Make Me A Match (The Matchmaker) Page 11

  “Here.” One girl shoved a can of pop in my hands and I was forced to look away from the two sisters. I gave the girl a tentative smile. My fingers curled around the chilled aluminum can. They were staring at me coyly, no doubt, wondering who the heck I was.

  “Nothing’s going on,” Emma hissed.

  “Don’t nothing me. I’m your sister, I know you.”

  I stood in the middle of the living room, listening, even though I was too far away for a normal person to hear. But I was anything but normal, thank God.

  “Love your accent,” the curvy woman cooed.

  I knew an invitation when I heard one. I gave her a stiff smile, but was more interested in the conversation in the kitchen than flirting. I’d never been good at flirting. If I wanted to ask someone out, I’d ask, not play coy.

  “You like him,” Lizzie whispered.

  Emma choked and glanced back at me, as if worried I’d overhear. She should be worried. Fortunately, she didn’t quite understand the extent of my powers. “No, I don’t!”

  I gritted my teeth. This was ridiculous. So, why wasn’t I moving? Why did I continue to stand there and eavesdrop? I tipped my pop back and drank, although I barely tasted the liquid.

  “So, where are you from?” the tall girl asked.

  “You do!” Lizzie said so loudly, the girls around me glanced her way. Realizing her mistake, she stepped closer to Emma, lowering her voice. “Your face is turning red. Your face always turns red when you’re embarrassed, and why would you be embarrassed, huh, Emma?”

  “Uh, London,” I replied, trying to keep the conversation going while listening to Emma and Lizzie at the same time.

  “Oh, shut up,” Emma muttered, taking lettuce out of the refrigerator. “Okay, yes, he’s attractive.”

  Was I? Truth be told, I’d never thought much about my looks. But I supposed I’d never had problems getting dates. Although dates were few and far between with my schedule. There’d only been one real girlfriend and that hadn’t ended well, but at least we were still friends.

  Lizzie hopped up, sitting on the counter and swinging her legs gleefully back and forth. “You always did like the cute nerd types.”

  I stiffened. Nerd? That’s what they thought of me?

  Emma scoffed. “He’s way more than a nerd. Believe me. The man’s built.”

  That appeased my ego…kind of.

  “London is so cool,” the curvy girl cooed.

  I took another sip, smiling at the chatty girls around me and feeling slightly better. Not like I was arrogant, but I knew I was in shape. We trained every day. But realizing that Emma thought I was “built” made me feel oddly proud…and worried. Worried because I shouldn’t have given a damn what she thought.

  “How would you know he’s built?” Lizzie asked.

  “How long will you be in town?” the tall girl asked.

  “Oh, shut up,” Emma muttered.

  I forced myself to smile. “Leaving tonight, actually.”

  “I’m being serious. I want to know you’ll be protected with this guy.”

  Valid question, one even I wasn’t sure I could answer.

  “I’ll be fine, Lizzie. You know I’ve always taken care of myself. But there is something I need from you.”

  “That’s too bad,” the curvy girl pouted. “Stay longer and I can show you around town.”

  I resisted the urge to snort. I’m sure she’d show me something, all right.

  “What?” Lizzie asked her sister warily.

  “I need you to stay with Grandmother just for the summer.”

  She jumped from the counter, irate. “Are you kidding?”

  “Oh, come on, you guys have always gotten along better than she and I. She’ll take you shopping, show you off. What’s the big deal?”

  She glared at her older sister. It was the closest I’d seen Lizzie to pouting.

  “Please.” Emma rested her hand on her sister’s arm. “I need to know you’re safe.”

  So, Emma could be caring and soft too. Just a girl worried about her family. An odd warmth spread across my chest. I wanted to tell her not to worry, that everything would be all right. But I couldn’t. I looked away, disconcerted.

  “What about you? How will you stay safe?” Lizzie asked.

  “I have Owen,” she said.

  But could I protect her? I frowned with unease. Especially when I wasn’t sure who the enemy was?

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about,” Lizzie muttered.

  Me too.

  “Who brought the movie?” the taller girl asked, interrupting my thoughts.

