Male Order Bride (11 page)

"With my luck," Lacey had commiserated, "Prince will
answer to a whistle and turn out to be a dog."

"There is one consolation," Jane said, laughing.

"Which is?"

"If the coach turns out to be a pumpkin, you can always
make a pie."

Lacey didn't feel any better thinking about that backup
plan. This date with Rafe Chancellor might be a pleasant way to spend
the evening, but she would probably not hear half of what he told her
because she'd be thinking of R.C. instead.

He had given her no indication on the invitation where he
was taking her or what they would be doing. She assumed the evening
would begin with dinner. They both loved to dance, so that could
conceivably be worked into the date. She liked to have some idea of the
kind of date she was going to have in order to know what to wear.

By deduction she figured he would take her somewhere
worthwhile for dinner—like Mary Mahoney's French House or
White Pillars.
He'd better
, was what she decided.
After all the buildup for this date over the past two weeks, she was,
at the very least, worth dinner at one of those two places. If he tried
taking her to the Pit Grill, she'd find taxi fare home.

Since the driver would be arriving at seven, she assumed
they would have a drink or two first, getting acquainted. He owed her
that much, since he seemed to know so much more about her than she did
about him. After a couple of Blue Maxes she might manage to make the
rest of the evening a blur. Maybe he'd take her home early and she
could sit by the phone again, waiting for it to ring from R.C. this
time.

She hadn't taken long deciding what she wanted to wear.
Something stylish, of her own design, to give her extra confidence in
herself just in case she should need it. But nothing exceedingly
flashy, or, heaven forbid, sexy. She didn't want to encourage him. She
also wanted to wear some-thing with just enough flair so other men
would notice her and he wouldn't be so surprised to find out she wasn't
an easy woman for a man to catch. She put on a blue voile skirt with a
matching camisole and diaphanous short jacket. It was sensuous yet
demure, conservative yet distinctive.

Then she paced, watching the hands on the clock creep
toward seven.

Promptly at seven she heard a car in the drive. Peeking
through the curtains in the living room, she thought at first Jane's
exaggeration of the golden-pumpkin coach hadn't been far wrong. It was
a gold car, and one that predated anything of her experience, with
running boards and a large round hood.

Lord
, she thought,
Rafe
Chancellor did come out of the Middle Ages. How am I going to last
through the night? How am I going to let my neighbors see me driving
away in that… that… whatever it is
?

Maybe her appendix would come to her rescue and rupture
before she had to open the door. Maybe a long-lost relative from the
other side of the world would suddenly show up in town and she'd have
to cancel this date. Maybe she'd just grit her teeth and open the door.

"Hello," she said to the tall blond man standing on the
other side. A measure of relief washed over her. He didn't look
half-bad. He was quite handsome, actually. This might not be like
taking medicine after all. She smiled and held out her hand. "I'm happy
to meet you, Rafe."

"I'm happy to meet you too, Lacey, but I'm not Rafe."

"Oh," she said, frowning, shaking his hand. "Who are you?"

"I'm Captain Kincaid. Rafe sent me to pick you up."

"Oh," she said, frowning again.

"Don't look so worried," he said, smiling. "Rafe's a good
man. He just couldn't get away to pick you up himself, so he sent me. I
don't think you'll be disappointed when you finally meet him."

"He told you about me, then?" she asked, unclasping her
hand and clenching it nervously at her side. "Did you know this is
supposed to be our first date and I don't even know what he looks like?"

"You'll know him when you see him," Captain Kincaid
answered, smiling. "He's that kind of man. Stands out in a crowd, even
when there isn't a crowd around."

"You speak very highly of him," Lacey observed. "Do you
know him well?"

"With Rafe it doesn't take long to feel as if you know him
well. He's that kind of man, despite all his reserve. If he likes you
and accepts you, he lets you know it. You'll see what I mean."

"I hope so." She sighed, then admitted, "I guess you
realize I'm kind of nervous about this."

He smiled. "Don't be. Like I said, Rafe's a good man. You
won't be disappointed."

"Can I get that in writing?"

