As long as she didn’t turn me down.
Her eyes met mine, and something inside me settled. Her gaze was warm and open and when she replied, my heart soared.
“I would love to go on a date with you, Jordan.”
I lifted her hand to my mouth and kissed her knuckles.
“Thank you.”
Sandy
I threw yet another dress on the bed and huffed out an exasperated sigh. Nothing I tried on felt right. I looked at the pile on the mattress and wondered if perhaps the reason for that was because each dress I tried had somehow had a memory linked to Max. A dinner we went out to. The night he took me dancing as a surprise before the disease put him in that damn wheelchair. The nights I would dress up and we would share an evening together at home on a “date.”
I sat down, shaking my head. I couldn’t do this. I wasn’t ready to date another man. Even though Jordan told me to think of it as two friends sharing a meal, I knew what it actually was.
I saw the interest in his eyes when we talked yesterday. The pitch of his voice, the way he held my hand, his frank words—none of that said friend.
I reached for my phone to call and cancel, then stopped as his words to me yesterday came back.
“By the way, Sandy, I won’t be taking any calls or messages from you tomorrow. I know you’ll have second thoughts, and you’ll try to cancel. Not happening. We’re going out for dinner. Accept it and maybe, just maybe, you’ll enjoy it.” Then he winked and left the office.
I knew Jordan and his gentle ways. If I called, he would answer, and he would take my decision because that was how he worked. He would be disappointed, but he would accept it, and the next time I saw him at work, treat me no differently from any other day.
I dropped my phone back on the bed. I wasn’t sure I was ready, but I wasn’t sure I wasn’t ready.
I laughed out loud at my thoughts. Even they were confused.
Jordan Hayes was a wonderful man. We had been friends since he started at BAM. He lost his wife, Anna, over four years ago, and for a while, lost himself as well. It took him a long time to recover from his grief, and when Max died, our common bond of losing a spouse brought us closer. He was easy to talk to and understood my grief. We shared many stories, laughter, and tears, and his friendship brought me great comfort.
He was right—I did end our biweekly coffee breaks because I thought we were getting too close. Too familiar. I started to depend on those outings and seeing him, and I felt guilty. Disloyal to Max that I could already need another man’s presence in my life. So I simply stopped the outings. I remained friendly and cordial, but after inventing reasons not to go out for coffee, Jordan got the message and backed off.
Until this past week.
I stood and rehung the dresses I had been trying on back in the closet. I always did my best thinking while my hands were busy.
Jordan drifted through my mind. He was a tall man, his shoulders still straight and wide. His hair was gray, but thick and wavy. He kept it neat and brushed back from his face, and he was usually clean-shaven, although he sported neatly trimmed scruff at times which suited his strong jawline. He wore glasses for reading, his frames setting off his intense green eyes. He preferred dress pants and button-down shirts, the sleeves often rolled up, showing off his forearms. It was rare he wore a suit, but when he did, he wore it well. He was quiet and unflappable, meticulous in his work habits, and well respected in the office. He was always willing to lend a hand, work extra, or pitch in on whatever needed doing. He was well thought of by the partners, and the feelings went both ways—he thought highly of all of them. They called him the King of Paperwork and relied on him for his unfailing dedication.
He was a great man. Thoughtful, kind, and sweet. He always remembered birthdays, had a kind word to say to people, and encouraged those around him.
And I had liked the way his hand felt wrapped around mine the other day.
I hung the last dress and made a decision. I was going on this non-date date, and I needed a new dress to do so.
I picked up my purse and glanced at my watch. It was only two, and Jordan wasn’t picking me up until seven.
I could do this.
Sandy
I opened the door promptly at seven and met Jordan’s warm gaze. My constant plaguing doubts faded away as he regarded me. With a smile, he held out a bunch of irises. He leaned forward and brushed my cheek with his lips.
“You take my breath away, Sandy.”
I accepted the flowers, touched he remembered irises were my favorites, and stepped back. “Come in while I put these in water.” I walked toward the kitchen, calling over my shoulder. “Would you like a drink?”
He followed me, stopping in the doorway as I filled a vase and arranged the flowers. “No thanks, I’m good. I’ll have some wine with dinner.”
“All right.”
“New dress?”
I felt myself blush. “Yes, it is.”
He stepped closer—close enough, I felt the heat of him at my back. “For me?” he asked quietly.
My heart rate picked up, and all I could do was nod. As soon as I saw the simple, deep-blue dress, I knew it was perfect. It skimmed my breasts, fluttered around my knees, and the scooped neck was elegant yet sexy. It felt like me, and the color, Jordan had admitted the other day, one of his favorites.
He settled his hands on my shoulders and turned me around. Our eyes met, gentle green holding my nervous hazel, and he smiled. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Ready to go to dinner?”
I drew in some much-needed oxygen. My stomach fluttered, and my breathing had picked up at his closeness. It felt odd…yet right. “Yes.”
He crooked his arm. “Then let’s go.”
I set down my wine, laughing. “I wish I had seen that.”
Jordan chuckled, wiping his eyes. “It was amusing. Van always makes me laugh. But watching him carry Liv out over one shoulder and Sammy over the other—all while Liv was giving him shit about something and Sammy was pretending to be queen of the castle and calling him Prince Van? It was priceless.” He shook his head. “I’m going to miss having him around every day.”
“He’ll be in and out, I’m sure. Bentley is constantly needing him for something.”
“Thank goodness for that.”
The waiter appeared, removing our plates. Dinner had been…fun. More fun than I could recall having in a very long time. The food was excellent, the wine superb, and the company perfect. Jordan was charming, funny, courteous, and the most gracious of dinner companions. We’d shared an appetizer, tasted each other’s meals, and talked the entire time. There was no awkwardness or stilted moments. The evening simply flowed.
I perused the dessert menu with a sigh. “I think I’m too full.”
“Nonsense,” Jordan exclaimed. “There is always room for dessert.”
“Says the man with the sweet tooth.”
He grinned. “I do have that. Anna used to keep baked goods on hand for me all the time. I constantly raided the cookie jar.”
I chuckled. “Max was the same. He never met a dessert he didn’t like.”
“Smart guy. Now, what looks good?”