was true.
What few took the time to see was Jamie’s warm heart and generous spirit. He’d never known a more giving woman. What she’d said about being shy was true, even though he’d denied it. Yet she had spunk and she had spirit. Enough to stand up to him, which was no easy thing.
Pushing against the edge of his desk, Rich rolled back his chair and stood up. He headed down the hallway with determination.
“Bill,” he said, striding purposefully into his friend’s office. “Got a minute?”
“What’s up?”
Rich had never played the role of matchmaker before, and he wasn’t sure where to start. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
“Oh.” Bill didn’t look too enthusiastic.
“A friend of mine.”
“Widowed or divorced?”
“Single.”
Bill’s brows arched toward his receding hairline. “You mean a leftover girl.”
Rich wasn’t comfortable thinking of Jamie as leftover, but this wasn’t the time to argue. “We went to high school together.”
“High school? Exactly how old is she?”
“Thirty-one.” Her birthday wasn’t until April. Their birthdays were both in April, and Jamie loved to point out that she was a whole week older.
“She’s never been married?” Bill asked, his voice rising suspiciously. “What’s the matter with her?”
“Nothing. She’s one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet.”
Bill reached for his In basket and took out a file, flipping it open. “I can’t tell you how many times friends—” he paused and glanced up “—good friends, have set me up. They always claim the girl’s one of the nicest people I’ll ever meet. No thanks, Rich.”
“No thanks? You haven’t heard anything about her.”
“I’ve heard enough.”
“What’s the matter with you?” It was hard to keep the irritation out of his voice. Bill was thirty-five and twenty pounds overweight, not to mention the receding hairline. Frankly, Rich didn’t think his friend had any right to be so damn choosy.
“Nothing’s wrong with me.”
“I thought you wanted to remarry.”
“I do. Someday, when I find the right woman.”
“You might well be passing her over this minute,” Rich said. “I’m not going to lie to you—she’s no Miss America, but she’s not ugly, if that’s what concerns you.”
“Why don’t you ask her out yourself, then?”
The question took Rich by surprise. “Well, because … because it would be like dating one of my sisters.”
Bill released an impatient sigh. “Why haven’t you said anything about her before?”
“She was involved with someone else.”
Bill shook his head emphatically. “Forget it. You’re a good friend and all that, but I’ve been set up too many times in the past few years. Frankly, your friend’s everything I want to avoid in a woman. She’s over thirty and never been married. It doesn’t help that she’s just out of a relationship, either. I’m sorry, Rich, I really am, but I’m not interested.”
Rich found Bill’s attitude downright insulting. Before he could stop himself, before he could analyze his actions, he reached for his wallet.
“What are you doing?” Bill wanted to know when Rich pulled out two tickets.
“These are for the Seahawks play-off game against Green Bay. The scalpers are getting three hundred bucks each for these. If you agree to call Jamie for a date, they’re yours.” His older brother would have his hide for this, but Rich would deal with Jason later.
Bill’s eyes rounded incredulously. “You mean you’re willing to give me two tickets to the Seahawks play-off game if I go out with your friend?”
“Yup.”
Even then Bill hesitated. “One date?”
“One date.” But once his fellow engineer got to know Jamie, he’d realize how special she was. In a few weeks, Bill would be looking for ways to repay him for this. Rich would keep that thought in mind when he told Jason he’d given away their play-off tickets.
“Someplace nice, too. No pizza in a bowling alley, understand?”
Bill’s hand closed over the tickets. “Dinner at the Space Needle followed by an evening at the ballet.”
“Good. Just don’t ever let Jamie know about this.”
Bill laughed. “Do I look that stupid?”
Rich didn’t reply, but in his opinion, any man who’d turn down the opportunity to meet Jamie Warren wasn’t exactly a candidate for Mensa.
“Here’s her phone number,” he said, writing it on a slip of paper. “I’ll give her a call, clear the way, but the rest is up to you.”
“No problem,” Bill said, pocketing the tickets.
Rich felt downright noble as he returned to his own office. Jamie was one hell of a woman and it was about time someone figured that out. Bill Hastings wasn’t nearly good enough for her, but he was an amiable guy. Without too much trouble Rich could picture Bill and Jamie a few years down the road, raising two or three kids.
He felt good about that, better than he’d felt about anything in quite a while.
That evening, Rich went to Jason’s apartment on his way home and was relieved to find his brother was out. That meant he could delay telling him what had become of the play-off tickets. It was definitely something he had to do in person, he told himself.
After killing an hour or two at his own apartment, Rich decided to drive over to Jamie’s. He rang her bell and waited. It hadn’t occurred to him that she might not be home. He was ready to turn away when he heard activity on the other side.
“Who is it?” she called.
“The big bad wolf.”
The sound of her laugh was followed by the click of the lock. She opened the door and Rich saw that he must have gotten her out of the tub. She’d hastily donned a white terrycloth robe that clung to her damp skin.
“Rich,” she said, surprise elevating her voice, “what are you doing here?” As she spoke, she finished knotting the belt around her waist.
The robe fell open below that, revealing a glimpse of thigh. Rich was having trouble taking his eyes off it and didn’t answer right away. His gaze followed a natural progression downward, and he was momentarily astounded to see what long shapely legs she had. Funny, he’d never noticed them before. He grinned, thinking Bill was in for a very pleasant shock.
“Go ahead and finish your bath,” he said casually, walking into her kitchen. “I’ll make myself at home while I wait.”
“I’m almost done.”
“Take your time,” he called out. He stuck his head inside the refrigerator and helped himself to an apple. He’d just taken his last bite when Jamie returned. As best he could tell, she’d run a brush through her hair and put on slippers. But that was it. The robe rode over her slender hips like a second skin.
“Do you have any plans tonight?” Generally he went out on Fridays, but there wasn’t anything he particularly felt like doing that evening.
“Got anything in mind?”
“A movie. I’ll even let you choose.”
“I