I hung up and rushed back to the table.
Toria picked up on my euphoria immediately. “Good news, I take it?”
“What gave me away?” I sat.
“Oh, I don’t know. The big, fat grin on your face? You look like you just won the grand prize or pulled a fast one.”
“You’re not too far off. I just got something I wanted very badly.”
“Awesome.” She waited for me to elaborate.
This wasn’t the time. “I promised myself I wouldn’t talk shop on this mission. I’ll tell you all about it another time.”
“I’m glad you’re back.” She waved her fork over the meal between us. “I do believe this is a killer breakfast. Look at the size of that scramble. And all that bacon. It’s obscene.” She shoved the scramble toward me. “Does anyone actually ever finish all this?”
I shrugged. “I’ve seen it done. Mostly by growing teenage boys. The high school wrestling team guys, especially the heavyweights, were pretty good at polishing a scramble off, at least the guys who had to get up to weight. The trick is—you have to be serious about it. If you’re over twenty, you pay for it later.”
She had a way of hanging on my every word and being damned amused and entertained by me. It was flattering and sexy as hell.
“Death by overeating.” She tilted her head side to side, considering it. “I can see it happening. It’s diabolical, when you think about it. This really is a dangerous mission.”
“Positively perilous. Pace yourself,” I said with a serious expression. “The mission gets better and better. You don’t want to handicap yourself for the rest of it.”
She shrugged and took a large forkful of food.
“There are some dangerous curves ahead. Seriously, if you have a weak stomach at all, don’t overdo it.”
“Oh, a hint.” She paused, eyeing me cautiously. “You tempt me with breakfast and then warn me of the consequences.” She made show of sliding the food in her mouth and rolling her eyes in ecstasy. “This is heavenly. So good.” She reached for the plate of bacon. “All it wants is more bacon.”
She was a ham, which was one reason I’d fallen in love with her so hard and fast.
I had warned her fair and square, but I wasn’t playing fair at all. There are a few benefits of working with a matchmaker as long as I have. One of them is learning all the tricks of arousal, attraction, and falling in love. This really was a mission to get her to fall in love with me. The fifth date is the important one. I was leaving nothing to chance. This date was filled with her favorite things and designed to show her how thoughtful I was. How much I wanted to impress her.
But I was even more methodical and diabolical than that. There’s a connection between an adrenaline rush and attraction and arousal. Why do you think so many young guys like to take girls on rollercoasters? This date was filled with adrenaline hits. By the end of this night, she’d fall into my arms.
*
Toria
I have always wanted to drive a racecar. Always wanted to drag-race, at least once. And I may have put that on my dating profile with Ashley. When we pulled through the trees to the international raceway, where I had watched the drag races with my dad many times, my heart beat out of control.
Cam pulled to a stop in the closest parking spot to the grandstands. “Are you ready for a fantasy to come true?”
Mine already was—meeting Cam. He was perfect. Milia’s warning wafted away. I knew who Cam was. There was no deceit in him, just a perfectly sweet, hot guy.
“What are we waiting for?” He opened his door. “Our cars and instructor are waiting for us.”
“No way.” My heart beat in my ears. “Don’t tell me we’re really going to drag-race?”
His grin answered my question. “Come on.”
*
Cam
Some might say I’d planned a guy’s dream date. But this was all Toria’s dream. Which was what made us so perfect together.
Our instructor, Ray, was an experienced retired racer with a dry sense of humor. The drag-race lesson was scheduled to take up the rest of the morning. I was pacing the day, keeping to a schedule, but appearing to be leisurely.
I’d thought Toria would be bored through the hour-long orientation and equipment familiarization. But her face was filled with delight through the entirety. She concentrated and eagerly asked questions. The look on her face during orientation was nothing compared to the joy as she took the demo run.
