Bachelor Number Four (4 page)

She clicked the
compose
button and started typing as the program collected her incoming messages. A small red number five appeared on top of her email icon.

She paused in typing her note to Lida to see what had come in. “Junk, junk, junk…oh!” The gasp tumbled from her lips and made her feel foolish, and her hand jerked so the mouse no longer highlighted the fourth message.

It was from Shane.

She took a deep breath to calm herself, then clicked through to her Connex account to read the message.

Hey, nice to hear from you. I saw the notice in the paper about your shop. Looks good. Give me a shout some time. S.

“Don’t overanalyze it,” she whispered, but, of course, did just that. She read the message several times, but couldn’t convince herself of any hidden meaning in the innocuous words. And she shouldn’t expect any, she scolded. Her note to him had been just as bland. But what could she have sent instead?

Hey, Shane, just wondering if you’re still available and interested in a fuck buddy? Stupidly yours, Arden.

Her words to Aislin flew back at her. She had meant them. And yet, her memories of Shane, naked in candlelight, sent a shiver through her powerful enough to peak her nipples even now.

Her fingers moved on the keyboard, crafting her reply.

I’m glad you wrote back. I saw your company’s website. It looks very successful. Congratulations.

Signing it with only her initial gave the letter the same casual feeling as his, though she felt anything but casual about sending it.

She sent the message and sat back, her heart still thumping. She shook her head at her foolishness and returned to her note to Lida, keeping her Connex page open at the side. She’d only typed a few words when a red one appeared on the Connexmail icon at the top of the page. Curious, she minimized her email to Lida, then sat back in her chair, a wide grin on her face.

He was online. She clicked on the message, sent only moments after getting hers. The note was brief, and again her eyes scanned it multiple times, trying to glean any hidden meaning behind the words.

Yeah, the business is doing well. It keeps me out of trouble
.

No signature, not even an initial, this time. She looked over the words once more, then crossed her arms over her chest while she stared at the screen. Contemplating.

Shane had been a master of innuendo and double entendre, of veiled meaning and subtle invitation. She’d also known him to be blunt to the point of being shocking. The trouble was, she’d never learned how to anticipate which approach he’d take.

She typed fast, so as not to give herself too much time to think.
Glad to hear you’re staying out of trouble. It’s nice to see you’re doing something that makes you happy.

Send.
She went back to Lida’s note, but her fingers stuttered so much on the keys she misspelled every other word. She tried to pretend she was not looking at the Connexmail icon every few seconds, but she was.

Her program was set up to automatically collect mail every five minutes, but she had no idea how often Connexmail refreshed. Besides, not even two minutes had passed. Could she refresh the entire page? That would be desperate. That would be stupid. If he
was
going to reply tonight, surely she could wait another few minutes.

“Oh, you bugger,” she muttered as she refreshed her browser window, and no new messages appeared.

Again, she opened her email to Lida and tried to type. Maybe he went offline. There was no reason to think he’d waited for her reply. Maybe he’d just happened to answer her so fast from coincidence, and now he was offline. Doing something else, like she should be doing, instead of waiting like a high school girl for the phone to ring…

A small red number one appeared.

She kept her fingers firm on the keyboard and forced herself to finish typing Lida’s note. She read it over to make sure she had been semi-coherent and hadn’t made any more glaring spelling errors. Satisfied she wouldn’t be sending anything embarrassing, she clicked
Send
.

Now she could turn her attention to the new message in her Connex inbox. Arden hesitated before clicking on it, but it took her only three seconds to read what it said.

Who said I was happy?

No mistaking the helluva lot of potential meaning in that. Arden stared at the words, pondering how to reply. He’d left it wide open for her. There was no good way for her to construe that as anything but a leading statement. The question was, what was he leading her to?

You’re not happy? That’s too bad
, she typed and sent.

She ought to go to bed. It was now nearing eleven, and the morning would come way too early. She stared at the computer screen so long it flickered and began to disintegrate into the screen saver again. She tapped the keyboard to stop the swirling colors. Still no new messages.

“Stupid,” she muttered and minimized the browser window. “Go to bed, Arden. He’s not going to answer tonight.”

