Make Me A Match
Chapter 1
For three freaking weeks I’d been
watching him. Three freaking weeks I’d been forced to shadow his every dull move…spying
on some pathetic man’s life in order to get that one photo opportunity that
would pay next month’s rent.
It’d never bothered me before, why now did I feel so frustrated with my
life?
I sighed and lowered the camera. Spying
was way less fun than people made it seem, especially when it revolved around
watching from the shrubbery while perverted men tried to pick up women half
their age. No cloaks and daggers for me. No running for my life through narrow
European alleys. Certainly no mysterious, hot men coming to my rescue.
“Emma! Emma! I have the telephoto lens.”
Lizzie’s voice carried easily across the parking lot, no doubt drawing the
attention of the numerous patrons who were enjoying the outside deck…including
the man we were spying on.
I glared over my shoulder. “God, Lizzie.”
I pressed my finger to my lips. “What part of incognito don’t you understand?”
My sister frowned, tottering as she
climbed over the curb and stepped into the pea gravel that surrounded the Lilacs
and Azaleas. She handed me the lens. “Sorry. You’re in a mood.”
A deck with tables took advantage
of the lake view while Bob Marley played on outdoor speakers. Our target was
currently reclining in a bamboo framed chair, bobbing his head in time to the
music but his gaze, oh yes, his gaze remained focused on that bar.
“Did anyone see me?” Lizzie asked,
smoothing down her white, pencil skirt and kneeling carefully.
I’d been hiding in front of the pub
for an hour now, waiting for our target to make his move and Lizzie had almost
blown my cover in the mere five minutes since she’d arrived. “I don’t know, but
they will if you don’t get down.”
Lizzie dropped to her knees,
grimacing when the gravel bit into her tender flesh. “He looks pretty normal
for a cheater.”
“Don’t they all,” I mumbled,
wondering what my sister had been thinking by wearing a skirt and heels to a
stakeout.
But Lizzie was a novice. Beyond a novice. She’d never make it as
a spy. She was too naïve, too innocent. Hell, she read romance novels for God’s
sake. The first thing the business taught a person was that the idea of true
love was a ridiculous myth that housewives clung to in order to give meaning to
their mundane lives. Yep, they clung to the idea until I arrived, camera in
hand, to show them just how in love their husbands were…with the maid, the neighbor,
the wife’s best friend, and the woman twenty years younger that they’d met at a
bar.
The target looked our way. “Get
down!”
Lizzie dropped to her belly with a grunt,
half falling into the Lilac bush we were hiding behind. The purple blooms
rattled in protest, sending their overwhelming perfume through the warm evening
air. She might as well have waved a white flag, proclaiming our location. I closed
my eyes and sighed. Counting to twenty helped…sometimes.
It was a family business, one I
wasn’t ready to give up on. I might have inherited my maternal grandfather’s
sleuthing ways, but not Lizzie. One thing was certain, Lizzie would never be a
PI. Not like me. Nope, I was made to crush the hopes and dreams of couples in
love. I suppose I reveled in it. And yeah, I might have even thrived in proving
to women that men were nothing but jerks. Attractive jerks, jerks I
occasionally wanted to kiss, but jerks all the same.
“Stay still,” I whispered.
Lizzie nodded, her auburn ponytail
wavering back and forth.
I looked in disgust at Lizzie’s
outfit. While I preferred darker, earthy colors, Lizzie liked to sparkle. She’d
worn a brilliant pink t-shirt that clashed with her red hair. So much for
blending in. She flittered from friend to friend, from boyfriend to boyfriend, like
a clueless butterfly.
When I was younger, I’d envied my
sister’s ease at conversation and making friends. While she’d been liked by
all, I’d always been the quiet, good girl overlooked. The girl who’d had too
much responsibility taking care of her little sister and a depressed mother to attend
basketball games and pep rallies. And now, hell, I was seventeen and had only
been on a handful of dates.
