A Perfect Match: (Raining Romance Series)

A Perfect Match

Lynn Cooper

Copyright © 2015 Lynn Cooper

All rights reserved.

The storm of desire brewing in his eyes matched the one raging outside.  The thunder had rolled in again, and the rain was pelting hard against the window panes.

IT WAS RAINING AGAIN.  For fourteen days straight the sky had been filled with billowy, dark clouds blocking out the sun.  Rolling thunder boomed at eight-second intervals shaking the earth.  Jaslyn Scarpa’s body literally vibrated with electricity. Her eyes widened in amazement as zigzag flashes of lightning lit up the eastern horizon—a glorious display of nature’s power and fury.  The last two weeks had felt like one long Fourth of July. This morning, Jaslyn had good reason to celebrate.  Beth from Woman-Power Temp agency had just called.  A six-week assignment for an administrative assistant had come open on the New Cut Road corridor.  The job was hers for the taking. Zena Starkler, a German electronics manufacturing company and the key to her immediate financial security, was a mere ten-minute car ride away.

Squealing her excitement, she pulled on a silky, pink shell top and loosely secured her hair at the nape of her neck with a dainty matching ribbon.  Jaslyn’s parents constantly raved over her raven hair.  Her father said her long, wavy locks were her crowning glory.  Even though she wasn’t conceited in the least, Jaslyn agreed.  Her dark, shiny tresses enhanced her porcelain skin and offset her sapphire-blue eyes.

Seated at her dressing table, she sang with gusto while applying mascara and a touch of blush.  She couldn’t carry a tune in a paper sack, but it didn’t stop her from belting out upbeat lyrics at the top of her lungs whenever the mood hit.

The roar of her roommate’s displeasure made her jump and drop her compact.  The compressed mineral powder peppered mauve-colored sprinkles across the cream-colored carpet.

“For the love of God, Jaslyn! I can’t take any more of your screeching and caterwauling.”

“Sorry, Kitsy.  I can’t help but sing when I’m happy,” she said, smiling.  She watched her best friend slump sleepily against the doorframe to her bedroom.

Kitsy Meadows scratched her head and yawned.  “Yeah, I know.  The only problem is, you’re chronically cheerful.  Early morning, noon and night, you have a song on your lips.  Which would be okay if you could hit even one note correctly.  But you can’t, so shut it!”

“Well, I might not be Barbra Joan Streisand, but at least I don’t go around with a constant scowl on my face.  So, take that, Miss Grumpy Pants.”

Jaslyn and Kitsy had been besties since the third grade and roommates since high school graduation.  The saying “opposites attract”
never rang truer than in the case of their friendship.  Jaslyn was sunshine and daffodils to her friend’s gloom and doom. 

Kitsy snorted.  “The only thing you and Streisand have in common is you’re both Jewish.  So, Mazel Tov and all that.  It don’t make you a singer.”

“One doesn’t have to be a singer in order to sing.”

Arms spread wide, palms up, Kitsy exclaimed to an invisible crowd, “And there you have it, folks, optimism at it’s worst.”

Ignoring the sarcasm, Jaslyn stood and slipped into a black, pencil skirt and black pumps.  Her ensemble was complete.  She twirled several times and gave her roommate a ta-da look.  “What do you think? Is this the perfect first-day-on-the-job outfit or not?”

A reluctant grin played at the corner of Kitsy’s mouth.  “You look perfectly perky.”  Cocking her head to the side, she paused and added with a near smile, “Pretty and professional, too.”

Jaslyn beamed.  “Look at you being all positive and complimentary.”

“Don’t get used to it.  A fresh wave of grouchiness could roll in at any time.”

“Understood,” Jaslyn said playfully, pinching Kitsy’s cheek.  “But I love you anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah.  Get to work, why don’t ya?”

“I’m headed out now.  There’s a fresh pot of coffee and homemade blueberry muffins on the counter.  See you this evening!  And, Kitsy, would it kill you to try and enjoy your day?”

Pulling the front door closed, she heard her friend’s muffled voice.  “Yep, it just might.”

