by Theresa Weir
She peered surreptitiously through the glass, trying to see if the guy Armani had sent her to meet had arrived yet. Since there was only one person sitting alone, and that was a woman wearing a wide-brimmed hat, she determined that she’d arrived first.
She glanced down at her jeans and muddy sneakers and wished she’d gone home to change, but Mr. Stirling had taken longer than she’d anticipated, and she hadn’t wanted to be late for her date. Punctuality was an important trait to cultivate. She glanced down at her watch to see if her Mystery Man felt the same.
Five minutes to go until their designated meeting time. Unsure of the protocol of a matchmaker-made date, she hesitated to go inside. What if he thought she hadn’t shown up?
“Excuse me,” a man said from behind her.
Startled, she spun around.
“Do you know Armani?”
She had to tilt her head back to get a clear view of him. The matchmaker hadn’t been exaggerating after all.
He was tall and he really did look like he could bench press her with one hand. His dark hair was damp and his cheeks were flushed. He smelled like fresh soap.
Something in her responded to his primal call and she found herself swaying toward him slightly.
He arched an eyebrow and she realized she hadn’t answered his question.
She nodded. “I’m Jane. You must be Tarzan.”
She clapped her hand over her mouth as a heated blush burned not just her face, but her entire body. “I am so sorry,” she babbled. “I didn’t mean that. It was a stupid thing to say. It’s just that Armani woman called you that and somehow it came out of my mouth. I’m sorry.”
He’d appeared to be stern, but now he broke into an easy smile. He lifted a hand and gently rested his cool knuckles against her warm cheek, seemingly fascinated by her blush. He stared at her, dropped his voice and almost whispered, “She was right about what she called you.”
Her body heated up again, but this time it had nothing to do with embarrassment.
Mouth dry, she had to wet her lips. “What did she call me?”
“I don’t think we know each other well enough to say that kind of thing out loud,” he teased. “Especially in a public place.”
As though to prove his point, he lightly grabbed her elbow and pivoted her body to move her out of the way of an oncoming skateboarder.
“Shall we go inside?”
Jane nodded vigorously and immediately worried that it made her look desperate. “Only if you want to.”
Amusement twinkled in the depths of his dark eyes. “I’m up to trying something new if you are.” He reached past her for the door handle.
Jane placed her hand on his forearm to stop him. “Under one condition.”
He looked down at her, suddenly tense, waiting to hear her demand.
“You tell me your name.”
He relaxed. “You could just call me T.”
She shook her head, biting back a smile.
“Mr. T?”
A soft chuckle escaped her. “I’d prefer a name.”
“It’s Tom.” He extended his hand to her.
As she slid her fingers into his, sparks of sensation exploded up her arm. “Nice to meet you, Tom.”
“Nicer than I’d imagined,” he murmured.
Chapter 4
Tom sat across the table from Jane thinking that the crazy psychic, Armani, had been right about one thing. She’d said he’d recognize his date when he saw her, and he had. Just not in the destined-to-be-together way he imagined Armani had envisioned. He’d recognized Jane Bly immediately.
She was his prime suspect in a string of house robberies.
At first, when Aunt Ruby had said she’d wanted to hire him to investigate a rash of burglaries in her neighborhood, he’d thought she was taking pity on him. After all, it had only been a matter of months since he’d hung out his private investigator shingle and he hadn’t built up much clientele. But after talking to a couple of guys on the force, he’d come to realize it was a legitimate case.
He’d refused to take Ruby’s money, but had started to look into the break-ins. That’s when he’d first become aware of Jane Bly and her unfettered access to so many homes in the area.
And here she was sitting across from him, chewing on the straw sticking out of her water glass and fiddling with her spoon. If he didn’t think she was a criminal, he would have found her awkwardness oddly endearing.
Not that she was his type. He’d noted that the first time he’d sat in his car, taking surveillance photos of her. While her penchant for oversized t-shirts, jeans, and sneakers were the perfect uniform for someone who spent their days corralling a menagerie, he much preferred women who worked in offices and coordinated their outfits with care. Though he had to admit that the windblown wisps of auburn hair that escaped her utilitarian ponytail did hold a certain appeal. Her sparkling eyes and cute, elfin-like chin made him think she was some magical creature struggling to fit in in the regular world.
After the waiter took their order, Tom pretended this was a normal first date and asked a question, despite already knowing the answer. “What do you do, Jane?”
She pushed her glass away as though suddenly repulsed by it. “I’m a pet sitter.”
Her reply was matter-of-fact. Not that he’d expected her to admit to being a thief, but he wouldn’t have been surprised to catch a note of hesitation as she revealed her cover identity.
“What do you do?” she countered.
“I’m a part owner of a gym,” he replied smoothly. It wasn’t a lie. He really did own ten percent of his friend Mauricio’s business. If she chose to assume that his gym ownership was the way he made his living that was her fault.
“Impressive,” she murmured thoughtfully. “I imagine it takes a lot of capital with the need for space and equipment.”
He nodded, trying to look bored. The last thing he needed was her grilling him on a business plan he knew nothing about. “You sure ask a lot of questions.”
