Confessions of a Serial Dater Read online

“Not at first—no money,” Charlie tells him. “Plus, Rosie thought we should be sensible and get ‘proper’ jobs for a while. Me in a large PR conglomerate,” Charlie shudders. “I hated it. And Rosie worked in human resources for an equally faceless company.”

  “I hated it, too,” I say, because I did.

  “Especially your prick of a boss,” Charlie says.

  “I’m convinced to this day that it was his mission in life to torment me and make my life as miserable as possible. Oddly for a human resources director, he didn’t like the idea of women getting above their ‘station’ in life. He never said as much, but he didn’t have to.”

  “His final method of Rosie torture,” Charlie tells Luke, “were the requests for totally useless reports on which Rosie would waste copious amounts of time.”

  “Yes, and the hair that broke this particular camel’s back was when he insisted that I research and produce a report on what the company employees were eating, and how it affected their performance. This was due to his belief that the way forward was to instruct and police our employees to follow company food-consumption requirements.”

  “Which, of course, would never work,” Luke says. “Because you can’t dictate what people eat, and the board would throw it out, anyway.”

  “If, in fact, it ever got as far as the board,” I jump in. “Which it wouldn’t, because, as I said, it was a time-wasting exercise.”

  “Which prompted Rosie to throw in her job and I joined her,” Charlie says. “Although it helped that Rosie had come into a bit of money from her granddad, and I’d made a couple of killer commissions.” Charlie winks at Luke. “As I said, our Rosie likes to play things a bit safe.”

  “Hey, it doesn’t hurt to be sensible. Most of the time,” I say, going all hot again as I read that would-I-take-a-risk-on-him? question again in his face. I look back at the mahogany bar.

  “So, Odd Jobs was born,” Charlie says. “And our fame is spreading like wildfire through the London suburbs. Frankly, I’m shocked you haven’t heard of us—we provide some stellar cleaning staff to the good hospitals of this city.”

  “But only in West London,” I interrupt.

  “You just have no idea about PR,” Charlie sighs and shakes his head at me. “How many times have I told you about spin?”

  “But where did you come up with the idea of odd kinds of jobs?” Luke asks. “I mean, I did some vacation and part-time jobs myself to help with medical school,” he says, which is a surprise, considering the fact that his family can afford staff.

  “But your family has staff,” I say before I can stop myself.

  “This is just getting better by the minute.” Charlie is lapping this up. “Utterly gorgeous, saves lives, rich. Carmen’s going to love you.”

  “Charlie,” I warn him.

  “Who’s Carmen?” Luke asks.

  “Never you mind,” I say. “Forget Carmen. We’re fascinated by why you worked to put yourself through college.” At least, I am.

  “Nothing fascinating about it. My mother believed in making me earn some of the vast quantities of cash she was investing in my education,” Luke explains. “But the oddest thing I ever did was stock shelves at the local supermarket. I had very boring odd jobs. Although I did work at a stable one summer, which mainly involved shoveling horse manure.”

  Which is why he’s such a nice, well-grounded, nonsnobby man, I think. God, he’s lovely.

  “Not bad, not bad,” Charlie says. “But you can’t beat Rosie for the odd jobs she did in college. She was our inspiration—she spotted a niche in the market.”

  “Through absolutely no fault of my own, this included dinosaur dusting at the Museum of Natural History and armpit sniffing for deodorant efficiency studies.”

  “People really do that?”

  “And this from a man who delivers babies?” I ask.

  “They do a whole host of odd things,” Charlie adds. “Which is exactly the point. Including the time we both worked the help line for the baby formula company.”

  “All those sleep-deprived, neurotic parents in need of a friendly, reassuring voice in the wee hours of the morning,” I tell Luke. “It suddenly struck me, one sleep-deprived night. Who knew there were such strange jobs out there? And how did people find out about them?”

  “Well, where did you find out about them? I’ve got to say, the armpit sniffing is peculiar.”

  “For me, it was usually luck—I’d see an ad in my local grocery store, or a friend would pass on the information. But then, we thought, what if we launched an agency that encompassed all these odd jobs? With Charlie’s PR and drag act experience, and mine with placing people in the right jobs, plus my business degree, it would be the perfect solution.” I shut up as I realize that I’m getting carried away. “Well, there’s nothing wrong with loving one’s job, is there?”

