Cupid had purchased The Financial Times and the international edition of The Wall Street Journal in a bid to educate himself on current economic affairs. He was disgusted with himself that he’d deceived Amelia about his profession, though the misrepresentation had not been intentional. He’d just been so thrown when she’d asked about his occupation. Now he’d have to go through with the ruse; he only hoped he would be able to learn enough to pull it off. No matter how hard he tried to rationalize his actions, handling his mother’s affairs for thousands of years had not made him a financial analyst.
But there was nothing he could do now. He would have to continue to play the role of money man, at least until Amelia got to know him better, since she’d been so angry with his other answers, which she’d thought had been deceitful. It was ironic, Cupid thought as the barber splashed cool, rose scented water across his cheeks, that those answers had been truthful.
He closed his eyes and thought about Amelia’s face. He wondered what she would wear, and how she would smell. Perhaps like the fragrant air of her storefront? Cupid inhaled as the barber rubbed lavender oil over his flawless skin. He smiled at the thought that perhaps Amelia would run her dainty fingers along his face before the evening was over.
Chapter Ten
“Good evening and welcome.”
The restaurateur in the cobalt Nehru jacket bowed slightly and smiled as he held the door open for Amelia. He reminded her of one of those travel brochures that promised sapphire seas, serenity and silken saris on the sub-continent; somewhere she hoped to eventually visit. Amelia shivered with pleasure as she stepped into the lush dining room, where fuchsia and burnt orange orchids stood in tall crystal vases. The air smelled of saffron and incense.
“Do you have a reservation?”
Amelia nodded. The man smiled again and quickly surveyed the tables, many of which held Hollywood starlets, their managers and members of the press gathering material from “anonymous sources,” such as the wait staff and bartender, as well as the actors themselves. It was a convivial atmosphere, a small little world unto itself, hidden just out of sight from those who did not know where to look. Men and women wearing edgy outfits that would appear on next season’s runways tablehopped and shared baskets of naan, the Indian bread Amelia adored. Against the wall a sleek bar backlit in neon colors held dozens of bottles of Bombay Gin as well as the latest Russian vodkas.
“Do you see your party?”
“No.”
“Would you…”
Amelia felt a rush of warm air as the door opened behind her. She turned around. It was Colin and he looked … god-like was the only way she could describe him. He was wearing a beautifully cut, button-down shirt that looked as if it had been dyed to match his eyes, which were a darker blue than she remembered. But maybe that was due to the contrast with his jacket, which was the color of a blueberry and must have been custom made given the way it draped across his shoulders. It reminded Amelia of all those perfect bodies down at Muscle Beach. His blond hair looked like the sun itself had decided to kiss its ends, and his face … Amelia had never seen a shave so smooth. He would have been too pretty except for the slight chip in his left front tooth, which Amelia noticed as he grinned at her.
“Hope I’m not late.” Colin said, as he turned his wide gaze to the restaurateur, who seemed to be as awestruck by his beauty as Amelia had been. “I believe we have a reservation.”
“Yes, sir.” The man smiled. “Please, follow me.”
Colin held out his arm and motioned for Amelia to walk in front of him. He didn’t seem to notice the stunning cover girls, career socialites or award winning actresses (and a few actors) who stared at him as he passed, their pouting plump lips parted as he followed Amelia. She had swept up her wild, auburn hair behind her with a large, amber clip that was the same color as the dress that hugged her sleek hips.
“Will this table be all right?”
Amelia’s eyes widened. She’d been to enough upscale eateries to realize they were being offered the best seats in the house. The restaurateur was practically drooling as he waited for Colin’s reaction. Clearly, she had been mistaken when she’d concluded that perhaps something about his financial status was the ‘secret’ she believed he was withholding.
Colin smiled.
“Thank you, this will be perfect.”
The man bowed.
“My pleasure. Please enjoy your evening.”
As Colin reached out to hold Amelia’s chair for her, she caught the woodsy smell of his cologne.
“So what are we drinking? I’m guessing,” he said, cocking his head toward the bar, “something with Bombay Gin.”
Amelia laughed. She had to admit he was appealing. And she wasn’t the only one who thought so. She couldn’t help but notice the number of women who were staring at their table; it reminded her of the volume of e-mails she’d received from women claiming to have seen him sitting in her window. At first, she’d doubted that there could have been that many people passing by, but now she saw: this man was magnetic. She was irritated with herself when she felt a flash of annoyance. After all it wasn’t Colin’s fault he was so attractive.
“Gin sounds great.”
Colin nodded and a member of the bar staff appeared from out of nowhere to take their drink order.
“I wanted to talk to you about becoming a client of mine,” Amelia said, but Colin held up his toned hand.