Proportionally, it was a lot of lesson for a few adrenaline-filled seconds of fun—ten seconds for a quarter-mile run at about 130mph. The package only included a burnout and two runs apiece. I didn’t really give a damn about my turns, and was happy to let Toria use them. I’d been in a dragster before.
When she was all suited up, I kissed her just before she put her helmet on. “Be careful, will you? I just found you. I don’t want to lose you now.”
“Old lady.” She pecked me back and climbed into the car.
I went into the grandstands and watched her take her runs, heart pounding in my ears. She looked hot in the racing jumpsuit.
I watched Ray spray the track with water for the burnout. On his signal, she grabbed the butterfly wheel, revved the engine, and peeled out. She was a pro with the burnout, creating a lot of smoke.
The burnout is part of drag racing. Those cars fly down the track. It takes a lot of traction of the tires to keep them grounded and on course. Heating the tires helps. That was what the burnout was for. It was possibly the most spectacular part of the race. As she took off, I hoped like hell those tires had all the traction in the world.
The old saying—where there’s smoke, there’s fire—was certainly true. I burned for her as she burned up the track.
She took her first short run—only an eighth of a mile to test her skill. When she pulled to a stop, Ray walked up to her car to give her pointers and fine-tune her driving. Then it was back to the starting line for three more runs, full-length quarter miles this time.
I got a thrill out of watching her drive. I liked a woman who enjoyed danger and excitement. When she finally got out of the car after her runs and pulled off her helmet, she looked like Danica Patrick as she shook out her hair. Female drivers were hot. Toria was beaming, her expression euphoric. Our eyes met. Electricity crackled across the air between us.
If this portion of the date hadn’t won me a little piece of her heart, nothing would.
I ran down the grandstand steps, taking them two at a time, raced to reach her, and took her in my arms. She threw her arms around me. I lifted her off her feet and swung her around.
She was flushed from the adrenaline rush. Her eyes were round and dark. At that moment, I was damned tempted to bag the rest of the day and ask her back to my place right then.
Patience, I cautioned myself. I had more to prove.
“That was perfect.” She looked me in the eye. “The best thing ever.”
“I hate to tell you,” I said, “but this is just the beginning. And it doesn’t even come close to what’s to come.”
“Bring it on.”
*
Cam
After the drag-racing lesson, I took Toria to the outdoor gun range. It was nearby, off the main road down a long gravel driveway tucked among the trees.
“Some families belong to the country club,” I said as I pulled into a spot behind the shooting shelter and put the car in park. “My family has belonged to the gun club for years.”
Her eyes lit up. “You’re showing me your life. That’s sweet. I like it.” She grabbed my hand. “I haven’t been shooting in years.” She let go and slid out of the car, deeply inhaling the clean forest air scented with fir and cedar. “The air is fresh and woodsy out here. The location is pretty. Nice and outdoorsy. I like it already. Are we going to shoot the lipstick gun?” Her excitement was catching.
“You like shooting, I hope?” I walked to the trunk to get the gear.
“Love it.”
&nbs
p; “Good. Let’s hope you love the lipstick gun as well.”
“I’ve fired a lot of guns, but never a lipstick case. That will be a first.”
“One of many today.” I gave her my flirty, teasing, lecherous look.
She kissed my cheek and whispered, “I’m more eager for some firsts than others.”
I almost abandoned the gun range right then.
We’d stored the lipstick gun in the trunk while we’d been at breakfast and the track. I got it out and handed it to her.
“What kind of gun purse do you think I need for this?” She slid it out of the box and admired it again. “I bet I could make one.” She nodded to herself as if thinking seriously on the matter and lost in thought.
“Toria?”
“Sorry!” She laughed. “Lost in thought. I suppose the spies who carried these didn’t need a gun purse. But these days, every gun needs one. Though this one needs a gun makeup bag, don’t you think? And a maybe an eye shadow trio case for holding the ammo.”
Her eyes were filled with humor. “I hated to burst your bubble back at the spy school, but I have a concealed carry permit too, big shot. I carry a firearm for protection. I have for years since…” She waved her hand. “Since forever.”
