Jennifer Probst - Searching for Someday

“You’re not afraid we’ll take all of Jane’s money and match her with a con artist?”

Slade shook his head. “Nah, I still think you’re misguided by mistaken beliefs, but you’ll take care of Jane.”

She thought of him alone, in his beautiful apartment, working night and day to counsel heartbroken couples, reaffirming that there is no hope or happily ever after. No. He deserved more, dammit, even though she wasn’t meant to be his. “I think you should stay on as a client.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“Because I don’t only match couples who want the big ending, you know. There are plenty of women out there who hold the same belief as you do, and they’re wary of getting involved again. You said you wanted a companion. A friend. Maybe a family down the line. What if there’s a match for you with a woman with the same ideals? I’ll have Kennedy go back to the beginning and we’ll give it another shot.”

Slade studied her in the dim light. “I can’t keep up with you.”

“Good, don’t try. Just give us one more shot.”

“No more hot yoga or makeovers?”

Kate laughed. “No, you completed the process. We’ll just refit the puzzle pieces and see if we can match you with someone more your kind. Less . . .”

“Pollyanna?”

She scowled. “Expectant. Deal?”

He put his feet up on the matching ottoman and leaned back. “Can I skip the mixers?”

“Maybe. I’ll leave it in Ken’s hands.”

“Okay. I’ll try again.”

A comfortable silence settled between them. The connection still sizzled, but there was a deeper softness to it, almost as if by acknowledging the desire and accepting it, they were able to move forward. Kate sipped her brew, and the flicker of the movie on the massive screen pulled her attention.

“Oh, my God, one of my faves. The Hangover ! The original!”

“Me, too. Turn it up.”

She pumped up the volume and watched the city of Vegas sprawled before her. “Classic.”

“Not as much as Office Space , though.”

She gasped. “You love that too? I watch it all the time. Have every line memorized.”

“Women hate that movie.”

She stuck out her tongue and pulled the fleece blanket over her weary legs. “Don’t be chauvinistic. I’m a comedy addict.”

“All-time champion?”

She crinkled her nose and thought hard. “Still Wedding Crashers . Vaughn was pure genius.”

“Agreed.”

The heat from the seat warmed and softened her muscles, and Kate relaxed into the leather, the coffee hot on her tongue, the blanket soft on her body. She didn’t remember when she lay the mug down and decided it was almost time to go. Didn’t remember much of the conversation back and forth as they discussed the best comedies of all time and argued their fine points. Her last thought before the room went fuzzy was how much she liked Slade Montgomery, and how sad it was he didn’t believe in love.

SLADE WATCHED HER SLEEP. Sometime during their feisty dialogue, he realized she was fading, but he didn’t want to push her out the door. Robert had already stopped squeaking and dozed in his special bed, a doggy grin on his face from the day’s events. He waited till her head lolled to the side and golden strands of hair slid over her cheek.

Warmth radiated inside his chest. Who would’ve thought she shared his wicked sense of humor, love of banter, and obsession with raunchy comedies? He wished she were a divorcée, jaded and looking for a life of companionship rather than magical emotions. They’d be perfect together.

He held back a wimpy sigh and got up. Cleaned the mugs, turned out the lights, and flicked off the TV. She grunted softly and adjusted. His hands itched to carry her into his bed, strip her naked, and thrust between her thighs. Her scent still haunted him, and Slade swore he’d never be able to go to a carnival again without remembering her heady sugary scent, like spun cotton candy in his mouth when he tasted her. Instead, he did the right thing. Tucked the blanket carefully around her legs, smoothed back her tumbled hair, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She smiled in her sleep, and if he had a heart left to give, it would’ve broken right there.

Slade trudged into his room alone and left her asleep.

When he woke up in the morning, he headed out toward the living room, prepared to make her a killer breakfast, take care of Robert, and spend a little more time with her.

But she was gone.

The blanket was neatly folded and lay upon the table. Robert’s bowls were placed in the sink. His chest tightened with a strange feeling, and emptiness pulsed in his gut. She hadn’t even left a note. Just a vacant space that still smelled of her sweet scent, and a silence that cut through him with an agony he never experienced.

YOU WANT ME to set him up with another woman.”

Kennedy shared a glance with Arilyn. They had gathered at Kate’s house after work to go over the expo and play catch-up. They lounged around her living room—Arilyn cross- legged on the throw rug, Kennedy stretched out on the sofa, and Kate holding her throne in her recliner. They wore comfy sweats and T-shirts, and had already blown through most of the large cheese pie. A bottle of Chardonnay held only a few dregs left. The television droned the last credits of a weepy chick flick. Kate had lost the bet and Arilyn had won. Steel Daisies or something ridiculous like that. Robert snoozed contentedly in his doggy bed next to his bunny, still sated on the remains of the pizza crust Arilyn and Ken sneaked to him.

Kate had to give them credit; they’d left her alone most of the week and refused to pose questions regarding her night with Slade. She’d avoided telling her Kinnections crew in order to buy a bit more time to settle her emotions. She knew it cost Ken the most. Her friend actually had an eye twitch, bursting at the seams for all the details, so she’d finally broken down and invited them over for pizza night.

“Yes,” Kate finally answered. “I want you to set him up with another woman.”

Kennedy tapped her fuchsia nails against her lip and waited a few beats. “You did sleep with him, right?”

Kate gave up and gave in. “Yeah, I did.”

Ken arched a brow. “Well? Details, please. All of it.”

She sighed and briefly went over their encounter. Silence beat in the room for a while as her friends processed the information.

“God, Kate, you had a frickin’ orgasm your first time?” Ken groaned. “You are so lucky. It took me forever to even discover why women liked sex in the first place.”

Kate tilted her head. “No way. You didn’t climax your first time?”

Ken snorted. “Not even close. Until I met bad boy Caleb Street. He was three years older and drove a motorcycle. I snuck out one night from my window and he took me for a ride.” She gave a lusty sigh. “What a ride it was. After that I swore off nice men forever, they’re too disappointing. How about you, Arilyn?”

Arilyn shifted her strawberry hair to the other shoulder. “Nope. He didn’t even know what a clit was, let alone how to find it.”

Kate smothered a laugh at her friend’s crass statement. “Wow, I had no idea it was that hard. Actually, he gave me three.”

They stared at her as if she’d sprouted two heads. “Three?” Ken choked out. “He’s a master.”

Heat bloomed on her cheeks, but she felt a weird type of pride in her lover’s expertise. “Yeah, too bad my being a virgin totally freaked him out. I mean, really, what’s the big deal?”

Arilyn shook her head. “He was probably feeling too close to you. When men bond, the first thing they do is try to cut the ties. Sort of like a wolf caught in a trap. They’ll chew their own paw off just to get free.”