Sugar and Spice: 3 Contemporary Romances

by Jenny Jacobs

  And great sex.

  She wasn’t sure she believed in love, so she wasn’t demanding that, right? Just companionship. Was that really so much to ask for? Apparently.

  “Okay,” she said. “Sadly, I cannot be your pimp as there are certain statutes in this town forbidding that kind of thing, but I will do my part to set you up. But you need to keep doing yours.”

  There was a long moment of silence and then Jeremy sighed and said, “Okay. Thanks for the pizza.”

  And went home, leaving her wondering what the hell she’d missed.

  Chapter 7

  Good job, Jeremy told himself as he hammered at a stuck oil pan plug. Insult the woman and she’ll be sure to come across for you. It was two days after his last meeting with Rilka and he was still agonizing over what a dumbfuck he was. Accusing her of not making an effort in her love life when it wasn’t any of his damned business what she did with her love life except insofar as he kinda wanted his love life and hers to be intertwined. Which would be easier if he would just tell her that. But that would mean being vulnerable with Rilka. The mere thought was enough to make a man’s balls shrivel in fear.

  He smacked the plug with the wrench. There’d been a time when he would have just leaned in and kissed her. But he was no longer the impetuous youth he had been and he had learned that losing his legs had changed what people thought of him, even if it hadn’t changed what he thought of him. A single woman who might be flattered by a pass from a good-looking guy when he was able-bodied was often appalled when a man missing his legs had the cojones to think she’d welcome his attentions. A hard lesson, but he’d learned it.

  Not that Rilka would be offended by a pass from him because he was missing his legs. She’d be offended because he was a client and she didn’t see him in that light.

  He kinda wished he’d met her before now. Before … Iraq. He hammered the plug again.

  “What’s biting you?” Nate asked from the next bay where he had a Mazda up on the lift and was wrestling the muffler off.

  “Nothing,” Jeremy muttered.

  “Need a hand?”

  The plug finally came loose, making Jeremy snag a cut open across his knuckles.

  “Nope,” he said, sliding out from under the car. “Got it.”

  A honk at the overhead door made Jeremy glance around. A brunette was getting out of a red Ford sedan. Rilka. His heart leaped. His heart was an idiot.

  “I’ve got it,” he told his brother. Nate, who had moved away from the Mazda to the service desk, gave him a startled glance. Jeremy never actually volunteered to deal with the customers, but Nate didn’t need to look so shocked. Always a first time.

  Jeremy wiped his hands, dabbed at the blood on his knuckles, and hoisted himself into his chair, then released the brakes and rolled forward.

  “Here.” Nate handed him the clipboard with the blank job order sheet on it. Jeremy dropped it in his lap. God, she looked terrific, standing in the little pool of sunlight —

  It was raining. She had an umbrella over her head. Jeremy took in a breath. She brought the sun with her. Christ. When had he come down with a case of insanity?

  “Hey, Rilka,” he said and he couldn’t help the stupid grin on his face. “What can I do for you?”

  She gave a broad answering smile so apparently she had forgiven him for being a dumbfuck. Or maybe she had forgotten. “Thought I’d give your shop a try. My usual place couldn’t get me in till next week.”

  “Good news for us,” he said. Careless, nonchalant, though his palms were slick with sweat and the clipboard hid his little secret. She was wearing a snug T-shirt with her jeans and the chilly rain had tightened her nipples and he could see them, oh man, pricking against the cotton of her T-shirt. His mouth went dry. He couldn’t seem to stop staring. He knew he liked her, now he was openly lusting after her. Great. That couldn’t go wrong.

  “I just need an oil change,” she said. “And maybe a glance at the brakes. They started squeaking a couple days ago.”

  “Okay.” He reached for the clipboard to make a note and knocked it to the ground. They both reached for it and as she leaned close he could smell her citrusy scent, and something warm and female beneath, and he could see down her T-shirt. Lots of round softness inside a pink lacy bra.

