Operation Valentine (6 page)

A slight cough interrupted them. ‘One Hahn Premium. One cranberry and lime sparkler.' Sarah looked up in relief as Owen placed both their drinks on coasters in
front of them. In fact, this time it took all her willpower not to grab his hand and say, ‘Please don't go.'

But she refrained. She was a big girl and perfectly capable of navigating her way through or out of this date without his help. Besides, it had only just started. Things were bound to improve, weren't they?

So Owen walked away and she gifted Tom with all her attention. Chin in palm she listened as he talked about Julia's sense of fashion, Julia's interior design ideas for their apartment, Julia's fad diets that never worked, Julia's interesting way of cooking fish.

‘I really should have got that recipe off her before she moved out last week,' he moaned, taking out his handkerchief again to mop his face. ‘I loved that dish.'

Sarah, whose thoughts had momentarily been fixated on two droplets of sweat currently snaking a path from Tom's temple to his collar, was jolted back to the present. She lifted her chin out of her palm and sat up straight.

‘Wait, did you just say
last week
?'

‘Yes.' He licked his wet upper lip. ‘We broke up on Wednesday. We're having a trial separation, you see.'

‘And how's that working for ya?' she asked sarcastically, picking up her cocktail so that she could take a sip. The cool tangy liquid didn't calm her as much as she had hoped.

‘I don't know.' He seemed to think her question was genuine. ‘It's difficult to understand why we broke up in the first place. She thinks I'm too obsessive.' He leaned over and placed his sweaty palms on her hands, which were currently still holding the cocktail. ‘Do you think I'm too obsessive?'

In horror, she watched another droplet of his sweat slide slowly off the end of his nose and –

PLOP!

Straight into her cranberry and lime sparkler.

She gasped, unable to take her eyes off her violated drink. ‘Oh no.'

‘
Oh no
, I'm not obsessive, or
Oh no
, you don't want to answer the question?'

Someone's throat cleared. ‘Er, excuse me.'

Her gaze snapped across the bar to find Owen by their side again.

‘Yes?' she asked, trying to pull her cocktail out of Tom's grasp, but for some reason his fingers only tightened around hers. No doubt his obsessiveness gene was kicking up a notch. Luckily, Owen was addressing Tom rather than her.

‘There's a woman waiting outside who wanted me to pass on a message to you.'

‘A woman?' Tom immediately let go of Sarah's hands, nearly sending her sprawling. He took out his handkerchief to wipe his face again. ‘What woman?'

‘She said her name was Julia and that she needed to talk to you urgently.'

‘Julia,' he whispered with such reverence that when he turned to Sarah to make his excuses she just waved her hand.

‘Oh for goodness sake, just go.'

‘Thanks.' He smiled. ‘If it doesn't work out with her, I'll phone you.'

‘I'd rather you didn't!' she called after him as he hurried off. She swung to Owen, setting her drink down on the table. ‘Thank goodness he's gone! I could just kiss you.'

‘Please do.'

She swatted him. ‘Be serious.'

His mouth twisted lazily. ‘I was.' He came around the counter and took Tom's stool beside her.

He's just flirting. That's just what he does. Ignore it and you'll be fine.

‘So,' he drawled, jolting her back to the real world. ‘How would you have coped talking about Julia all night if I hadn't invented that phone call?'

Sarah's eyes widened. ‘You mean she's not really here?'

‘Of course not. Julia's not that dumb.' Owen scoffed. ‘Nobody's that dumb.'

‘But he'll just come right back in when he doesn't see her there,' Sarah protested in some alarm, trying to peer over his shoulder at the door through which Tom had just exited.

‘And what do you think he'll see when he does?' Owen murmured, eyes downcast. He had turned his knees towards hers so they were touching and lain his arm on the counter so that his hand could pick up the fingers that had been resting beside her glass. His thumb brushed her knuckles.

Sarah sucked in a steadying breath. ‘Oh, you're magnificent.'

‘I've had a lot of practice.'

