Searching for Perfect

by Jennifer Probst

He never missed a beat. "Bet you meet a lot of interesting people. Matchmaking agencies are growing bigger. You're savvy to get into such an industry."

  Her smile dazzled. "Thank you so much. I love my work. It's my entire life. I can't imagine ever giving it up for anything."

  Nate positioned his body so his legs straddled her stool. It was a power move that forced her to get close and personal. Fascinated, she waited as he gave an easy grin and closed the distance between them. She could see the perfect curve of his lip. "Anything?" he murmured. "Even love?"

  She waited for him to get buzzed for that one, but nothing happened. "The person who truly loves me would never ask me to give it up."

  "Touche. What type of hobbies do you enjoy, Wanda?"

  "Anything physical. Rock climbing, kayaking, hiking. I hate stationary type of sports."

  "Like what?"

  "Like golf. Golf sucks."

  The muscle by his eye ticked, then stopped. "Would you be willing to try golf? Maybe you'd like it."

  "I doubt it. I dislike boring men."

  "What type of man do you consider boring?"

  She smiled sweetly. "You know, nerd types. Engineers, accountants, careers involving science or math. Ick. I like the passionate, artistic, creative types. The brooding actor or passionate writer or inspired yoga teacher. What do you do, Nate?"

  His gaze shred past her barriers and ripped them off. "I'm an aerospace engineer. I love golf. I can't write, do art, and I suck at Zumba. But I think you're an incredible woman and would love to get to know more about you. Have dinner with me."

  Dizziness swooped through her. She clutched the edge of the bar to steady herself, but he was already there, grabbing her arm in a strong, stable grip. Kennedy pursed her lips and stood her ground. "We're complete opposites. I don't think it will work between us. But thanks for the conversation."

  A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. "Tell you what. You answer one question for me. If you get it right, I'll prove we're meant to try dinner at least. You get it wrong, I'll politely step away and thank you for your time."

  Again, she waited for the buzzer that never came. Damn you, Kate. Intrigued, she studied him under her lashes. "What question?"

  "You have to agree to the deal first. Get it right, I buy you dinner. Deal?"

  "What if I just lie and say I don't know it?"

  He moved to whisper the answer in near her ear. "You won't. I trust you."

  A shudder wracked her body at his intimate tone. His breath rushed warm and sweet and stirred the hair at her temple. "Okay. Ask your question."

  "I'm a physicist who works on researching advanced propulsion in rockets. I base many of my theories and core findings on Newton's Third Law of Motion."

  She feigned boredom. "So?"

  "What is the main assumption in Newton's law?"

  The air left her lungs in a soft whoosh. Shock overtook her and claimed her words. Her mouth unhinged and Kennedy realized she must look ridiculous. She snapped her mouth closed. "You can't ask me that question."

  "Why not?" he drawled.

  "Because, because it's impossible. A makeover consultant doesn't know science and physics and all that stuff. Ask me something else."

  "But that's the question we agreed on," he pointed out. "If you don't know the answer, I understand. Remember, I trust you to tell me the truth."

  She glared, hating him for putting her in this delicate position. For God's sake, how could he sense something no one else ever knew about her? That underneath all her girly clothes and flirty actions and sarcastic wit, she was a closet nerd? Sure, they had tossed around a few ideas about velocity during their ice cream outing, but this seemed different. She'd been distracted before, lulled into a false sense of security by the sugar rush--but right now she was stone cold sober. And his gaze challenged her, as if he was openly forcing her to admit she knew things she shouldn't. Things she denied. Her past reared up to haunt her. All those years stuck in her room, alone, had turned her into a book freak. The clear lines of math and science had soothed her need for answers and fed her brain, but she'd forced herself to become someone else, and made sure that knowledge of Manolos and the latest hot handbag took the place of aerospace dynamic theory and Newton's Laws of Motion.

  She'd lie. He'd never know. Hell, it was a ridiculous scenario anyway, and Kate should have been hitting that damn button already. She set her jaw. Opened her mouth. And spoke.

  "In every interaction, there is a pair of forces acting on the two interacting objects. The size of the forces on the first object equals the size of the force on the second object. The direction of the force on the first object is opposite to the direction of the force on the second object. Forces come in pairs. Therefore, Newton's law assumes for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction."

