Kissing Mr. Right by Michelle Major Page A

on the coffee table.
    Kendall took a fortifying drink of wine. “I can’t believe it,” she breathed.
    “The ads only started running two days ago,” Chloe said. “You have a ton of possibilities here.”
    “Want to take a couple for yourself?” Chloe hadn’t been on one date since they’d become friends. Kendall knew Chloe’s first marriage had ended badly but believed her sweet friend deserved a second chance at finding love.
    Chloe shook her head. “My cat provides all the companionship I need.”
    Before Kendall could respond, Sam snatched several sheets from the top of the stack. “Don’t think of foisting any of these potential swains on me either. But they like you, Ken. They really like you. I’ve got a lawyer, a doctor, and a mortgage broker here.” She flipped through a few more of the applications. “Ha. This one says he’d be a good fit because his favorite color is blue and you wear blue suits on the news a lot.”
    “I do?”
    Chloe rifled through another stack of papers. “This guy is six four and a banker.” She pushed a photo across the table toward Kendall. “He looks like your type—buttoned up but still cute.”
    Gingerly, Kendall picked up the picture. The man smiling back at her in an elegant suit looked exactly like the sort of guy she would normally be attracted to: handsome, professional, and sophisticated.
    She couldn’t muster one speck of interest.
    She told herself it was because of the bizarre situation. Men applying to date her on camera should be what accounted for her indifference toward any of the potential candidates. She would have sworn on a mile-high stack of Bibles that it was not her increasing attraction to a certain gorgeous landscaper with golden skin and work-roughened hands that made her wish she could back out of the dating show. But she knew it was a lie.
    Sam and Chloe stayed for another few hours, creating details about the applicants that became more salacious as they neared the bottom of the pile. The raunchy banter put the situation into perspective. At least to a point.
    “Yuck. I can’t believe you think someone would name his dingle Tex,” she complained to Sam after a particularly graphic analysis of one candidate. “How am I going to keep a straight face if I end up going to dinner with that guy?”
    “I can’t believe you can say the word dingle with a straight face,” Sam shot back. “What is this, third grade? Besides, if the producers set you up with a guy who poses next to his pick-up truck, sporting leather chaps, his beer gut, and a smile, you’re going to need to laugh your way through the date just to keep your sanity.”
    Kendall glanced at the glossy photo and grimaced. “They wouldn’t, would they?”
    Chloe patted her hand. “There are a number of nice men who are interested in being part of the show. You filled out a similar questionnaire and the people at the station know you. I’m sure it will be fine.”
    “Just to be on the safe side . . .” Sam said, folding the picture of the overweight cowboy and placing it, along with the corresponding application, in the empty chip bag.
    “Thanks,” Kendall said.
    Sam winked. “My pleasure.”
    Chloe stood, picking up the crumpled bag and empty wine bottle. “I should get going. I have a clown and a face painter scheduled in the store tomorrow so there’s bound to be a crowd.”
    “Do you need help?” Kendall offered. Every so often, she got to pitch in at the toy store Chloe owned.
    “Thanks, but I’ll have reinforcements,” Chloe said over her shoulder as she walked toward the kitchen to throw out the night’s trash.
    When she disappeared, Sam leaned forward. “Ken, about Greg. Don’t blame Chloe for anything. She wanted to tell you, but I made her promise.”
    Kendall squeezed Sam’s long fingers. “You need to tell me if you get a bad feeling about someone I’m seeing. I trust you.” She tightened her grip until Sam winced slightly. “But lay off with