Romantic Interludes Part 9

She nodded. "He's taking me sailing this weekend."

"Great!" Emily turned a page. "What about Mark?"

Jessica wrinkled her nose. "Not so much."

"What happened?"

"Nothing bad," she said quickly, holding up a hand. "I mean, he was nice enough. But all he talked about was polo." She rolled her eyes. "Play by plays of his big matches . . . the trophies he's won. It got a little boring, to be honest."

Emily raised an eyebrow, jotting some notes on Mark's profile. "I can imagine. Well, believe me, I'll be having a little chat with Mark." She ignored the little flutter in her stomach when she asked, "And Sam? Where did you two go?"

Jessica's frown lifted into a wide smile. "Mini golf. And pizza."

"Really?" Apparently, Sam needed some dating advice from Emily as well.

"Oh, yeah, it was so much fun. I won, although I think Sam might have let me. I couldn't be sure." She leaned forward. "We went for pizza afterwards and I found out he actually likes anchovies. I love anchovies, but I've never found anybody who will let me order them!"

Emily felt a bit nauseous. Probably due to the mention of anchovies. "And how did the date end?"

"We had coffee at a little place down the street from my house and he walked me home." She shrugged. "It was nice."

"No kiss?"

She shook her head, and Emily definitely did not feel a little thrill at the response.

"I don't know," Jessica said. "I like Sam. I really do. But there was no special connection, you know? Not like with Adam."

At that moment, Emily experienced what is commonly referred to as an ethical dilemma. She would have been lying to say she wasn't the tiniest bit happy at the news, but at the same time, the software picked Sam as an ideal match for Jessica, and she wouldn't be doing her job if she didn't do her best to convince her client to at least give him a chance.

She swallowed. "But you said you had a great time."

"We did. But I think he's more of a friend, not a boyfriend."

Emily pushed her gla.s.ses up her nose and considered the spreadsheet before her, mapping out the compatibility of Jessica with each candidate. There was no denying it-Sam's numbers were better than Adam's. According to the computer, he was the better match.

"What do you think?" Jessica asked, biting her lip nervously as Emily surveyed the data.

That settled it. This woman was depending on her to be a professional, to do her job. She couldn't give her anything less than the best service, despite her personal feelings.

Not that she was having personal feelings. Not at all. Much.

She set the papers down and took off her gla.s.ses, looking at Jessica steadily. "I think you need to give Sam another chance," she said. "Go out with Adam. I think he's a good option for you. But don't write off Sam. According to the compatibility algorithms, he's an excellent match. I'd hate for you to give up on him based on only one date when he could be the one."

"You really think so?"

"I do." Emily ignored the little voice screaming inside her head. "I do," she said again, unsure if she was trying to convince Jessica or herself.

It wasn't unheard of. She'd done it before. Okay, so it had only been twice, and only because the clients couldn't get the time off work to come to her office, but Emily chose not to dwell on that as she stood outside Cavanaugh's Cakery, taking a few deep breaths to calm her racing heart before going inside. She'd met with Adam Keller already-in her office-but when she'd called to arrange a similar meeting with Sam and gotten his voice mail, she'd found herself saying she'd stop by his bakery after she left the office.

Again, it wasn't unheard of. It was perfectly professional. Just a chance to debrief him about his date with Jessica and give him some suggestions for the next one. Maybe trying to be less brother-like and more boyfriend-like.

Right.

Perfectly professional.

She almost had herself convinced of that when the door swung open and a woman and young boy came out, holding the door open for her expectantly.

"Thank you," she muttered, unable to delay going inside any longer, despite the fact that all her deep breathing had apparently been for naught.

Emily stepped into the brightly lit shop, painted in shades of blue and pale yellow. Framed photographs of elaborate wedding cakes hung on the walls over several small cafe-style tables, apparently for tastings. A gla.s.s case along the far wall housed a half-dozen birthday cakes of various themes. On a raised ceramic stand atop the case stood a gorgeous eight-tier wedding cake in shades of white and cream, with sugar flowers and sparkling crystals twinkling under the overhead lights.

Emily wondered at how such a big, masculine man could create something so beautiful and delicate.

"Be right out!" a voice called through a doorway behind the case, which Emily a.s.sumed led to the kitchen.

She could smell the sweet scent of baking and her mouth watered, reminding her she hadn't yet had dinner. Idly, she walked by the case, examining the cakes within and smiling at a three-tiered one in pink and black with little high-heeled shoes parading around the edge. A surprisingly realistic Coach purse made out of fondant took up a good portion of the top, a pair of sugar pearl earrings and a bracelet scattered next to it.

Jessica would have loved that one.

"Want a bite?"

Emily jumped at the sound of Sam's voice, relaxing a bit when she saw him holding out a cupcake in the palm of his hand.

He rolled his eyes at her suspicious look. "It's just a cupcake," he said, lifting it slightly to emphasize his words. "Well, I shouldn't say just. It's double-chocolate with salted caramel frosting, and it's incredible, if I do say so myself."

Emily smirked. "Mighty sure of yourself."

"Definitely. At least when it comes to salted caramel frosting." He grinned at her. "Go on, take it. I'm relatively certain one cupcake isn't going to jeopardize your professional objectivity."

"I don't know. It's hard to be impartial about chocolate."

Was she flirting?

"Double chocolate."

Was he?

"Even more so." She looked away from his crinkling eyes, and stepped back to put some distance between them.

He set the cupcake on top of the case, his smile falling slightly.

With a mental eye roll, she reached for the cupcake, feeling more than a little ridiculous about making such a big deal over an innocent conversation.

"Thank you," she said quietly, peeling back the paper.