His smile widened into a grin. "From what he's told me,
haven't you already gotten that in writing from the invitation?"

She blushed and nodded. "I suppose so."

"Are you ready?" he asked, not making any moves to step
over the threshold uninvited.

"Yes, just let me get my purse," she said, stepping back
into the living room and picking up her clutch. She left the couch
light on, but turned off the overhead and locked the door behind her.

Captain Kincaid stood aside, waiting for her, and escorted
her down the steps to the waiting car, where Lacey saw a small
dark-haired woman seated in the front. He opened the door for Lacey and
introduced his wife.

That figures
, Lacey thought. Since
Rafe Chancellor couldn't come himself, he had sent someone who was
married and couldn't steal her away from him before she even had a
chance to meet him. Otherwise he would have sent someone who couldn't
possibly appeal to her or accidentally overshadow him.

"I'm pleased to meet you," Lacey said, realizing that she
was pleased to have someone to talk to to dispel her butterflies, but
displeased that the meeting with Rafe was delayed past seven o'clock.
"Is this your car?" she asked Captain Kincaid.

"No, it's Rafe's," he answered, getting in behind the
steering wheel and starting the antique.

"What is it?"

"A Chevy. Didn't he tell you about it?"

She remembered now—1933—the car he was
restoring. She should be grateful he hadn't sent a buckboard pulled by
a plowhorse to pick her up. Maybe they weren't going to dinner after
all. Maybe they were going to a parade. Maybe they
were
the parade. "So that's what this is. I did wonder when you drove up. Is
'Captain' your first name?"

He laughed and his wife corrected her. "It's Bob. Rafe has
told us all about you, Lacey. I knew it was going to be fun meeting
you."

"Are you having dinner with us tonight?" Lacey asked.

"We are," Bob told her, "along with five or six other guys
and their wives."

Lacey hoped this occasion wasn't in her honor. "Why so
many people?"

"It's sort of a reunion of some of Rafe's buddies from
Vietnam. Plus a couple of new guys, like me. Rafe didn't think you'd mind meeting everyone at once."

Lacey felt as if she were on a runaway stallion that
didn't know what "whoa" meant. Not only had she not met him, but he was
giving her an Army's worth of people to meet, all on the first date.
From the way Captain Kincaid was acting, it looked as if everyone knew
more about Lacey than Lacey knew about anything!

Maybe the car would have a flat tire. If it didn't, she'd
have to make sure it got one somehow. A broken heel, or a twisted
ankle, or a swooning headache. Heavy on the headache. Mentally she
started counting the money in her wallet. Did she have enough cab fare?
"Where are we going?" she asked of her abductors.

"To the Officers' Club at Keesler. Ever been there?"

"No."

She could almost predict his next words: "You'll like it."

"Do you run a delivery service for all of Rafe's dates?"
Lacey asked.

Mrs. Kincaid giggled and looked over at her husband.

"No, this is the first time he's asked me," Captain
Kincaid answered. He glanced over to Lacey and smiled. "And once he
sees you, I wouldn't be surprised if he no longer needs my services.
He'll probably want to do the driving himself from now on."

"Does he approach every girl he meets the way he did me?"
Lacey asked, determined to get whatever information she could out of
Rafe's friends, if she couldn't learn anything from Rafe himself.

"He told me about the flowers and the cards," Mrs. Kincaid
said, looking at her husband again and touching his arm as he drove.
"We've only been married a few months, but Bob doesn't do romantic
things like that anymore."

Lacey smiled. By the way she was looking at her husband,
that reprimand was just teasing. Whatever Bob did instead of sending
flowers made up for the lack of blooms in the marriage.

"I think this is a first for him," Bob answered.

"I'll admit, even to him," Lacey said, "that the approach
was novel. I did enjoy all the attention. But dragging out this meeting
two weeks is driving me nuts. Even now he's sent you to pick me up
instead of coming himself. That's somewhat unsettling."

"Blind dates always are," Mrs. Kincaid agreed.

"But this one's different," Bob joined in.

"How?" Lacey asked.

