Starting Now (Blossom Street #9)(62)

Looking a bit chagrined, she nodded.

Libby was on a mission now. She had the feeling this was going to work out nicely for Robin, very nicely indeed. If only one of them could find love, she wanted it to be Robin, especially after what Libby had done to mess things up for her friend.

Robin retrieved her purse, which she’d left by the front door, and brought out her cell. “I have his information listed under my contacts.”

“That’s positive thinking,” Libby said, and gave her a thumbs-up.

“Wishful thinking, you mean.” After pressing the button on her cell, Robin immediately disconnected the line. “I can’t.”

“Robin,” Libby pleaded, gesturing with her hands. “You can and you will or I’ll call him myself.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Don’t test me, Robin Hamlin,” she threatened.

Swallowing tightly, Robin tried again, this time turning her back on Libby as she waited for the line to connect. “Oh, hi,” Robin said. “This is Robin … Oh, you recognized my voice … Of course, we do talk now and again. Fine, fine, thank you for asking. And you?”

Libby could only hear one half of the conversation but she found even that half highly amusing. Robin barely sounded like herself. Clearly she was tense and nervous and out of her element.

Her friend walked to the far side of the condo and looked out the picture window. She seemed to think that if Libby couldn’t see her face, she couldn’t hear her, either.

“I wanted to thank you,” Robin continued. “Oh, please, it would be my pleasure … No, I insist … Unless of course you’d rather I … Okay, sure. I was thinking about a bottle of wine. I could have it delivered.”

Libby tossed her arms in the air. The point was for her to take the wine to him herself. Apparently Robin needed even more coaching in relationships than she did. Libby hadn’t realized how much she’d learned over the past few weeks.

“Yes, how thoughtful. Yes, I’d enjoy that. Okay, where would you like to meet? Yes, I know where that is.” She glanced down at her watch. “See you then.” She ended the call and then very calmly turned around. “He suggested we meet for drinks.”

“When?”

“Tonight … at nine-forty-five at this bar close to the courthouse. I’ve never been there but I know about it.”

Libby regarded her friend. “Aren’t you excited?”

“I’m terrified.”

“Robin, just be yourself. Now go home and change clothes and then call me first thing in the morning.”

She’d assumed her friend would want to dash home and dress up in something sleek and gorgeous. Instead Robin remained rooted in the middle of the room, looking lost and confused. “I … I don’t know that I can do this.”

“Robin, do you want to get to know Roy or not?”

Her friend sighed and covered her face with both hands. “Libby,” she whispered. “I’m terrified. I really like this man. I mean really, really like him, and I don’t want to blow it and I’m so afraid I will.”

“But Robin …”

“Come with me.”

Libby shook her head. “You’ve got to be kidding. Bringing me along isn’t going to help your chances with him. If you show up with a friend in tow that will only confuse him!”

“No, I mean it. I need you with me.”

“Sorry.” Robin had to do this alone. “Besides, does he really want to meet the person who screwed up the job interview he arranged?”

Robin’s mouth thinned. “I don’t think he’ll make the connection,” she said, “and you owe me big-time.”

“Oh, all right,” Libby muttered, “but I need to change clothes.”

“Hurry, we don’t have all night.”

“Okay, okay.”

The next thirty minutes passed in a blur. Libby changed into slacks and a light sweater and then they rushed to Robin’s apartment, where she went through three-quarters of her closet before she decided on a peach-colored outfit that suited her beautifully.

“It’s the first time I’ve worn it,” she confessed on their way out the door. “My mother gave it to me for Christmas one year and I tossed it in the closet. It was Mom’s way of telling me to get a life.”

“Look at you now,” Libby teased. “You have a life. I have a life.” A semi-life, anyway. They were out on the town. Robin had a date, although she was determined to pay for the wine and was so nervous she needed Libby there to hold her hand. Baby steps. That’s what this was. Baby steps.

They arrived a few minutes after the agreed-upon time and poor Robin was nearly in a panic. Judge Bollinger already had a table. He stood as they approached, otherwise Libby wouldn’t have known who he was.

A high school football hero? That was the way Robin viewed the judge? He was short, a little pudgy, and balding. Beauty was definitely in the eyes of the beholder, she decided.

“This is my friend …” Robin said, offering an introduction. “I hope you don’t mind that she joined me.”

“Libby Morgan,” Libby supplied and extended her hand.

He shook it, seeming unperturbed. “The more the merrier. Ladies, please sit.”