Mail Order Soulmate

by Jean Oram

  “Can you sing?” she asked.

  “I’ll make you swoon.”

  “Pick a song, Mr. Confident.”

  “And you’ll sing it?”

  “And so will you. Duet, remember?”

  Zach jumped off the stage, making his way to the laptop Moe was fiddling with.

  “Catherine, is your mic on?” Moe asked.

  “Testing, testing,” she said into it.

  Amy gave her a thumbs-up and adjusted a few things.

  “We should really do this tomorrow night. What if the settings gets bumped?” Amy said to Moe.

  “We won’t have time, and we have willing victims ready to sing for us now.”

  Catherine couldn’t help but notice the way the two were always stepping into each other’s physical space, casually touching. Like right now Amy was dragging her fingers along the waistband of Moe’s jeans, as if wishing for something.

  Catherine inhaled and dragged her glance away, catching Zach watching her. If she wasn’t careful she’d start wishing for things with her own husband.

  “Well?” She stuck out a hip, giving him an impatient look that made him smile.

  “How do you do with the oldies?” he asked.

  “Try me, Grandma’s boy.”

  He smirked as the first chords of the song began to play. Moe tapped a button, then crossed his arms to lean back and listen.

  Catherine knew the song, “Baby, It’s Cold Outside,” and she lifted the microphone closer to her lips, mentally running through the lyrics so she’d be ready for her turn to sing.

  “The best version was sung by Johnny Mercer and Margaret Whiting,” she said, loudly enough for Zach to hear.

  “Agreed. But Dean Martin is known best for making the song famous and melting hearts.”

  “The song isn’t about implied nonconsent,” she added, noting how in recent years it had gotten a bad rap due to the way the man tries hard to be convincing in regards to making his sweetheart stay with him a little longer despite the night growing older.

  “It’s about resisting temptation.” Zach met her eyes with a heated look that nearly turned her into a puddle right then and there.

  She almost missed her first line, wondering if she’d be able to resist the temptation that was Zach, or if she’d end up like the woman in the song, saying to heck with what everyone thought about her and giving in to her wants.

  She sang her line, her voice a bit rusty as it had been a long time since she’d felt the urge to sing in a heartfelt way. Zach, leaning in to share the microphone, delivered his line flawlessly, his timing perfect, his words flowing into hers and vice versa as they got into the groove of the duet and the overlapping lines. He had a rich voice—that same one he’d used to sing to Xavier. But now it was throatier somehow. Deeper. It felt like he was singing to her and only her.

  Which was ridiculous.

  He was singing with her. It just felt like he was singing to her because he kept looking at her. Probably because he was afraid they’d knock heads while sharing the microphone if he didn’t know where she was at all times.

  Her voice came back as she relaxed, enjoying the timing that came so easily between her and Zach. Her husband.

  “Why am I not surprised he chose an old song?” Moe asked Amy. She was smiling, swaying to the music, and Moe took her in his arms, dancing and making Catherine smile.

  “Not bad for something that’s not country and western,” the cowboy said.

  Catherine faced Zach, the push-pull arguments of the female and male vocals feeling as though it was mirroring her own life with Zach. The two singers argued back and forth over the pros and cons of the woman staying for another drink and allowing things to go a little bit further. The couple in the song was playing a coy game, the tension and desire building between them, echoing the situation between herself and Zach.

  Catherine’s own lyrics were about avoiding judgment, reminding her of her own experience. The judgment she’d faced due to her family’s reputation. Then from them as she chose to live her life separately. From the police when she’d been taken in. From strangers when they discovered she was a single mother. The wary watching of the folks here in Blueberry Springs, generous as they were, yet ensuring she took care of Zach.

  But most of all, for saying yes. For taking the leap and marrying Zach, when society said no, that’s not what you do.

  Why had Zach chosen this song?

  He was swaying beside her, flirtatious and debonair, like a lover who was trying to be convincing. Like a man trying to convince a woman to stay for another drink. To cozy up by the fire. He waggled his brows and she let out a surprised laugh. He smiled and ran a light finger between her brows, where tension always formed, and pretended to wipe it away. He must have noticed her falling in on herself, thinking about her life and becoming tense.

  She shifted her body away, then back again, acting coy, playing the game. She forgot everything but him as they sang the final chorus together, their voices melding in perfect harmony.

  If this was life with Zach, she never wanted the song to end.

  8

  Zach felt alive. Really, truly alive. Like he’d just lived a whole entire life in one short song. A song he’d chosen in order to toy with his wife, but which had opened up his world. He couldn’t explain it, but didn’t want the feeling to end. He wanted to keep singing.

  “You were awesome,” he said. “What if we’d never discovered we could do that?”

  She leaned against him, her hand on his chest. “We were awesome.” She was looking up at him, her expression open, free. She was beautiful.

  Without thinking, he leaned down, matching his lips to hers.

  He kissed her.

  Pulled back.

  Said nothing.

  Didn’t tug her into his arms.

  Didn’t inhale the scent of her perfume, her shampoo.

  “Oh,” Catherine said, taking a half step back, looking shy and flustered.

