I pursed my lips and slowly shook my head. “Not an escort. Guess again.”
“That’s all I got. You’ve stumped me.”
“And you didn’t Google me. I’m shocked.”
“Why? Are you Googleable? Should I do that now?” He pulled his cell out of his pants pocket, and I reached across the table to cover the screen.
“No need. I’m boring. Honest.”
“All right,” he said, tucking the phone away. “Spill your guts.”
I took a deep breath, suddenly nervous. What if he thinks what I do is silly or stupid or too superficial? Luckily, the smart side of my brain took over, and it slapped the stupid thought back into the nether regions of my head.
“I work for a company called Hook, Line & Sinker.” When he didn’t say anything, I continued. “Basically, we, um. We’re a matchmaking company. But not for casual hookups or anything; it’s for people who are serious about finding a life partner. God, that sounds old, doesn’t it, life partner. I suppose life and death partner is a bit morbid, but if you were looking for a life partner, I mean, wouldn’t it make sense you’d want a life and death partner?” When I took in a breath, the way he was watching me so intently made me squirm. “Uh…anyway, I meet with potential clients and then I…pair them up. That’s the short version, really.”
He stared at me for a long time, and I fidgeted with my thumb ring under his gaze. Why is he looking at me like that? Is he utterly repulsed? Or worse, does he want to be a client?
“You’re a matchmaker…”
I nodded.
“How the hell did you get into that?”
I told him the story about how I’d run into Val at a wedding reception of a mutual friend, and after setting her up with her fourth husband, she’d swept me off my feet, in a sense, with promises of a big, important title, lots of glamorous parties, and lucrative pay. Not that the job had ever amounted to any of that. Then I explained about the columns I wrote, the couples I’d personally paired. And he sat there, taking it all in, seeming to absorb every word.
When I was done, he grinned. “I never would’ve guessed that, not in a million years. It’s interesting, though…”
“What is?”
“So far you haven’t struck me as a starry-eyed, hearts and flowers kind of girl.” He leaned forward. “You’re a little combative when you meet someone, if you haven’t noticed.”
“I’m not combative with everyone.”
“Just me, then?”
I thought back on recent first meetings outside of work and then shrugged. “Huh. I guess so.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“That you incur my wrath? You’re twisted.”
“Mhmm.” He took another bite of his pancakes and then asked, “So do you set up all your friends? The ones you were with last weekend looked pretty single to me.”
“Actually, I’m not allowed to help them. I had to pinky-swear I wouldn’t do it unless they asked or they’d revoke my green card.”
He started to laugh with his mouth full and ended up coughing. “Fair enough. So is this what you always wanted to do?”
“I didn’t grow up thinking this would be a career or anything, no. At first I thought I’d be a mermaid, but then I realized I would have to hold my breath for longer than thirty seconds underwater, so that was out. Then I saw Jurassic Park and wanted to be a paleontologist, but digging up bones didn’t seem like so much fun. Not that being dropped off on an island with velociraptors trying to kill you was up my alley either, but desert life is not for me. Um, what else? Oh, I was obsessed with watching figure skating and made my mum take me to an ice rink so I could practice triple axles, but then I ended up spraining my ankle about twenty minutes in.” I paused to take a sip of my orange juice. “And then one day in high school my best friend Jennifer had her heart stomped all over by this jerk-off Dave, so I convinced my neighbor Frankie to take her out and cheer her up. I think they have five kids and two cats now or something crazy. But anyway, after that, people would always ask for my help and it turned out to be something I was good at—” I stopped when I caught Nate staring at me with wide eyes. Oh, shit, my friends are right. Zip it, Shayne, you rambling hot mess.
He smirked and leaned back. “So you kind of fell into it.”
Yep, that had been a bit more information than I needed to throw out, I guess. “Sorry. Yeah, that’s the short story.”
“Don’t be sorry. I like to hear you talk.”
And didn’t that admission have me squirming in my seat.
“I think I’ve talked enough,” I said, laughing. “What about you?”
He spread his hands wide. “I’m an open book.”
“Tell me some things on your bucket list.”
“Hmm. I’d like to direct a full-length feature film with a decent budget. Cage dive with great white sharks. Learn a foreign language. And—” He stopped and shook his head. “What about you?”
“What were you about to say?”
“Nothing. I can’t give you my whole bucket list.”
“Was it skydiving? Bungee jumping?”
“Nah, already checked those off.”
“So adventurous. Tell me what you were gonna say.”
One of his eyebrows shot up. “Would it be terribly cheesy to say I’d like to fall in love?”
“The cheesiest.”
“Well, it can’t be too surprising considering your line of work.”
“Is that really what you were going to say?”
He shrugged and gave me a dimpled smile. “Something like that.”
“Tell me. I promise my lips are sealed.”
“You know that bridge in Paris that people put locks on?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“I’d like to do that. Put a lock on the bridge, I mean.”
My brow furrowed as I studied his face to see if he was pulling my chain. This had to be some kind of line he used on women, because what guy had putting love locks on a bridge on his bucket list? I wanted to ask if he was for real, but instead what came out was, “I’m pretty sure they cut them all off.”
