Almost Jamie (The Jet City Kilt Series) (Volume 1)

by Gina Robinson

  Blair saw me pale and put two and two together. "Mr. Lee?"

  He stopped and complimented her on her dress.

  Blair beamed. "My friend is such a big fan of yours." She pulled me over to him. "He'd love to meet you."

  Connor and Sam watched, amused. Sam elbowed Connor and whispered something to him. He nodded and turned to Stan, introducing himself.

  "She's right. My friend, Austin, here, is a huge fan. Do you think you could sign something for him, on me? And take a picture with him?"

  Stan pulled a pen from his pocket.

  "You're welcome," Blair whispered to me.

  Blair

  The thing about living a dream is that it has an unreal quality. You want to hold that moment in time in your hand and stop it from passing too quickly. But you know it will. You want to store it in a special place in your mind to call up later. But you don't want it tarnished with the taking out and putting away of the memory. You don't want to forget even the smallest detail. But you know you will. And the harder you try to savor it, the more you risk soiling it.

  I made up my mind to simply enjoy it. And I was enjoying myself. Immensely.

  I walked almost trancelike to the hotel autographing, talking with Connor, Sam, and Austin.

  "I didn't know you were such a big Stan Lee fan, Austin," Connor said as we were escorted through a private entrance to the hotel. "I wouldn't have insisted you come to our panel if I'd known."

  "I'm glad you did." Austin grinned at him and glanced at me. "Meeting Stan Lee was a dream come true. But it can't be compared to making new friends."

  Connor clapped Austin on the back, grinning broadly. "Exactly right! And it all turned out in the end to everyone's satisfaction." He paused. "Is the Stan Lee panel where the others sneaked off to so quickly?"

  Austin laughed. "You're a hard man to fool."

  "Well," Connor said, "I'm a famous chieftain warrior, or so most of the ladies like to fantasize. Not much gets past me."

  "When the guys hear about me meeting Stan Lee they're going to regret their sneaking," Austin said.

  "Serves them right!" Connor winked.

  We walked past the check-in desk for the event and reached the autographing room. It was tucked behind a barrier guarded by security personnel in a grand ballroom at the hotel. It was completely out of view from the public. To discourage looky-loos and fans trying to snap pictures, I assumed. A photographer greeted us and introduced us to a makeup artist and hairdresser.

  They quickly ushered Sam to a station to touch up her look.

  Austin looked around and frowned. "In the early days of Comicon, anyone could walk by and see the talent. Or stand in line just to talk to them, without having to buy anything."

  "We're much too big of stars for that, aren't we, Sam?" Connor said with that characteristic teasing twinkle in his eyes.

  "Much, much too big," Sam said, closing her eyes for a fresh application of eye shadow. "In our own minds, maybe."

  "Comicon has gone way too commercial," Austin said with obvious regret in his voice.

  "Things have changed in this age of sudden terrorist attacks and threats to celebrities," Sam said in a gentle, regretful tone. "It's a security issue."

  "Aye." Connor nodded. "Downside of the profession. There are crazies out there, sad to say."

  As she finished up, Sam said something to the hair and makeup people, nodding toward me. They nodded back.

  Connor had his turn in the chair. The hairdresser touched up his hair. "Your turn, Blair."

  "Me?" I was stunned, suddenly shy with surprise. Giddy. Would the fantasy never end?

  Sam smiled at me and turned to the makeup artist. "We don't have much time. Make Blair look as much like me as you can?"

  The artist nodded again.

  I sat in the chair and let the makeup artist work her magic and the hairdresser touch up a few strays that had escaped my updo. When the makeup artist was finished, I looked better than I ever had.

  Sam inspected me. "Perfect!" She leaned over my shoulder and smiled at me in the mirror. "What do you think? Twins?"

  Connor and Austin answered in unison for me: "Absolutely."

  Everyone laughed.

  Connor glanced at his watch. "You have five minutes with us to get a photo snapped and autographed. Let's get to it."

