by Sandra Kitt
Val looked up from where she sat on the sofa and caught her breath. He’d stripped down to a white undershirt that hugged his chest. Well-defined pecs rippled as he walked toward her. Val’s gaze slowly wandered over him. He’d obviously tried to clean the cuffs of his trousers, because they were now wet almost to his knees. There was something deliciously wicked about his bare feet nestled in her white carpet.
Val lifted her gaze back to his.
“That should be a class-four felony,” he said.
“What?”
“The way you do that with your eyes.”
Val ignored the comment. “What happened to you?”
“Do you mean what’s happening to me now or what happened to me on the way over here?”
Val flushed but didn’t dare look anywhere but up, at his face. “Why don’t you have a seat.”
Eric sat at the opposite end of the sofa, and she noticed for the first time that he still held the small towel. She watched him rub it over his head.
“You washed your hair?” She couldn’t control the incredulousness in her voice.
Eric nodded. “Val, I apologize. This is really not how I typically start a date. I was headed over here, when I saw a car pulled over at the side of Interstate 64. There were two little old ladies peering under the hood of their vehicle. I stopped to help them. I should have kept driving.”
Val smiled. “What happened?”
“They were arguing over what was wrong with the car. It was a huge old tank of a thing, the kind of beast Detroit made in the heyday of automaking. One insisted it needed oil, the other said transmission fluid. When Miss Ethel tried to pour oil into a funnel, Miss Clara grabbed it, yelling that that hole was the carburetor, not the oil place. The next thing I know, they were tussling over the funnel and Mr. Eric wound up with oil all over him.”
Val bit her lip to stifle a laugh. The kettle whistled. Val got up and went to the kitchen. She measured tea leaves into a strainer, then poured water into a small ceramic teapot. “And the transmission fluid?”
Eric sighed. “Dripping from the container Miss Clara forgot she left on the bumper.”
“So what was wrong with their car?”
Eric snorted, then got up and took a seat on a high stool at the breakfast bar. He watched Val open a small packet of cookies and place them on a tray that held the teapot and cups.
“They were out of gas.”
Val laughed out loud. She handed Eric a cookie. “Poor baby. That’s what happens when you try to be a Good Samaritan.”
“I called an auto service from my phone and waited for a tow truck to bring them some gas.”
Val looked over at his boots on the floor. “Is that mud?”
Eric sighed and shook his head. “Miss Ethel’s hat wound up over the embankment. Gentleman that I am, I went to retrieve it. The hat, mind you, doesn’t have a speck on it.”
Val chuckled as she poured tea. “God’ll bless you for being kind.”
“I am sorry, Val. I would have called, but I didn’t have your number.” He glanced at his watch. “By the time I get home and get some clean clothes, we’ll have missed brunch. Would you like to try for dinner?”
Val looked at Eric. He really seemed sincere, but this whole deal was just a tad weird. “I don’t know. Maybe we should just—”
“Please don’t say no,” he quietly said. “I meant what I said last night about finally finding you. This feels right to me even though we don’t know each other.”
“Just dinner?”
“A whole date. We’ll do it A Match Made in Heaven style.”
“What does that mean?”
“Do you like adventure? Are you daring and willing to sort of let the chips fall where they may?”
Val eyed him. “That depends,” she said cautiously.
“Nothing harmful. Just fun. We’ll spin the wheel.”
“We’re going to play Wheel of Fortune on a date?”
Eric laughed, then bit into the cookie she’d given him. “Not quite. But something along the same lines. Tell you what. Why don’t you come back to my place with me and we’ll do it there.”
“Excuse me?”
“That didn’t come out quite right,” Eric quickly amended. “Why don’t you follow me to my house. I’ll get changed and then I’ll show you how we let clients spin the wheel when they can’t decide what to do on a date.”
“I don’t think so, Eric.”
“Why not?”
“It sounds hokey.”
