A Mother's Wish: Wanted: Perfect Partner / Father's Day. Debbie Macomber

laughed. “I guess I am, too.”

      The valet brought her Ford Escort to the front of the restaurant and held open her door.

      “Thank you for a lovely dinner,” she said, suddenly feeling shy and awkward.

      “The pleasure was all mine.”

      Neither of them made an effort to move. The valet checked his watch and Meg glanced at him guiltily. Steve ignored him and eventually so did Meg.

      “I guess this is goodbye,” she said, wishing now that she hadn’t made such a big issue about not being her daughter’s pawn.

      “Looks that way.”

      She lowered her eyes, fighting the enticement she read in his. “Thanks again.”

      Steve traced his finger along her jaw. His work-calloused fingertip felt warm against her skin. If they hadn’t been standing under the lights of a fancy French restaurant with a valet looking on, Meg wondered if he would’ve kissed her. She wanted to think he might have.

      On the drive home, she dismissed the idea as fanciful. It had been a long time since she’d been wined and dined, that was all. And an even longer time since she’d been kissed …

      Sensation after sensation traveled across her face where he’d touched her. Smile after smile flirted with her mouth at the memory of his lips so close to hers. She wouldn’t forget the date or the man anytime soon. That was for sure.

      “Well, how’d it go?” Nancy demanded. His teenage sister met Steve at the door. Her eyes were wide with curiosity as she followed him inside.

      Steve looked at his watch and frowned. “What are you still doing up?”

      Nancy’s face fell. “You asked me to wait for you, so we could talk.”

      Steve slid his fingers through his hair. “I did, didn’t I?” “You’re much later than you thought you’d be.” He didn’t respond, unwilling to let his sister know how much he’d enjoyed himself. “I’m furious with you for what you did,” he said, forcing his voice to sound gruff with irritation.

      “I don’t blame you,” she agreed readily enough.

      “Haven’t you got an exam to study for or something?” he asked, although he knew very well she didn’t. Nancy attended the nearby University of Washington. She was staying with Steve for the summer, since their parents were now living in Montana.

      “You liked her, didn’t you?”

      Nancy sounded much too smug to suit Steve.

      “And no, I don’t have any exams to study for, and you know it. They ended two weeks ago.” Since then, she’d taken a summer job at the university library.

      “So you’ve decided to stay in Seattle and make my life miserable.”

      “No, I’ve decided to stay in Seattle and see you married. Come on, Steve, you’re thirty-eight! That’s getting up there.” She flopped down on the sofa and sat with her legs underneath her, as if she planned to plant herself right there until he announced his engagement.

      The problem, Steve decided, was that Nancy was the product of parents who’d never expected a second child and had spoiled her senseless. He was partially to blame, as well, but he’d never thought she’d pull something like this.

      “You work too hard,” she said. “Loosen up and enjoy life a little.”

      “You’re going to write Meg Remington a formal letter of apology.” He refused to back down on this.

      “Okay, I’ll write her.” All at once she was on her feet. “When are you seeing her again?”

      “I’m not.”

      Nancy fell back onto the sofa. “Why not?”

      Darned if Steve could give her an answer. He and Meg had made that decision early on in their conversation, and for the life of him he couldn’t remember why.

      “Because,” he growled. “Now leave me alone.”

      Nancy threw back her head and laughed. “You like her. You really, really like her.”

      Meg sat in the back storeroom and rubbed her aching feet. The new shoes pinched her toes, but this was what she got for buying them half a size too small. They were on sale and she loved them, although the store had been out of size eights. Even knowing her feet would pay the penalty later, Meg had chosen to wear them today.

      Laura stuck her head through the door and smiled when she saw her. “A beautiful bouquet of flowers just arrived for you,” she said.

      “For me?”

      “That’s what the envelope said.”

      “Who from?”

      “I didn’t read the card, if that’s what you’re asking, but Lindsey’s here and she grabbed it and let out a holler. My guess is the flowers are from Steve.”

      “Steve.” Pain or no pain, Meg was on her feet. She hobbled to the front of the store and found her fifteen-year-old daughter grinning triumphantly.

      “Steve Conlan sent flowers,” she crowed.

      “So I see.” Meg’s fingers shook as she removed the card from the small envelope.

      “He said, and I quote, ‘You’re one special woman, Meg Remington. Love, Steve.’”

      The bouquet was huge, with at least ten different varieties of flowers all arranged in a white wicker basket. It must have cost him easily a hundred dollars.

      “We agreed,” she whispered.

      “Agreed to what?” Lindsey prodded.

      “That we weren’t going to see each other again.”

      “Obviously he changed his mind,” Lindsey said, as excited as if she’d just discovered a twenty-dollar bill in the bottom of her purse.

      Unwilling to trust her daughter’s assessment of the situation, Meg stared at her best friend.

      “Don’t look at me,” Laura said.

      “I’m sure you’re wrong,” Meg said to Lindsey, her heart still beating a little too fast.

      “Why else would he send flowers?” Lindsey asked calmly.

      “He wanted to say he was glad we met, that’s all. I don’t think we should make something out of this,” she said. “It’s just … a courtesy.”

      “Call him,” Lindsey pleaded.

      “I most certainly will not!”

      “But, Mom, don’t you see? Steve’s saying he likes you, but he doesn’t want to pressure you into anything unless you like him, too.”

      “He is?” Whatever confidence she’d felt a moment earlier vanished like ice cream at a Fourth of July picnic.

      “The next move is yours.”

      “Laura?”

      “I wouldn’t know,” her fickle friend said. “I’ve been married to the same man for twenty-six years. All this intrigue is beyond me.”

      “I agree with your daughter,” a shy voice said from the other side of the counter. “You should call him.”

      It was Meg’s customer, Judith Wilson. Meg wasn’t sure she should listen to the older woman who faithfully purchased romance novels twice a month. Judith was a real romantic and would undoubtedly read more into the gesture than Steve had intended.

      “See?” Lindsey said excitedly. “The ball’s in your court. Steve made his move and now he’s waiting for yours.”

      Meg didn’t know what to do.

      “It’s been three days,”