  Zach stepped off the stage. He didn’t know what to do with her surprise, only knew that he had to walk away or he’d pull her into his arms and give her a long, deep kiss that would claim her.

  A woman he wasn’t allowed to claim, because she hadn’t given him the word. She had to let those walls down on her own. He wasn’t going to be like the man in the song and push his luck. She had to let him in. On her terms. In her time.

  But he really hoped she would hurry it up.

  “That was amazing,” Amy gushed. She was holding her phone, and Zach had a feeling she’d recorded them, the two of them too wrapped up in the spell they’d created to even notice the pub owners working on the system around them. The speakers had changed location from when the song had started and he hadn’t noticed. It was a good thing he hadn’t married Catherine while he was still in the spy business or on his first mission he would have likely been hit by a car while crossing the street.

  “You two should take it on the road,” Cole said, tipping his cowboy hat.

  “Thanks.” Zach turned to Amy. “Don’t post that video online, okay?”

  “Why?”

  “Please.”

  “Okay,” Amy said, looking disappointed.

  Catherine was still onstage, still looking a little shell-shocked. That had to be good, right?

  “Maybe you could be the karaoke night’s opening act,” Zach called to her.

  “The best karaoke places seed the crowd with a few semiprofessionals,” Catherine replied. Her voice had sort of a dazed tone.

  “Really?” Amy asked.

  She nodded. “We used to do that at the nightclub I—” She sucked in a breath, her eyes darting to the left. “—went to.” She flapped her hands nervously and came down off the stage. “I used to be a clubber.”

  “Clubber of what? Of baby seals?” Cole asked with a wry laugh. He turned to Moe. “Could really use that whiskey.”

  “We’re not open.”

  “I think she means nightclub,” Zach sa
id, knowing Cole was being smart.

  “A lifetime ago,” Catherine said stiffly. “I’m a mum now.” She had a hint of that proper British thing going on as she moved toward the still-sleeping Xavier on legs that could have been metal rods, for all the flex and bounce they had. She took her old stool, and Zach sat beside her, curious about the change in her.

  She’d been shocked by the kiss.

  But this stiffness? This was about the nightclub back home.

  So what had gone down on the other side of the world? Was the club related to her stalker? Zach would bet he had the correct answer on that one: yes.

  He was sorely tempted to give Logan the go-ahead on snooping into her past. Because now that he’d had a taste of her lips, of the way the two of them could move and sing together up on stage, he didn’t want a single thing to get in the way of having this dream become reality.

  Catherine needed to control herself. She’d gotten swept up in the moment and the connection she’d felt with Zach. A man she was afraid to trust, even though she knew it was already too late. She trusted him. And because she did, she was allowing things she wanted to keep secret to tumble from her lips.

  And the kiss…

  He’d kissed her sweetly and without expectations.

  A kiss that held promise.

  A kiss that had been an offer. A key slipped under her door, welcoming her to unlock the heat simmering between them, following the duet. It had been undeniable, the sense of potential, excitement and freedom ripping through her, shredding anything that stood in her way of having this man.

  She’d momentarily forgotten who she was. A gang leader’s daughter. The little girl who’d been scoffed at for wanting to do things the honest way. The young woman whose brothers had beaten up her first lover for taking her offered virginity.

  With that small slip about the club, she’d almost told Zach who she really was. He wasn’t dumb, and she knew that once he pieced enough tidbits together and saw what she’d left behind and why, things would change. The discomfort would slide in like a ghost, wedging its way between them. There’d be extra glances, to check in on her and to confirm her real intentions. There’d be loaded statements, jokes that weren’t funny. A subtle uptick in looking over his shoulder, as though expecting someone from her family to be there.

  Zach was too quick and too smart not to notice and add it all up.

  What would his clients think about having someone from a crime family doing his books and sending out invoices? It didn’t matter that she was honest. Her family’s history and reputation would taint her, paint her with the same brush as though she was truly one of them. The changes would be subtle. Clients double-checking to ensure her billing was accurate. A downturn in his company acquiring new accounts. An increase in questions about the integrity of a system he’d installed and who could disarm it.

  Zach shifted on the bar stool beside her. “You worked in a pub?” he asked.

  She turned slowly, afraid what she’d see in her husband’s eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes that were always watching.

  She’d lied to him, and that wasn’t who she wanted to be. But most importantly, not who she wanted him to think she was.

  She was caught, though. How could she protect herself as well as Xavier if she told the truth?

  “Nightclub,” she said, keeping her voice low enough that Amy and Moe couldn’t hear them from their spot at the end of the bar. They were looking at a booklet of available song titles, each page flip punctuated by laughter. Cole was sitting nearby, hands clasped on the countertop, contemplating his thumbnail, and too far away from Catherine and Zach to eavesdrop.

  “What went wrong?” Zach asked.

  She noted that he hadn’t asked what had happened, or whether she’d liked the job.

  “What didn’t?” She tried for a chuckle to ease the tightness in her chest, but ended up choking instead.

  “You want to talk about it?” he asked, when she’d ceased coughing.

  “Not especially.”

