Make Me A Match (The Matchmaker) Page 5

  Tony slid the napkin toward me. Overly eager to get the address and get out of there, I reached for it a little too quickly. Our fingertips brushed. Electricity jolted through my body as if I’d put my hand on a live wire. The café went dark, silent, and for a few seconds I merely floated in oblivion.

  Just as suddenly, the darkness disappeared and color burst to life, blinding in its detail. The colors took form and I was no longer in the café, but an apartment. Not a place I knew. Slowly, numbly, I turned, searching for answers. Tony was seated on a couch, holding a bottle of wine. I started toward him, only to pull up short. He wasn’t alone.

  “More wine?” he asked some woman beside him.

  I stepped closer, narrowing my eyes. She seemed familiar in some way…

  Paula.

  A woman who lived in my building.

  “No more.” Paula smiled, settling with ease against the pillows, as if she belonged there in his apartment. “Only one thing I want. You.”

  Tony placed the wine on the side table and inched closer to Paula. “Then you’ve got it.”

  He cupped the side of her face and their lips met in a passionate kiss.

  “No!” I cried out. “No!”

  Before I could reach them, the room went dark and I floated once more. Where the heck was I?

  Hello?

  No one answered. It was a weird hallucination. Or maybe I was still at my apartment, dreaming. For a moment I thought maybe I’d died. Then I heard a voice…someone calling me.

  “Emma, Emma!” the voice said, insisting I return to reality, but I wasn’t sure. It was like I was drowning in a black ocean with no idea where the surface was located.

  “Step back. I’ve got water.”

  Tony. My body grew heavy and warm as if I were slowly sinking into mud. A heavy, dark, horrible mud.

  “Emma?” Not Tony…an English accent.

  Suddenly I was aware of the cold, hard floor beneath my back. The terrible ache of my body, the piercing pain in my skull. Murmured words whispered around me, frantic and worried conversation.

  “Should I call 911?” someone asked.

  Were they talking about me?

  “No, wait,” Owen said.

  Wait for what, I wanted to ask, but a second later cold water hit my face.

  Reality came crashing down. I jerked upright, sputtering. A variety of faces stared down at me. “What the hell?”

  “Sorry.” Tony was kneeling beside me, an empty cup in hand. “I thought it might help.”

  “I—I’m fine.” I shoved my hands onto the cold floor and stumbled to my feet. The room and people around me wavered in and out of focus. Owen stood behind the crowd, his face all serious planes once more. I’d expected to see some sort of gloating in his eyes, not worry. I tore my attention from him, confused.

  “You okay?” someone asked.

  I started to nod, but the movement made my head ache. With a groan, I pressed my fingers to my temples. What the heck had just happened?

  Tony stepped closer, slipping his arm around my waist. Instead of welcoming his warmth, his touch felt weird, off, wrong. I shrugged him away. But my legs were wobbly, and the room still spun. Faces blurred around me, all pushing closer, too close. My lungs shrank, my breath growing shallow.

  “Emma?” Owen shoved his way through the crowd.

  I shook my head, stumbling back. I didn’t want him to touch me; I didn’t want anyone to touch me. “No, I’m fine.”

  But I wasn’t fine. Far from it. My knees buckled and the floor came rushing upward. Suddenly, Owen was next to me. I felt his strong arms wrap around my waist just as my eyes rolled back and the world went dark once more.

  Chapter 4

  Owen

  She wasn’t moving.

  She should be moving.

  I shrugged the jacket from my shoulders and tossed the garment to the sofa. For a moment, I merely stared at her, as if I could will Emma to open her damn eyes. Hell, I’d take her biting sarcasm and offensive indifference.

  But she remained stubbornly still, her eyes firmly shut. With a sigh, I tapped my foot, needing to do something, anything. I’d studied, I’d read, I’d heard stories about what would happen when powers were transferred, but I’d never experienced it, and I sure as hell never expected this. Should she be this pale? This still?

  I hesitated a moment, then knelt beside her and rested the back of my hand to her cheek. Cool to the touch, smooth as marble and just as white. Even ill she was pretty, really pretty. And I couldn’t deny the woman was interesting. No, she was stunning when she had that mischievous sparkle in her eyes. I picked up a well-loved stuffed gray cat from the sofa. It was hers; I could smell her on the material. When she laughed…shite, the sound was like heated, pulsing music that swept through me in a way I’d never expected. I couldn’t control my own reaction.

