He shrugged his shoulders. He didn't see why she put herself through this endless madness of blind dating, video dating, internet dating but he certainly wasn't in any position to stop her. Of course when the next crash came, he would have to pick up the pieces. That was a given. Not that he minded too much. That's what friends were for.
Yes, there were times he considered that maybe he should direct their relationship back to a more professional footing, but then who would bring him soup when he was sick? No, things were fine the way they were. And if the cost of having the illusion that someone truly cared about his well-being was listening to dating-gone-bad stories then it wasn't such a high price to pay.
"So you're with me?"
In spirit. For moral support. Why not? "I'm with you," he told her. "Now, can we focus on oh, I don't know, this crazy thing I like to call work? You know just for fun."
She snarled at him as predicted, but overall seemed pleased with herself. Which oddly enough was cause for concern. When Sally was dashed against the rocks things were more somber but also peaceful.
It was when the glimmer returned to her eyes, that's when the trouble started.
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A Week from Tuesday
"Okay, it's almost six. Let's go," she announced from his office doorway.
"Go where?"
"Hello, did we or did we not have a date?"
He gulped. Then he struggled to recall when he might have done that, asked his secretary out on a date. The worrisome part was it didn't sound as strange as it probably should have.
"I'm sorry?"
"You said you would go. I told you when it was. You can't back out on me now."
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She was rolling her eyes and huffing. Whenever she huffed like that the blonde curls on her head bounced a little. He used to wonder what it would be like to wrap one of those curls around his finger and pull only to release it so he could watch it spiral back up on her head. That was until he reminded himself that theirs was a working relationship and playing with his secretary's hair might be considered… inappropriate.
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"And I'm not," he said instinctively thinking that backing out on a promise or a date wasn't polite. "But I need some clarification. Where were we going exactly?"
"To Zanzabar."
Hell of a place for a first date. "Isn't that in like Africa?"
She was rolling her eyes and huffing. Whenever she huffed like that the blonde curls on her head bounced a little. He used to wonder what it would be like to wrap one of those curls around his finger and pull only to release it so he could watch it spiral back up on her head. That was until he reminded himself that theirs was a working relationship and playing with his secretary's hair might be considered… inappropriate.
"Let's go," she urged him.
"To Zanzabar. I don't think so." He wasn't the type of guy who could pick up and trot off to Africa on a moment's notice. It was the engineer in him.
"Harry, you promised."
"Sally, you said nothing about a foreign country. I'm almost positive."
"It's a bar. You're a dork. And you said you would go."
A bar. That made more sense. He checked the time on his computer, then checked the limitless pile of work on his desk that wasn't going to get done tonight and decided an after work drink couldn't hurt. Besides, he apparently promised.
"Fine. I'll drive."
"Good," she smiled. "Because I'm nervous and you know how jittery I get when I'm nervous."
Harry followed her down the short hallway that led from his office to the elevator doors somewhat puzzled by that comment. They'd had drinks after work before. They had had dinner together often. Why now was she suddenly nervous? Was it because he'd used the term date? Even though he actually didn't remember anything about … Wait.
Today was Tuesday.
"Oh no," he muttered just as the elevator doors closed on him. "Oh no. I am not participating in … what did you call it?"
"Speed dating," she mumbled even as she averted her eyes. Then facing him head on she said, "You promised me you would go with me. I said 'Are you with me?' you said, 'Yes.'"
"In spirit," he protested. "I was with you in spirit!"
She rolled her eyes. "Well, what good does spirit do me when I'm walking into a bar by myself looking pathetic and loser-like. They'll take one look at me and immediately cross me off the list. Frankly, I wouldn't blame them."
"Don't you have any friends?" he asked as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.
They were in the lobby of the office building and she'd gotten a firm grip on his arm and was steering him towards his car. He thought about shaking loose, but a quick glance at her very determined face and he knew she'd hang on tighter then a Terrier pulling at a pant leg.
"You're saying you're not my friend?"
"I'm saying I'm also your boss."
"Then you're my friend and my boss."
"Yes," he allowed. "But I'm your boss before I'm your friend." He studied her squint and realized that he wasn't making much sense so he tried to simplify things. "Don't make me go."
"This would be so good for you."
Don't ask, don't ask, don't ask… "How?" It was a sickness, he thought. He walked into this every time.
"You need to brush up on your dating skills. When was the last time you talked to a girl?"
