Beneath The Surface. Linda Turner
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that there were worse things than being alone—such as getting mixed up with the wrong type of man. She was going to take it slow and easy this time and give herself a chance. She was a good person and she deserved the best. This time, she was going to get it.
So why are you only talking to Logan St. John? an irritating voice in her head demanded. Why are you limiting yourself to just one man? The dating service gave you a list of five prospective dates. Call them. Then get another list and start the process all over again. That’s why you joined a dating service—to meet men! What are you waiting for?
Her heart pounded at the thought. She had never dated or been involved with more than one man at a time. Not that she’d had the chance, she thought wryly. Few men had shown an interest in her. There had been months, even years, when she hadn’t had a single date. While she’d sat at home, dreaming of Prince Charming and hating her solitude, every other woman she knew was having a full, active social life, getting to know any number of men before settling down with one. Wasn’t it time she did the same thing?
Captivated by the idea, Abby felt sudden, foolish tears sting her eyes and had to laugh at herself. “Silly, there’s no reason to cry. You can do this!” It wasn’t rocket science. All she had to do was gather her courage and make some phone calls after she got home from work. Maybe then she’d be too busy to think about Logan.
Chapter 3
When Abby stepped through her front door three hours later, however, and her dog, Buster, greeted her with a joyous bark from the backyard, she found any number of reasons not to pick up the phone and call some of the other men on her dating list. She had to look at her mail and check her answering machine and spend some time with Buster. And then, of course, she had laundry to do and dinner to cook. She’d call later, after she did the dishes and settled down for the evening….
Then she realized what she was doing and stiffened. No! she told herself, swearing softly. She wouldn’t do this. She would not act like a scared rabbit. Any bimbo could call a man. It didn’t require any brain power. All she had to do was pick up the phone and punch in the number. The sooner she got it over with, the easier it would be.
“Yeah, right,” she muttered as she pulled the list of prospective dates from the top drawer of her desk. “If it’s so easy, why are my palms sweating?”
Because you’re a coward.
She couldn’t argue with that irritating little voice in her head, especially when it was right. Her heart slamming against her ribs, she frowned down at the first name. Frank Gurenski. What kind of man was he? she wondered. There was only one way to find out. Throwing caution to the wind, she quickly punched in his phone number.
“Hello?”
Up until that moment, Abby would have sworn she was working hard at not jumping to conclusions about a person without getting to know them first. But with a single word, Frank Gurenski revealed himself to be stiff and cool and hard to get to know. Disappointed, Abby almost told him she had the wrong number, but then reasoned that he could have had a bad day. Maybe he had call waiting and she’d caught him in the middle of another phone call. A lot of people didn’t like to be interrupted.
So why would he have call waiting if he doesn’t like to be interrupted? How dumb is that?
Sternly ordering the voice in her head to behave, she grabbed on to her courage with both hands and said with forced cheerfulness, “Hi. I’m Abby Saunders. Is this Frank Gurenski?”
“Yes.”
“The Right One Dating Service gave me your name and number. I hope I’m not calling at a bad time.”
“No. This is fine.”
Whatever reaction Abby had been expecting, it wasn’t such a total lack of interest. “Have you met anyone yet or are you still looking?”
“I’m still looking,” he retorted. “It’s not easy to find someone.”
Especially if you don’t talk, she thought, but she wisely kept that thought to herself. Instead, she waited for him to take up the conversational ball and ask something about her, but he didn’t say a word. An awkward silence fell between them, and just that easily, all Abby’s fears about dating came rushing back. Was she the problem? Did he find her uninteresting? Was that why he wasn’t asking her anything?
Oh, please! At least you’re trying. The man’s a dud. Cut it short and put yourself out of your misery.
She didn’t need to be told twice. “Well,” she said brightly, “it was nice talking to you. I really just called to chat for a while to see if we had anything in common, but I really don’t think we do. I wish you luck finding someone, though. Bye.”
Yes! Now you’re getting the hang of it! If you have to work that hard to carry on a conversation with someone, you don’t want to date him. Cut your losses and move on.
Stunned, unable to believe that she’d hung up on the man, Abby stood in the sudden silence of her kitchen and didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. In the past, she would have continued a conversation that was going nowhere simply because she would have felt guilty if she hadn’t. But not anymore, she thought, grinning. She didn’t have to waste time on someone who couldn’t string three or four words together just because she didn’t want to be alone. She had choices!
Pleased, she punched in the second name on the list. Luke Templeton. What kind of man was he? Hopefully, he could at least talk.
Fifteen minutes later, Abby was finally able to hang up, but she had little positive to say about Luke Templeton. The man could talk, all right. And talk and talk! And although he hadn’t boasted like Dennis had, he was definitely a man of strong opinions. He’d given her a laundry list on politics, religion, and money, and had given her little time to get a word in edgewise. He’d been so caught up in what he had to say that she doubted he’d even noticed when she hung up.
Amused, she wondered if Logan had run into the same type of problems with the women he’d called. Giving in to impulse, she quickly punched in his number and almost laughed aloud at her daring. Just days ago, she would never have dreamed of doing such a thing, but she truly felt as if she was getting the hang of using the dating service. She just had to keep her sense of humor and not take the situation too seriously.
“Hi. This is Logan. You missed me. Leave your name and number at the beep and I’ll call you back.”
Pulled from her thoughts at the sound of Logan’s voice on his answering machine, Abby found herself smiling. He really did have a nice voice. It was deep and husky, really sexy. Did he look as good as he sounded? she wondered, her heart thumping at the thought. Maybe one day she’d find out.
“Hi, Logan,” she said, suddenly feeling shy. “This is Abby Saunders. I just called a couple of the men on my list from the dating service and was wondering if you’d phoned anyone else. If you want to talk and share a laugh, give me a call.”
Hanging up, she headed for her room to change into her running clothes. She was the new, improved Abby, she reminded herself. She wasn’t going to wait by the phone for any man to call her back. Five minutes later, she locked the door to her apartment and went for a run with Buster.
The bar had been robbed less than fifteen minutes ago. Three police cruisers and an ambulance were parked out front, and customers were standing on the sidewalk in the weak glow of a nearby streetlight as detectives interviewed the witnesses. Finding a parking place across the street, Logan recognized Tim Bradly, one of the detectives, and headed straight for him.
Surprised to see him, Tim growled, “What are you doing here, St. John? You don’t usually cover the penny-ante stuff. Must be a slow night.”
“You would know that better than I, Bradly,” he retorted with a grin. “You’re the cop.”
Tim swore good-naturedly. “Don’t give me that bull. You’ve got the same scanner I do. Half the time, you beat me to a crime scene.”
“Just