But the past was the past. There
was no use dwelling. Pushing aside my depressing thoughts, I looked through the
lens of my camera watching Kelly make her move. It didn’t take much, with a
rack like hers the buxom blonde had only to give a small smile and they’d come
running like dog’s in heat. I’d found the girl working in a strip club and Kelly
had been only too eager to leave the smoky joint.
The former stripper gave a little toss
of her head, her long blonde locks shimmering under the setting sun. I was
pretty sure Kelly loved taking down the same sort of slime balls she’d been
forced to endure for five years of her adult life.
“The man in the blue button up,” I
said into the tiny microphone pinned to the lapel of my jacket. “Looking your
way now.”
Kelly gave a discreet nod and
glanced over her shoulder toward their target. There it was… the smile. He hadn’t a chance. He surged
from his chair, his eagerness almost tangible. With an arrogance that belied
his thinning hair and middle age paunch, he sauntered toward Kelly.
He had money. That was obvious by the
clothing he wore and the Jag he drove. And people with money thought they were
gods. If I’d learned anything during my tumultuous teenage years, it had been
that rich people especially believed they could get away with all. He leaned
against the bar, his string of drool practically sliding down Kelly’s cleavage.
“You come here often?” came through
my earpiece.
I snorted and stretched out upon my
belly to get a better angle. Seriously? The man had made millions in the stock
market and that was the best line he could come up with? I almost felt sorry
for him…almost. I settled my elbows
into the gravel, thankful for the leather jacket I wore, even if it was a good
eighty degrees out.
I needed that money shot, the photo
his wife could use to take him for everything he owned and with Kelly’s good
looks, and his neediness, it wouldn’t take long. Once I got that shot, I could
go home, soak in a tub, and forget for a short while the heartache I witnessed
every day. It was, undoubtedly, the worst part of the mission, handing that
picture to the wife, proof that her husband wasn’t the man she thought she’d
married. I shook aside the thought. Besides, the check they’d write afterward
made up for my unease. At least that’s what I told myself.
A soft breeze blew in from Lake
Michigan, sending small purple blooms raining through the air. Perhaps I’d go
to the beach for a bit. When I was lying in the sand, my eyes half-closed, I
could pretend I was on the Mediterranean. Kelly giggled at something the man
said. I barely paid attention. I’d get it all on tape and go over it later. I
was good at my job. The best. Grandpa would be proud, although I doubted he’d
appreciate our newest client list…cheating men. But you had to make money
anyway you could. And we definitely needed the money.
Still, lately I’d found my mind
drifting, my attention wavering. Although the family business was as busy as
ever, life seemed…lacking. I needed a vacation. A little time to recoup. Heck,
I needed an actual life. I might not be able to afford the Mediterranean, but maybe
I could talk Lizzie into driving to Florida.
He leaned closer, resting a
possessive hand on Kelly’s thigh. I smiled and clicked. “Perfect. Now give me
just a little more.”
“Is he going to kiss her?” Lizzie
whispered, peering through the branches.
“Shhhh,” I hissed.
He leaned in, whispering nauseating
nothings into Kelly’s ear. Click. I
tried not to gag. How Kelly could allow these men to paw her, I hadn’t the
slightest.
“You know,” Lizzie whispered. “You
should totally be the decoy. A little makeup, put some gel in your hair…”
I resisted the urge to sigh. “Lizzie
please, like I want those guys pawing me. As if to prove my point the man
leaned toward Kelly, his hand cupping the side of her face. Click. Click. “Yes, there we go. Kiss
her, you sick freak.”
“You know, it worries me how
thrilled you are when you take these men down.”
I frowned. “Why shouldn’t I be?
These men lie to their wives, they should be destroyed. Arrogant asses who
think they can get away with anything.”
“Yeah, but it’s totally clouding
your aura.”
