An Accidental Kiss (Dearly Beloved) by Dawn Douglas Page B

a new dress and everything.”
    “What’s your name, young lady?”
    “Justine.”
    “Justine, it just wouldn’t be fair of me to take your mom out. I’m really not good company right now.”
    “Fine. Been there, done that myself but could you let her be the one to do the rejecting? Trust me, she’ll reject you. My mother has a deep seated, underlying hostility toward all men.”
    “She does?”
    “Ever since my father dumped her when I was two. I think at some level Mom believes she’d like Mr. Right to come along, but with her attitude it’s never going to happen. And then there’s her age to consider.”
    “She’s—how old?”
    “Forty-five.”
    “Well, I’m fifty,” he said.
    “No offense.”
    Frank grinned. “So your mother is old and has an attitude problem. Anything else I should know?”
    “She’s checked out one of your books, The Man from Laredo, from the library where she works, even though she thinks westerns suck. She was reading it on the couch last night and groaning. Look, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Frank, but—”
    “Go ahead.”
    “She says your book is a pile of crap and she doesn’t know why she let Grandma talk her into this again, that you’ll probably turn up wearing a ten gallon hat and a pair of spurs.”
    “I see.”
    “Oh—wait. She’s walking in the door right now.”
    Frank heard the sound of a heavy door opening, then closing. There was a jangle of keys and the noise of footsteps crossing the room. “Could you put her on?” he said.
    “Mom!” Justine yelled. “It’s for you.”
    “Who is it?” a woman’s voice inquired, but Justine had already handed over the phone.
    “It’s Frank Anderson,” he said. “I know you just walked in. This won’t take long.”
    “Oh, okay,” she said, sounding a little flustered.
    He floundered for the right words, but they eluded him. On the other end of the line he heard Marcy Garrett’s soft breaths as she waited. It was as if he could feel her sadness coming down the line, the loneliness she felt every night as she climbed into bed with nobody to kiss goodnight. He knew exactly how that felt. Frank closed his eyes, giving up. His mouth opened, and words came spilling out as if of their own accord.
    “Do you like Chinese?”
    ****
    Marcy wondered if she was overdressed for a first date in a Chinese restaurant. She was wearing a black, scoop-necked knee-length dress teamed with the silver pendant Justine had given her for Christmas. Her hair was a complete mess, all straggly and lank. She hadn’t been able to do a thing with it tonight.
    As she shoved open the heavy, dragon-guarded double doors of the Jade Wok, Marcy glanced nervously around the lobby. She wasn’t nervous that he wouldn’t turn up—somehow, from their brief conversation, she felt absolutely sure that Frank Anderson wasn’t the kind of man who would stand a woman up. He just hadn’t arrived yet. She was nervous about what might happen after he did turn up.
    A waiter looked at her, one eyebrow raised.
    “I’m waiting for someone, he should be here any minute—”she began, and as if on cue, the doors behind her opened, letting in a rush of chilly night air.
    Marcy turned, and her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t so much that he was good-looking, his features were too rough and irregular for that. It was more a matter of his presence, his tallness, the grave intensity of his dark blue gaze. He gave a slight nod in her direction. He had thick, ruffled graying hair and he ran his hands through it as if annoyed.
    “Marcy Garrett?”
    For a moment, she was too flummoxed to know her own name but managed to nod. “You must be Frank!” she blurted, inwardly cringing at how stupid she sounded.
    He didn’t bother to dignify her words with a response. They were shown to a table and handed menus. He glanced around.
    “It’s nice in here, isn’t it?” she gabbled. “The decor is very restrained for a Chinese restaurant—of