  He almost fell out of his chair. I am in so much trouble, he thought, accepting the clipboard as she handed it to him.

  • • •

  Rilka looked at the blank sheet of paper on the table. “Resume,” she wrote across the top. Then she added her name and address. There. She was making excellent progress. Now, career objective. She tapped the pen again her teeth, then jotted, Fry cook or call center representative. There. That would show she was flexible. Experience … that was tougher. Five years’ experience helping sadly deluded individuals foster their delusions.

  You could probably go to jail for that. She crossed it out. Maybe she could find a way to spin it. Maybe not.

  She pushed the paper aside and picked up the phone. “Marilyn. I’m having a career crisis.”

  “You’re always having a career crisis. What else is new?”

  “I suck at this, Marilyn. I don’t believe in love or happily ever after or fairy tales.”

  “You don’t suck,” Marilyn said. “You’re just going through a dry spell. A client will hit it off with someone and you’ll feel brilliant and happy that you had a hand in it.”

  “But I don’t believe in what I’m doing,” she wailed. She’d managed to do okay over the years but that had been mostly pure dumb luck. And now she didn’t even have pure dumb luck on her side. It had been six months since she’d had a successful match. Six months! That was like fifteen years in matchmaker time.

  “Do you think I believe in mixing daiquiris?” Marilyn asked. “Do you think I find it fulfilling and rewarding?”

  “No, but you have real work to compensate.”

  “Okay, then. Get a hobby. Or maybe a dog.”

  “You know I don’t like animals.”

  “Then it’ll have to be a hobby,” Marilyn said, not a very helpful response. Maybe she was tired of hearing Rilka complain about the same thing over and over. Rilka was tired of hearing herself do it, too. Maybe she did need a hobby. She tried to imagine what that might be.

  “Or maybe you need a sabbatical,” Marilyn said.

  Rilka straightened in her chair. That sounded better. What if she did her best to get her current clients paired off, and then took some time off? A month, maybe two? She could do good works or maybe learn how to drive a tractor-trailer or cut hair. And then when the sabbatical was over, she’d get her life back.

  “You’re brilliant, Marilyn,” she said warmly and hung up the phone to go look up places where she could take her sabbatical.

  • • •

  The next morning, Rilka woke up with renewed energy. Get ’em off the books, that was her new goal. She set to work with a positive spirit she hadn’t felt in months.

  “His name is Rafael. He’s in senior management at Electra Corp. He’s very busy and wants someone who understands that. I was thinking you might hit it off.”

  “I don’t know,” Julia said. “I’m starting to get really cynical about this whole business.”

  Me, too.

  “It’s just a drink,” Rilka said. Why did she feel like a panderer? The wheedling tone, probably.

  “I don’t do drinks anymore,” Julia said.

  “Oh?”

  “Not good for dancers. I’ll meet him for a smoothie before work. If he’s not into smoothies, he can get a cup of coffee.”

  Three months, she told herself. I am going to stick it out for three months and then it’s sabbatical time, baby.

  “I’ll set it up,” she said, not having to fake the cheerfulness at all this time
.

  • • •

  “Tea?” Rilka asked. If I have to serve another cup of tea in this lifetime, I will slit my wrists. Okay, no, she just had to serve tea for three more months and then she would be done.

  “No, thank you,” Natalia said politely, fluffing her painfully blonde hair. She finished applying her bright red lipstick, smacked her lips at the mirror on her silver compact, then snapped the compact closed and tucked it away in her little handbag. The one that matched her little dress and her little shoes and probably her little underwear.

  “So how’d it go?” Rilka asked warily. She hadn’t heard any news reports about James Reston, chairmen of the board of Electra Corporation, dying of a coronary in his mistress’s arms, so that was at least promising. Nor had she gotten an enthusiastic thank-you for bringing joy to an old man’s declining years. So.

  Natalia sighed and made a sad moué. “Reston was very nice. And such a gentleman. And definitely willing to show a girl a good time.” She made another regretful sigh. “But he’s too young.”