  They sat in silence for a moment. Zach was pointedly not looking at her, giving her space, idly rocking Xavier in his carrier. It was tempting to tell him everything.

  “But you should know,” she said quietly. She liked Zach and she wanted this—whatever it was—to work. And to do that, she needed to be as upfront and honest as possible. If she started lying now it wouldn’t stop until the truth surfaced in one awful tangled mess. And she knew exactly where dishonesty and large omissions led when it came to relationships.

  Zach had stilled, his shoulders tipping toward her as he waited and listened.

  Her heart was racing like she was being chased as she fought for the courage to let Zach in—just a little bit. Enough that what they had could be based on honesty.

  “It closed down,” she said, forcing the words through her tightening throat and past her lips. “I was the events manager for several years. I also did some light accounting and a bit of record keeping and invoicing for the bands I booked.”

  Her mind swept back through time to the nightclub, the pulse of bass throbbing in her chest while she worked. The flash of strobe lights, the sense of excitement over what each night would bring and whether a celebrity would come by. The place had been trendy, busy even on weeknights, and the profits had made her grin with pride.

  Although apparently a substantial amount of those profits hadn’t been from her bookings.

  “What happened?” Zach asked.

  “The club was a cover for a gang.” She met his gaze, surprised by the lack of emotion she felt. It was as if someone had numbed her entire nervous system. “They were laundering money.”

  “Were you brought in by the police?”

  She nodded. “But I wasn’t—I was in the dark.” The sharp sting of humiliation hit her through the numbness. No matter how she lived her life, she felt as though her family would always taint it, and would always find a way to intrude on whatever she managed to set aside for herself.

  She could feel Zach’s presence beside her, his steady warmth as his gaze took her in, giving her way too much space to voice her secrets.

  “I’m sorry, Zach.”

  “Why?”

  “I should have told you sooner. I understand if you no longer want me working with your financials.”

  “Why?”

  “Because…” She waved a hand through the air as though summing up her story. Hadn’t he been listening? Why would he want to be associated with someone who had been involved—even unwittingly—with a business that had been closed down due to money laundering charges? “I was associated.”

  “Did you help launder money?”

  “Not intentionally.”

  “Help assist in tax evasion?”

  She leaned back, feeling insulted. “No.” Did she look like she would?

  “Steal?”

  “No!”

  “Anything illegal or unethical?”

  Catherine fumed at him, then said, “I once gave a friend a drink on the house because it was her birthday.”

  Zach’s chest bounced, his shoulders shaking as he held in a quiet laugh. “And that’s got you all strung up tighter than a kitten in a ball of Christmas lights?”

  She tugged the hem of her shirt into place and tried not to huff at him.

  He draped an arm across her shoulders. “Oh, Catherine.” He planted a chaste kiss against her temple, then withdrew, retreating back to his own space. She wanted to follow, wanted to relish his acceptance a little while longer. She wanted to hear him say her name with that hint of affection one more time, and craved to have his lips land against her flesh once again. Only longer next time.

  Because this…this was almost too much. Almost like a dream come true.

  Zach was well aware that Catherine hadn’t told him the whole truth about the money laundering scheme. He felt as if she’d left some things out, as her sense of responsibility seemed to outweigh the wrongdoing. Embarrassed and ashamed, yes. But to still feel so
responsible? That was a good indicator that something wasn’t lining up quite right. Whatever it was, he knew it was just another thread in the story of Catherine’s past that he’d yet to unravel, like the lengths of yarn tangled at his grandmother’s feet.

  As Zach guided Catherine to his Land Rover, Xavier dozing in the car seat he was carrying, he said, “You know money laundering is difficult to sniff out. The whole scheme is designed to go undetected.”

  Catherine took Xavier and focused on securing his carrier in the SUV. Zach watched, forcing himself to consider that she might not be as innocent as his gut suggested.

  He took the brush out of the back and began sweeping the accumulated snow off his vehicle. Catherine was in the front seat, seat belt secured, mittened hands clenched in her lap. What would it take to unwind her again? Was he going to have to find a way to get her back on that karaoke stage?

  “It must’ve been a while ago,” he said, once he was in the driver’s seat.

  Yeah, yeah, he was fishing like an agent might, but he told himself he was being supportive. A supportive husband. It was either this or send Logan digging into her past, and that felt like a major breach of trust right now.

  “I should have seen the signs.”

  “Why’s that?”

  She turned to him, eyes blazing. “Because.” She was adamant, but didn’t clarify why, simply cinched her seat belt tighter, as if it might help her keep her fears and guilt locked inside.

  “I’m a good secret keeper.” He gave her a nod and a serious look, playfully pretending to zip up his lips, lock them, then toss the make-believe key over his right shoulder. “See?” he mumbled through closed lips. He opened them to add, “I can’t tell anybody anything. My lips are sealed, plus we’re under the cone of silence right now. Anything that happens in here will not be heard elsewhere and can never escape.”

  She didn’t reply for a long moment and he gave her a light nudge.

  “You seem to be able to speak just fine at the moment despite your so-called locked lips,” she said.

  “That was for illustration purposes. I’m not a ventriloquist. I find them a little bit creepy, actually.”