"You'll see," Bob answered. "It's not really a blind date
after all, is it? You've already met him in a way; and you've had
friends of his, like us, talking about him. That should reveal
something about the man you're about to meet."

"Well, it does. Still, it's a little like a grab bag at a
carnival. You know you're going to get some kind of prize, but you're
not sure it's going to be the one you want."

Bob laughed. "If you start having a bad time this
evening," he said, "just let us know and well take you home early. You
can't have a better guarantee than that, now, can you?"

"Thanks," Lacey said. "Don't be surprised if I take you up
on it. You won't mind leaving early?"

He shook his head. "But I don't think you're going to need
to leave with us. You'll see what I mean when you meet Rafe."

Lacey hoped so. She settled back in the roomy antique car
and decided to try to think of something else, something pleasant,
something that had nothing to do with Rafe Chancellor and her icy feet.
Her mind latched onto R.C.

Where was he tonight? What was he doing? Was he spending
his Saturday night alone? Was he trying to call her? When she got home,
would there be a message on her answering machine from him?

This date would only last a few hours, she told herself,
trying to calm her breathing as they passed through the gates of
Keesler Air Force Base, where all the military in the area congregated
for their social functions. Just a few hours of eating and drinking.
Lots of drinking. She hoped this was one of those parties where they
handed you a drink at the door before they offered to take your coat,
not that she was wearing a coat tonight, but she surely could use a
drink—a bottle of something and only one ice cube. No glass.

What would she say to all of these strangers she would be
meeting in a few minutes? It was bad enough that her own date was a
stranger. She didn't even know what to say to him, but to have all of
his friends thrust on her the same night…

"Are all of these people part of the group I'm going to
meet tonight?" Lacey asked, seeing the cars in the lot where Bob
finally parked the car.

"I don't think you'll have to worry about that," he told
her. "Since this is the Officers' Club, there will probably be a lot of
people here whom Rafe knows, but his group is just a small one. Six or
seven couples."

Lacey didn't feel any more cheered by that information.
She was out of familiar territory on this military base anyway. Those
tall chain-link walls they had passed through at the gate hadn't given
her much of a sense of security. Could civilian taxi drivers drive
through those gates to pick her up if she decided she wanted to leave?

Bob walked around the car and opened the door for Lacey
and his wife. Lacey took her time getting out; she was in no hurry to
rush into any man's arms.

When they walked through the doors of the Officers' Club,
Lacey relaxed, a little. It didn't look foreign. In fact, it looked no
different from the lounge of a plush hotel. There was even artwork on
the walls, distinctive paintings, not furniture-store print-outs in
plastic frames.
What did you expect
? she asked
herself.
Some kind of white-slavery hall? A harem
?

"He's probably in the lounge," Bob said, directing the
way. "Dinner wasn't planned until later."

Lacey didn't say anything. Her heart was pounding. In just
a few minutes she would meet the real Rafe Chancellor.

What if this whole thing was some sort of elaborate joke?
What if there wasn't such a person as Rafe Chancellor?

George wouldn't do that to her, her reason argued. And
everyone else she had talked to had confirmed that such a person
existed and was in fact likable. But what if… ?

What if she fainted?

"In here," Bob said, indicating the bar area of the club
and letting the women lead the way. The room was dark and candlelit;
with stools hugging the counter and glassware hanging by stems from
ceiling racks.

Lacey paused a moment, adjusting to the light, her eyes
scanning tables. Which group was the one she would soon belong to?
Which man was going to catch her eye and single her out with the
signal:
I'm Rafe Chancellor. You're mine for the night
.

Bob wasn't helping at all. He was standing back, waiting
for her to step forward. "Which one is he?" Lacey asked, whispering to
Bob over her shoulder.

"You'll know him when you see him," he answered. When she
turned around to glare at him, he smiled.

She looked around the room, starting in the nearest
shadowy corner. A table for four. All men. All with backs to her.
Clearly they weren't expecting anyone to join them; nearby was a couple
immersed in each other, drinks melting on the table in front of them; a
large, somewhat noisy group occupied another corner of the room. Men
and women together, several tables pulled together. That had
possibilities.