She turned her head briefly towards the door again, more because she couldn't return his regard while he was holding her hand for fear her eyes might betray her. As if on cue, Tom walked back in. He stood stunned on the threshold as their gazes met. Bewilderment crossed his features in the form of a pink stain on his cheeks.

She broke the connection. ‘Oh no, he's looking at us. I feel terrible! Absolutely terrible. Maybe I should go over. Apologise. Try to give him a nicer rejection. This must be absolutely humiliating for him.'

She felt a hand under her chin pushing it up so she was forced to gaze into those coffee-cream eyes. All her blood rushed to her face.

‘Honey, if you go over there now,' he began calmly, ‘you'll end up talking about Julia for at least another half-hour as he attempts to apologise to you. Which, if he has any sort of decency, he should.' He brushed a single finger down the side of her cheek. ‘Stay with me. Let him go.'

She swallowed hard. ‘Wow. How do you sleep at night?'

‘Not alone.' His grin was pure evil.

She glanced agitatedly at the door, again more for the break in eye contact than anything else. His thumb was still smoothing the wrinkles on her knuckles, causing shivers of awareness to shoot up her arm. With relief, she saw that the threshold was empty.

‘He's gone. You can stop that now.'

‘Sure.' He removed his hand from hers and clasped it to his own as he continued to regard her steadily. ‘So back to the drawing board, is it?'

‘Drawing board?' She took a fortifying sip of her cocktail, marvelling that he could move so quickly from seduction to completely benign conversation. She was still trying to gather her wits, which were currently strewn around the base of the stool. ‘What do you mean?'

‘Soulmates.com.'

‘Oh, yes, of course,' she replied dejectedly. ‘I suppose I better. Deadline and all that.'

He took his phone from his pocket. ‘Want to do it now?'

Her eyes narrowed on him. ‘Now just hold your horses there, buster. Tom's barely down the street and I'm not sure I want you to help me again. Your last choice was the pits.'

‘Well,' he said slowly, ‘if I don't help you, how can I ask you a favour?'

Her lips curved. ‘
You
need my help? Oh, this is excellent.' She clasped her hands under her chin. ‘How can I massively humiliate you and destroy your life? Please do let me know, I'd be happy to.'

He chuckled. ‘Very funny. But this is actually very important. It's to do with my daughter.'

She raised her brows and waited. Then, to her great pleasure and surprise, Owen Black blushed. A lovely rosy hue infused his face, transforming his exotic hunkiness into boyish good looks. It made him appear that much more vulnerable and something in her heart tightened.

‘My, daughter needs a, er bra.'

It was her turn to laugh. ‘Let me guess, you need someone to take her shopping for it?'

‘Would you?' he pleaded. ‘There's no one else I can ask. No one I trust.'

She tilted her head, a grin tickling her lips. ‘Seriously. You trust me?'

He nodded, his eyes locking on hers. ‘I trust you.'

Somehow, this admission caused more goosebumps on her flesh than when he'd held her hand. She cleared her throat as she felt the mood escalate from potentially dangerous to Code Red. ‘Okay then, you can help me pick another date first. Then we'll tee up a time to go bra shopping.'

He seemed relieved at her easy acquiescence and she realised that it had been a big deal for him to ask her this. That knowledge caused a shiver down her spine, and she didn't know whether it was excitement or dread. While she was still pondering it, he'd already pulled up the Soulmates.com log on page.

‘Here,' he passed her his phone. ‘Type in your password.'

She did so and immediately her other fifty-two matches came up. She
scrolled down the page, reading names and looking at profile pictures at random. Her fingers paused on a man called Simon Granger.

‘He looks nice.'

Owen rolled his eyes. ‘You just want him because he's a doctor. I bet this guy gets fifty hits a week for that very reason.'

‘No I don't,' Sarah responded crossly. ‘I want to meet him because he's an active member of the Princess Margaret Foundation. My boss would love him.'

‘Okay, I need to get one thing straight here.' Owen looked up from his phone. ‘Are we doing this for your boss or for you?'

‘Both,' Sarah shrugged. ‘But, I must admit, Mr Penwick's needs are becoming more urgent.' Before he could question her further, she pointed at his phone. ‘Who's that you've stopped on?'