  “Too young?” Rilka echoed. “Natalie, he’s sixty-eight. You’re twenty-three. How can he be too young?”

  The other woman shrugged. “Well, at sixty-eight he could have another twenty years. I’d be forty-three! I can’t take the risk.”

  “I see,” Rilka said. Three more months three more months three more months.

  “I knew you’d understand.”

  Chapter 8

  “How’d your date go?” Rilka asked Julia. She had the phone on speaker though it annoyed her when other people did that to her. She moved the curtain aside and peered at the gray day. There’d been a sunny day sometime last week, bookended by gray days. It had been a taunt. Would the rain never end?

  “If we call it a breakfast meeting, it went great. If we call it a date, it was a disaster,” Julia said.

  “So, how’d your breakfast meeting go?” Rilka asked gamely.

  Julia was more than happy to spill all. “He’s one of those men who assumes his career matters more than mine. By saying he wants a woman who understands how important his work is, he means he wants a dutiful wife who won’t complain about his late hours, who will make a beautiful home for him, and will eventually produce three lovely children. That she will be entirely responsible for rearing. Don’t get me started.”

  Rilka blinked. I think I already have.

  “Ah,” she said. “Well. At least that tells me something about him.” It told her she had her work cut out for her.

  “On the other hand,” Julia said, sounding less put out now that she’d gotten that off her chest, “he’s a brilliant businessman.”

  “He struck me as very knowledgeable,” Rilka said cautiously.

  “He is. We both had a good time talking about strategic planning and developing long-range vision statements with board buy-in.”

  Rilka stared at the phone. Julia sounded positively buoyant now. The things that excited people. “Sure. Sounds groovy. So at least you had something to talk about.”

  “Yep. We decided to meet for lunch in a couple of weeks, just business. Two corporate types solving problems together, you know?”

  “That’s great,” Rilka said. Unfortunately, she wasn’t in the business of bringing corporate types together for brainstorming sessions. She was pretty sure she’d be as bad at that as she was at matchmaking. Well, maybe if Julia and Rafael got to know each other better, they’d realize they truly had a soul-deep connection. Her clients tended to put too much emphasis on the first date when you could really only judge compatibility after experience. An initial burst of attraction didn’t necessarily lead anywhere, either, but people were easily fooled by that. Look at Duncan. Beautiful man — who wouldn’t be attracted to him? — but who could live with him?

  “So that’s fine,” Julia was saying. “I’m glad we met. But I really — I’m done, okay? This is just too hard on my ego. Too hard on me.”

  Damn. Rilka should have seen that coming. She hated having unhappy clients. Gran used to say you couldn’t make everyone happy but you had to try. That was your job. Even though Rilka wanted to clear the books, this wasn’t how she wanted to do it.

  “We can do something different,” she said. “Don’t give up yet. We’ve hardly started! We can — ”

  “No,” Julia said and Rilka could hear the disillusionment in her voice. So much for the buoyancy. Rilka should’ve quit when she was ahead. “I’m just going to focus on my career and my dance for now. I’m just not going to find Mr. Right at the moment. Maybe never. And that’s okay. Really, Rilka. I’ve got a good life.”

  Okay, that was better than when Julia had come in for her first session. That day she wouldn’t have been able to say, “I’ve got a good life.” So Rilka hadn’t found a match for her but maybe she had helped her get a step closer to happiness. That wasn’t so bad. In fact, that was pretty good. That was success. It wasn’t what anyone was paying her to do, but what the hell.

  “I’m glad you’re feeling that way,” Rilka said and didn’t add any of the annoying aphorisms she knew by heart. When you’re not looking, that’s when you’ll find him. Et cetera. Maybe she would stop saying any of the aphorisms, see how it went. Although when people asked, “Is there really someone for me?” Rilka was pretty sure, “Let’s see how it goes” wasn’t exactly the encouragement they were looking for.

  “I’m glad you told me to start dancing,” Julia said. “That really made a difference. Things are a lot more satisfying now.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Rilka said, and meant it.