“What? No, they don’t.” Poor guy looked heartbroken.
“Not to crush your bucket list dreams or anything, but…yeah, I’m pretty sure you can’t do that anymore. Maybe you could write a message in the sky as a declaration of love instead?”
“Or maybe I’ll just find another bridge.”
“Or you could do that.”
A romantic. Who would’ve thought? And didn’t that have my interest jumping up another level or five.
* * *
NATE INSISTED ON driving me home, saying the train after dark was no place for a “hot female.” His words, not mine. Normally I’d never let a guy within a two-mile radius of where I lived until at least the third date, but hell, he’d already seen me without my pants, so it worked out.
He pulled up to the curb in front of my apartment complex—and no, the expensive BMW he drove didn’t escape my notice—and shut off the engine. The night was surprisingly quiet as we sat there in the dark, and I knew there was no way he couldn’t hear my heart pounding as I wondered at our next moves.
“I’m not too far from you,” he said, breaking the silence and then spouting off the address.
Huh. He was only maybe a mile away. “That’s convenient.”
“For?” I could hear the smile in his voice.
Play it cool, Shayne. He may decide you and your ice cream pajamas are too lame for him and his Star Wars underpants.
“Oh, you know, in case I ever need a chauffeur.” I unbuckled my seatbelt and bent down to grab my purse from the floor, but he reached at the same time. Our heads crashed together in a painful headbutt and I jerked back.
“Ah hell,” he said, holding his forehead. “Sorry, I was gonna grab it for you. Are you okay?”
I rubbed my temple and nodded. “No worries. Happens all the time.”
“I’m beginning to realize tha
t.”
When I reached for the door handle, he laid a hand on my arm.
“Don’t move,” he said. Then he jumped out and came around to my side to open the door for me.
A guy opening doors all night—another increasingly rare move that got another mark in the gentleman column.
“Thank you.” Taking his offered hand, I stepped up onto the curb, and then we headed up the stairs to the main entrance.
Would he kiss me again? Sober this time? Did I want him to? Oh, bugger off, Shayne, of course you want him to. Actually, I wanted to invite him in, but there was no way that was happening after his first denial. Not to mention we had paper-thin walls and the twins were home…
“I’m glad you said yes to tonight.”
“I only said yes for the waffle. But I guess the company was okay too.”
“Only okay? This wasn’t the best date ever? Not many women have the pleasure of going to a last-choice restaurant with me and getting a concussion.”
His fingers brushed the tender spot on my head, and I shivered, and couldn’t even blame the reaction on the cold. It was him. All him.
He took a small step forward, bringing his body within inches of mine. He was so close I could almost taste him in the air, our breaths forming puffy clouds that intermingled between us. Then his lips touched mine, soft at first and then crushing as my mouth parted for his.
His hands gripped my waist underneath my unbuttoned jacket before traveling up my back. Then he moved one hand out to grasp the back of my head, pulling me closer as I wound my arms around his neck.
I lost myself in that kiss, the slow, sensual pull of it, the taste of him mixed with chocolate and the sweet mint he’d sucked after—a heavenly combination. Our tongues moved in sync, like his mouth had been made just to fit mine. His body was warm, so warm that I barely noticed the frigid wind that had kicked up to scatter my hair around us.
He kissed me for hours or minutes, I couldn’t tell, as it was so completely fulfilling and yet over too soon. Strong fingers threaded through the hair at the nape of my neck and drew us slowly apart, and his other hand came up to brush the hair out of my face. His lips touched mine once more, then twice, before asking, “Thursday. Can I see you then?”
I opened my eyes and tried to remember what day it was. Tried to remember my name. Anything.
His mouth tipped up on one side. “I know Thursday nights are usually reserved for sexy pajamas and Target visits, but maybe you could make an exception?”
“Or maybe you could take me there,” I said, my voice returning, though a bit huskier than I was used to. “IHOP and Target dates. You’re a total ladies’ man.”
“What am I going to do with you?”
I opened my mouth to say something inappropriate and then thought better of it and made the motion of zipping my lips shut. Instead of a response, he angled his head as if to kiss me again, but at the last minute he turned to kiss the sweet spot under my ear. Softly. Reverently.
“Thursday,” he whispered, and I could only nod as he pulled away, a sexy, satisfied grin on his face.
There was only one thought on my mind as I watched him walk to his car and drive away.
I was in trouble. Big, dirty, delicious trouble.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The Motherfuckin’ Leak
I WAS WAITING for my coffee at Starbucks when it happened.
Bleary-eyed and half-awake at seven a.m. the next morning—to get a head start on project don’t-lose-my-job, natch—I’d almost missed what the women next to me were gossiping about.
But can you blame me for still dreaming about the night before? I didn’t think so.
The way Nate looked at me right before he kissed me on the front steps. How tightly pressed against me he’d been, so much that I could feel every part of him, even his—
“…and did you hear the news about Ace Locke? I had no idea.”
I had to force myself not to whip around when I heard Ace’s name.
News? What news? Good? Bad?
“Oh, please. They’re lying,” her friend responded. “There’s no way. He dates supermodels, for Christ’s sake.”