  And that worried me.

  I tossed the cat back to the sofa and stood, only to pace in front of her. Back, forth, until the floorboards underfoot creaked unnaturally loud in the silent building, everyone else most likely at work. Surely, I was overreacting. She was okay. I would sense it if anything were wrong. Wouldn’t I?

  Hell if I knew. I’d never had any problems with Clarice. She’d been the ideal client. Then again, for her I’d been more of a bodyguard than teacher. Clarice had been born knowing what she was. She’d taught me more than I’d taught her.

  I paused and gazed around the small flat, attempting to get a better feel for the woman I was fated to be with. Her apartment was interesting, if not exactly neat. Photographs hung on the walls: a landscape, the close-up of a shell, her sister. All in black and white, all lovely in some ethereal way. No photos of men cheating. No indication of the stubborn woman who had taken the pictures. She was talented. Too bad once she accepted her new position in life, she wouldn’t have time for the arts.

  I rubbed the back of my neck and paced once more. Where was Jotham when I needed him? I hadn’t expected this…this woman who cursed like a sailor, who hid in vegetation, who thrived on breaking up marriages. I released a wry laugh and scrubbed my hands over my face. No. Nothing had prepared me for Emma Watts. Yet here I was, and here I would be, by her side for the rest of her life, whether she wanted me or not.

  A soft moan escaped her lips. Relief made my knees weak, yet indecision held me captive. Should I go to her? Most likely she’d find my intrusion annoying. Perhaps instead I should get her some water. No, tea. Yes, tea; tea was always good.

  In three quick strides I reached the small kitchen. As I searched the cupboards, I was all too aware that everything had come down to this moment. There was no going back now. She was mine. I pushed aside dirty dishes that threatened to tumble over, until I found a stainless steel kettle.

  “Oh God,” she muttered, her voice raspy. “What happened?”

  “You fainted.” I turned just in time to see her bolt upright, that long blonde hair falling in silky waves around her pale face.

  The shock in her blue eyes gave way to fury. “How the heck did you get into my apartment?”

  That was appreciation for you. “I carried you here.” She just stared at me as if she hadn’t a clue what I was talking about. I had a feeling the hysterics were about to arrive. “After you fainted. A nice thank-you would do.”

  She jumped to her feet, stumbling back and putting the coffee table between us, as if that could protect her. Hell, she needed training, and fast. “Oh God.” She shook her head in denial. “I fainted. I’ve never fainted.”

  I found it amusing that she was more horrified by the fact that she fainted, than the fact that a strange man was in her apartment. It was certainly telling. Emma Watts hated weakness. “It’s perfectly natural, given the circumstances.” I found two cups that seemed somewhat clean. Matchmakers were supposed to be old and annoyingly serene. Not…not her. Not young, not hot, not exciting and stubborn.

  She laughed, a manic laugh that worried me. I’d heard that sort of laugh…right before
someone was committed. “Perfectly natural?”

  The teakettle gave off a shrill whistle.

  “It’s not perfectly natural for me to faint and it’s not perfectly natural for you to just…just…” She waved her hands around like a crazed hen, flapping her wings. “Not natural for you to be here!”

  Taking the moment to gather myself, I poured water into two cups. I was in charge here, at least I was supposed to be, yet I felt like a damn novice. I steeled myself and faced her. “Have some tea?”

  “I don’t want tea!” She stomped her foot. It was pretty damn funny, actually. Any other time I might have laughed. I knew better than to react now.

  “Would you prefer coffee?”

  “No! I’d prefer answers.”

  We had so many things we needed to discuss, yet all I could think about was that there was something entirely too amusing about getting her riled up. What the hell was wrong with me?

  I set her cup on the small bit of counter that wasn’t cluttered with dishes. “I was perfectly willing to give you answers yesterday, when you rudely ran away.”

  “I was being chased by an angry man. What did you expect?”

  Not her. I certainly hadn’t expected a woman like Emma. And I sure as hell didn’t expect to be attracted to her. I glanced toward the heavens, cursing the gods. Was this some sort of test in which I had to prove my worth?