He watched her carefully as she took a small bite and licked a dab of frosting off her lips.

She froze. "Holy c.r.a.p," she mumbled through the cupcake.

Sam's face broke into a smile. "Good?"

Instead of answering, she took a bigger bite.

The cake itself was dark and rich, moist and not too sweet, a perfect counterpoint to the sinfully rich ganache filling and the smooth, velvety frosting. A drizzle of caramel boosted the flavor to eleven on a one-to-ten scale, and Emily closed her eyes as she swallowed, barely stifling a moan of appreciation.

She opened her eyes to find him watching her intently, his eyes focused on her lips.

"This is incredible," she said, a little breathless.

His gaze snapped up to meet hers. "Thank you," he rasped, the sound stirring something trembly within her. He shook his head, as if to clear it. "Thank you," he repeated, a little louder.

She just nodded, unable to form words, and took another bite of the cupcake as he cleared his throat.

Eventually, they overcame the awkward moment and ended up at one of the small tables talking over cups of coffee. They chatted about the business, how he became a cake designer-"The cake was always my favorite part of any party. Birthdays, weddings, whatever, so I figured, why not?" Favorite books-Tolkien for him, Austen for her, although they both had a soft spot for C.S. Lewis-his love of rock climbing and her preference for hiking. Even cartoons they watched as children.

"How could you not like the Super Friends?" she asked, coffee long forgotten as she threw up her hands in frustration. "Superman? Wonder Woman? It had all the big names!"

He snorted in derision. "Come on, Aquaman? Lamest superhero ever. And those Wonder Twins were ridiculous!"

"You don't fool me. I bet you played Wonder Twins when you were little."

"Are you kidding?" He really looked affronted. "Like I'd ever want to be Zan."

"Ha! You remember his name." She pointed at him, laughing, and he had the grace to look a bit chagrined.

"I have a good memory," he said stubbornly. "And I still say s...o...b.. Doo! was better."

"It was the same show every time! The ghost was always the caretaker in a rubber mask."

"Yeah, well, he would have gotten away with it if it wasn't for those meddling kids."

By this time, they were laughing hysterically. Emily couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so relaxed with another person. Perhaps it was because she'd forgotten to worry about touching him. He stuck to his side of the table and didn't make any move to come closer, so she'd just been able to enjoy the conversation.

In fact, she was a little scared to think about just how much she'd enjoyed it. It was only as the streetlights outside the window kicked on that she realized they had yet to discuss what she'd come there to talk about.

"So," she said, fiddling with her empty cup. "Jessica said she had a nice time."

He blinked a bit at the abrupt change of topic, but recovered quickly. "I'm glad."

"She'd like to see you again."

He choked a bit on his coffee. "She would? I have to say I'm surprised."

"Yes, well . . ." She spun her cup around on the saucer, not meeting his eyes. "You two do make a compatible match, and I understand that the chemistry might not have been there initially, but that kind of thing can grow over time. I would encourage you to pursue the relationship."

"That's really what you want?"

"Of course. It's my job to find Jessica the right-"

"Is that really what you want?"

She looked up and immediately regretted it when she was caught in his gaze-his blue eyes focused on hers and searching for the truth.

She sprang to her feet. "Of course." She cleared her throat, gathering her things. "Of course," she said again. "I'm sorry, I've taken up too much of your time. I really should be going-"

"Emily . . ." He stood up, leaning forward across the table.

"You can contact Jessica at any time to arrange a second date-"

"Don't do this . . ."

"Of course, if you have any questions, you can contact Heather, my a.s.sist-"

"Emily!" he said, sharper now. "Why are you doing this?"

"I'm not doing anything but my job." She shouldered her purse, jumping as he stepped toward her. "Don't!"

"What's wrong?" he asked softly. "I wasn't going to hurt you."

"I know," she stammered. "I know that." She was floundering, uncertain.

"There's something between us. I know you feel it."

"It doesn't matter-I mean, no, there isn't. There can't be." A rush of panic twisted in her stomach as she turned toward the door and he reached for her, his fingers wrapping around her wrist.

"No!" she shouted, but it was too late. Her wall came tumbling down and a rush of intuition surged through her. She gasped at the influx of emotion . . . of knowing . . . of the familiar click of a key in a lock.

But not Jessica's lock.

No, in that instance, she realized she'd misread her gift. It didn't see Sam as the match for Jessica. The key was him, but the lock was her.

"No," she whispered, tears springing to her eyes. This was not what she wanted. This was not what she needed.

"Emily, what is it?" he asked, concern in his gaze as he leaned toward her. His thumb rubbed at her pulse point as his eyes dipped to her lips. "Can't we . . . Can't I . . ."

Tentatively, he bent toward her and she swayed slightly, caught in his magnetic pull. For a long moment, she considered dropping her guard and for just once, giving in to what her heart-her very being-seemed to want. She felt her gift surge in pleasure, reaching out for him.

"No!" she said, wrenching her hand out of his grip and fighting to build her wall back up. Brick by brick, it held back the knowing, the wanting, the desire, and longing so fierce it made her ache as she moved away from him. "No," she said again, swallowing thickly as she straightened her jacket, her professional persona once again moving to the forefront.

"I need to go. I think it best that Heather handle any further questions you may have."

He opened his mouth as if to respond, and she realized his arm was still stretched out toward her. She lifted her chin stubbornly and his hand fell to his side, his jaw tense.

"All right. If you think that's best."

Emily said nothing more, just gave him a businesslike nod and made her way to the door, keeping a safe distance between them.

Instead of going home, she went to the office. That is to say, she started to go home, then changed direction two or three times before heading back to Perfect Match with a frustrated growl and a frown of grim determination.