ruffled his hair. ‘‘Sorry. No. You can’t hit women.’’
‘‘But she deserves it.’’
‘‘So do you sometimes, but I don’t hit you.’’
He straightened. ‘‘That’s because I’m the same height as you and I’m a tough guy.’’
Beth stared at her baby, who actually was almost her height. Jodi had reached five eight and stopped, but Matt was going to easily pass six feet.
Matt took a step back. ‘‘She’s got that look, Jo. The one where she starts talking about how cute we were when we were little. You’d better run for it.’’
The sound of a car engine distracted them all. Beth felt her stomach dive-bomb her toes. Dear Lord, she was going to throw up.
‘‘He’s here,’’ Matt called as he raced to the front of the house. ‘‘It’s a limo, Mom,’’ he yelled back. ‘‘Black and really cool looking. So how rich is this guy anyway? You think he wants to buy me a car?’’
Jodi touched her arm. ‘‘You’ll be fine. You look great. Just smile. If there’s a lull in conversation, ask about him. Guys love to talk about themselves.’’
‘‘How do you know all this?’’ Beth asked.
Jodi grinned. ‘‘I’m repeating the advice you always give me. It works.’’
Beth could feel her chest tightening. She was going to pass out or something equally embarrassing. ‘‘At least I raised my kids right,’’ she said as she kissed her daughter’s cheek.
She walked slowly toward the front door. Matt knelt on the sofa facing the window and motioned for her to come look out with him. ‘‘The driver is turning the car around at the end of the cul de sac. You can’t see in the windows or anything. This is so great. Maybe you could really date this guy, Mom. I’d pretend not to like him and he’d give me money to change my mind. What do you think?’’
She bent over and kissed the top of his head. ‘‘I think you have a great imagination, which is why I push you so hard when you write those English papers. I know what you’re capable of.’’
‘‘I wonder if the driver is in a uniform and everything,’’ Matt said, ignoring her comment. ‘‘How much do you think Mike paid for this date?’’
Beth didn’t want to wonder about that. She didn’t want to think about the fact that she wasn’t ready for this at all. She didn’t want to think about the fact that Todd Graham was going to take one look at her and run in the opposite direction, or at least wish that he could. He went through postadolescent models the way other people went through tissues, tossing them into the trash when they got a little used.
She reminded herself this was for charity. That if Todd hadn’t wanted to go on a date, he shouldn’t have been in the bachelor auction to begin with. Then she repeated Cindy’s words that this was just practice…nothing more. Better to get the first-night jitters over with someone who didn’t matter. And if it got really, really horrible, she would just walk out of the restaurant, get a cab and come home. She’d made sure she had enough cash in her purse.
She drew in one deep breath for courage, walked to the front door, flipped on the porch light…and waited.
Chapter Two
Todd Graham glanced out of the tinted limousine window and realized that, until this particular moment in time, he’d never been in the suburbs before. Looks like he hadn’t missed much.
Two-story brick houses lined the residential street. The architecture was all similar, with the painted trims ranging from white to ivory. The trees lined up perfectly, there were minivans and sedans parked in the driveways. So this was Middle America. Who would have thought it was only twenty-five minutes away from his high-rise penthouse?
His driver drew the vehicle to a stop in front of a house that looked much like all the others on the street. Todd decided that despite the sameness to the construction, the neighborhood wasn’t unappealing…in its own way. If only he could say the same about his date. Middle-aged women were not his style, but he’d been coerced into the charity bachelor auction and he couldn’t think of a good excuse to back out of his date.
He already resigned himself to a long and boring evening. At least he had a seven-thirty golf game the following morning, which gave him the perfect excuse to cut things short. They were going straight to the restaurant, then straight back here. He ignored the flicker of guilt that reminded him the price paid for an evening with him should at least include going somewhere nice for drinks, either before or after, but Todd didn’t think he could stand that much insipid conversation.
R.J., his driver, opened the rear door and Todd stepped out into the humid Texas evening. Even though the sun had set nearly an hour before, several people were still outside. The sound of laughter drew his attention. He glanced to his left and saw a father wrestling with his son on the front lawn of their house. The boy looked maybe five or six. They were both having a great time.
Todd paused in midstride to stare. The stab of loneliness was so familiar, he barely registered the pain. There had been a time when he’d longed for a relationship with his own father. But the old man had never had time for anything but the newest Mrs. Graham, whomever she might be that month. Certainly he’d never bothered to notice he had a son growing up in his house.
Todd dismissed the emotion, looked away from the family and headed toward the front door of the brick house. The sooner he got this date started, the sooner it would be over.
‘‘Mr. Graham?’’ R.J. said from behind him, then handed Todd a box of long-stemmed red roses.
‘‘Thanks.’’ Todd had nearly forgotten. He didn’t see the point in bringing flowers, but his secretary had insisted and he didn’t often argue with her.
He rang the bell and waited. Less than ten seconds later the door opened. He was face-to-face with his date for the evening.
He gave her a quick once-over, returned his attention to her face and offered her a smile. ‘‘Good evening, Beth. I’m Todd Graham.’’
She was much as he’d expected. Maybe a little younger looking, but not by much. Her dress was navy and cream. It hinted at a full figure, not fat, but more curvy than he was used to or liked. The red hair was interesting, although he preferred blondes. She had great eyes, a nice deep blue. She looked like what she was—an attractive suburban middle-aged woman. It was, he reminded himself, only one date.
‘‘Nice to meet you.’’ Her voice was low and a little tense. ‘‘I, um—’’ She hesitated. ‘‘Would you in?’’
He absolutely didn’t want to, but he was determined to be polite. ‘‘Sure. Just for a minute. We have reservations in town.’’
‘‘How nice.’’ She stepped back and motioned him inside.
He moved into a small foyer. He had a brief impression of uninteresting furniture, smallish spaces, not much in the way of decorating. Again, about what he’d expected. ‘‘These are for you,’’ he said, and handed her the florist’s box.
She opened
