A Mother's Wish: Wanted: Perfect Partner / Father's Day

“Kisses,” he corrected. “They were pretty great and we both know it,” he said with confidence. He knew what his own reaction had been, and she hadn’t fooled him with hers.

“Yes,” she said softly.

“Especially the one on the motorcycle,” he said, prompting her to continue.

“Especially the one on the motorcycle,” she mimicked. “Honestly, Steve, you must’ve known.”

His smile was full blown. “I did.”

“I … I didn’t do a very good job of disguising what I was feeling.”

She hadn’t, but he was in a gracious mood.

“How about dinner?” he suggested. He was eager to have the real Meg Remington back. Eager to experiment with a few more kisses—see if they were anything close to what his memory kept insisting they’d been.

She hesitated. “I want to, but I can’t,” she eventually said.

He bristled and turned in the driver’s seat to face her. “Why not?”

“I promised Lindsey I’d be home by seven and it’s nearly that now.”

“Call her and tell her you’re going out to dinner with me.”

She dragged in a deep breath and seemed to hold it. “I can’t do that, either.”

“Why not?”

“After meeting you, I promised her we’d talk. She wanted to last evening, and we didn’t …. That was my fault. You kissed me,” she said, “and I didn’t feel like a heart-to-heart with my daughter after that.”

“And it’s all my fault?”

“Yes,” she insisted.

“Do you know what Lindsey wants to discuss?”

“Of course, I know. You. She doesn’t want me seeing you again, which is exactly the point of the entire charade. Remember?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, scowling.

“Are … are you telling me you’ve changed your mind?” she asked.

“Yes.” He hated to be the one to say it first, but one of them had to. “What about you?”

“I think so.”

Steve flattened his hand against the steering wheel. “I swear you’re about the worst thing that’s ever happened to my ego.”

She laughed and rested her hand on his shoulder. The wig she had on tilted sideways and she righted it. “That does sound terrible, doesn’t it?”

He smiled. “Yeah. The least you could do is show some enthusiasm.”

“I haven’t dated much in the last ten years. But if I was going to choose any man, it would be you.”

“That’s better,” he said. He wanted to kiss her. He’d been thinking about it from the moment he’d picked her up.

“Only …” Meg said sadly.

“Only what?” he repeated, lowering his mouth to hers.

Their lips met and it was heaven, just the way he’d known it would be. By the time the kiss ended, Steve was leaning his head against the window of the car door, his eyes closed. It was even more wonderful than he’d remembered, and that seemed impossible.

Meg’s head was on his chest, tucked beneath his chin.

“It’s too late,” she whispered.

“What’s too late?”

“We’ve gone to all this trouble to convince Lindsey that you’re all wrong for me.”

“I know, but … “

“Do you think Nancy will believe this was all a silly joke?”

“No.”

“I think we should end everything right here and now, don’t you?” she asked.

Steve stiffened. “If that’s what you want.”

She moved away from him. “I guess it is,” she said, with just a hint of regret.

Five

Lindsey was pacing the living room, waiting for Meg when she walked in the front door.

“Hi, honey,” Meg said, trying to sound cheerful yet exhausted—since she’d led Lindsey to believe she was taking inventory at the bookstore and that was why she’d come home so late.

“It’s way after seven!” her daughter cried, rushing toward her. “You weren’t with Steve, were you?”

“Ah …” Meg wasn’t willing to lie outright. Half truths and innuendos were about as far as she wanted to stretch this.

Lindsey closed her eyes and waved her hands vaguely. “Forget it. Don’t answer that.”

“Honey, what’s wrong?” Meg asked as calmly as she could. Unfortunately, she didn’t think she sounded all that reassuring. She’d left Steve only moments earlier and was already feeling some regret. After following through with this ridiculous charade, Steve wanted to change his mind and continue seeing Meg. She’d quickly put an end to that idea. Now she wasn’t sure she’d made the right decision.

“Mom,” Lindsey said, her dark eyes challenging, “we need to talk.”

“Of course.” Meg walked into the kitchen and took the china teapot from the hutch. “My mother always made tea when we had something to discuss.” Somehow, the ritual of drinking tea together put everything in perspective. Meg missed those times with her mother.