Mr. Accidental Hero: Jet City Matchmaker Series: Jeremy

by Gina Robinson

  "Barbarian," I teased. "Did you go to Comicon?"

  "Yeah. Sure. We go every year," he said. "My buddies and I have been into cosplay since college. We've been trying to win the amateur Jet City Comicon Cosplay Competition since, with no luck, unfortunately. Austin came close this year dressed as Jamie the Sinclair. We told him it wasn't a winning costume. Not enough Jamie fans at Comicon compared to other shows. But he was following Ashley's advice and determined. Good thing he listened to Ashley, because being Jamie attracted Blair and now they're married.

  "Ashley has the knack, a sixth sense, and knows her stuff. I trust her implicitly." He stared at me with the most flattering look in his eyes—part awe, part affection, part lust.

  "And you?" I said, basking in that look. "Who do you dress up as?"

  "Isn't it obvious?" He flexed. "One superhero or another, depending on my mood."

  "Naturally."

  "Do you cosplay?"

  "Not officially." I hated to disappoint him. I was surprised by how much I wanted to have everything in common with him. If not cosplaying was a deal breaker, I'd learn to love it. "But I like to dress up. I love Halloween and costume parties."

  He relaxed. "You like to dress up? That's a relief. We can always make a cosplayer out of a woman who loves a good costume. I couldn't date a woman who isn't open to cosplay."

  "I believe I've discovered your first deal breaker," I said. "Score one for me. Now it's a matter of flexibility and compromise—would you settle for a woman who doesn't like to cosplay herself, but is supportive of your desire to?"

  He was quiet a moment. "If she was great in most ways, yeah. You're smiling. Did I just pass a test?"

  "I like a man who's flexible and open to compromise. Who won't throw an otherwise wonderful relationship out because of one difference in taste or hobbies."

  "You think we have differences in essential tastes or hobbies?"

  "I think it's very likely. Everyone has differences. It's what makes life and relationships interesting."

  He offered me the cheese plate. "More cheese?"

  "Is that a bribe to shut me up about differences?"

  "Nah. It's a test to see if we have irreconcilable differences in our taste in cheese. If you're a gouda lover, we have a problem."

  I deliberately chose a wrapped baby gouda.

  With lightning-quick reflexes, he grabbed my hand and took the gouda gently from me. He unwrapped it, holding my gaze. Finally, he held it out to me, offering me a bite. "I was wrong. Bad taste in cheese apparently isn't all that important when you're with a beautiful, funny, intelligent woman."

  I took a generous bite, nipping dangerously close to his fingertips intentionally.

  He didn't flinch. "At least it wasn't smoked."

  That gouda completely broke the ice. We both laughed and broke into a heated discussion of the best local cheeses as the train pulled south out of the station, rolling past south Seattle toward Tacoma. I voted for Beecher's. Jeremy was a big Cougar Gold fan.

  I hadn't thought about it until we started moving, but Jeremy had considerately given me the forward-facing seat and booked us the east side of the train, giving us a view of Mount Rainier.

  A steward brought us our salads. We were so engrossed in our conversation that we barely noticed him.

  "Can I ask you something?" Jeremy set his salad fork down.

  I studied him. "That's an intense expression. It must be a question of great import."

  "Now that we've exhaustively debated the importance of extra sharpness in cheddar, it's my job on this date to keep the conversation moving and find out everything I can about you."

  "Given the importance of your task, and the seriousness with which you're approaching it, yes, I give you leave to ask me a question. But only one. Make it good."

  Despite my playful tone, his expression turned serious. "Why did you disappear from the scene of the accident that day? One minute you were beside me. The next, I turned around to get your number and you were gone. If not for Ashley and a drunk with burned hair, we wouldn't be here."

  I set my fork down. He deserved an honest answer. "I don't like publicity. It's not good for my business. People like me are observers, not limelighters. We work best when we sit back and take in what's going on around us."

