Heartstrings and Diamond Rings (12 page)

Another wasted evening
, she thought, crossing yet one more day of her life off her mental calendar. The older she got, the faster those pages flipped.

She curled up on her sofa and switched on HGTV, where she watched
House Hunters
and imagined that the newlyweds searching for their first home were her and her new husband.
The couple is looking for an early twentieth-century property
, the announcer would say.
They want four bedrooms and a big yard to accommodate the large family they plan to have. They have a budget of one million dollars…

Okay, so the budget part was over the top. But if she was going to daydream, why not daydream big?

Halfway through the first episode, Lucy draped herself over Alison’s lap as if she didn’t have bone in her whole feline body. Ricky lay upside down on the carpet by the sofa, his four white paws in the air, looking like road kill. Ethel lay upright on the sofa at Alison’s feet, her paws and tail tucked so tightly she could have fit neatly inside a meat loaf pan. If another stray kitten did eventually make its way into her life, she only hoped it was a boy. A girl cat named Fred would be really weird.

An hour later, as
House Hunters
came to a close, the blissful TV couple found the historic Chicago townhome with the view of the river they were looking for. Alison wondered if she’d ever have more than her two-bedroom contemporary condo on the commuter rail line in Plano, Texas, which came complete with about three too many cats and one too few husbands. Later she fell asleep on the sofa and dreamed she spent the next five years having conjugal visits with Greg while he did his sentence, only to have him dump her for another woman the day he was finally released.

By midafternoon the next day, Heather had texted her approximately half a dozen times, and for every time she failed to text back, Alison knew her suspicion about the quality of her date grew exponentially. But she couldn’t hide forever, so finally she texted back,
McCaffrey’s at six
.

At six o’clock, they were sitting in a booth at McCaffrey’s, and Alison was telling the story. At two minutes after six, Heather drew back with horror.

“Brandon set you up with a
felon
?” she screeched so loudly she rattled the martini glass in front of her.

“Will you keep your voice down?” Alison said.

“Sorry,” Heather said. “I tend to scream when I’m appalled.”

“I was a little appalled too. You know. At first.”

“At
first
?”

“I mean, I’m still appalled that the guy was a drug dealer. But like I said, where Brandon’s concerned, it was just a glitch.”

“Glitch?
Glitch?
I thought you were going to tell me the guy dressed in drag or he was a chain smoker, or something.
Drug dealer
never popped into my mind.”

“Come on, Heather. Even you agreed the guy looked good on paper. And Brandon isn’t going to charge me for that match.”

“Well, I should hope to hell not!”

“He’ll do better next time.”

“Next time? You’re letting him have a
next time
?”

Alison frowned. “Yes. I am.”

“God, Alison, don’t you see what you’re doing? This guy doesn’t have a clue how to be a matchmaker, and you’re letting him use you as a guinea pig.”

“I’m just giving him another chance. What do I have to lose?”

“A little bit of time and a whole lot of money.”

Intellectually, Alison knew that. But emotionally, there was something about Brandon she just couldn’t stop coming back to. He exuded the kind of confidence she wished she felt herself. Told her in no uncertain terms that he could find her the man of her dreams when she had a hard time believing it on her own anymore. In spite of what had happened last night, he gave her the one thing she desperately needed.

Hope.

A
few days later, Tom and Brandon sat at the bar at McCaffrey’s, having a beer and watching the Rangers game they couldn’t get on his grandmother’s TV. It was late afternoon, and the crowd was light—just he and Tom, plus two other guys Brandon had never met before. Together they chatted about batting averages and trades and the pitching staff. But Brandon was having a hard time concentrating on the game. He was too preoccupied with the fact that his ad on
Dallas After Dark
had come out yesterday, and so far he hadn’t had a single call.

“Unless a satellite fell out of the sky,” Tom said, “your phone is working. Will you stop staring at it and watch the game?”

Brandon folded his arms in frustration and tried to concentrate on the game, but it was a hard-won battle. Realistically, he couldn’t expect his phone to start ringing off the hook right away. People would have to see the ad for a little while. Think about it. Consider the benefits of using a matchmaker. Go to the website to get more information. And then they’d give him a call and set up an appointment.

Or the ad was going to generate nothing, and he’d be screwed.

And then there was Alison. He’d been through a bunch of his files again with no luck, finding something not to like about every one of the men, even the other guy in the coin flip. He knew that was probably because he was gun-shy after setting her up with Greg the Vegan Drug Dealer. But if he couldn’t find Mr. Right for her, sooner or later he’d have to settle for Mr. Close to Right and hope for the best.

“Still think you’re going to be able to do the matchmaking thing?” Tom asked between innings.

“I still have time to get it moving,” Brandon said, but for the first time, his confidence was wavering. If he didn’t get some more new business coming in soon, he wouldn’t be able to do the deal in Houston. That would mean he’d have to go back to being a lackey on somebody else’s construction crew, and he’d always said he shoot himself before he let that happen.

