“Can I help you, sir?”
The employee was prettier than the sum of her parts, too young for him, but…
“Cole, I didn’t expect to see you today. He’s not a customer, Dawn.” Tess shooed the young girl away.
“Have to make another trip to Builder’s Supply.” Not that he hadn’t bypassed a dozen sources closer to their construction site. “I thought maybe we could grab lunch. I have the list.”
“Okay, I guess.”
He’d expect the same degree of enthusiasm if he asked her to bait a hook with a live worm.
“Let’s go.” He stepped halfway behind the counter, took her hand and started to lead her out of the store.
“Wait, I need my purse.”
“No, you don’t. I’ll buy.”
“My comb…”
“Be serious, you look great.”
It was true. If he didn’t know her from way back as prim and proper Tess, he’d be fooled by the way her glossy reddish-brown hair fell forward on her shoulders and her lips formed a sultry pout. She looked like a good time waiting to happen.
He’d be glad when this wife hunt was over. He didn’t much like the way it made him feel to assess women as if they were beauty pageant contestants.
“I’ll be right back after lunch, Dawn,” she called as he steered her out of the store.
He drove from the mall parking lot to another equally crowded one at Builder’s Supply. Cole was impatient with traffic and in a hurry to get back to work.
“Just as I remembered.” He nodded at a little lunch wagon with a red-striped awning that sold spicy Italian sausages on hard rolls. “We can shop, eat and talk about the dates you’re arranging for me.”
To her credit, she waited patiently while he matched some trim for the twelve-unit condo he and Zack were building. After he loaded it on his truck, they walked to the lunch wagon, then carried paper sacks and disposable drink containers to the patio tables adjacent to the store’s garden center.
“Just like Trocadero’s—their parking lot, that is,” she teased.
“Wait until you taste the lemon-pepper mustard. This is more fun than fancy food with Jillian.”
His face suddenly felt hot. Why shouldn’t it? They were picnicking beside a couple of acres of asphalt paving that simmered under the intense heat of the noonday sun.
“I’ll test it.” She peeled the paper wrapping on the sourdough bun and dipped the end into a little cup of sandwich spread.
He watched, fascinated by her technique. Her tongue curled out and touched the yellowy mustard, then she savored the little dab with slow relish.
“You’re right!” She smiled impishly. “I can feel the buzz all the way to my toes.”
She bit into the sausage and roll with so much gusto he forgot about eating his sandwich until she finished and was sipping daintily at a cola.
“Aren’t you going to eat?”
“Do you want mine?” he asked.
“No, thank you. I just wondered why you’re not eating.”
He wondered himself. It’d been six hours since he grabbed a bowl of cereal for breakfast, and he was usually famished by noon.
“I’ll show you my list first,” he said.
He had to stand up to extract the folded yellow legal-pad paper from the left pocket of his jeans. Frowning skeptically, she watched him so closely he almost checked to see if he was unzipped.
“This is pretty silly,” he grumbled, sitting back on the flimsy plastic chair. He took a huge bite of sausage and roll, vigorously chewing it to mask his discomfort.
“Not at all. I have some people in mind. In fact, I have the list in my purse, but you didn’t give me time to get it.”
“Why bring your list to work? You weren’t expecting me.”
Her cheeks heated up, and he remembered how much he used to enjoy baiting her. He didn’t quite manage to hide a grin when she picked up one of the paper napkins and scrubbed at her mouth, removing the last trace of lipstick.
“Did I get all the mustard?” she asked.
“All but a tiny dab here.” He tweaked the end of her nose with his finger.
“I didn’t get any on my nose!”
“Are you absolutely sure of that?”
“Not without a mirror,” she grudgingly admitted, “and, of course, I don’t have one because I don’t have my purse. Okay, let’s see it.”
She reached toward the sheet of paper he still held in his left hand.
“Don’t laugh,” he cautioned, not that she could be intimidated.
“I lost my sense of humor when you dazzled me with your pool hall prowess,” she complained.
He handed over the list, not sure whether to be embarrassed by the characteristics written in a dark scrawl with a thick-leaded carpenter’s pencil.
“Am I reading right?” she asked. “Number four is inexperienced?”
“Maybe a bad word.” He felt six inches high.
“No, I get your meaning. You want to be able to teach her a thing or two.”
“Not exactly!” He choked.
“Chew your food.”
She didn’t want to do this, so she was making him suffer, another thing Tess did very, very well.
“Are you sure you didn’t copy this from a medieval handbook for husbands?”
“Let’s just say, if her little black book has fewer pages than mine, I’ll be happy.”
“Like that wouldn’t apply to every unmarried woman I know.”
Was it possible sweet little Tess was nurturing a grudge for all the times he’d provoked her in high school? She was certainly stomping on his list with hobnail boots. He wasn’t going to give her any more ammo by revealing his grandfather’s horror of tainted women.
“You’re not making this easy for me,” he mumbled.
“Sorry. We both want this to be over. I like requirement number nine—family oriented. I adore mine, especially Erika and Erin.”
“Your nieces, right?”
“Yeah.” When she smiled without the snide expression, her face lit up. “Here’s a practical one. You like to be outdoors, so naturally you would enjoy a woman who shares your interest.”
“I’m glad you approve,” he said dryly, wrapping the uneaten portion of his bun so she wouldn’t notice. Anyone could lose his appetite once in a while.
“Several of the names on my list qualify so far,” she said.
“Who?”
“Let me compare your list with mine and decide who’s perfect for you. Then I’ll see if any of my friends are interested in meeting you.”
“I don’t want a perfect woman. Someone like you would be fine.”
“Thanks a lot…I think.”
Whether from the heat of the day or internal