  "You can't take the credit, shine one time, like at the accident?" He frowned. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but it was almost like you panicked when the news crew showed up. You aren't in the witness protection program or an undercover spy, too, are you? Living under an assumed identity? Hiding out from a psychotic stalker?"

  "You have a vivid imagination." I finished my salad and set my fork down. "The answer is no to all of those. I'm just me."

  "Then why?"

  "You don't give up easily." I wasn't sure I wanted to answer. How much did I trust him this early on?

  He stared at me.

  I sighed. "All right. But this is just between you and me?"

  He nodded.

  "I was working. I'd just come from a client meeting."

  He waited for me to go on.

  "I hate to come across as arrogant," I said, "but I'm good at what I do. I'm in demand. In my area of expertise, I'm well known."

  "You don't need to be humble. There's no shame in admitting to your talents," he said.

  I liked him. I really did. "Thank you. The client, who's paying me an exorbitant sum, is in a highly competitive field and working on a new business model that's top secret. I'm under a strict nondisclosure agreement for them, so tight that they don't even want it known I'm working with them. Corporate espionage is a real thing in their biz. If word gets out I'm consulting for them, well, it puts them under scrutiny and arouses suspicion they're not in the mood for."

  "Ah," he said. "There aren't that many businesses in that area of town that would be hiring someone like you, is that it?"

  He was bright and quick. I liked that.

  "Exactly." I nodded. "I couldn't take any chances of being seen on TV. So I ran." I smiled. "And, by the way, should you have any guesses about who my client is, which I'm sure you do, judging from how well you appear to know the area, please keep them to yourself."

  "Cross my heart." He made the motion. "My friends and I are in the corporate security business after a fashion, too. I understand the need for secrecy and discretion."

  The steward came in, preventing either of us from saying more. He collected our salad plates and served our main course—gourmet pizzas.

  I looked at the pizzas, then Jeremy. "I hope these are made with Beecher's cheese."

  He looked surprised.

  "What?"

  He laughed. "I can't vouch for what cheese the chef used. Only that he uses the finest ingredients. I thought you were going to give me grief for pizza and beer. Especially after our inauspicious first coffee date. When I told Ashley I was taking you out for beer and pizza, she came out of her chair. I can only plead limited dining options aboard the train."

  I spontaneously reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "Who doesn't like pizza?"

  "It's a safe bet, right?"

  I looked him deeply in the eyes. "Pizza is one of my favorite foods in the whole world."

  "Score one for me." He returned the hand squeeze.

  Our gazes held. Something deep passed between us, an understanding. A spark. A bit of electricity. A glimpse of a future together. I only knew that I had never felt as close to a guy before, especially after such a short time.

  I saw he felt it, too. He cleared his throat and dropped my hand. "Pizza?"

  We both reached for the same slice of pizza at the same time.

  He backed off and gestured toward it. "Please. It's yours."

  "Another thing we have in common," I said as I took it. "We were both eyeing the same slice with plenty of meat." I waited for him to grab a slice.

  He paused with the pizza slice held in front of him. "So you can't go anywhere without arousing corporate suspicions?"


  "I have to be careful, that's all. Especially during business hours and in business districts."

  "You can't talk about your current projects. I can't talk about mine. This is going to be lively conversation," he said. "Looks like either we're going to have to sit around and stare at each other, or come up with another scintillating topic."

  "Yeah," I said. "I guess so."

  He set his pizza on his plate. "Seriously—is being too high-profile one of your deal breakers?" He wasn't good with a poker face. The worry was clear in his expression, and completely heart-melting.

  "Not for the right guy." I grinned and lifted my slice of pizza, licking a string of dripping cheese and wrapping it around my tongue. "I can talk about my work, some of my work, after I'm off the project and the knowledge becomes public. Some of my projects are even on my résumé. I have to put something out to attract new clients. And I can always talk methodology."

  "All right, talk."

