Blind-Date Bride. Jillian HartЧитать онлайн книгу.
like you think I’m not.”
“It did occur to me. You might rather go to a ball game or, wait, a car racetrack.”
“I don’t approve of speeding.” He gave her his best grin. He didn’t know why he was talking to this woman. Okay, maybe he did. She was adorable with big violet-blue eyes and a sweetheart’s smile. But that wasn’t why he had sat down at her table. There was something more to her, something he couldn’t place his finger on. “The problem was that every time she talked, she mentioned weddings.”
“I get it. You’re a guy who doesn’t believe in commitment, right?”
“Hey, wait a minute. You’re leaping fast to all the wrong conclusions about me.”
“Am I?” She folded a stray strand of light blond hair behind her ear. She had an elegant way of moving, and he liked the combination of casual elegance and nice, hometown girl. Not that he believed in appearances, not with his job. As a detective, he had learned the hard way that no one is what they seemed to be. But he liked thinking it was possible to find a truly sweet woman who was as nice and as guileless as her smile. Not that he believed it.
“I’m one of the good guys. Or I try to be.” That was the truth. He tried as hard as he knew how to walk that narrow straight line. Not easy in this world. “Anyway, I’m with my buddy, his wife and her best friend and I’m on my best behavior. Trying to be suave, you know, impress the lady.”
“Did it work?”
“Nope. Talking and walking was beyond me that day. I ran into a garbage can, a utility pole, miscalculated in the crowd and stepped on the back of my date’s shoe, pitching her forward into the sheep tent.”
“Was she okay? How did the sheep handle it?”
“I didn’t know something harmless and innocent could ram a gate so hard. I got her out of the way just in time, but she had sprained her ankle and cut her hand.” He shook his head. Why was he admitting this? “See, we all have bad dates. But I recovered.”
“Oh, so she forgave you and went on a second date?”
“No, no second dates yet, but I keep hoping.”
“You told me a story to make me feel better, didn’t you? That didn’t really happen. I can’t see it.” Her gaze raked over him, as if she were sizing him up and making her own judgments on his character. “I’m sure women fall at your feet.”
“Only unless I trip them accidentally.” He rolled his eyes. “To be fair, I haven’t done that before or since, but I use it as a yardstick to measure my long string of date failures against. No matter how bad things are, it’s nowhere near as bad as that date turned out.”
“Turned out? You mean there’s more to the story?” She leaned forward expectantly.
Call him a fool, but he couldn’t resist making her smile a little more. She was striking, not just beautiful, and totally wholesome. Maybe it was the soft pink sweater she wore. With her blond hair and blue eyes, she looked like a storybook princess. Not that he was searching for that, but a guy liked to believe somewhere there was goodness in the world, that someone somewhere was good through and through.
He felt like a fool, but he went on with the tale. What was his dignity next to seeing the hint of sadness gone from her face? “The final straw was when I slipped down two bleacher steps when we stopped to watch the roping competition. She suddenly remembered an appointment and ran in terror.”
“From the looks of you, I never would have suspected you were such a scary dude.”
“Frightening.” He felt comfortable with her, right off. That was something he never felt around a woman. Maybe because he wasn’t actually dating her.
Then it hit him. He knew what had been bugging him about her. He’d seen her before. The snapshot flashed into his head. He saw the image of her face but without the smile and the warmth of laughter in her eyes. Her hair had been shorter then, hanging straight and lifeless, thoroughly wet from the rain. Brianna had been a crime victim. He’d worked on part of the case last summer.
The door opened on a gust of cool air and the chime above jangled, cutting through his thoughts. He felt a tingle on the back of his neck, as if someone was looking him over. In walked a tall, well-tailored woman. Her thin leather briefcase was tucked beneath her arm and her designer suit skirt swirled tastefully around her slender calves.
She crooked one penciled eyebrow in silent question.
If this lady was Alice, then Dobbs had gotten it wrong again. Best go deal with this. “I guess I had better go see if that’s my date.”
“Sure, you don’t want someone like that getting away.”
With a wink, he rose from the chair, taking his regrets with him. Only when he really knew to look for them did he see the shadows in Brianna’s eyes.
Her smile was genuine as she gave him a finger wave. “She’s pretty. She could be The One. Here’s hoping.”
Hope? He would need more than that. He was going to need Providence to see him through a piece of cake and a cup of decaf with the woman who should be right for any man, but he knew in his gut if that woman was Alice, she couldn’t be more wrong for him.
He gave Brianna a nod for goodbye and let his feet take him toward the woman waiting for him at the counter.
Chapter Two
“I’m sorry,” Brandilyn whispered as she paused on her way by, carrying a loaded tray. “I had hoped he was Billy.”
“Tall, dark and rugged isn’t my type.” Brianna put down her book, gathered up her empty plate, fork and tea things. She may as well clear her own table and save her twin a little bit of work.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Max. Apparently the woman wasn’t Alice, but he had ordered a beverage anyway and had retreated to the only empty table in the bakery, which happened to be in the far corner. Totally her luck. He had pulled a book out of his jacket pocket—not that she was watching or anything, but she couldn’t help noticing.
And so did the blond woman who was not Alice. She sat at a table alone, too, but across the aisle from Max. Not Alice kept making eye contact and smiling at him.
Of course, Bree didn’t blame the woman one bit. They made a handsome couple. His dark good looks and her golden ones. The woman was perfect. She had a delicate beauty and impeccable accessorizing skills. Her shoes, hose and purse matched her designer-label outfit. She was probably exactly what Max went for. Good for her.
“I thought that was exactly the kind of man you were looking for.” Her sister wasn’t easily fooled.
“Maybe I should leave the looking to God.”
“You’re right, but it’s hard to wait.”
Waiting was the story of her life. She said goodbye to her twin and slipped into her coat. It was March and while the day had been sunny, the dusk was approaching and with it the chilly night. She slung her pink plaid backpack over one shoulder, bussed her dishes and headed out. She kept her eyes on the door and then on the parking lot. She didn’t want to catch accidental sight of Max.
Ever since the robbery last summer when she’d very nearly lost her life, she’d had a hard time feeling anything. Sometimes it was as if her heart had simply turned off. Other times, she felt too much, like now.
Some days it was best to be numb. Her shoes tapped against the concrete sidewalk and the wind pressed like ice against her face and bare hands. She hated walking alone. It didn’t matter that the parking lot was well lit or in perfect view of the bakery. She fished her keys out of her coat pocket and held them ready. She tucked the mini can of pepper spray attached to her key ring in her palm. Probably totally unnecessary in this small city, but she felt better, stronger, as she tapped through the fading daylight.
See,