to accept my help didn’t bode well for our relationship.
Finally she settled the bottle on my palm. Still she didn’t
step back; she wouldn’t give an inch, and her warm vanilla scent was completely
distracting. Of course she wouldn’t retreat, but neither would I. How the
bloody hell was I going to work with her?
Perhaps once I had time to adjust to the fact that she was
about my age, and attractive, my emotions would subside and I’d be able to keep
a professional distance while protecting her. I dropped two aspirin into her
palm. She watched me warily as she swallowed the medicine.
“What is important
is what happened in that café.”
“The fact that I fainted?” She rolled her eyes. “Wonderful,
yeah, let’s dwell on that. As if it’s not completely embarrassing.”
She started past me. I reached out, grasping her upper arm.
She froze, seemingly startled by my touch. Did she feel the connection? The
heat? I sure as hell did and I wasn’t completely sure it was normal. “It might
happen again.”
She tilted her head and our gazes clashed. For a moment,
neither of us said a word. The unmistakable sensation of electricity pulsed
between us. I wanted to blame it on the connection between Matchmaker and
Protector, but I’d never felt this way with Clarice.
“And how would you know that?” she asked, her voice husky.
I released my hold, but my palm still burned with the
feeling of her. “You need to sit.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’d rather not.”
I resisted the urge to curse. The woman was completely
impossible. “Your aunt was special, Ms. Watts.”
Her brows snapped together. “Special? When Grandmother
caught the gardener eating the roses, she called him special too.”
“No, not that. She was…she had…she could—” Bloody hell, how
did one explain? I paced away from her, attempting to grasp hold of a rational
thought, any thought. I’d practiced this conversation so many times in my head,
but never had I been this flustered. “Your aunt was revered by certain people,
for she had the uncanny ability to match soul mates.”
There. It was said. I turned to read her expression. Her
reaction was completely anticlimactic. She actually looked bored by it all. Had
she not heard me?
Slowly, she shook her head. “Soul mates?”
I nodded.
She laughed.
I frowned. “I’m serious.”
She paused, amusement turning into disbelief and confusion.
“Soul mates? You mean she had some sort of dating service?”
“No. She could match soul mates. Just as I said.”
She strolled to the large windows, still shaking her head in
obvious disbelief. “Mr. Emerson, you can’t possibly tell me you believe not
only in soul mates, but that my aunt could match men and women to theirs?”
Hell, it wasn’t a very manly thing to admit, but I wasn’t
ashamed for it was the truth. “Yes, I do.”
She stared at me as if I’d just told her Father Christmas
was real and we had tea and biscuits together every day at three. “Are you
joking, or are you just being overly romantic because you’re on your period?”
I gritted my teeth, attempting to keep my patience in check.
She was the most frustrating person I’d ever met. A man could take only so
much. Slowly, I walked toward her. She must have sensed my anger for she took a
step back, although I wasn’t sure if she even realized it. Watching me warily,
she rested against the large windows. I leaned forward, setting my palms on
either side of her head, trapping her between my arms.
“Those people there below.” I nodded toward Main Street,
where a variety of men and women strolled the lane, most looking lost and
frantic. “Every one of them has a soul mate, Ms. Watts. They are either too
blinded by their own problems to see their match, or they haven’t met him or
her yet.”
“And my aunt was good at matching people?”
Her breath was warm and distracting across my neck. “Not
good, perfect. She was never wrong. It was a
Finally she settled the bottle on my palm. Still she didn’t
step back; she wouldn’t give an inch, and her warm vanilla scent was completely
distracting. Of course she wouldn’t retreat, but neither would I. How the
bloody hell was I going to work with her?
Perhaps once I had time to adjust to the fact that she was
about my age, and attractive, my emotions would subside and I’d be able to keep
a professional distance while protecting her. I dropped two aspirin into her
palm. She watched me warily as she swallowed the medicine.
“What is important
is what happened in that café.”
“The fact that I fainted?” She rolled her eyes. “Wonderful,
yeah, let’s dwell on that. As if it’s not completely embarrassing.”
She started past me. I reached out, grasping her upper arm.
She froze, seemingly startled by my touch. Did she feel the connection? The
heat? I sure as hell did and I wasn’t completely sure it was normal. “It might
happen again.”
She tilted her head and our gazes clashed. For a moment,
neither of us said a word. The unmistakable sensation of electricity pulsed
between us. I wanted to blame it on the connection between Matchmaker and
Protector, but I’d never felt this way with Clarice.
“And how would you know that?” she asked, her voice husky.
I released my hold, but my palm still burned with the
feeling of her. “You need to sit.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’d rather not.”
I resisted the urge to curse. The woman was completely
impossible. “Your aunt was special, Ms. Watts.”
Her brows snapped together. “Special? When Grandmother
caught the gardener eating the roses, she called him special too.”
“No, not that. She was…she had…she could—” Bloody hell, how
did one explain? I paced away from her, attempting to grasp hold of a rational
thought, any thought. I’d practiced this conversation so many times in my head,
but never had I been this flustered. “Your aunt was revered by certain people,
for she had the uncanny ability to match soul mates.”
There. It was said. I turned to read her expression. Her
reaction was completely anticlimactic. She actually looked bored by it all. Had
she not heard me?
Slowly, she shook her head. “Soul mates?”
I nodded.
She laughed.
I frowned. “I’m serious.”
She paused, amusement turning into disbelief and confusion.
“Soul mates? You mean she had some sort of dating service?”
“No. She could match soul mates. Just as I said.”
She strolled to the large windows, still shaking her head in
obvious disbelief. “Mr. Emerson, you can’t possibly tell me you believe not
only in soul mates, but that my aunt could match men and women to theirs?”
Hell, it wasn’t a very manly thing to admit, but I wasn’t
ashamed for it was the truth. “Yes, I do.”
She stared at me as if I’d just told her Father Christmas
was real and we had tea and biscuits together every day at three. “Are you
joking, or are you just being overly romantic because you’re on your period?”
I gritted my teeth, attempting to keep my patience in check.
She was the most frustrating person I’d ever met. A man could take only so
much. Slowly, I walked toward her. She must have sensed my anger for she took a
step back, although I wasn’t sure if she even realized it. Watching me warily,
she rested against the large windows. I leaned forward, setting my palms on
either side of her head, trapping her between my arms.
“Those people there below.” I nodded toward Main Street,
where a variety of men and women strolled the lane, most looking lost and
frantic. “Every one of them has a soul mate, Ms. Watts. They are either too
blinded by their own problems to see their match, or they haven’t met him or
her yet.”
“And my aunt was good at matching people?”
Her breath was warm and distracting across my neck. “Not
good, perfect. She was never wrong. It was a
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