  I slid my foot right up next to his beneath the table, pressing it against his, just to see his reaction. To his credit, this time his expression gave nothing away. But he didn't move his foot, either. "Methodology or actual cases?"

  "Talk method and throw some case studies in. How does a unicorn hunter spot her prey?"

  "Prey!" I laughed. "Trends aren't exactly prey. It's a lot of data and statistics. Demographic info. And gut instinct."

  "Sounds a lot like internet security. Talk statistics and data to me. I love that shit. It's sexy."

  "You are an odd man." I rubbed his foot with mine. "But one after my own heart." I started talking.

  He listened raptly, completely silent for a good few minutes, and then dove in, interjecting great insights. He knew his statistics and data theory. He asked intelligent questions. I fell more and more in love with him. Do you have any idea how rare a man like him was?

  Maybe I had found what I was looking for—my very own unicorn. Every word he spoke, every question he asked, convinced me more. Yes, I was falling hard.

  11

  Jeremy

  Crystal was as fascinating a woman as I had ever met, and I'd been on a good many dates this past year. She knew her math, her data analysis, her statistics, how to run focus groups, how to write surveys, and was passionate about all of it. She knew human nature, was a keen observer, and beneath that new hair color and cut was the most completely beautiful woman, outside and in. Intelligent women turned me on. She turned me on.

  She looked different tonight than she had at coffee—softer, more natural. Her eyes were brighter and bigger, her hair straight and so tempting, her lips glossy. I wanted to reach out and run my fingers through that hair. She had a cute habit of brushing it out of her face. I wanted to be the one to do it. I wanted her.

  Every minute I was with her, I fell more deeply for her. I was digging myself deeper and deeper in love. My first impression of her hadn't failed me. I was deeper than Ashley gave me credit for—I could see past hair color. Personality, a sense of humor, and intelligence—if a woman has all of those, how can she be unattractive? Pair all of those with Crystal's natural physical beauty and how could any guy fail to be lost when she smiled at him?

  The steward cleared our dishes away and left.

  "Can I interest you in a stroll in the sightseer car?" I offered Crystal my hand.

  "Delighted." She took my hand.

  I was in heaven. I led her out of our roomette and along the corridor to the sightseer lounge car. It was already twilight. The planets were beginning to twinkle outside, heralding the stars to come. I had another astronomical-type surprise for Crystal later, on the way home.

  The sightseer car had tall windows that reached upward to a second section of windows that curved partway up the ceiling. It made for a slightly more spectacular view than our compartment had, but the main advantage was simply being able to stretch our legs and walk hand in hand.

  We were in central Washington, past Olympia, the state capital, and into more rural countryside. Little along the I-5 corridor was completely rural. Which meant fewer lights and more darkness. We paused at one of the windows to watch the dark scenery speed by.

  "I didn't think this through," I said, joking. "The scenery would have been more spectacular in the daylight."

  She looked up at me. "I don't know. It's pretty nice from where I stand."

  I grinned. Her lips looked so damned kissable. Were we rushing things? Was I letting myself fall too hard too fast? Who could say? But it didn't feel that way to me, not in this moment. The night was already zipping by. If only time would travel slower. If only the train would travel faster. Time stands still at the speed of light. If only time would stop and let me have this moment with Crystal for a little longer. The way I felt right now, forever wouldn't be long enough.

  Maybe it was a foolish thing to do. Maybe I shouldn't have been so eager. But I couldn't help myself. I slid my hand beneath her hair around the back of her head and leaned down to kiss her. She closed her eyes. Her lips were inches from mine. I remembered the accident scene, the heady feel of my lips on her.

  I reined myself in, kissing her softly, tenderly. Then harder and more insistent. I couldn't hold myself back. I wanted her to feel the bad boy in me that wanted her without reason. I wanted her to know the sensitive guy I was, too. I wanted her to see all of me and want me as badly as I wanted her.

