Searching for Someday by Jennifer Probst
"If you don't reach and believe in the glass, you'll die anyway."
His eyes darkened to a deep forest green. Kate froze, helpless to fight the crazy electric jolts between them, like a magnet forcing an object to cling. His husky whisper wrapped her in intimacy. "At least you die knowing the truth. On your terms."
She dug deep and rallied. "On your terms, yes. But with a cowardly pride and alone. Don't you want more than that?"
He leaned in. Kate licked her lips in typical romance novel cliche fashion as if waiting for the kiss. God, how humiliating. She fought for sanity, but her head swarmed with a cottony daze that kept her feet pinned to the ground, helpless under his spell. He was a client. A client. A client. This was bad . . . bad . . . bad . . .
"Why are you so innocent?"
"Why are you so hopeless?" she asked.
"Because my job taught me the truth."
"So did mine."
They stared at each other, not moving, barely breathing. Slade muttered something under his breath. She opened her mouth to stop the insanity, step away, and go back to business.
Too late.
He closed the last few inches between them, snagging her around the waist and lifting her up to meet his lips.
Snap.
Crackle.
Pop.
Like Rice Krispies gone berserk, a live jolt of electricity hit her hard, wringing a gasp from her lips. Her insides shuddered, and raw, burning heat poured through her body, lighting her up like the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree.
His fingers tightened around her waist, and his tongue dove deep between her lips, devouring her in a hungry kiss that drove every other thought from her mind except the need for more. Kate moaned under the sensual assault and reached up, stabbing her fingers into his surfer hair and twisting. The kiss devoured her whole. He tasted of coffee and mint and hot masculine need, and like a drunk, she took it all and demanded more. It went on and on, drowning her in pleasure and ratcheting up the lust and drive to get him naked, climb on top of him, and take him between her thighs, turning her into a wild animal she didn't recognize.
The door opened and a strange voice cut through the air. "Oh! Sorry, dudes, didn't know you were making out."
Kate yanked back, her whole body shaking. The charged air shimmered with electricity.
"Holy shit." Slade looked down at their broken connection. He blinked and shook his head. "What the hell was that?"
Oh. My. God.
The touch. The curse.
Him.
Kate had no time to decipher the crazy flood of emotions that pumped through her. She almost fell backward in a rushed attempt of retreat, stumbled, and madly dashed to the side when he tried to steady her. "N-n-n-no, don't touch me. T-t-t-that was a mistake."
Her words caught, tumbled, caught again. Kate scrambled for her center as her stutter grabbed hold and threatened to dominate.
"Kate, wait."
He put out his hands, palms up. A frown creased his brow, and he didn't make a move toward her, but panic reared. If he touched her one more time, she'd crumble beneath the crazy need to have him without consequence.
"I h-h-h-have to go. Let's just forget this happened."
"Kate!"
She took off and didn't look back. Scooping up her shoes, she headed through the gym barefoot, shoved her feet into her moccasins at the door, and raced to her Ford Fusion like the last survivor in a horror movie running from a serial killer.
As she pulled out of the lot, Kate realized her lifelong dream of meeting the man meant for her had just occurred. For more than four generations, the touch had bound male to female over and over without fail, confirming a true match of a love slated to last with the right man.
Until now.
Because he was the wrong man.
six
SLADE SAT ON the sleek pewter-colored couch in Kennedy's office and tried not to scowl.
He was in a bad mood.
After the hot yoga session, he figured he was done with Kinnections' torment. Seems that he also signed to a mandatory makeover meeting, which besides getting his man card pulled, he didn't need. As a lawyer, appearance was key, and he made sure the jurors and his clients always saw a crisp, clean image. He tried to remain patient and stared moodily at Kate, who flanked Kennedy's side and looked as miserable as he felt.
The kiss haunted him.
Caught up in their banter at the gym, Slade decided to test the waters. Just once. He ached to kiss her, glean if her lips really tasted like the cotton candy he adored, and put to rest some of the crackling sexual tension.
