Annie Says I Do. Carole Buck
of teenagers files in. Eventually the lights go down, the movie comes on, and the man and woman watch it. If it’s funny, they both laugh. If it’s sad, they both get choked up—although the man pretends he isn’t. If it’s scary and the woman grabs the man, he probably uses that as an opportunity to cop a—”
“Matthew.”
“What?” he asked, feigning innocence. “Don’t contemporary single guys cop feels?”
“Not unless they want to be accused of sexual harassment.”
“Oh.”
“Modern men are expected to ask permission before they start groping.”
“You mean, ‘May I please put my hand on your—’”
“Let’s get back to the movies,” Annie cut in decisively. “Is talking on your list of things a man and woman do when they go to one?”
“Talking? No. Of course—” Matt stopped, grasping the point she was trying to make. “Oh. I get it.”
“A first date is supposed to be an opportunity for two people to get to know each other,” Annie stressed. “It’s difficult for them to take advantage of that opportunity when they’re sitting in the dark, staring at a big screen, scarfing down empty calories from the refreshment counter.”
Unbidden, Matt’s mind flashed back to his first date with Lisa. He’d taken her to a movie. The evening had pretty much conformed to the pattern Annie had just described. Given the shakiness of his adolescent social skills, this had been perfectly fine with him. It had been hard enough to muster the words he’d needed to ask Lisa if she’d like to go out with him. There was no way he could have carried on an extended conversation with her during the date itself.
As for the business of copping a feel...well, the closest he’d come to that had been the heady half second when his hand had brushed Lisa’s as he’d passed her a paper napkin. He’d damned near swooned at the contact.
Matt glanced toward the right corner of his desk, his gaze settling on a silver-framed photograph of his late wife. The romantic-looking portrait had been taken a week before their wedding. He kept a copy of the same picture tucked away in his wallet.
Rubbing the base of his left ring finger with the ball of his thumb, Matt registered the absence of the wide gold band he’d worn for nearly five years. He’d buried the band along with the woman who’d given it to him.
Lisa, he thought painfully. Oh, sweetheart...
“I’m not saying going to a movie is a bad idea,” Annie went on, sounding as though she felt the need to backpedal. “I mean—”
“I understand exactly what you mean,” Matt interrupted, resolutely steering his thoughts away from the past. “And bad idea or not, I’ll bet I can come up with a better one between now and 7:30 p.m. tomorrow when I pick you up.”
* * *
In Annie’s considered opinion, Matt did.
Come up with a better idea than going to the movies, that is.
“How in heaven’s name did you get a reservation here?” she asked him after they’d been seated at an elegantly appointed table for two in one of Atlanta’s most popular restaurants. “This place has been booked solid since the day it opened.”
Matt shrugged, his expression bland. “Connections.”
“Connections?” Annie picked up the intricately folded linen napkin from the plate in front of her and spread it across her lap.
“You know the computer course I’m teaching at Georgia Tech?”
She nodded.
“The father of one of my students happens to own this place.”
“Ah.”
“I promised the kid a good grade if he got me a table tonight.”
For a split second Annie thought he was serious. Then she saw a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Oh, honestly, Matt,” she chided, starting to laugh.
A moment later an immaculately attired waiter approached their table. He presented them with a pair of handwritten menus, then politely inquired whether they’d like anything from the bar while they considered the evening’s culinary offerings.
“So what do you think?” Matt asked after the man had taken their beverage orders and moved away. He leaned forward, his expression intent. “Would a woman like coming here on a first date?”
Deep down, Annie realized he hadn’t intended the question quite the way it came out. Unfortunately, this realization didn’t prevent his words from flicking her on an unexpectedly tender spot.
“Well, gee,” she returned, her tone like acid-laced honey. “How would I know what a woman would like?”
Matt looked at her, clearly startled. Then he grimaced. “Oh, Lord. Annie, I’m sorry. I wasn’t—”
She dismissed the apology with a gesture. “I know it’s difficult for you, Matt,” she told him. “But this practice date scheme of yours isn’t going to work unless you can start thinking of me—at least occasionally—as having a gender.”
Matt remained silent for a long time, staring into her face. Then the nature of his scrutiny changed. His gaze began to slide downward. Slowly. Very, very slowly.
From her eyes to her lips.
From her lips to her breasts.
By the time he’d completed his leisurely visual inventory and brought his gaze back up to meet hers, Annie’s body was tingling as though it had been infused with electrified champagne. Her breathing was swift and shallow.
“If there’s going to be a problem with our practice dates,” Matt drawled, his voice several notes deeper than usual. “It won’t be due to me forgetting you’re female.”
* * *
That was the first of a series of remarks that left Annie increasingly off-balance as the evening unfolded. It wasn’t until they were midway through their main course that she realized exactly what was going on.
Matt was flirting with her!
His approach wasn’t sweep-her-off-her-feet bold. Nor was it seduce-her-down-the-garden-path subtle. It was...well, Annie wasn’t certain how to describe it except to say that it was pretty darned effective!
But it doesn’t mean anything, she reminded herself firmly, reaching for the glass of Chablis she’d ordered to go with her meal. This is practice, not personal. Matt’s acting the way he thinks a single guy is supposed to behave on a first date. And you’re supposed to be critiquing him.
Annie took a sip of her white wine. All right. Fine. She’d do what she was supposed to do.
Critique Number One.
Um...
Er...
She couldn’t. She just couldn’t! Matt was her best buddy. Their relationship was unique. She couldn’t treat him like a...a—
Like a what? she demanded of herself. Like a man? Like an attractive, eligible man who’s invited you out to dinner?
Annie’s earlier admonition came echoing back.
I know it’s difficult for you, Matt, she’d said. But this practice date scheme of yours isn’t going to work unless you can start thinking of me—at least occasionally—as having a gender.
Et tu, Annie, she thought.
The success of this exercise wasn’t solely dependent on Matt’s perception of her. Her perception of him was an integral ingredient, as well. Therefore, it was incumbent upon her to—
Hold