Man of Her Dreams Page 6

  “And she discussed that with you?” Beth said, laughing.

  Actually, one of the women from his Bible study had asked his opinion about it. He’d treated her concern as seriously as she seemed to. But he shrugged and let them think what they would.

  “The whole idea of having a list is just so calculating,” Meg said defensively.

  “Not necessarily,” he said. “If the guy doesn’t meet the criteria, you move on to a better prospect. It saves a lot of time.”

  “He’s right, Meg, and you’re not getting any younger,” Beth said, rising. “Let me get a pen and notepad. With Ry and me to help, it’ll be easy.”

  Meg sighed. She would rather have worn that scratchy dress all night than do this.

  While they waited for Beth to return, Ry channel-surfed on the muted TV, and, for the first time tonight, Meg allowed herself the luxury of really looking at Ry.

  Right on cue, the butterfly troop went berserk, responding erratically to the sight of this great-looking guy. They didn’t seem to realize that Ry was her pal, her unofficial brother and treasured friend. And that’s all she wanted him to be, no matter what the troop thought.

  Those high cheekbones, the wide forehead and slightly hollowed cheeks with long, deep dimples were just as gorgeous as ever. His dark blond hair was much shorter than his pool boy days, but it still curled in tousled waves that most women would die for.

  His teeth were still beautifully straight from the years all three of them had worn braces, and his lips still turned a little sideways when he talked, as if a smile were always ready—which was handy because Ry inevitably saw the funny side of everything.

  His eyes were more gray than green, but the color wasn’t the important thing. It was his intense gaze that made a person feel prettier, smarter and more interesting than she probably was. Ry invariably saw the best in a person, which was a wonderful quality and one of the reasons he’d been the most popular boy in school.

  “What’s first on your list?” Ry asked.

  They were back to that? She wanted to make their time together a fun memory for Ry, but did she have to do this? “If I have to do this,” she said, “It might be easier to say what I don’t want,” she said, digging deep for a good attitude.

  “No problem,” Beth said, drawing a line down the center of her paper. “‘What Meg Wants,’” she muttered, writing, “and ‘What Meg Doesn’t Want.’ Okay, what’s first?”

  “‘Good-looking,’” Ry said. “That’s one, and ‘rich’ will be two.”

  “They won’t even be on my list! I’m not that shallow,” Meg protested.

  “You’re not shallow at all,” he agreed, “but they’d be on my list.”

  They would not. Ry would have “gorgeous” on his list, but neither he nor Beth would care about cash, not when they had money to spare.

  “Well, it’s not your list,” his sister lectured. “We’ll make one for you later. C’mon, Meg, what’s one?”

  Meg really hated doing this, but Beth was relentless. As much as Meg loved being with the two of them, it was exhausting, feeling Ry’s eyes on her, knowing he was only assessing her “grown-up” changes while the butterflies reacted as if it were a man-woman thing.

  The sooner this project was done, the better. “Number one is that my guy has to love God and go to church with me.” She said that firmly just in case Beth would try to talk her out of that. Her faith and Beth’s lack of it was one of the things that separated them these days.

  “Excellent choice,” Ry approved, his face beaming. “That would top my list, too.”

  Meg could not have been more shocked if Ry had confessed to hosting tea parties. Beth stared at her brother as if he had.

  “Faith’s become a big part of my life,” he said. “I wouldn’t be here tonight if it weren’t for that. I need to make things right with Mom and Dad. Or at least try. On a good day, I’d even like to get along with Trey.”

  Meg could feel her eyes burn with tears. Ry, the rebel, the renegade, the guy you could count on to do just the opposite of what was expected, had surprised them again. This was wonderful.

  Though apparently not to Beth. She tapped the notepad with her pen in irritation. “If you want, I can leave you two to talk religion.”

  “No, you don’t,” Meg said, recovering and scooting over on the sofa, the better to loop her arm around Beth’s shoulder and peek at the list Beth had started. “You can’t abandon us now. We’ve barely begun this thing.”

  With all of her heart, Meg wanted Beth to share her love of the Lord. Until she came around in her own time, Meg would love her as unconditionally as she could.

