Crystal

"A private compartment," I said. "This is…extravagant." I smiled at him as I sat and focused my attention on him.

"All the more to impress you." He sat opposite me and took the lid off the dish, revealing a fruit and cheese plate. He offered it to me.

"What would you have done with all this if I had chosen the city option?" I filled my appetizer plate.

"Donated it to a worthy person."

"And how would you have done that?" I shook my head. "You mean some steward would have had a nice meal and a place to nap." I pulled a bottle of sparkling water from the ice bucket and gestured around the compartment. "I can't believe you would have just eaten the tickets and all this." A thought occurred to me. "Wait a minute. What did you waste with the city option?"

He struggled to keep a straight face.

My mouth fell open. "Nothing? You were going to wing the city option. You knew I'd pick the train."

"'Wing' is such an ugly term," he said. "It implies no foresight. I had an agenda all planned out. You don't need reservations for pub crawling." He pointed to my water. "We can order something stronger."

"No thanks. This is perfect. I'm saving myself…for beer later." Flirting with him was too fun. "A pub crawl, huh? I might be sorry I'm missing it. I like a good pub crawl. Haven't really been on a great one since college."

"There's always tomorrow." He grabbed a bottle of dry soda and unscrewed the cap. "My friends and I make a habit of trying out the new pubs all the time. And the distilleries. You never know what great beers you'll discover or who you'll meet. Sometime I'll have to tell you about the time we met Connor Reid and had kilt lifters with him before Comicon."

Now my eyes were wide. "Kilt lifter beer or kilt lifter cocktails?"

"Cocktails makes them sound girly. I assure you, a kilt lifter isn't girly. And Connor can hold his share of them and straight whisky."

I laughed. "You really went drinking with Connor Reid? The star of the Jamie show? I might have a calendar of him at home." I winked. But I did have a Jamie calendar. Trend research. Ahem.

Jeremy kept his cool. "Yes. Connor's been a friend since we met him the night before Comicon this spring. He was out drinking all by himself when we offered to keep him company. I'll introduce you to him if I get the chance." He laughed. "In the meantime, I'll have to introduce you to my friend Austin, who's practically Connor's twin. He did some promo for the current season of the show. And by the way, I have a kilt, too. And a fine sword—"

"A fine sword, have you?" I laughed at his innuendo. "Now you're just trying to tempt me."

His answering grin was beautiful and toe-curling.

I realized who Jeremy's friend was now. All the Jamie fan groups had been full of the romance between Jamie and Elinor lookalikes Austin and Blair since spring.

"You have some interesting friends. And a high-profile life, from the sounds of it."

He shrugged. "Not usually."

"You mean when you're not pulling truck drivers from lapping tongues of fire and thick smoke or hanging out with billionaires, famous actors, and social media celebrities?"

"You were right beside me saving that truck driver. And I can't help that my college buddy Lazer did so well for himself. He was just a regular nerd when I met him and my other college buddies. We worked hard and got lucky. Meeting Connor was an example of a gregarious nature and alcohol-fueled confidence combining with luck." He leaned toward me. "We only knew who Connor was. Ashley thought Austin looked like him and could get a lot of babes if he played that up. For us, he was just a guy with an accent in a kilt. No one special. His effect on the ladies, though, that was pretty obvious. Sitting in that booth with Connor, we were the envy of every woman in that bar. If only we could have used that coin to snag a woman for ourselves."

"Barbarian," I teased. "Did you go to Comicon?"

"Yeah. Sure. We go every year," he said. "My buddies and I have been into cosplay since college. We've been trying to win the amateur Jet City Comicon Cosplay Competition since, with no luck, unfortunately. Austin came close this year dressed as Jamie the Sinclair. We told him it wasn't a winning costume. Not enough Jamie fans at Comicon compared to other shows. But he was following Ashley's advice and determined. Good thing he listened to Ashley, because being Jamie attracted Blair and now they're married.

"Ashley has the knack, a sixth sense, and knows her stuff. I trust her implicitly." He stared at me with the most flattering look in his eyes—part awe, part affection, part lust.

"And you?" I said, basking in that look. "Who do you dress up as?"

"Isn't it obvious?" He flexed. "One superhero or another, depending on my mood."

"Naturally."

"Do you cosplay?"

"Not officially." I hated to disappoint him. I was surprised by how much I wanted to have everything in common with him. If not cosplaying was a deal breaker, I'd learn to love it. "But I like to dress up. I love Halloween and costume parties."