  Triumph gleamed in his eyes. Kennedy stared at him, horrified but somehow helpless to avert her gaze. He brought the whole charade home by lifting her hand to his lips, and pressing a hot kiss in the center of her palm. "Thank you, Wanda. And now it will be my pleasure to take you to dinner."

  "I--I--I--"

  "That was incredible!" Kate shrieked. She rushed over and practically jumped up and down. "I can't believe it. You listened to us and followed through exactly. You were nonjudgmental, focused, funny, and intelligent. Kennedy, wasn't that a triumph?"

  She forced a weak smile. "Yeah. Really great stuff."

  Arilyn floated over. "What a pleasure to watch. I can't wait till Ken sets up your mixer, I think you're going to be surprised at the number of quality matches you'll have. Thanks for having an open mind. And we're really sorry about the buzzer."

  Nate smiled. "No problem. I guess I did need a bit of a hard-core approach."

  Kate laughed and put her hands on both of their shoulders. "I think--oh!"

  With a sharp yelp, her friend crashed onto the floor in a heap of limbs. Nate threw his stool back and knelt down. "Are you okay?"

  Kate's blue eyes widened with horror. Oh, no. She must have tripped on those wicked heels Kennedy had forced her to buy. She joined him on the floor, and they all crowded around Kate. "I'm sorry, Kate, I should've never made you buy those heels. They're walking death contraptions. Here, let me help you up."

  "No! Ugh, I m-m-mean, no thank y-y-you. I got this." She crawled on her hands and knees and jumped up. "Um, s-s-sorry, guys, I forgot I have an important appointment and I gotta go. Arilyn, will you walk me out?"

  Arilyn shot her a confused look. "Sure. Are you sure you're okay? You look like someone shocked you. Did the buzzer backfire or something?"

  "I'm f-f-fine." Her laugh came out high and a bit crazy. "Stay here and finish up. I'll see you tomorrow. Nice to role-play with you, Nate."

  She bolted out of the restaurant. Arilyn gave a half wave and followed her out.

  "Weird," Kennedy said. "Must be all those wedding plans. Makes a woman a little crazy."

  "I bet."

  They stared at each other. The faint sounds of glasses clinking and people chattering drifted to her ears. Waves of heat radiated around them and tried to pull her in. "You did good."

  "You owe me dinner."

  Her heart stopped, then pounded so loud it echoed in her ears. "No, Wanda owed you dinner. It was role-play."

  "You knew Newton's Third Law of Motion."

  Annoyance flickered through her. "Who cares? Every student learns that in high school. Big deal, I remembered."

  "You lie about yourself, Kennedy. Pretend to be someone you're not because you think it's easier. You think it'll protect you."

  Annoyance broadened into pure temper. "Ah, so you're an expert on me now, huh? Just because you're my client doesn't mean you have any right to know about me on a personal level. Back off. My job is to find you love and I intend to do it."

  "What if you already did?"

  His question blew through her defenses and shattered rock and brick and stone. Kennedy couldn't breathe, couldn't talk, and for the first time in her lif
e, felt on the verge of a panic attack. She shook her head and denied his words. "Don't. You'll only end up hurting yourself. Do you understand?"

  Frustration simmered in his eyes, on his face. He seemed to choose his words carefully, as if he had reached a turning point and made a rational decision to take a leap. "What if I believe in the risk? What if I think she's worth it?"

  The panic slowly drained away and was replaced by a bitter realization and sadness she didn't want to deal with. Hell, she had no idea how to deal with it. In some bizarre way, Nate had worked his way past her walls and reached a part of her she'd never realized she had. But she knew it was an illusion. She'd made a promise to find him happiness, and it wasn't with her. Nate deserved a like-minded woman to settle down with, have babies with, and grow old with. Someone with no screwed-up issues. She shone on the surface, was broken on the inside, and could never give Nate the depth he needed. Her punishment in this life was the constant craving to move on, searching for something that wasn't even out there, a peace and stability with the one man she never seemed to find. No, she wasn't good for him, and she needed to protect him from a temporary weakness of attraction and sex.

  Her heart hardened. She made sure she spoke in a cold, firm voice. "She's not, Nate. And she never will be. Not with you."

  He jerked back only once. Stiffened his shoulders. And nodded. "Got it." He disguised the hurt, but she knew her comment hit home and pierced deep. "What's next?"