  “What’s next, Meg?” Ry asked, his voice a little raspy, as if he shared her emotions.

  “I guess number one on the ‘don’t want’ side would be that I don’t want the marriage my parents had.”

  That seemed to surprise both Ry and Beth.

  “I thought they had a great marriage,” Ry said.

  “I never heard either of them say a cross word to the other,” Beth added.

  Meg shrugged. “When did you ever hear them say much of anything to the other? They lived separate lives…. Mom in her studio, lost in her art, and Dad, on the job, building houses from sunrise to sundown.”

  “But they seemed happy,” Beth said.

  “They were. In their way, they loved each other very much, and they gave us kids a great life, but I’m not like them. I don’t want to spend my life on my own. I want a guy who’ll be my best friend, who’ll want to spend time with me, a guy who’ll love me more than his job.”

  “Mom would approve of that one,” Beth said, writing.

  Ry frowned. “Don’t put that down. Meggy, you want a guy who loves his job. For a guy, that’s really important.”

  “That’s so sexist, Ry.” Beth frowned. “Women ought to love their jobs, and men ought to enjoy making a home.”

  Ry shook his head, still good-humored, but definitely disagreeing. “Most men aren’t wired that way, Beth.”

  “Well, they ought to be.”

  “Whatever. But how’s Mr. Right going to make Meg happy if he isn’t happy?”

  “I’m not unreasonable,” Meg said. “I don’t expect Mr. Right to shop or enjoy chick flicks.”

  “Good call,” Ry approved, laughing softly.

  “But he’s got to like my company enough to want to spend time with me.”

  Ry nodded, agreeing. “Just make sure that he doesn’t count the time you’re in the bleachers and he’s on the ball diamond as ‘time spent with you.’”

  Beth gave her brother a low five. “It’s a good thing you’re here, Ry.”

  It was. Meg wouldn’t have thought of that.

  “So, we’re really talking about balance,” Beth said, her pen poised above the paper. “How about putting down that Meg wants a guy in a profession where he can spend time with her?”

  “Mr. Right will want that, too,” Ry agreed. “Who wouldn’t want to spend time with a babe like Meg?”

  A babe? Oh, that was nice. Half of her thrilled; the other half wanted to smack him.

  “Does that work for you, Meg?” Beth asked.

  She shrugged. They could do this without her.

  “But I’m going to write ‘not a doctor’ in parentheses. You don’t want a doctor, Meg. Being one, being the daughter and granddaughter of one, I know they’re never home.”

  “But you chose to be one,” Ry said, obviously amused.

  “Yes, and I’m never home.”

  “I can vouch for that,” Meg muttered.

  “So, are you saying you’ll never get married?” Ry asked his sister more seriously.

  “No, I’m not saying that! I want to be in love almost as much as Meg.”

  “Beth!” Meg shouldered her hard, protesting.

  “But when I do marry,” Beth continued, rubbing her shoulder, “it will probably be to another medic, someone who’ll understand the life. Meg, shall I write down ‘best frie
nd who’ll want to spend time with me and has a job where he can,’ or just ‘guy who’ll devote himself to me’?”

  “Either one. You might as well put down ‘sensitive to my needs.’” She would be as likely to find that guy as one who would devote himself to her.

  “Whoa!” Ry made a time-out signal. “You can not put that down. We will not set Meg up for failure. He won’t be Mr. Right if he’s sensitive. No self-respecting male is. Better go for a good sense of humor.”

  “Like you, Ry?” his sister asked slyly.

  He sent that killer smile Meg’s way…a move that set the butterfly troop dancing again.

  “It’s important to laugh. Right, Meg?” he asked.

  It was important. So was breathing, which she would like to do and could, as soon as this tingle torture thing ran its course. “Put ‘good sense of humor’ down, Beth,” her voice so stupidly breathy that Beth laughed out loud.

  Writing, Beth said, “Next, he has to have a job.”

  Ry nodded. “But don’t we already have that? He has to have a job where he can devote himself to her.”

