“Right on the precipice. I would rethink your plan if you want to birth at least two children. You do want children, right?”
Another small moan. “Yes, I’ve always dreamed of having children.”
Finally. A woman who knew what she wanted. He relaxed. “Me, too. I think we have similar philosophies. It’s been a tough night, but I’m glad we finally met. I think I’m supposed to wait till the end, but since this worked out so well, how about dinner Friday night?”
Ding.
The woman pressed a trembling hand to her mouth. She blinked rapidly. Were those tears? What was going on?
He opened his mouth to question her, but a vision in hot pink swarmed into his line of sight.
Dream woman.
She was even more stunning close up. Her lips held just a touch of glossy moisture, and his nostrils kicked in at the scent of sandalwood and cinnamon. She laid a hand on Bernadette’s arm and whispered something in her ear. Bernadette nodded, swiped at her eyes, and stood up. Dream woman patted her back, pointed her in the other direction, and watched her walk away.
“Hey, we were setting up a date.”
Dream woman swung around and met his gaze head on.
He stilled. Those golden eyes sucked him in deep and held on tight. He struggled for breath, entranced by the white-hot heat and fury beating from her in waves. Deliberately, she placed her palms flat on the table and leaned in.
“I want to talk to you.”
His spirits perked up. “Great. Did the clock start?”
“Forget the clock. I need to finish up a few things and then I’d like to have a chat. I’ll meet you at the diner next door in ten minutes.”
No way. She was interested in him? Odd, she looked a bit intense for having just asked him out, but he’d go anywhere with her. Maybe this horrific night would turn out alright. “Don’t I need to fill out my request sheet first?”
Was it possible she looked even more furious? Her expression fascinated him, all sharp angles and soft skin. Funny, if you took away each of her features, it seemed as if her face was too big for her body, but when put together, she had movie-star looks. Like Julia Roberts. A long, gazelle-like structure, highly cut cheekbones, thick brows, huge eyes. “I’m sure that sheet won’t be needed. I’ll see you at the diner.”
She pulled back, swiveled on her four-inch pink heels, and disappeared into the crowd.
Ned dumped the sheet. Other than Bernadette, the event had been a bust. But his date with Dream Woman was everything he’d hoped for. Who needed long term if he could enjoy her for one perfect night? He’d have just enough time to pop another breath mint and rub a tissue over his orange face to see if he could lighten it up.
Ned headed toward the diner.
two
KENNEDY SIPPED HER coffee and studied the walking disaster across the table.
It took a while to calm down her client, but she’d convinced poor Bernadette that the man was joking and then hooked her up with Brian, who’d been making moony eyes at her all night. Speed-dating events were a bit . . . touchy. Some clients loved the quick pace and even quicker decision making. Many thrived on sheer dating stress and adrenaline, rising to the top and scoring the best overall first impression.
Others tanked.
Like this guy.
She took her time and let him stew. He probably thought he was going to score with her, but she had a completely different intention for this meeting. As the top recruiter and makeover expert at the Kinnections matchmaking agency, she’d come across various types of men and learned the fine art of patience. She helped them find true love by using a mixture of encouragement, motivation, empathy, and teaching behavior modification.
But this bozo had broken all the rules, and she wasn’t allowing him back into society without an attempt to protect future women. The harsh lights of the diner emphasized the garish tone to his skin. Dear God, he was a living Dorito. He waited patiently for her to speak, but she noticed he grabbed a few napkins to wipe down the white Formica counter before settling his elbows on the edge. Great, a germaphobe to boot. “What’s your name?” she asked.
“Ned.”
“Hi, Ned, I’m Kennedy. Can I ask you a question?”
“You can ask me anything.”
“What did you hope to accomplish tonight?”
He blinked behind thick black-framed glasses. Usually, she loved a good designer frame with a funky style, but these were just wrong. Oversize, squared, they dominated his face and swallowed his eyes. “I don’t understand. I’m looking to meet a woman who’s right for me.”
“I see. Do you usually approach strange women with the same questions you fired off at Bernadette?”
His unibrow hiked up alarmingly, scaring her. Her fingers itched for a wax strip. “I was getting to know her. I thought we were connecting.”
She tapped a nail against the chipped mug. “You thought you were connecting? You insulted her, zapped her confidence, and instilled a fear of being alone and childless for the rest of her life. Did you honestly consider that meeting a success?”
He jerked back and shook his head in confusion. “No, I didn’t mean to do that. I was being direct.”
“Age and weight are two sacred items never to be discussed. They’re the Holy Grail of silence, Ned. Didn’t you know that?”
He ran his fingers through his hair. The shaggy brown strands hung almost to his shoulders and covered most of his face. Kennedy wondered if he ever visited a hair salon. There was no cut or attempt at a fashionable style. He reminded her of a neglected sheepdog. “Yes, of course, I know about that. I completely forgot because I was upset. I dealt with twenty sessions of torture by women who only focused on money, date destinations, or how many planes I owned.”
“You own a plane?”
“No, that’s the point! I thought the goal of this thing was to find a woman with similar philosophies, but all they cared about was money.”
She studied him more closely. He seemed genuinely upset and didn’t give off the creepoid vibe she expected to find. His orange hands wrapped around his coffee mug as if seeking comfort. The white lab coat looked ridiculous paired with pants straight from the eighties. A shiny khaki material that hung loose on his hips and displayed no pockets or discernible form. The large, smeared coffee spot in the middle of his chest reminded her of the barking stain commercial. This man needed to carry a tube of Tide to Go.
But it was the pocket protector that gave it away.
Oh yeah. Major nerd. From the glasses to the clothes to the poor social conversation, this man screamed, Help me. Could he be genuine? Curiosity piqued. “What are you looking for? To get laid? A few dates?”
He straightened his shoulders. A loose thread dangled from the lab coat. “I want to find a wife.”
“Why?”
He never flinched. Just met her gaze with a directness that surprised her. “I’m tired of being alone. My career has come first for the past decade. I’m not interested in a parade of women who aren’t interested in settling down. I want a family. Companionship. Is that too much to ask?”
He put down the coffee and flexed his fingers. She noticed his nails were bitten to the max. Frustration shot from him in waves. It was rare to discover a man so focused on marriage. Normally, she’d do a victory dance and sign the guy up for Kinnections on the spot. Too bad he didn’t seem to have a clue. Maybe he just needed some advice.
“There’s nothing wrong with that goal, but people need a bit of the dance first. A hint of flirtation. A give-and-take of conversation to build trust. That leads to a first real date.”