Finding Mr. Right. Gwynne Forster

sure of Barbara’s title or of her precise responsibilities, but she was certain that Barbara knew everything about everybody who worked for LAC, as the employees called the center.

      “Barbara, are all of these lawyers full-time employees?”

      “Good heavens, no. Fuller, Parker and Jenkins are full-time. All the others are either salaried part-time employees or volunteers.”

      She knew she was taking a chance, since Barbara could have been involved with someone at the center, but she asked any way. “What about Cowan? He struck me as being a lawyer.”

      “He is, and he makes certain that everybody knows it.”

      “Hmm. No love lost there.”

      “At first glance,” Barbara went on, “it seems like the pickings here are good. But scratch the surface, and you’ll find that this place is about as devoid of real men as a baseball stadium in January.”

      Barbara couldn’t have been more correct or more discouraging. No telling what was behind that. She forced a smile. “What a pity. They’re such a good looking bunch, too.”

      “Yeah, but you can’t judge a man by his appearance.”

      “Nor a woman.” Realizing that her last comment might have been misinterpreted, Tyra tried to make up for it. “I know you’re very busy, but perhaps we could have lunch.”

      “Sure,” said Barbara.

      “See you later.” Tyra went back to her office, wondering about her decision. She could be a counselor somewhere else, but the real appeal of the job was its available bachelors. So far, the two clients she was assigned—a teenage runaway and a woman who wasn’t sure she wanted to leave her abusive husband—were depressing cases to work on. She welcomed Byron’s call that evening with enthusiasm.

      With Andy in bed and his Aunt Jonie sitting outside on the deck as she did most summer evenings, Byron had a sudden sense of loneliness. He knew it was natural to feel that way after Lois’s death, but her loss was buried deep inside of him in a place that no once could touch. Without thinking, he picked up his cell phone and dialed Tyra’s number.

      “Hi. This is Byron. Did I call too late?”

      “No. It’s only nine. How are you?”

      The word fine came to mind, but he didn’t feel fine. He’d spent the day smiling and pretending. “I’m not sure how I am, Tyra. I think I’d feel better if you were here.” He knew he’d shocked her, but it was no use pretending.

      “You’ve surprised me, Byron. If something’s wrong, I’m sorry. I’d fix it if I could.”

      “I’m not certain you can’t. Ever since I met you, I’ve been a little off kilter.” And he had. Things that usually satisfied him just didn’t anymore.

      “Are you unhappy?” she asked. He heard in her voice the softness and compassion that he’d missed for four long years.

      “I wouldn’t go that far, but I’m obviously not myself, either. And I shouldn’t be dumping this on you.”

      “That’s what friends are for. Look, come by and let’s go some place and get an ice cream cone.”

      “That’s a wonderful idea. In fact, I think it’s just what I need. Can you make it in twenty minutes?”

      “Twenty minutes it is.” She brushed her teeth, dabbed a bit of perfume behind her ears and went in the family room where she knew Maggie was watching television. “I’m going out for a few minutes.”

      “If it’s who I hope it is, make good use of the time,” Maggie said as she threw a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

      “No comment.”

      Tyra grabbed her pocketbook from the back of the dining room chair, took her hair out of a ponytail and closed the front door behind her. As the Cadillac drove up, she started down the walk. Byron got out of the car and met her.

      “Hi.” He slipped an arm around her waist, bent over and kissed her cheek. “I’m not moody, but—”

      “Oh, you don’t have to explain,” she said, taking his hand. “We all need a lift some time. You’d do the same for me.”

      He opened the passenger’s door for her and helped her in. “You’re right. I would, and I won’t forget it.”

      Without thinking Tyra reached over and patted his hand. “Were you really feeling depressed?”

      “Yeah. If things aren’t going right, I usually fix them. Right now, I’m feeling better.”

      She thought it best not to comment, but still, the idea that she could make a man like Byron Whitley forget about whatever was bothering him was good for her self-confidence. She wanted to hug him.

      She knew she’d better be on her guard with this man. She slid down in the comfortable leather seat. What the hell, she said to herself. I’m thirty-one, and it’s time I did some living.

      She’d thought he would take them to a place nearby, but since she lived on the outskirts, he began driving in a different direction

      “I’m surprised you didn’t ask where we were headed.”

      “I knew you were taking us to a place that sold ice cream. What else did I need to know?”

      He parked and turned to her. “You’re growing on me. So you’d better be careful.”

      “Thank you for warning me.”

      She wasn’t prepared for the cozy, romantic atmosphere inside the massive ice-cream cone-shaped shop. Under hanging lanterns, white pillar-candles were nestled in arrangements of yellow, red and blue nasturtiums atop wrought-iron marble-top tables. Soft music filled the air. With his hand pressed against her back, Byron guided her to a table with a view of the moonlit sky.

      They seated themselves, and he picked up a menu. “Whatever flavor you can imagine is here. What would you like?”

      “As much as I love ice cream, I feel as if I can’t eat anything. I mean, Byron, it’s so…perfect.”

      “I’m glad you’re pleased, but I’ll be disappointed if you don’t have some.”

      “I know, but not to worry. The chance of my leaving here and not tasting any ice cream is close to nil. I’ll bet they don’t have pomegranate ice cream.”

      A grin flashed across his face. “Let’s see. Last time I was here, it was on the menu, and it was delicious.”

      “I’ll have a double cone.”

      “Good. That’s what I’ll start with.” He called the waitress. “Two double scoops in a cone of pomegranate, please. I’ll get an apricot cone for dessert.”

      If she wasn’t careful, she’d fall for him. The waitress brought their ice cream and some napkins. Tyra ran her tongue over the ice cream, closed her eyes and savored the rich creamy dessert.

      “This is fan—” She stopped in the middle of the word. When she opened her eyes, she was staring into pools of naked desire. She put the cone on the plate that the waitress had placed in front of her.

      “Byron—”

      “It’s all right. You caught me off guard. Aren’t you going to finish your ice cream?”

      She nodded, and as soon as the ice cream touched her lips, her discomfort disappeared. She reached across the table and stroked the back of his hand. He turned his hand over and caressed hers. It was too much.

      “Byron, tell me why you called me tonight.”

      “I’ve always been a loner, Tyra. I have always been that way. I enjoy being with people who are interesting to me in some way. But I liked the peace and quiet of being alone. I always did my best thinking walking in the park