Make Me A Match (The Matchmaker) (11 page)

“I’ll be fine, Sis, at the cottage in France. Come on…be
happy for me.”

As the girls gathered around the telly, I moved toward the
only open window and climbed out onto the fire escape. The evening air was cool
and tempting, easing my flushed skin. I set my pop on the ledge and climbed the
ladder to the rooftop. The night stars twinkled above, a massive universe full
of so much more than we could have ever imagined. In the distance, I could hear
the soft crash of waves against the lakeshore, so much like an ocean it was
tempting to believe one was at the sea.

“Hey,” a familiar voice called out, but not Emma.

I tamped down my inexplicable disappointment and turned to
see Lizzie picking her way across the rooftop in ridiculously high heels. She’d
fall and kill herself, and of course Emma would blame me.

“Are you all right?” she asked, coming to stand beside me.

I forced myself to smile. “Yes. Fine, thanks.”

She smiled back at me, a dazzling smile, and for one
ridiculous moment I wondered why Emma couldn’t smile at me that way. What I
should have been wondering was why the hell I couldn’t have had the luck to
deal with Lizzie instead. I walked her toward the middle of the roof where two
beach chairs sat. Yes, it would be much easier to deal with Lizzie, and not
because she had a ready smile and pleasant attitude, but because I wasn’t
attracted to her like I was Emma.

“Not interested in watching the movie? It’s a romantic
comedy, I know you guys love those.”

I gave her a hesitant smile. It was obvious she was jesting
with me, yet I didn’t understand her joke. I never watched movies. Never
watched the telly, either. I’d been too busy training. Besides, we didn’t have
television sets at the Consulate.

“So, how long will you be here?”

I rubbed the back of my neck, hating small talk. She wanted
to know something and I wished she’d just get it over with already and ask.
“Not long.”

“And you’re taking Emma to France for her protection?”

I nodded slowly, unsure what exactly Emma had told her. She
was quiet for a long moment and I had a feeling it was uncommon for her.
Trying, no doubt, to decide what to divulge.

“She wants me to go stay with our grandmother until she gets
back.”

I didn’t bother to mention Emma wouldn’t be returning. It
would only cause more problems. “Yes, it would be best if you did.”

“Our mother was very romantic, you know. She named us after
Jane Austen characters.”

I remained silent, unsure what she wanted me to say. I had a
feeling there was more to this conversation than it seemed. And I had a feeling
there was more to Lizzie than what she seemed. That scatterbrained personality
might have just been a facade after all.

“It killed her when our father left. She started going from
guy to guy, looking for affection, I guess.” She didn’t finish, but she didn’t
need to. I already knew. What I didn’t know was why she was admitting so much
to a stranger. I felt almost as if I were betraying Emma merely by listening.
There was no doubt she would be furious with her sister for telling me their
dark family secrets.

“Emma is a lot like our mom.”

I slid her a glance. Were we talking about the same person?

She laughed, apparently reading the shock upon my face. “Not
that she goes from man to man. But she’s a complete romantic, deep down. She
does
believe in true love and all that,
she just won’t admit it. When she loves, she loves completely. With her very
being. And if she lost that love, she’d be crushed.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I finally asked, feeling
extremely uncomfortable.

“Because I see the way she looks at you. She’s attracted to
you, it’s obvious. And now she tells me you’re taking her to some cottage in France.
Well, I can’t help but worry. She’s the only sibling I have.”

I wanted to laugh. She wasn’t worried about demons; she was
worried about me breaking Emma’s heart. “There is nothing between us, Ms.
Watts. There never will be. Never. I can promise you that.”

A relationship went against the rules, and I never went
against the rules, no matter how much I wanted to. Hell, and I wanted to,
really, really wanted to.

Lizzie stood. “Good. Just make sure Emma knows too.”

I felt Emma’s presence before I heard the creak of the
ladder she climbed.

Lizzie turned toward her sister. “Hey, is the movie
starting?”

“Yeah.” Emma stepped onto the roof, glancing warily between
the two of us, obviously wondering what we’d been speaking about. “I’ll be down
in a minute, Liz.”

Lizzie didn’t hesitate, merely threw us a smile and
disappeared, her heels tapping against the metal ladder, then silence as she
returned to the flat. For one moment we merely stood there staring at each
other, the whisper of the wind and occasional rumble of cars below the only
sound in the night.

Finally she moved, stepping closer toward me. “Never, huh?”

I cringed. Damn it all, she’d heard. But from the landing
below, she shouldn’t have been able to hear a word. Unless…her powers were
growing much more quickly than I’d expected. Usually it took months, even
years, for a Matchmaker’s senses to heighten.

Her lips lifted into a wry grin as she paused a few feet
from me. “No need to worry, Owen, I won’t be throwing myself at you again. In
fact, I just kissed you as a thank-you.”