  Five minutes was actually longer than anyone else got. I knew that much from looking at the number of hours they were autographing and the number of people signed up. The event was sold out. Even being an autograph mill and signing as fast as they could, they couldn't keep up with demand.

  "Now," Connor said to me, guiding me in front of the camera. "How would you like to pose with me?"

  I got up on my toes and whispered my secret desire in his ear.

  His laugh boomed. "Only for you. And only because you look so much like Jamie's dear Elinor." He grabbed me and dipped me, holding me in the classic red dress pose from the show, looking into my eyes as if he was about to devour me. To kiss me with the full passion of Jamie's soul.

  When he pulled me up, I had to fan myself. He laughed. Austin and Sam clapped. And then we did every pose we could fit into the remaining four minutes, including one of the four of us together.

  Connor signed the picture of him and me, For Blair, From Elinor's biggest fan, Connor Reid.

  All too soon, the moment had passed. Our session was over.

  "I don't envy you having to smile for the camera all afternoon," I told Sam and Connor. "We did enough of it as your doubles waiting to get into the panel. My smile muscles are sore already."

  "The writer's cramp is the worst of it," Sam said.

  As we were leaving, Connor reminded us, "You'll be at the party this evening?"

  Austin and I nodded.

  "Wouldn't miss it," Austin said.

  Connor called over one of the security staff. "See my friends out the back way, will you? They'll attract too much attention if they leave through the crowds."

  Austin shook his hand. "Thanks, man."

  And then we left them to the line waiting to see them. Our escort led us out through the back of the hotel. It was raining and there was a short uncovered gap we had to walk to get back to the convention center across the street. I struggled to get my umbrella out.

  Austin took it from me and opened it left-handed. He held it over my head, still in his left hand. "Let me. You have your hands full keeping your skirts out of the puddles."

  I looked up at the tiny one-person umbrella doubtfully. It was usually big enough for me. Whether it would cover all of my skirts was another matter. "Thank you. You'll get wet."

  His grin was eerily, and beautifully, like Jamie's. "My plaid is made for the rain. This kilt's sturdy wool is milled right here in the Pacific Northwest. It can take a little moisture. That beautiful fabric of your gown, however…" He cleared his throat. "If you don't mind me walking back with you?"

  "Thank you," I said again, pleased with the tremor of shyness in his manner. "I'd love it." And was surprised I meant it.

  As I pulled my skirts up, Austin glanced at my delicate French heels, and the puddles all around, and frowned. "I'll gladly toss my kilt over any puddles should it come to that," he said.

  I laughed. "Aren't you naked beneath that kilt?"

  He laughed back. "Maybe."

  "Let's hope it doesn't come to that," I said. "Or maybe I should be naughty and hope it does."

  A breeze kicked up, so typical of Seattle. It came off the water of the sound and blew my umbrella in Austin's hand.

  "A word of advice from someone who has some experience with skirts and wind—hang on to your kilt, laddie," I said. "Lest it blow up and give us a show."

  "That's why kilts are made of heavy wool," he said. "It holds its own in the wind."

  "The blessings of heavy fabric." My heart, which had been dead since my breakup with Nigel, was starting to flicker.

  "After you," he said. "Or maybe alongside you."

  We step
ped out into the rain together, with him holding the umbrella over my head.

  Chapter 7

  Austin

  Beneath the covered area at the entrance to the convention center, I lowered the umbrella, willing the moment not to end. I'd enjoyed walking with Blair more than my time in the company of any other woman I could remember. Even knowing I'd see her again at the party, I didn't want to let her go. I had to get to know her better. I had to know if she was single. No ring. But that didn't mean she wasn't in a relationship with some lucky guy. She didn't act it, but…

  I was used to the competitive Seattle dating scene, where men were in fierce competition for women. It was clichéd to say all the good ones were taken. But for the last several years before our app took off, that had certainly been the case. Most of the good women were taken. When one popped onto the market, she was quickly snapped up. I didn't want to get my hopes up. But I had to know before I made a fool of myself unnecessarily.

