Page 68 of Where Dreams Begin

“No, I’d just like to know how an intelligent man might behave if his date disappeared.”

“Right. Okay, if the waitress couldn’t find you, I’d speak to the manager and ask him to conduct a discreet search. Should I consider the possibility of an alien abduction?”

“Aren’t people usually alone when that happens rather than in a popular restaurant?”

“Yes, I believe so, but it still might be too soon to rule it out.” He began slicing the peeled carrots into neat chucks as he continued. “Let’s say the manager searched the kitchen, pantry, employee bathrooms, under all the tables, and still didn’t find you. Then I’d suspect foul play and call the police.”

“Really?” She donned a pair of oven mitts and opened the oven to remove a baking dish filled with chicken breasts in a bubbling tomato and onion sauce. She sprinkled the grated cheese on top, returned the dish to the oven, and yanked off the mitts. She set the timer for five minutes.

“Wouldn’t it cross your mind I might have simply walked out on you?”

“No way. I know you, Catherine. You’re not the type to ditch a date. Even if I were the world’s biggest loser, you’d spare my feelings and concoct some believable excuse to return home early.”

He tossed the carrots into the salad bowl heaped with mixed greens, then grabbed a paper towel to dry his hands, and turned to face her. “Why don’t you just tell me what happened to your friend?”

“You understand this conversation goes no further?”

“Of course, if you should ever introduce us, I’ll feign complete ignorance of her romantic history.”

“Thank you. While we might not always agree, I trust you to keep your word.”

“That’s very generous of you, but quit stalling. Tell me about your friend.”

Despite his encouragement, Catherine doubted she could make him appreciate Joyce’s awful sense of betrayal. She needed a moment to gather her thoughts and then provided a condensed but highly dramatic version of her friend’s lunchtime ordeal.

He leaned back against the counter, listened attentively, and shook his head. “And her date just went ahead and ate lunch?”

The timer sounded and she again pulled on the mitts to remove the baked chicken from the oven. “Yes, although I don’t understand how he could have swallowed a bite.”

Once she’d closed the oven, Luke stepped up behind her. “And then he laughed about what had happened?”

“Along with his mother,” she stressed.

“So he’s an insensitive jerk,” he announced.

“Is that a question or a professional opinion?” She removed the lid from the pot of rice on the back of the stove and stirred it with a long-handled spoon.

He moved even closer to nuzzle the tender hollow behind her left ear. “This is why I don’t do couple’s therapy,” he whispered, “But I’ll give it my best shot. The guy made a major blunder, but maybe he’s been ditched a lot and just couldn’t deal with it. It’s possible he’s well-known at that restaurant was just trying to save face when his date disappeared.”

Catherine leaned against him. “Are you taking his side?”

“Absolutely not. His actions were unforgivable, but sometimes guys screw up.”

“That’s precisely what my friend told him, but in more emphatic terms.”

“I’ll bet. What does she want to do now, rehabilitate him, or continue her search for Mr. Perfect?”

“She feels betrayed and is too hurt to think. There’s a great line from a Phish song: every betrayal begins with trust.”

“She’d naturally feel betrayed, but what does she intend to do about it?”

“Other than cry?” His kiss tickled her ear, and she couldn’t suppress a giggle.

He slid his arms around her waist. “A lot of women don’t realize that even good-looking young men might not date that often. Most days they work long hours, order a pizza and fall into bed, or they hang out with their friends, have a few beers and shoot pool.

“Then along comes a woman they just have to pursue. Unfortunately, they don’t go about it very well. They make some colossal gaff, the woman won’t speak to them again, and they’re right back to the pizza and pool. Until another irresistible young woman appears, only they haven’t learned a damn thing about themselves or women, and they make the same pitiful mistake again. If they’re lucky, eventually a smart woman will gently nudge them in the right direction.”

They were having a serious discussion, but with him pressed so close to her back, she found it difficult to think at all. Being sandwiched between his seductive heat and that of the stove was almost more than she could bear.

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