“We can always stay here and talk,” he suggested.
“I’m hungry.”
“Then let’s go.”
Val nodded to his head. “You can’t go out with wet hair. You’ll catch pneumonia. Let me get a hair dryer for you.”
“It’s not one of those bonnet ones, is it?”
Val laughed as she walked by him. “Now, that would be a sight to see. Come back to the bathroom.”
Eric grabbed another cookie and then followed Val.
She pointed him into the bathroom he’d used earlier and then ducked into her own bedroom. She emerged a minute later with a blow-dryer.
Handing it to him, she said, “I don’t believe I’m really about to say this, but take your pants off.” When he looked at her with more than a cooperative and speculative smile, Val quickly added, “I’ll toss them in the dryer for a few minutes and at least get the dampness out of the legs.”
Val watched him grin. When he reached for his belt buckle, Val turned her back to him.
“Chicken,” he taunted.
“Sometimes, if the shoes fits, you have to wear it,” she responded.
Eric chuckled. Val closed her eyes and imagined what was being revealed when she heard the zipper on his slacks lower. The sound was very loud in the quiet apartment. A moment later she heard him step out of the slacks.
“You can turn around now,” he said.
“I don’t think so,” she said. Val held a hand out over her shoulder to accept his pants. When she felt the garment in her hands, she sucked in her breath. “I’ll, uh, put these in the dryer. It’s behind the folding doors in the kitchen. I’ll be, uh, in my office.”
“Okay. And, Val...?”
She jumped when his hands lightly clasped her shoulders. She hadn’t heard him step forward. He leaned over her shoulder and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. “Thank you for understanding.”
Val stood rooted to the spot. She heard the bathroom door close and the hair dryer start and still she stood there. Then she turned and stared at the closed portal. “What have I gotten myself into?” she whispered.
She looked at the pants in her hands and her thoughts drifted to the physique the piece of clothing had just recently shielded. Val shook her head. “Lord, what a man.”
An hour later Val was still asking herself what she’d gotten into by joining forces with Eric Fitzgerald. She sat at a table off Eric’s kitchen and watched him pull several contraptions out of a sleek leather portfolio.
“Ready to spin the wheels?” he asked.
“This still sounds dumb to me.”
“Where’s your sense of adventure?”
Chapter 4
Eric watched her squirm. She opened her mouth to answer and then, obviously, edited what she was about to say.
“Tell me,” he said softly.
Brown eyes framed by long lashes looked up at him. Eric closed the portfolio and left the materials on the table. He went to Val. Crouching on his knees so he could look her in the eyes, he took her hands. Slowly, he traced his large hands along the outside of her smooth, soft ones. His gaze, intense and masculine, never left hers as he lifted her hands and placed a kiss first on the backs and then in each of her palms. He felt the fine trembling in her and was encouraged.
Even as he leaned forward, she moved to meet him. He kissed her with a hunger that belied his outward coolness. When he felt Val open her mouth to him, Eric deepened the kiss. His hands left hers and cupped her neck, to
ying with the fine tendrils of her hair that had escaped her upswept style.
His whole body was filled with waiting. He’d been waiting for this woman, for this moment, all his life.
When Eric moved his mouth over hers, devouring her softness, Val moaned and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She felt lighter than air, more joyous than she ever thought possible. She returned his kisses with restless abandon as shock waves rocked through her.
Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, Val knew that she’d never been kissed before, she’d never been held before. Not like this. Never like this. She’d never been loved the way Eric Fitzgerald was loving her with just his mouth. And his hands.
Eric shifted position and rose. Val went with him. They clung to each other. Dizzy with sudden longing, Val traced the contours of his chest. She felt his lips brush her brow and she pressed herself closer to him.
“I want you, Val.”
His husky murmur was almost her undoing. But things were happening too fast. She felt too out of control. Val shook her head and stumbled back a step, out of his arms, out of harm’s way.
