by Kiki Howell
"Samantha Lynn Morgan!" her mother scolded. "Sylvia traveled several hours to be here. She took the time to match you up. You will hear her out, say thank you, and go on a date. End of story!"
Sam deflated. She didn't feel like fighting it out today. In fact, she rarely did, hence the parade of one bad date after another thanks to her mother's meddling. The woman was obsessed with getting to plan at least one wedding in her life. Not that she wouldn't be amazing at it, but Sam didn't view marriage the same way she did. Her mother had had the fortune to meet an amazing man, be swept off her feet, and remain blissfully married for many years until her husband, Sam's father, passed away unexpectedly. Sam didn't want to take the risk of what she watched her mother go through after her father had died, one day there, the next gone with no warning thanks to a car accident.
"Okay, mom."
"I hear you, Sam," Sylvia said, interrupting her sad thoughts, "loud and clear. I've met a few meatheads in my time, too. So, I get it, but to prove you wrong, that a man with muscles can have brains, as I was saying, I have a savior for you. But, it is going to be tricky making this happen."
"I really don't need a savior," Sam mumbled, earning her a look from her mother that warned hush or you won't get a piece of this flour, sugar, and butter I have tortured into a cake as I've dealt with your nonsense.
Her mother a stress baker, she'd been getting that look for years. However, she'd yet to be denied a piece of cake, and had the figure to prove it. However, it wasn't her fault the world's view of women paired skinny with beautiful. She remained happy with herself, and while on her yoga mat she could teach women about loving themselves as they were.
Sylvia had stopped, and Sam surmised her eagerness by the quirk in her eyebrow and crooked, but tight smile that the woman contemplated this latest arrangement of hers with great excitement. Perched on the edge of her chair, hands clasped tight in front of her, eyes wide, smile growing, this professional made Sam more than a little nervous as to the diabolical plan she'd cooked up.
Sam caved. She'd take the date, whomever it was with, and get the cake, the one bright spot in this whole episode. She'd appease her desperate mother, and then move on, maybe not visit for a few weeks. She'd buy her own cake next time she had a craving for one.
Maybe the guy would be all right, if Sylvia were being truthful that he had both brains and brawn. If the woman truly had found such a miracle guy, then maybe she'd get laid, too. A two for one special: her mother happy and hopeful for a time, and Sam could end her current sexual dry spell. Not a bad deal, right? Truth be told, sex surpassed yoga any day of the week for that sense of total relaxation, assuming the guy gave a crap to care for the woman's needs as well. She'd coached more than one of the selfish sons of bitches into pleasing her.
"What are you cooking up over there, Sylvia?" Sam's mother asked, upping Sam's nervous quota for the day.
This visit had undone all her classes had gained her this morning. Her shoulders were back to supporting her ears, her breaths had become short and erratic, while a headache building from the tightness in her neck threatened to ruin what remained of the day. She'd be going back to the studio to do a few hours of restorative poses after this. Thankfully the studio closed to the public on Friday and Saturday nights, leaving her the option.
"Oh, Samantha," her mother belted out in a high pitched tone, tightening the muscles in her lower back, too, "I've seen the woman do her magic before, pair up shifters, have them fall madly in love. I can tell she is onto something good here for you."
Madly in love. It wouldn't happen to her, she wouldn't let it, but still, this pensive, almost worried rush of emotions that mixed with Sylvia's excitement hit Sam like a tornado. Something mischievous twinkled in the woman's blue eyes, like she seriously contemplated a profitable crime or something.
"You are creeping me out here, Sylvia," Sam voiced as her heart threatened to explode in her tight chest, making it nearly impossible to catch her breath.
The walls of her mother's kitchen began to close in on her, the red cabinets and white appliances appearing too bright and making her blink her surroundings away. While the kitchen had never been to her personal taste, it held a sense of comfort for Sam. So many good times had taken place in that room. When they'd bought the place, the kitchen's old metal cabinets had been red, and rather than spend the money to replace them, her mother had accented with patriotic decorations. Again, while not what Sam would have chosen to do, the place had grown on her, she'd come to love it because of all that had happened within these walls, the good and the bad, the memories of her childhood.