She had some invoices to catch up on though, and a few items she wanted to check out online. It couldn’t hurt to surf the Net for a few more minutes. She could finish up the last bit of work so she didn’t have to do it tomorrow at the shop. She could spend more time sewing that way. Rationalize it, she told herself, but knowing what she was doing didn’t stop her from doing it.

She opened her documents and typed up a few orders, a couple of invoices, and deleted some old correspondence she no longer needed. Then she did a few searches on some items she was looking to buy for the shop, made a few price comparisons, picked what she could afford, and ordered what she needed.

Still no Connexmail.

“Give it up,” she said. “Go to bed!”

And, just before she told the computer to go into sleep mode, that magic red number appeared at the top of the window.

Arden read the message with narrowed eyes.

I didn’t say I wasn’t. I just said who said I was?

Let the games begin, she thought. Her anticipation soured. Now he was toying with her, something she’d always hated about him. At least now she knew which way he was going, and it wasn’t blunt and to the point. She’d changed, though. Once upon a time she’d been willing to toss the verbal ball back and forth, but now that sort of sparring only left a bad taste in her mouth.

“I’m past playing games,” Arden said to the screen and, with resolve, she deleted his message and all the ones before it. Then she put the computer to sleep and went upstairs to do the same.

Chapter Three

“Could this place be any louder?” Lida grimaced, then shouted toward her son, “Way to go, Henry!”

The boy’s grin was a perfect replica of his mother’s as he turned and did a victory dance. “I got a strike!”

“Good job!” Lida turned back to Arden. “They must amplify the noise on purpose so we go to the bar to self-medicate our headaches.”

Arden laughed and clapped as Maeve followed Henry. “It’s not that bad.”

Lida pushed the plate of fries toward her. “Maybe I’m just getting old. Here. Clog your arteries.”

Dipping a fry in ketchup, Arden waved toward Aislin as the girl took her turn. Her two girls were having a blast with Lida’s three boys and Heather’s daughter Elyse. While none of the kids looked likely to break a hundred on the score, they were all having fun.

“They’re so cute,” Arden said.

“Cute, schmoot. Tell me about your date.”

“There’s not much to tell beyond what I wrote last night. It was pretty much a disaster.”

Heather looked up from tying Elyse’s shoe, then scooted the girl back into the game. “She might know already, but I don’t. Spill the beans already.”

Heather had been divorced for over a year. Elyse had been in Aislin’s swimming class last year, when Arden was a brand-new widow. They’d both been prone to awkward bouts of tears in public, which had immediately endeared them to each other. Thankfully, they’d both passed that stage, but if there was anyone besides Lida who could appreciate the story about Brian, it would be Heather. Arden outlined the spur-of-the-moment date, the awkward dinner, the uncomfortable ending. Heather laughed.

“Typical guy. Puts a price on dinner like he’s saved your life. Like a burger and fries should be worth at least a handjob, right?”

Lida laughed. “Oh, brother. With women it’s a whole different story. I tell my husband, ‘Honey, the biggest turn-on you can give me would be the sight of you running the vacuum cleaner’.”

The three women laughed, but Arden shook her head. “Brian was very cute, and it’s not like I’m looking for an immediate boyfriend. What made me mad was his assumption that I’ve been leading him on. Like somehow being nice to a guy means I’m desperate for a man.”

“Aren’t you?” Lida laughed again at Arden’s rolling eyes. “C’mon. I don’t mean for a man, necessarily…but for a
may-un
.” The emphasis made her meaning clear.

Arden looked over at her daughters. “I told you, Lida. That’s not me.”

Lida followed her gaze, and her expression softened while she patted Arden’s hand. “I know. I’m only half kidding. The other half thinks you should gussy yourself up and head down to the bar on karaoke night, find yourself some young, hot college guy and let him rock your world.”

Arden burst into laughter. “Oh, that’s so likely to happen.”

“It’s not so unlikely.” Heather washed down her mouthful of fries with some cola. “The cutest boy
ever
mows my lawn. It sounds like a cliché, very Mrs. Robinson, but hell-o! That boy is to-die-for cute, very flirtatious. If I didn’t have Leo, I’d seriously consider taking him up on what he’s been offering me all summer.”