Val, breathing just as heavily as Eric, tried to think. She tried to piece together what was happening to her. She stared at Eric, who was trying to catch his breath. Val knew within her heart that she was born to be with this man, this Eric Fitzgerald, whom she’d only just met.
But how could that be? she wondered. How could she feel so strongly, so sure about this?
Val trembled with the passion that flowed within her. It would be so easy to tumble into his arms and find the rapture that his mouth and his hands promised.
“Don’t be afraid, Val,” he whispered. “I won’t hurt you.”
“I know,” she said. And she knew that to be true. Eric would never hurt her. That knowledge came from a place deep within her, a place she was afraid had more surprises waiting for her.
“Eric, we’re... This is going too fast for me.”
Gathering her in his arms, Eric hugged her close and tight. Then he kissed her on the tip of her nose and guided her to the chair she’d vacated.
Eric left her there and reached for the first wheels. He placed two of them in front of Val, then pulled a chair around so he sat close, so close that their knees touched.
“May I have some water, please?” Val asked.
Eric simply smiled, then got up to get her a glass of spring water.
When he left, Val sank back in her chair and tried to sort through her feelings. This was lust, a maximum-strength dose of it, but lust nonetheless. She wanted Eric, wanted him like she’d never wanted any other man. She’d always wondered if she could be the type of woman who thought nothing of a one-night stand. Now she knew. With Eric she’d be willing, more than willing. That thought, coupled with his bold declaration, frightened her.
At the refrigerator, Eric held a glass to the ice maker and thought about Val Sanders. He knew without a trace of doubt that Val was his own match made in heaven. Eric accepted and readily admitted that he was a romantic at heart. In spite of, or maybe it was because of, the bottom-line realities of operating the type of business he ran, he was successful at what he did because he believed in the power of love, of fidelity, and of romance. He ran a business and his business was putting people together.
What worked for his clients was their belief and faith in his computers and videos and newsletters to find for them the perfect love match. For himself, Eric believed that soulmates found themselves by themselves. Sometimes it happened through a chance encounter, other times it happened by sheer coincidence. In his own case, he’d met his soulmate through his dear friend and partner, Netanya.
Eric grinned as he poured bottled water over the crushed ice. First thing in the morning he’d give Netanya a big, fat kiss on the lips for introducing him to her girlfriend.
“Eric, category two has 7-Eleven. We’re supposed to eat food from a convenience store on a date?”
He laughed as he rejoined her at the table. “That’s the whole point of this. It’s something we use at the agency for first-timers who can’t decide what to do on their date. Sometimes regulars will spin the wheels just to add a little variety to their dating life.”
Eric reached for the other wheels. Each one was the size and shape of a pie plate. The outlined wedges contained the names of places or things. A spinner with a point on it was secured to the middle of each wheel.
“The rule,” he said, “is that both parties have to agree to do whatever the wheel says.”
Val eyed him dubiously and peered again at the red circle in her hand.
“That’s category two. What to eat,” Eric explained.
“Uh-huh. And it says pizza, Italian, Chinese, fast-food drive-through, French restaurant, 7-Eleven,” she added, glancing up at him for a moment, “hot dog vendor, TV dinners, grocery store samples. Grocery store samples! That’s really trifling, you know.”
Eric laughed. “It can be fun. You know you can make a meal out of those samples.”
Val looked at him with a don’t-even-think-about-it stare before consulting the wheel again. “She cooks,” she continued, “he cooks, all-you-can-eat buffet, vending machines. You’ve got to be kidding?”
Val reached for the green wheel. Then, incredulous, said, “Walmart is on here as an activity. Who goes on a date to Walmart?”
Chuckling, Eric handed her the yellow wheel. “You’d be surprised. You’re not game?”
“What if the clothes don’t match the activity? What if, for example,” she said, reaching for the green wheel and picking one of the items, “the activity is white-water rafting and the food is French restaurant? That doesn’t match.”