Momentarily distracted, he looked down. ‘Damien Rawsom. A gardener from Belmont. He loves all things nature, comes from a big family and believes life is what you make it. Sounds like a touchy-feely kind of guy.'

‘Let me see his picture.' Sarah peered over his arm. He turned the phone towards her and she caught her first glimpse of her possible future partner. Damien had sandy blond hair, kind eyes and big broad shoulders made for resting one's head on.

‘Sold!' she grinned. ‘I'll email him tonight.' She pulled her handbag onto her arm. ‘Now I really should get going. I have to work tomorrow and right now I can't afford to be tired.'

She was about to swing her knees down when he grabbed her arm. ‘Wait a minute, what about my daughter? When are you free for shopping?'

‘Shopping?' she said breathlessly, trying not to focus on the fingers on her wrist. ‘I'm up for that any time.'

‘How about Thursday night?'

On Thursday, Owen picked her up from work in his ten-year-old Alfa Romeo. The car seemed like an extension of its owner. Dark, great body and fast. His daughter, Chloe, was in the back seat. She was a beautiful girl, with the same sort of features as her father and the most expressive brown eyes. She was a little lanky but Sarah assumed that was probably the result of a recent growth spurt. The girl was going to be a stunning young woman.

Chloe had the typical mental disability suffered by most thirteen-year-old girls – impatience. She wanted to be an adult now – know everything now, be everything now. Her enthusiasm to get on with growing up was unmistakable. She carried most of the conversation for the car ride to the shopping mall two suburbs away, a circumstance that left Sarah rather relieved. This outing, for some reason, felt far too intimate, even though she and Owen were being accompanied by someone else. Shopping for underwear and then grabbing a cheap Chinese meal was too much like something a family would do. Part of this feeling was exacerbated by Chloe, who spoke to her dad with a familiarity that seemed to include rather than exclude Sarah. And although Sarah realised that Owen's lovely, muscular, jean-clad thigh was no closer to hers than it had been when sitting at a table in his bar, it didn't feel that way
at all. Speeding down the highway in a confined cabin, lights flashing past, she felt almost transported to an alternate dimension where they'd known each other forever.

And yet she had nothing to say.

Her tongue cleaved to the top of her mouth, the air in her lungs felt trapped and her fingers fidgeted restlessly on her lap.

What is the matter with you?

The problem was, she had all the butterflies of a first date. But her feelings in this instance were completely warped. The person she had a date lined up with was Damien Rawsom, not Owen Black. In fact, her date was this Saturday evening. From his picture, Damien looked both personable and handsome. His profile summary had espoused many great qualities, too. Actually, probably too many. She hoped that he would be as rapt with her profile as she was with his. To be on the safe side, and because he was a gardener, she'd done some preliminary research on native plant names so she could impress him with some ‘home grown' knowledge. She wanted to be prepared for this date and focused, so the last thing she needed was Owen's generous biceps messing with her head.

‘Thanks for coming with us, Sarah,' Chloe piped up from the back again and Sarah quickly tore her eyes from Owen's arm. ‘Dad is just hopeless at these sorts of things. And when I say hopeless, I mean
dire
. He hates all shopping. Even for food. So I do it for him online.'

‘Well, I love shopping,' Sarah immediately responded, ‘online or in person, so he's picked the right person.'

Perhaps the last line was the wrong thing to say because the curious teen immediately asked, ‘So, Sarah, where did you meet my dad?'

‘Er.' She glanced at Owen, whose eyes remained firmly on the road. ‘At The Blue Saloon. I'm a regular.'

‘So why haven't I heard about you before?'

Sarah cleared her throat at such a direct question. ‘Well, we've only known each other for a couple of weeks.'

‘Are you guys going out with each other?' Chloe asked excitedly.

Owen frowned and glanced at his daughter in the rear-view mirror. ‘No, Chloe, it's not like that. We're just friends.'

‘Oh,' came the disappointed reply from the back seat. But after a pregnant pause she spoke again, this time with optimism. ‘Well,
you never know
.'