He remembered when he and Tom had pulled off one of the Vegas deals at a time when things were so hot there the contracts practically singed their hands. They’d left the title company, headed for the gaming tables, and before the night was over, Brandon had turned a ten thousand dollar stake into fifty, making him feel as if he couldn’t lose. Before the night was over, he and Tom picked up a couple of party girls, grabbed a limo, and made a night of it, throwing money around as if their pockets were bottomless. Brandon had woken up the next morning with the hangover of the century and a woman next to him whose name he didn’t even remember. And still he’d felt as if he was on top of the world.

He wanted that feeling back again.

Tracy was tending bar, seemingly watching the game right along with them. But she never missed an opportunity to lean this way or twist that way when she was getting a beer or adjusting the sound on the TV or washing out a glass, giving everybody present a nearly unobstructed view of her most cherished assets. But it was Brandon she focused most of her attention on. When a commercial came on, she leaned her forearms on the bar and gave him a smoldering stare.

“I heard the most outrageous rumor about you,” she said.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Heather said you’re a matchmaker. You set people up. Find them their soul mates.”

“Listen to Heather. She knows what she’s talking about.”

“Then it’s true?”

“Every word.”

“A man who makes love matches.” She sighed. “That is
so
hot.”

When Brandon responded by turning his attention back to the television, Tracy ran her fingertip along his hand. “I have an idea. Why don’t you tell me what kind of woman you’re looking for, and I’ll see if I can do a little matchmaking for
you
.”

“Actually, I’m not looking right now.”

“Now, I don’t believe that for one minute. A man like you is always looking.” She leaned in and spoke softly. “And trust me—I’m the one you’re looking for.”

Since the first day he’d come in here, Tracy had been turning herself inside out for his attention. Under any other circumstances, he’d have returned her interest, but these days he didn’t have the option of hopping in the sack with any woman who happened to catch his eye.

“I think you have some new customers,” Brandon said.

Tracy turned around to look at the man and woman having a seat at the other end of the bar. With a frown of frustration, she walked down to take their order.

The man sitting next to Brandon shook his head with disgust. “I
hate
women like her.”

Brandon was shocked to hear him say that. So far he hadn’t noticed any of the other male customers having a problem with Tracy’s…uh,
direct
behavior.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m surprised she doesn’t have a mattress strapped to her back. I divorced a woman like her. Cheated on me right and left.”

Ah.
Now it made sense.

“That’s too bad,” Brandon said.

“I’m just glad to be rid of her. She had a roving eye from the day we got married. I’m not sure, but I think she screwed my best man in the back of his SUV two hours before we walked down the aisle.”

Brandon wanted to ask the guy why, if he had a suspicion like that, he married her anyway. But he was probably just one of those too trusting guys who didn’t stand a chance against an evil, manipulating woman.

The guy took a sip of his beer and sighed. “Where are all the good women? Seriously. Where
are
they?”

All at once, the matchmaking sector of Brandon’s brain lit up like Christmas. “So you don’t like pushy women?”

“Pushy, calculating, slutty. Can’t stand them. I just want a nice woman without all the drama. Is that too much to ask?”

“Do you want to get married again?”

“Absolutely. I loved being married. I just didn’t love being married to a woman like
her
.”

A man who loved marriage, but hated infidelity?

Brandon thought about the networking his grandmother had done, finding quality singles in all kinds of places to match up with her paying clients.

Maybe he needed to do the same.

A few minutes later, he’d found out the guy’s name was David Pence. It was his first time at McCaffrey’s. He had time to kill before meeting a salesman to sign the papers on a new car he was buying, so he’d dropped in. When Brandon told him what he did for a living and that he’d like to introduce him to that good woman he was looking for, he seemed excited.

A few questions later, and Brandon learned that David was an electrical engineer, thirty-eight years old, had a good income, didn’t smoke, and he wanted kids. And the fact that he was repelled by women like Tracy told Brandon that the perfect woman for him just might be Alison.

By the time the guy left the bar, Brandon had made an appointment with him to come by the office the next day, bring a photo, and fill out a questionnaire. And authorize a background check, because he wasn’t making
that
mistake again. Since Brandon was soliciting him with a particular woman in mind, he couldn’t charge him for this match, but if things didn’t work out between him and Alison, he might be able to convert him to a paying customer later.

All in all, it had been a productive afternoon.

“Can’t believe he said that about Tracy,” Tom said as David was walking out the door. “I’d do her in a heartbeat.”

“I think that was David’s problem with her,” Brandon said. “She’d do any guy in a heartbeat.”

Tom perked up. “
Any
guy?”

“Just wait until closing time. If she hasn’t already hooked up, you’ll look way better to her then.”

“Gee, thanks. I can always count on you to give my ego a real boost. But I think it’s you she’s after.”

“Not interested.”

“In fact, there are a lot of women around here who are clearly out to get you. Any reason you’re not taking advantage of that?”

“Because a bed‑hopping matchmaker isn’t exactly the image I need to be conveying. Word will get around.”

“So you actually intend to go months without getting laid? That would be a first.”

Brandon didn’t much like the thought of that, either, but he wasn’t going to allow anything to get in the way of getting the money he needed. It was the only shot he had right now, so even if he had to maintain the sexual habits of a priest, he wasn’t about to let it go.