“So what? The idea is to have fun.”
“People actually agree to this?”
“All the time.”
Val picked up and read the entries on the blue category four wheel identified as the transportation. “We don’t have carriages here or a subway system.”
“Those modes of transportation are available in some of the cities where I have offices. You keep spinning until you land on an applicable one.”
“You know what’s missing from the activity wheel?”
“What?” he asked, smiling, indulgent.
“Board games. Like Monopoly or Clue.”
“I haven’t played Monopoly in years,” he said.
“Bet I could beat you,” she taunted.
“Oh, yeah? Well, Miss Real Estate Mogul. We’ll just see about that.”
Eric got up. A few minutes later he returned with a dusty, faded box. He grabbed a paper towel from a rack in the kitchen and wiped the dust from the box.
Val pushed the matchmaking date wheels out of the way.
“A buck says I beat you,” he challenged.
Val shook her head. “Uh-uh. Let’s make the stakes real ones. I win, I get to decide all of where we go on a date. You win, and we’ll spin your little wheels and I’ll chance eating dinner from a vending machine.”
Eric grinned. “You’re on. I’ll be the banker.”
As Val set up the board and he counted out the paper money, Eric smiled to himself. This was a win-win proposition. Even if he lost, he got to be with Val. Eric liked sure bets.
Eric was sitting in jail and Val had just bought a utility, when a loud rumbling and grumbling issued forth from Val’s stomach. Her eyes widened. Clasping one hand over her mouth and the other over her stomach, Val closed her eyes. Her stomach growled again. This time louder.
“I bring you over here and then I proceed to starve you to death,” Eric said.
“Oh, my God,” Val moaned in mortification. “I could die of embarrassment.”
“No need to be embarrassed. That’s just your body’s way of telling me I’ve been a very rude host.” Eric reached for a cordless phone and dialed information for the number of a pizza shop.
“What do you like on your pizza?”
Val shook her head and refused to look at him. Eric chuckled and tugged
at one of her hands until he could entwine his fingers with hers. “You should have told me you were hungry.”
“I did. Back at my place.”
Eric lifted one bushy eyebrow. “Ah, you did, didn’t you? Oh, hi. One large with everything?” The question he directed to Val.
“No onions. No anchovies.”
“One large, extra cheese with everything except onions and anchovies,” he ordered. He gave his last name, address and telephone number, then got up and went to the pantry. He came out and tossed a bag of popcorn in the microwave. A few minutes later he placed a bowl of the hot popcorn in the middle of the game board.
“I could die of mortification,” Val said.
Eric plucked a couple of pieces from the bowl and, leaning forward, he held the popcorn to her. Val opened her mouth to capture the kernels. Eric either held his fingers there a moment too long, or, Val had to concede, maybe she took advantage of the opportunity in the moment. The playful gesture turned into something more serious. Val extended a hand to steady his wrist and capture his fingers. Eric traced the contours of her lips.
Staring into his eyes, Val knew she was lost. Forever.
“Val, you’re playing with fire,” he said.
The gentle warning was enough. If Eric felt half of what she did, he was right on the edge. Val wasn’t willing just yet to push him or herself over into that next dimension. She let his fingers go.
Grabbing a handful of popcorn, she leaned back in her chair. She tossed a piece of the popcorn into her mouth. “It’s your turn,” she said. “Tell me how you got started in the matchmaking business.”
Val watched Eric take a deep breath. His eyes lingered at her mouth. Val licked suddenly dry lips and looked on as Eric swallowed. He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. Before answering, he grabbed a handful of popcorn and picked up the dice to roll his turn.
He tossed two fours and finally got out of jail.
“The idea for the company was born while I was in college,” he began. “I needed some extra money, mostly just to have spending change and beer on the weekends. I saw an ad for an escort service in the student newspaper and answered it.”
Val’s mouth dropped open. “You were an escort?”
