by Sandra Kitt
They chatted for a few minutes until Val was called away by an acquaintance.
Since she didn’t believe in love at first sight, Val could only conclude that her reaction to Eric Fitzgerald was a major case of lust at first sight. And lust, she knew, was easy enough to deal with: if you ignored it, it eventually went away. The only thing was, Val had a sinking feeling that this wasn’t going to go away. Not when from across the room she could feel him watching her. And she responded, at least physically.
Now Val looked up, and sure enough Eric was staring at her. He smiled when their gazes locked, and Val put a hand out to the nearest support.
That support happened to be the back of the center director. The man turned around.
“Oh, Val. Let me introduce you to a couple of our other volunteers. Because you all come in at different times and on different days, you volunteers never get to meet each other.”
Val let herself be pulled into the conversation. But her thoughts were across the room with Eric Fitzgerald. She’d only just met him, but she felt connected to him in a way that surprised, and, to some degree, annoyed her. She felt almost as if she’d known him, now and through time. The feeling was disconcerting at best, and at worst... Val positioned herself so she could see Eric Fitzgerald. Worst just didn’t exist. The man was gorgeous.
Chapter 3
Eric watched Val Sanders watch him. She’d been peeping at him most of the last hour. She was good at it, too—discreet. Had it been any other woman, Eric might not have noticed how thoroughly he was being scoped. But he’d been so busy eyeing her—he hadn’t been as subtle—he had clued in to her quiet study of him. The reception was winding down and Eric knew he was running out of time.
Eric had always, always listened to the still, quiet voice inside himself. That voice, or intuition, as some people called it, had never failed him. But now there was no still and quiet knowing. The voice was shouting at him: she’s the one! Val is the one!
He watched her turn to answer someone in the small group she was chatting with, and Eric went in search of Netanya.
“Excuse me, I’d like to steal a few moments with this pretty lady,” he told the people Netanya talked with.
“Mr. Fitzgerald,” a man lightheartedly complained, “you get to have her all the time. You’re quite possessive, you know.”
Eric laughed and Netanya took his arm. “I promise to return her to your company in just a few minutes.”
He then proceeded to practically drag Netanya to a corner.
From across the room Val spotted the gorgeous Eric Fitzgerald whisk his dainty partner to a secluded spot. The two, huddled together, looked as if they couldn’t wait to get in each other’s arms. Val sighed. The good ones were always taken. But what she was seeing right now didn’t reconcile with the messages she’d been getting from the man for the past hour. Maybe he just liked to prowl and Netanya Gardner looked the other way. Some couples had relationships like that.
She glanced at him one more time. Maybe he and his business partner were just that, business partners. Val had to admit that her reaction to Eric was purely physical. She didn’t know anything about the man. She wondered how she could find out some basic information.
From where they stood, Eric scolded Netanya. “You’ve been holding out on me,” he said.
Netanya bit into a small cracker topped with pâté. “Whatever do you mean, Eric?”
He grinned down at her. “You know exactly what I mean. Tell me all about her, Netanya. Is she single? Is she available?” Eric looked closely at his partner, then added, “She isn’t—”
Netanya smiled and interrupted. “No, Eric, rest easy. I assume you’re referring to Val.”
“You have this matchmaking role down to a fine art. Who else would I be referring to? You blithely introduce me to exactly the type of woman you know I’m crazy about and then you both waltz off. I want to know why you’ve been hiding this particular girlfriend of yours.”
“I haven’t been hiding her.”
“So, details, woman. I need details.”
Netanya reached up and smoothed away a wrinkle in Eric’s suit jacket. “She’s single. Professional. Works partly out of her home. She’s available, but I don’t know if you’re her type.”
Eric frowned. “What do you mean, I’m not her type? I own my own business. I’m not wanted by the police or the DEA, and I’m not bad-looking.”
Netanya laughed. “Actually, darling, you’re great-looking. If I wasn’t already committed, I’d give you a whirl.”
Eric chuckled, then he leaned down and kissed Netanya on the cheek. “That’s why I love you so much. You’re so sassy. So, what you’re telling me, in a very unhelpful way I might add, is that there’s a green light here.”
“Umm, you could put it that way.”
“And you know what’s best?” he added. “She’s not one of those lonely hearts from the agency. As a friend of yours, I know she comes highly recommended. Thank God she isn’t one of those desperate females who wants to find true love through one of our computer terminals.”
Netanya sighed. “Eric, those so-called desperate females made you very rich.”
“And I’m grateful to each and every one of them. I don’t knock it. If it works for them, fine. It’s just not my thing. Can you get home okay by yourself?”
“Eric, I got here by myself,” Netanya pointed out. She looked around him. “If you’re going to make a move, lover man, it better be soon. She’s getting her coat.”
Eric glanced over his shoulder. Val was standing in a short line at a makeshift coat check. “Uh, later, Netanya,” he said absently as he headed in Val’s direction.
For the most part contented and pleased with her work for the night, Netanya watched Eric head across the room. All she could hope right now is that it would work out. Between Eric’s hangup and Val’s reluctance to even talk with the A Match Made in Heaven counselors, sparks were bound to fly between the two.