She studied the small lipstick case in her hand, hefting it reverently. “This is really something. An almost one-of-a-kind dream. I’m eager to see how she fires.”
“There goes my plan to be the macho guy showing you how to use your weapon. It was the perfect excuse to get up close and personal with my arms around you.”
She laughed. “Come on. You knew I could shoot, or you wouldn’t have purchased this beauty for me.”
“Ashley may have told me. A gun was my idea. The lipstick gun was Milia’s. Rumor is she used to be a spy. She worked for the CIA.”
Toria studied the gun in her hand. “Well, it’s perfect. And if you want to put your arms around me, you don’t need an excuse.”
I grabbed her ammo from the trunk and tossed it to her.
She rattled the ammo box. “This is going to be fun. I assume you brought ear protection. This thing is small, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be loud.”
I got in the trunk, pulled out a pair of ear protectors, and tossed them to her. “Need any help?”
“I got it. Do we have any targets? Or are we just going to guess how good our aim is?”
I took my gun case out of the trunk along with the rest of the gear. I handed her a paper target. “We have plenty. Let’s go put some holes in this bad boy.”
I walked to the front of the blind and set out the gear. The stalls on either side of us were occupied. I waited for a gap in the shooting and signaled the other shooters I was going out to put up a target.
I set the targets and returned to find her studying her gun.
“I wonder how you sight this?” She studied it.
“Know how to fire that?” I asked.
“Absolutely. I read the instructions. No trigger. You twist the tube like you’re going to extend the lipstick, and bang! You just fired a shot.
“It was easy to load. But man, if you’re a spy, you don’t want to waste your shot. One and done. If you miss the enemy, he’ll get you. The thing is, you shouldn’t miss. This thing is only accurate and deadly at three to four feet.” She pointed to the target. “You’re going to have to move that closer.”
I shook my head. “You’re going to have to impress me with your shooting skills and hit it from back here.”
She shrugged. “Game on.”
“All right.” I stepped back. “When you’re ready.”
She removed the cap and took aim at the target—the look of concentration on her face was priceless. She held the gun out at arm’s length, bit her lip, pointed the tube toward the target, and twisted the end. The gun fired nicely and quietly. A hole appeared on the edge of the target.
I studied it a minute. “Not bad. Good shooting. Impressive that you hit the target. Impressive that the wimpy bullet made it that far.”
She rubbed her knuckles on her shirt. “I’ve always been good with lipstick. I color in the lines very well.” She lowered her weapon, opening the chamber so it couldn’t go off again.
She admired her firearm. “Nice piece. Not much kick. At close enough range, though, it really could be the kiss of death.”
She loaded and fired again. After several rounds, she gave me a turn. My aim was as good as hers.
“Impressive. I had no idea you were so good with a tube of lipstick,” she teased.
“I’m pretty good with makeup. Better than most, actually.”
She looked at me sideways, as if I was pulling her leg.
“You think I’m teasing?” I laughed. “I’m a cosplayer. I have to know my way around makeup. I could make you over into a mean alien if you like. Or craft you a pair of silicone elf ears?”
She laughed. “I think I’ll pass. For now.”
“Are you game to try something larger?”
“Am I game? Bigger is almost always better.”
I got out my gun and another, smaller firearm I’d brought for her, more sized for her hand. We went through three boxes of ammo before calling it quits.
I got out the cleaning gear.
She held out her hand. “Let me help. I’m a little rusty, but I think I can remember how to clean a pistol. The lipstick gun? That one may take some figuring out.”
“We’ll figure that one out together.”
We settled in at a bench at the end of the blind and got to work.
I picked up a ramrod. “Just curious—who taught you how to shoot?”
She didn’t look up from her work. “My fiancé.”
I froze. She’d mentioned him briefly before. I didn’t want to push, but I was curious as hell about him. How could a guy get engaged to this woman and blow it before the wedding? How could any man let her go?
