Make Me a Match. Alice Sharpe
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sweater probably didn’t help much, either. She vowed to get rid of it. Dating or not, a girl had her pride.
“What can I do for you?” she asked him.
“Not a thing,” he said, and walked right past her into the house. His familiarity with the place was evident in the way he went directly to the den. Lora closed the door and followed him. He looked good from the back, his body strong and tall, his shoulders broad. He wore faded jeans and a black T-shirt and cross trainers on his feet. He had a way of walking that looked masculine and physically fit. That walk reminded her of Calvin. He walked the same way, with a subdued bounce, full of confidence, full of sass. Full of himself.
Dr. Reed greeted Jon with genuine warmth. “It’s a shame you missed dinner,” he said.
“I stopped off for a sandwich,” John told him. “Where are the dogs?”
“In the backyard. Lora has a way with them. Well, it’s too bad you ate. I think it only fair that as Lora got here first, she gets dibs on which bedroom she wants.”
“You knew he was coming?” Lora asked.
“Of course. After you left today, Jon pointed out how much more useful he would be with some of the more personal aspects of my care, like bathing.”
Though this was undoubtedly true, Lora glared at Jon.
“Happy to be of help,” Jon said. His voice was nothing but sincere, but the challenging scowl he leveled at Lora said it all. “In fact, Victor,” he added, “why don’t we let Lora go home? I’m sure she has better things to do than hang around with a couple of veterinarians.”
Lora came close to punching him.
“Absolutely not,” Dr. Reed said just in time. “Lora and I made a deal. Besides, her mother taught her to cook. Imagine, asparagus and shrimp with ginger and garlic—well, she’s a whiz. She even wants to weed the garden this Sunday. You’ll be glad she’s around during the long evenings when I’m out like a light by eight o”clock.”
“I’m an excellent conversationalist,” Lora said in an attempt to goad Jon. “And I play a mean game of strip poker.”
Jon didn’t crack.
Chuckling, Dr. Reed said, “See? Isn’t she cute? Lora, I think it’s time to let the dogs and cats back inside for the night. Jon, how about getting me a pain pill and helping me to bed?”
As Jon assisted Dr. Reed, Lora fumed and fussed her way back into the kitchen with a platter of dirty dishes and a bad temper. Jon was up to something, that much was clear. He didn’t trust her, that’s why he was really here.
Why should he trust you? a niggling voice chirped in the back of her mind.
“Oh, shut up!” she snarled.
The animals were all begging at the door. They came inside in one big whoosh, tails wagging, snouts nuzzling, bodies coiling around her legs.
It was startling being surrounded by so many critters! And, truth be known, a little comforting. Tropical fish didn’t interact a lot and never when actually outside of their aquarium, of course, so this was all new. The white cat rubbed against Lora’s shoe and Lora reached down and picked it up. The cat regarded her with a raspy purr and adoring blue eyes. Hard to believe she and Boggle belonged to the same species.
“The fact is,” she whispered into the cat’s ear, “I’m sneakier than Jon. I also have a lofty goal to fuel my fire—true love. Well, the possibility of true love, at least. Plus, I need to get those meddlesome females out of my life before they marry me off to the unsuspecting barber across the street. Or a teenager,” she added with a shudder. “With all that going for me, why should I be worried about what Jon thinks or what Jon wants or even that he seems determined to interfere with my plans?”
The cat kneaded her claws and purred. If that wasn’t a resounding vote of confidence, what was?
“The cat’s deaf,” Jon said from the doorway.
Startled, Lora twirled to face him. “What?”
“Frosty is deaf. White cats with blue eyes often are. The white gene can induce withering of the inner ear. Frosty’s former owners couldn’t handle it, that’s why Victor adopted him.”
“Oh. She’s a him.”
“So spilling your guts to that cat is kind of pointless.”
Yikes! What had he heard her saying? Setting the cat down, she said, “How did you know I was spilling my guts, which I wasn’t, by the way. Were you eavesdropping?”
He smiled. “Don’t worry, I didn’t hear a word. Listen, we have to talk. Come with me.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “We can talk right here.”
“No. Come outside.”
“It’s dark out there.”
“Are you afraid of the dark?”
She wanted to say, No, I’m afraid of you. She said nothing.
“We’ll turn on the porch light.”
Leaving the dogs at the door, they went into the backyard. Jon switched on a light and the overgrown path to a small structure at the far end of the yard glowed with soft light.
The structure turned out to be a garden gazebo, less than eight feet across with bench seats on three sides. It had probably been charming at one time, but the drizzly north coast weather had stripped it of most of the white paint and dry rot had tilted the foundation. Jon sat on one creaking bench and Lora sat on another.
While she waited for him to gather his thoughts, she admired the way the light hit his cheekbones and forehead and glinted off his hair. This was the north coast in April—no way his hair got sun-bleached around here unless he went to a tanning booth or had it artificially bleached and she just couldn’t see him in either scenario. That meant he’d moved here from somewhere sunny and not too long ago.
Somewhere sunny. Him in a bathing suit, bare back crusted with glittering sand, sunlight warming his big shoulders. Suntan oil, warm ocean breezes, margaritas in a thermos. Her beside him—
What!
It was this setting. Romantic, hidden, the perfect place for crazy fantasies.
Another scene unfolded in her head. In this small drama, she was alone with Jon, not on the beach, not in the blazing sun, but here in this gazebo, the fragrance of flowers mingling with the nearby smell of the sea, his eyes smoldering as he looked deep into her soul. She could just about feel his fingers touch her face and the heat of his mouth as it closed over hers—
Jon cleared his throat and the wild images flitted away.
Still, he said nothing.
“Not that this hasn’t been fascinating,” Lora said stiffly, now wanting to escape her imagination as much as a confrontation, “but if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be going to…well, bed.” She rose to her feet.
“Drop the act,” Jon said softly.
She sat back down. “What act?”
Now he stood. Pacing back and forth in small controlled steps, he shot her a laser-like glance. “I know what you’re up to.”
He did? “You do?”
“Yes. And I think it’s appalling.” The pacing stopped, the glance turned into a glare. “You’re trying to con Victor into a marriage.”
How did he know this? Lora racked her brain, trying to recall if she’d said anything to anyone about her plans for Dr. Reed and her mother. She hadn’t, she was sure of it. Wait a second, she wasn’t trying to con anyone, she was simply facilitating romance. There was a difference! Fired by righteous indignation, she said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He laughed.