Linda Turner - Beneath The Surface

“I should shoot you both,” he growled. “You should have never spent so much money without discussing it with me first. Now I’m stuck with this.”

“So you’ll go?” Carter asked in surprise.

“What choice do I have?” he retorted. “I’m not going to let you guys waste that kind of money. But it’s not going to do any good, you know,” he added grimly. “I’ll never love anyone but Faith.”

Relieved, Patty stepped close to give him a fierce hug. “All we ask is that you give it a chance. Who knows? You might meet someone who’ll make life worth living again.”

Logan sincerely doubted that, but she was so pleased, he hated to burst her bubble. “What do I have to do?”

“Go to the dating service office and take a psychological test,” Carter said, handing him the prepaid contract. “A counselor’s already been assigned to you—she’s just waiting for your call.”

Rolling his eyes, Logan held the contract out in front of him as if it were going to bite him. “Just what I need—a psychological test. Maybe I’ll flunk it.”

Carter laughed. “Fat chance. You’re saner than anyone I know.”

Logan wasn’t so sure of that. If he’d had an ounce of sanity, he would never agree to go to a dating service!

Still, he kept his word and headed for the place. When he arrived twenty minutes later, however, he couldn’t bring himself to go in. This was crazy! Why hadn’t he thought to offer Patty and Carter their money back? It would cost him a tidy sum, but it would be worth it if it meant he didn’t have to pretend to be looking for a date.

“It’s safe to go inside,” a quiet feminine voice said. “They’re really quite nice.”

Looking up, Logan blinked at the sight of the woman holding the door for him. Slim and petite, with curly, dark auburn hair arranged in a thick braid down her back, she had a shy smile and understanding brown eyes that, for some reason, reminded him of Faith.

Taken aback by the thought, he frowned. What the devil was wrong with him? She looked nothing like his wife! His subconscious was just playing tricks on him and making him feel guilty for even thinking about dating another woman.

“Nothing personal,” he said dryly, “but I can think of a thousand other places I’d rather be.”

“Oh, I agree,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes. “Like the dentist.”

“Actually, I was thinking the opera, but the dentist will do.” Wishing he could stand there and chat just to keep from having to go inside, he forced a smile that held little humor. “I guess there’s no point in putting it off.”

“It’s better to get it over with,” she agreed. “Good luck.”

“My luck ran out a year ago,” he said flatly, “but thanks, anyway.”

With that cryptic comment, he turned and walked into the dating service. He’d hardly given his name to the receptionist when he was shown into the office of Nancy Hartfield, the counselor who’d been assigned to help him find Miss Right.

“So you’re Logan,” she said with a friendly smile, rising from her desk to shake hands with him. “It’s a pleasure meeting you. Your sister was afraid you wouldn’t come anywhere near the place when you found out what she and your brother had done.”

“I almost didn’t,” he retorted. “I’m not looking for a date, let alone a wife.”

“Well, that’s blunt enough,” she said wryly. “Obviously, Patty was right to be worried.”

“There’s a reason she and Carter didn’t tell me what they were up to until it was too late,” he said dryly. “They knew I’d never go for it.”

“But you’re here,” she pointed out. “Obviously you intend to participate.”

“Under protest. As much as I’d like to walk away, I can’t. This cost my brother and sister too much money.”

“I’m sure they appreciate that. And who knows? You may find a way to make the best of the situation. Just because you’re not looking for a date doesn’t mean you won’t make friends with some of the women we set you up with.”

Placing the psychological test in front of him, she explained how his answers would be fed into a computer, then matched with women whose test results were compatible with his. “So it’s very important that you answer the questions as honestly as possible. Even though you’re not looking for a date, we don’t want this to be a complete waste of time for you. Shall we begin?”

Resigned, he had little choice but to agree. Over the course of the next two hours, he answered questions about his likes and dislikes, politics, religious beliefs, ethics, even his plans for retirement. By the time he finished, he felt as if the dating service knew him better than his own family did.

Nancy immediately entered the results into the company database, and the computer spat out names of five candidates who might become the woman of his dreams. As far as Logan was concerned, that position had already been filled and a replacement wasn’t possible, but he obliging took the list, folded it and put it in his pocket.

Watching him, the counselor smiled. “At this point, I normally tell clients they can request another list of possible dates whenever they like, if they feel they’re not compatible with any of the previous matches made by the computer. But you’re different. I have an idea you’re not going to even look at the list, let alone call any of the women on it.”

“No, I’ll make some calls,” Logan assured her. “I gave Carter and Patty my word. I never said anything about being enthusiastic about the process. This wasn’t my idea, remember?”

To her credit, Nancy didn’t try to convince him to give the service more of a chance. Smiling slightly, she said, “Well, I guess that’s it, then. Good Luck.”

Surprised, he lifted a brow at her. “What? No pictures? Don’t most dating services take a picture to show the prospective dates?”

“We’re old-fashioned,” she replied simply. “We prefer to match people according to personality, not looks. That’s why we’re more successful than the others.”

He didn’t care how successful they were, they were going to strike out with him, Logan thought as he walked out of the building with a sigh of relief. Thank God that was over! He hadn’t lied to Nancy Hartfield. He would call some of the women on the list…in his own good time. Maybe he’d get around to it next week, when he had nothing better to do.

But twenty minutes later, when he unlocked the front door to the home he and Faith had shared for fifteen years, silence hit him like a slap in the face, just as it had every day since his wife had died. He tried to tell himself that it wasn’t so bad—he was getting used to it.

But the quiet made the house seem empty and cold, and loneliness tugged at his heart. Without thinking, he headed for the kitchen to grab a beer from the refrigerator. He’d just popped the lid on the can and started to lift it to his mouth when his gaze fell on the trash can next to the stove. It was nearly overflowing with empty beer cans.

Startled, he froze, scowling. Had he drunk that much beer over the last few days? He couldn’t have. Sure, he had a couple when he came home at night because he was lonely and he missed Faith so much, but there was nothing wrong with that. It wasn’t as if he was a drunk. He could control himself.

Oh, really? a voice in his head drawled. Then why didn’t you? What would Faith think if she could see you now?

The answer to that was a no-brainer. She’d be thoroughly disgusted with him.

Logan couldn’t say he’d have blamed her. He was pretty disgusted himself. This wasn’t who he was. At least, he never had been in the past. He wasn’t a teetotaler, but he’d never made it a practice to drink regularly, either. Or at least he hadn’t until Faith died.