“Get out of here.” Arden looked more closely at her friend. “You’re not kidding?”

Heather shook her head. “No way. His name is Jordan, and he is Fine with a capital F.”

“Doesn’t do Arden any good,” Lida pointed out. “Henry, it’s Maeve’s turn next. Don’t you give me that look!”

“What kind of guy are you interested in?” Heather got up to referee the scuffle that had broken out between the girls and the boys, giving Arden time to imagine dark hair, blue eyes and attitude.

What she said, instead, was, “I don’t know, I guess.”

Heather grabbed some more fries. “I’m asking because there’s a nice guy who works in Doug’s office. His fiancée left him at the altar about three months ago.”

“Sounds like a winner.”

Lida chuckled. “Why’d she leave him? What’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing that I know of,” Heather said. “He seems like a nice guy. I think she ran off with an old boyfriend or something.”

“Ugh.” Arden watched Maeve and Aislin take their turns. “I don’t know, Heather. A blind date? That’s like something from a bad romcom.”

“You don’t have to marry him. I just thought if you wanted to get your feet wet in the dating pool, so to speak, you might be interested. His name is Greg. He’s about thirty.”

“Too young!”

“Oh Arden, that’s only a little younger than you.” Lida scoffed. “Is he cute?”

“Sandy blond, blue eyes, nice build.” Heather shrugged. “He’s put on a bit of weight, but he’s not fat or anything. Decent sense of humor.”

“How do you even know he’s interested in going out?” Arden demanded.

“Because he’s always moaning about how there aren’t any decent women in the world who aren’t married already.”

“Ah.” Arden sipped her soda and gave Lida a look. “Oh, all right. What the hell, right?”

The women laughed. Heather gave Arden an around-the-shoulder squeeze. Lida waggled her eyebrows.

“Try not to break his heart,” she said.

“So…” Arden trailed off, looking at the menu while she tried to think of something to say. Greg hadn’t stopped staring at her since the moment she’d introduced herself to him. She could still feel his eyes burning a hole in the top of her head. “The garlic and olive oil pasta looks good.”

“Garlic makes me bloat.”

Startled at such an intimate revelation, Arden looked up. “Oh. Um. Well, maybe you’d better stay away from the pasta then.”

Greg glanced at his own menu. “I’m going to order the low-carb special. I’m trying to watch my carbs.”

“Ah.” Arden looked again at the menu, still feeling his intense gaze on her. “I think I’ll try the grilled chicken salad.”

With that decided, she put aside the menu and sipped from her iced tea. The lunch crowd at the restaurant was bustling and a bit noisy, but since Greg wasn’t saying anything, she didn’t have to strain to hear him. Arden tapped another sugar packet into her glass and squeezed a few more drops of lemon, though the tea had been fine before. Anything to keep her hands busy.

If I look up and he’s still staring…

“Heather says you’re a seamstress.”

Relief that he’d finally chosen to have a conversation made Arden answer too brightly. “Yes. Yep. Sure am. You betcha!”

Great, now she sounded like Mistress Mary Twinkle-Sparkle. She smiled at Greg, her teeth gritted. His return smile seemed forced.

“My ex liked to knit.”

Arden sighed inside, but kept up her smile. “Really? I never learned how.”

“She used to make me scarves.”

“Ah.”

Greg drank from his glass. Water dribbled over his chin and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. His gaze still pierced her. “I didn’t expect you to be so pretty.”

“What?” Arden tucked her hair behind her ears. “Oh, well. Thanks.”

“Heather told me you were pretty, but I didn’t believe her. I mean, I didn’t think you’d really be pretty. But you are.”

“Um…lucky…you?” Arden’s laugh sounded hollow.

Greg didn’t smile. “She didn’t tell you I was cute, did she?”

He sounded so sure she’d say no that Arden felt compelled to answer, “Of course she did.”

Greg sighed. “She told you what happened to me, didn’t she? How Jennifer ran off with her ex the day we were supposed to get married?”

Ouch.
“Yes. She told me. I’m sorry, Greg.”

Another sigh lifted his shoulders. “It’s okay. I guess I should be past it by now.”