  “Hey, I wanted to tell you I have a recital next Friday. Since you’re the one who encouraged me to take lessons, I thought it’d be nice if you could be there. If not, I understand.”

  Rilka heard the tentative note in her voice and said, “I’ll be there. Just say when and where.”

  After Julia gave her the details and they’d hung up, Rilka debated about taking Julia’s name out of the active file. Did Julia really want to give up? What if her perfect match walked in the door today?

  Good God, I’m starting to sound like Gran. She’d better take Julia at her word. If Julia changed her mind, it was easy enough to put her back in the active file.

  • • •

  “I’m glad that you’re still interested in dating and that you haven’t let your, err, recent experiences embitter you,” Rilka said. Mostly she was surprised Hilda was willing to make a check out to her in payment of her efforts. But she had the check sitting right in front of her. Exhibit A in the case proving that Rilka didn’t know what the hell was going on.

  Hilda nodded sharply and blew on the tea. “I never let setbacks discourage me.”

  “Very wise,” Rilka said, glancing at the clock. The day would be over soon. The day could not be over soon enough. But once it was over, then she could take a long bath and try to forget everything. What she wanted was to fix dinner and have a conversation with someone that didn’t have anything to do with dating, romance, or true love. Not Marilyn; she was working. Maybe Jeremy. Of course, he might want to talk about getting laid, but she could deal with that. Getting laid didn’t have anything to do with dating, romance, or true love. She made a mental note to call him and see if he was free.

  “So?” Hilda prompted, sipping tea. How many countless times had Hilda sat at her kitchen table waiting for the next thing?

  “Sorry,” Rilka said. “I’m a little distracted this afternoon. I’ve been thinking about your next match but — ” But every man I’ve sent your way has been wrong. She’d long ago decided that Hilda didn’t want to be in a relationship at all, despite her protestations to the contrary. At least Rilka admitted she didn’t want to be in a relationship. Unless it’s the right one. Great, she was undecided. I want a relationship. No I don’t. It was going to be exhausting. “Hilda, I’m sorry, b
ut I feel I’m missing an important piece.”

  “We’ve talked about this quite extensively,” Hilda said, pushing the cup of tea away in annoyance. “I thought I had been very clear in my particulars.”

  “There must be something we haven’t gotten at yet,” Rilka said brightly, instead of launching into her Chinese restaurant speech: This is not a Chinese restaurant. You don’t just order one characteristic from Column A and two from Column B. The Chinese restaurant speech always pissed off her clients and while she wanted to go on her sabbatical, pissing off her clients wasn’t how she wanted to get there. Although give her time and she might change her mind.

  She took a deep breath and tried to explain the problem to Hilda. “I know you want someone charming and gentlemanly, but you haven’t liked the charming and gentlemanly men I’ve sent your way. So, maybe we’ve been too focused on behaviors that don’t really get at character. Maybe you just need to tell me who your fantasy man is. What is your life with him like?”

  Immediately, she realized that she had left Hilda back at “fantasy.” The sour look on the older woman’s face showed she did not indulge in fantasies. Rilka took another deep breath and said, “Okay, let’s not talk about fantasies. Let’s talk about … your ideal man. And nothing abstract. Give me concrete details. Where does he work? What does he look like?”

  “My ideal man?” Hilda drummed her nails on the tabletop. She eyed Rilka as if measuring how far she could trust her with a secret. Rilka gave her a reassuring smile. She seriously doubted Hilda had anything alarming in her secret heart. But of course you never knew. Rilka had spent her first year in business being shocked by what was in ordinary people’s secret hearts. So it was always possible Rilka had just made a serious mistake.

  Hilda pursed her lips, then leaned forward conspiratorially and murmured, “I’ve always had a special fondness for men in uniform.”

  “Men in uniform?” Rilka echoed. That was her secret?

  “Yes.” Hilda gave a firm nod. “Like many women, I have a cop fantasy.”