“Rebecca.”
“Rebecca,” Sally repeated. “Becca. Becky. Reba. You going to call her by one of those names?”
“No, I was going to call her Rebecca.”
Sally shook her head, sending her loose blonde curls bouncing against her cheeks.
“Harry, you can be so dense. Women like it when you call them by cute little nicknames. Especially on the first date.”
He looked skeptical.
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“No really, it's true,” she insisted and felt a little bad because it was absolutely a lie.
“You hate to be called Sal,” he reminded her.
“That's true, but other little nicknames are cute. Like sweetie-pie and honey-suckle.”
“You want me to go on a first date with a woman and call her honey-suckle? Have you been drinking? Is that where you were before you picked up my dry cleaning?”
“I'm just saying,” she mumbled. She averted her eyes and looked at her nails, then at her shoes, then at the window behind him in an attempt to buy some time before she finally asked, “So where are you taking Miss Rebecca, a woman so obviously uptight she has a problem with anyone shortening her name.”
"She doesn't…Never mind. I'm taking her to Johnny's."
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He thought she was jealous of him not Rebecca. Not that she was jealous of Rebecca. After all she'd been out with Harry on a number of occasions, and he could be positively dull.
Although that was usually only when he was tired or over-stressed. On those occasions, she would take him out and try to get him to relax by telling him ridiculous stories that she knew would make him laugh. Which he always did.
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Sally gasped and put her hand over her chest. “Johnny's? Our Johnny's?”
“Since when did Johnny's become our Johnny's,” Harry wanted to know.
“Since you took me there for my birthday.”
“You mean your birthday last year?”
“It was sentimental,” she protested.
“You're being ridiculous. And I think I know why.”
This had her sitting up in the chair a little straighter. She had no idea what he was going to say, but for whatever reason she was suddenly very nervous. “Why?”
“You're jealous.”
She gasped even louder. Then sputtered and coughed and snorted all at once.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “Was that supposed to be a sneeze of some kind?”
Taking a calming breath, Sally managed to say, “I am not jealous. Why would you even think that?”
“Because you've been spending all this time and effort trying to get a date and now I have one.”
“Oh.”
He thought she was jealous of him not Rebecca. Not that she was jealous of Rebecca. After all she'd been out with Harry on a number of occasions, and he could be positively dull.
Although that was usually only when he was tired or over-stressed. On those occasions, she would take him out and try to get him to relax by telling him ridiculous stories that she knew would make him laugh. Which he always did.
She wondered if Rebecca would know to do that. What if Rebecca was the type that needed to be entertained? Not that Harry couldn't entertain when the occasion called for it, but he certainly wasn't the type to do that on a regular basis. More often than not he was the one who needed to be unwound rather than being the one to do the unwinding.
She hoped he knew that about himself. She hoped he knew that finding someone who was just like him, quiet and thoughtful, a listener rather than a talker, would not be a perfect match no matter how right it might seem at the time.
“Anyway,” he finished, “there is nothing to be jealous of. You'll get a date. Eventually. Someday. Soon.”
She glared at him knowing that he was teasing her and decided it was time for a little dating revenge.
“I'm not jealous that you have a date. First dates are horrible. I don't envy you one second of it. There is the awkward beginning, the dragging middle, and the anxious end. You've been out of the game so long you forget what it's like.”
Suddenly Harry looked concerned. “The anxious end?”
“That moment when you have to decide if you both enjoyed the date equally enough to warrant you actually giving her a kiss. See if you think you had a good time, you might lean in for the kiss only to watch her pull away because she didn't have a good time.”
“That's bad.”
“That's awful. But equally bad is if she had a great time and really wants you to kiss her only you chicken out because you're not sure what she's thinking and you end up not making a move at all. Then she'll write you off on the grounds that you're a man wimp.”
“Are you kidding me with this?”
Sally could see that she was frightening him, but mercilessly she continued to press on. In a way it was for his own good. The man was a dating novice. He needed to understand all of the possibilities that awaited him.
“Then again there could be that really awkward situation where she had a great time but you didn't and she leans in to kiss you but you pull away. Naturally, this would upset her. There could be tears.”
Harry, she knew, hated tears.
“As in crying?” He actually reached for the tie that was wrapped around his neck and pulled on it.
“As in sobbing.”
“For Pete's sake, what am I supposed to do if she starts crying?”
“The only thing you can do…pity kiss her.”
“But if I end up kissing her, won't she think that I like her?”
“Maybe,” Sally answered. “Unless of course she realizes that you're pity kissing her. In which case she might slap you.”
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The phone on his desk rang and since he was still in shock from everything she'd just told him, and because it was her job, Sally stood and picked it up. Leaning on his desk, the phone pressed between her ear and shoulder, she used her best receptionist voice. “Montrose Incorporated. How can I help you?”
Sally watched as Harry gulped deeply a few times then muttered to himself that all women were nuts.
“Oh, yes, hello Rebecca. Harry has told me all about you. I think he's really looking forward to your date tonight. Did you want to talk to him?”
Harry shook his head furiously.
“Actually, he just stepped into a meeting. Can I take a message? Yes, I'll do that. Bye.”
He looked up expectantly. “She canceled?”
Sally replaced the receiver. “No such luck. She was just calling to confirm. A possible sign of desperation. Trust me Harry, don't try and pity kiss this one. She had a really deep voice. I don't think you can take her.”
“I think I'm going to be sick,” he moaned.
“Well, my work is done here,” Sally said, practically bouncing to the door. “Have fun tonight!”
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My March Release, Calculated Risk!
Calculated Risk
March 2005
Silhouette Bombshell™
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