She was merely reacting to the blow to her ego, but my
hackles still rose. She may as well have kicked me in the balls. “To thank me?”

She nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. “And my
sister’s wrong, I’m not like my mother at all. So, you don’t have to worry. End
of story.” She started to turn away, but not before I saw the look of hurt in
her eyes. Just as I thought…Emma lashed out when injured. She was bloody human,
after all. I should have let her go, but my conscience wouldn’t let me.

“Emma, wait.” I latched on to her wrist. I only meant to
reassure her, but as she fell into me, Hell, I no longer cared about rules. I
cupped the back of her head. Before she could protest, I pressed my lips to
hers. It wasn’t the demanding kiss that we’d shared inside. No, this was slow,
seductive.

So seductive that Emma slid her arms around my neck, her
lush body sinking willingly into mine. Hell, so much for not getting close. She
tasted sweet…like pop and strawberries. This was getting too deep, too fast.
Dredging up all the strength I could, I tore my mouth from hers. For a long
moment, we merely stood there within each other’s arms.

I knew I had to explain something. “It’s not that I’m not
attracted to you, Emma. It’s that…”

Her breath was warm upon my neck, so distracting. “What?”

“The problem is that I am…too much.”

She raised her gaze to mine. The shock there was almost
amusing. How could she not know?

“We work together,” I said. “It would get messy. We just can’t.”

“Messy.” She pressed her palms against my chest and pushed
away, stepping back. “Right. I know. Which is why I’m not going to France with
you.”

I wanted to laugh at her comment, until I realized she was
completely serious. She turned and started toward the ladder. Stunned, I just
watched her go. She was going to deny her powers? Deny what she was born to do?
I gritted my teeth, glaring at her back. She might be able to ignore her job,
but I couldn’t ignore mine. I wouldn’t.

Emma was bloody well going to France, even if I had to carry
her onto the plane. But I wasn’t worried; I knew the perfect way to get her to
agree. “Well then,” I called out. “I’ll just move in here.”

Emma

How the heck I’d ended up at the O’Hare airport, I wasn’t
sure. Having already gone through security, I stood silently by, watching Owen
hand over his briefcase and stroll confidently through the metal detectors as
if they wouldn’t dare go off. Sure enough, he made it through, while I’d set
the thing off twice before finally being deemed safe enough to fly.

But then, why would they worry over him? He didn’t exactly
fit their profile. Handsome, dressed in the best of suits. While I apparently
looked shifty in my jeans and military-style jacket, and deserved a thorough
pat-down.

The glasses and suit didn’t deter females, either. More than
one woman looked his way, even women in their thirties and forties were
watching him with obvious interest, much to my annoyance. Although why it
bothered me, I wasn’t sure. He was my Protector, nothing else, as he’d made
adamantly clear.

You like him,
Lizzie’s
suggestion taunted in my mind
.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall.
Damn Lizzie for always being so perceptive. I could admit, at least to myself,
that there was something about the frustratingly straitlaced man that intrigued
me. Something about his presence that calmed me. Something about the way we
kissed that made me want more.

I turned my head away from the security gates as a heated
flush washed over me. Lord, I could hardly think about that kiss without
blushing. I hadn’t been kissed like that since…ever. It was like I was in the
middle of one of Lizzie’s freaking romance novels. I scoffed, folding my arms
against my chest. More like a Nicholas Sparks book in which someone would end
up dead at the end. That would be my luck.

“We have an hour,” Owen stated as he paused beside me,
although I’d felt his presence even before I turned to face him. “And then
we’ll be on our way.”

“Great,” I muttered. “Wonderful.”

A supposed lifetime at Owen’s side. Just perfect.

Owen frowned, sensing my surly attitude, but then I was
doing little to hide it.

“Give me a break, okay?” I whispered, stepping closer to him
so we wouldn’t be overheard. “You can’t expect me to be excited about giving up
my life.”

But I knew he thought I should be thrilled. He believed my
life was pointless, and therefore it wasn’t any big deal to leave it all
behind. “What you’re doing is for the greater good.”

“Yeah, well, what about my greater good?” So, that came out
sounding completely selfish, but weren’t all those self-help books Mom read
always saying how you had to think about yourself before you could help others?

“I hardly see how giving up a life of hiding in shrubbery
and destroying marriages is not for your greater good.”

Heated anger flushed through my body. “Stop vilifying my
job! What I did was help women move on. I gave them the reason they needed to
leave a soul-sucking marriage and start a new life.”

He quirked a brow. “Ah, is that why you’re so cheerful all
the time? Why, you’re a bloody martyr.”

“Screw you.”