  “Not at all. It’s good to love something you spend a good portion of your daily life doing.”

  “Tell me,” Charlie says. “This is something I’ve thought about before. Doesn’t it put you off sex, looking at vaginas all day?”

  “Charlie.” Honestly, does he live to embarrass me? Before Luke can answer, Charlie’s cell phone saves us.

  “Ohmigod,” Charlie says as he checks the caller ID. “It’s him. It’s Lewis. What shall I say? Oh, never mind, I’ll think of something,” he says. “See you both later.” And then, “Sweetie, I was just about to call you back,” as he wanders off.

  “I like him.” Luke’s eyes crinkle.

  “Well, I make a point of acquiring only likeable friends.”

  “That’s good. What about me? Am I likeable?”

  “I haven’t decided yet if you’re likeable or certifiable,” I say, laughing as I deflect his question, because I like him too much.

  “And just for the record. I don’t, as it happens,” Luke tells me.

  “Sorry?”

  “Get bored. Looking at vaginas.”

  “I’m so glad you shared that with me.” I can’t decide whether to laugh or blush, so I laugh to cover the blush.

  “I’m so glad our paths crossed again.”

  “Yes. You said.”

  “So I was wondering—” He pauses.

  Ohmygod. He’s going to ask me out.

  “Yes?”

  I definitely think he’s going to at least ask for my telephone number.

  And then he does it again. He teases me, he cranks up the tension (like I need more tension at this point) and switches gears.

  “What are your thoughts about marriage?”

  Well, that’s one I wasn’t expecting. Is he asking my intentions? Or am I about to get the let’s-just-have-some-fun-with-no-commitment speech, because I’ve heard it before.

  “Um—” I begin, but before I can worry about what, exactly, is going to tumble out of my mouth, Charlie comes dashing across the bar again.

  “I know this is going to sound trite and vacuous, but I don’t mean it in a trite, vacuous way, but you know that line ‘Is there a doctor in the house?’ Well, they need a doctor in the ballroom.”

  “What’s happened?” Luke says, all business, as he strides toward the entrance and we follow.

  “It’s Rosie’s cousin Elaine,” Charlie says. “She thinks she’s going into early labor.”

  “Oh, God.” I don’t like Elaine much, but I’d never wish any harm to her. “She’s only twenty weeks’ pregnant.”

  “I’ll just collect my bag from the concierge desk,” Luke says. “Make sure someone’s called an ambulance.”

  11

  The Best-Laid Plans

  Rosie’s Confession:

  Apparently, about a hundred people per year choke to death on ballpoint pens. I mean, how do they do it?

  I mention this because it’s pretty depressing to think that I have more chance of, say, expiring through pen misuse than getting laid…

  “I’ll go back to our table and wait,” Charlie tells me as we reach the main ballroom. “I’m not re
ally one for, you know, blood and gore,” he shudders dramatically, and I shudder too, because neither am I, but am hoping this won’t be a blood or gore situation. Poor, poor Elaine!

  “Good plan,” I say. “They don’t want extra sightseers clogging up the airspace. I’ll come and let you know as soon as I have some news.” Hopefully good news…

  As I get closer, I can see that Elaine is lying on the plush carpet at the front of the room, with a jacket under her head for support.

  She looks so very small and so very vulnerable. I mean, she is small, generally, but she seems even tinier than usual.

  People—fortunately, all three hundred of them—have remained quietly in their seats, and the hum of low, concerned voices obviously means that they all know what is going on.

  A worried Auntie Pat and Uncle Bill are also with Elaine, as is Harry, and I can’t help but wonder if he is actually the father of the baby. Although Elaine is still being very secretive on that score. I hope fervently that he isn’t, because all children deserve a father who is faithful and not trying to pick up the cousin of his child’s mother, don’t they?

  Also in attendance are Ned, in his capacity as a doctor, and Flora. She is a rock of calm stability.

