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

He reached inside his suit pocket and took out a picture.

Meg opened the clasp of her purse and removed the photo the girls had given her. She looked down at it and then up again.

He appeared to be doing the same thing.

“Meg Remington?” he asked uncertainly.

She nodded. “Steve Conlan?”

He nodded, too.

He wore a suit and tie. A suit and tie. The guy had really gone all out for her. Meg swallowed uncomfortably. He’d invited her to this ultrafancy restaurant expecting to meet the woman who’d exchanged those letters and messages with him. Meg felt her heart settle somewhere in the vicinity of her knees. She couldn’t very well introduce herself and immediately say it had all been a mistake and cancel dinner. Not when he’d gone to so much trouble.

“I believe our table is ready,” Steve said, holding out his arm to her. His hand touched her elbow and he addressed the hostess. “We can be seated now.”

The woman gave him an odd look, then picked up two huge menus. “This way.”

Meg might’ve been wrong, but she thought she heard some reluctance in his voice. Perhaps she was a disappointment to Steve Conlan. After the fitness drill Lindsey and Brenda had put her through, Meg was feeling her advancing age.

Pride stiffened Meg’s shoulders. So she hadn’t signed any modeling contracts lately. What did he expect from a thirty-seven-year-old woman? If he wanted to date a woman in her twenties, he shouldn’t have answered her ad. Lindsey’s ad, she corrected. It was all Meg could do not to stop Steve Conlan right then and there and tell him this was as good as it got.

Especially in this dress. It was simply gorgeous. Meg knew now the girls had made the perfect choice. She was glad she’d given in to them on this one. Besides, Lindsey was right; she didn’t own anything fancy enough for Chez Michelle. Before she could stop herself she’d agreed to wear it. Soon both girls were offering her fashion advice.

They were escorted to a linen-covered table next to the window, which overlooked Elliot Bay and Puget Sound. The moon’s reflection on the water sent gilded light across the surface, and the restaurant’s interior was dimly lit.

Meg squinted, barely able to read her menu. She wondered if Steve was having the same problem. Originally she hadn’t intended to have dinner with him. Wouldn’t even now, if he hadn’t gone to so much trouble on her behalf. It seemed crass to drop in, announce it had all been a misguided attempt by her daughter to play matchmaker, ask his forgiveness and speedily disappear.

“I believe I’ll have the chicken cordon bleu,” she said, deciding on the least expensive item on the menu. “And please, I insist on paying for my own meal.” It would be unforgivable to gouge him for that as well.

“Dinner’s on me,” Steve insisted, setting his menu aside. He smiled for the first time and it transformed his face. He studied her, as if he wasn’t sure what to make of her.

“But …” Meg lowered her gaze and closed her mouth. She didn’t know where to start and yet she didn’t know how much longer she could maintain the pretense. “This is all very elegant ….”

“Yes,” he agreed, spinning the stem of his water glass between his thumb and index finger.

“You look different than your picture.” Meg had no idea why she’d told him that. What she should be doing was explaining about Lindsey and Brenda.

“How’s that?”

“Your eyes are much bluer and you’ve cut your hair.”

He gave a slight grin. “And your picture didn’t do you justice.”

Meg hadn’t thought to ask Lindsey which one she’d mailed Steve. “Can I see?”

“Sure.” He pulled it out of his pocket and handed it over.

Meg took one look and rolled her eyes. She couldn’t believe Lindsey had sent this particular photograph to anyone. It’d been taken just before Christmas a year earlier. She was standing in front of the Christmas tree wearing a white dress that drained all the color from her face. The flash from the camera made her eyes appear red. She looked like she was recovering from a serious ailment.

“This is one of the worst pictures ever taken of me,” she said impatiently. “The one of me at the bookstore is much better.”

Steve’s brow creased with a frown. “I see. You should’ve sent that one.”

Meg realized what she’d said too late. “You’re right, I should have …. How silly of me.”

The waitress came and they placed their orders, both declining a drink, Meg to keep down the cost and Steve, no doubt, to hurry the meal along.

Once the server had left the table, Meg carefully smoothed the napkin across her lap. “Listen, Steve … “

“Meg … “

They both stopped.

“You go first,” he said, gesturing toward her.

“All right.” She cocked her head to one side and then the other, going over the words in her mind. “This isn’t easy ….”

Steve frowned. “It’s been a pleasure to meet me, but the chemistry just isn’t there and you’d like to let me down gently and be done with it.”

“No!” she hurried to assure him.

“Oh.”

The disappointment in his tone came as a mild shock. Then she understood. “You … expected a different kind of woman and—”

“Not in the least. If the truth be known, I’m pleasantly surprised.”

She swallowed. “I wish you hadn’t said that.”

“Why not?”

“Because …” She dragged in a deep breath. “Because I’m not the person you think I am. I mean …” This was proving even more difficult than it should have. “I didn’t write those letters.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Then who did?”

“My daughter and her friend.”

“I … see.”

Meg’s fingers crushed the linen napkin in her lap. “You have every reason to be upset. It was an underhanded thing to do to us both.”

“You didn’t know anything about this?”

“I swear I didn’t. I would’ve put a stop to it immediately if I had.”

Steve reached for his water and drank thirstily. “I would have, too.”

“I want you to know I intend to discipline Lindsey for this. I can only apologize …” She stopped midsentence when she saw his shoulders moving with suppressed laughter. “Steve?”