My Dream Man (8 page)

Friday night was all I could think about for the rest of the week. I picked out a great outfit, planned how I’d style my hair, settled on a nail polish color. I wondered if I should buy a new bra and panty set, then dismissed the idea. Then I exercised my woman’s prerogative and changed my mind. It couldn’t hurt to be prepared, just in case.

I poked around Victoria’s Secret but didn’t see anything that appealed to me. I ended up checking Nordstrom, and it was there that I struck gold. There were so many choices it made me dizzy. Granted, some of the stuff was pricey, but I could afford it. Besides, I wanted to look my best for my dream man.

After browsing I bought a couple different sets and went home. I felt bad Tabby wasn’t along since I knew how much she loved shopping, but this wasn’t the type of thing you did with your little sister. I mean, we’d jumped rope together. I’d helped her with homework. It didn’t feel right to ask her which lingerie made me look sexiest.

On the drive home, I remembered something my mom had said about the last time she’d ordered lingerie from a catalog. She was so disappointed when it arrived. I had asked her if it was bad quality, and she said no. She had liked how it looked on the model, but on her, well, it just wasn’t the same.

My mom looked great for her age. Not many forty-seven-year-olds were as slim as she was. But I knew exactly what she meant when she said aging was a bitch. I saw that firsthand with my patients.

On Tuesday I saw Mr. Varo again. And once again I spent an inordinate amount of time trying to look nice in case Greg was home, but when I got there he was still at work.

“How are you feeling this week Michael?” He didn’t seem to be in great spirits.

“Oh. You know. My blood sugar is a little higher than it should be, and I’m having some issues with my foot.”

I took off his sock and noticed a wound. “I’ll clean that and apply a medicated bandage to help it heal.”

Mr. Varo nodded. He was unusually quiet as I went about my business. Once I got him fixed up I asked, “You’re sticking to the diet, right?”

He looked sheepish all of a sudden. “Mostly.”

I frowned. “You know I can’t help much unless you’re committed to doing your part. You want to live to see your grandkids someday, right? To be able to play with them?”

He brightened at the mention of offspring. “Of course. Any chance you’re gonna take care of that for me?”

I grinned. “How about Greg and I go on a date first? See if he even likes me.”

“Oh, he likes you,” Mr. Varo said.

I raised an eyebrow.

“He asked me for your number,” he stated, like that meant we were going to ride off into the sunset together.

“He could’ve just been being nice since I helped out when he was sick.”

Mr. Varo shook his head. “I know my son Sam. He usually walks around here with his head in the clouds, muttering to himself like a madman about data and robots. But he’s been different lately. He’s been bringing you up all the time. He’ll mention something you said or did when you were here. He’s always talking about you.”

I sat up straight and beamed. “He talks about me?”

“Yep.”

“And here I thought he was just taking me out to be polite.”

Mr. Varo laughed. “My son would never do that.”

“Why not?”

He shook his head and smiled. “Because he would think that’s a waste of time. Greg places more value on gaining knowledge than being polite. He’d rather study than watch TV or socialize. And getting him to do either is almost unheard of. So when he asked for your number, I knew he really liked you.”

So it wasn’t a mercy dinner. I was glad I bought expensive lingerie.

Thursday night I did some last minute straightening around the apartment. It wasn’t cluttered. It just wasn’t spotless like Greg’s place. I figured I’d better make sure it looked good in case he came in.

I scheduled all my patients early on Friday so I could get off at two. I wanted to rest for a while before getting ready to go out to dinner. Mrs. Myszkowski was the final appointment of the day.

I began checking her blood pressure. “I followed your advice and it worked,” I said. Hmm…her blood pressure seemed a bit low. I typed the numbers into the laptop.

“You see,” she said, wagging her finger. “I told you. Aren’t you glad you listened?”

“I am. And I’m really looking forward to tonight.”

I checked her pulse, which was normal, and logged it into the computer. Maybe the blood pressure reading had been wrong.

She watched me as I punched in the info. “Everything’s on the computer these days,” she groaned. “What happened to good old fashioned charts?”

“They went bye-bye. This is more efficient.”

“Yeah. Until it all gets lost in a black hole somewhere.”

“Not a big fan of technology, are you?”

“Nope. Except my microwave. I love my microwave. Popcorn in three minutes or less.”

I smiled, listening to her lungs. They sounded as good as could be expected for a woman with emphysema. When I finished she had a concerned look on her face. “You know you shouldn’t sleep with this boy tonight, right?”

Ordinarily I’d tell her it was none of her business, but since I’d gotten her involved, I let her continue. “If you do he’s not going to marry you,” she warned.

“Things have changed Anna. It’s not like the old days.”

“It’s not, huh? Then maybe men have evolved. I wouldn’t bet on that if I was in Vegas, though. Men have been pretty much the same since the dawn of time.”

I finished checking her vitals and packed my things. I wanted a real relationship with Greg. I did know of a few friends who’d slept with the guy the first date. All of them were still single.

