Matchmaker 12: December

"This is supposed to be the big one, right?" I asked as I tapped the side of the final glass with my fingernail.

"That's the one. If you don't like that one, you don't like beer."

I lifted the glass and took a sip, forcing away the smile that wanted to appear on my lips. I said nothing and returned the glass to the holder as I had all the others. Keeping my face neutral, I held his gaze. I could tell he assumed I was so-so on the beer, as I had been on all the others, and that he was questioning my taste. I slowly slid the water I'd ordered with my meal aside, reached across the table, and carefully drew his glass of Purgatory Orange to me.

"I think I'll have this."

He broke into a broad smile before catching Ellen's attention and pointed to the empty spot on the table where his glass had been. A moment later another glass arrived and the sampler disappeared. Shortly after that, our burgers arrived, and I smiled as he watched me bite into the thick patty of meat.

I might be lukewarm on the beers, except for the Purgatory Orange, but the burger made me want to swoon. "Oh, that's good," I purred once I'd swallowed.

"A damned fine burger?"

I snickered. "And a hellishly good beer."

We ate our burgers and talked over beer. I'd intended this dinner to be a thank you for all his help, but the conversation made it clear it'd turned into a date. I didn't mind, but we were struggling through the first date, getting to know each other, bullshit. We'd engaged in a brief, good natured argument over who would pay the check, but he finally relented. I suspected his desire to pay was more about not wanting to appear as a freeloader than any actual problem with having a woman pay for his meal.

"You said you were a recruiter?" he asked. I nodded. "What kind of recruiter?"

What I did for a living was always a sticky subject, but over the years I'd worked out a cover story that was, more or less, true, and didn't make people uncomfortable. "Executive and personal assistants."

"Executive assistant? Isn't that a fancy name for a secretary? And what's a personal assistant?"

"Not in my case. The people I recruit become an invaluable aid to some very wealthy and powerful men and women. Executive assistants handle a lot of business tasks as a proxy for their boss, where a personal assistant does the same, but with personal tasks."

"Oh, like those women in the movies that's always following the guy around with a notebook. Kind of like Pepper Potts in Iron Man?"

I grinned. The two beers were beginning to affect me, and I had to be careful with what I said. "Yeah, something like that."

He shook his head. "I can't imagine living like that, having someone underfoot all the time."

"You were married. Did you feel like... what was her name?"

"My ex-wife? Stephanie."

"Did you feel like Stephanie was underfoot all the time?"

His face twisted into a comical display of thought as he shrugged one shoulder. "No, but I was married to and sleeping with her. She didn't work for me. Is part of the job of the people you place to sleep with their bosses?"

He was skirting very close to the truth. While I wasn't ashamed of what I did, I also knew some people thought of me as little more than a madam. I shook my head. "No. The men and women I recruit are not expected to sleep with my clients."

"Which is why it's apples and oranges. Steph didn't work for me and I didn't work for her." A tiny smile appeared. "Still, there were times I had to go into the garage and work on the Mustang just to get a little breathing room." He looked down and slowly spun his glass on the table. "She had her own way of coping when I got on her nerves."

"Do you still love her?" It seemed to me he was still smarting from her treachery even after all these years.

"No. I just wish I knew what I did that caused her to want to cheat."

"Maybe nothing. The cheating is on her, not you."

He glanced up. "I know. But if she were happy, she wouldn't have cheated, right?"

I shook my head. "You can't think like that. Sometimes people just need validation, and the way they get it makes no sense to anyone but them. What did she say was her reason? Did she give you one?"

"No. She said it was her, not me."

"Then I'd believe her. Trust me, if she blamed you, I have little doubt she'd tell you why in order to justify her actions."

He nodded. "Yeah, so everyone says. You sound like a psychiatrist."

"I have a Ph.D. in psychology, if that matters."

"Really?" I nodded. "I've always wondered, what's the difference between a psychiatrist and a psychologist?"

"Drugs," I replied with a smile. "A psychiatrist is a medical doctor and can prescribe drugs for treatment. A psychologist focuses on behavioral intervention."

He held my gaze for a moment before a small, crooked grin appeared. "I'm not sure I know any more now than I did before."