I rolled my eyes. At times I wasn’t
sure if my sister was being serious or not. I hoped she was joking. I shook my
head and refocused on Kelly. The target was leaning in close. So close. Here
came the money shot. The thrill of victory coursed bitterly sweet through my
veins as I knew deep down that my win was someone else’s loss. He leaned closer,
I held my breath.
“Excuse me,” a refined British voice
called out from behind me.
I froze. Crap. Perhaps if I ignored him, he’d go away. Frantically, I
continued to push that button, click, click,
click, attempting to get the money shot before this man ruined everything.
“The owner knows me. I have permission to be on his property.”
Which was true, sort of. I’d had
permission last year, before someone had complained.
I pushed the button again. Click. Mentally I urged the target to move
closer to Kelly. Come on, come on.
Why wasn’t he kissing her? She was totally kissable!
“Uh, no,” the guy insisted. “You’ve
misunderstood.”
Lizzie nudged me in the arm,
pushing me off balance and making me drop the camera a few inches. I sighed and
glanced over my shoulder intending to give the man a piece of my mind. But his
polished dress shoes momentarily surprised me into silence. My gaze moved from his
feet up to his pressed, slate trousers, further to his jacket and vest,
complete with pristine white shirt underneath.
Lounge and beach wear were the norm
here. Even the millionaires who visited from Chicago wore their Hawaiian
shirts, attempting their best imitation of Jimmy Buffet. What Ivy League
college had this man crawled from and why the heck was he here in Podunk,
Michigan?
“I’m busy.”
He cleared his throat, shifting the
brief case from his right hand to his left. “It’s important.”
Nineteen or twenty with a
briefcase? Weird. Maybe he was older than I first guessed. He was tall and had
nice, large, strong hands. A workman’s hands that belied his businessman
attire. Curious, I couldn’t help but lift my gaze to his face. Square, smooth
jaw. Firm lips. Sunlight glinted off of blond hair, trimmed neatly and parted
perfectly to the side. Wire rimmed glasses over green eyes. My gaze jumped back
to his. No, not just green. Intensely green. My heart squeezed, jumping
slightly in surprise. If he lost the glasses and suit, he’d have women eating
out of his hands.
He was a total hot nerd. Like a
blond Clark Kent. I’d always had a thing for super heroes. I rolled back to my
belly, intent on ignoring the man and more importantly, intent on ignoring the
heat swirling low in my belly.
Had Louie gotten a new manager? He
was certainly taking his position rather seriously if his suit was any
indication. The former manager’s idea of dress clothing was an unstained
wife-beater and jeans.
“Emma!” Lizzie cried out. “He’s
kissing her!”
“Shoot!” I lifted the camera and
started clicking before I’d even focused on the target. Sure enough, the man
was pressing his mouth along Kelly’s fragile jaw. Dang, I should have been
paying attention. I could have missed the shot and the paycheck, and all
because of a guy with brilliant green eyes.
“You are Ms. Emma Watts?” the English man behind me persisted.
I didn’t dare look back, or stop
pushing that camera button, afraid he’d draw my attention away from my goal. “Maybe.”
“I have something for you. Papers
and…such.”
Papers. Man wearing a suit.
Realization hit like a punch to the
gut. I should have known. A freaking lawyer. I jerked around, looking up at
him. Grandpa had been sued more than once. “You’ve got the wrong person…”
“Your aunt has died,” he said,
ignoring my protest.
Relief was sweet. Not getting sued.
Thank God. Although Grandpa always won the cases, it had taken time and money I
didn’t have. As the relief gave way, curiosity settled in. Aunt? As far as I
knew, I didn’t have an aunt. “Like I said, wrong person. So either leave, or
get down. You’re blowing my cover.”
He frowned, looking more than
annoyed, but finally knelt beside me. The warm scent of spice and male swirled
through the air, momentarily interrupting my concentration. Visiting bars and
seedy motels, I’d hung around men who barely bathed. I’d forgotten what a clean
man smelled like.
“As I said, your aunt Clarice has
died.”