Amelia groaned as she saw that even his fingers were perfect. He could have been a hand model.
“First we eat, if that’s all right with you. Where I come from we don’t interfere with the pleasure of a meal by talking business.”
Amelia frowned.
“But that’s the reason we’re getting together. To talk business.”
“Right,” Colin responded smoothly. “And we’ll do that after the meal, if that’s all right with you.”
Amelia found herself surprisingly pleased to have a dining companion other than Petal. She exhaled happily as the waiter delivered their drinks and told them the evening specials. Colin opened his menu. Amelia watched as he studied the menu. He closed his menu and looked up.
“What are you going to have?”
“I...I haven’t decided.” Amelia replied as she studied her menu.
“Do you have any suggestions?”
“I was in India last…year. If you want I can order for both of us, a combination of the best dishes I had on my trip. Do you like spicy food?”
“Love it.”
The restaurateur appeared, pad in hand. Colin ordered several dishes.
“You prefer the more traditional cuisine of my great-grandparents’ time,” he chuckled, and Colin smiled. “Excellent to see someone appreciate tradition.”
As Colin spoke with the man, Amelia became slightly annoyed at the number of women who seemed to be passing their table ostensibly on the way to the restroom, though the ladies lounge was on the other side of the floor. She sighed as she thought about how perfect Colin would be for Randi. Randi liked nothing more than being the center of envy and attention, which she would be with Colin on her arm.
“So tell me about yourself,” Colin said as he offered Amelia one of the samosas the kitchen had sent out as an appetizer. “Are you a native Californian?”
Amelia nodded.
“I’ve spent my whole life in L.A. County. My dad, he’s a scientist, grew up near Santa Cruz. My mom is from Orange. She’s an actress.”
“That must’ve been fun when you were a kid. Boxes of costumes, visiting your mother on the set.”
“You’d think so, Colin.” Amelia took a sip of her drink. “But in reality,” she continued, “ It was an absolute nightmare. We could never go on vacation because my mother couldn’t risk being out of town and missing an audition. We could never have potato chips or ice cream or junk food in the house in case it would tempt her, and she didn’t let me visit her on-set because she said it took the focus off of her as an actress if people th
ought of her as someone’s mother. And of course, she refused to have any more children, in case it ruined her figure.”
Amelia exhaled. When she looked over at Colin, she saw his expression of shock. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so bitter. What about you–you must not be from around here if you grew up where people actually valued mealtime as a sacrosanct experience.”
“Italy. I grew up in Rome.”
“Really? I’ve always wanted to go there. Puttanesca, calamari, straticelli….”
Colin laughed. “I see you know our foods. Maybe some time I can cook a few for you.”
Amelia shook herself. She’d been distracted by the feel of her foot brushing, momentarily, against his leg beneath the table. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”
“Er, it wasn’t important. So I guess you cook a lot, to make up for the days when your family went in for low fat this and fat free that?”
Amelia laughed then said, “Well, no, not exactly. It’s just me and my dog, so I don’t make meals too often.”
“I could teach you to cook, show you how to cut the recipe sizes down.”
“You cook?”
Colin smiled. Amelia noticed the gap again, that crooked tooth that made him so endearing since it was the only thing about him that wasn’t perfect. He spread his hands.
“Not a lot, but hey, I’m Italian. It’s in the blood that we all cook.”
Colin sat back and flashed that grin again. Amelia wondered what it would be like to rub her tongue along the craggy edge of his chipped tooth. She felt her cheeks redden at the thought. She shifted slightly and looked at her plate.
“The food, it’s so spicy it’s making me flush,” she said as she guzzled her water.
“I’m sorry. Want me to have them tone down the next course?”
Amelia shook her head and grinned.
“No way – that’s what we’re here for, some spice.”
Colin smiled. Amelia felt like punching herself. She never made such banal flirtatious remarks. There was just something about this man.
“So you cook. But that’s not your job. Tell me about your typical day.”
“I’m…I give advice to businesses about how they can operate more efficiently.”
“Really?” Amelia leaned forward. “That’s interesting. I’m always thinking, well you know I don’t come from a family of business owners. And Jennie, she’s my best friend. She has an even sparser knowledge of the pragmatic side of keeping a business going and growing. So I’m always kind of shooting in the dark, reading every business article I can get my hands on. But it’s not like I’m a member of a group of professional matchmakers.”
Amelia chuckled. “I’m always just making it up as I go along, hoping to get it right, which is kind of against my personality since I’m a planner at heart.”
“Maybe I can help you,” Colin said, leaning forward. “I’ve got a lot of ideas about how to grow a business.”