"Let me explain with an example. A psychiatrist will prescribe drugs to help someone deal with depression. A psychologist will council a couple having marriage trouble."

"Oh. Well, that's clear enough. How did you go from that to recruiting assistants for the rich and powerful?"

I had a canned answer for that as well. "The money is better. My training also helps me read people, which is important considering that the people I place usually become very involved in my client's lives."

He grinned. "Gotcha. What kind of reading does Dr. Lancaster get from me?"

We were moving away from dangerous territory. I hadn't lied to him, but my responses had been carefully worded to give a different impression. "Dr. Lancaster sees a good man, a man who cares about others, someone that enjoys helping people. I suspect he's loyal, dependable, and steady. How am I doing so far?"

He looked into his beer. "I don't know if I'm all that."

"He's also modest, and probably has doubts about himself and his worth, though he shouldn't."

His gaze found mine, but he wasn't smiling. "Anything else?"

I smiled. "That's about it for now. I've only just met you," I replied, though I could have added that he was sexy as hell, and I didn't need a piece of parchment to know that. He grunted. "Are you upset? I didn't mean to upset you."

"No, but this is another example of being careful of what you ask for, you might get it."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, it's okay. You're right. I do sometimes wonder if I'm doing the right thing."

"Let me tell you a secret. As long as you worry about doing the right thing, then you're probably alright. When you don't have any doubts, when you're sure you're right and everyone else is wrong, that's when you need to worry."

His lips twisted into a sideways grin. "Is that advice from Dr. Lancaster?"

"Sure. Free of charge."

He glanced around. "Are you ready?"

I nodded and began to rise. I wasn't staggering, but I could certainly feel my two beers, despite having dinner. I hadn't bothered to check the alcohol content, but the beer clearly had some kick. I was glad he was driving.

I snuggled into his car as we rumbled from Addison to Orland Park. The conversation was getting a little easier, probably from a mixture of alcohol and me becoming comfortable around him. Ryan was a good guy, easy to talk to, and the way he looked and carried himself didn't hurt him either. He pulled into my drive but didn't switch off the car. It was still early, not even eight, and I didn't want the evening to end yet.

"Want to come in?"

He hesitated only a moment before turning the ignition key. I appreciated his silent offer to have a purely professional evening, but at the very least I wanted a good night kiss. I led him into the house.

Can I get you something? I have a nice red in the 'fridge."

"No, I better not. I'm probably at my limit for the evening, and I still need to drive home."

He could stay, the devil on my shoulder whispered in my ear. "Okay. Make yourself comfortable." I thought about pouring myself a glass, as was my custom in the evening, but I changed my mind. I didn't want to come across as a lush.

He settled on the couch. I had the choice of two chairs, but I decided to sit beside him. "Thank you for all the help. I really appreciate it."

"Don't worry about it. It was my pleasure... and I got a free meal out of it."

I smiled. We spent the next twenty minutes or so talking about nothing and everything, allowing the conversation to go where it wished. I had no doubt the alcohol had lubricated my desires, but I still wanted him. I wasn't hung up on how long I had to wait before sleeping with a guy, and I'd had plenty of men scratch an itch as a one-night stand. I had that itch now.

"I should be going," he said as he rose. "I've enjoyed the evening."

I rose with him, slightly disappointed he wasn't going to make a move on me. I was definitely attracted to him, and he was giving off all the cues that he was attracted to me. In talking with him, I'd learned enough that he felt he had to hold himself to a certain standard, and that standard appeared to include being a gentleman.

I walked him to the kitchen door. If he didn't offer to kiss me good night, I'd give him a nudge. He paused at the door and turned back to me. I stepped a little closer.

"I'm going to kiss you good night."

It wasn't a question, but he paused long enough for me to object. I didn't and he cupped my face in his hands before his lips slowly closed over mine. It was the perfect first date kiss. Warm, soft, with a hint of desire and passion, but he didn't try to slip me his tongue or slobber all over me.

"Nice," he whispered as our lips slowly parted.

"Very."

"May I call you?"

"I'll be disappointed if you don't."

"I'll call you tomorrow," he murmured before taking my lips again.

This time the kiss was a little more urgent, his hand going to the back of my head to hold me lightly into the kiss. Goddamn could the man kiss!