Lord, his eyes were even more intense
up close. A brilliant green, like moss after a spring shower. I shook my head.
Pretty soon I’d be spouting poetry. I never should have snuck a peak at
Lizzie’s latest romance novel.
“We don’t know an Aunt Clarice,” Lizzie
replied for her, giving the man a brilliant smile. A smile that sent plenty of
males panting to their knees. Sure enough, the man gave her a hesitant smile
back.
Annoyed with their little display
of mutual flirtation, I looked away. It had been the same when we were teens. Even
though she was younger, guys always fell for Lizzie’s innocent and charming
personality. I supposed it didn’t hurt that Lizzie was as hot as a super model
with a body straight from a Victoria Secret’s Catalogue.
“She came from your father’s side,”
he explained.
“Figures.” Ire fought with surprise.
As much as I wanted to know what the heck was going on, my pride wouldn’t allow
me to ask questions. I wanted nothing to do with my father, the man who’d
abandoned us years ago for his secretary. How cliché. And I sure as heck wanted
nothing to do with his family, a family who hadn’t even deemed it important to
send a birthday card once in awhile.
“She’s left you something.” His
warm breath brushed across the back of my neck, stirring the loose tendrils
that had escaped my braid.
I shivered, an unwelcome response
to his nearness. When was the last time I’d been really interested in a guy?
“Oh my God!” Lizzie cried out.
“What’d she leave her?”
Curious, I glanced over my shoulder.
“Money?”
He frowned as if finding talk about
money vulgar. Typical snob. “No.”
“Can I sell it for money?” I asked
just to annoy him, and it worked.
He sighed, obviously exasperated. “Well,
not exactly.”
I turned back around, intent on getting
my shot so I could head home. “Then I’m not interested.”
How had this man found me anyway? I
did as much as possible to keep my address a secret, not wanting to incur the
retaliation of some jaded husband.
Kelly was smiling at the target,
leaning into him a little too desperately. Was he pulling back? I should have
been coaching her, not thinking about my father, now of all times. How dare his
family leave me something. I wanted to shove whatever it was down their throats
and hope they choked on it. I wanted to tell them to go to hell. I didn’t need
anything from my father’s family…ever.
“Emma,” Lizzie hissed. “You’re
being rude.”
I glared at Lizzie. Had my sister
forgotten how our father’s family had ignored us when we’d needed support the
most?
The man sighed. “Ms. Watts, I don’t
think you understand.”
I turned around once more, my anger
flaring. “Oh, I understand completely. You don’t seem to though, so let me make
it clear. I want nothing from the family who abandoned us when my father left.
I want nothing from the family who never called, not even sent a card. Do you
understand now, Mr…”
I didn’t have his name. My rant
would have been so much more effective if I’d had his name. He pushed his
glasses up the bridge of his nose. There was a bump there, as if his nose had
been broken during a fight. I doubted this suit had fought anyone, unless it
had been bullies picking on him in school.
“Owen Emerson. I’m Mr. Emerson.”
“Wonderful to meet you, Mr.
Emerson,” I sneered. “Whatever it is my aunt left me, give it to charity. Now,
please leave so I can do my job.”
His annoyed gaze flickered to
Kelly, then back to me. I could imagine what he thought off my “job.” The look
of disgust was plainly written across his handsome face. “Ms. Watts, please
listen to me. I can’t give this gift away. It’s quite… impossible.”
I admitted, if only to myself that I
liked the way his voice sounded, smooth and lyrical. I completely understood
why women so easily fell for an accent. Yes, his accent was hot, and I hated myself
for thinking so.
“Nothing’s impossible, Mr.
Emerson.”
“Eh, yes.” He hesitated, rubbing
the back of his neck. “Of course, but in this case, there is no possible way to
give away this gift.”
“Really?” Lizzie asked, butting her
nose into the conversation. “I’m Lizzie, by the way.”
They shook hands like the best of
friends. “Nice to meet you.”