As he reached for the naan, Amelia stuck her hand into the braided black and gold breadbasket. Their fingers touched. His hand felt as warm as it had the day they’d met. He smiled and let his fingertips linger.
“I don’t need any more naan,” Amelia said, snatching her hand back and looking at her plate.
She hoped Colin didn’t notice how flushed her face had become.
“What got you into the matchmaking business?” Colin asked as he popped a corner of naan into his mouth.
Amelia took a sip of water and refolded her napkin in her lap.
“While I was studying computer programming, I noticed that everyone I knew was making these terrible matches for themselves. You know what I mean, people who wanted to marry always seemed to get together with someone who didn’t even want a serious relationship, and my friends who wanted kids were pairing up with people who couldn’t even stand the commitment a fish requires.”
Colin laughed and Amelia smiled.
“One year I went to twelve weddings. Guess how many of those couples are still together.”
“Ten?”
“Try five.”
“Really?” Colin said, with a slight strangle in his voice.
“Colin? Are you all right?”
Colin started. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. So that’s why you went into the matchmaking business?”
Amelia popped the cherry from her cocktail into her mouth, letting its sweet liquid coat her tongue before she chewed its squishy skin into tiny bits.
“Well, mainly I got into matchmaking because of Venus.”
Colin’s eyes widened.
“I’m just kidding! We all know there’s no such thing as those Roman gods and goddesses. The notion of some woman in flowing robes matching up soul mates is about as ridiculous as Santa Claus. But when I was younger I actually believed Venus had matched my parents. My dad used to say he was so in love with my mother, despite the way she treated him, because he’d been struck by Cupid’s arrow. Can you imagine, thinking there’s some guy, some incredible looking man according to all those paintings and poems, running around the world shooting arrows into an unsuspecting public. My God, if he did actually exist, he’d have to be a real idiot.”
“Why do you say that?”
Amelia scoffed. “Because he’d be dumb enough to agree to match up a good man like my dad with a serial philanderer like my mother.”
Colin sat back. He picked up his water glass and began to chew a piece of ice.
“Anyway, I became a matchmaker because I just knew I could do better than what I was seeing. I worked at a psychologist’s office while I was in graduate school, and I read all of her journals about the nature of human behavior. I realized that I could develop a program that could take the guesswork out of matchmaking and pair people up with their ideal mates.”
“So you find their soul mates as they say out here.”
“Hardly. I just tell them who they should be with," Amelia replied. “I don’t believe in soul mates.”
“But then why is it ‘Happily Ever After’?”
Amelia smiled.
“Well I don’t think I could generate much business with a name like ‘Computer Matched by Amelia’, do you?”
Colin laughed.
“Let’s get dessert.”
He signaled the waiter, who cleared their plates and set the table for dessert.
“So,” Amelia said, “Now that you know all my secrets, I hope I haven’t dissuaded you from becoming a client. I’ve got the perfect match for you.”
Colin grinned.
The waiter set a cut glass tray featuring several desserts between them. Colin cut them all in half, serving Amelia and then himself. Amelia smiled as she watched him eat. He really was alluring. He’d be the perfect match for Randi. She raised her wineglass.
“To finding you the perfect match.”
Colin raised his glass.
“To the perfect match,” he replied.
“All right then. I’ll look forward to speaking with you sometime tomorrow so I can give you her number.”
“Right.” Colin grinned. “Her number.”
Amelia felt surprisingly sad as the evening drew to an end. With a start, she realized how hard it was going to be to surrender Colin Cumin to Randi. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so entertained.
Colin’s knowledge of art and history, which they’d discussed over the chicken vendula course, was extraordinary. Listening to him talk she imagined what it would be like to go out on a date with him. She even fantasized about sitting next to him at Dodger stadium, eating hot dogs together and doing the wave with all of the other fans. And of course, there was the matter of their physical attraction to each other, which she was certain he’d felt as well.
But none of that mattered. Amelia bit her tongue to keep from crying as Colin retrieved her car from the valet for her and brushed her cheek softly while he thanked her for spending the evening with him. By this time tomorrow, Colin would belong to Amelia’s most reviled client.
/> Chapter Eleven
Inuus stood in a dark corner of the underworld chamber where the Roman gods met to discuss their most serious affairs. Although he wasn’t certain why the gods were meeting, he suspected it had something to do with the sterile spring that had befallen the mortal world.
“We’ve got no choice, Vesta. If she’s lost her powers and we don’t do anything about it a lot of us will be rendered impotent as well,” Minerva whispered.
Vesta looked around the long table where dozens of Roman gods and goddesses sat behind large crystal goblets and garnet etched plates, between the tall vases of cherry blossoms that always decorated their spring banquet table.
Matching Wits with Venus Page 8