THE MONSOON-LIKE DOWNPOUR HAD turned to a softer, soothing shower of fat droplets, gleefully splashing against Jaslyn’s windshield.  She sang along with the radio, enjoying the scenic countryside.  Both shoulders of New Cut Road were lined with huge oak trees.  Their leaves shined a brilliant, bright green that only comes after a hard rain.  She often counted her blessings while driving, and this morning was no different.  To her, each day held the hope of happiness, the promise of peace and the opportunity for great success.  She was positive her attitude towards life was practically innate.  It was part of her heritage.  She’d been raised on it.

Her great grandfather, Soeran Scarpa, was an Auschwitz survivor.  It was January 27, 1945 when the American Fourth Armored Division of the Third Army liberated him and all the other Jewish prisoners from that horrid, God-forsaken concentration camp. Soeran fell to his knees and kissed the snow-dusted boots of the soldier nearest him. 

Her eyes never failed to brim each time she recalled the story—one her great grandfather, grandfather and father had told many times.  One she would someday share with her own children.  The soldier’s name was Private Gunnar Bennett.  His heroics and merciful actions would live forever in her heart and those of her family.  On that brutally cold morning, Gunnar gently pulled her great grandfather to his feet, wrapped his arm around his waist and helped him make his way to the transport trucks.  When it was Soeran’s turn to board the massive vehicle, he was too weak and emaciated from starvation to lift his foot onto the step-up.  Gunnar scooped him up with ease, placed him on a side bench and covered his frail, shivering body with a blanket.  Before turning away to help the others, the soldier—or angel of mercy as her family called him—reached inside his army uniform shirt-pocket, pulled out a chocolate bar and gave it to Soeran.

According to her great grandfather, the taste of that rich, sweet candy wrapped in kindness and freedom was the greatest gift he had ever received.

As Jaslyn turned into the parking lot of Zena Starkler, the irony of the dark, blood-red brick building with its gigantic German flag flying high wasn’t lost on her.  Although it had been seventy years since the holocaust and near annihilation of her people, she couldn’t help but shiver. 

Reprimanding herself, she parked the car and took a deep breath.  If her family had taught her anything, it was to always have a heart of forgiveness, happiness and hopefulness.  History has its place and should never be forgotten.  But, just as the modern-day generation of Caucasians had nothing to do with slavery and the past mistreatment of African Americans, this German-based company and its employees had nothing to do with the past persecution and extermination of Jews. 

It was a brand new day, and Jaslyn was thankful for this assignment.  Nothing or nobody could make her feel any different.

THE STORM OUTSIDE HAD quieted, but the one inside Zena Starkler was just firing up.  Rhein Birkner was railing against and raging at anything or anybody in his path. He was a force of hurricane magnitude.  Not one of his fifty employees dared make eye contact when he blew by them. Michael Wiese—legal eagle, closest friend and head of acquisitions—was right on the mogul’s heels.  Michael was a head shorter than his CEO.  His stubby arms flailed goofily at his sides as he struggled to keep stride with the furious man in front of him.  Slamming his office door behind them, Rhein whirled on Michael.

“There is no way in hell that bastard Voldemar could have legitimately outbid me!”

“Well, it would seem he did.”  He shook his head, tentatively placing a consoling hand on Rhein’s shoulder.  “As much as we’d like to think it, we’re not invincible, this company isn’t infallible and we can’t always have our way about everything.”

“Everything?
I only want my way about
one
thing.  Do you not understand how badly I needed this?”

Michael blew out a hard breath.  When he spoke, his voice was soft, almost a whisper.  “Buying up all the medical facilities in the world won’t save Sahara.  What she needs can’t be bought.  It has to be freely given.”

“So I have been told repeatedly.  What I have
not
been told is where this life-saving gift is to come from.  Tell me, Michael, who will make such a selfless donation?
If
—and it is a big fucking if—the offer ever comes, will it be a perfect match?”

Shaking his head, Michael’s eyes misted.  “I don’t know.  An answer will present itself but, until it does, you mustn’t give up hope,” he said, checking his phone.  “Bree just texted me.  The temp’s here.  Should I tell her to come back tomorrow?”

“No.  Have Bree show her to my office.  There is work to be done.”