He slowly broke the kiss. "I need to go," he whispered, his lips so close to mine I could feel the warmth of his breath.

"You could stay."

"Is that what you want?"

My lips curved in my best seductive smile. "Doctor's orders."

A tiny smile graced his lips. "Far be it for me to question a doctor's order," he rumbled as he lips covered mine.

I smiled as I slowed my cruiser to a crawl, watching the sweaty woman as she ran along the sidewalk. I glanced in my rearview mirror. There was a line of cars approaching, but I had a moment before they reached me. I flipped on my beacons and blipped the siren as I pulled to a stop beside the woman. She trotted to a stop as I rolled the passenger window down.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I'm going to have to place you under arrest."

Brooklyn leaned against the Explorer. She was sweaty and out of breath, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. This wasn't the first time I'd seen her like this, though the other times I was equally sweaty and out of breath, and we weren't at the side of the road. My manhood twitched with the memories.

"On what charge, Officer?" she panted.

"For being sexier than the law allows."

She grinned into my cruiser. "You're going to have to arrest yourself then."

I glanced in my rearview again. Traffic was bottling up behind me, struggling to pass on the two-lane road with the on-coming traffic. "I need to go. I'm blocking traffic. Want a ride?"

She smiled in that way she had, and my cock twitched again. "Yes, but not in your car."

I snickered. "Okay. I'll see you at you place in a few minutes."

She pushed off the Explorer as I began to move, flipping off my strobes as I picked up speed. I glanced at the rearview again, watching as she began to run. She was still about twelve blocks from her house, so I circled around and parked in her drive before taking up a waiting position on her front steps.

I watched as she approached, pounded along the sidewalk at a healthy pace before slowing to a walk as she turned onto the flagstone path leading from the sidewalk to her front door. She placed her hands on her hips as she leaned back and stared at the sky. I rose and ambled down the walk to meet her.

"I'm sweaty," she protested as I pulled her to me.

"I don't care," I replied before I kissed her. Because we were standing in her front yard, I kept it quick and clean, but I was hoping there would be more later.

It'd been almost a week since I'd seen her last. I'd spent the night Thursday, after we'd pulled her car out of impound, and then I'd seen her again on Saturday. I hadn't seen her again until now, though I'd spoken to her twice during the week, and texted her at least a good night each night.

I was struggling with my feelings. I'd enjoyed the hell out of our three romps. Friday had sucked big-time since it'd been nearly one a.m. Friday morning before we'd finished and she'd fallen asleep at my side. It had taken an almost inhuman amount of will to carefully slip out of her embrace and sneak out to my car. I hated doing that, feeling like it had cheapened the experience, but I had to work that morning and I didn't have a uniform at her house. Friday morning, I'd called her about nine, to give her time to wake up, to make sure she was okay and to tell her how much I'd enjoyed her company the previous night. She'd seemed okay, even with me slipping away like a thief in the night, so I'd asked her out for Saturday. She accepted, and since I didn't have to go to work the next day, I'd spent the night and we'd had a leisurely tumble the next morning before I took her to brunch.

A few flirty texts during the day, a couple of long phone calls during the evening, and our nightly series of texts as we prepared for bed, had kept her forefront in my mind. Brooklyn was an amazing woman. Beautiful and smart, I was having a difficult time focusing on my job during the day, and not showing up and scratching at her door like a lost puppy during the evening.

No woman, not even Stephanie, had bewitched me as Brooklyn had, and I didn't understand why. Not that I was complaining. I'd enjoyed the company of women since Steph had carved my heart out with a spoon, but none of them had affected me like Brooklyn. Brooklyn made me feel twenty again, and it had been a long time since I felt that way. If I believed in love at first sight, that's what I'd call it.

I followed her around the side of the house, waiting as she typed a code into the keypad by the garage door to raise it. As the door rumbled up, we ducked under and I followed her into her house.

"Let me shower," she said as I shut the door into the garage.

"Need some help?"

She smiled. "Mmmm... maybe, but if you do, I doubt we'd get to Steven's before he closes."

Not surprisingly, the insurance had totaled her car. She was going to follow me to Steven's so she could recover a few personal items before the car was hauled away. After that, we were going to dinner, and hopefully, she'd spend the night. If I was really lucky, she'd spend the weekend, but I was trying to keep my hopes in check.

