To Catch a Husband. Laura Altom Marie

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      If she were truly serious about finding a husband instead of a guy friend—yes.

      “HOW COME you’re not with Adam?” her big sister, Stephanie, asked that night. She sat on the foot of her bed, painting her toenails Tequila Pink.

      “Since when is tequila pink?” Charity asked, reading the name on the bottom of the bottle.

      “Probably since the color designers ran out of legitimate pinks. Now, nice try at changing the subject, but you never, ever come to see me on a weeknight unless you need money. So out with it. How much are you short this month and what exotic bug am I helping to import?”

      “There are no bugs and can’t I come see you because I miss you?”

      “Sure. I’d love it if that were the real reason you’re here.” She put the final coat on her last toe, then screwed the lid on the bottle. Holding it out to Charity, she asked, “Want to do yours?”

      “No, thanks.”

      “Different color?” she asked, pointing Vanna White-style at her vast array of polish.

      “Steph?”

      “Yes?” Duck-walking so as not to muss her toes, she headed to her closet for a dress to wear on her date with Dr. Larry, a pediatrician. This was her first real relationship since her amicable divorce with her stockbroker ex, Todd. He was East Coast, she was West, and the two never really met halfway.

      “This is going to sound strange,” Charity said. “But do you think I’m pretty?”

      “Of course.”

      “That was weak. Like you’re just saying that because you’re my big sister. Come on, I can take it. Tell me the truth.”

      “Sweetie…” Steph returned to the bed, put her hands on Charity’s knees. “If you’d let me have my way with your clothes and hair and makeup for a couple hours, you wouldn’t be just pretty, but gorgeous.”

      “Now I know you’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

      “Wanna bet? And what brought all of this on? You’ve never given two figs about your appearance. I’ve always envied that in you. Your knack for being yourself.”

      “Yeah, well…” Charity made a face. “Right about now, being me sucks. All my mixed-up feelings are thanks to Adam.” She told her sister what had transpired between her and her supposed best friend—stressing the part about how mortifying it’d been that here she’s crazy in love with him, yet he only sees her as a pal who’d be handy for duping his shrink.

      “And so you turned down his proposal?” Steph asked.

      “He didn’t propose! He asked me to be his fake date!”

      “I know,” her sister said. “You get what I mean. His proposal for the two of you to pretend date.”

      “Of course, I turned him down,” Charity reasoned. “You think I shouldn’t have?”

      “Well…” In the bathroom, Steph expertly wielded her hair-straightening iron. “Seems to me, if you’re serious about having a baby and husband, maybe you’re going about this all wrong. What if you agreed to be Adam’s date, only to show him how fantastic the two of you could be on another level?”

      “Oh, please.” Playing around with her sister’s eyeliner, Charity said, “How am I going to do that when he doesn’t even see me as a woman?”

      “That’s a cop-out,” Steph said. “I’ll guarantee if you doll yourself up, he’ll see you differently. And another thing, you’re scared that even if you make an effort to transform yourself into a bona fide hottie, Adam still won’t get the message. And then what?”

      “I’m not scared,” Charity said. “Of anything.” Except maybe missing her window of opportunity.

      She wasn’t sure why she wanted kids. Because as Adam had pointed out, raising them would take up a huge chunk of her time. Work would be logistically tough. But knowing that didn’t stop the wanting. The yearning every time some lucky woman returned from maternity leave, brandishing her newborn, passing him or her around. When Charity took her turn and felt the trusting warmth against her chest, the impossibly soft scents of lotion and powder, and cute little clothes, she wanted a baby all her own, all the more. Along with the adoring husband proudly standing nearby, lugging around baby equipment.

      That was the eternal problem. Sure, in this day and age, all Charity had to do to get a baby would be to pay a visit to the local sperm bank. Surely a town the size of Portland had one, or a dozen. But what was the fun in having a baby if she didn’t have anyone to share it with? Meaning what she really wanted in her greedy heart of hearts was the total package. The perfect little family to match her already perfect job.

      Charity pitched the eyeliner in the cosmetics basket and headed for the bathroom door. “I’d better get going and let you finish dressing for your big date.”

      “You don’t have to leave,” Steph said. “In fact, why don’t you come with us? Larry’s been saying he’d like to meet you.”

      “Thanks,” Charity said at the door to her sister’s bungalow. “But I’ve got a big night. Just got a Eupatorus gracilicornis in from Thailand that needs mounting.”

      “Okay, but if you ever want to take me up on that makeover, I’ll be here. Seriously, Charity, enough’s enough where Adam’s concerned. Not that it’s any of my business, but it’s high time you gave the man a wake-up call.”

      That made Charity laugh.

      “What’s so funny?”

      “The notion of Adam ever realizing we could be so much more than friends. In fact, I set him up with someone in the hopes of him moving on. That way, maybe I could move along, as well.”

      Steph rolled her eyes.

      “WHO WAS THAT?” Bear asked Adam on Tuesday as they filed back into the courtroom after the noon recess.

      “Oh, you mean the redhead I did lunch with?” Adam asked.

      “Duh. She was hot. A scorcher.”

      Adam shrugged. “True. Bug hooked us up. But truthfully, while she’s easy on the eyes, and from what I read between the lines, a closet nympho, I thought by the end of it, my ears were gonna bleed. Blah, blah, blah…If I’d had to hear one more thing about her demon ex, I’d have gnawed my hand off to get it out of her whiny clutches. What I wouldn’t have given to just do lunch with Bug.”

      “What’s up with you two?” Bear asked, holding open the door while Adam stepped through.

      “Long story. Don’t ask.”

      All through the afternoon session, Adam was forced to stare at Bug. His best friend. Who for some unknown reason since Sunday morning had pretty much refused to speak to him—except for setting up his lunch from hell. Which, come to think of it, she might’ve done it for spite.

      He didn’t get it. One minute СКАЧАТЬ