  I couldn’t quite meet Emma’s gaze as she swept into the living room, bringing her vanilla scent with her. Not now, not knowing what she thought of me. Not now that I cared. Hell, I really shouldn’t have listened to their conversation.

  “I’ll be fine, Sis, at the cottage in France. Come on…be happy for me.”

  As the girls gathered around the telly, I moved toward the only open window and climbed out onto the fire escape. The evening air was cool and tempting, easing my flushed skin. I set my pop on the ledge and climbed the ladder to the rooftop. The night stars twinkled above, a massive universe full of so much more than we could have ever imagined. In the distance, I could hear the soft crash of waves against the lakeshore, so much like an ocean it was tempting to believe one was at the sea.

  “Hey,” a familiar voice called out, but not Emma.

  I tamped down my inexplicable disappointment and turned to see Lizzie picking her way across the rooftop in ridiculously high heels. She’d fall and kill herself, and of course Emma would blame me.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, coming to stand beside me.

  I forced myself to smile. “Yes. Fine, thanks.”

  She smiled back at me, a dazzling smile, and for one ridiculous moment I wondered why Emma couldn’t smile at me that way. What I should have been wondering was why the hell I couldn’t have had the luck to deal with Lizzie instead. I walked her toward the middle of the roof where two beach chairs sat. Yes, it would be much easier to deal with Lizzie, and not because she had a ready smile and pleasant attitude, but because I wasn’t attracted to her like I was Emma.

  “Not interested in watching the movie? It’s a romantic comedy, I know you guys love those.”

  I gave her a hesitant smile. It was obvious she was jesting with me, yet I didn’t understand her joke. I never watched movies. Never watched the telly, either. I’d been too busy training. Besides, we didn’t have television sets at the Consulate.

  “So, how long will you be here?”

  I rubbed the back of my neck, hating small talk. She wanted to know something and I wished she’d just get it over with already and ask. “Not long.”

  “And you’re taking Emma to France for her protection?”

  I nodded slowly, unsure what exactly Emma had told her. She was quiet for a long moment and I had a feeling it was uncommon for her. Trying, no doubt, to decide what to divulge.

  “She wants me to go stay with our grandmother until she gets back.”

  I didn’t bother to mention Emma wouldn’t be returning. It would only cause more problems. “Yes, it would be best if you did.”

  “Our mother was very romantic, you know. She named us after Jane Austen characters.”

  I remained silent, unsure what she wanted me to say. I had a feeling there was more to this conversation than it seemed. And I had a feeling there was more to Lizzie than what she seemed. That scatterbrained personality might have just been a facade after all.

  “It killed her when our father left. She started going from guy to guy, looking for affection, I guess.” She didn’t finish, but she didn’t need to. I already knew. What I didn’t know was why she was admitting so much to a stranger. I felt almost as if I were betraying Emma merely by listening. There was no doubt she would be furious with her sister for telling me their dark family secrets.

  “Emma is a lot like our mom.”

>   I slid her a glance. Were we talking about the same person?

  She laughed, apparently reading the shock upon my face. “Not that she goes from man to man. But she’s a complete romantic, deep down. She does believe in true love and all that, she just won’t admit it. When she loves, she loves completely. With her very being. And if she lost that love, she’d be crushed.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” I finally asked, feeling extremely uncomfortable.

  “Because I see the way she looks at you. She’s attracted to you, it’s obvious. And now she tells me you’re taking her to some cottage in France. Well, I can’t help but worry. She’s the only sibling I have.”

  I wanted to laugh. She wasn’t worried about demons; she was worried about me breaking Emma’s heart. “There is nothing between us, Ms. Watts. There never will be. Never. I can promise you that.”

  A relationship went against the rules, and I never went against the rules, no matter how much I wanted to. Hell, and I wanted to, really, really wanted to.

  Lizzie stood. “Good. Just make sure Emma knows too.”

  I felt Emma’s presence before I heard the creak of the ladder she climbed.

  Lizzie turned toward her sister. “Hey, is the movie starting?”