  "Saturday. Mall. Meet you at ten?"

  She wished his gaze didn't burn, disrobe, and try to expose her for the fake she was. Kennedy made sure she kept the bright smile pasted to her face. A heavy silence pulsed between them with unspoken words. "Fine." Then he left without another word.

  Kennedy squeezed her arms around her chest for warmth and reminded herself she had done the right thing for both of them.

  nine

  I HATE MALLS."

  Kennedy glanced over. Nate was definitely grouchy. Why were men never pumped to get new clothes and a sizzling look? Maybe it was some type of gene the male population lacked. She felt truly sorry for them all. "Cheer up. We have a game plan, and I'm not dragging you in and out of a million stores. We need to hit the eye place first."

  She walked with purpose into the vision center and spoke to the woman at the front desk. "Dr. Murphy is just running a little late. Can you take a seat?"

  "Sure." She led Nate to the waiting area, but he didn't sit. Just paced back and forth. "Geez, a bit over the caffeine limit today?"

  "I don't like eye doctors."

  She laughed, then realized he was dead serious. A panicked gleam lit his eyes, barely visible from behind his thick frames. "She's not going to hurt you. I just want to make sure she fits the contact lenses correctly."

  "No contacts."

  She studied him. The stubble sculpted his jaw and lined his upper lip, giving him an edge. His brows were now perfectly separated, and the slight wave in his hair set off the hint of blond, warming his skin. But her piece de resistance would be the glasses, and she needed to address his concerns. "Why not?"

  His jaw tightened. "I don't like them."

  She remained patient. "Why?"

  He leaned in and hissed out the words. "I don't like anything in my eye, okay? I am not sticking my finger at my eyeball. Forget it. Let's just get out of here."

  She bit back her smile. "I hear you. Everyone has something--mine happens to be the GYN. I see stirrups and shudder."

  "TMI, Ken."

  She laughed. "Sorry. Look, just go through the exam and we'll talk. I don't want to make you do something you hate, but the types they have nowadays are really different. Will you promise to try? If you hate it, we'll get you new frames and forget it."

  He let out an aggravated breath. "Fine. But I won't like it."

  "Nate Dunkle?"

  He shot her a glare and followed the doctor into her office. The exam was short, and they were set up at the counter to try some contacts. A pretty woman in a white coat lined up some supplies. Her eyes were a startling blue green that contrasted dramatically with her black hair. She introduced herself as Tracey and went into her spiel about the way to wear contacts, the kind the doctor recommended, and how to maneuver them.

  "What are the statistics on eye damage from contact lenses?" Nate asked.

  "Umm, I'm not sure, but as long as you follow the instructions for care, it's pretty low."

  "How low?"

  Kennedy slid her hand over the counter and squeezed his hand. Hard. "Nate, most of the population wears them. Give it a try."

  Tracey seemed to sense his fear and smiled brightly. "You'll look amazing. Your current frames are a bit outdated."

  "How many instances have occurred with the lenses scratching a person's cornea and causing blindness?"

  Tracey blinked. "Umm, I'm sure I can find out for you if I Google it."

  Kennedy squeezed again. "Just try it. Now."

  He muttered something under his breath and took the lens. Tracey guided him through the procedure, until both were safely in his eyes. He blinked madly and stared into the mirror. "How do they feel? They look amazing," Tracey said.

  It took a while for him to answer. "Not bad. Actually, I can't even feel them."

  The assistant lit up. "See, I told you. Why don't you wear these for the day, and if they work, we'll order a three-month supply."

  He kept staring in the mirror as if fascinated by the technology. "Damn, everything's so clear. I can see better than with glasses."

  Tracey nodded with enthusiasm. "The frames actually limit your line of vision. I'm so happy you like them. You look amazing."

  Kennedy stifled her giggle. The woman seemed to know only that one word--amazing. But what the hell. She seemed enchanted by Nate. Another good opportunity to see if he'd learned a few lessons. "Doesn't he?" she cooed. "Wait till the females get a look at you."

  Tracey looked confused. "You're not married?"

  "No, Nate's free and single."

  Tracey sharpened her gaze. Took in his hair, face, and new eyes. Kennedy noticed she winced at his outfit but was able to overlook it for now. "How wonderful. Well, Nate, I'd be glad to give you my number and you can call me anytime with your questions."

