hard to tell the two apart. Deal?”
Kim reached for her mug, fingered the textured porcelain and then took a sip. She’d only have to look. Nothing more unless it felt right. “Okay. I’ll check them out.”
“Good.” Marie tapped a few letters on the keyboard. “Here.”
Kim got up stiffly; she must have been tensing her body ridiculously tight. Not many people had heard the story of Kim and Tony, at least not from her. Since college she’d told only Kent, trying to make him understand why she hated the way he and his friends talked about and treated women, but he’d just insisted she didn’t understand.
Yeah, no kidding.
“This is Troy.”
Kim found herself looking into a pair of the deepest, darkest eyes she’d ever seen, jumping off the screen under a strong forehead and tousled dark curls. Handsome. Very. Wearing a Green Day T-shirt over broad, developed shoulders.
Immediate panic kicked in. She didn’t want to go out with him. “He’s nice looking. Sexy.”
“He was adorable when we met. Gentle and very sweet. Smart, too. Works in IT, so you have computers in common. He owns a house in Whitefish Bay not far from the lake and lives there with his dog, Dylan. Solid career, and he’s writing a book with Candy’s fiancé, Justin, so they can vouch for him, too. I think he’s worth giving a try.”
Kim tilted her head noncommittally, sick with nerves. “Take your time, Kim. This is not a speed test. You can stare at him to your heart’s content in the privacy of your own home or ignore him completely. It’s up to you. You have all the power in this situation.” Marie tapped a few more keys and Troy’s midnight brooding eyes disappeared. Kim felt immediate relief. “Here’s the other man I thought might interest you. His name is Dale.”
“Dale.” She stared at the ordinary face filling the screen, and the pang of relief turned into a buzz of excitement. Light brown hair in a basic short cut, brown eyes behind chic frameless glasses that made him look professor-smart. He wore a dark suit that sat well on his shoulders—all she could see of him. His expression was serious, but not grim. His eyes looked kind, and his lips quirked as if he was about to smile.
“He works for Johnson Controls as a consultant. Does a lot of traveling, all over the world. He’s charming, educated, well-read, into yoga, skiing, sailing. Very interesting to talk to. I liked him.”
“Skiing? Sailing?” She snorted. “Not really my speed.”
“Honey, you’re twenty-nine. You can’t possibly have figured out everything about how you fit into the world. Maybe when you’re ninety, but even then I’d have my doubts.”
Marie had a point. Kim gazed into the warm brown eyes on the monitor. Something about this guy …
“Think about it. I can set up dates with both of them if you want, and if they want.”
Kim imagined herself sitting across the table from Troy even for an hour. She wasn’t sure she could do it. That handsome face would completely disconcert her. She’d babble, stutter and spill drinks.
“Kim.” Marie’s hand was comforting on her arm. “I know this is pushing you out of your comfort zone. Putting yourself out there is very hard. For you and for every single person that comes through that door, and if it’s not, there’s something wrong. Troy and Dale may not be the guys you pictured when you thought about signing up, but you don’t have to marry either one of them. You don’t even have to do more than look, exchange an email or have a quick cup of coffee.”
“True.” She wished that made her feel safer.
“It’s a place to start. When you left your full-time job at Soka Associates five years ago to start Charlotte’s Web Design, you took an enormous leap of faith, much bigger than going on an experimental date.” She gave Kim’s arm a squeeze. “This will be easy in comparison.”
Kim nodded, experiencing a jumble of mixed reactions: fear, excitement, pride and an overriding desire to run home and hide in bed. But if she always gave in to fear she’d still be miserable at Soka. Still be dating Sam. Still the same old pimply, dowdy Kim.
Marie tapped a few more keys; Dale’s face disappeared from the monitor but lingered in Kim’s brain for a few pleasant seconds before Troy’s dark eyes and lean features supplanted his.
Kim had come a long way. What hadn’t killed her had made her stronger, and there was no reason she couldn’t continue to change and grow, as Marie said, even if, God forbid, Charlotte’s Web failed. She wanted a relationship, and she’d lose nothing by meeting with these two. Call it practice, if that made the hours easier to cope with. And if she babbled and stuttered and spilled, so be it. No animals or small children would be harmed in the having of these dates.
“I’ll do it.” She spoke impulsively, started to take the words back, and found she couldn’t, because she didn’t want to take anything back; from now on she wanted to take everything forward.
“Both of them?”
Kim nodded firmly, her face flushed. “Both of them. I’m ready.”
2
“HEY, NATHAN.”
“Mmph?” Nathan opened one eye. Kim. What was she doing in his bedroom? Undoubtedly not what he wanted her to be doing in his bedroom.
Wait. He wasn’t in bed. He was on the couch in her—their—living room. What the—
“Did you remember to get wine on your way home?” Hands on her hips, lips pursed. “For my book club meeting tonight?”
Wine? Oh, no. He must have fallen asleep. She’d asked him this morning to get some; his fog-brain did remember that much. “I don’t think so.”
Kim’s face set. “No problem. I’ll get it.”
“No. No.” He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and shook his head, trying to clear it. Wine. She’d wanted him to get some on his way home from … where? “I’ll get it. I said I would. Wait, what time is it?”
She looked at her watch. “Almost four-thirty.”
His memory came back. He’d gone out after his bartending job at the Hi Hat Lounge last night, stayed out until four, gotten to work at Alterra Coffee at six, then stumbled home and slept through his four o’clock appointment with his faculty advisor, during which he was to have reported on progress he hadn’t made. He was supposed to buy Kim’s wine on the way back.
Nathan bounced off the couch, got an instant brownout and had to bend over until his vision cleared.
He was never, ever drinking tequila again.
“How long have you been asleep? Didn’t you have an appointment with Dr. Stephanopolous?”
“Um. Maybe.”
“Oh, no.” She used that tone he hated most. That what-am-I-going-to-do-with-you tone that meant all she saw was her little brother’s loser friend. He couldn’t tell her about the panic that gripped him when he tried to work, the compulsion to jump up and run, the inability to focus, the instinct that putting more work into what he’d planned was shoving bad after worse.
Sometimes he thought he was going nuts.
“I’ll call and straighten it out. Then I’ll get the wine.” He staggered forward into the pizza he’d bought after work and half finished before nodding off. Squish. A tepid slice stuck to the bottom of his bare foot. When he shook free, the sauce-slathered crust dropped back to the plate but the mozzarella clung. He hopped a few times, lost his balance and fell back on the couch, his cheesy foot sticking into the air.
Why always in front of this woman? If she laughed, he’d join her.
She didn’t laugh. She sighed.
He