Genie shrugged her shoulders in silent surrender. For now, at least, the subject of the advisability of “The Plan” would wait. Thank goodness. Her friend’s resistance was beginning to wear on Rachel’s nerves.
“We have to have some way of keeping these guys straight in our minds—so Vinnie’s the Italian Noodle,” Genie said. “I’ve given them all nicknames.”
“Fine. Good idea.” Rachel exhaled in relief, glad her friend was going along with her and letting the subject of single parenthood drop for the moment.
While Genie reviewed her form, Rachel took a gulp from her wineglass and swiped the screen for the next interview. “Here we go.”
“No, wait. I’m not ready...and I’m not sure I’ll ever be,” Genie ended, mumbling under her breath. She grabbed the wine bottle in front of her and topped off both glasses on the table.
Rachel waited patiently while Genie took a deep gulp of her drink and settled back against the couch cushions. “Roll ’em, Rache. I have to admit, this is a lot more fun than watching some Barbie flirt with half a dozen men—damn unfair, that.”
Rachel tapped the screen and moved her finger to the right, zipping to the start of the next interview. A hulking specimen of a man appeared on the monitor. She sat forward, her interest captured. He looked like an actor in an ad for exercise equipment, and he definitely looked...healthy.
Wearing a muscle shirt, he stood before the camera with his hands on his slim hips, displaying bulging biceps and broad muscular shoulders. His skin was a beautifully tanned golden brown and glowed with a slight sheen as though he had just applied a layer of tanning oil. His blond hair was cut close on the sides and was spiked on top. He stared out of the screen with a stunning pair of ice blue eyes—directly at them.
“Ooh-la-la!.” Genie let out a shrill wolf whistle. “Now, we’re talking.”
Then the gorgeous hunk opened his mouth...
Genie moaned, echoing Rachel’s sharp disappointment.
“Hi, I’m Marion Hohenberger.” The man’s voice was high, squeaky and totally incongruous with his appearance.
Genie squealed then hiccoughed. “He sounds like a mouse!”
“Who would have thought such a perfect body would be stuck with such a wimpy voice?” Rachel groaned.
“Maybe, too many steroids?”
“Yup, that’s my guess.” Rachel reached for her glass, sure that a little alcohol might improve her first impression of the muscled wonder.
Genie lifted her wineglass at the same time in salute. “Here’s to Mighty Mouse.”
“I used to be a little guy...,” Marion continued.
“Yeah, right,” snorted Genie.
“...until I found the Royal Academy Health Spa. I built this physique, and now own my own franchise with the spa.”
“Hmmm, I’ll have to keep him in mind,” Rachel said thoughtfully. “I have a client who sells weight equipment. Mighty Mouse here would look dynamite in my client’s ads.”
“But that voice.” Genie’s incredulous expression caused Rachel to smile.
“You’d be amazed at what they can do to sweeten a voice in a sound studio.”
The muscleman turned to the side and curled his forearm toward his shoulder. He posed like a Mr. Universe contestant, displaying his muscles to their best advantage. “Even though I’m thirty-eight, I have the body of a twenty-five-year-old.”
“And the brain of an eight-year-old.” Genie chortled.
“Genie,” Rachel swatted at her friend. “Give the guy a chance.”
“Really, Rache, intelligence goes a long way in this world. You should have stipulated intelligence to that agency.”
“You’re letting your prejudices run away with you again. He owns his own business; he has to have some smarts.”
“I’m an entrepreneur and personal trainer,” Marion droned on.
“Surprise, surprise,” Genie continued her running commentary.
“My hobby is body building. My expectations in a woman are simple: she should be in good shape, enjoy physical exercise, and she should be a vegetarian and non-smoker.”
The image faded to black as Marion’s video ended.
Sighing, Rachel handed Genie an evaluation form and automatically began filling hers out. “Well, I only fit his last requirement, non-smoker. I wonder why they even bothered forwarding his link to me.”
Genie glanced over at Rachel, who sat on the couch in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. Eyeing her as if she were a steer at a cattle auction, Genie began to list her attributes. “Oh, I don’t know. You keep yourself in pretty good shape. You have toned muscles, not weight-lifter size, but still, you’re firm. Your skin isn’t sagging anywhere that I can see, so you’re aging well for a thirty-year-old hag.”
Rachel picked up a pillow and tossed it at Genie. “Okay, okay, you can stop rubbing it in about my age. Just because you’re a twenty-nine-year-old baby, doesn’t mean you can pick on me. Remember, you’ll be thirty next year. If you don’t behave yourself, I’ll paste your birthday notice on every billboard in town.”
“I plan on being twenty-nine the rest of my life, so there.” Genie stuck out her tongue and threw the pillow back at Rachel.
“Just finish the form, while I play the next video.” Rachel swiped again, entered another name in her planner, then settled in with her glass of wine to watch the next candidate.
“How do you do? I’m Herbert Molter.”
Genie leaned forward, squinting at the monitor.
Curious about what had caught Genie’s attention, Rachel leaned closer to view the man in the center of the screen.
“Does there seem to be something funny about that man’s hair?” Genie asked.
Rachel froze the picture, and they both peered at the image on the screen to inspect his carefully groomed coif.
“He has hair plugs,” Genie crowed.
“Are you sure?” Rachel hated to admit it, but she could see the neat little rows of hair on the man’s scalp. It was as if he had a small orchard of miniature saplings sprouting from his head. But Rachel felt compelled to defend him—after all, going through a dating service to find her baby daddy had been all her idea. “He looks nice enough,” she said hesitantly.
“But could you imagine running your fingers through his hair?” Genie’s face screwed up, and she gave a delicate shudder. “Oo, I’d be afraid of uprooting them.”
“Don’t be so mean, Genie. Hair doesn’t matter, anyway.”
“I bet it does to him.”
Rachel set the video into motion and sat back on the couch staring at the screen dispiritedly. She could have done without Genie’s eagle-eye. Now that she was aware of the man’s unnatural hairline, it was all she could see. He could be the most handsome man on the planet for all she knew–-but that was lost to her now. Her gaze was glued instead to the dots of brown hair that sprung tightly from his too-perfect crown.
Genie slid another look at the man on the screen and grinned as she sat back, crossing her arms over her chest. “Rachel, you really are desperate, aren’t you?”
“Hush and watch.”
“I’m a utilities specialist,” Herbert said with a small smile. “I read the electric meters for the city.”