  "Wait here," I said. "Let me shake this umbrella off far enough away that I don't splatter you."

  "Thank you," she said.

  Her eyes were beautiful and hard to pry my gaze away from.

  "You did an expert job of keeping me dry. Without having to resort to losing your kilt," she said when I handed her shaken and folded umbrella back to her. "Especially left-handed. You're a rightie, aren't you?"

  "I am." I held the door open for her.

  We both laughed at her attempts to navigate the doorway sideways.

  "I feel like a sand crab, going around the world sideways like this." She smiled.

  She looked ravishing. And, though we were back in the relative anonymity of the main conference, where not many people recognized Jamie characters, she was drawing a hefty share of male attention.

  That damn dress of hers was the culprit. Men love breasts. And hers were fine and finely showcased, shoved up and nearly bare in that dress. The dress also made her waist look waif thin, like I could wrap my hands around it. How big her hips were were anyone's guess, hidden as they were beneath those panniers. But my guess was they completed the perfect golden ratio we guys love.

  For me, it was more than her looks that attracted me. Could I say I admired her brains and sense of humor? And her confidence. That was no hokey come-on. I meant it.

  I didn't want to let the moment go. I've never been suave or bold around women. Coming off watching her in Connor's arms and the dip he did with her…

  How did a regular guy like me compete with a celebrity with his charisma and looks? My matchmaker, Ashley, had coached and coached me on what women liked. And how to make a move that wouldn't scare a woman off.

  "You look anything but like a crab," I said.

  Women don't often know how insecure men are at the thought of putting ourselves out there. Some guys cover it by being douches who are overconfident and crass. Some act indifferent. Others come on too strong.

  I was standing in the middle of the Comicon crowd, among my peers, my crowd, my fellow aficionados. About to make a move with my heart pounding. Knowing I was inadequate compared to Connor. If she rejected me, it would be obvious. The other guys would circle in for the kill. The hell if I'd let that happen without giving a chance with her a shot.

  My phone buzzed constantly in my pocket. Probably the guys texting to see where the hell I was. They could wait.

  "You know," I said in my Jamie accent, "as this is your first Comicon, I could show you around if you like? Give you the lay of the land."

  Her lips parted. She looked into my eyes. "I would love that. Especially if you could show me where to get something to eat. I'm starved! The party isn't until seven. I'll start shaking from hunger long before that."

  "My pleasure." I was grinning ear to ear.

  "And after that, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to see the show floor and tour the booths. I promised myself I'd get my aunt a souvenir."

  Blair

  Austin found us a table at one of the crowded eateries on the ground floor of the convention center.

  He insisted on buying lunch. "I owe you for this." He held up his taped hand. "Cheaper than paying for a visit to your office."

  Lunch was just a sub sandwich and chips. But the dining options weren't extravagant at the convention center, mostly fast food places. I was happy to sit, sip a pop, and eat almost anything at this point.

  He managed to carry a tray to the table, balancing it in his left hand.

  "If that's bothering you, I can write you a prescription for painkillers," I said. "You should at least take another ibuprofen."

  He shook his head. "I'm fine."

  I quickly noticed that although most of the Comicon crowd didn't recognize him as Jamie, Austin was attracting the attention of every costumed Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn in sight. He seemed genuinely oblivious. He really had no idea how attractive and hot he was. Which was, of course, part of his appeal.

  "That was a tough crowd," he said. "I had to fight my way through a mob of supervillains to place our order. Good thing I've been working out and bulking up." He winked eerily like Connor.

  I laughed with him. "You've done a great job of getting in kilt shape to play Jamie. Connor works out for hours a day to look good in his kilt."

  He laughed. "Thanks for the comparison. I have a personal trainer named Stryker. He's a tyrant. Works the guys and me hard. He's even run us through Connor's workout a time or two."

  "I've seen Connor's workouts," I said. "He posts them online." I took a sip of my pop. "I'm impressed anyone can get through even half of one. How did you get started with your trainer? Have you been with him long?"