"Okay, look, this guy, he's really special," Sylvia finally began talking again, "and he's really worth it. But, much like you, he isn't interested in me fixing him up. However, unlike you, he has no family to help me out, to talk him into it. We have to get at him another way, through his friends, but in a more subtle fashion. So, while this is way out of character even for me, I need to hook you up with an acquaintance of his first. And, you may have to go out with this acquaintance a few times before the match, the man I'm thinking of, will find an interest in you."
"Oh no," Sam said, leaning in close to Sylvia as her mother had set about loading the cake into the oven. "I didn't sign up for more than one date, and I definitely didn't sign up to date one guy to get another's interest. It sounds wrong, to be honest. And, besides, I simply don't have enough dresses for that nonsense. I am appeasing my mother for the moment here, not looking for true love."
Sam stopped, wincing when she realized that thought had slipped out of her mouth as her thoughts had circled around what this dating agency person had suggested, date one guy to gain another's interest.
"Yes, dear, but once true love comes looking for you, trust me, you will change your mind, as will your savior. It's just going to take a little more finagling with you two. But in the end...oh, in the end, it will be so worth it."
"Stop calling him my savior. I don't need one, if you haven't noticed. And stop that smiling and wringing your hands thing like you're so pleased with your diabolical plan."
"It's not exactly diabolical, though I do what I can. But dear, it is you who haven't noticed that you do need a savior. You do. Even if it is a shifter as stubborn as you are. What a match made...well, by me of course," Sylvia said, letting herself get a good laugh out of her own joke. "Anyway, before you protest and we have to have the same old boring I'm-fine-on-my-own argument, think of the dating of the first man as an experiment. You want brains, well the first guy has them in spades, as well as the butt load of money those brains have gotten him in the whole world wide web business."
"Brains, huh? Well, that will be different."
"Yes, it will, and I know you are looking for something different, and that is what I will be getting you with both men, each in their own way. Trust me."
"I'm not looking for something different. I'm not actually looking at all," Sam said, going for broke, her frustration level letting the truth flow, mother in the room or not.
"Which means you are looking for something different."
"What? I just said..."
"I know what you said. It's what I heard," Slyvia interrupted. "I heard, beyond the words spoken, that you are done with the dating scene, and so you want something different than what it had offered you so far. What you don't realize is when you find this different, unique if you will, it is then you will fall in love, even if you don't know yet that it's what you are looking for. So, trust me. I know these things. You are."
I am not. I will not, Sam yelled in her own head.
"You are talking in riddles," Sam protested, "and I'm sure to you this whole trusting you idea doesn't sound dangerous at all, this whole trusting you with this crazy idea of dating one guy to meet another."
Sam paused, hating herself for using air quotes both times she'd said trusting you.
"But how is this fair to the first guy?" she continued on after a therapeutic sigh. "Are you not using hi
m? Isn't this all unethical given you run a dating agency?"
"Yes, in a way, but he owes me anyway. Big time. I will even tell him upfront that it isn't his match, but someone I would like him to meet. I'll even tell him he will be doing me a favor. He won't ask questions. He, unlike you, isn't opposed to playing the field, nor is he opposed to doing a favor for a friend, no matter how extreme the favor may be. He's a good man. This is why I have never had to fix him up yet. He's perfectly content for the time being to be a player, and I know in my heart that his time is coming. Listen, sweet cheeks, and I'm talking that tight and generous young ass of yours, darling, I know this is one of the craziest, ass-backwards hook-ups I've ever proposed, and I have created some doozies. I just feel this is the right match, and that this is the only way to make it happen given issues with the other party involved in it. Unconventional? Sure. I'm even breaking one or two of my own rules here. So stop looking at me that way. Yes, I have a few rules. I am a businesswoman, too. But, please, Sam, say you are game to my so-called diabolical plan."
