Turn Up the Heat. Isabel Sharpe

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      Out into the frigid air of January, the harshest month of winter, though March won for the most wearing, Candy crossed an icy patch in the parking lot with the short, choppy steps people in winter states adopted to keep forward momentum to a minimum. Her breath sent mist streaming into the crisp, dry air, which swallowed the moisture gratefully. She was nervous, not entirely in a good way.

      She couldn’t let go of the feeling that she was cheating on Chuck, which was ridiculous because he’d left her to pursue someone else, someone he claimed matched him better, which had been the most bewildering part of the breakup. Candy didn’t know any other couple that operated in such perfect unison. She and Chuck were so alike, and their minds ran in such complementary directions. She’d felt completely understood and accepted for the first time in her life.

      Not that they never fought or disagreed—if couples never fought they were either suppressing emotions or had nothing to say to each other in the first place—but in everything that mattered, the big things, the values, what they wanted and expected from a relationship, on all those things they matched better than she ever could have imagined.

      On top of that solid foundation, they shared a sense of humor, taste in movies, food and books, and their sex life was good, too. In short, Chuck never stopped being interesting, sexy and exciting to her; she lit up like a lightbulb every time she saw his face, yes, even five years later. How could she hope to find that again? How could he have let it go?

      Most people recommended a year for recovery. Hers had been hell, but she was nearly through it. Maybe taking this first step would be the best way to banish her fear that she wasn’t ready, and her deeper fear that she’d never be able to remove Chuck entirely from her heart. When you loved someone that completely, gave yourself over, body and soul …

      Yes. But. Chuck was with Kate now, living in her house in Racine, as much as that still managed to hurt, and Candy refused to stay stuck mooning over what wasn’t possible.

      Plus, Marie’s point about Valentine’s Day was valid. Candy certainly didn’t want to spend the day alone, reliving the hell of the previous year. And being part of a lame-duck collection of single women that night didn’t appeal either. She wanted a date. A fun one, if not a really special one.

      So.

      She entered the warm building gratefully, stomped snow off her boots onto the mat and turned down the hall to Marie’s office. For the first three years Marie had operated Milwaukeedates.com out of her home, but she’d felt strongly that an office would up her professional cachet, so when the business started doing well she’d leased space downtown on Water Street, a gamble that had paid off.

      Candy unwrapped the floral wool scarf from her neck, took off her black mittens—maybe she was old for mittens, but nothing kept her fingers warmer—and smiled at Marie’s receptionist. “Hi, Jane.”

      “Hey, there.” Jane grinned, headset perched on top of her red curls, startling blue eyes blinking behind narrow black-framed glasses. “Marie’s in her office, go on in. If you want tea or coffee help yourself.”

      “Thanks.” She crossed to the counter where Marie had set up a generous selection of teas and coffees, regular, decaf and herbal, and poured steaming water over a fragrant orange-spice tea bag.

      Behind her, the ring of the phone, then Jane’s voice: “Milwaukeedates.com, how may I help you?”

      A current client? A prospective client? Maybe even the guy Candy would end up with. Would she be out with him on Valentine’s Day?

      Stomach churning with a mixture of excitement and dread, she strode to Marie’s office, knocked and pushed the already ajar door open. The space managed to be professional and cozy, much like Marie herself. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, occasional books turned face-out, deliberately empty spaces on the shelves filled with plants, pottery or sculpture. Oversize chairs in warm brown tones, a burgundy-shaded Oriental rug.

      Behind her desk, on the phone and beckoning Candy in, Marie stood in a fabulous teal suit whose cut elegantly camouflaged her extra pounds and deemphasized her short stature. She’d recently started coloring her hair a subtle auburn, which flattered her still-smooth skin and complemented her hazel eyes, today embellished by soft black liner and subtle shadowing. Marie was a lovely, warm person with a core of strength and determination which had gotten her through her stinking husband’s betrayal and earned her every bit of her subsequent success.

      Candy wanted to be her when she grew up.

      “I completely understand, yes. And how did he react when you told him how you felt?” She smiled apologetically at Candy and gestured to the chair in front of her desk. “I see. And how did that make you feel?”

      Candy sank into the cushy chair and arranged a couple of the bright pillows behind her back. The office was deliciously warm and smelled of lavender and orange spice, the perfect antidote to the frozen gray outside. Candy dipped her tea bag a few times and tried vainly to relax. Since her breakup with Chuck, in an attempt to mitigate the crushing grief, she’d thrown herself into work, dragged herself out of the house as often as possible, gone dancing, taken a cruise with her best friend, Abigail, traveled down to Chicago several times … and somehow she hadn’t managed to slow down again. Not like when she was dating Chuck and was blissfully content with evenings at home watching TV, weekends spent sleeping late, staying in bed later and puttering around the house.

      She kept the pleasant look on her face and sipped hot, comforting tea, telling herself the past was past and she was here in hopes of starting her future—romantically speaking.

      “Right. I understand. Well, I’m sorry it didn’t work out, but you have the date next week to look forward to …” Marie bent to hit buttons on her computer and scanned the screen. “With Ted. Yes. Okay, talk to you later. Take care. Bye.”

      She punched off her phone. “That woman has gone out with and found something horribly wrong with practically every guy on our site. During our interview I thought she seemed a little wound-up, but I didn’t see this coming. She needs about a year’s worth of therapy, not a relationship.”

      “Oof. Sorry.” Maybe Candy needed that, too. Or maybe she just needed another excuse to delay this moment.

      “Anyway, this isn’t about her.” Marie came out from behind her desk and perched on the edge, beaming. “This is your time. We are going to find you someone absolutely fabulous. How did you do on the sheets I had you fill out?”

      “Dismally.”

      “Hmm.” She held out her hand. “Let me see.”

      Candy pulled the papers from her briefcase. “I couldn’t decide between answers. I think I checked all the options practically every single time. Do I like staying home or going out? Yes. Do I like old movies or contemporary? Yes. Do I like restaurants, bars, clubs, movies, museums or lectures for a favorite night out? Yes. What is more important, career or family? Both. And on and on. I’m hopeless.”

      “Hopeless?” Marie took the papers. “Let’s call you well-rounded. Adventurous, open-minded, cosmopolitan.”

      Candy conceded the point. “Yes, better term than hopeless. But when I got to the introductory paragraph I splintered completely. I felt I could put up four different profiles.”

      Marie looked up from the papers. “What would you call those profiles? I mean if you had to classify them. What would those four СКАЧАТЬ