  Austin shrugged. "Seven or eight months now. My matchmaker, Ashley, got us started with Stryker. It's part of her matchmaking program. She fixes you up before she sets you loose on an unsuspecting female population."

  I laughed at his self-deprecating manner. "Fixes you up!" I stared at him. "What did you look like before?"

  "You don't want to know," he said. "I'm a coder, an app developer, a gamer. I sit with my butt in a chair for hours on end. Ashley is a brave woman to take the guys and me on. But then, she's being paid well to do it by our friend Lazer."

  I ran my gaze over him. I couldn't imagine him as anything but toned and ripped. "The billionaire?"

  He nodded.

  I still couldn't imagine him as an ugly duckling. "What else did she do for you?"

  He looked almost embarrassed. "Oh, the whole package. Hair. Clothes. Taught us how to be suave around the ladies." He wiggled his eyebrows. "Or tried to. Turning us into ladies' men is a never-ending process."

  "Isn't all of life?" I found him charming. "How does it work, working with a matchmaker? Are you looking for a wife?"

  He hesitated.

  "I'm sorry," I said. "Too personal, too soon? It's not my business whether you want a wife or not."

  He shrugged again. "If I found the right woman. As for the matchmaking process, people are always curious. It's simple. Ashley does the footwork of looking for a match for us and acts as an intermediary and coach.

  "She has a database of women who are interested in finding a match. She matches the men and women by interests. Screens them so that there aren't any scammers and interviews potential matches before she sets people up.

  "It's always the man's job to ask the women out. Ashley will call me with a potential date for me and run her past me to judge my interest. If I like the sound of the woman, Ashley contacts her. If the woman is interested too, Ashley lets me know and gives me her contact info. And I ask the woman out."

  "As a woman," Blair said, "I like the sound of it. It sounds safer than meeting someone purely online and taking a chance by meeting them in person. You don't want to run into a psycho."

  He nodded. "Women do tend to feel safer."

  "And that's it?" I asked, genuinely curious. "Do you let her know how the date went or anything?"

  "We have what Ashley calls date postmortems where we tell her whether we'd like to
see the other person again. And if not, why not. What wasn't to our tastes. What we think the other person could do better the next time they're out with a date.

  "Ashley acts as the intermediary to deliver the blow." He smiled. "But she softens those blows as much as she can. Ashley has being diplomatic down to a science. She delivers the feedback as positively and gently as possible.

  "Even given all that, it's not always easy to hear. You get used to it after a while." He took a breath. "As crazy as it sounds, now that I've gotten some experience with the system, it's easier to see how often the rejection isn't personal. It's just a mismatch.

  "Two people who look good together on paper meet and find there's just no physical chemistry. Even though you'd think there should be. Or their senses of humor don't match. Something indefinable is off. There's no way to fix it. As Ashley likes to remind us, finding true love is as much an art as a science. The guys and I wish it were all science."

  "I bet," I said, nodding. "Science is so much simpler. If only we could isolate the chemical sequence that happens when we fall in love…"

  "A woman of science who thinks like I do," he said.

  "Have you enjoyed working with a matchmaker so far?"

  He shrugged. "I've met a lot of interesting women. And remained friends with many of them. Thanks to Ashley's feedback loop, I've learned even more about myself. How to be a friend to woman. How to listen to them.

  "I like to think I'm a better dater and potential mate than I used to be. A better man. And on the plus side, I no longer have to sit by, frustrated and insecure, while a woman I'm interested in ignores my texts and calls. I don't have to wonder what went wrong and what I could do better. Ashley has knocked the rough edges off me. So far none of the potential matches have stuck. But I remain optimistic I'll find the right woman yet."

  I nodded, thoughtful and stunned, unable to believe this gorgeous guy was available. What was wrong with Seattle women?

  I also noted how subtly he'd let me know he was available.

  "How about you?" he asked. "You seem interested in matchmaking. If you're looking, I can give you Ashley's contact info. Mention my name if you get in touch with her. If I'm lucky, she might even give me a referral fee."