  He was so intrigued with his reflection, he didn't answer. Kennedy nudged him again. Harder. "Oh! Yes, sounds good. I guess they make color contacts, too. I like the ones you're wearing."

  Tracey shook her head. "Oh, I'm not wearing contacts; this is my real eye color."

  "You have beautiful eyes," Kennedy offered.

  "No, they're contacts. I can see the lines around her pupil. Her real eye color is brown."

  Tracey stopped smiling. "You must be mistaken."

  Uh. Oh.

  "No, I'm not. Just like your hair, it's obviously not black since I can see the roots coming in. How come you changed it? I like brown hair with brown eyes."

  Tracey froze. Her voice dripped icicles. "I'll write up your bill, Mr. Dunkle. If you have a problem, you can call the customer care center." She stalked away, hair swishing, and Kennedy dropped her face into her hands and groaned.

  "What? What'd I say?"

  Kennedy wondered if another dog collar session with higher electrical shock capacity would make a difference. "You broke the cardinal rule again. Again. I thought you read Cosmo!"

  "I do. I never said a word about her body. Or her weight, or age. I gave her a compliment."

  She lowered her voice to a hiss. "Some backhanded compliment. You mentioned her roots. And called her a liar. Yeah, that'll get you to the first date."

  His mind clicked for a few moments. Finally, he groaned. "Crap, I did. Sorry, I was distracted by being able to see so clearly. It's intriguing how sharp the world looks."

  "Forget it. Let's get out of here and get you some new clothes."

  She averted the stores with loud rap music and teen clothes, and started in J.Crew. She wove in and out of the Saturday crowds with the ease of an expert.
He stumbled behind her, trying to keep up, muttering "Excuse me" to a bunch of people before reaching their destination. The buzz of adrenaline lit up her blood, and she needed to breathe deeply to remain calm. God, she loved shopping. Everything about it revved her up. The limitless possibilities of sales, new looks, confidence, and hope. And shoes. Oh, my, the shoes . . .

  "Ken?"

  "Yeah?"

  "I'm scared. You have a weird look on your face."

  She rolled her eyes. "Wait here." She hit the register and came back with measuring tape. "I need to confirm your sizes. Stick your arms out to the side and hold still."

  He regarded her as if she had asked him to strip naked and dance on the corner of Times Square. "I'll tell you my sizes."

  Kennedy wielded the tape as a weapon. "I already know you wear the wrong size. Your pants are too big for you."

  "I beg your pardon."

  She tamped down another laugh. He was so damn funny in his own way. "Not around the crotch. The waist." The words shot out of her mouth, and automatically her gaze lowered. She stopped laughing.

  Suddenly, an image of what he would look like naked clouded her vision. Back off, girlfriend. Fantasizing about her rocket scientist was off limits. "Arms out."

  This time, he obeyed. And the whole time, his gaze burned into her. Ate her up. And licked her clean. Her fingers trembled slightly as she wrapped the tape around his waist. His distinct scent hit her nostrils, and she fought the urge to bury her face into his chest and breathe in deep. His muscles jumped under her touch, and stiffened. Kennedy tried to breathe and stay calm. What was going on? She'd never been attracted to a client this intensely--let alone this type of man--in her life. "Thirty." Her voice came out husky. She eased her way up.

  How had she ever thought he wasn't toned? It must have been the ill-fitting clothes. His actual chest was quite broad and had a delicious hardness underneath the cotton fabric that she itched to explore. What type of lover would he be? All focused and serious? By the book? Or so intent on her pleasure nothing else would matter?

  A shudder wracked her spine. "Forty," she squeaked out.

  He stared at her, unblinking, a flare of pure male lust gleaming from his greenish eyes. "Must be all that Zumba working for me."

  Ken bore down and slid the tape up and around his neck. Swallowing hard, she managed to touch the two ends together. Then looked up.

  His lips were a woman's dream. Full, sculpted, with that sexy stubble wrapping them around like a Christmas gift all for her. His features boasted new definition, now that the bulky frames were gone. Sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw gave him a hint of the badass type she'd always been weak for. His shoulders and biceps suddenly seemed massive and meaty, with enough power to lift her and hold her against the wall while he pounded inside her and . . .