The Marriage Portrait. Pamela Bauer

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The Marriage Portrait - Pamela Bauer Mills & Boon American Romance

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to meet me,” she reminded him.

      “If I bring one over does that mean you’ll get a refund from this Claudia person?”

      “That’s not funny, Michael.”

      He hadn’t meant it to be but didn’t have the heart to tell her that. He struggled to find the right words. “I’m not much for dinners with strangers, Mom.”

      “It’s simply an opportunity to meet people with similar interests as you.”

      “I don’t think I’ll meet them through some dating service.”

      “You don’t know that, Michael. Louella says that her cousin Margaret’s son Dennis—you know, the one who’s the optometrist? Well, he was skeptical, just like you. But he went to Dinner Date and guess what?” She paused, waiting for him to ask what.

      He didn’t.

      “He met a nice young accountant and they’re planning to get married next year.”

      He could feel his collar tightening. “That’s fine for Louella’s cousin’s whatever…” He trailed off impatiently. “But I like to choose my own dates.”

      “This isn’t a date,” she corrected him. “It’s simply an opportunity to have dinner and meet new people.” She got to her feet to go over to the bureau. She pulled a pamphlet from the drawer and gave it to him. “Here. You can read about it for yourself.”

      Michael took one look at the Dinner Date brochure and set it aside with a grimace. “I really don’t want to read about it.”

      “You don’t want my gift to you?” From the look of horror on her face, Michael would have thought he’d asked her to put dear old Cleo to sleep.

      He wanted to say no, that he wasn’t going to go to any arranged dinner of single people, but there was something about the look in her eyes that stopped him. He raked a hand across the back of his neck. “I hate the thought of you spending money on something like this.”

      “But this is the way I want to spend my money,” she assured him. “You work far too many nights and weekends, helping this one or helping that one,” she said with a flourish of her hand in midair. “Please let me give you a nice evening out with young people your own age. Just one dinner where you can talk to others who share your interests.”

      He wanted to refuse. Going to dinner with seven strangers who were looking for love through a dating service was not how he wanted to spend a Saturday evening. Yet Tessie never asked for much. She’d raised him ever since he was a small boy, giving him the love and care his own mother hadn’t been able to give to him. How could he say no?

      “I really wish you hadn’t spent your money on this,” he said, tapping the side of the invitation against the table.

      “It’s worth it if it makes you happy,” she said, coming over to give him a kiss on the cheek.

      Only it didn’t make him happy, yet he couldn’t tell her that. She’d been so excited to give him the gift. She had no idea how much he disliked the idea.

      “You are going to go to the dinner, aren’t you?”

      Every instinct inside him wanted him to say no, but before he could say another word, there was a knock at the door.

      “I wonder who that could be?” Tessie said aloud, looking as if she knew exactly who was at the door.

      Michael’s glance flew to the sideboard. “Probably someone who heard you’d baked two pies.”

      She flitted out of the room. When she returned she was accompanied by half a dozen gray-haired women. The Mums had arrived.

      To Michael’s dismay, they came with a gift. After greeting each of them and receiving more birthday hugs, he opened the package. Inside was a shirt and tie.

      “For your dinner on Saturday,” Louella told him with a twinkle in her eye.

      Michael almost said, “I’m not going to dinner on Saturday,” but the group of women gathered around him were the dearest ladies he knew. They’d been mothering him almost as long as Tessie had been.

      So instead of telling them he could get a date without their help, he simply said, “Thank you. This will make me look like a man about town.”

      They all smiled and ate their lemon meringue pie. Michael knew his chances of getting out of the dinner were between slim and next to none. But Lynn was going on vacation, which meant he’d be the vet on call next weekend.

      Maybe there was hope.

      Chapter Two

      Normally the clinic was open until three on Saturdays. Oftentimes that wasn’t near long enough. Pets—like humans—frequently needed treatment on weekends after the office was closed and Michael did his best to accommodate them.

      Only on this particular Saturday, business was very slow. As the hands on the clock moved toward closing time, he knew that unless an emergency arose, he wasn’t going to be able to use work as an excuse for not going to the dinner Tessie had arranged. Nor could he say he lost track of time and forgot. His mother called him at least four times to remind him of her birthday gift.

      “It’s certainly been a quiet Saturday, hasn’t it?” Tabitha commented as she sprayed disinfectant over the surgical table. “Hope that doesn’t mean you’re going to have a crazy night. You are on call, right?”

      Michael nodded. “Lynn’s out of town for the weekend.”

      “Well, let’s hope you’re lucky and you can enjoy what’s left of yours without any interruptions.”

      Little did she know that an interruption was exactly what he needed. Unsure of how to approach the subject, he said, “I was wondering if you could do me a favor this evening?”

      “What kind of favor?”

      “Could you page me at eight o’clock?”

      “I guess, but why?” She fixed him with a perplexed stare.

      “Let’s just say I’m in a bit of a predicament that I need to get out of without hurting anybody’s feelings.”

      “Oh, I get it. I’ll page you and you’ll go to a phone, pretend to call and then announce to whoever it is you’re with that you have to leave. Is that it?” A sly twinkle danced in her eye.

      He felt like a fool for having to ask, especially because he could see by the look on her face that she thought he’d gotten himself involved with a woman and didn’t know how to extricate himself.

      He debated as to whether or not he should tell her the truth. Tabitha had been a loyal employee for six years, yet he was not naive enough to believe she didn’t talk with the other women in the office.

      “That’s it. And it’s not what you’re thinking.”

      “It isn’t?”

      “No.

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