Instead, he'd been electrocuted and shredded to pieces by a clawing hunger to have her. Mate, claim, possess. It was as if his inner caveman sprang to life and he'd sunk to an animal instinct. Her taste was like pure sugar, and once he got a sample he was afraid he'd be addicted. He expected teasing, warm, and satisfying. He got hot sex and pure need.
They hadn't spoken since she ran away. He figured they both needed to process in order to decide the next step. Not that there would be a next step. She refused to date clients. He intended to prove her fraudulent. She said love was real, he said it was an illusion. Just because the sex would rock didn't mean any type of relationship would. He agreed it would be smarter to leave her alone, let the tension settle a bit, and move on.
But he didn't want to.
She wore her usual black, a sexy lace T-shirt, silk trousers, and those delicious spiked black boots. Her hair was pinned back today in a sophisticated twist thing that only made him long to rip out the pin and thrust his fingers in gold silk. Her no-nonsense manner and cool gaze told him her position without a word.
Get over it.
He wished he could.
When he heard about the mandatory makeover, Slade insisted Kate be there. She tried to escape by citing Kennedy as the expert, but he insisted she be present to oversee the whole thing. He needed another shot at trying to figure her out and this crazy connection thing.
"First off, don't think this is all about tweaking your appearance to make you hotter. You're pretty much already there, as you well know."
He fought off a blush as they both stared at him. "Uh, thanks. I think. So what are we doing?"
"Appearance is the first impression we give on a date. You have a public job so you need to keep a certain persona in the courtroom. But I wanted to ask you a few questions. What do you wear on a first date?"
Kennedy pursed her lips. The man in him recognized she exuded lust in her lush, sensual manner, from her full red mouth to her ripe curves. Funny, he just didn't ache to touch or taste her like the woman who stood beside her. Slade refocused and tried not to sigh at the ridiculous question. He was wasting valuable time here. "Standard stuff. Usually pants and a casual jacket and tie."
"Always a tie?"
He tamped down on his impatience. "Of course."
"Shoes?"
He tried not to roll his eyes. "Dress shoes."
"Hmm." She made a note on her pad. "How do you dress on the weekends?"
"Khakis. T-shirt. Loafers."
"Got it. Do you need the glasses to see?"
He touched the gold-rim frames. "These? Mostly reading, but I tend to wear them all the time now."
"Interesting." She scribbled something else. He tried not to crane his neck to peek. "Do you prefer certain colors?"
Slade glanced at his Cartier watch and blew out a breath. "Black, gray, and blue. Classical."
Kennedy smiled. "Thank you." She stood and walked to the far side of the room, sliding open pocket doors to reveal an enormous storage closet. As she hummed under her breath, he heard her sifting through hangers, pulling a variety of items and slinging them over her arm. He tried to catch Kate's gaze, but she pretended to study her friend's notes, refusing to look up. Frustration twisted his gut.
"Here we go. Try all these on." She dumped a pile of clothes, shoes, and belts in his lap.
Slade stared. "What's all this?"
He flung up his hand like she was a demon. "I like wearing my glasses."
"I know. You use them as a barrier to keep yourself removed and distant. Like looking out to the world through a pane of glass. If you don't need them to see, they're not needed. Hand them over."
He studied her determined expression with growing horror. They were all nuts. Maybe not legally fraudulent, but the inane things a client had to go through to get a date were unbelievable. Slade ripped them off and pushed them into her palm. "Fine."
She pointed to the right. "Changing area is over there. We'll wait."
His lips twisted in a sneer. Slade grabbed the clothes, walked out the door, and changed. With every minute that passed, his temper grew. He was a Harvard graduate, a well-respected attorney, and never had a problem getting a date. How dare they judge him? He was always open and charming on a date. He elicited information from his companion, used humor, and always listened attentively. Slade belted the jeans, shoved his feet into the shoes, and yanked on the shirt. Refusing to glance in the mirror, he marched out like a penguin on parade and simmered with temper.
"Here. Satisfied?"
Kennedy grinned like the badass she was. But it was the look in Kate's eyes that froze him to the spot.