  “Yeah.” Emma stepped onto the roof, glancing warily between the two of us, obviously wondering what we’d been speaking about. “I’ll be down in a minute, Liz.”

  Lizzie didn’t hesitate, merely threw us a smile and disappeared, her heels tapping against the metal ladder, then silence as she returned to the flat. For one moment we merely stood there staring at each other, the whisper of the wind and occasional rumble of cars below the only sound in the night.

  Finally she moved, stepping closer toward me. “Never, huh?”

  I cringed. Damn it all, she’d heard. But from the landing below, she shouldn’t have been able to hear a word. Unless…her powers were growing much more quickly than I’d expected. Usually it took months, even years, for a Matchmaker’s senses to heighten.

  Her lips lifted into a wry grin as she paused a few feet from me. “No need to worry, Owen, I won’t be throwing myself at you again. In fact, I just kissed you as a thank-you.”

  She was merely reacting to the blow to her ego, but my hackles still rose. She may as well have kicked me in the balls. “To thank me?”

  She nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. “And my sister’s wrong, I’m not like my mother at all. So, you don’t have to worry. End of story.” She started to turn away, but not before I saw the look of hurt in her eyes. Just as I thought…Emma lashed out when injured. She was bloody human, after all. I should have let her go, but my conscience wouldn’t let me.

  “Emma, wait.” I latched on to her wrist. I only meant to reassure her, but as she fell into me, Hell, I no longer cared about rules. I cupped the back of her head. Before she could protest, I pressed my lips to hers. It wasn’t the demanding kiss that we’d shared inside. No, this was slow, seductive.

  So seductive that Emma slid her arms around my neck, her lush body sinking willingly into mine. Hell, so much for not getting close. She tasted sweet…like pop and strawberries. This was getting too deep, too fast. Dredging up all the strength I could, I tore my mouth from hers. For a long moment, we merely stood there within each other’s arms.

  I knew I had to explain something. “It’s not that I’m not attracted to you, Emma. It’s that…”

  Her breath was warm upon my neck, so distracting. “What?”

  “The problem is that I am…too much.”

  She raised her gaze to mine. The shock there was almost amusing. How could she not know?

  “We work together,” I said. “It would get messy. We just can’t.”

  “Messy.” She pressed her palms against my chest and pushed away, stepping back. “Right. I know. Which is why I’m not going to France with you.”

  I wanted to laugh at her comment, until I realized she was completely serious. She turned and started toward the ladder. Stunned, I just watched her go. She was going to deny her powers? Deny what she was born to do? I gritted my teeth, glaring at her back. She might be able to ignore her job, but I couldn’t ignore mine. I wouldn’t.

  Emma was bloody well going to France, even if I had to carry her onto the plane. But I wasn’t worried; I knew the perfect way to get her to agree. “Well then,” I called out. “I’ll just move in here.”

  Chapter 9

  Emma

  How the heck I’d ended up at the O’Hare airport, I wasn’t sure. Having already gone through security, I stood silently by, watching Owen hand over his briefcase and stroll confidently through the metal detectors as if they wouldn’t dare go off. Sure enough, he made it through, while I’d set the thing off twice before finally being deemed safe enough to fly.

  But then, why would they worry over him? He didn’t exactly fit their profile. Handsome, dressed in the best of suits. While I apparently looked shifty in my jeans and military-style jacket, and deserved a thorough pat-down.

  The glasses and suit didn’t deter females, either. More than one woman looked his way, even women in their thirties and forties were watching him with obvious interest, much to my annoyance. Although why it bothered me, I wasn’t sure. He was my Protector, nothing else, as he’d made adamantly clear.

  You like him, Lizzie’s suggestion taunted in my mind.

  I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall. Damn Lizzie for always being so perceptive. I could admit, at least to myself, that there was something about the frustratingly straitlaced man that intrigued me. Something about his presence that calmed me. Something about the way we kissed that made me want more.

  I turned my head away from the security gates as a heated flush washed over me. Lord, I could hardly think about that kiss without blushing. I hadn’t been kissed like that since…ever. It was like I was in the middle of one of Lizzie’s freaking romance novels. I scoffed, folding my arms against my chest. More like a Nicholas Sparks book in which someone would end up dead at the end. That would be my luck.

