I'll phone her right now.”
“Temple, if you want me to do something Saturday night, you come by the apartment and we'll grill a couple of steaks, watch a movie, kick back and relaxâ”
But Temple was already headed for the row of telephones lining the lobby wall. She was back in ten minutes, grinning from ear to ear.
“Temple, I'm doing this, okay, but not because I want to meet this woman! Only to show you this idea won't work.”
She ignored his tone. “You'll love her. Trust me!”
Â
RETYING HIS TIE and adjusting it up close, Craig studied his reflection in the mirror. He didn't feel good about this surefire plan of Temple's. Why hadn't he insisted that she come by instead? If she didn't want to cook steaks, they could have ordered in Chinese. She'd said she wasn't doing anything, and experience told him he would enjoy her company far more than Gabrielle's even if the woman was gorgeous and charming. Truth was, Temple had spoiled him for any other woman, but she had no idea.
Her blind spot about pilots kept her from recognizing how great they could be together. So, until she got over this notion about not mixing her private life with her career, he just had to take it easy and go along with this crazy idea of hers.
Jerking the knot in the tie free, he tossed it onto the bed in frustration. When was he going to learn to say no? Such a simple word. Two letters, easy to say. No.
N.O.
No.
NO. NO!
So simple, and yet he couldn't say it to Temple.
Staring at his image in the mirror, he thought about the slip he'd made with her. Had he actually asked her to marry him?
No. No way.
“I'll marry you. I didn't realize you'd asked.” Her words came back to him like a rushing wind.
Was she kidding, or was she testing the waters?
Could she have been serious?
Come on, Craig. Where's your head! It was a jokel
Â
AT PRECISELY 7:25, Craig parked the Lincoln in front of Gabrielle's apartment building. Glancing up at the second story, he drew a breath of resignation. A few minutes later, he rang the doorbell and waited, glancing up and down the wide hallway. Not great, but nice.
When the door opened, Craig's interest was piqued. Gabrielle was actually pretty. Blond curls framed a gamine face, and bright blue eyes sparkled back at him. The mix of hot-pink jeans, painted red toenails in sling-back sandals and a chartreuse tank top was cute.
“Craig Stevens,” he said. “Temple's friend?”
“Hi. Gabrielle.” She giggled. “Temple's friend, too.” With a grand sweep of her hand, she invited him in. “Entrée.”
Craig stepped inside, smiling.
“Parlez-vous français?”
He knew just enough French to know he couldn't speak it. “Very little. Are you French?”
“No, but I'm in Europe a lot. Let me take your jacket.”
He shrugged out of his coat, and handed it to her, now acutely aware of an odor that was beginning to make him slightly nauseated.
“Want a beer?”
“Sure.”
He caught a movement from the corner of his eye. A long, gray cat crept along the baseboard, an evil look in its yellow eyes as it measured him up and down with a Garfield look of disdain. He wasn't an animal person.
“Your cat?”
Gabrielle's voice came from the depths of the refrigerator. “One of them. I have five.” She shut the refrigerator door with her foot. “It's difficult in an apartment, but cats are really good about taking care of themselves. You don't smell my litter boxes, do you?”
“Uh, no,” he lied. Litter boxes. His stomach rolled.
“I didn't think so. Do you like cats?”
“Actually, I don't know much about them.”
“You didn't have one as a child?”
“No.” Not likely to have one as an adult, either. Certainly not five.
“A dog?”
“No.”
“Oh. Light beer okay?”
“Fine.”
He followed her back to the living area where she gestured for him to sit down.
“Asseyez-vous.”
He perched on the edge of the couch, edging back a fraction when he noticed a yellow feline resembling a tacky fur neck-piece curved around the leg of the coffee table.
“You really should get a cat,” Gabrielle said. “They're lots of company, and they do virtually take care of themselves.”
“I don't have the time to give to a pet. I'm gone a lot.”
She brightened. “Yeah, Temple said you work out of Dallas/Fort Worth, too. It's a wonder we haven't bumped into each other before.”
Gabrielle sank onto the floor and pulled another motley yellow cat into her lap. One eye fixed on him with a challenging look, while the other free-floated.
“How is Temple, anyway?”
Craig shifted, counting cats. “You haven't seen her lately?” If Temple had fixed him up with someone she didn't know very well, he'd strangle her.
“Not lately. I fly international flightsâParis, mostly. We only talked for a moment when she called about us meeting. How's she getting along?”
“Fine.”
Casually leaning back, Craig crossed his leg, then jumped, almost spilling his beer. Something furry had attached itself to his thigh.
With a glance at Crabrielle, he attempted to brush it away but was disgusted to find it stuck to his moist hand. Visions of an alien creature from “The X-Files” flashed through his mind. With his luck, it would permanently attach itself to him, growing until it devoured him completely. On closer inspection, Craig identified the thing as a huge fur ball.
He balanced the beer in one hand, and covertly tried to wipe the clinging hair ball onto the edge of the sofa.
“Oh, gosh!” Gabrielle cried, setting aside her beer. “I'm sorry. My chow is shedding.”
His stomach sank. “You have dogs, too?”
“Just two.” She plucked at the collection of fur he'd gathered on his trousers. “A chow and a rottweiler. My dog walker took the boys out earlier for a run in the park.”
Managing to extricate himself from the tentacles of the fur ball, he set the beer on the end of the coffee table and tried to dry his hands on his trousers. Clearly nonplussed, Gabrielle rubbed moisture from her beer can, dampened the hair ball into a roll and arced it toward an already overflowing wastebasket.
Forcing himself to relax, Craig smiled.
She smiled back.
As the silence stretched, Craig's mind cast about for something, anything, to say. “So, you and Temple were in flight school togetherâ”
“Roommates. Temple and Nancy and I were real close back then. Nancy stayed in Virginia, but I was really glad when Temple and I were both assigned to Dallas. She said you've been friends nearly all your lives. You must have met Nancy.”
“Nancy?” His smile faded.
“Yeah. Nancy Johnson. She and Temple were best buddies. I know you must have met her.”
“Um, yes, I met her.” For a moment, the smell of Preparation H and bananas overode the smell of the litter boxes. The memory made his stomach cramp.