Hunger.
He dragged in a lungful of air and drank in her expression. Eyes wide, she ate him up with her gaze, a feminine appreciation gleaming deep within ocean depths. Kennedy strolled over, adjusted his shirt collar, smoothed out some wrinkles, and turned him toward the mirror.
"Want me to tell you what I see now? I see a man who works hard but knows how to take it down a notch. A man open to the unknown, ready to be a bit vulnerable and give a bit of himself to his date. You see, Slade, I think your clothes were used as a type of armor. A suit and tie scream business dinner. Formality. But this shows your true personality and allows your date to feel as if you are as engaged as she is."
Slade almost snickered at her speech over a silly outfit. Until he saw himself in the mirror.
He looked . . . different. The dark jeans clung to his thighs and gave him a rougher edge than his usual polished look. The shirt was black and holy mother of God--pink. Pink cuffs and a stitched collar open at the neck molded to his chest. The shirt was left loose and not tucked in. The shoes were low leather boots that he never would have tried, thinking them too European, but they gave him an understated polish yet brought it up a notch. Without his glasses, his face seemed more vulnerable, and he blinked at his image, trying to take it all in.
He never wore jeans, but they were both comfortable and gave him a freedom he didn't realize he was lacking. In some half-assed way, Kennedy was right. He did keep himself distant in a lot of ways. His thoughts flashed to Jane and the steps she may be going through.
"Did my sister go through the same process?"
Kennedy's face softened. "I meet with Jane this week. We've had plenty of sessions together, and I know her vulnerabilities. I promise you, Slade, your sister is in very good hands. I would never hurt her."
His throat tightened and he managed a nod. Somehow, someway, he actually believed her.
"What do you think, Kate?"
Slade slid his gaze to meet hers in the mirror after Kennedy's question. A low hum buzzed between them. Seconds ticked by. The tension cranked another excruciating notch, until he locked down his muscles in an effort not to grow to full staff under her heated stare.
"I think he's ready."
Her husky drawl broke the spell. Kennedy nodded in agreement. "Wear this to the mixer. I'm going to take a shopping trip with you later on in the week and make sure you have a few outfits. Of course, it's on Kinnections, part of the package experience."
"I have to go, I have a meeting. See you Friday night, Slade."
Kate hurried out of the room.
Kennedy cocked her head and studied him for a moment. "Hmm. Something tells me Friday is going to be interesting."
Slade nodded. "I'll tell you one thing. Since I signed up, I haven't been bored."
He went to change as Kennedy's laughter floated through the room.
KATE WALKED THE FLOOR of the elegant Italian restaurant, satisfied with the backdrop for Slade's first cocktail party. The back room was reserved for Kinnections and the social mixers they tended to run on Friday and Saturday nights. Cosmos boasted great food, an intimate atmosphere, and a premier wine bar. The huge brick oven wall and high counters showed the chefs at work, a fun visual for the crowds. Her boots tapped on the polished marble floors, taking in the Tuscan decorations of bold red, gold, and earthy creams. She met Kennedy halfway to the back room.
"Is he here yet?"
Kennedy shook her head. "Sorry. Hope he's not a no-show. Those suck."
Kate tried not to fume at the idea of Slade wasting all their valuable time just to refuse the main event. Her crew put everything into his counseling and makeover and picking the right women. If he didn't show up, she'd--
Well, she didn't know, but she'd come up with something really evil. The image of his kiss mocked her thoughts and screamed her a liar. She wanted to do something with him all right. Preferably naked, dirty things that shouldn't be imagined. Why, oh why, did he have to elicit the awful curse/touch? She needed to be firm tonight and not get too personal. Kate bore down and focused. She was his matchmaker and had an important job ahead of her. Find him a love match and do it quickly. "He works in Manhattan, so traffic is a mess. Let's give him fifteen more minutes."
"Got it." Kennedy leaned over the bar and winked at the chef behind the table. Her generous cleavage caused the next throw of his pizza dough to almost miss. "Hey, darlin'. Any way to get a drink around here?"
