Mission: Marriage

This was it. Hand kisses from hunky strangers or not—dating was definitely not for her. Too risky. Too dangerous. Too unsettling.

She glanced sideways to the man holding her hand.

Too…exciting?

“Wow,” she breathed as soon as they had turned the corner and were out of sight of the restaurant windows. She stopped, almost stumbling on her heels, and glanced back toward the restaurant, relieved despite everything. She wouldn’t have to go through the rest of the evening. The kissing dilemma had mercifully vanished. “Did that really happen, or am I having a very surreal dream?”

“It happened, believe it or not.” The stranger grinned as he released her hand. “We’re off the hook. Thank you for the rescue.”

“Thank you.” She shuddered. “What was happening to me was infinitely worse than green bubble gum.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I noticed the cat and mouse game under the table. Not exactly a gentleman, is he?”

Lea shrugged. “You tell me. That’s not a part of the regular dating ritual?”

The man frowned in confusion. “Ritual? Uh, no. Not that I know of, anyway.”

“I don’t do this a lot, you see. It’s good to hear that’s not the standard. He…Oh! Poor Beth!” Lea groaned. “No, we can’t do this. We can’t leave her like this.”

“Don’t worry about Beth. She’s a bit of a man-eater. A sentimental, cries at the drop of a hat, man-eater. If that guy goes out of line, he’s likely to find himself with a lapful of gravy.” He held out a hand. “I’m Thomas Carlisle.”

“Lea Rhodes.”

Thomas smiled. “Nice to meet you. Can I call you a taxi? Walk you to your car? Give you a ride home?”

“Taxi would be good. I just want to get home, curl up with my cat and cry my mascara off.”

“Was it that bad?”

“I believe I’ve got the imprint of his toes on my ankle.”

He winced. “Ouch. My sympathies. Some guys have no class.”

“Dating sucks,” she muttered. “And I’m no good at it.”

“It’s an art form,” he agreed. “An acquired skill, definitely. Acquired taste, too. Not for everybody.”

“You sound like an expert.”

He grinned. “Yeah, well, when you’re not interested in wedding bells and not looking to settle down, you get an extended run at the dating part. As they say, practice makes perfect, doesn’t it?”

“Practice makes perfect?” She stared at him, wheels struggling to churn in her head. She wasn’t drunk yet,—but after a cocktail and two glasses of Chardonnay on an empty stomach she was damn close.

Practice? Hmm…Here she had run into someone not interested in commitment, just in casual dating. A serial dater. Someone with plenty of experience in this, someone who knew all about what, when and how when it came to the dating game.

He was right. He was perfect.

CHAPTER TWO

HE’D rescued the cutest damsel in distress from her own dragon’s claws—a creep who thought he could grope his way to a woman’s heart. He wasn’t sure why his intervention had been needed—why the lady hadn’t simply thrown her drink in the guy’s face and fled the restaurant.

He wasn’t sure either what had possessed him to stage such an elaborate play to rescue her. That hadn’t been a part of the deal. He was just supposed to call Anne on his cell phone and she’d handle the rest—probably phone Lea and stage a fake emergency to get her out of there.

But something—he wasn’t sure if it was the tediousness of his own blind date, or the fascinating twinkle in Lea’s eyes when they’d communicated silently across the room in their parallel dilemmas—had compelled him to intervene.

And here they were, and he wasn’t sure what to do now. Anne had threatened bodily harm if he let Lea know she’d gotten a stranger to chaperone her date. Observe, she’d instructed him. Lea’s not used to dating, and you know what blind dates can be like. If she runs into trouble, call me, and I’ll take it from there.

She’d left out the fact that her “spinster” friend was someone she really should have introduced him to a long time ago. Lovely dark hair and expressive green eyes that he’d seen radiate all sorts of emotion in the half-hour he’d been watching her at the restaurant. Maybe he could turn this around to his advantage, he mused.

Yeah. Why not? He’d see if they could continue this date somewhere else.

He’d opened his mouth to say something when the look in Lea’s eyes stopped him. The gratitude in her eyes didn’t really surprise him, considering the action he’d witnessed under their table, but it had quickly been replaced with another expression. He tried smiling at her, and her eyes narrowed in a calculating look.

He forgot all about his plans for an impromptu date, and found himself wanting to take a step back.

Why was she all of a sudden looking at him much like he imagined the big bad wolf had looked at Little Red Riding Hood?

“Practice makes perfect, you say?” she said slowly, her cheeks still red from the excitement of the last few minutes—and perhaps from one drink too many. Then her voice rose in exhilaration. “This is terrific. You’re just what I need. Finally fate decides to be on my side. It’s about time, too.”

“I’m just what you need?” Thomas asked.

“Yes!”

“And what is it that you need?” Judging by the wild look in her eyes, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but it was probably safer to ask, before she went right ahead and helped herself to…whatever she needed.

“A guy like you. You know. A serial dater. A playboy.”

“A playboy?” Thomas gave in to his instincts and took that cautious step back. Magical green eyes or not, had he rescued a slightly nuts—as well as tipsy—damsel in distress? “I’m definitely not a ‘playboy.’ I’m not even sure they make those outside of Hollywood.”

She shrugged. “Okay, a playboy probably isn’t the right word. I don’t have the terminology quite straight. I took a crash course online last night. Amazing, the things you’ll learn if you type ‘dating’ into a search engine. A player, that’s what you’re called, isn’t it?”

“Huh?”

“Players,” she repeated patiently. “Single men, playing the field for all it’s worth, you’re called players, aren’t you?”

“Uh…I don’t know. We are? They are?”

She didn’t seem to have heard him, and she still had the big bad wolf look on her face. “Listen…” she said slowly. “We missed out on the main course and I don’t think either of us ate much of our appetizer. I’m sure you’re as hungry as I am. Can I buy you dinner somewhere? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.” She hesitated. “I’m sorry—I’m sounding a bit crazy, aren’t I?”

Thomas laughed, feeling a bit relieved. Nuts usually didn’t realize they were sounding nuts. There might be an explanation for her weird ramblings. She might even be okay after all, which would be a definite plus to the evening since the damsel intrigued him a whole lot more than Beth had. “I won’t deny that the thought crossed my mind.”

“Sorry. But I have a problem, and I think you could help me solve it…” She paused and looked around. “There is a point to this, I promise. But it’s a bit of a long story. What do you say about dinner? We need to eat anyway.”

“Sounds great,” he said. “And I really am starving. You don’t stick gum on your plate, do you?”

She had a great smile, one that hadn’t been much in evidence during her date with the footsie guy, except in her silent exchanges with him. “I promise. My chewing gum doesn’t come in that shade of green, either.” She glanced around again. “Where can we eat? Do you know this neighborhood?”

“Not really. But I think I know of a place that might have tables available. My car is here, we could drive there. It’s maybe fifteen minutes away.” He hesitated, realizing they were complete strangers. “On second thoughts, you probably prefer that we take a taxi, don’t you?”