But Netanya well knew Eric’s physical preferences in women. He liked them well rounded with bright smiles and long, shapely legs. Val, in his book, probably scored an eleven on a scale of one to ten. But Netanya also knew he had a near phobia about desperate females who elected to find their love matches through agencies like the one they owned.
Netanya sighed. But then she smiled. It was Cupid’s season. If Val and Eric were indeed a match made in heaven, Cupid’s arrow would handle any little difficulties.
“The woman’s name is Valentine, for goodness’ sake. That has to count for something,” Netanya mumbled as she rejoined the group she had been talking with.
Eric caught up with Val as the attendant handed her her coat. He took it from her arms and helped her into it.
Turning to thank the kind gentleman for his assistance, Val gasped when she saw Eric Fitzgerald. Her knees grew weak and her heart started to pound.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“You’re welcome.” Eric held her elbow as he handed his ticket to the attendant to retrieve his own overcoat. Then, draping it over his arm, he steered Val a few feet away.
“Pardon me if this seems a bit abrupt,” he began. “Val, I know we only just met an hour or so ago, but I’d like to get to know you better. Would you go out to dinner with me? Tonight?”
He was so close that Val couldn’t think straight, let alone breathe, so close that if she just turned her head a tad, their lips would meet. The musky citrus of his cologne wrapped around her senses. How could a man she’d just met make her feel so warm, so tingly, so ready...so fast?
“Mr. Fitzgerald, I don’t think...”
Eric smiled and Val was lost. “Say yes, Val. I’m very hungry.”
“Yes,” she breathed.
In the next instant, his mouth covered hers.
She’d read about it. She’d heard about it. She’d even believed she’d experienced it a time or two. But in Eric Fitzgerald’s arms, Val discovered the true meaning of the word passion. If she ha
dn’t known for a fact that it was February, she would have bet good money that it was the Fourth of July, because fireworks and sparklers were going off all around her.
He deepened the kiss from one of exploratory inquisitiveness to an embrace that staked a claim. Eric pulled her closer and wrapped an arm under her coat. Val stepped into his arms and let the fullness of her body merge with the solid wall that was his. He lapped the sweet nectar from her mouth, and Val moaned her pleasure. Or had that come from him?
For an eternity they stood together. Eric traced the fine contour of her face with one large, well-defined hand. Val’s gaze never left his as his arms slowly descended to brace hers. His head lowered again for another taste.
Then, appalled at her recklessness and remembering where she was, Val took a step back. This man was a stranger, someone she’d met a mere hour earlier. But Eric held her in a loose embrace.
“You’re mine,” he whispered.
Val’s eyes widened. “Excuse me? What did you say?”
“All my life I’ve searched for you. All my life I’ve waited for you to arrive. Now that you have, I’ll never let you go.”
“Excuse me?”
Val shook free of his hands and wrapped her coat about her. “Look, I... Mr. Fitzgerald...”
“Call me Eric.”
The sexy baritone of his voice washed over Val. There were several things she didn’t believe in—love at first sight, wearing white shoes before Easter and being hypnotized by someone’s voice. Hypnotized or mesmerized, Val didn’t know which it was, but one thing remained true: the instantaneous attraction she felt toward this man was like nothing she’d ever experienced. Waves of longing washed over her. If the earth moved when he’d simply kissed her, what would it feel like if and when those hands, those gorgeous hands, touched her all over?
“There’s a late-night café right across the street. Let’s get a cup of coffee and a bite to eat,” he suggested.
At the dubious and then cautious look in her eyes, he quickly added, “I’m not a criminal. I’m not a pervert. I have good credit. Netanya can vouch for my good character and name. I can’t say that I’ve ever hauled a woman into my arms and kissed her practically moments after being introduced, but I’m told there’s a first time for everything. I promise if you walk across the street with me, we’ll start at the beginning. And I’ll try not to kiss you again until I see you safely to your car.”
Val smiled. Could he be feeling the same desperate sense of rightness that she felt? “That is the most compelling pickup speech I’ve heard in years,” she told him. “Let’s go get a cup of coffee before I change my mind and decide this is really not a good idea.”
Val had been reckless before, but nothing like this. Throwing caution to the wind for now, she let Eric Fitzgerald lead her out the door and across the street.
At the waffle house they took a seat at the only available table, one with a wobbly leg and syrup stains on the green and white speckled top. A tired-looking waitress, her hair secured in a net and pulled back in a severe bun, wiped a damp towel over the Formica tabletop, then plopped two sets of paper-napkin-wrapped utensils on the table.
“Evenin’ folks. My name’s Jo. Can I get you some coffee?”
“I don’t suppose you have espresso?” Val asked.
The waitress popped the gum tucked in her mouth and cocked a penciled-in eyebrow at Val. “The coffeehouse is three blocks over. But they’re probably closing up about now. We got coffee, plain, Maxwell House.”
“Well, I guess I’ll take coffee. Plain. Maxwell House.”
Eric managed to suppress a smile. “Make that two,” he told the waitress. “And a couple of menus, please.”
The waitress walked away, rolling her eyes.
“That wasn’t very nice,” he said.