“So what do you mean,” Lizzie
asked, “Why can’t you give the gift away?”
He looked down briefly, staring at
the gravel as unease tightened the features of his face. “Well, I suppose
that’s not entirely correct. Perhaps there is one way to dispose of this gift.”
“Yeah?” I prompted, resting my camera
on my knees.
“Death.” He looked up at us, those
green eyes shimmering with sincerity. “The only way to get rid of this gift is
by death.”
Lizzie’s gaze went wide, a look of
pure horror, or was that excitement, crossing her perfect features? My sister
did love drama. “Death?” she whispered.
I sat upright and laughed. He
looked so serious that I couldn’t help myself. “What, exactly, is this supposed
gift?”
“Emma,” Lizzie interrupted, nudging
me in the side. “The target’s looking this way!”
I jerked my head toward Kelly. The man
watched us, frowning, while Kelly tried desperately to regain his attention,
even so much as shoving her breasts in his face.
“Crap!” I grabbed a fist full of Owen’s
shirt and jerked him downward. He landed with a thud half atop me. Lizzie had
somehow managed to crawl under the Lilac. But I was barely aware of my sister.
No, I could only seem to focus on the man above me, the man whose body was pressed
to mine.
“Ms. Watts, this is quite
inappropriate,” he hissed.
I would have laughed at his outrage,
if I hadn’t been offended. I was a healthy, attractive female and he was
complaining? Was he gay? The hot ones always were. Or was Lizzie right? Did I
need a makeover that badly? I shifted, attempting to put distance between us, but
the movement only brought us more fully together.
“Dear God.” He started to rise, but
frantically I grabbed him, using my weight to hold him to me. “Lizzie, is the target
still looking?”
“I don’t know.” She crawled out from
beneath the bush and peeked between the branches. “Oh no.”
I stiffened. “What?”
“He’s coming!”
Just at that moment I heard “Abort!”
in my ear piece.
“Crap.” I released my hold and
shoved my palms into Owen’s hard chest. He didn’t budge. “Move, man!”
He quirked a golden brow in an
imperious way that annoyed the heck out of me. “What, now you want me to get up?”
“Don’t be difficult!”
With a glare, he jumped to his feet
in a fluid, easy movement I couldn’t help but admire. Almost like one who had
studied the martial arts. But I didn’t have time to contemplate that little suspicion.
I was much less graceful as I scrambled to my feet.
“You!” I heard someone scream
behind me.
“He sounds angry,” Lizzie stated
the obvious as she stumbled to her feet.
“Crap, crap, crap.” I snatched my
camera from the ground. “Run, Lizzie!”
I didn’t bother to look back. I
could hear the target huffing toward us. I wasn’t worried about Kelly. She knew
to leave and regroup at the apartment later. But Lizzie was stumbling over her
own feet, thanks to her ridiculously high heels.
“Who the hell do you think you
are?” The man screamed. “Did that witch put you up to this? I’ll sue you! I’ll
call the police!”
People were staring, turning to
look toward us. My cover was totally blown. It sure as heck wasn’t good for
business to be seen. I jumped over the curb and onto the drive.
“Ms. Watts, we really need to talk,”
Owen called out.
I latched onto Lizzie’s arm and
dragged my sister across the parking lot. “I’m not interested, Mr. Emerson.”
I dared to glance back. Owen was merely
standing there, looking just as put together as when he’d arrived. Not a speck
of dirt marred his suit, not a hair out of place.
“Whatever it is, I don’t want it,” I
added.
With that said, I turned back around and raced across
the parking lot toward our beat-up Toyota. As I climbed inside and pulled out
of the drive I couldn’t shake the bad, bad feeling that this wasn’t the last
time I’d see Owen Emerson.








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I get emails daily asking when The Mind Thieves will be out, the second book in the Mind Readers series. Well, it's not ready quite yet...but soon. It will be out in April, although probably toward the end of April. Here are some facts you might be interested in: