Fiancé at Her Fingertips by Kathleen Bacus Read Free Book Online

wallet? He looks like the picture in my wallet?”
    Her father smiled. “Even handsomer,” he said. “Oh, and taller, of course.” He winked.
    “Dad, you couldn’t have met Logan Alexander. You…you…you just couldn’t have!”
    Her father patted her shoulder. “Oh, I know you don’t think you’re ready to bring him home to meet old Ma and Pa here, but I think he’s more than ready, Debra.”
    “You don’t understand, Dad. He’s not who you think he is. He’s not real!”
    “Oh, I don’t know. He seemed very genuine to me. Very sincere and straightforward. Especially about you. His voice and expression changed when he talked about you. I got the impression he cares for you very much, kiddo. At least, he would if you’d let him.”
    “He talked about me ?”
    “Well, of course. Who else would we talk about? The Cubs? As I said, he was very concerned that you were unhappy with him. Something to do with his trip out of town. I’ll tell you one thing, young lady: You’ve got one hell of a golfing partner there. Say, don’t let me forget to do some arm-twisting when he gets here to get him to commit to the best-ball tourney at the club. With him as my partner, we’ll have the title locked up.”
    Debra zeroed in on four small, yet significant words: When he gets here .
    Her stomach cramped. She stood. Her legs felt like wet ramen noodles. “My God, Dad! What have you done?”
    “I haven’t done anything. I extended an invitation for him to join us for lunch; that’s all. I knew you would be here. What better opportunity for us to get to know one another?”
    “You invited him here? A total stranger?”
    “He’s not a total stranger to you, Deb. Besides, he wasvery anxious to track you down, so I thought this would be killing two birds with one stone.”
    Debra clutched his arm. “You gave him your address?”
    “Well, of course I did. But don’t worry; I also wrote down the directions for him.”
    Debra felt like screaming. Her mother beat her to the punch.
    “Stuart!” Alva Daniels yelled. “Did you say he was coming to lunch? Now? Today? Oh, my Lord, I’d better get started on another salad right away! Stuart, why didn’t you call ahead and warn me? You’re always springing something unexpected on me rather than having the common courtesy to call.”
    “I guess I could call him and tell him lunch is off,” Debra’s father said. “He did give me his cell phone number.” He pulled out a business card and reached for the phone.
    Her mother brandished a wicked-looking kitchen knife. “Touch that phone and you pull back a stub,” she threatened. “I’ll make do just fine for lunch. Nobody leaves my table hungry.”
    Talk about your understatements , Debra thought. She blinked.
    “Now, let’s see, I still have some of that rhubarb pastry I made in the fridge,” Alva went on.
    Debra made a no-sugar-lemonade face.
    “That will do nicely for dessert,” her mother continued. “Debra, finish cleaning up that tea, would you, dear?”
    “Did you say he gave you his cell phone number, Dad?” Debra asked.
    “That’s right.”
    “Could I please have a look?”
    His eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t by any chance be considering calling him to tell him not to come, would you, daughter?” her father asked.
    “The thought crossed my mind,” Debra admitted.
    “Too late for that, I’m afraid. I believe that’s him I hear pulling into the driveway.” Stuart Daniels walked to the livingroom and pulled the curtain back, Debra on his heels. “Hmm. Nice, clean vehicle, too. That looks like a—”
    “Don’t tell me,” Debra said, and covered her eyes. “Don’t tell me. Let me guess. A dark blue 2005 Chevrolet Suburban.”
    “Bingo,” her father replied. “And look at the shine on that vehicle. I like a man who knows how to take care of his automobile.”
    “Don’t give him too much credit,” Debra mumbled. “His parents own a car dealership. Uh, Dad, I’d like to, uh, greet