I turned and trudged toward the chairs that overlooked the
landing strip, making sure I didn’t touch anyone. He’d been an ass ever since
our second kiss, and I knew he was kicking himself about our lapse in judgment.
But that didn’t mean he needed to take it out on me. Dropping my carry-on to
the floor, I slumped into an empty seat.

In the middle of the night the airport certainly wasn’t
bustling, but there were still enough travelers that my mind buzzed with
romantic feelings from those around me. The aspirin I’d taken earlier helped,
turning the passion into a low murmur instead of a pulsing pain, but the
medication was wearing off already. And Owen sure as heck wasn’t helping.

How could he be such a jerk?

We’d kissed. So what? But even as I thought the words, I
knew them to be false. Those kisses had been so much more than anything I’d
experienced before. I took in a deep, trembling breath. Yet, here he was acting
as if nothing had happened. Heck, maybe that kiss had been nothing to him.

“Would you like to discuss anything?” he asked, settling in
the chair beside me.

I rolled my eyes. He was so clinical about it. As if we
could have a scientific conversation about our lapse in good judgment. Soon,
he’d be breaking out charts and graphs that showed me exactly why the kiss had
been a bad idea.

“Nothing at all.” I smiled up at him, refusing to
acknowledge it.

He watched me warily, obviously not trusting my response in
the least. I was a female, so of course I wanted to discuss every intimate
detail of our brief kissing episodes. No way was I giving him the satisfaction.
After a few minutes in which I remained stubbornly silent, he stood.

“I need to make a call. Stay put.”

I gritted my teeth, the response automatic when someone
demanded anything of me. Too many days with my grandmother. As Owen strolled
toward the windows, pulling out his cell phone, I tried to relax.

So, I was giving up my life and career to chase after fate.
It would only be for a while…a year, two, tops. Right? I had no doubt I would
be back. This would all blow over. They’d realize I wasn’t for them and send me
back. Or, if everyone were as straitlaced as Owen, I’d go insane and murder
them all.

The problem was now that I was leaving…there was a part of
me that was thrilled. To be honest, I figured I’d be stuck in our small town
until Lizzie graduated. I’d started online schooling long ago and was scheduled
to graduate early. But I’d always hoped, dreamed, of seeing the world, and
because of him, I would.

Owen
.

Unwillingly, my gaze went to the guy. He had one shoulder
propped against the glass windows, his lips moving as he spoke on the cell
phone. I couldn’t help but wonder what he was talking about, who he was talking
to. He was frowning, so he was probably talking about me. Damn it all, how I
wished I didn’t notice how well his dark jacket fit his broad shoulders. How he
rubbed the back of his neck when he was upset. Wished I didn’t remember how he
had not only taken my pain, but actually taken my wound. I sighed and tore my
gaze away. He’d only taken my pain because it had been his job. End of story.

“He’s totally for me,” a woman said, tossing her carry-on to
the floor and sinking into a chair a couple down from mine. She had a cell
phone pressed to her ear. In her thirties, she was a pretty blonde with a
petite body, and stylish clothes that said she had money. I noticed the suit
and briefcase, and assumed she was returning or going on a work trip.

“Henry is gorgeous, makes great money.”

“But there have to be other things to base a relationship on
than attraction,” I could hear the other person on the line say.

“Amen,” I whispered, before realizing just how odd it was
that I could hear the woman on the other end.

“Excuse me?” the woman snapped, glaring my way.

“Nothing, sorry.”

She turned her back to me. “Some people are so rude.”

“I know,” I replied sweetly. “Like people who talk loudly on
their cell phones in public places.”

“Listen.” The woman jumped to her feet, her face flushed as
she grabbed my arm.

“No, you listen.” I jumped up too, but the moment I stood,
the room faded.

Suddenly I was floating in an office, cubicles filling the
room like dominoes. The soft murmur of conversation, typing, and ringing of
phones combined together in an unnatural hum that vibrated through me. People
rushed by, looking frazzled and unhappy. I shivered, crossing my arms over my
chest. Why was I here?

“I just don’t think it
will work,” I heard a man whisper.

I spun around. There,
hidden behind a row of filing cabinets, was the blonde. A tall man with dark
hair stood next to her, his face frustrated and serious.

“Tell me why, when you
know there’s a connection,” the blonde whined.

Ugh, there was nothing more nauseating than a woman begging
a man to love her.

“Gabby, we have
nothing in common.”

In other words, she’d slept with him, he got what he wanted
and had no need for her anymore, while she had mistaken their one-night stand
for true love.

“We work well together,”
she whispered, desperate. “You can’t fight this.”

“I can.” He took a
step back. “I’m sorry.”

When he started down
the hall, she raced after him.

“Bill, please,” she
called out.