I valued Anna’s opinion. Following her advice had been right the first time, and my gut told me to listen to her.

“I’ll take things slow,” I assured her. I hoped I’d be able to keep my word. The way Greg made me feel I wasn’t sure I’d be able to say no.

“Good girl,” she winked. “Keep him wanting and trying. That’s how this works.”

I smiled. She was quickly becoming the cool grandma you wish you had – the wise and worldly one who knew all the secrets to relationship success and knew exactly when to share them. “I really appreciate your advice,” I said.

“If you really meant that I’d be smoking a cigarette right now.”

“You’d only be smoking a cigarette if I didn’t mean it.”

She coughed up a half-smile. “I think I might like you better if you didn’t like me so much,” she said.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I said, offering a sly smile in return. “But in the meanwhile, thanks again.”

When I got home I set the alarm, then climbed in bed to take a nap. After a while, I fell asleep, then drifted into a vivid dream.

It was a wedding dream that began with me walking down the aisle in a white gown, beaming at friends and family who were seated on both sides of the church. When I reached the preacher he shook his head no. Then the joyful wedding song changed to circus music, and as it did the room began to spin. Mrs. Myszkowski was dressed like a clown, her face painted to match. She pointed at me and said, “If you hadn’t been a tramp this wouldn’t be happening.” Mr. Varo sat in the front row next to a row of life-sized robots, wearing a vacant expression. My mom was alone in the front row on the other side, crying. I got dizzy and was about to faint, but Irene the psychic caught me. She pulled me to my feet and said, “I told you so.”

I woke up and glanced around, happy to discover I was safe in my bed. The mind sure played games when under stress. Probably too many opinions on what I should or shouldn’t do freaking me out.

While in the shower I stretched my neck from side to side, letting the tension dissipate. Then when I was done primping I put on my new black lace bra and panties and slipped into the form-fitting dress with heels I’d worn to the dance club. I liked the way I looked. Stylish but sexy.

It was 6:30 pm. I still had time to kill, so I sat on the sofa and tried to relax. I took a few deep breaths. As I inhaled I thought of my fears, and as I exhaled I remembered what Mr. Varo had said, that Greg wouldn’t ask me out if he wasn’t truly interested. I was more nervous than I’d been before any other date. That was the kind of power Greg already had over me.

I smiled, thinking of him that first day in his pajama bottoms and his pink robe. Not many guys could pull that off and still look sexy. When Mr. Varo said he walked around muttering to himself like a madman, I found it odd, but also endearing. Greg was just a deep thinker, probably trying to solve an equation that could be a scientific breakthrough.

Greg’s brain was definitely a part of his appeal. Brian had been good-looking, but lacking in the smarts department. It wasn’t that he was stupid, but he wasn’t intelligent the way Greg was. I sighed, remembering the night of the supermoon. It all came rushing in: his lips pressed against mine, his hands groping me, his…

The doorbell rang. I jumped up and checked my hair in the mirror one last time.

I opened the door. His sandy blondish-brown hair was a little messy, and he wore a pale blue shirt under a light gray V-neck sweater. He had glasses on this time. “Hey Sam,” he said, waving awkwardly. “You look really nice.”

“Thanks,” I said, blushing. I was already acting silly and it was only the first minute. “You’re wearing glasses. Are they new?”

“No. I’ve had them for a while. I wear them while I’m driving. Helps keep the other drivers alive,” he said, then broke into laughter at his own joke. It was a peculiar high-pitched laugh that didn’t match his speaking voice, but still it made me smile.

“Well they look nice.”

“Thanks.” He fixed me with his gaze as his laughter settled into a smile. He oozed sensuality but seemed unaware of it.

I was melting on the inside.

Greg opened the car door for me and let me get in before going around front and climbing in on his side. I liked that. He’d done it with the kitchen chair before too, so I knew chivalry wasn’t part of some carefully-choreographed wooing scheme. It was a real part of his personality.

After he put on his seatbelt he reached for a cloth to clean his glasses, and I couldn’t help but stare as he completed the task. I watched his fingertips move, his brow furrow as he focused on wiping away the smudges. How these simple things could turn me on I didn’t know, but they did.

“All set,” he said, then started the car and began driving. He glanced over at me and said, “You like Italian, right? I forgot to ask. I just assumed.”

“I love it,” I said.

At the first stoplight, he turned and stared at me like he’d done once before, like I was a specimen. No doubt he could easily observe my physical reaction to him. It was impossible to hide.

When we got to the restaurant he asked for a specific table - a quiet one in the corner.

“I did some reconnaissance on this place earlier,” he said as we sat down, “and this table seemed like the best spot for conversational purposes.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but had no words.

He blushed. “I don’t know why I just said all that.”

“Don’t apologize. I like the way you talk.”

He blushed again. We each got a glass of wine and placed our order. I didn’t want to load up on pasta and get bloated so I opted for grilled chicken with a side of spinach. Greg ordered a pasta sampler, and I wondered if he’d scouted the menu earlier, too.