  And at least there is another obstetrician in the room. My obstetrician, Luke. Thank goodness he is here, because he can take over from poor Ned.

  “Everything’s going to be fine,” Ned tells Elaine. “The ambulance will be here in a minute, and we’ll soon have you safely in the hospital.”

  “Oh, thank you, Ned,” I hear Elaine tell him in a small voice. “It’s such a relief that you were on hand. Flora, you’re so lucky to be marrying a doctor.”

  “You’re in the best hands,” Flora tells her. “The main thing is not to panic, for the sake of the baby.”

  “I hope you don’t mind me hijacking the groom,” Elaine says as Ned feels her stomach over the top of her thin dress. “It’s just that I know Ned. I just feel better in the care of someone I know and trust. Especially in a white, impersonal hospital. I hate hospitals…” she trails off.

  But that’s entirely normal, isn’t it? I mean, if I were in need of immediate medical attention, much better to get it from someone I actually know, someone who is really and truly invested in my well-being.

  “It’s fine,” Flora says reassuringly. “Ned’s first and foremost responsibility is to his patients.”

  “How’s she doing?” Luke asks as he arrives and kneels down next to Elaine, his medical bag in hand. Oh, but he’s so cool, so calm, so collected…

  “A little worried, a little scared, but she looks in good shape,” Ned says jovially. And then, “Thanks for the help, my friend, but Elaine’s had a shock and wants me to attend her.”

  “I understand perfectly,” Luke says, giving her a killing, yet reassuring, smile. “It’s okay, Elaine. I’m Luke Benton, also an obstetrician. Ned and I work together, but if you’re more comfortable with Ned taking care of business, that’s fine.”

  “I can’t tell you how grateful I am,” Elaine says, her little-girl face stricken with worry as she fastens her eyes on Luke, and I mentally kick myself for having been such a bitch to her in the past.

  I feel awful for every bad thing I’ve ever said about her.

  Not that she hasn’t deserved it on occasion, but the reality that she might lose her baby is frightening.

  “I can’t feel any contractions,” Ned tells Luke, keeping his tone cheerful as he removes his stethoscope and unwraps the bandage from her arm. “Blood pressure and temperature are perfectly normal.”

  “It’s probably just a very bad case of indigestion.” Poor Elaine is pitiful. “And the dizziness seems to have settled a bit.”

  “And all the excitement of the party,” Luke tells her, smiling his charming smile.

  “She’s been suffering from terrible heartburn,” Auntie Pat says. “And morning sickness.”

  “Both good signs,” Luke says. “But one can never be too careful in these circumstances. I’m sure it’s nothing, but it won’t hurt to make doubly sure by taking a trip to the hospital.”

  “Thank you, Luke,” Elaine tells him, putting her hand on his arm and squeezing it. Oh, but Luke really is a hero! “And you, Ned. I’ll never forget your kindness. I just feel so bad about ruining your party, Flora. Will you ever forgive me?”

  “Think no more about it,” Flora says cheerfully. “Just you concentrate on feeling better, dear girl.”

  And then the ambulance team arrives with a stretcher, and the paramedics, along with Ned and Luke, carefully help Elaine onto it.

  “Right, off we go,” Ned says cheerfully.

  “Oh, I can’t drag you away from your own party,” Elaine declares dramatically. “I think Luke can manage,” she adds with a winsome smile.

  And in that moment I really think that her pregnancy has softened her. How lovely that she, at this worrying time, can think about other people!

  “Yes, Ned, you must stay,” Luke stresses. “I know Elaine is family—or soon to be family, but no need for both of us to go haring off in the ambulance. What about your partner?” he asks Elaine. “The baby’s father?”

  “Oh, Harry’s not the father.” Elaine’s voice is all pathos. “Harry’s just a—an old friend, supporting me in my time of need,” she says, as tears spring to her eyes. “The—the baby’s father didn’t want to know. When I told him my news, he deserted us both.”

  God, I know I haven’t gotten on well with her in the past, and I know she doesn’t have to worry about money and such, but it must be a really daunting prospect—having to go through pregnancy alone. Coping with a baby on your own…

  “I’m sorry,” Luke tells her, his handsome face sympathetic yet professional.