“Professional curiosity.” She shrugged an apology. “With the competition, I imagine it takes a lot of sweat equity. Demanding hours?”
He shrugged.
She nodded sympathetically. “I know how that goes.”
“What about you? Do you work odd hours?”
“Yes and no.”
Before she could elaborate, the waiter returned with their orders. He placed two heaping bowls of pudding in front of them. Tom’s was a rich golden brown. Jane’s was a color green not found in nature.
“Whipped cream?” the waiter asked. “It’s homemade.”
“Yes, please.” Jane’s eyes sparkled with delight.
“Not for me,” Tom murmured.
He thought he saw a flash of disappointment in Jane’s gaze, but her smile didn’t waver.
Bringing over a stainless steel whipped cream dispenser, the waiter spurted a more-than-generous helping atop the green pudding.
“Thank you.” Jane’s appreciation was genuine.
After the waiter left, she looked at Tom curiously. “You don’t like whipped cream?”
“Not on pudding.” He shook his head, trying to quell the thought that he’d like it on her. He forced himself to stay focused on the task at hand, interrogating the woman across from him without her knowing that he was doing it. “You were telling me about your hours?”
She blinked as though she’d been a million miles away and had forgotten their earlier conversation. “Was I?”
“Yup.”
Slipping a spoonful of sweet cream into her mouth, she tasted it carefully. “Heavenly,” she proclaimed, taking the empty spoon from between her lips and licking it clean.
The image of her licking him clean popped into his head, stirring desires he couldn’t afford to entertain. He gripped the side of the table, trying to get his traitorous body under control.
“Try some.” She held out her bowl to him.
He shook his head, unsure if it was the food he was refus
ing. Looking away from her to distract himself, he spotted a familiar face smirking at him from across the shop.
Brady.
He glared at his friend who responded by raising his water glass in a silent toast.
“Are you okay?” Jane asked worriedly.
Tom snapped his gaze back to her. “Yeah, sorry. A work thing came to mind. Speaking of which, when do you work again?”
“Crazy hours,” she admitted on a tired sigh.
It was then he noticed the smudges of shadow beneath her eyes, covered with make-up, but still there.
“Mostly I take care of people’s pets while they’re at work, but if they go on vacation, I do the early-morning and late-night shift too. It can make for some long days.”
Especially if part of that time is spent stealing from people who trust you with access to their most prize possessions.
“It’s a tradeoff.” She scooped up green stuff with her spoon. “Long hours versus the monotony of a cubicle job. Not a tough decision for me.” She winked at him with a mouth full of pudding.
Despite his best efforts to dislike the robber, he couldn’t help but grin back. He immediately told himself it was for the good of the case. He didn’t want to raise her suspicions. He hadn’t finished making his case against her.
“So how did you meet Armani?” she asked.
“At the dog park.”
She nodded her approval.
“How about you?”
“She answered the phone at my insurance company. I was calling in to report an accident, and by the end of our conversation, I’d agreed to let her fix me up.” She shook her head as though she still didn’t believe the way things turned out.
He knew the feeling well.
“So here we are,” she chirped.
“Do you do this kind of thing a lot?” He asked because he was trying to get a better read on her personality as a suspect, not because he was personally interested in her answer.
She wasn’t his type.
He had no personal interest in Jane Bly, only a professional one. He had no interest in any woman, not after Meghan. He liked it that way. He was happily single.
“No. I don’t do this often,” she said quietly, clasping a pendant that hung from a chain around her neck. He hadn’t noticed the antique necklace before. Brady was right. His power of observation was going. That, or she was such a distraction she’d thrown him off his game.
Reaching across the table, he plucked what he realized was a locket from her fingers so he could get a better look at it. He studied it carefully to see if it matched a description of any of the items stolen during the burglaries. “Family heirloom?”
“Yes.”
The strain in her voice was obvious. He raised his gaze from the necklace to her face.
She didn’t look guilty or remorseful. She stared at him, a feverish glitter sparkling in her eyes.
Returning the pendant to its resting place against her chest, his fingers brushed accidently against her sternum.
She jumped slightly and he withdrew his hand as though he’d been burned.
“It’s beautiful,” he said gruffly, thinking the bauble’s rightful owners would no doubt agree with him. “So why’d you agree to meet Armani? And why agree to meet me?”
“She’s very—” She paused, carefully casting about for the right word. “Persuasive and persistent.”
“And pushy.”
She chuckled. “That too.” She stirred her remaining pudding. “Are you sorry that you let her bully you into meeting with me?”
“No,” he answered honestly. It was the first real break he’d gotten in his case.
“Me neither.” Leaning closer, she reached across the table and placed her hand over his.
A current of awareness zipped through him, leaving his heart beating a little faster. He found himself wanting her to touch him in other places.
He looked down at her hand, usually the women he dated sported shiny manicures and tasteful jewelry, but Jane’s was unadorned except for an adhesive bandage wrapped around her pinky.
She awkwardly patted his hand twice and then pulled hers back to her side of the table.