He lifted his wine glass. “To the lady who saved my life.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I said, raising mine. “I only helped a little.”

He sipped from his glass, and the wine stained his lips a darker, luscious red. “The meds weren’t working all that efficiently. It was the human hand that cured me.”

I quietly gulped my mouthful of wine. He was being charming. I couldn’t quite tell if it was something he had to work at, or just a natural ability. Either way I was enjoying every moment of it. It was a pleasant surprise.

Our salads arrived. “If you say so,” I said. The waiter looked at me, thinking I was talking to him, then quickly retreated, realizing his error.

I picked up my fork and poked my lettuce. “You and your dad are funny together. You know that, right?”

“My dad’s awesome,” he said. “I love having him around. And I like to rib him sometimes.”

“He likes to rib you too.”

“Yeah. Like the time he called me out on my food quadrants in front of you. That was especially fun.”

“Is that why you ordered the sampler plate? Hoping for quadrants of food?” I said, trying to keep things light.

“Clearly the salad guy didn’t get the memo. The cucumbers are touching the mushrooms,” he said, smiling. He stabbed one of each and stuffed them into his mouth. I decided then that his awkward charm was natural, not at all rehearsed.

We ate in silence for a few minutes. Then I took another sip of wine and said, “May I ask about your mother?”

Greg’s expression grew somber. He took his napkin and blotted the side of his mouth. “She died of a brain aneurysm right after I graduated high school. For some reason I thought my dad told you.”

“No. I had no idea. I’m so sorry.” I felt terrible I had brought it up. I just assumed his parents were divorced.

“Thanks. It was very sudden. You never know how long you have or what life will bring your way.” The way he looked at me toward the end of the phrase made me think that part was meant for me. His expression seemed…hopeful.

In that glimmer he looked like I felt inside, like I’d been feeling since the day we met.

“You take good care of your dad,” I said, changing the subject.

He shrugged. “I try. He’s the only family I’ve got, so I like to be near him.” He grinned. “He likes to joke that he’s obviously failed as a father since he can’t get rid of his 28-year-old son.”

I started giggling. Surely Greg could afford his own home. “Well, I think it’s sweet that you stick around to help.”

The waiter returned with the main course, and my mind drifted to Tabby. “My sister just went away to college. She left a little early because she found a great deal on an apartment. I already miss her,” I admitted.

“I didn’t know you had a sister,” he said. “What’s her name?”

“Tabitha.”

Greg paused. “Wait a minute. Your name’s Samantha and your sister’s name is Tabitha?”

“I take it you’re familiar with
Bewitched.
My mom clearly was a fan.”

“When I was younger and watched TV, I liked old episodes of
Bewitched
and
I Dream of Jeannie
. But my favorite show was
Star Trek
.”

“Why am I not surprised by that?”

“If you were I’d find it highly illogical,” he said, doing a perfect impression of Spock.

He reached for the bread at the same time I did, and as our hands brushed against each other I felt a spark. It was such a movie cliché. But also proof that some movie clichés are based on truth. I lifted my gaze and noticed his playful expression had returned. I gave him an identical look, and just then the waiter reappeared. “Is everything tasting okay?” he asked.

Greg nodded, and the moment was lost.

Halfway through my meal I was already full. Greg asked if I wanted dessert, but I said no. The truth was I could feel every seam in my figure-hugging dress. I excused myself to use the ladies room, and when I returned he’d already paid the bill.

As we walked back to the car I started considering all the different options of what might come next. Would he drop me off and give me a peck goodnight? Would he want to come in? And if I let him in, would I be able to stick to the Myszkowski plan?

We didn’t talk on the ride home. He had relaxing music playing in the background, not “let’s get it on” stuff, but new age music. The kind you might hear at a spa.

I wished it would relax me.

Greg pulled in front of my place and parked. I waited for him to get out and open my door, but he stayed in his seat. When he didn’t speak I turned toward him. “Is everything okay?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he answered. Then he looked at me, studying me in an analytical fashion. “I was just thinking.”

“About what?” I asked in a soft voice.

He let out one of his odd, high-pitched laughs. “I don’t think you’d really want to know.”

“I do,” I said. “In fact, now I’ve got to know.”

Greg sighed. Then he looked at me again, seeming unsure if he should say what was on his mind. “I was just thinking how nice it would be if we could have sex tonight, but since it’s our first date I realize it’s statistically unlikely.”

My jaw hung open. “Did you really just say that?”

“Um, yeah. I guess I did.” It was dark in the car, but I could tell he was blushing again. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That was totally inappropriate.” Then he got out of the car, came around and opened the door for me, and we walked to the front porch.

I stood opposite him, smiling, then I leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips.

I managed to open the front door even though my hands were trembling, then I stepped inside and turned back to him. “I have something to tell you too.”

He gazed at me, looking incredibly gorgeous, his wild hair lit golden from the streetlight.

“I’ve been dreaming of having sex with you since the first day we met.”

His jaw dropped.

“Night-night,” I whispered. Then I used all the will power I had to slowly close the door in my dream man’s face.