Page 14 of Summer Weddings
Cole had been on her mind a great deal during the past couple of days; she’d spent far too much time dwelling on her neighbor, thinking about his reputation in the neighborhood and the son he’d lost.
The tranquillity of the moment was shattered by the insistent ringing of the phone. Robin walked briskly to the kitchen, set her coffee on the counter and picked up the receiver.
“Hello.”
“Robin, it’s Angela. I’m not catching you at a bad time, am I?”
“No,” Robin assured her. Angela worked in the same department as Robin, and over the years they’d become good friends. “What can I do for you?” she asked, as if she didn’t already know.
“I’m calling to invite you to dinner—”
“On Saturday so I can meet your cousin Frank,” Robin finished, rolling her eyes. Years before, Angela had taken on the task of finding Robin a husband. Never mind that Robin wasn’t interested in meeting strangers! Angela couldn’t seem to bear the thought of anyone spending her life alone and had appointed herself Robin’s personal matchmaker.
“Frank’s a really nice guy,” Angela insisted. “I wouldn’t steer you wrong, you know I wouldn’t.”
Robin restrained herself from reminding her friend of the disastrous date she’d arranged several weeks earlier.
“I’ve known Frank all my life,” Angela said. “He’s decent and nice.”
Decentandnicewere two words Robin had come to hate. Every man she’d ever met in this kind of arrangement was either decent or nice. Or both. Robin had come to think the two words were synonymous with dull, unattractive and emotionally manipulative. Generally these were recently divorced men who’d willingly placed themselves in the hands of family and friends to get them back into circulation.
“Didn’t you tell me that Frank just got divorced?” Robin asked.
“Yes, about six months ago.”
“Not interested.”
“What do you mean you’re not interested?” Angela demanded.
“I don’t want to meet him. Angela, I know you mean well, and I apologize if I sound like a spoilsport, but I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve had to nurse the fragile egos of recently divorced men. Most of the time they’re emotional wrecks.”
“But Frank’s divorce was final months ago.”
“If you still want me to meet him in a year, I’ll be more than happy to have you arrange a dinner date.”
Angela released a ragged sigh. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
There was a short disappointed silence. “Fine,” Angela said in obvious frustration. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Right.” Because she felt guilty, Robin added, “I’ll bring the coffee.”
“Okay.”
Robin lingered in the kitchen, frowning. She hated it when her friends put her on the spot like this. It was difficult enough to say no,but knowing that Angela’s intentions were genuine made it even worse. Just as she was struggling with another attack of guilt, the phone rang again. Angela! Her friend must have suspected that Robin’s offer to buy the coffee was a sign that she was weakening.
Gathering her fortitude, Robin seized the receiver and said firmly, “I’m not interested in dating Frank. I don’t want to be rude, but that’s final!”
Her abrupt words were followed by a brief shocked silence, and then, “Robin, hello, this is Cole Camden.”
“Cole,” she gasped, closing her eyes. “Uh, I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else. A friend.” She slumped against the wall and covered her face with one hand. “I have this friend who’s always trying to arrange dates for me, and she doesn’t take no for an answer,” Robin quickly explained. “I suppose you have friends wanting to arrange dates for you, too.”
“Actually, I don’t.”
Of course he didn’t. No doubt there were women all over San Francisco who longed to go out with Cole. He didn’t require a personal matchmaker. All someone like him had to do was look interested and women would flock to his side.
Her hand tightened around the receiver and a sick weightless feeling attacked the pit of her stomach. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to shout in your ear.”
