“I’ll tell him.” Monica returned the stare with what felt like an adequate amount of gravitas but had a hard time fighting the urge to smile. “But can I wait until after?”
Mel blinked. “After? After what? The date?”
Monica waggled her eyebrows but held her sister’s gaze as she gave her head a slow shake. “No…after.” Without breaking eye contact, she woke her phone from its electronic slumber and tapped the button to open the camera app. She held the phone out but kept her focus locked on her sister even after Melody’s gaze dropped to the screen and she gasped.
“Holy cra...crêpes,” she corrected at the last second.
“Crêpes?”
“Last week, I heard Emma tell some poor kid at tumbling her somersaults looked like crap, so I have to watch my language.” Mel darted a glance at the kitchen door, then lunged for the phone. Cradling the cell in both hands, she openly gaped at the picture of Colm. “This is him? For real?”
“For real.” Sinking into the couch cushions, Monica let loose with a gusty sigh. “You see why I want to delay the inevitable a bit?”
Mel stared at the phone for a moment longer. Tapping the button to close the app, she handed the cell over. “What makes you think the inevitable is bad? Most guys would be happy to find out the woman he’s interested in isn’t saddled with a kid.”
Wrinkling her nose, Monica gave the possibility a moment’s consideration. “I don’t think so,” she said slowly. “For some reason, I get the feeling the kid thing is part of the appeal for him.”
“Like he has a mommy fetish?”
Monica laughed, tickled by the leaps her sister’s mind made. “Maybe he’s looking for a new mommy for Aiden.”
Melody’s eyes widened as she barked a laugh. “You?”
Her sister’s ready dismissal of her potential stung a little, but Monica couldn’t truly disagree with the assessment. “No, not me. Definitely not me.”
Motherhood had never been a part of her life plan. Marriage was a possibility, but she always saw herself more as a half of a power couple than a cozy nester couple like her sister and Jeremy. Either way, their lifestyles were a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turnaround from the chaos they grew up in.
Jeremy was a dentist with a thriving practice and a well-respected reputation. His success allowed Mel the freedom to be a full-time mommy and artist when she felt like it. The arrangement suited them both to perfection. But Monica always saw herself as a mover and a shaker. While she might be moved to dally a bit with a smoking-hot single-dad, she wasn’t the type to take on personal commitments. Sadly, she had the distinct impression Colm was the commitment sort. But she might be wrong. And what better way to get a feel for someone’s preferences than a friendly little dinner date?
“You’re going to do it, aren’t you?”
She jerked her head up to find Melody giving her the slitty-eyed stare. “What?”
“You’re going to go out with him and you’re going to let the poor man go on believing my baby is yours.”
The sheer dramatics had Monica rolling her eyes. “How have you never added theater to your artsy-fartsy repertoire?”
“Stage fright,” Mel answered without missing a beat.
“Listen, I’m only going to have dinner with him. How often does a girl like me have a shot at a hunk like that?”
“You always sell yourself short,” Mel interjected. “Some guys like the put-together-so-tight-I-squeak thing you have going on.”
“You flatter me so,” Monica replied with a smirk. “I promise I’ll do my best to avoid the topic of kids if at all possible. I just want to see if…”
She trailed off, making a slow circle with her hand and inviting Melody to fill in the blank however she saw fit. As always, her big sis didn’t let her down. “If he can make you squeak?”
“Exactly.”
Melody ran her hand over her bed-rumpled hair and fell into the oversized armchair with a huff. “Well, I’d be a first-class hypocrite to begrudge you hot sex. But I’m fairly sure I’m not supposed to let you use my kid to score. There has to be a section in the mommy handbook about not using your kid as a beard.”
Grinning, Monica caressed the smooth screen of her sleeping phone with the pad of her thumb. “She won’t be helping me score. She’ll be my convenient excuse for why this can’t go on after I’m done lapping him up like a saucer of milk.”
“Saucer of milk?”
“He has the most gorgeous skin.”
“Either way, I’m not sure I should let you use Emma as an excuse, either. There has to be at least a subsection.”
“I won’t be using her, per se,” Monica argued. “She’ll be a teensy part. Barely any…I’m busy. He’s busy. We both have jobs and…other responsibilities. Better we keep things casual, uncomplicated. Right?”
“God, you’re a horrible tramp, and I’m so jealous.” With the speed and agility Monica always forgot Mellow Mel possessed, her sister launched herself from the chair and landed on the couch beside her, bouncing them both. “Call him. I want to hear what he sounds like.”
Monica smirked, but a flush of pleasure warmed her cheeks as the backlit screen sprung to life. “Okay, but you have to swear you won’t say anything. Let me have my way with him this once, and I promise I will never let your daughter pimp me out again.”
“Oh, hush. Don’t say such things about my baby.” She shuddered delicately. “Dial.”
Monica opened her contacts list and swiped his number. As they waited for the call to go through, she turned to her sister. “I’m buying Em a fur coat and a pimp hat for her Halloween costume.”
“Over my dead body.”
“She’ll love the hat. A great big feather and—” Oh crêpes indeed, she thought as a low, melodious baritone cut her off at the knees.
“Hello?” Colm repeated.
“Oh, uh, hi,” she managed at last.
“Please tell me this is Monica.”
“Yeah. Hi.” Beside her, Melody vibrated with barely contained mirth. Monica swatted her sister, scooted away on the sofa, and tried to recover her cool. “Yes, this is Monica.”
Melody was plastered right up against her side. Luckily, Colm was quick on the uptake.
“So, this is a yes,” he said briskly. “I’m taking this as a yes, because you aren’t texting.”
“It’s a yes.”
Mel grabbed her arm and gave a jiggle-squeeze of excitement. When Monica tried to reclaim the rapidly numbing limb, her sister whispered, “He even sounds hot.”
Thankfully, there was a clatter and commotion on the other end of the line. After a bit of fumbling, Colm asked, “I’m sorry, did you say something?”
“No, nothing.” She shot Mel a warning glance. “Uh, and yes.”
“Great.”
Funny how a guy could convey a kazillion things in one little word. In her head she heard relief, anticipation, a touch of cockiness, and what she hoped was lust all wrapped up in a single syllable.
“So,