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Her voice rose to a dangerous level. "I don't want to figure it out together! I want to figure things out myself. Oh, for God's sake, look at this place." She flung out her arm and gestured to his expensive loft apartment situated in the coveted location of Tribeca. The huge open space was split into two levels with a sleek glass staircase connecting them together. Windows lined the walls and overlooked the city of Manhattan. Pricey art, bamboo floors, edgy glass tables, granite counters, and huge leather recliners completed the look of bachelor in the city.
"What's wrong with it? We have plenty of room here."
"This is your place! I haven't had anything for myself in the past three years. I'm twenty-eight years old. It's time I do things on my terms without anyone worrying if I'm going to emotionally lose it when something goes wrong."
He winced. Jane was extremely sensitive and had always struggled in such a brutal society. He watched a long line of men crush her like a gentle flower under their heels until there was nothing left but a few stray petals. He'd sworn never to let anyone hurt her again. He had to make her stay.
"Sweetheart, I know you're much stronger now. Don't ever think I'm waiting for you to implode. I just think it would be better to wait."
"I don't." Jane opened the closet door, grabbed her black wool coat, and stuffed her arms into the sleeves. "When I get settled, you can bring the rest of my stuff and visit. I think you'll like it in Verily. And I won't be lonely for long. I've decided to sign up with a matchmaking agency."
Yep. She'd definitely slugged the Mr. Hyde punch. "Are you kidding me? Do you know how many of those get closed down for fraud? There's no such thing as the perfect match, and you know it. What is going on with you?"
She stuck her chin out. "I'm tired of being afraid and meeting the wrong men. Kinnections is a well-respected company. I like the women I met there, and I trust them. So don't worry about me holing up in my apartment and getting depressed. I'm going out there and meeting people. I'm different this time."
"This place is going to take your money and give you false expectations. What if it doesn't work out and you crash? I'm not going to stand around helplessly while you're destroyed again by some ruthless people out for your money."
She let out an outraged squeal. "Are you listening to yourself? God, stop protecting me. I'm a different person than I was three years ago and you're stifling me! Mom and Dad wouldn't want me to live tucked away in your man cave while I watch life happen to other people."
"Mom and Dad never found you on a bathroom floor overdosed on pills. Mom and Dad didn't hold you in their arms, praying you wouldn't die!"
The silence shattered around them. Slade closed his eyes briefly, grief cutting out pieces of him. The words entwined with a blame and a plea that twisted his stomach. The memory of finding her suicide attempt changed him. He wanted her safe. Couldn't she understand?
His voice broke. "I'm so sorry, Jane. I didn't mean to bring that up."
Hurt carved out the lines of her face, and her lower lip trembled. "Yes. You did. I'm sorry I put you through that. But I'm not the same person anymore. I deserve happiness and I'm going to take it. Yes, I may get hurt along the way, but I can handle it now, Slade. I'm stronger." She tossed her tote over her shoulder and grabbed the handle of her suitcase. "I don't blame you for not trusting me. But I'm going to prove myself. You're not responsible for me any longer."
"For God's sake, let me help you. I'll buy you dinner and we'll talk more about this."
She threw open the door. "No. The doorman is meeting me downstairs."
"But I need a number, an address, something."
"I'll call when I get settled. Love you."
She left. This time, he didn't stop her. Part of him recognized it was important she carve her own way. The other half decided he'd rip apart anything that tried to hurt her. Or anyone.
With a low curse, he stalked to his computer and typed in the words.
Kinnections. Matchmaking. Verily.
He stared at the screen for a while and made his decision.
two
SLADE STOPPED IN front of the glass door of Kinnections and took in the festive white lights and artistic sign. Scrolled in purple and silver, it promised passersby a "happy ever after" rolled up in excitement, hope, and mystery.
Temper snapped his jaw up like a well-trained karate kick. A bunch of con artists selling dreams that didn't exist. To him, it was worse than those emails promising a cut of a million dollars for a small standard fee. Worse than identity theft. In his estimation, the true evil lay not in stealing money, or goods, or even services. No, this was theft of the heart--a blatant lie to the lonely and broken to heal them with a ghost image of the perfect man or woman.
He wouldn't allow such scum to tear his sister apart.
Slade pushed open the door and strode in.
The woman at the main desk seemed surprised to see a client, as if the cheery bell warning her of his entrance hadn't worked. His gaze dismissed her as the receptionist, but he refused to waste his time moving up the chain. He switched into his lawyer voice that brooked no refusal. "I'd like to see the manager, please."
One brow arched. Yes, she was perfect for the first appearance of a matchmaking agency. Her hair was magnificent, so blond it was almost white, hanging past her shoulders in pin-straight strands that shimmered like corn silk. Her wide blue eyes assessed him with a thoughtful air, as if deciding whether or not to call her boss. Not a deep blue like the ocean, but more of a cornflower, so light her features seemed to blur in a type of angelic radiance. He shook himself out of his trance and wondered what the hell he was doing thinking in corn terms about a woman he didn't intend to have a conversation with.
"Can I ask what this is about?"
Smooth and mellow, her voice teased his ears like a wisp of smoke before vanishing. He wanted to hear more, but the whole meeting was beginning to freak him out. He cleared his throat and looked over his gold-rimmed glasses. "None of your concern," he clipped out. "Please get me your manager."
She crossed her arms in front of her and studied him with a thoughtful air. "If this is regarding a client, we won't be able to give you any information. We adhere to confidentiality agreements."
He snorted. "Convenient way to try to avoid lawsuits, huh?"
"Having a bad day, sir?"
Was he amusing her? He drew himself to full height and leaned over her desk. His court presence was well known to be deadly, but this slip of a woman dared mock him? "Now I am. I'm sure it will get better once I speak with your boss."
"Okay. Go ahead."
He let out a short breath. "Can you please get her?"
"I'm already here."
He barely concealed his jerk but fought through giving her the satisfaction. Slade knew two things well in life: the law and the way people worked. He'd used both to live quite successfully and remain mainly unscathed.
He blanked his features to hide any emotion. "I see. Somehow I'm not surprised."
Her pale pink lips tightened. Ah, good-bye amusement. Hello irritation. Much better. "Why do I suspect you're rarely surprised?"
Her correct assessment threw him off. "Because I'm not. People are quite predictable if given certain circumstances. Take love, for instance. The promise of something Disney has made into a fortune with kids' movies is like the Holy Grail. They'll fight, steal, and pay money they don't have for the opportunity of believing in a mirage."
He waited for a feminine temper tantrum and got . . . nothing. A gleam of interest sparked in her eyes. She waited him out, taking her time studying his appearance and making her own judgment. Oh, yeah, this one was good. There wasn't a man alive who wouldn't put himself in her hands, and not a woman who wouldn't want to be like her. The perfect combination to sell love.
"You seem a bit jaded for thirty, sir."
"Thirty-three."
"Ah, I see. Well, let me try to clear something up immediately. At Kinnections, we use a wide variety of services to he
lp a person find a companion. What that means to him or her is subjective. Some want friendship, some want sex, and some want the crescendo of music playing when their eyes meet. I'm not here to judge. Our job is to try to get our clients what they want in a safe, consensual environment."
He clasped his hands in front of his chest and tapped his thumbs together. A favorite position with the jurors, giving the appearance of relaxation with full control. He eased his voice to a conspiratorial tone. "A lofty ambition. And if it doesn't work? Do your clients get a refund?"
Her chair squeaked. "No, they sign a contract up front agreeing to the terms."
"Convenient. I must give you credit, ma'am. You have a nice setup here. The businessman in me respects it. But I have one question I'm dying to know the answer to."
"What?"