“I know. She just looks so worn out. Make sure you leave her a big tip.”
“Who said I was paying?”
“You started this little chase. I’m just along to see how you play it out.” She glanced around them at the many customers in the brightly lit restaurant. “And I’m wondering what kind of impression you’re trying to make on me.”
Val wasn’t about to tell him that she was more than a little curious about a man who was secure enough with himself that he’d make their first “date” at an all-night restaurant. Then she smiled. He was obviously a man who took advantage of opportunity. This place was right across the street from the center. He’d probably figured she wouldn’t object to something so nearby.
Eric leaned back in his chair and regarded Val. The speculation in his eyes was unmistakable. “You intrigue me.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I plan to,” he countered.
It was Val’s turn to lean back. She crossed her arms and stared him down.
“If you knew what that look did to me, you wouldn’t do it,” he said.
“Maybe I do know and I just want to see how you respond.”
Eric let out a hoot of laughter. Then, smiling, he leaned both elbows on the table. “Where has Netanya been hiding you? It wasn’t very nice of her to not introduce us earlier.”
“It was early enough. Are you really going to volunteer time at the center, or was that just part of the pickup line?”
“What would you say if my answer was both?” he asked.
“I’d say you intrigue me.”
Val’s smile was coy as the waitress placed two cups minus saucers on the table and poured steaming java just below the brims. She left two menus on the edge of the table. Eric and Val both ignored them.
“Would you go out with me?”
“I am out with you,” Val said. She briefly wondered why she was being so combative. But the moment just seemed to call for this easy, flirtatious banter. And when she admitted it to herself, the conversation was kind of fun. The sexual tension crackled between them.
Eric nodded his head, conceding the technical point. “I mean a date,” he clarified.
“I know. And the answer is yes.”
“Why?”
Val opened a small cream container and slowly poured the liquid in her coffee. She flipped open the napkin holding the flatware, pulled out the spoon, and stirred the coffee before looking Eric dead in the eye. “Because you have nice...hands.”
They made a date for Sunday brunch the next day.
* * *
For the umpteenth time, Val wondered if she’d lost her mind. She was attracted to Eric Fitzgerald. That fact didn’t concern her so much as the fact that when she was around him she responded in ways she’d never responded to a man before.
She knew his name, she knew he co-owned the matchmaking service. Beyond that she couldn’t think of a single thing, other, of course, than his physical attributes, that made her feel so connected to him. Right now, though, she was starting to feel irritated. He was almost twenty minutes late.
As she waited for him to pick her up at her condo for brunch, she tried to decide if it was all a game to him. At the A Match Made in Heaven office, Netanya Gardner had said it would take about a week to process her application and begin the matching process. Yet, it hadn’t taken a week, just a moment, for Netanya to introduce her to Eric.
Val’s doorbell rang. She took one last glance in the full-length mirror in the hall. Satisfied that her makeup was flawless and that the russet-colored sweater set she wore complemented her figure, she went to and opened her front door.
The smile of greeting died on her lips.
It was Eric all right. And he was covered in... What was that smell? Motor oil? Gasoline?
She folded her arms and leaned back against the door. “You’re late.”
“I can explain,” he said. “May I come in?”
Val didn’t move. She eyed the pullover sweater and the vest he wore. Both pieces of clothing were speckled with spots. His shoes and the bottoms of his trousers looked as if he’d been stomping through a swamp. “I don’t mean to be rude, but what is that stuff
all over you?”
“It’s a combination of oil, transmission fluid and mud.”
“My carpeting is white, Eric.”
She watched him step out of his shoes and roll up the cuffs on his slacks. “I promise not to track on your carpet. I’d just like to wash my face and hands and then explain to you why I’m late and why I’m here looking like a mechanic who has had a bad day.”
Val stepped aside and watched as Eric came in. She directed him to the bathroom and then went in search of a towel.
When she returned a moment later with a big fluffy towel, washcloth, and hand towel, she could hear water running. It sounded like the shower. Was the man taking a shower in her house? Of all the nerve!
Val knocked on the bathroom door. “Eric? I’m leaving a towel for you on the floor outside the door. I’ll be in the living room.”
A muffled “Uh-huh” and something that may have been “thanks” drifted out to her. With hands on hips, Val stared at the bathroom door for a moment, then went to the living room. She turned the television on but kept the sound muted so she could keep an ear out for Eric.
He’d left his shoes outside her front door. She went to retrieve them. But one look at the muddy demi-boots changed her mind. She got a brown paper bag from the kitchen and took some newspapers from the recycling stack. After spreading the bag on the kitchen floor, she got the boots. Careful to keep the newspaper under them, she took the short boots and put them on top of the bag.
“What were you doing? Hiking in the woods on your way over here?”
Suddenly curious about what he had been driving, Val went back to the door and looked out over the balcony to the parking lot below her condo unit. The only vehicle she didn’t immediately recognize was the small Alfa Romeo parked next to her Corsica. That one must be Eric’s.
Val shivered in the cold and quickly stepped back into her condo. She put the kettle on the stove for tea, then stood for a moment, listening to sounds from the bathroom.
“This better be good,” she said.
A few minutes later Eric emerged.
