Wanted: Boyfriend for Christmas Page 5

  His stomach hurt. He suddenly realized he'd have to tell Claudia what happened. How could he not? He couldn't go into a marriage without telling her, could he? No, it was the right thing to do. But then what would happen to their relationship? She was obviously jealous of Heather. But what would happen if he held that lie? No, he'd tell her. He just hoped she'd forgive him.

  He slammed his fists against the bed and bounced up. Forget it. Sleep was out of the question. He needed ice cream and TV. His two comfort vices.

  The living room lay dark except for the amber glow through the blinds. He crossed to the kitchen and clicked on the light. His cell phone lay inches from his fingers. He needed to try Claudia one more time. It was almost eleven. Surely, she was home by now.

  He dialed the number. The answering machine picked up. “Hey, baby. It's me, again. Look, I'm sorry if I scared you at dinner last night. You know me, never thinking far enough ahead.” He sighed. “Just call me okay. We really need to talk this out.” He snapped the phone close and flopped back on the couch. His heart still heavy.

  I wonder what kind of ice cream I have.

  * * * *

  Heather's cell phone rang in her purse. She leaned under the counter, fumbled around the contents of her bag and pulled it out. She checked the screen. Her mother. Great. Do I answer it? If she didn't, her mother would keep calling every hour. She closed her eyes and opened it. “Hello, Mom."

  "Have you booked your ticket?"

  "Not yet."

  "Are you deliberately trying to give your mother a heart attack?"

  Heather chortled. “Um, why is my not buying a plane ticket going to give you a heart attack?"

  "Because it's stressing me out. I want you home for Christmas."

  Heather sighed. “I promised, didn't I? I'll be there. No lie."

  "Good, because I have invited a special guest to Christmas Eve dinner."

  Her heart sunk. “No, please, Mom, please don't do that. No blind dates."

  "You promised you'd come. You can't lie and break it.” Her mother cleared her throat. “I'll see you soon. I love you. Have a good day."

  "You, too. Bye.” Heather slapped the phone closed and buried her head in her arms on the desk. This wasn't good. I need a boyfriend. If she didn't go home with a guy, her mother would be playing matchmaker all week.

  "Your mom still hassling you?” Noelle asked.

  Heather furloughed her lip.

  "Well, be glad you have a mom to hassle you. My mom stopped caring when I hit puberty which is probably why I married so young."

  "How's that baby doing?"

  Noelle pulled a picture frame from her desk and passed it over the short wall.

  A gorgeous baby girl stared back at her, surrounded by pink blankets, and an almost smile. “Oh, you've got to bring her in. She's precious."

  "I will next week."

  "You'd better.” Heather passed the picture back.

  "Right now I'm kind-of enjoying the break.” Noelle rubbed her eyes. “I love that little girl, but she cries all the time. The doctor says she's colicky. So, my four hours here are a blessed break."

  "I'm sure it will get better.” Like Heather would know. She hadn't been around babies much as an adult and her last babysitting job was in high school. “Well, I'd better get back to work. I'm a little behind."

  Noelle nodded.

  Heather twisted around to her desk. The proofs for the classifieds lay spread out, waiting for her approval. She stared at the personals. Hundreds of ads were placed every week. Someone must be good enough. Maybe instead of placing an ad herself, she should answer one. Then she'd have more control over who she went out with.

  She reached for her red pen and perused the column. Her eye landed on the third one down:

  Single white male, 30, seeks a nice religious woman 25-35, who enjoys hanging out, talking, all kinds of music, a nice dinner and isn't opposed to a long-term relationship.

  Heather bit the cap off her pen and wrote the contact number on a yellow sticky. Maybe this was the one. She smiled and dialed the number.

  * * * *

  The room buzzed with the sound of workers and machines as the last ship of the day opened the cargo-bay doors. Daniel grabbed a clipboard from the rack on the wall and started to check off the day's inventory. A few minutes later, a forklift rolled past him and deposited another stack of crates by the wall for him to count.

  "Alvarez,” his boss, Watson, said behind him, “Phone call in the office."

