Authors: Sheila Claydon
“Sorry,” she said, still gasping for breath.
“I’m not laughing
at
you.
Well…not
just
at you! It’s me too.
We’ve both let other people call the shots
which, given that we are mature adults, is totally ridiculous.
I’m only here because my friend challenged me
to join an Internet Dating Agency.
She
said I needed to find a husband.”
“And do you?”
“You know I really don’t,” she said.
“This has made me realize I’m quite happy
with my life as it is, even if I am in a bit of a rut.
Perhaps I’ll just change my job instead, or
book an exotic holiday or something.”
He smiled then.
“A
much safer bet Claire Harris.”
She grinned at him, hoisted her bag onto her shoulder, and
held out her hand.
“This has been my
best date bar none. As well as making me laugh it has made me see sense. I
don’t want a husband.
I don’t even want
a date.
I should never have listened to
my friend.”
His smile grew wider. “Now that we have established neither
of us is remotely interested in marriage, or even dating, how about joining me
for a meal?
I can’t guarantee that I’ll
be good company because jet lag is bound to kick in shortly. I would like to
make up for my brother’s crass behaviour though, if you’ll let me.”
“Won’t that just encourage him?” Claire was still chuckling.
“Not if I don’t tell him, it won’t.
Come on. Let’s see what the hotel bistro has
to offer.
I’m afraid I’m not up to
anything more exciting than that this evening.”
* * *
Ten minutes later, crammed into an alcove designed for
people with much shorter legs, Daniel Marchant raised a glass of red wine to
his mouth with a wry smile.
“Here’s to the single life.”
Claire laughed as she picked up her own glass.
“Now we’ve established that we don’t need to
impress one another, I want to know exactly how long ago that photo of you was
taken.”
He looked confused for a moment until he realized she was
referring to the photo on the Dating Agency web site. Then he gave a resigned
shrug. “As I didn’t know I’d signed up until half an hour ago, I haven’t looked
at my profile. I would guess it flatters me though.”
“You had shorter hair,” she told him.
“And you were very tanned.”
“If I was laughing and wearing the sort of white T-shirt
that had me looking like an all American college boy, then I’ll kill myself!”
She grinned as she gave a slow nod.
“Will I get to watch?”
“No, because on second thoughts I think I’d rather kill my
brother! That photo is at least eight years old.”
“He was only following the rules.
I haven’t met anybody yet who looks like his
photo, well not much like it anyway. One guy even went from shoulder length
curls to shaved head in the interval between initial contact and our meeting.”
Daniel gave her a quizzical look. “What about you?”
“I submitted the best one I had. You know, full make-up, the
works, but it did look like me…at least I think it did. Maybe once my dates saw
me in the flesh they were disappointed too.”
“I doubt that very much,” he said, and the way he looked at
her as he lifted his glass to his lips brought a sudden flush of colour to
Claire’s normally pale face.
At that moment the waiter arrived with a laden tray. By the
time he had unloaded it she had persuaded herself that the brief flash of
admiration she had seen in Daniel Marchant’s eyes was a figment of her
imagination.
She had also persuaded
herself to ignore the fact that they were a deep brown with long lashes, and
were set wide apart under straight brows.
She shook away a fluttery feeling stirring deep inside her.
A feeling that seemed to have been ignited by his level gaze, and by the husky
drawl of his voice.
Anxious to distract
herself, she asked him about his jet lag.
He shrugged, cutting into his steak.
“It goes with the job,” he said.
Then, before Claire could question him
further, he began to ask her about her own life.
* * *
They were halfway through coffee before Daniel Marchant’s
increasingly stifled yawns prompted Claire to glance at her watch.
With an exclamation of horror she drained her
cup and pushed back her chair. She had been keeping him from his bed for hours.
“I’m so sorry!” she said, gathering up her bag.
“I didn’t realize it was this late.
You should have reminded me about the jet
lag.”
He stood up too, and helped her into her coat.
“You’ve done me a favour by keeping me
awake.
With any luck I’ll sleep through
until early morning now.”
Claire gave him a doubtful smile.
She knew he was just being polite.
How could she have been so thoughtless?
It wasn’t as if he had actually wanted to
have dinner with her in the first place.
She held out her hand.
“Thank you for the meal.
I really enjoyed it.
Don’t be too
hard on your brother either.
He’s just
looking out for you.”
Although he smiled at her, he made no attempt to take her
hand. “Maybe you’re right.
Maybe just
this once I’ll let him off the hook because I’ve enjoyed myself too. Now let’s
see if someone at reception can rustle up a taxi for you.”
“Don’t be silly.
It’s
only a couple of stops on the bus.”
“Nonsense!
It’s dark
and it’s raining, and even though we are reluctant dates I still need to make
sure you get home safely.”
Her eyes widened. Looks, manners, and now chivalry. Too
taken aback to argue she let him shepherd her towards the foyer, and then
waited obediently while he organized a taxi. Within moments the doorman
indicated that one had arrived. Minutes later she was being driven through
streets slick with rain, her hurried thanks to Daniel Marchant a fading memory.
* * *
Daniel leaned wearily against the elevator as it carried him
upwards.
Why now?
Why her?
If Carl hadn’t interfered he would have remained perfectly
content with his life and with his hard won equilibrium. It had taken him years
to get there. Years of family trauma, and years of running an organization that
held little interest for him so college fees and medical bills could be paid.
