office when I arrived. He often comes into the OB/GYN’s office where I work. Definitely not the most handsome guy I’ve ever seen (especially with the glasses he wears), Marcus is around 5'11" and sort of lanky, particularly compared to me.
Some label my body type as thick, which means curvy in all the right places. My mother said we’re just big-boned people. “Absolutely nothing to be ashamed of,” Mama always said. It’s never bothered me. After all, Marilyn Monroe was a size fourteen, same as me.
Marcus seemed like an all right guy. He was usually trying to push (what I assumed) his pharmaceutical products on my boss, who must be too nice to tell him to buzz off. But lately, every time he has come in here with his fancy briefcase in hand, he has tried to strike up more and more conversation with me.
Two months ago, he asked if I was married or dating anyone. Having just broken up with Cass a few weeks earlier, my answer pretty much conveyed that not only was I not dating anyone, but that I wasn’t interested in dating anyone anytime soon. He promptly dropped that line of questioning for a few weeks. Then it happened. Today, in fact.
When Marcus walked into Dr. Brewer’s office, he stepped over to my desk and without his customary hi or how are you said, “How about you and I go out on a date.”
I flashed him a quick fake, polite smile, and replied, “Thanks, but no thanks.” Who says I can’t say no and mean it?
He nodded as he smiled back at me. “Oh, I see. You must only be interested in the kind of guys who like to break your heart, then leave you to put the pieces back together,” Marcus said.
For someone who reminded me at best of a reformed nerd, at worst of someone almost anyone could take down in a fight, that statement took me totally by surprise.
“No. I’m just not interested in you,” I said, pointing my finger at him on cue with the word you, not caring whether my words hurt his feelings. I was on a roll today: two no’s in a row.
Instead of scurrying away the way I expected he would do, he set his briefcase down on my desk. “And how do you know that?”
My eyes immediately went to the briefcase, then back to him. “A woman knows these things,” I said, rolling my chair back away from him just a tad. He’d gotten a little too close for my comfort.
“Just as I suspected. You’re one of those women who will never give a good man a chance. That way, you can have your beliefs validated about all the men who have hurt you and feel justified without those beliefs ever being challenged.”
What did he do that for? I was just about to say something smart like “Is that right, Dr. Phil?” when he suddenly took off his glasses. It’s amazing how glasses can change a person’s looks entirely. Right before my eyes, in just that instant, Marcus Peeples was transformed from Clark Kent into Superman—I kid you not. I noticed for the first time his hair, cut low and sort of wavy, most likely with the help of a wave cap. I took note of how perfect his hairstyle fit his caramel-colored face. His goatee, which I hadn’t paid attention to, was perfect for his triangular jaw. But it was those long, thick, black eyelashes framing those gorgeous, twinkling brown eyes that now had me completely fixated and, quite frankly, at a loss for words. Dr. Phil who?
I scooted my chair back a little bit more, smiled, then shook my head to emphasize that his assessment of me and my situation was totally wrong as I tried to right my ship. He’d gotten me a little off course.
He placed his hand on his briefcase. “One date,” Marcus said. “Come on. What do you have to lose?” He flashed me a big smile. Near-perfect white teeth, and I declare one of them appeared to have twinkled.
I maintained my coolness, breathing evenly as I began to speak. “One, huh?”
He held up his index finger. “One. And you can choose the time and the place. If you find we have nothing in common or that you don’t like me, then no harm, no foul. So, what do you say?”
I had to snap out of this, and quick. I had to take back control. “Okay,” I said slowly, not wanting to answer too quickly. “How about tonight?”
“Tonight?” He sounded as though that had caught him completely off guard. I sensed I was definitely interfering with some already laid plans.
Good! Last-minute dates usually get the ones who aren’t really serious every single time. “I’m sorry. Is that a problem for you?” I projected a look of true concern and sincerity. “Do you already have something planned for tonight? Because if you do…”
“I did, but for you, I’ll change it. Tonight works for me. So where would you like to go?”
I couldn’t help but grin. “How about Bible study, my church? And we need to be there by seven o’clock.” I crossed my arms. Body language experts would likely say I was putting up a barrier between us. I’d classify it as expressing my confidence as I had officially regained control.
He began to chuckle. “Oh,” he sang the word, “so, you’re one of those kind of women, huh?”
“Those kind? Is church a problem for you?” I could tell despite his smile and chuckle that I’d unnerved him slightly. Double good!
He continued to grin. “No problem. I said you could choose the place. I want you to see that I’m a man of my word.” He took out his business card and handed it to me.
“I’m sure Dr. Brewer already has your card on file,” I said.
“He does, but this card is for you.” He took out his Black-Berry. “Now, if I could get your home address?” He looked at me and saw what I imagine had to be a defensive expression on my face. “Miss Melissa Anderson, I need your home address so I can pick you up tonight. That’s what real men do.” A boyish grin broke across his face again.
I looked at his card before glancing back at him. He put his glasses on and he was instantly transformed back into the harmless Clark Kent. The information on his card was personable enough. He had his home address and both a home and a cell phone number listed. A home number given—not fool-proof by any means but a positive sign—was generally a good indication that he wasn’t some married man trying to find a way to sneak around on his wife. I don’t play that other-woman stuff. Got burned once accidentally. I vowed never again if I could help it.
Still, I weighed whether or not I should give him my home address at this point. After all, there are plenty of crazies running around in this world. On the other hand, I did sort of know him, so he wasn’t a total stranger. He’d been in here at least ten times that I know of—sometimes when patients were here, most times before office hours began. He seemed a decent enough guy.
I rattled off my home address as he keyed it into his Black-Berry.
All right now, Mr. Marcus Peeples. Let’s just see how much you like Bible study at Followers of Jesus Faith Worship Center as a first date. I already sensed, based on the way he had reacted when I mentioned the word “church” that this was going to be fun.
Chapter 2
There was a man in the land of Uz, whose name was Job; and that man was perfect and upright, and one that feared God, and eschewed evil.
—Job 1:1
Any woman who will be truly honest knows at least one good man who’s gotten a bad