JASLYN FELT RATHER BREATHLESS as she and the lovely receptionist, Bree, took a whirlwind tour of the company.  The petite redhead talked fast, spastically pointing out one thing and another.  By the time they returned to her desk in the lobby, Jaslyn knew the precise location of every bathroom, breakroom, copier machine and watercooler in the building.

The excitement, combined with brisk walking, had made Jaslyn thirsty.  While Bree’s thumbs flew over the QWERTY keyboard on her smartphone, Jaslyn grabbed a tiny paper cup and filled it with spring water from the cooler adjacent to the breakroom.  She had just taken a sip when the smartphone pinged with the awaited response.

Bree’s eyelids flitted nervously for a second, and her facial expression turned odd.  Jaslyn couldn’t decide if the look was one of pity or angst.  Either way, it caused a fluttering in the pit of her stomach.  Her palms felt sweaty as she crumpled and discarded the cup in a nearby receptacle.

The fluttering turned into full-blown summersaults when the look on Bree’s face grew stranger still.  “Mr. Birkner is ready for you now.”

Jaslyn nodded and fell into step with the receptionist.  When they reached an enormous office with a gigantic, gold-carved plaque that read RHEIN BIRKNER CEO on the door, Bree grabbed Jaslyn’s forearm.  “Whatever you do, don’t piss him off.  He can be a bit of a Nazi at times.”  Without another word, Bree took off, leaving Jaslyn trembling and wide-eyed. 

Taking a deep, steadying breath to calm the clamoring of her heart and the knocking of her knees, she timidly tapped on the door.  From the other side she heard a deep, gruff voice.  “Enter.”

She rested her clammy hand on the doorknob, then paused before turning it.  Inwardly, she scolded herself.  This nervousness and apprehension was ridiculous.  Bree must have been exaggerating.  Jaslyn had been working temp jobs for the last five years.  Almost every assignment came with first-day jitters.  There was always some employee who got a kick out of teasing or scaring the temp.

That’s all this was. 

It was senseless to let unsubstantiated fear sap her joy.  Just an hour ago, she had been elated over this opportunity.  Now, she was letting someone else’s behavior influence her own.  No, Jaslyn would proceed as she always did, looking on the bright side and seeing the good in everyone.  She would behave normally, cheerfully and optimistically.  Winning over grouches was her forté.  After all, she lived with the world’s biggest grump, didn’t she? How bad could Mr. Birkner be?

She jumped when the door was suddenly jerked open.  Because her hand was still on the knob, the unexpected force caused her to lose her balance and slam face-first into the CEO’s chest.

Despite being stunned, her senses were sharp.  A dreamlike state settled over her as she inhaled deeply.  Mr. Birkner smelled fresh and clean, woodsy and outdoorsy.  His scent was in direct contrast to the expensive three-piece suit he was wearing.  Jaslyn had seen one just like it on the cover of a men’s fashion magazine while standing in line at the grocery store.  Her gorgeous—if only temporary boss—was wearing a Newman by Valentino.  The dark charcoal material with a lighter grey pinstripe had obviously been tailor-made for his fine physique. It fit him like a second skin.

Her mind took a fast detour to Fantasy Town where she pictured herself wrapped in his bulking, muscular arms, her head resting on his broad, masculine shoulders.

The feel of his long, strong fingers digging into her upper arms snapped her back to reality.  A slight chill made her shiver when he took a step back, separating her from the warmth of his body.  She nearly fainted when his dark, piercing eyes bore into hers.

“If you are done sniffing me, we have work to do.”  Turning, he walked to his desk.

Jaslyn wasn’t sure what to make of this sexy man.  For a few seconds, she watched him shuffle through a stack of papers.  He kept his handsome head down, acting as if she weren’t in the room.  Her breath caught in her throat when a stray lock of thick, glossy black hair—the same shade as her own—fell across his forehead.  Her fingers itched to smooth it back into place. 

As he continued to ignore her, she began to feel antsy again.  Determined to behave naturally, she pushed the nervousness away.  The ice needed to be broken, and what better way to do it than to introduce herself?

She cleared her throat.  “Mr. Birkner, it seems we haven’t been officially introduced yet.”  Extending her hand over his desk, she said, “My name’s Ja—”

His head snapped up.  “Your name is not important.  Sit.”