  If it was, I was failing fast. I couldn’t look her in the eyes without losing my train of thought. Couldn’t sleep last night without dreaming about her. This wasn’t good, wasn’t good at all.

  “Owen, I want answers now.”

  So did I. I sighed and turned to face her. “It’s true your aunt left you her possessions.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, looking leery and confused. She didn’t trust me and that sure as hell wasn’t a great way to start our relationship. “Yeah, the cottage, you told me.”

  I nodded. “Her worldly possessions are yours. Which, besides the cottage, isn’t much.”

  “Okay, wonderful.” She moved into the kitchen, brushing by me. We didn’t touch, but I felt her energy all the same. “Where’s the aspirin?”

  “Does your head hurt?”

  “Yes, it hurts.” She rummaged through a kitchen drawer. “Been hurting for two days now. I don’t get headaches often. It’s…odd.”

  They’d said a new Matchmaker’s body would need time to adjust to her abilities, but hadn’t gone into detail about what her symptoms would be. Clarice’s death had been a shock and I hadn’t fully had time to prepare for my new charge. It was a disservice to Emma, and I felt guilty as hell.

  She found the bottle and turned toward me. “So, are there papers I need to sign, or what?”

  I shifted, uneasy. Time for the truth, the complete and utter truth. “Um, no. The cottage isn’t important.”

  She focused on the bottle, tugging at the lid. “Damn thing.” She glanced up briefly. “What is important then?”

  I sighed and strolled toward her, stopping so close I could feel her body’s heat. Yet she wasn’t intimidated by my size or presence. The girl wasn’t intimidated by anything and I couldn’t help but admire her strength. It also worried me. A good dose of fear was healthy.

  “Here.” I held out my hand.

  She paused, her stubbornness in full force. Yes, she hated handing over her power, even if it was for something as simple as opening a bottle. Her reluctance 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 gift, Ms. Watts. A gift you now possess.”

  She narrowed her eyes, angry with me. Angry because deep down, she knew perhaps I might be right, and like most humans, she didn’t want to believe in magic. “Oh really? And what if I don’t believe in soul mates?”

  “Surely you believe in love?”

  She shoved her hands against my chest, pushing me back just enough to slip under my arm. “Yes, I believe in love. Love between family members. But love between significant others is a love that comes quickly and always fades. Always.”

  Trembling, her emotions and her past were gettin
g the better of her. Did she even realize how lost she looked? “You don’t have to believe. It doesn’t matter to your powers.”

  She laughed. “Powers? What, I’m a superhero now? Just give me my cape and mask, and I’ll be ready to go. Or do I get a bow and arrow like Cupid?”

  Denial, anger, mockery. I expected them all when dealing with newbies. “If that’s the way you wish to think of it. When your aunt died, her powers went to the next relative. That would be you.”

  She was smiling, her eyes even crinkled at the corners in mirth, but that gaze showed her true feelings. She was nervous. “Okay. So then why don’t I feel any different?”

  I slipped my hands into my pockets and forced myself to stroll slowly toward her when in reality I wanted to shake some sense into her gorgeous head. “But you do, don’t you?”

  The anger flashed once more, and I knew it was because I was getting too close to the truth. Score one for me. “No, no. Of course not.”

  “That fuzzy feeling, that headache.”

  She shook her head. “I need more sleep.”

  “Fainting at the café?”

  She shrugged. “Too much caffeine.”

  Hell, she was stubborn. But I wouldn’t give up; I had no choice but to continue my assault. It was for her own damn good. So I merely stared at her, my hard gaze unrelenting.

  “Ms. Watts, may I ask you something?”

  “Why not? Go ahead.”

  “What did you see when you fainted?”

  She frowned, averting her gaze once more. “Nothing.”

  My fingers curled. Damn her, couldn’t she tell me the truth even once? How would we work together if she couldn’t trust me? “Nothing? You said you’d be honest.”

  Her gaze flashed as she glared up at me. “Fine, I saw Tony, that man I was sitting with.”

  “And what was he doing?”

  She flushed a brilliant red. I would have found it endearing had I not known why she was upset. She was attracted to the café manager and that annoyed me much, much more than it should.