He felt bereft at the loss of contact.
Bereft.
Even if she wasn’t his prime suspect, he shouldn’t be feeling that way about a woman he’d just met. What was wrong with him?
“I’ve got to go.” Jumping to his feet, he pulled out his wallet and tossed a twenty dollar bill on the table.
She looked up at him, eyes wide. “Is something wrong?”
“I-I just remembered I’ve got somewhere to be.” He pushed his chair under the table.
“Oh.” The hurt and confusion she infused in that single syllable socked him in the gut.
He glanced her face and saw that shadows had dimmed her eyes and she was biting her lower lip nervously.
“We’ll have to do this again,” he said quickly, wanting to make her feel better.
She narrowed her gaze suspiciously, making it clear she knew he was giving her the brush-off. She tilted her chin defiantly as though she didn’t want him to know he’d hurt her.
But he already did. And he felt terrible about it.
“Kent dog park?” he offered. “Tomorrow around three?”
Her gaze lightened. She nodded. “I’ll be there.”
He grinned. “Good. I’ll see you then.”
Her answering smile lit up her face.
Impulsively, he bent and pressed a kiss to her cheek before whispering in her ear, “It was nice to meet you, Jane.”
She shivered, whether it was because his breath tickled her ear or because she was affected by his nearness, he didn’t know. He didn’t really care though, since it gave him a primal sense of satisfaction.
He strode out of the shop, not trusting himself to look back at her, and wondered what he’d just gotten himself into.
Chapter 5
Jane watched the man Armani Vasquez had set her up with walk out of The Pudding Place without so much as a backward glance. She wondered if he was just walking out of the shop or walking out of her life for good.
She’d been hopeful about this one. The matchmaker had convinced her that he was the guy for her, and when she’d met Tom, Jane had felt a surge of optimism, or maybe it had just been hormones. She’d definitely been attracted to him, despite Armani’s claim that he was solid, and she’d thought he felt the pull between them too, but then he’d jumped up and left.
Tears prickled the back of her eyelids, but she refused to let them fall. Instead, she shoveled a heaping spoonful of pudding into her mouth.
“Geez, what did you do to scare him off?” a familiar voice asked.
Jane looked up to find the woman in the wide-brimmed hat frowning down at her.
“Alyssa?”
Without an invitation, Alyssa Montgomery, her new neighbor and best friend, slid into the seat Tom had occupied, shoving aside his half-eaten dessert.
“What are you doing here?” Jane asked.
“You didn’t really think I was going to let you on a blind date that was set up by a crazy psychic matchmaker you’d just met without back-up, did you?” Alyssa was an ex-cop, and as such seemed to think it was best to go through life with a tactical advantage.
“But,” Jane protested weakly.
“So why’d he run off like a dog spooked by a firecracker?” Alyssa asked.
“I don’t know.”
Alyssa waved over the waiter, who appeared confused that she’d suddenly reseated herself at another table. “I’ll have another rice pudding. No whip.”
“The whipped cream is the best,” Jane told her.
“So what happened? It looked like it was going so well with all that touching.”
“What touching?” Jane felt her cheeks growing warm.
“The cheek caress, the playing with your necklace, the hand holding.”
Other parts of Jane grew warm at the memories.
“And
then, boom, he’s outta here like his pants are on fire.”
Jane shrugged. “I don’t know. One minute things seemed to be going fine and the next…” She stabbed at her pudding with her spoon. “But he did say he’d meet me tomorrow.”
Alyssa peered at the green concoction. “What is that?”
“Pistachio.”
“It looks disgusting.”
“It’s good. A little nutty, just like me.” Jane laughed nervously. “Who else do you know who’d let themselves be set up by a matchmaker?”
The waiter returned, placing a bowl of cinnamon-topped rice pudding in front of Alyssa. “Anything else?”
“Do you know the guy who was sitting here?” the ex-cop asked.
He shook his head.
“Then nothing else.” She waved him away dismissively.
“Thank you,” Jane called after him, trying to make up for her friend’s brusque manner.
“What’s his name?” Alyssa asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t think he said.”
“You’re out on a date and you don’t exchange names?”
“Oh,” Jane replied, flustered. “I thought you meant the waiter.”
“I meant the bodybuilder.”
“Do bodybuilders even eat pudding?”
“His name, Jane,” Alyssa said testily. “What is his name?”
“Tom.”
“Tom what?”
“I dunno. He didn’t say.”
Alysaa scowled.
Jane hurried to add, “I didn’t tell him my last name either.”
She nodded approvingly. “Good thinking. So what did this Tom character say he does?”
“He owns a gym.”
“At least that’s something to go on,” Alyssa murmured.
“Go on?”
“To track him down.”
“Oh you don’t have to do that. I told you. He wants to meet up tomorrow.”
“I’ve got to figure out his name to run a background check on him.”
It was Jane’s turn to frown. While she understood that her friend was hard-wired to be suspicious of everyone she met, Jane wasn’t and she really didn’t want to be the kind of person who was. She wanted to believe that most people were generally trustworthy. “There’s no need to do that.”