He had found a way, too, of balancing his own interests with the need to earn
sufficient money to keep the family afloat. He had also persuaded himself that
a single and single-minded life was a necessary state if he was to achieve
everything he wanted. And now, Claire!
One look into her cool gray eyes was all it had taken. That,
and her infectious laughter!
It had only
gotten worse when he noticed the luminosity of her pale skin, the shots of
violet in her cloud of black curls, and the long, long legs encased in tight
jeans. Without wanting to he had found himself falling deeper and deeper into
the hole where he had once had a heart. And getting to know her better hadn’t
helped. All that had done was open up the ache of loneliness he had hidden from
himself for a very long time.
Talking to Claire, sitting opposite her, watching the
expressions change on her mobile face had just made him want to know her
more.
But he was out of luck because
from the very first minute they met she had made it abundantly clear that,
despite having signed up to a dating agency, she wasn’t remotely interested in settling
down. Meeting someone and falling in love was quite obviously the last thing on
her mind.
Chapter Two
Searching in her purse for change Claire didn’t notice the
taxi driver getting out of the car until he opened the passenger door, exposing
her to the harsh glare of the street light.
“It’s been paid for already luv,” he said, waving away her
proffered coins.
“Gentleman said I was
to make sure you got home safe. Told me to walk you to your door.”
A bubble of laughter threatened again as Claire scrambled
out of the cab.
He was at least four
inches shorter than her, and by the time he had climbed the steps up to her
apartment he’d developed a wheezing cough.
Some Sir Galahad!
He seemed to see the funny side of the situation himself
because he grinned at her as she unlocked her door.
“It’s earned me a good tip,” he said by way
of explanation as he turned back to his car.
Closing the door behind her, Claire dumped her bag and hat
on the table. Then, without pausing to remove her coat, she hurried across to
her computer and switched it on.
Within
moments she had logged into the Dating Agency site but when she searched for
Daniel Marchant there were no matches for his name.
She sat back in her chair, ignoring the two emails in her
message box. He had deleted his profile already.
Not that she was actually interested in
seeing him again. She just wanted to read his details because she had learned
very little about him during their meal. He’d told her he worked in tourism,
and said he travelled a lot, but apart from that he hadn’t told her anything
else at all. And now it was too late.
It was her own fault for not doing her homework. Once she
realized most prospective dates exaggerated their profiles she had lost
interest in actually checking out anything but the most basic information,
preferring to rely on a face-to-face meeting for the truth.
Consequently she knew next to nothing about
Daniel Marchant.
She had only agreed to
meet him because she needed a final date, he had asked her, and he looked
good.
Except he hadn’t asked her of course! It had been his
brother Carl. And during the meal Daniel had kept their conversation
concentrated on Claire. He’d asked about her job and what she did in her spare
time and, flattered by his interest, she had found herself telling him about
her work and then about her photography. She’d even told him that her long-term
dream was to find a job where she could combine her library training with her
camera skills.
Now, reflecting on their conversation, she was amazed she’d
told him so much. She was normally fairly reserved with strangers and yet,
somehow, Daniel Marchant had coaxed most of the details of her life out of
her.
He knew she was a librarian. He
also knew she was an only child, and that her parents had been quite old when
she was born.
“They’re still old hippies,” she had explained with a laugh
as she related a few outlandish anecdotes from her childhood.
“They’ve always been so alternative and
eccentric that I more or less brought myself up. They never really told me what
to do. That’s probably why I’ve ended up working in a library.
I’m sure a psychologist would say it’s some
sort of inner bid for order after the chaos of my upbringing.”
He had laughed with her, but the wistful note in his voice
hadn’t escaped her. “Very different from my childhood then,” he’d said.
“I come from a deeply conservative and
buttoned up sort of family with rules for everything.”
And now she would never know.
Her only way of contacting him had been via
the website message box because nobody with any sense gave out their telephone
number or address. Instead, they saved such personal details for later, for
when they were sure they wanted to meet again. So now she couldn’t even thank
him for the meal because he had chosen to take himself off the market before he
went to bed. Not that she blamed him.
She was going to do exactly the same thing.
The sooner she forgot about the fiasco of her
affair with the Internet, and particularly her brief encounter with Daniel
Marchant, the better.
* * *
The rest of the week dragged.
Not even the prospect of a visit from a class
of primary school children raised Claire’s spirits.
Normally she enjoyed showing them how the
library worked and asking about their favourite stories.
Days before they were due she would choose
bookmarks, prepare quiz sheets, and download colouring pictures from the
Internet. Then she would search for a book of the right length so she could
read them a ten-minute story at the end of their visit. This time, however, she
found everything a chore.
By Friday morning, the cheerful middle-aged women who worked
with her had started looking at her with worried expressions. She forced a
smile and assured them she was fine. And she was fine except…except she
couldn’t get the memory of Daniel Marchant out of her head.
“I just need a change of scene,” she told them. “Some fresh
air. A walk along the beach.”
“You’ll be going to visit your parents then?” they said.
She nodded.
That was
exactly what she would do. She knew she was always welcome at the big rambling
house her parents had bought when their advancing years had finally persuaded
them to settle down.
Old and battered,
it took the full brunt of the northwest wind that blew with varying degrees of
force for most of the year, but she loved it. She visited often because it was
close to the sea, and to a nature reserve full of the things that she loved to
photograph.