  “Don’t worry about a thing, darling,” Auntie Pat tells her. “Mummy’s coming with you, too, and Daddy can follow in the car.”

  “Do you want me to come?” I ask. I feel I ought to do something to help.

  “You’re such a sweetie,” Elaine tells me in her little-girl voice as she wipes away a tear. “But the best thing you can do formeis to stay here and enjoy yourself. Harry will look after you,” she adds with a small smile. “Luke will take care of me.”

  How thoughtful of her! That she could wish me well at this difficult time. The comment about Harry looking after me was a bit thoughtless of her, though, but then she’s got other things on her mind right now. Pregnancy really seems to be changing her.

  And as they leave, I try to make eye contact with Luke.

  “Oh, I feel a bit sick,” Elaine says, which means that Luke’s eyes are firmly fastened on her. I don’t even figure on his radar anymore. Which is just as it should be, I tell myself. His total concentration on his patient is so dedicated and doctorly.

  But, and I know it’s a bit selfish of me, in light of everything that’s going on, I’d hoped for just a last few words with Luke. Or more…

  I can’t help it. I immediately slip into daydream mode…

  Picture this: I am pregnant, abandoned, alone.

  Walking along Camden Lock, a hit-and-snatch thief has just grabbed my handbag, which contains only maxed-out credit cards and will do him no good anyway. But because I don’t want to harm my baby I let him take it, but unfortunately, the shock sets in and so does labor, and I fall to the floor in pain.

  Dr. Love, who just happens to be passing, has seen the whole thing (obviously, he’s been watching me because pregnancy has given me a fragile, delicate bloom, but he doesn’t know yet that my partner has deserted me, and Luke is kicking himself for not finding me nine months earlier) and comes running to the rescue, medical bag in hand.

  As he takes my blood pressure (off the scale, due to my madly beating heart after the thief episode and Dr. Luke being so damned attractive), he looks straight into my eyes.

  “Sweet Mystery of Life, at Last I’ve Found You,” is once again playing in the background.

  And as I am transported to the hosp
ital, Dr. Love holds my hand in the ambulance. I tell him my tale of woe, and he is impressed by my backbone, my determination to give my child as normal a life as possible.

  Dr. Love—I mean, Dr. Luke—and I fall in love between contractions.

  And when I am released, Dr. Luke is awaiting me with his car, a huge bouquet of flowers, a magnum of champagne, and a baby seat….

  And as we drive off into the sunset to live happily ever after, Harry says, “Well, that was quite a drama. How about we slip away to a nice, quiet bar and get a drink? Or a bottle of something sexy that slides down the throat? We could—see how things go from there.”

  It was a crap daydream, anyway.

  “Oh, but you’re smooth.”

  “Thank you,” he beams, taking it as a compliment.

  “I can’t believe you’ve got such a nerve,” I say, my eyes on the back of Luke’s head as he progresses across the room. How callous is Harry, in view of Elaine’s predicament?

  “You can’t blame a bloke for trying. Faint heart never did win fair maid,” he says smoothly. “How am I doing? Don’t you think it’s time we let bygones be bygones?”

  I look up into his handsome face, and he’s so appealingly rueful. And just for a moment, I’m tempted to do something rash.

  “It’s seven years, Rosie, and all I’m asking for is a second chance.”

  He is very enticing. And cute, and endearing. And it’s Valentine’s Day…maybe I should take him up on his offer, take him home with me, have wild, casual sex with him and then ruthlessly dump him.

  But, and this is just a personal-to-me thing, I’ve just never been one for casual sex. I tried it. Twice. And it just left me cold. I know it’s silly in this day and age, but I need to feel invested in a bloke, to at least trust him, before I’ll hop into bed with him. Harry I do not trust as far as I could throw him.

  And after the day I’ve had with the garden gnomes and just missing my chance with another tempting, cute, endearing man, and Elaine’s worrying exit from the party, I’m not feeling at my best.

  “Harry, I’m sure you mean every word,” I say, thinking that he probably doesn’t. And besides, I’m not sure I’ll ever rid myself of the image of him and Elaine at my twenty-first. “Thanks. But no thanks.”