  “You’re right, which eliminated a doctor,” Beth said.

  They really could do this without her, and she could use some more coffee. Meg started to rise.

  Beth pulled her back. “Hey, we’re working here.”

  “Well, are we talking about my list or yours?”

  “You don’t think Mr. Right needs a job?” Beth asked.

  “Don’t support the bum, Meg,” Ry advised. “Make him work for his supper.”

  The two of them were too much for her. “Fine. Write it down, and add that he ought to have goals and a clearly defined career plan.”

  “Oh, that’s good,” Beth approved, writing furiously.

  “What’s that mean?” Ry asked, frowning.

  Meg didn’t know. She’d just thrown it in to participate. She settled back into the sofa pillows, thinking fast. “Well, I think Mr. Right would want to improve himself. He ought to have some sense of upward mobility and not be stuck in a rut.” That was good, even if it was off the cuff. Too bad they weren’t giving points for originality.

  “So,” Ry said, rising from his chair as if he needed to stretch his legs, “you want a guy who’s going to make something of himself, live up to his potential, meet expectations, that kind of thing.”

  Meg’s heart stilled. She knew how Ry felt about that kind of thing. When Trey had been set as the standard, Ry had made a point of not measuring up. Her careless words had placed them square in the middle of a minefield.

  “Like Ry said before,” she said brightly, determined to lead them back out, “I want my guy to be happy. And I want him to like children.” Ry loved kids. She knew that.

  Beth looked at her with the love best friends have for each other. “He wouldn’t be Mr. Right if he didn’t like kids,” she agreed, setting pen to paper.

  “And he has to like my friends,” Meg added, keeping the ball rolling.

  “I’ll give him a challenge,” Beth promised with a smile.

  Ry walked to the window and stared into the dark.

  What else could she come up with? “Beth, make sure you put down that Mr. Right has to work out.” There, that was for Ry. A guy didn’t get pecs like his on a paramedic run.

  “And I think he should eat healthy,” she added.

  “Excellent.” Beth scribbled fast. “He’ll live longer, but we won’t make him a vegan. You love a good steak.”

  It was true. The Maguires loved meat and potatoes.

  “I don’t think Mr. Right should engage in high-risk stuff.” That came from Ry on the other side of the room. “If he’s good husband and father material, he’ll be safety-conscious.”

  Meg smiled at Beth. Not only was that an unexpected contribution, it was good to have Ry back in the game.

  “That’s rich,” his sister said, “coming from Mr. Motorcycle himself.”

  He walked back to his chair, a half smile on his face. “That remark was for Trey’s benefit. I sold my bike years ago. I drive a big, safe SUV, and I worry about women like Meg who drive little death-trap sports cars.”

  “Do not disrespect my car,” Meg ordered. She loved her car. “It gets great mileage, and I save lots of money.” Actually, she wasn’t a very good saver. “Beth, put down that Mr. Right has to know how to save money.”

  Beth giggled. “Because you can’t save a dime.”

  “Well, one of us should think of the future.”

  Beth grinned. “Good planning. Anything else?”

  “I think that’s it, except there must be major attraction at first sight, if not love.”

  “That’s a given.” Beth tore off the page and handed it over. “There you go. Call it a prescription for love. If you can’t find Mr. Right with that, this isn’t L.A.”

  “I won’t settle for less.”

  “Of course not,” Beth said.

  “Should we pray about the list?” Ry asked.

  Meg was shocked. Not only had Ry thought of praying, but he’d said it. He was probably a better Christian than she was. “Whether we call it a New Year’s resolution or make it a prayer, I really do want God’s choice for me,” she said, reaching for Ry’s and Beth’s hands.

  But Beth rose from the sofa. “I think I’ll leave the praying to the two of you.”

  Meg’s eyes met Ry’s. Their first prayer would be that Beth would discover their Lord.

  Chapter Five

  Ry tiptoed into Beth’s bedroom, careful not to wake his sister and Meg. If this wasn’t the only way to get to the bathroom, he wouldn’t be invading their privacy, although Beth had assured him he wouldn’t wake her. He could believe that. When they were young, Beth could sleep through an earthquake.

