Making Mr. Right. Jamie Denton
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Chaney.”
“Mom used to make me go to the eye doctor at least once a year,” he said. “But when mine broke and I didn’t have time...”
“In how many years?”
“Five, maybe six,” he muttered.
Cindy pointed to the pad in front of him. “Put that on the list, PC. Top of the list. First thing Monday morning. You have to get an appointment with an optometrist.” She rolled her eyes. “And I wondered why you were getting such geeky glasses the past few years. I couldn’t imagine that your doctor didn’t have more fashionable ones.”
“But you think I should get contacts,” he pointed out.
“If you can wear them,” she said. “You have beautiful blue eyes, PC. You should let—”
“You think so?” he interrupted. The beautiful blue eyes narrowed. His voice lowered. “You think I have beautiful eyes?”
If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was flirting. She willed herself not to flush but wasn’t certain she was successful. “I’m guessing,” she said sarcastically. “It’s hard to tell behind those things.”
“Should I get colored lenses?”
“Why mess up such an interesting shade?”
He laughed and she realized she’d fallen into his trap. Okay, she’d admitted she thought his eyes were beautiful. They were a very normal blue, except they were flecked with gray. It made them seem the color of the sky on a beautiful day. Studying his gorgeous eyes was exactly the kind of habit she had to break. She looked away.
He finished perusing the list as Flo stuck her head in the door to check on them. “How’s it coming?”
“What do you think?” Cindy invited her in to look over the items they’d come up with.
Flo read over his shoulder, looking as skeptical about some of it as Cindy felt. “You’d better do something about his manners, too.”
Parker looked indignant.
“I don’t mean manner manners,” she said before he could protest. “I mean...you know.” She waved toward Cindy. “The way he moves.”
“You mean mannerisms,” Cindy said, frowning herself.
“Mannerisms,” Flo agreed. “It won’t be as hard as it sounds,” she added a promise for Parker. “He’s very graceful when he’s relaxed or not being self-conscious. You’ve seen him dance,” she added as Cindy nodded. “Like a stick figure. Stick legs.”
“You think we can do something about that,” Cindy wondered aloud, adding Mannerisms to the list.
“He isn’t that bad. Just self-conscious—like he’ll be if all this comes off—he’ll get stiff and awkward. You’ll just have to figure out some way to make him relax. Take him dancing. Practice until he’s comfortable.” Flo danced around the table, holding an imaginary partner. “But not just dancing,” she warned. “You’ll have to take on all those things that make people think he’s a computer geek. Like walking across a room with his shoulders scrunched when he’s concentrating. Or squinting continually,” she pointed out as he did it again.
Cindy tapped the end of her pen at Scowling on the list. “It might help if he got the proper glasses,” she stated.
“You need to practice all of this on Cindy.” Flo snapped her fingers as if the idea had just struck her. But her expression was too smug.
Cindy felt a knot grow in the pit of her stomach. That’s all she needed, someone playing matchmaker while she was trying to fix him up for Mallory.
“Practice on Cindy,” Flo reiterated. “Call her. Take her out. Wine and dine her. Go dancing.”
“Lousy idea,” Cindy protested.
“Practice makes perfect.” Flo ignored her and directed the remark at Parker.
“It’s brilliant,” he said, sprawling back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. His feet tangled with hers under the table.
She shifted uncomfortably and straightened the pad as if it were a stack of papers. “It’s silly. You’ve been comfortable with me forever,” she said. “So how is that going to help you with Mallory?”
Parker fixed her with those intent eyes. “I‘ll—” he searched for a word “—woo you. It would make me plenty uncomfortable and awkward. It will be great practice.”
“It would make us both ‘plenty uncomfortable and awkward.’ And what good would it do? I’m not at all like Mallory.”
He compressed his lips, studying her. “But you know what you like. What one woman likes in a man can’t be that much different from another.”
“Sure. That’s why Mallory’s been married twice and I don’t even have a boyfriend. See? We don’t think alike. Besides, how am I supposed to react to being ‘wooed’?”
“What do you mean?”
“Am I supposed to playact, too? Play like I’m falling in love with you,” she added when he scrunched his face into an incomprehensible mess.
“Just tell me what I do wrong and what I do right.” He spread his hands as if it made all the sense in the world. “That’s all you’d have to do. I learn best from experience.”
She continued to shake her head.
He covered her hand with one of his, letting the corners of his mouth turn up slowly. “If you’re concemed that I’ll get some weird, romantic notion...” He let the statement finish itself.
He’d said it in his most sincere, totally clueless way. It was the remark of the true Parker she knew and loved—the Parker Chaney she had to quit loving. And probably the best way to do that was to turn him into exactly what he wanted to be: someone Mallory would love. “Don’t worry, PC,” she said softly, disengaging her hand from his. “I’m not concerned about anything like that.”
“You don’t trust me.”
“What does trust have to do with anything?” It wasn’t him she didn’t trust. It was herself. “But you can’t experiment with people like you do one of your computer programs.”
“You’re right, Cindy.” Flo met Cindy’s gaze across the top of Parker’s head. “It was a lousy idea. I take it back,” she said, an apology in her eyes.
Cindy sighed and picked up her pen. “Now, shouldn’t we figure out how to deal with all of this realistically if we want to rescue you from geekdom?”
“I’ve done rather well with it,” he said, lifting his straight, perfect nose and showing an arrogance Cindy had seen more and more often the past couple of years. His success hadn’t gone to his head exactly, but he had slowly changed, gained an inner confidence that had been missing when he was younger. He no longer slinked into a room and lurked on the fringes as he had when faced with a crowd back in high school.
Just last week, she’d seen a clip of him on the nightly business news on TV. Some company had just signed a contract with his company and the cameras were there, witnessing the agreement. There had been a presence, a proud swagger, a tall assurance in the way he’d held his shoulders as the camera caught him shaking hands with that company’s CEO. She’d noted his easy grace at the time and felt proud for him. Other people must have seen him the same way because stock in PC, Inc. soared more than four points the next day. But business was different. Social situations tied him in knots.
“You’re right. You’ve done extremely well,” Cindy told him primly, laying the pen back down with a snap. “Anyone who isn’t impressed with who and what you are can just go to hell. Who cares what anyone thinks.”
“Except...” He looked confused.
“Mallory?”