  I closed my eyes, holding her tightly against me. My lips caressed hers. As I increased the pressure, she opened her mouth to me. The train suddenly lurched and braked.

  Momentum carried us forward. Our teeth banged together.

  Yeah, very suave, Jeremy. I hadn't botched a kiss this badly since the first time I kissed a girl. Crystal yelped, a squeak that couldn't mean anything good. My eyes flew open.

  The train continued lurching as if the engineer was pumping the brakes. We lost our balance. I wrapped one arm around Crystal's waist and caught the wall support between windows with the other, arresting our fall and bracing us as the train lurched again and continued on its way.

  As I pulled away, my lip was wet and sticky. I tasted iron, the telltale taste of blood. My lip pulsed with my heartbeat. I touched Crystal's lip. "You're bleeding." Worse than I had to be. I touched her cheek. "I'm sorry."

  "Sorry?" Her eyes were bright. "Why are you sorry? Don't be. You saved me from falling on my butt." She pulled a tissue from her pocket and gently dabbed my lip with it.

  I touched her cheek. "You're bleeding, too."

  "Am I? On the outside, too? I thought I'd just cut the inside of my mouth." She licked her lip. "I guess I am. Thanks for pointing that out. Now it's going to smart."

  "Smartass." I took her hand that held the tissue and tore a piece off so I could dab at her lip. I hated to tell her, but her lip was already beginning to swell. Great. I'd given my date a fat lip.

  "Help. Help." The voice was frail and old, soft and barely audible. Clearly in distress. And coming up from the floor near my feet.

  I'd been so into Crystal, so worried about her, and so wrapped up in the moment, I hadn't heard the commotion around me. Hadn't been concerned about anyone else. Hadn't even thought to be.

  I let go of Crystal. An elderly woman was collapsed at our feet in the aisle. Crystal and I bent to help her at the same time, nearly knocking heads. It appeared I was bound and determined to hurt the date I'd sworn to entertain and protect.

  Crystal kneeled beside the woman first. "Are you hurt? It looks like you hit your head. Does it hurt anywhere else?"

  A bump was rising on the woman's forehead. She was disoriented. All around us, passengers were wrapped up in themselves and their companions. No one besides us paid the woman any attention.

  "Ice," I said. "We need to ice that bump on your head. Do you hurt anywhere else? Can we help you to your feet?"

  The woman murmured almost unintelligibly. I had to lean in to hear what she was saying.

  Crystal translated for me. "She says she's fine. She's shaken up, is all." Crysta
l asked the woman several questions and ran her hand over her wrists and arms. "Nothing is obviously broken. We need to get her out of the aisle."

  The woman was weak and unable to push up on her own. I picked her up and carried her to an open seat, helping her to put her feet up and settling as many travel pillows as I could find around her.

  An announcement came on over the speaker system apologizing for the sudden lurching. There had been something on the tracks that shouldn't have been there. I didn't want to know what it was. My guess was that we hit an animal. If it had been human, we would have stopped. If it had been metal, we would have seen debris. More than that, I didn't want to speculate.

  Someone had left a glass of ice behind, the remnants of a glass of pop. It sat in a cup holder, stuffed in with a napkin. I grabbed it, dumped the ice into the napkin, making an icepack of sorts, and pressed it gently against the bump on her head.

  Crystal was sitting next to the woman, doing a rough triage, asking the woman more questions about what things hurt and where, speaking in a calm, soothing voice. She looked at me as I bent over them. "Her eyes are dilated. She should see a doctor."

  "I'm on it." I handed the napkin to Crystal and went off in search of a porter, the conductor, a medic, a doctor, anyone who could help.

  Fortunately, I ran into the onboard medic in the next car. He followed me back to Crystal and the woman. We waited while he checked her over, then helped him get her to sickbay, or whatever you call the medic station on a train.

  "That was exciting," Crystal said as we walked back to our roomette after.

  "Yeah." I was troubled as I let us into the roomette and closed the door behind us.