Owen continued to frown but said nothing in response. Sarah hid a secret smile. Was it her imagination, or was her love-and-leave-'em bar manager also a prudish parent? She wondered how much Chloe knew about her father's real love life.

They arrived at the shopping centre which sported a huge variety of outlets, including the main ones, Target and K-mart, and a giant food court. After parking the car, they decided the best plan would be to split up. Owen would go for a walk, while Chloe and Sarah went shopping. When they were finished, they would all meet up at the food court for dinner.

‘So where are you going, Dad?' Chloe asked when they reached Target.

He scratched the back of his head. ‘I don't know. Anywhere but here.'

Sarah grinned. ‘Fair enough.'

Owen took off down the centre of the mall as Sarah and Chloe entered the store. They headed straight for the women's underwear section and before long were surrounded by a myriad of coloured cup sizes and shapes. Despite being with another female, it didn't take Chloe long to lose her confident swagger and begin to look
embarrassed. Her head drooped a little and her hair covered half her face as she said to her feet, ‘Man, you must think this is so dumb.'

‘Not at all,' Sarah assured her. ‘In fact, I think this is going to be fun. Did you have anything particular in mind?'

Chloe flushed. ‘Not really.' Though she did reach out and tentatively touch a small white cotton number that had very thin straps.

‘Why don't we just pick a whole bunch that look good and you can try them on?' Sarah suggested. ‘I find, especially with bras, they look completely different on to what you'd expect from the rack.'

‘Oh, okay.'

Chloe's self-consciousness seemed to diminish as they roamed the aisles, picking off a few styles that caught their eye. Too soon for Sarah's liking, the questions were coming thick and fast.

‘So how old are you?'

‘Where do you live?'

‘What's your job?'

‘Do you have a boyfriend?'

‘Do you think my dad is hot?'

Sarah tried to answer all her questions as best she could but when Chloe came to this last one she floundered. Somehow saying, ‘Your dad burns my clothes off whenever he looks at me,' didn't seem suitable for an impressionable teen. Even if it was the truth.

Luckily by this time Chloe had entered the change room and there was a curtain between them, so the teenager couldn't see her expression.

‘It's okay, you don't have to answer that,' Chloe said cheerfully as Sarah searched for a diplomatic response that didn't incriminate her. ‘I know my dad's not exactly the coolest guy on the planet, but he's pretty nice. I mean, for an older guy. He's not a total dork most of the time and he has good morals and stuff like that. He's really strict with me so I know he'd be the protective sort, which is good, right?'

‘Er, yeah.'

‘I mean, I know he doesn't talk much. But that's just because he's shy.'

   Sarah spluttered. ‘
He's what
?'

   ‘Shy,' came Chloe's muffled response. It sounded like she was putting her t-shirt back on. ‘Especially with women. Like, he's never had a girlfriend before, at least not since my mum.'

   Sarah's mouth twisted. ‘Are you sure about that?'

   ‘Definitely.' There was a sigh behind the curtain like a lot was being left unsaid. ‘I feel sorry for him,' Chloe said at last. ‘I think he's lonely.'

   ‘He has you.' Sarah wasn't sure what else to say without messing with the persona Owen had created for his daughter.

   The curtain pushed back. ‘I think I'll get these two.' She held up a couple of simple t-shirt bras.

‘Excellent choice.'

They gave the bras they weren't buying to the lady in the change rooms and proceeded to the checkout.

   ‘So if you know anyone who is looking to meet someone,' Chloe suggested on the way, ‘please introduce him. I know he'd love that.'

   ‘I'm sure he would,' she responded, hoping the girl couldn't hear the ironic tone in her voice.

Owen watched them both from his vantage point on a bench between two leafy pot plants. They were chatting to each other and the girl at the checkout.

Sarah, he noticed, smiled easily. It was an enthralling, all-encompassing expression that lit up her whole face. He had never seen anyone draw out his daughter so effortlessly. Sarah had a warmth that was incredibly contagious. As they exited the department store, his eyes were drawn involuntarily to her slender figure.