"Last time I checked you were a girl," he pointed out.
"First, I'm a woman. Second, I don't count."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm your secretary and your friend," Sally insisted clearly frustrated with his lack of understanding.
"Yes, but are you my secretary before you're my friend?"
"Give me your keys," she demanded. "I'm driving."
"Why?" Although, he handed over the keys as they made their way out of the office lobby and through the parking lot that was still moderately filled with the cars of the over-achievers.
"Because you're apparently having a breakdown and my Mr. Right may or may not be waiting patiently for me at Zanzabar and I refuse to lose him to another woman because of you."
"Hey, I know. I could not go."
Sally stopped and turned to face him, this time slightly guilt stricken. He knew because she was biting her bottom lip. It always bothered him when she did that because it focused all of his attention on her mouth. And when he started thinking about her mouth, he started thinking about kissing and when he started thinking about that…well, he was a man. There was no need for further explanation.
"If you really don't want to go…"
Perfect. Now he felt guilty. Horny and guilty. Maybe a night out with other women wasn't the worst idea in the world. Maybe he'd been spending too much time with Sally and as a result the professional/personal line was blurring too far.
After all he was single. He was still relatively young, had all of his hair, and was known in his prime to be a catch. There was no reason to think that after meeting a bunch of different women he wouldn't find at least one of them attractive enough to ask out on a date.
"I'll do it," he announced.
"Really?"
"Yes," he stated firmly, taking back the keys. "A date wouldn't kill me."
After that statement, she burst out laughing. Laughing until tears fell from her eyes and she was forced to clutch her stomach. Laughing so hard she teetered on her high heel shoes and had to steady herself against the car.
"Yeah," Harry snorted. "I'm the one having a breakdown."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she gasped as she managed to right herself. "But you don't actually think you're going to get a date do you?"
This time Harry was truly confused. He hit the keyless remote and heard the locks pop. They each climbed in on their respective sides of the car. When she was settled, he turned and said, "You lost me. I thought the point of this exercise was to meet someone. To make a date."
"For me. For you it's about brushing up on your dating etiquette and introductory conversational skills. Harry, you've been out of the game for years. Do you honestly think you can just jump back into it?"
"Yes."
"No. There are rules. There is a protocol. There is a way of communicating that after ten five-minutes sessions you will just barely be able to grasp. For example, what would you start out with as an opener?"
Harry ran through a few lines in his head and came up with, "Hello."
This of course had Sally rolling her eyes. "My point, exactly. You can't start out with something as prosaic as 'Hello'. When you meet anyone for the first time you need to say something that is going to make you stand out – something that makes you more memorable than the last guy she just talked to."
"What do you start with when you meet someone for the first time?"
"Hiya. It's cute. It's fun. It's not boring old helloooo. Then I wow them with my smile."
She did have a wow kind of smile. Him, not so much. His face usually hurt when he smiled that large. He was better with a subtler closed mouth lip tilt. And he certainly wasn't going to say hiya to some woman he didn't know. "I think hello is more than sufficient. How many of these interviews do I need to sit through?"
"Ten," she informed him. "Actually, nine not counting me."
"Well then what do you say to a bet?"
"With me?"
He looked around the car for anyone else just to make his point.
Smiling somewhat smugly, Sally confirmed, "You want to make a bet with me regarding, I'm assuming, how many responses we each get?"
"Winner has to pick up the loser's dry cleaning for a week."
"A month," she added, obviously quite confident of victory.
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Smiling somewhat smugly, Sally confirmed, "You want to make a bet with me regarding, I'm assuming, how many responses we each get?"
"Winner has to pick up the loser's dry cleaning for a week."
"A month," she added, obviously quite confident of victory.
Harry pulled up to the establishment and parked. They each exited the car and circled it, standing side by side in front of a massive building that had palm trees decorating either side of the doorway and an overhead banner covered in red blinking lights that read "Find Your Future In Zanzabar."
"Ready?" she asked.
"Always," he answered.
Then he tried to hide an unconscious gulp because he really wasn't. Things were easy with Sally; things were safe. Inside this bar was going to be actual women who would be sizing him up as a potential mate. At the last second, he thought about suggesting they bag it, but Sally was reaching for his hand.
Their fingers automatically linked together. "Okay," she breathed. "Let's go."
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My March Release, Calculated Risk!
Calculated Risk
March 2005
Silhouette Bombshell™
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