by Kiki Howell
"Oh no," Sam said, leaning in close to Gerri 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. 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."
"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 are 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 Gerri of course," Gerri 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 world."
"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."
"Which means you are looking for something different. You are done with the dating scene, and so you want something different. 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 will not, Sam yelled in her own head.
"You keep saying that," Sam protested, "and I'm sure to you that doesn't sound dangerous at all, this trusting you with this crazy idea of dating one guy to meet another. But how is this fair to the first guy? Are you not using him? 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. 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, but 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 around who wouldn't let you fix him up. Hell, maybe I will like the guy. He does sound smart to ignore your intrusions."
When Gerri 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 Gerri 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 some. 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, Gerri'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 off balance 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, gagging at the thought if anyone else could see her shake and sway, out of her element on all fronts.
Ian Michalson, the guy Gerri had set her up with in order to find her so-called savior, apparently had more than enough money to burn. Gerri 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 Gerri 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 Gerri tell her of wild conquests and victories at matchmaking had unnerved her some. The woman had a stellar record beyond belief, though 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 h
er 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 Gerri. 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 recent memories. Just family stuff. Sorry. 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."
"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 this 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.
"Ridiculously nice, in a mind-blowing sort of way, isn't it, miss," Jacob added, his low voice so close to a growl it sent shivers across her neck. "I somehow never get used to it myself. It tends to awe me no matter how many times I step into it."
He stopped talking abruptly, given his rush of words, only to look away from her with much the same haste to admire his own shoes. When she followed, the black loafers were nice, but nothing compared to looking at his face.
Shit, stop it! Just stop it! You are not going to carry on so about this guy. He's not going to be your savior. He can't be. Keep focused on...um...Ian, yes, Ian here. Your date.
"I thought you'd long become unimpressed with my wealth, Jacob," Ian stated, his good-natured teasing confirming them to be the best of friends, a condition she found, for some unknown reason, to begin to calm the sudden rush of butterflies in her stomach.
"I've grown used to it in a way, not surprised anymore, but not unimpressed either. Also, I must add, most of what you own is not to my taste, but not so much that I can't appreciate it for its beauty." Jacob followed with a boyish laugh after having stated the string of words in such a formal fashion.
"Jacob prefers his cabin out in the woods, where you can find him the few days I give him off from time to time. In opposition, the room I've given him to stay in on the other end of my penthouse, which tops the building I own, he didn't care for. Complained about so much, in fact, I let him redecorate it to his own caveman style" Ian said, as if a rebuff, still a light teasing, though the topic caught her interest.
"Oh, I'd love to live in a log cabin. In fact, my yoga studio is far outside of town in an old retreat house in a park. It is mostly wood, floors, and walls, with great windows to view the woods that surround it," she nodded to Jacob.
Before he could answer back, Ian interjected, "That's right, Gerri tells me that you are a yoga teacher. You run your own studio. How did you manage getting an old retreat house? I did look it up."
"Persuasion. I'd gone on many a retreat at this park growing up. I'm more the outdoor type over fancy private jets, no offense."
"None taken, but go on with your story," Ian said, though she caught herself looking at Jacob still and had to forcibly redirect her attention, much to her dismay, which unnerved her further.
"Well," she continued, trying to force her brain to form actual sentences, suddenly concerned with how she sounded, the impression she was making, "I found out through a friend that one old retreat center, more just a large room that had a large entrance way to greet guests in, which had been built to be reserved for large gatherings, weddings, etcetera, because of it's location a bit off the beaten path, had not been used much in the past few years. So, I called up the park and made them an offer to rent it, at a reduced rate, for a year."
She stopped to catch her breath after the string of babbled phrases had escaped her, her cheeks flushing crimson again. She'd have physically kicked herself if possible. Instead, she attempted to realign her thoughts and continued on. She'd never found before herself to be so talkative on a first date.
"Anyway, after some negotiating, they took my offer, let me hang a little sign on the door, and agreed to let me do some minor renovations before opening it up as a yoga studio. It has no direct access, as in you have a ten minute hike from the nearest parking lot to your car, but people seem to like the getting away feeling when coming to my classes. I specialize in a lot of restorative yoga along with meditation, although we do offer a few power flow classes and such here and there. While I have some regulars on monthly memberships, I get a lot of new customers, too, who have come to vacation in the park. Wow, sorry, listen to me go on. Get me started on my studio, and you will have to tell me to shut up."
"No, I'm impressed," Ian said, gesturing her toward the seats in the main cabin of the plane.
"I'm impressed that you have a fireplace along with a couch that looks comfier than the one I own, and several recliners in your plane," she offered, to return the compliment, worried she might have hurt his feelings not giving this impressive display of wealth it's due.
As she took a seat on the couch next to Ian, Jacob, who had taken one of the recliners, sitting forward, his arms on his massive thighs, interjected, "I would love to see your studio. Not that I know the first thing about yoga, other than I'm sure I can't bend that way, but still, the place itself sounds amaz
ing." He stopped a second after glancing at Ian, before turning back to her to continue, "And, with that said, I shall butt out of your date, stop being the friend, and go back to just being a bodyguard. Enjoy your evening, you two."
"Thank you, Jacob," Ian said, amusement lighting his eyes as if to accuse them both of falling into Gerri's plan.
Oh, hell no. Not that easy. This guy will not be my savior. I will not have one. I refuse.
Sensing a moment of animosity between the two, though slight, barely detectable to those who had not her gifts, or had not taken the time to refine them as she had, stopped her internal protests. She'd turned her body more toward Ian then, and had continued on in conversation with him for the remainder of the hour flight. It hadn't gone bad. The conversation had actually flowed easily. The appetizers and drinks served to them to hold her over until dinner had been phenomenal.
Actually, she'd have to admit, if only to herself, that so far, this had been the best fix up she'd been on in a long time. Not at all painful. Still, Ian was not her type exactly. But he was a genuinely nice guy. While they could carry on a conversation without issue, they had little in common. Open and accepting of others, they'd discussed and debated on different sides of issues without ever venturing toward argument. A rare trait in a man, especially one in a position of wealth, she assumed, though she hadn't met many, so she thought to dismiss the stereotype. In addition to the little they did have in common, she also could sense a mutual lack of attraction toward each other. This soothed the guilt she'd carried with her since agreeing to this preposterous plan. With every glance at Jacob, she wanted out of it before she became another check on Gerri's list of successes. She refused to be that. She didn't want that. Sam found safety in focusing all of her attention on Ian when she could remind her wayward mind to do so.