There was really only one word to describe Sarah and that was ‘beautiful'.

The word ‘sexy' seemed too crass.

The word ‘elegant' too formal.

Yet she was both these things as well.

Did he want her?

Yes.

But seeing her with his daughter put a whole different slant on that. He wanted her for both of them. The realisation made him clench his teeth. This was exactly why he didn't make friends with women.

There was no more time to ponder this, because suddenly they had both reached his side.

‘What are you doing here, Dad?' Chloe asked. ‘I thought we were going to call you.'

‘I got bored.' He stood up in an attempt to shake off his mood. ‘Like I said, I hate shopping. So how'd it go?'

‘Really well,' Sarah assured him with a smile. ‘We got exactly what we needed. Do you want to see?'

‘No,' he said without hesitation.

Sarah chuckled. A gorgeous little tinkle that stitched up the edges of his frayed heart. As they made their way to the food court, he had the alarming desire to grab her hand, which he managed to quell only just in the nick of time. His little finger brushed hers for a millisecond before he quickly shoved his fist in his pocket.

What the hell am I thinking?

After ordering some cheap takeaway Chinese, they sat down at a table and he had the odd sensation they were a unit, that the three of them belonged together. He hadn't felt anything like this since his wife Amanda had been in the picture. This feeling of ease.

Only this time he knew it was false. Because nothing was ever that concrete or that secure. Families broke all the time. And women came and went like migrating birds. Ever since he'd started tailoring his liaisons to his expectations, he'd never got hurt. So what was the incentive to start now?

He saw none.

‘What's the matter, Dad?' Chloe nudged him.

‘My honey chicken tastes two days old.'

‘No it doesn't,' Sarah protested. She had ordered the same thing.

‘Dad's very fussy when it comes to food,' Chloe informed her knowledgeably. ‘Something to do with owning a restaurant, I suppose.'

Sarah raised her eyebrows. ‘Fussy? Really? What else?'

He frowned but Chloe seemed to have got the gist of the game. ‘He's not a morning person,' she added.

‘You don't say.'

‘And he farts a lot after eight pm.'

‘Thanks, Chloe. I think it's time we found out a little more about Sarah.' He turned to her. ‘What are
you
like in the morning?'

   It was clearly the wrong question to ask, because she blushed bright red and he immediately got the mental image of her swathed in nothing but white sheets. He really didn't need that right now.

‘Dreadful, I'm afraid,' Sarah moaned, not helping matters either. ‘I'm nearly always late for work, which is something I've got to change. I seriously have to impress my boss.'

Ah yes, hadn't she mentioned something before about needing to save her career?

‘What do you do again?' he asked.

‘Oh, come on, Dad,' his daughter reprimanded him. ‘You haven't forgotten already!'

Sarah gave him a knowing smile that made his guts twist. The truth was he'd never asked, so how could he forget? Asking the women in his life questions about themselves was not his style. Too personal. Too commitment-based.

‘I'm in PR.' Her tone was mocking. ‘You remember now, don't you?'

‘Yes, that's right. You might as well tell me why you need to impress your boss again, too.'

‘My company is downsizing and my position is gone unless I pull off the best Valentine's Day ball ever.'

Chloe screwed up her face. ‘I hate Valentine's Day.'

He glanced at his daughter approvingly. ‘And so you should.' But she wasn't speaking to him.

‘Everyone just plays pranks on each other. Last year I got this card from a a boy I liked –'

‘You liked a boy?' he started.

‘But it was just a trick and so when I showed it to him he laughed. It was so embarrassing.'

‘
You liked a boy
?'

They continued to ignore him.

‘That, my friend, is nothing.' Sarah shook her head. ‘Pranks are the least of my problems on V-Day. I've had my fair share of those, but I've also had food poisoning, broken dates, airport malfunctions, illness and even death to contend with. This year, I face potential job termination.'

‘Really?' Chloe seemed unnaturally happy with the news that someone else's life was worse than hers.

‘Yup, I'm cursed.'

‘
What boy
?' he demanded of his daughter, still trying to break his way into the conversation.