  He nodded, replaced the board and walked around the rows of wooden boxes to the glassed-in room. Looking around the room, he spotted the receiver and snatched it up. “Hello, Daniel Alvarez?"

  "Hey, friend."

  Daniel smiled. “Heather, what are you doing calling me here?"

  "I tried your cell phone several times, but it goes straight to voicemail."

  He withdrew the phone from his pocket and flipped it open. He hadn't turned it to vibrate. “Sorry, I guess I couldn't hear it over all the noise in the warehouse. So, what's up?"

  "Do you need to call me back on your cell?"

  "No, it's okay. Most the guys are busy right now anyway."

  "Are you free to take your break?"

  His eyes fell to his sack lunch on the folding table on the other side of the glass wall. It held a bologna sandwich and an apple. Neither sounded that appealing right now in the hot warehouse. “Um, yeah, that would be great. Where do you want to meet?"

  "How about the deli on Sixth Avenue?"

  "Yeah, okay. See you in about ten minutes.” He hung up the phone and grinned. She was still talking to him. Since she always seemed to brighten his day, maybe she could help him snap out of his funk.

  He walked out of the office and crossed to the time clock. He started to punch his card, when he spotted Watson walking toward him. He removed the plastic helmet from his head and tucked it under his arm.

  "You taking off?” Watson asked.

  "Yeah, going to lunch.” He smoothed his hair, and then pointed to the abandoned sack. “Have at my lunch, if you want? I won't need it now."

  The portly man raised an eyebrow and nodded. It was a well-known fact among the men that the best way to butter their boss was with food. “Have fun."

  "Thanks.” Daniel clocked out and crossed to his car. About ten minutes later, he parked in the small deli lot and walked inside. Heather waved from a two-person table by the window. She looked great. Her hair was up in a French roll and she wore a tan business suit. Her face glowed.

  "Were you waiting long?"

  "No, just got here.” She pushed off the stool. “How about we order our sandwiches and then walk across the street to the park?"

  "Great idea."

  The two of them moved to the counter and ordered their food, then took it to go. They walked across the road. A play area sat in the middle with swings and a slide surrounded by eucalyptus trees that swayed in the breeze. They found an open picnic bench just left of the slide and took a seat.

  Daniel opened the paper wrapper on his Black Forest ham hoagie and looked at her. “So, I'm glad to see you're still talking to me."

  "I promised, didn't I?” She bit down on a pickle and winked.

  "Yeah, but I had my doubts."

  "Let's do ourselves a favor and not talk about that. Besides, I have news."

  He raised an eyebrow. “What?"

  "I have another date."

  "Really?” Every time she said that to him, his neck bristled. Granted he'd been doing that since before that stupid kiss so he chalked it up to worrying about her. “And how did you go about getting this one? Please don't tell me another ad."

  "Yes, except I answered the ad this time. Figured I'd have more control this way."

  He took a sip from his straw and looked out over the park. A few children played, their mothers close by making sure they were safe from harm. He felt like that with Heather. “Please be careful."

  She smirked. “Do I detect an ounce o
f concern for my well being?"

  He met her stare. “Of course, you're my best friend."

  "Well, no worries. I'm okay. This guy wanted a religious woman.” She lifted her tuna sandwich and took a bite.

  He couldn't get rid of the feeling that gnawed at his gut, nor could he define it. “Yeah, well, I hope you're right this time."

  * * * *

  Later that evening, Heather slid into the booth at a Chinese restaurant and smiled at the man across from her. She wouldn't call him gorgeous, but not hideous either. He was an Asian man with slightly thinning brown hair, crooked teeth, but nicely built, had great cheekbones, and intense golden-brown eyes.

  Okay, the three E's, here I go. “So, Craig, what do you do?"

  "I'm a fitness trainer."

  She raised an eyebrow. “Really? That's interesting. Do you like it?"

  He smiled. “Yeah. I served two four-year terms in the Marines and got used to staying in shape. Now I help others do the same."

  She toyed with the fork on her napkin. “Do you coach personal clients or work in a gym?"

  "Mostly, personal. A few celebrities even. It's great money.” He took a sip of ice water.

