Crystal Green - Mystery Date

Looking at her brought back a time before his life had crashed down all around him, not just once with his dad’s death but twice with his wife’s.

Leigh seemed content to play along with his setup as she washed her hands, then dried them.

He spoke into his own disposable cell phone and leaned back against a wall, not moving, never giving himself away.

“How about you open up that honey wine that’s still in the fridge?”

She glanced at the phone, and for a moment he felt a little envious that it was getting all the attention, not “Callum,” the name he’d given her. It’d been his paternal grandfather’s name and safe enough that it wouldn’t provide a strong connection if she should pop it into a computer to do some research on him.

“That wine’s for after dinner,” she said, moving over to the fridge and taking out a bottle of Chardonnay. “But I like a nip or two of the drier stuff while I’m cooking, so don’t mind if I do.”

“You don’t drink on your show.”

“Producer’s choice. They don’t want to encourage reckless cooking.”

She smiled as she poured herself a glass, then lifted it in a toast.

“To you, wherever you are.”

She tipped her glass to all four corners of the room, and when she got to where he was hidden, he went even stiller than before, as if she had somehow discovered him.

But that was ridiculous. And it was heart-poundingly exciting to feel as if he’d almost gotten caught.

She took a sip, then set down the glass, reaching for one of her honey jars and unscrewing the lid. He knew that she was going to give him his money’s worth with some corn bread, a salad, balsamic honey–glazed lamb chops, spicy honey-roasted cauliflower and, ultimately, a honeycomb cake.

An impetuous thought kicked him: What would she do if he appeared down there by her side to eat dinner with her?

The notion made his chest feel as if it had closed right up. He wouldn’t be showing himself. He liked this so-called date as it was—flirting, seduction by shadow, no responsibilities in the end, just as if he were on the computer having yet another virtual encounter.

Maybe, as Beth said, he was warped.

Leigh had turned on the oven and was now greasing a pan for the bread.

“So what’s with you and Beth?” she said, a lilt in her voice.

She was flirting with him. He couldn’t be wrong about that, because little by little, as she had taken a tour of this house, he’d sensed her warming up to his voice.

“Beth is a friend—” he started to say.

“I know, I know.” She put the bread pan aside and cleaned her hands. “Friends and professional associates. But she’s a beautiful woman, too. Don’t you ever...?”

His shields went up at the mere suggestion of a romantic relationship with anyone. “No. Never.”

Leigh’s posture stiffened.

Recovering, he said, “First, Beth is like a big sister to me. Second, she’s not into my type.”

Leigh seized on that. “What type is that?”

He smiled at her perseverance. “Men.”

Leigh’s mouth formed an O. But then she went right back to cooking, measuring flour in a cup and dumping it into the bowl. “That’s funny, because when Beth showed up at the auction and bid on my basket, everyone thought...you know...that she was bidding on me.”

“Under any other circumstances, that could’ve been the case. But she considers herself unlucky in love and hasn’t been serious about anyone for a while. There’s just too much work to do for me, she says. Supposedly, the hours she puts in make it hard to find a meaningful relationship.”

“You sound like quite a taskmaster.”

“I’m not the one who keeps her at her desk overtime. She’s a workaholic.”

By now Leigh had poured the cornmeal into the bowl. “You met her back in college? When you were a Phi Rho Mu brother and she was a Tau Epsilon Gamma sister?”

Leigh sure wasn’t shy about digging for information, no matter how many brick walls she ran into.

“We crossed paths briefly at Cal-U.” He wasn’t going to tell Leigh that Beth had been born and raised in a town near his and that he’d met her only once at a party during pledging but had found her résumé online later.

That had been five years ago, just after he’d gotten married.

After adding sugar and baking powder to the bowl, Leigh asked, “What were you like in school?”

“You really think I’m going to answer that?”

“I had to give it a shot.” She laughed and made a well in the center of the dry ingredients. Every move captured his attention, enchanting him, especially with that country-girl blouse she was wearing—the one that gave him a tempting peek of cleavage and tanned stomach.

“Do you have black hair?” she asked. “Because that’s how I’m picturing you. A very Callum-like dark Irish guy, like Riley Donahue but a bit more roguish. Remember Riley? Nice guy, ag-business major?”

“I heard through the grapevine that he’s engaged to Danielle Hughes.”

“See, you were around the university when I was.”

He didn’t confirm or deny. “You’ve got the color of my hair right, at least. I’ll give you that much.”

“Good. Sounds like I’m finally getting somewhere.”

Her happiness made him want to give her more, but he would no doubt regret giving her too much.

She was on a roll, though. “What do you do for a living?”

“I invite women over to rental houses and watch them cook. It’s a fetish.”

She really laughed at that, and he realized that she was sincerely enjoying herself.

And him. And this date. She wasn’t afraid of either one. In fact, he was bringing joy to a woman when he hadn’t done so for a long, long time, and he was doing it with only his voice.

But, again, this whole thing was temporary, and he had to keep that in mind.

After her laugh trailed off, a seemingly endless pause reigned. Was it because she realized that he’d used the word fetish? She’d given him a similar hesitation earlier when he’d laid that opening line on her—a thinly veiled allusion to coming.

But he’d only been testing her when she’d entered the house, seeing how much she was going to take from him. He’d probably been doing the same thing just now, too. Hell, he’d even been doing it during the house tour when he had told her what he knew about her. He could’ve pushed her further by mentioning her deceased sister, but he hadn’t wanted to bring up any ghosts like Hannah. And certainly not his wife, Carla.

Was he trying to unnerve Leigh, getting her to leave before she could decide to do so on her own?

But she was still here, stirring heavy cream, vegetable oil, honey and eggs into that bowl.

She said, “You know what’s funny about this date?”

Besides everything? “What?”

“It’s not that you’re talking to me on a phone or that you’re playing around with me by not showing yourself. It’s a cat-and-mouse game, and believe it or not, I get that.”

“So what’s so funny?”

She poured the batter into the pan. “Do you ever think that it’s easier to talk to someone you can’t see?”

He narrowed his gaze, hoping she’d go on.

She didn’t disappoint. “A few years ago there was a vendor I used for my produce. We used to talk on the phone all the time for business. But then our talks started to get...”

“Suggestive?” It was almost a whisper.

“Yeah. But only mildly.” She stopped pouring and looked at the phone, as if it truly were him. “Our talking never went anywhere, and all I knew of him was his voice. But somehow I felt like he knew a part of me that no one else did, just because nobody else had ever made me feel like he did before, merely by chatting with me.”