  But he kept his eyes forward, not even glancing their way. He wouldn’t have been so careful when they were kids. Back then, he would sling either girl over his shoulder in the fireman’s carry and barely notice the weight of their skinny little bodies. And there had been no thought of boy-girl attraction, nothing like he’d felt for Meg last night.

  He’d almost reached the bathroom when Meg mumbled, and instinct made him turn. He wished he hadn’t. Talk about a sleeping beauty. That long, dark hair splayed over the snowy white pillow was a sight he would not soon forget.

  Gentleman that he was, he looked away as soon as his sleep-deprived brain allowed, though his heart pounded as if he’d carried an overweight patient down a flight of stairs.

  What he needed was a long, steamy shower to clear his head. Sharp, alert, ready for anything—that’s how he wanted to be when he met his dad. Another chance like this might not come along.

  There was a good possibility that he might leave the meeting no closer to his dad, but he would have the satisfaction that he’d tried. Ry meant to honor his parents and turn the other cheek until they saw that he wasn’t the same anger-driven son who’d left years ago.

  Water pelted over his head and sluiced down his neck and shoulders, easing the tension he’d created for himself, building expectations that might be too high.

  He thought of the kid yesterday, going to meet his Maker without anyone who loved him by his side. Family was important, even if Ry had denied that for a long time.

  Poor kid. At least he hadn’t been afraid, thanks to Ry’s reassurances.

  But had he been wrong to play down the seriousness of the kid’s condition? If Ry were the one with only minutes to live, he’d want to know. A person ought to have the opportunity to say “I love you” one more time to…

  The lack of a ready answer was a wrench in the gut. When had he ever said that to anyone? Not a girl. That was for sure. Not his mom or his dad. The Brennans didn’t talk about their feelings.

  There had been girlfriends who said he should open up, and one, Teresa the cheerleader, gave him that self-help book on putting feelings into words. It had been a good book. Just the right height to steady the leg of a secondhand table from Cathy the chiropractor.r />
  There, he’d made a joke. That was more like it. He shut the water off and reached for a towel.

  A little glob of hair gel to give his unruly hair some semblance of order, a couple of minutes to blow it dry, a quick shave, a dab of the proper toiletries and he was ready for his jeans and sweater. Into his pants pocket went his money clip, rental car keys, a scrap of paper with Meg’s and Beth’s cell phone numbers and a little card with his favorite Scripture, “All things work together for good unto them that love the Lord.”

  Father God, You know I’m counting on that.

  From the moment Ry turned on the shower, Meg had been awake and wishing she weren’t. If she didn’t get her full eight hours of sleep, she was headachey, crabby and a sad reflection of the Lord.

  She listened to the shower and felt sorry for Ry. Since he was on New York time and had missed even more sleep, he ought to feel even more miserable than she did.

  She hoped he wasn’t regretting the trip. For her, it was the best New Year’s Eve ever. Being with Beth and Ry again had been like turning back the clock, only better, because now she knew how precious moments with loved ones really were.

  The shower wasn’t running anymore, but she heard the hum of an electric razor. It was easy to imagine Ry with that razor in hand. He would tilt one side of his head toward the mirror to shave the sharp plane of his angular jaw, then reverse the move for the other side of his face before pursing his upper lip to shave the mustache and…

  What was she doing, fantasizing about the way a guy shaved? That was just plain silly. There had to be better things to think about than that.

  Like Ry’s prayer last night. Undoubtedly, that was the highlight of the night. Ry had shown such spiritual maturity that she knew he must talk to God quite a lot. She’d been a Christian a couple of years longer, but she thought Ry might know the Lord better.

  Maybe it was because Ry had always been so alone. Even with herself and Beth to care about him, and even though he’d had more girlfriends than he wanted and plenty of guy friends, as well, Ry hadn’t been a person to let others know him inside.

  He wanted people to think it was all fun and games with him, but Meg knew better. As great as it was that he’d invited the Lord into his life, she wished he could find one woman to love. She didn’t like to think of Ry alone.