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

“By taking my mind off mine? I don’t think so.” He didn’t tell her she was distraction enough. “How about stopping for something to eat?” He was reluctant to let the evening end although he didn’t know why.

“No, thanks. I’ve had enough excitement for one evening.” She wasn’t exactly sarcastic, but she made her point.

“Coffee then?” He knew he was a glutton for punishment.

“I don’t think so.”

“I’m pretty busy at work,” he said, slightly miffed by her refusal, “but I can be free next Saturday.”

“Free?” She seemed distracted as she got into the truck.

“To meet someone. You know, a date to pay off your wager,” he said, after climbing in on his side.

“I’m surprised the barflies back there didn’t interest you.”

“You think bimbos are my type?” She’d scored a point there.

“No, I guess not, but in high school you did—”

“That was ten years ago. Even the Bailey boys have to grow up eventually.” He wasn’t so sure about Zack, though.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“That’s okay.” He was still disgruntled, but he wanted to close the deal on the blind dates. “Maybe one date Saturday and another Sunday.”

“How many friends do you expect me to serve up?”

He didn’t miss the distaste in her voice, and he felt like squirming on the seat of the truck. But she’d lost the pool match, and he wasn’t going to let her welch on the bet.

“Even though I won, I’ll be more than happy to give you a tour of the factory,” he offered, hoping to soften her resistance.

“And a sneak preview of the new product line?”

If seeing a bunch of baby stuff would make her less reluctant to help him, it was a small price to pay—even though it meant deluding his grandfather into thinking he cared a rat’s ass about the business. He couldn’t show the new line without going to his mother, and she was sure to mention it to the almighty chairman of the board, Marsh Bailey. Damn, life was complicated for a guy who only wanted to build houses.

“Yes, a sneak preview,” he promised. “I’ve heard about a baby-wipe warmer that plays a lullaby. And remember how happy my mom will be if I finally meet some nice girls.”

“I suppose anyone you’d go out with has to be good-looking,” Tess said.

He’d only managed to mollify her for a minute.

“Not conventionally pretty. I can appreciate an interesting face.” He felt challenged not to sound shallow.

“Tall, short, blond, brunette?”

“Personality is more important.” She was making him sound like the blurbs on women’s magazines by the checkout counter at the supermarket.

“How do you define nice?” she pressed.

“Be reasonable, Tess. It’s not about defining anything. It would be nice if she doesn’t sleep around. Is that nice enough for you?”

“I’ve never really thought about it.”

She sounded so prim he wanted to shock her pants off by planting a good, hard, lip-smacking kiss on her disapproving lips. Wouldn’t that be a good way to scuttle the whole plan? Just make his little matchmaker so mad she’d get him the blind date from hell.

“I’m sure any friend of yours is a good person,” he assured her.

“Except maybe Lucinda,” she said thoughtfully. “That was the worst bridesmaid’s dress in the history of weddings.”

He laughed in agreement. “But you did look cute with those curls.”

She slapped his thigh. A little gasp told him she’d acted on impulse and surprised herself.

“One of the deadly duo in the bar slapped my butt as we were leaving,” he said, wanting her to know women stepped out of line as often as men, herself included.

The high moral ground was a sweet perch, he discovered. He wasn’t sure whether his comment would help or hurt his cause, but even in the dark he could tell Tess’s cheeks had flushed apple red.

3

WHEN SHE’D HAD the chance to play pool with Cole Bailey, why didn’t she play for stakes that were fun? She thought of male pool players’ favorite come-on, a bet to see who made coffee the next morning, not that she still had a thing for one of the bad-boy Bailey twins.

Tess continued glumly rearranging the display of Kozy Kountry bedding and accessories, not one of the best merchandising decisions she’d ever made. Baby Mart customers hadn’t snatched up the comforters quite the way she’d hoped, not surprising since the cow looked more comatose than cute. One thing she’d learned early on—it didn’t really matter that infants could see black and white better than pastels. The product had to appeal to grandparents and other gift-givers. That meant adorable designs and clever gimmicks.

She really wanted a jump on Bailey’s new line so she could stock the most promising items ahead of her competition. But she was having a hard time convincing herself it was worth finding a date—or maybe even several dates—for Cole. A little winged cupid would make a cute quilt design, but she couldn’t see herself in the role.

The big question was, who, who, who? Even her friend Mandy, who was practically paranoid about blind dates, might be tempted to go out with Cole, but Tess had even less enthusiasm for matchmaking than she did for dopey-looking cows that weren’t selling. And she hadn’t even had the presence of mind to put a limit on the number of dates she was willing to arrange. Her choice would have been zero, but as her sister, Karen, had pointed out when she talked it over with her on the phone, at least Tess would get to see Cole again herself.

Did she want to stay in contact with him at any price? Her saner self said forget it, but she’d had such a wild crush on him in high school, she didn’t want him to disappear again without giving her a chance to see how wrong she’d been to idolize him. Face it, she’d been using him as a standard ever since, and it was time to get him out of her system for good. Certainly this matchmaking scheme would do the job. She hated it already.

She slapped another red label with a reduced price over a cow’s lolling tongue and thought about the way Cole had plagued her in high school. He’d been a stinker but so cute she’d welcomed any attention from him, even his devilish teasing. She’d had a tremendous crush on him but had never deluded herself into believing they’d ever be a couple. Cole dated cheerleaders and party girls who, if not exactly brainless, were definitely dedicated to having a good time.

Imagine, Cole Bailey wanted her to find a woman for him. He had a pretty vague idea of what made a girl nice, though. Thank heavens she’d fully recovered from her girlish infatuation! Cole had walked away from the women in the bar, but she was still convinced boys like Cole grew into men who were heartbreakers. Reformed or not, he wasn’t going to make her suffer the pangs of unrequited love again.

Already he had her thinking like the heroine in a Victorian romance novel. So he was gorgeous, lean, hard-bodied and darkly handsome. She could see men like that any day for the price of a movie ticket. The person she’d like to meet had to be sweet and reliable, a good companion for the long haul. She wasn’t a love-struck adolescent easily impressed by a good-looking exterior.

Oh, he’d be easy to fix up, she thought crossly as she finished marking down the slow sellers in the baby-bedding display, but she didn’t want to set up any of her friends for a big disappointment. Cole might think he wanted a nice girl, but how may hearts would he break before he found the right one—if such a person existed? He’d gone this far without committing himself to anyone. She’d expect a cow to wander off one of the quilts before a bad boy like Cole settled down with a nice girl.

Unfortunately, she’d lost the bet. Cole had distracted her in the first game—had he ever! But she’d blown the third and decisive one on her own. It was too late to complain about his underhanded tactics. Anyway, she’d never admit to him that having his arms around her had ruined her concentration.

She owed him, but she hated to put any of her friends at risk. Should she issue a medicine-bottle warning with every offer of a date? Beware—this hunk may be dangerous if taken seriously. If she did, who would accept?

If she flashed a picture of Cole, every single friend she had would beg for the opportunity to go out with him. Maybe she could lay a high-school yearbook on the coffee table and casually point out his senior class picture. He’d only improved with maturity.

Much as she hated to admit it, her big sister had been right about one other thing. Not only did she owe Cole for losing an admittedly foolish bet on pool, but he’d gotten her out of an embarrassing situation with Freddy at the wedding. He probably would’ve moved in on her like a snake after a mouse—her least favorite scenario.

Her clerk, Heather, was busy showing car seats to a customer, so Tess stayed out front. She spotted a petite blond woman flipping through a rack of infant outfits and hurried over to offer assistance.

“Tess, how are you?” the woman asked when she turned and recognized her.