Blind Date Disasters & Eat Your Heart Out

“She loves you, man. And now…” The DJ let out a drum roll. “Take it away Cami.”

“And I want to marry you,” Cami said, coming close, sinking to her knees at his feet. “Because this is the forever kind of love. Will you be my husband?”

“Tanner, you lucky dog. Crank up the tunes, guys, because Tanner’s about to get some luuuuuuv.”

Music blared into the room. Cami smiled shakily.

Tanner shook his head, looking shell-shocked. “I thought you were going to dump me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I thought I was going to leave here with half my heart and none of my pride.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I had no idea…”

“Tanner, do you think you could answer the question?”

He looked up, baffled, and she had to laugh. “I asked you to marry me. You didn’t answer.”

Now he let out a slow grin. “Really? I didn’t answer you? Hmm. Maybe I should let you sleep on it, or rather not sleep, and then-”

“Tanner,” she begged, tugging him down so that they kneeled face to face. “You’re killing me.”

Softening, he stroked her jaw. “That makes us even, then.” He kissed her. “The answer is yes. Yes, I love you. Yes, I want to be with you forever. Yes, God, yes, I want to marry you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. But Cami? Do you think we can elope?”

Her eyes narrowed even as she laughed. “You’re afraid of my family.”

“Hell, yes.”

“Oh, Tanner, that’s so sweet.”

“Don’t say the word sex.”

Dimi put a finger on his lips, but Mitch was able to ask, “Why not?”

“Because when you say it, it does something funny to my knees.”

Mitch liked that. She was close, her mouth softly parted, her eyes slumberous. He liked that, too. “Kiss me, Dimi.”

“Uh.” She swallowed, hard. “That would be extremely unwise.”

“Think of all the fire it will give the show today,” he coaxed, but that was where he made his mistake. He knew it as soon as her eyes cooled and her mouth hardened.

“That’s right,” she said, pulling back from him. “The show. This is all for the show.” She gave him a tight smile. “Let’s just save it for the camera, then, shall we?”

Grabbing her purse off the counter, she walked away without another look at him, back to the serious, quiet, original Dimi-not a cooking sex kitten in sight.

“Note to self,” Mitch muttered. “Next time you get Dimi in your arms, don’t open your idiotic mouth.”

Eat Your Heart Out

*

1

“TWENTY-FIVE SECONDS until air time!”

Dimi ignored both that and the makeup woman powdering her face and concentrated on Suzie instead. “You think I haven’t tried hard enough?”

Suzie consulted her clipboard, snapped her fingers at two people standing idle, both of whom leapt to attention and ran off, and then sighed at Dimi. “Look, babe. The truth hurts.”

“But I have tried. I’ve tried everything!”

Suzie’s expression was pure doubt. “Have you placed a personal ad?”

“Twenty seconds!”

Dimi didn’t take her eyes off Suzie. “Only nutcases place personal ads. But I’ve tried everything else. Online dating services, in-person dating services, the grocery store, the zoo, everywhere. I’ve made dating a virtual spectator sport, and nothing.” It was frustrating, this failure. She hated to fail. Maybe it was her father’s seven divorces or her mother’s controlling nature. Or maybe it was the fact that everyone she knew had someone to go home to except her, and she didn’t know how to fix that.

Pathetic. “No Mr. Right anywhere.”

“Fifteen!”

Suzie shook her head. “I’ve seen you at happy hour.”

“So?”

“So you’re far more concerned with the appetizers than the beefcakes at the bar.”

Okay, she liked her food. A lot. “The beefcakes at the bar are only interested in one thing, anyway.” Dimi stopped talking to purse her lips so the makeup woman could apply lip gloss.

“And so are you, after only one thing.” Suzie adjusted the microphone on Dimi’s collar. “After all, we are talking about getting laid, right?”

Dimi nearly swallowed her tongue.

The makeup woman let out a laugh.

“Ten!”

“Not exactly laid,” Dimi muttered, avoiding some interested sidelong glances from her eavesdropping crew.

The truth was, she wanted more, much more, than any physical release.

Although, in retrospect, that would be nice, too. Embarrassing as it was to admit, especially for a single, relatively successful woman in the new millennium, Dimi wanted the minivan, the white picket fence, the two point four kids. She wanted to be held by warm, strong arms at night.

And yes, maybe she also wanted someone to take out the trash. So what? She wanted it all.

“If not sex, what then?” Suzie lifted a brow. “I know for a fact it’s been years for you.”

“Hey! Only two.”

“Years,” Suzie repeated, as if Dimi had committed a crime. “Honey, a body like yours was made for hot, down-and-dirty sex.”

Dimi tugged at her rather severe business suit, which had been the only thing to fit that morning without having to suck in her breath all day long. Not eating doughnuts for breakfast would help greatly, but that meant she needed to go grocery shopping, and that was worse than taking out the trash.

“Have you tried the Laundromat at about eight o’clock, any night of the week?”

Dimi blinked. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s a regular men buffet.”

“The Laundromat? It’s desperation city. No one goes there to pick up guys anymore.”

“Wanna bet?” Suzie leaned close, inspecting Dimi’s face. She tsked and pointed, and before Dimi could blink, she was getting her nose powdered. Again.

“And five, four…”

“I’m done trying,” Dimi announced.

“You’re far too serious.” Suzie’s eyes were kind but firm. “In both life and getting a man. Relax a little.”

“Maybe I’m too serious, I’ll give you that one, but I’m not changing my stance on this. No more losers. No more