  "Not to pry but can you tell the name of a celebrity you've worked with."

  He shook his head. “They hire me because I don't talk about them."

  She nodded, disappointed.

  "And what do you do?"

  "I work in classifieds at the West County Times.” She giggled.

  A smiled crossed his face. “I see."

  The waitress approached and nodded. “Are you two ready to order?"

  Craig motioned that Heather should start.

  "Oh, um, I guess I'll have the wonton soup and the shrimp fried rice with extra chestnuts."

  She wrote on her pad and turned to Craig. “And what would you like, sir?"

  "Egg-drop soup and orange chicken, extra spicy, and a beer."

  Heather frowned.

  Craig looked at her. “I'm sorry. Did you want something to drink?"

  She flipped over the tiny teacup. “The Jasmine tea will be fine. Thank you."

  The waitress nodded and walked away.

  "Well, I'm intrigued by what you do.” He leaned forward on his elbows. “Is that why you work in classifieds, so you can get first dibs on all the men placing ads?"

  She laughed. “No. This is the first time I've done the picking."

  "I think I remember talking to you on the phone. You have a nice voice."

  Her cheeks warmed.

  The waitress brought a plate of dried noodles and sweet-and-sour sauce.

  "Thank you,” Heather said.

  She nodded and walked away again.

  "So, tell me about yourself.” She reached for a noodle and broke it in half. “What do you like to do, when you aren't out on blind dates?"

  "I'm kind of a quiet guy. I like to hike, read and occasionally write, but most of my extra time is spent working at my church."

  She could have clapped and hooted. “That's great. What church?"

  "Pure Land Buddhist Chapel."

  Her heart sunk to her knees. She almost couldn't speak. “You're Buddhist?"

  He smiled his crooked teeth, obviously very proud of that fact. A fact that made him no longer a possibility or appealing. Bringing him home would double her mother's matchmaking efforts. Why lead him on? No, she needed to clear this up now. “I'm sorry, but I've made a big mistake."

  "What's wrong?"

  "You seem like a really nice guy, Craig, but I'm a Christian."

  His pinched his lips together. “I see."

  "I'm glad you do.” She slid toward the end of the booth, but he caught her arm.

  "So, we probably won't get married and raise a family together, but we can still finish our meal, right?” He let go of her arm and poured some tea in her cup. “Come on, what's waiting for you at home? Another Friday night alone. Stay. Enjoy a night out."

  She stared at him a moment. He seemed harmless enough, easy to talk to, and if he was indeed a diehard Buddhist, it would probably be a peaceful evening. “Okay. I guess it wouldn't hurt."

  "Good. I'm glad.” He glanced at the waitress walking their way with two full plates. “Because the food has just arrived and it looks delicious."

  She laid her purse back and retrieved the cloth napkin. Maybe he was right; at least she wasn't at home feeling sorry for herself.

  They ate until they were stuffed, and not for one second, did the conversation lag. Overall, she had a wonderful time. If only they were religiously compatible. In the end, she opted to pay her half of the check. It was only right under the circumstances.

  She stuck out her hand. “Thank you for a nice evening, Craig, and for not letting me run away."

  He shook it and smiled. “It was a pleasure. I wish you luck on finding that Christmas companion."

  "Thanks, good night."

  Heather prayed her whole way home. She felt helpless. Maybe she was stupid to think she could find a guy in a month, and from a newspaper no less. She'd never had a serious boyfriend her whole life. Why did she think now was going to be any different?

  Her cell rang in her purse on the floorboard. She pulled it up on the seat and dug the phone out, trying to catch it before it stopped ringing. “Hello?"

  "Hi, Heather."

  "Hey, Noelle. What's up?” She pulled in her carport and turned off the engine.

  A baby cried in the background and Noelle practically yelled in the phone. Heather held it away from her ear as her friend talked. “I don't know if you're up to it or not, but I think I may have found you a date for tomorrow. If you're interested, of course."

  "Really? Who?"