  “We have an hour,” Owen stated as he paused beside me, although I’d felt his presence even before I turned to face him. “And then we’ll be on our way.”

  “Great,” I muttered. “Wonderful.”

  A supposed lifetime at Owen’s side. Just perfect.

  Owen frowned, sensing my surly attitude, but then I was doing little to hide it.

  “Give me a break, okay?” I whispered, stepping closer to him so we wouldn’t be overheard. “You can’t expect me to be excited about giving up my life.”

  But I knew he thought I should be thrilled. He believed my life was pointless, and therefore it wasn’t any big deal to leave it all behind. “What you’re doing is for the greater good.”

  “Yeah, well, what about my greater good?” So, that came out sounding completely selfish, but weren’t all those self-help books Mom read always saying how you had to think about yourself before you could help others?

  “I hardly see how giving up a life of hiding in shrubbery and destroying marriages is not for your greater good.”

  Heated anger flushed through my body. “Stop vilifying my job! What I did was help women move on. I gave them the reason they needed to leave a soul-sucking marriage and start a new life.”

  He quirked a brow. “Ah, is that why you’re so cheerful all the time? Why, you’re a bloody martyr.”

  “Screw you.”

  I turned and trudged toward the chairs that overlooked the landing strip, making sure I didn’t touch anyone. He’d been an ass ever since our second kiss, and I knew he was kicking himself about our lapse in judgment. But that didn’t mean he needed to take it out on me. Dropping my carry-on to the floor, I slumped into an empty seat.

  In the middle of the night the airport certainly wasn’t bustling, but there were still enough travelers that my mind buzzed with romantic feelings from those around me. The aspirin I’d taken earlier helped, turning the passion i
nto a low murmur instead of a pulsing pain, but the medication was wearing off already. And Owen sure as heck wasn’t helping.

  How could he be such a jerk?

  We’d kissed. So what? But even as I thought the words, I knew them to be false. Those kisses had been so much more than anything I’d experienced before. I took in a deep, trembling breath. Yet, here he was acting as if nothing had happened. Heck, maybe that kiss had been nothing to him.

  “Would you like to discuss anything?” he asked, settling in the chair beside me.

  I rolled my eyes. He was so clinical about it. As if we could have a scientific conversation about our lapse in good judgment. Soon, he’d be breaking out charts and graphs that showed me exactly why the kiss had been a bad idea.

  “Nothing at all.” I smiled up at him, refusing to acknowledge it.

  He watched me warily, obviously not trusting my response in the least. I was a female, so of course I wanted to discuss every intimate detail of our brief kissing episodes. No way was I giving him the satisfaction. After a few minutes in which I remained stubbornly silent, he stood.

  “I need to make a call. Stay put.”

  I gritted my teeth, the response automatic when someone demanded anything of me. Too many days with my grandmother. As Owen strolled toward the windows, pulling out his cell phone, I tried to relax.

  So, I was giving up my life and career to chase after fate. It would only be for a while…a year, two, tops. Right? I had no doubt I would be back. This would all blow over. They’d realize I wasn’t for them and send me back. Or, if everyone were as straitlaced as Owen, I’d go insane and murder them all.

  The problem was now that I was leaving…there was a part of me that was thrilled. To be honest, I figured I’d be stuck in our small town until Lizzie graduated. I’d started online schooling long ago and was scheduled to graduate early. But I’d always hoped, dreamed, of seeing the world, and because of him, I would.

  Owen.

  Unwillingly, my gaze went to the guy. He had one shoulder propped against the glass windows, his lips moving as he spoke on the cell phone. I couldn’t help but wonder what he was talking about, who he was talking to. He was frowning, so he was probably talking about me. Damn it all, how I wished I didn’t notice how well his dark jacket fit his broad shoulders. How he rubbed the back of his neck when he was upset. Wished I didn’t remember how he had not only taken my pain, but actually taken my wound. I sighed and tore my gaze away. He’d only taken my pain because it had been his job. End of story.