I started after them, wanting to see how the train wreck
would end, but a sharp pain in my chest stopped me cold. I stumbled, falling to
my knees. The cubicles disappeared. The entire world disappeared and suddenly I
was rushing through darkness. My consciousness hit my body like an airplane
hitting the ground. My eyes opened, the fluorescent lights unnaturally bright.
I gasped for air as the airport around me wavered in and out of focus.

“Don’t you dare speak to me like—”

“Shut up. Just shut up!” My head thumped, the pain almost
bringing me to my knees. Sparks of light danced before my eyes as the entire
room spun. Frantically, I looked for Owen. He was hanging up as he headed
toward me, worry in his green eyes. He knew, somehow, that I’d had a flash. But
what sort of flash? It hadn’t been red hearts and warm feelings like Tony and
Paula. No, this was cold and terrifying and lonely. So lonely.

“The man at work, the man you’re talking about…” I took in a
deep breath, and focused on Blondie once more. “Bill. He’s not for you.”

The minute the words left my mouth, I knew them to be right.
It was exactly what the fates, universe, God, whatever it was called, wanted me
to say.

The woman paled. “How do you know Bill?”

“I just do.” I raked my hands through my hair. “Just stop
fighting it for my sake and yours.”

The woman crossed her arms and glared at me. “I don’t know who
put you up to this—”

“Whatever,” I snapped. “All I know is that you’re going to
be miserable if you don’t accept the inevitable.” I knew I sure as heck was. A
wave of nausea hit me. My legs trembled, my heart racing. I needed to sit, or
lie down. I needed something. “He doesn’t want you, he never will.”

“Where the hell do you get—”

I held up my hand, cutting the woman off. “Please, take my
advice. If anyone needs a reality check, it’s you.”

The woman gasped, her face flushing in outrage. “How dare
you!”

Suddenly, Owen was there and I could admit I was relieved.
He’d know what to do. “All right, come along.” He slipped his arm around my
waist and practically lifted me, leading me toward the other side of the
waiting area. “You seriously need to work on your bedside manner. Now, sit.”

He released his hold and I slumped into a vacant chair,
feeling very much like a petulant child. I could only hope Blondie would accept
Bill wasn’t her match. I couldn’t stand to be haunted by her for the rest of my
life.

“Can’t I leave you alone for five minutes?”

I glared up at him. “I was doing my supposed job! I think.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “There is a way to broach
the subject—”

“And how would I know that?” I surged to my feet, only to
wobble as the room spun. There was his arm again, slipping around my waist and
holding me upright. He was there; it was his job. I couldn’t read anything into
it. I shoved his arm away and slumped into my chair. But it would be a cold day
in hell before I’d admit I needed him.

“You’re right,” he said softly. “We haven’t discussed much,
but once we get to France, there will be people there who can teach you—”

“People? It won’t be you?” I didn’t know why that stung, but
it did. Heck, I didn’t even like Owen but I was used to him. He was the only
familiar thing in my new life.

“I’ll be there, of course.”

Relieved, I rested my elbows on my knees and my head in my
hands, although I wasn’t sure why. Dang headache wouldn’t go away and the more we
spoke, the harder it pounded. Why did I have a feeling when we reached France,
he was going to dump me off in the arms of the first capable trainer he found?

“A headache?”

I nodded.

“I’ll get you some aspirin and water, but please, for the
love of all that’s holy, keep your mouth shut while I’m gone.”

Watching him stroll so confidently away, I glared at his
back. I had to resist the urge to stick out my tongue. Easy for him to be so
nonchalant; he didn’t have a million lovesick feelings clamoring through his
head. Maybe the attraction I felt for Owen wasn’t even my own; maybe it was the
result of a mixture of the emotions swirling around me. I just needed to go to
France, and hopefully I could get some answers.

“You look like you could use a drink.”

I jumped, startled by the sudden voice. Heck, I barely had
time to register the guy before he was settling in the chair directly next to
me. Black dress shoes, dark jeans, a dark gray sweater, gorgeous face. His lips
lifted into a slow and sexy grin, as if he knew exactly how hot he was, whereas
Owen either didn’t know or didn’t care about his looks.

“Can I help you?” I asked warily.

He leaned back in his chair, relaxed, at ease. Lord, he was
gorgeous, and not in an understated way like Owen. No. This man was the
brooding, mysterious kind of gorgeous. Dark hair, cold blue eyes that sent a
shiver over my skin. I’d dealt with men like him before, and they were as
dangerous as hell. Men who had nothing to lose.

“Do I know you?” I tried again.

He held out his hand, large palms, perfectly manicured nails.
Reluctantly, I slid my fingers into his firm grip. “’Tis my pleasure,” he said
in a foreign accent. French, was my guess. Slowly, he brought my hand to his
lips and pressed a soft kiss to the back of my fingers.

“Seriously?” I said, pulling away, laughing. “That’s your
opening?”