"I would need my head examined to go along with this. It isn't what I signed up for, not that I signed up for anything, but rather was ambushed into it. Regardless of all of that, I was just trying to appease my mom for a bit by agreeing to one date, not some outrageous, and unethical plan to fix me up with one guy in some hopes I will meet another guy who wouldn't let you fix him up. Hell, maybe I will like the guy. He does sound smart to ignore your intrusions."
When Sylvia shrugged, her eyes still sparkling, Sam experienced a sudden wave of exhaustion. Between her two classes this morning, one aerial yoga and the other a power flow class, and now this conversation, it would take a lot more than chocolate cake to wake her up. One glance at her mother's face tugged at her sluggish heart. So, even knowing what it would cost her, she agreed to this string of hellish dates which would force her to go shopping, another drudgery. The cake had better be damn good.
So, she agreed and quickly changed the subject. She figured questioning Sylvia about her agency would do the trick. The woman seemed quite the spitfire, so she figured she'd have some amusing tales to tell if she asked her about her most outrageous fix ups to date, beyond hers.
The smell of chocolate filled the air, appeasing the savage beast in her to some extent. With her elbow resting on the counter, she plopped her head into her hand, to listen to tales of romance as her mouth watered, passing the time until she could jam a fork into a piece of cake. While her mother began the ganache and frosting combo she used to layer and ice the cake, Sylvia's stories weren't hampered by the mere whirl of the blender.
Chapter Two
The sun set, granting a smattering of clouds low on the horizon that had turned shades of deep purple and orange. She observed this rather common phenomenon with a measure of effort to not appear impressed by the fact she stood about to enter a private jet, on a private runway, at a private airport her date owned. The long ribbon of white they'd taxi upon soon cut through two, small, tree-lined hills meant to take her away from all society, not just the society she knew. Set off balance by more than her heels, she looked down at herself, wondering if anyone else could see her shake and sway, out of her element on all fronts.
Ian Michaelson, the guy Sylvia had set her up with in order to find her so-called savior, apparently had more than enough money to burn. Sylvia had sadly understated the load of money she'd claimed this guy to have. While a driver and a couple of bodyguards had picked her up at her place, a situation she'd felt at first a highly impersonal and highly off-putting way to begin a blind first date, she'd been told by a very nice driver, Will she thought he'd said, that Ian himself had been detained on business but liked to keep to a schedule regardless. Not impressed by any of it, including the two guards who rode in the back with her, she'd sat upright, spine straight, rather than letting herself relax into the soft leather seats of the vehicle.
No smiles from the guards, only forced nods of greeting when the driver introduced her, she hoped neither of them would be her savior. She'd spent the drive re-evaluating this mess Sylvia had gotten her into. How, when this Ian finally showed his face, could she possibly concentrate on him knowing that at some point she'd meet the real guy that should steal her heart? Not that she feared her heart capable of being stolen, but she would admit to the fact that all of those stories she had Sylvia tell her of wild conquests and victories at matchmaking had unnerved her some. The woman had a stellar record beyond belief, and she hadn't felt the woman lying. The paranormal community regarded her as one of high character, and a goddess at her job. While Sam deemed herself immune to falling into one of the woman's track record, the stories had started to make her resolve falter.
She stiffened, glancing again at Ian against the backdrop of the airplane he freaking owned. A blank panther shifter, he didn't have that rugged look about him that all of his guards did, them all being part of his pride. Instead, he stood there beside her with not a smug smile on his face, but one confident without arrogance. A semi-sexy nerd, he had short, over-styled jet black hair with too much product smoothed through it. His lean build held up his over-priced suit nicely. She wondered at her own choice of attire. Although she'd been informed their destination remained secret, she had been told to dress in a nice but comfortable cocktail dress. That sounded like a contradiction in terms to her.