“I just heard it on the radio on the way up here, and if Ryan Seacrest tells you, you know it’s true. And apparently, not only is he gay, but he went to a matchmaking place somewhere around here that was gonna set him up with someone. Can you believe that?”
“MOTHERFUCKER!”
The room went silent, and every head swiveled around to look in my direction. Even the damn baristas.
I swallowed and unclenched the fists I hadn’t realized I’d balled up.
“Uh…” I sputtered. “I just…lost my contact.” Dropping to my knees, I swept the floor with one of my hands and held the other over my eye, as those around me backed up to give me room.
My whole body had to be turning a hundred shades of red, both from the ridiculousness of crawling around on the floor to cover my outburst, and also anger from the reason behind said outburst.
This had to be a mistake. A nightmare. Yeah, that was it.
“Got it,” I said, grabbing at the imaginary contact and jumping up. Everyone was staring at me with wide eyes, inching farther back so they didn’t catch my brand of crazy.
“Flat white for Shayne,” the barista called out, and I practically ran to the counter to grab my drink before darting out the door. The cold wind was a slap in the face as I speed-walked to work.
Oh God. This was bad. So very, very bad. How did that news get out? Val? Eavesdropper Nicole? Shit.
Shitshitshitbigpileofmotherfuckingshit.
I picked up the pace, and when I reached my office building, I flung the door wide open and raced inside. Roberto wasn’t there yet, but I yelled a quick “Mornin’” to the early morning guard and went straight for the elevator. I’d gotten up early to get a head start on going through my client file, but now that was the least of my worries.
Once I got to my office, which would hopefully still be empty for at least another hour and a half, I dumped my bag on the floor and logged in to my computer. I typed in the first entertainment site that came to mind, and there it was—”Breaking News: Ace Locke is Gay!” the headline screamed, and I cursed under my breath as I clicked it open to see the damage.
My eyes devoured the article, which attributed the leaked information to an unnamed reliable source, and went on to say that Ace had been seen meeting with the head of HLS at The Ivory Tower last week to discuss his participation in their upcoming “coming out” campaign, as well as spending a night out with matchmaking coordinator Shayne Callahan, in Las Vegas to scope out potential matches. There were even pictures of both Val and me, though the one of Ace and I at the Chandelier was a bit grainy. It then went on to give a few instances of “proof” of Ace’s interest in men. One named source had been the waiter at the restaurant he dined at with Val, who claimed Ace was “flirtatious and made advances toward him” before tipping him more than triple the bill.
“That’s not proof!” I screeched at my computer before dropping my head in my hands.
Did Val leak this information? Did Nicole? Fuck me, what a mess. I was gonna get fired. I should just pack up my stuff now. Then Ace’s face popped into my head, and I fell into my chair.
Oh God. Did he know yet? He was probably still sleeping. At least, I hoped so.
Twinges of guilt twisted in my gut as I thought about what his reaction would be when he saw the headlines. No doubt he would think that I’d stuffed up. That I was the one who gave up his secret to the whole world, the one he’d wanted to keep under wraps.
Furious was an understatement. If it hadn’t been for me, neither Val or Nicole would’ve known and none of this would be happening. If, of course, they did it. And I had a strong feeling my guess was right on.
On the other hand, Ace knew I’d be checking in with my boss regarding what we’d talked about, so…
Groaning, I collapsed on top of my arms.
How h
ad everything gone tits up overnight? And the bigger question: how the hell was I going to fix it?
* * *
I’D TROLLED EVERY entertainment news website and chewed through a whole pack of gum and half a dozen pen caps when Val decided to make her grand appearance three hours later.
She didn’t glance my way or make any smartassed comments about my vanilla outfit, per usual, as she walked by. Finding that strange, I jumped up and followed, hot on her heels. I needed answers, and I needed them hours ago.
“Please tell me it wasn’t you,” I said, following her into her office and shutting the door behind me.
Her heels click-clacked on the floor as she breezed across the room and dropped her Louis Vuitton bag on the desk. “Tell you what wasn’t me? And why are you following me around this morning? Don’t you have a column to write? Some fornicating couples to match?”
Stopping in front of her desk, I tried to keep my voice calm and steady. “You know what I’m talking about. The Ace leak. The one that’s all over the news right now. Please tell me it wasn’t you.”
“Course not.” She flipped open a compact mirror and applied a coat of her signature red lipstick. Traitor red, more like.
“I’m serious. Did the whole world just find out something private because you talked to the media? Please tell me the truth.”
“Hey. Little do-gooder.” Val glanced briefly at me before returning her eyes to the mirror. “In case you forgot the pecking order around here, I am your boss, and you are my employee. I don’t have to tell you when I take a shit or how I decide to wipe my ass.”
“But…you just said—”
“I know what I said, and that should be good enough for you.” Val blotted her lips with a tissue and tossed it in the trash. “Now, having said that, you need to learn this business. Sometimes if you want to succeed and make a name for yourself, you have to do whatever it takes.” She ran her eyes over me before narrowing them. “But, you know. I think I was wrong about you.”
Hooker (L.A. Liaisons Book 2) Page 10
