Dear Cupid by Julie Ortolon Page B

out together while we discuss a game plan.”
    “Game plan?” he asked as she hooked her arm through his and dragged him back into the aisle.
    “For finding you a date. Last time I checked, dating is the first step toward marriage.” Reaching the lit cases of ties, she selected a conservative stripe. “I don’t suppose you’d consider a dating service.”
    “About as much as I’d consider buying that tie.” He shuddered.
    “All right, no dating service.” She held on to the tie and looked for another one along the same vein. “I guess we’ll have to use the traditional approach.”
    “Which is?” he asked as he perused a section of psychedelic silks.
    “Work, church, social gatherings.”
    He stopped his search long enough to glance at her. “I thought dating coworkers was considered politically incorrect.”
    “Only if it doesn’t work out. And even then, it can be acceptable as long as you observe a few basic rules.”
    “What rules?”
    “You pick someone who works
with
you, not
for
you, although they shouldn’t work too closely to you, like in the same department. And you need to keep the initial flirtation very light and nonthreatening so the work environment won’t become awkward if they’re not interested. So, umm ...”—she gave the selection before her undue attention—“are you interested in anyone you work with?”
    “Hard to say since I’ve just started a new project.”
    “Project?”
    “Movie project,”  he clarified. “So far, everyone I’ve met on this film is either married or male—not exactly my type on either score.”
    “Well, that’s good to hear,” she said, glad to learn he respected marriage vows. As for the other, she’d never thought for a moment he was anything other than a one-hundred-percent heterosexual.
    “How about this one?” He held up a tie-dye pattern so wild her head spun.
    “Honestly?” She laughed, because the tie suited him so well. “I think it’s great, but most women would take one look at that tie and run the other way.” She sighed when he kept the tie and reached for one with flaming chili peppers. “Tell me about the people you’ve worked with on past movies. Have you been drawn to anyone in particular?”
    He considered the question a moment, then shrugged. “Not in particular.”
    “I take it that means you’ve dated several coworkers.” She felt her hackles rise.
    “I’m not sure I’d even call it dating—exactly.”
    “And what ‘exactly’ would you call it?”
    “You have to understand”—he turned toward her—“making a movie is sort of like joining a family. The crew becomes very close for the time they’re thrown together, then they move on to the next project, sometimes together, sometimes not. There isn’t a lot of time for anything as formal as dating in the middle of all that organized chaos.”
    “Not a lot of time for dating? Great!” She waved a hand through the air, fluttering ties. “That’s just great! And since you’re in the middle of a film right now, when exactly did you plan to squeeze in time to find a wife?”
    “Kate ...” He caught her hand and held it still. Her heart leapt as she stared up at him. All amusement had fled from his eyes. “One of the reasons I want a wife is because I need someone to do what you did this morning—pull my nose away from the computer and remind me there is a whole world out here that has nothing to do with the movie industry.” His thumb moved over the inside of her wrist, making her pulse jump. “As much as I enjoy what I do, I want more in my life than that. I need more.”
    Staring up at him, she wondered if she’d been wrong; maybe he was interested in her. While the thought made her heart race, it also sent fear swelling up into her throat. She felt as if she were standing on the edge of a cliff with the wind trying to lift her off the ground. How easy it would be to leap forward with her arms spread just to see if she could fly. And how