She'd gone with her rather decadently embroidered knee-length dress rather than add shopping to her agony just yet. The ornate illusion neckline with intricate, scalloped, black lace which reached all the way down to fall over a white, tulle-lined skirt, did her ample chest-line its due while hugging her curves in the right places. She'd gotten quite a few looks already. Most of the men she'd encountered so far had seemingly been introduced to her breasts rather than her face. She may have been complimented or offended had the curiosity of looking for her so-called savior not preoccupied the majority of her thoughts. The idea again gave her pause, catching her breath, tightening her fingers into fists, as she realized the genius of Sylvia. The woman had fired up Sam's natural curiosity, underhandedly making her interested to figure out who this savior was. She'd invested her in the damn scheme despite her reservations and reluctance.
Before she could start into another round of cleansing, calming breaths, once she had the mind to come up with a breathing exercise to follow, Ian clasped her hand, startling her when he asked, "Oh no, please don't tell me you are afraid of flying."
"What?" she abruptly responded, then catching herself, stated "No. I'm not. Why would you ask such a thing? Do shifters have empathic skills or something? Because yours are off then, buddy."
"Um, no, we don't unless in that form," he responded, his eyes narrowed she assumed in response to the way she'd bitten off the end of each word, letting her voice go bitch deep in the process. "I asked because your hands are in fists, and your breathing had become quite erratic."
"Oh, that. No, nothing to do with the flight. My mind had wondered away on me down a path of...well, work stuff," she lied.. "Sorry. Bad day. I will remove it from my thoughts and appreciate our little trip here, though I must say, I have never been flown to dinner. You do this often?"
"Not as often as I would like, but yes, it is known to happen," he answered before his brows furrowed. "You had a bad day at a yoga studio?"
"It happens," she snipped, then took a deep breath and tried again. "Let's just say that some people NEED the yoga more than others do."
"They are ready for you, sir," a deep voice said from behind her, the man so close she jumped.
Of course, surrounded by so many, the flight crew, the bodyguards, it was no wonder she hadn't heard anyone get so close. When she fully opened her blinking eyes, her breath caught at the sight of the owner of the voice. Her lungs burned before she realized she hadn't breathed again in however many seconds had passed between them as they looked into each other's eyes. She planned to deny later how mesmerizing his dark orbs with the silver glints had been. If she kept thi
s pattern up, she'd soon find herself to have fainted on the runway.
"Samantha, this is my head bodyguard, Jacob," Ian thankfully interrupted her insensible swoon into a trance-like state of observation. "Not only is he a member of my pride like the others, but Jacob and I have been best buds since we were cubs. I'm never without him, thankfully. I'd trust him with my life, as I do everyday, so guess as a clique thing to say, it is a grave understatement. Poor guy, I also burden him with my every thought most days, too." He chuckled, flashing his 'best bud' a grin.
"Oh, hi," she managed, feeling like a fool, her mentality back to that of an adolescent meeting a cute guy.
Her embarrassment faded, thankfully stopping the rush of blood to her cheeks, when the man responded back in kind with, "Uh, hi." She didn't believe him making fun of her, instead he seemed as caught off guard by her as she had been by him.
When both men put their hands on her back to guide her to the steps to the plane, she stiffened, her posture suddenly perfect other than the fact her shoulders were climbing toward her ears. Her magic actually tingled along her spine, a new occurrence that unnerved her further than her instant attraction to Jacob. More alarming, she could only guess the interest mutual given the brush of energy coming from his palm, a stampede of gently tapping fingers which danced all over her back now.
Hell, if this guy were to be her savior, she'd be in a whole world of trouble saving herself from falling in love with him. Just the mere thought instilled such fear into her that she gasped out loud. Lucky for her that rush of air into her lungs occurred at the precise moment they stepped into the plane, so the elaborate display of wealth could be blamed, breaking her I'm not impressed cover.