His gaze misted over. Kate watched as her friend worked her female magic to make every man before her go into idiot mode. She grabbed her arm and dragged her back. "Give him a break, Ken. Go order your drink at the bar like a normal person."
Kennedy flipped her hair in artful style and grinned. "But this is so much more fun. And that way I don't have to wait on line."
"When have you ever waited more than five seconds for a drink?"
Her lips pursed in a pout. "Never, I guess. You're no fun. I like torturing the male species. Give it a try."
Kate pulled her through the restaurant and into the private party. "Behave. You meet with Jane tomorrow, right?"
"Yes. I'm taking her to the salon for the works. I think she's ready."
"Good. And make sure to keep Slade away from her. He's nosy and wants to poke around in her love life. The last thing she needs right now."
"Hmm, I'd let him poke me anytime. Anywhere."
Kate rolled her eyes. "You never change."
"Hope not. What fun would this threesome be if all of us weren't getting any?"
She was saved from answering by the sudden appearance of the guest of honor.
The room fell into a short silence.
Holy crap. He was beyond hot. He actually wore the outfit Kennedy picked out, his jeans cupping his ass and thighs in all the right spots. The black and pink shirt gave him an air of edgy sexiness women loved, and his wavy caramel hair was a delicious shaggy mess around his head, framing those suspicious sage-green eyes. He took in the room with one sharp glance, obviously taking note of the occupants and his dates for the evening. Assessing. Commanding. Lord, he had alpha stamped all over him, and a tiny shiver bumped through her body.
The other women seemed to have the same reaction. Their gazes lit up with anticipation and roved over his figure like hungry she-wolves ready to feast.
And mate.
Kate pulled her professional demeanor around her tightly and walked up to him. "You're late," she whispered. "Why don't you come with me before I introduce you to the four women I picked."
"You're not gonna announce 'Meet my millionaire,' are you?"
She shuddered with distaste. "This is not reality TV and not Bravo. We don't lead with money here.
"Why? Do you want to know?"
Kate led him to the far corner, where the table of cocktails was already set up with various finger foods. "As long as you have a steady job you enjoy, we don't care what your profit margin is. Neither will your dates."
He snorted and eyed the table hungrily. And with more interest than he regarded the women. "Obviously, you haven't been in the real world. I'm starving--are those mini pizzas?" He ignored her clucking and dove in, filling his plate with a massive amount of food. "Can I get a beer with this? Or wine. Whatever everyone's drinking."
She crossed her arms in front of her and tried not to huff. "In case you've forgotten, this isn't the quick service dining plan. You're here to meet your potential mate."
"Right." He chewed heartily. "This portobello is amazing. Smoky and full of flavor. Perfect with the bite of gorgonzola. Funny, I've never heard of this place. Want to try one?"
"No. Let's go over the rules again, shall we?"
"No sleeping with them on the first date."
She glared. "Of course not! Now, Kennedy and I will be here to help you mingle, and if you're feeling awkward at any point, just give us a glance and we'll be by your side. We can also help guide conversation. This is your party, and we want you to feel comfortable. You'll have alone time with each of the women, and then you'll let me know at the end of the mixer who you bonded with. Then we'll set up a one-on-one date to take it further."
He bit into a mini crab cake with homemade aioli and groaned. "Best crab cake ever."
"Are you listening?"
"Yep. The more I think about it, I feel like the Bachelor. I don't have to break up with any of them at the end of the night, do I?"
"Funny. Can you please take this seriously? These women have taken their precious time to meet you."
"Sorry."
"Now, you'll meet Hannah, Emma, Sarah, and Ann. Each of them have the look you seem to require, steady jobs, and all the qualities you seem to admire. Are you ready for the introductions?"
"Can I have another piece of bruschetta?"
"No."
He wiped his mouth with the napkin. "Fine. I'm ready."
She pasted on a brilliant, confident smile. "Then let's go, shall we?" He reached out his hand in politeness, but she pretended to miss the gesture and marched in front of him. No touching tonight. That had disaster written all over it.