One Bride Too Many: One Bride Too Many / One Groom To Go

“Are we in trouble for sneaking into the lab?”

“We didn’t sneak.”

“Of course not, but I’ll pass up any more tours of Bailey Baby Products, not to sound ungrateful.”

She didn’t want to hear about his date, but eventually she’d run out of inane chatter.

“Next time you set me up,” he said, plopping down on the couch, “I’d prefer it’s with someone you know better.”

He dipped into the metal mixing bowl of popcorn without invitation.

“Help yourself.”

“Oh, do you mind?”

She didn’t mind sharing her popcorn. She strenuously objected to arranging dates for him.

“You may remember, I didn’t set you up with Jillian. You engineered that.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“So, didn’t you have fun?”

She couldn’t pretend to be sorry. There was something about Jillian that was too perfect.

“I don’t want to talk about it. What are you watching?”

“Bride of Frankenstein.”

“That about sums up my evening.”

“That bad?” She had this terrible guilt-producing reaction—glee.

“Have some more popcorn,” she offered.

“No, thanks. We had a big dinner, surf and turf at Trocadero’s.”

“You do a first date right. Didn’t she like it?”

“I guess she did. That’s not the problem.”

“What is?”

She stopped the VCR. She owned the tape and could watch it anytime. Truth to tell, he looked so glum the date had to have been interesting…to her.

“We went back to her apartment afterward.”

“Horrors,” she said dryly, not at all sure she wanted the intimate details.

“For coffee and lemon bars.”

“Exactly what I thought,” she lied.

He was dressed in tan pants and a black knit shirt that highlighted rippling muscles and dark, broody eyes. If Jillian had blown the date with Cole, her head had to be stuffed with sawdust.

“She slipped into something more comfortable—a fuzzy white robe shorter than my undershirts and fur-ball slippers that went plop, plop, plop.”

“A girl has to relax sometime. So you had coffee and dessert. She can’t make drinkable coffee? Her lemon bars were sour and soggy?”

“No, they both were perfect.”

“Of course, perfect. Why are you here, Cole? Do you have something to complain about?”

“You’ve never been to her place, right?”

“Right, she’s only an acquaintance. I hardly know her at all.”

“She has wall-to-wall…” He took a deep breath. “Stuffed animals.”

“Stuffed as in taxidermy?”

“No, the kind kids play with—plush bears and giraffes all over the furniture, dogs and kittens in wicker chairs, a duck, a whale, even a fuzzy turtle. There wasn’t any place to sit without an avalanche of toy animals plummeting down on my head.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“No.” He shook his head solemnly. His hair tumbled in spikes over his forehead, and she wanted to comb them back with her fingers. Maybe that was the point of the styling.

“When we got to her door, she warned me to be quiet so we wouldn’t wake the babies.”

“I didn’t know she was a single mother.”

“She isn’t. She’s a loony who talks baby talk to inanimate objects. Baby talk!”

Tess laughed…and laughed some more. Even when her ribs started to ache, she couldn’t stop laughing at the expression on his face.

“I knew nobody could be as perfect as she seems,” she said by way of explanation when his glum expression finally dulled her mirth.

“I didn’t come here for sympathy,” he said caustically. “I’m calling in your marker. You still owe me some introductions.”

“Some! I understood one before we played, and you met Jillian in my store. She counts.”

“I didn’t get any help from you.”

“I vouched for you.”

“Whatever that means. You still owe me.”

“If you’re serious about this…”