“Huh,” I said, pretending to be engrossed in ramming the ramrod down the barrel of my gun.
She touched my arm. “It’s okay. I don’t mind if you ask. It’s natural to be curious about my past. Not that talking about exes is a good idea. According to Ashley, anyway.”
“It’s one of her rules, isn’t it?”
“Probably. But it’s bound to come up, right? And I did say I had a fiancé. So it’s fair game.” She took a deep breath. “Adam was in the Army. He taught me to shoot. He thought it was important. Turns out I enjoyed it.” She took a deep breath. “It was something we had in common. One of many things.” She smiled. “Like you and me.”
Her tone wasn’t what I expected from someone who’d been engaged and never married. Maybe bitterness, but not the fondness in her voice. Not the sadness and regret.
I recognized her tone. It was all too familiar. I hated to ask, but the words slipped out, an almost compulsory thing for another serviceman to ask. “I’m sorry. Was Adam killed in action?”
She looked startled by the question. “No.” She sighed again. “Worse. Head injury. He’s never been himself again. He never will be.”
I set down my weapon, scooted close to her, and took her in my arms. “Then I’m very sorry.”
“Everyone is,” she said, sounding resigned and composed. “But why should they be? The guy who shot him isn’t, I’m sure. Except to say that he didn’t actually kill Adam.”
She leaned her head against my shoulder. “I stuck with Adam for years, hoping against hope that he’d recover and regain a part of himself. But the damage was irreversible. The doctors told us that from the beginning.
“Adam doesn’t remember me, us, his family, or his life before the whatever you want to call it. I struggle. It wasn’t an accident. It’s more than an incident. ‘Shooting’ makes me shudder and gives me nightmares. ‘Tragedy’ sounds too passive, but that’s what it was. For him, for all of us who loved him. He was a brilliant, funny, witty, athletic, sweet guy.” She bit her lip. “Now he’s…simple. He has a lot of physical problems. And anger issues.”
I stroked her hair and held her. I had experience comforting women who’d lost their boyfriends, sons, and husbands. It never got easier. I let her talk.
“His family was wonderful. I’m still close to them, especially to his younger half-brother, who suffered the most. His parents encouraged me to break off the engagement. They insisted they didn’t want my life ruined too. They were with me when I broke it off with Adam.
“He didn’t understand, of course. He didn’t remember loving me. It’s a painful memory for me.” She paused to compose herself. “There’s nothing, even now, that I, or anyone, can do for him. It took me a long time to accept that. I feel sorry and sad for his parents. They can’t escape the nightmare. They live with it. Adam’s in a group home. That’s hard on his mom and dad, too. I kept foolishly hoping he’d come back and be himself again.”
“I’ve heard that before,” I said.
“Sorry.” She looked at me with pain in her eyes. “It’s a sad story that’s not appropriate on an awesome mission to fall in love.”
“I asked.” I pressed my forehead against hers. “I’m sorry if asking caused you pain.”
“I’ve moved on. Now, since meeting you, more than ever.” She stroked my cheek. “Adam taught me what to look for in a man. I never thought I’d find it again or someone who made me as happy. Now I’m thinking I’m happily mistaken.”
“I’m sorry for Adam, but selfishly glad to step in.” I took her chin in my hand. “Is that wrong?”
“Not at all,” she said. “It’s perfectly right.”
14
Toria
Cam had a picnic lunch in the trunk of his car. After we cleaned the guns, he tried to feed me again.
“After that breakfast?” I said. “Are you kidding me? You really are trying to feed me to death. Are you hungry again already?”
“I won’t be hungry for days. But you’re the one with the ravenous, insatiable appetite.” He looked hopeful when he said that, but his voice had a teasing tone to it. And it was pretty clear he wasn’t talking about food.
Mr. Accidental Rival_Jet City Matchmaker Series_Cam Page 12