"Okay, fine. Next time."

"Promises, promises," she muttered with a smile as she turned away. "Make yourself comfortable and I'll be done quick as I can."

I watched her ass swing as she climbed the steps before I turned my attention to the rest of her house. The first time I'd been here I was looking for a boogieman, and the second time I was distracted. I wandered into the family room. Brooklyn lived a very austere life. Her house was impeccably clean and decorated, but it reminded me of a museum. Beautiful but cold. There were no pictures of family or friends, no personal trinkets, nothing.

I ambled into her office. Like the rest of her house, her desk was clean, without a single paper on the top. The only thing on the desk was her cell phone, a desk phone, and a laptop. Her framed doctorate from the University of Chicago was hanging on the wall, along with a couple pieces of artwork, but that was it. Like the rest of her house, her office was cold, clean, and efficient.

Her desk phone began to ring. I stared at it a moment, trying to decide what to do, and then picked up the handset.

"Brooklyn Lancaster's office."

"May I speak to Ms. Lancaster, please?" a bubbly female asked.

"She's not available. Can I take a message?" I grimaced and quickly circled the desk when I realized I didn't have anything to write on.

"Sure. This is MCR. Mr. Watson has agreed to the rental agreement."

"Just a moment." I quickly tossed a small note pad I found in the middle drawer onto the desk, grabbed a pen from the same drawer, and scribbled, slowly repeating what Bubbles had said.

"Yes," Bubbles continued. "We'll need payment and the security deposit no later than September fifth to secure the rental."

I mumbled back what the woman said as I wrote. "Got it. Anything else?"

"No. If Ms. Lancaster has any questions, have her give us a call."

"She has your number?"

"Let me give it to you, just in case." The woman rattled off a number more quickly than I could write, but then repeated it more slowly so I could check it. "That's my direct number."

"You're name?"

"Terri Adkinson."

"Okay, Ms. Adkinson, I'll make sure she gets the message."

"Thank you, and have a good day."

I hung up the phone, dropped into the chair, and quickly recopied the note onto another sheet of paper so it was more legible than my normal cop short-hand chicken scratch. I wadded up my first note, returned the notepad and pencil to the desk, and rose. I rolled my eyes. There wasn't even a trash can by her desk.

I spent a couple of minutes looking for her kitchen garbage and had just thrown away the wadded note when I heard her bumping around upstairs. I paused at the bottom of the steps.

"May I come up?" I called.

"Just a minute. I'm still getting dressed!"

"I don't mind if you don't!"

I heard her giggle. "Okay, sure!"

I clomped up the steps and paused at her door. "Someone called while you were in the shower. A Terri Adkinson with MCR. She said Mr. Watson had agreed to the cabin rental and they needed payment by the fifth of September. She left a number if you have any questions," I said from the hall.

"Okay," she replied from within the room. "You can come in if you want."

I wanted to ask if she was taking a trip, but it was none of my business. I stepped around the corner, pausing in the room as she buttoned her shirt. "Damn..." I drawled, drawing the word out and making it into two syllables.

"What?"

She was wearing jeans that fit her just right, along with a butter colored shirt. Her hair was still wet and a mess from her shower, but I was starting to realize that she could pull off any look, from a suit to sweaty running clothes, and everything in between.

"Nothing. Just admiring the view."

"Flirt."

"No, really. You look good in anything." I paused for a heartbeat. "And nothing at all, for that matter."

She snickered. "Oh, stop it."

I grinned as she stepped close and bussed me on the lips before disappearing into the bathroom. "What do you want me to do with this note?" I asked as I flapped the piece of paper.

"Put it on my desk?" she called over the whistling roar of her hair dryer.

"Are you sure you can stand having a piece of paper on your desk?"

I saw her smile in the mirror. "So long as I don't have to go back in there!"

"I'll bring you your phone then!"

"Thanks!"

I trotted down the steps and walked into her office, tucking the paper under the corner of her laptop so it wouldn't accidentally get lost and picked up her phone. I started back up the steps but decided to wait. A few minutes later she appeared, and I handed her the cell.