When Brandon told Alison about David and then sent his information to her, she felt that tiny stirring of hope she always did whenever a new man was on the horizon. Still, she tried her best not to get her hopes up. Brandon had yet to prove himself, so this date could turn out even worse than the last one.

The next Friday night, she met David at the restaurant he’d suggested, which turned out to be one of those see-and-be-seen places she generally hated. Everyone was crammed butt‑to‑butt in the bar, swaying to the music and spilling martinis down each other’s backs but looking fabulous while they were doing it. Alison only had so much fabulousness in her, and she wasn’t sure this was a place where she wanted to waste any of it.

David himself, though, seemed as good as he’d sounded on paper. Dark hair, dark eyes, nice build, nicely dressed. He was thirty-eight, but if not for the touch of gray at his temples, she would have thought he wasn’t much older than she was. When he turned and saw her for the first time, he smiled in a way that didn’t
seem
phony, though some guys were really good at faking that first impression. She herself had mastered it. Fortunately, this time she could let her face relax into a genuine reflection of the way she felt, which was
So far, so good
.

The hostess escorted them to a table away from the bar where it was quieter, which was nice, even though they were still within sight of the beautiful people. David picked up the wine list. “How about a bottle of wine?”

“That’d be good,” she said. Actually, great. First date nervousness sucked, and a little alcohol always made her brain settle down. A few minutes later they were sipping cabernet, and Alison began to relax.

“So you’re an electrical engineer,” she said. “That’s interesting.”

“Usually, yeah. But right now I’m stuck working on an optical emission spectrometer for metal analysis.” He rolled his eyes. “Boring.”

She nodded with sympathy, even though she didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.

“And you’re in marketing?” he asked.

“Yeah. I work for Spangler Sweets. I’m basically a candy pusher. Our products are as addictive as meth, but we don’t get thrown in jail for selling them.”

It was her go-to opening line about her job that she used to determine if a guy had any sense of humor at all. A smile was all she was looking for. David actually laughed, which meant she could relax a little more.

The waitress brought their appetizer—chicken satay with a sweet cucumber sauce. But just as Alison was getting ready to dig in, David sat up straight, his eyes going wide as he looked at something over her right shoulder. She turned to look. No celebrity had walked in. Nothing was on fire. So what was he staring at?

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

He turned his eyes back to Alison, looking a little flustered. “No. Nothing’s wrong. Nothing at all.”

Then his gaze shifted back to the something that was nothing. Alison looked over her shoulder again. Three women had just sat down at a table in the bar.

“Are you looking at those women?” she asked.

“Nope. Don’t see anybody. Doesn’t the chicken satay look good?”

“Yeah,” Alison said warily, because David’s eyes kept shifting from the good‑looking chicken to the women at the bar and back again.

“Are you sure you don’t know those women?” she asked.

“Okay,” he admitted. “I do. One of them is my ex-wife, Janet.”

Alison’s heart seized up. Well,
crap
. An ex-wife showing up was never good. Never.

Never.

“But don’t worry,” David said, putting an appetizer on his plate. “I have no feelings for her anymore. None at all.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Absolutely. I just know she’s talking about me. That’s all.”

“How do you know that?”

“That woman to her left is Stacy Rankowsky. She’s the reason we broke up in the first place. Filled my wife’s head with all kinds of crap about how I was controlling and manipulative. She once called me a Neanderthal. Me! I’m telling you, Alison, I’m the most easygoing guy you’ll ever meet.” He took a bite of the chicken satay. “Oh. This is so good. You have to try it.”

Alison picked up one of the appetizers and dipped it into the sauce. One bite told her he was right. These were heaven on a wooden skewer.

“So tell me, Alison. Have you lived in Plano long?”

“I grew up in Dallas and then moved here after college. I have a condo near the rail line, which is nice because—”

And then he was looking over her shoulder again.

“What’s wrong?” Alison asked.

“This is no accident,” he said, frowning. “She must have found out I was going to be here.”

“How would she have found out?”

“My friend Derek must have told her.”

“Why would he do that?”

“She probably wheedled it out of him.”

“Uh…she’s your ex. Why would she care?”

“You sure ask a lot of questions, Alison. Wouldn’t you rather concentrate on what’s going on between us?”

Well, yeah. Except she wasn’t the one who had digressed in the first place.

For the next ten minutes, David made what looked like a concerted effort to put all his attention on Alison, but even when he wasn’t looking at Janet, he was tapping his fingertips on the table as if he was nervous or pissed or both, his jaw looking as if it was set in granite. But that was only during the times when he wasn’t smiling insincerely at Alison and swearing his ex meant nothing to him.

“Don’t take this wrong, David,” she said as he glanced over her shoulder for the sixty‑fourth time. “But I think it’s possible you still have feelings for Janet.”

“Feelings? For her?
No.
” He made a scoffing noise. “Not just no, but
hell
no.” He smiled at Alison. “You’re the one I’m interested in right now. Now, where were we?”