  "His name is Kristopher Katan. Not the actor, mind you.” She giggled. “He's a guy I met in my church small group. He's a little bit shy, but pretty good-looking by my standards, and really fun to hang around. He said he was looking for someone to go sailing with this weekend and I mentioned your name. Are you interested?"

  With only a few weeks until her mother took over her dating life, she tried to find some excitement. “Sure, why not? Never been sailing before. When and where?"

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Seven

  Around ten, Daniel decided to call Heather. “Hey, friend."

  "Where are you?” she asked.

  "At home, watching reruns. Thought I'd call and see how your latest date went."

  Someone knocked at the door. “Hold on.” He jumped up, hoping it was Claudia. He opened it and laughed. “I guess you're home.” He snapped his phone closed and stepped back so Heather could enter.

  "Yeah, I had just pulled in the parking lot."

  "So, how'd it go?"

  "Well, this one was religious all right.” She flopped down on the couch, flinging her purse by the strap onto the coffee table. “He's a Buddhist."

  "No?” Daniel shut the door and sat across from her. “I guess you need the religious thing to be a bit more specific, huh?"

  "Ya’ think?"

  He rested his elbows on his thighs and leaned forward. “So this is it, right? No more placing or answering classified ads or accepting blind dates?"

  "Well, maybe no more classified ads...” She smiled a sheepish grin that made him instantly worry. “But I can't say no to the blind date thing."

  "Who now?"

  She twisted her lips to the side. “He's a friend of Noelle's. She knows him from her small group and he wants to take me sailing tomorrow."

  "Sailing? Huh?” Daniel laughed. “I thought you couldn't swim."

  "So? I plan to stay in the boat."

  He shook his head. “And you're not worried about falling overboard?"

  She grasped her hands together and pretended to swoon. “My prince charming, Kristopher Katan, will save me."

  Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Chris Katan, the comedian from Saturday Night Live?"

  She shook her head. “No. Don't be silly."

  "Ye
ah, well, be careful."

  "How many times are you going to say that to me? You're starting to sound like a scratched CD."

  He rolled his eyes. “How twenty-first century of you."

  "Why thanks."

  "Besides, I have the right to be concerned. You're my best friend."

  She grinned. “Yeah, I guess you've earned it a little, but please, stop worrying. This guy is a Christian so what's the worst that can happen?"

  * * * *

  Heather stared in her closet, unsure of what one wears sailing. She finally decided on a pair of white Capri pants and a royal blue T-shirt. It seemed to fit the occasion and she thought she looked rather cute. She lathered on sunscreen, put her hair in a French braid and finished her makeup. Her eyes caught sight of the time. Oh, no. She was supposed to be at the marina in twenty minutes. She checked her reflection one last time, grabbed her purse and ran out the door.

  Speeding a bit over the limit, Heather made it only a minute late. She parked in the lot and looked out over the water. It was gorgeous. Sailboats dotted the steel-blue water. Seagulls soared overhead in the clear sky, squawking their morning cry. The air felt crisp and smelled of fish and salt. I love San Diego. She couldn't wait to get out in the middle of the bay. It was probably the most amazing experience. Now she just had to find her captain.

  Heather pushed a pair of sunglasses high on her nose and ambled down the dock. For the most part, the marina seemed vacant. A few men cleaned their boats or readied for a day's journey, but most of the boats were closed up. The only sound came from the lapping of the water and birds in the air. She smiled to a few of the guys as she passed. They seemed friendly and waved back.

  Her eyes darted from one boat name to the other, in search of one called, “Blessed Wind.” Calypso. Mariah Chantilly. Starlight. Blessed Wind. Yes! She smiled. A white boat, with two sails, floated at the left side of the dock. She ran to the edge and peered in. “Hello?"

  There wasn't any movement.

  "Kris?"

  Nothing.

  She glanced around and decided to climb aboard. Her stomach flipped as she stared down at the water. This was stupid. What if she fell in? No one was here to rescue her. A round preserver lay to her right. She eyed it as she stepped on the boat. Her legs felt wobbly from the rocking, but she was able to steady herself and inch forward. “Kris? It's Heather Waterston. Noelle's friend from work. I was supposed to meet you here."