He relaxed. "You like to dress up? That's a relief. We can always make a cosplayer out of a woman who loves a good costume. I couldn't date a woman who isn't open to cosplay."

"I believe I've discovered your first deal breaker," I said. "Score one for me. Now it's a matter of flexibility and compromise—would you settle for a woman who doesn't like to cosplay herself, but is supportive of your desire to?"

He was quiet a moment. "If she was great in most ways, yeah. You're smiling. Did I just pass a test?"

"I like a man who's flexible and open to compromise. Who won't throw an otherwise wonderful relationship out because of one difference in taste or hobbies."

"You think we have differences in essential tastes or hobbies?"

"I think it's very likely. Everyone has differences. It's what makes life and relationships interesting."

He offered me the cheese plate. "More cheese?"

"Is that a bribe to shut me up about differences?"

"Nah. It's a test to see if we have irreconcilable differences in our taste in cheese. If you're a gouda lover, we have a problem."

I deliberately chose a wrapped baby gouda.

With lightning-quick reflexes, he grabbed my hand and took the gouda gently from me. He unwrapped it, holding my gaze. Finally, he held it out to me, offering me a bite. "I was wrong. Bad taste in cheese apparently isn't all that important when you're with a beautiful, funny, intelligent woman."

I took a generous bite, nipping dangerously close to his fingertips intentionally.

He didn't flinch. "At least it wasn't smoked."

That gouda completely broke the ice. We both laughed and broke into a heated discussion of the best local cheeses as the train pulled south out of the station, rolling past south Seattle toward Tacoma. I voted for Beecher's. Jeremy was a big Cougar Gold fan.

I hadn't thought about it until we started moving, but Jeremy had considerately given me the forward-facing seat and booked us the east side of the train, giving us a view of Mount Rainier.

A steward brought us our salads. We were so engrossed in our conversation that we barely noticed him.

"Can I ask you something?" Jeremy set his salad fork down.

I studied him. "That's an intense expression. It must be a question of great import."

"Now that we've exhaustively debated the importance of extra sharpness in cheddar, it's my job on this date to keep the conversation moving and find out everything I can about you."

"Given the importance of your task, and the seriousness with which you're approaching it, yes, I give you leave to ask me a question. But only one. Make it good."

Despite my playful tone, his expression turned serious. "Why did you disappear from the scene of the accident that day? One minute you were beside me. The next, I turned around to get your number and you were gone. If not for Ashley and a drunk with burned hair, we wouldn't be here."

I set my fork down. He deserved an honest answer. "I don't like publicity. It's not good for my business. People like me are observers, not limelighters. We work best when we sit back and take in what's going on around us."

"You can't take the credit, shine one time, like at the accident?" He frowned. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but it was almost like you panicked when the news crew showed up. You aren't in the witness protection program or an undercover spy, too, are you? Living under an assumed identity? Hiding out from a psychotic stalker?"

"You have a vivid imagination." I finished my salad and set my fork down. "The answer is no to all of those. I'm just me."

"Then why?"

"You don't give up easily." I wasn't sure I wanted to answer. How much did I trust him this early on?

He stared at me.

I sighed. "All right. But this is just between you and me?"

He nodded.

"I was working. I'd just come from a client meeting."

He waited for me to go on.

"I hate to come across as arrogant," I said, "but I'm good at what I do. I'm in demand. In my area of expertise, I'm well known."

"You don't need to be humble. There's no shame in admitting to your talents," he said.

I liked him. I really did. "Thank you. The client, who's paying me an exorbitant sum, is in a highly competitive field and working on a new business model that's top secret. I'm under a strict nondisclosure agreement for them, so tight that they don't even want it known I'm working with them. Corporate espionage is a real thing in their biz. If word gets out I'm consulting for them, well, it puts them under scrutiny and arouses suspicion they're not in the mood for."

"Ah," he said. "There aren't that many businesses in that area of town that would be hiring someone like you, is that it?"

He was bright and quick. I liked that.

"Exactly." I nodded. "I couldn't take any chances of being seen on TV. So I ran." I smiled. "And, by the way, should you have any guesses about who my client is, which I'm sure you do, judging from how well you appear to know the area, please keep them to yourself."

"Cross my heart." He made the motion. "My friends and I are in the corporate security business after a fashion, too. I understand the need for secrecy and discretion."

The steward came in, preventing either of us from saying more. He collected our salad plates and served our main course—gourmet pizzas.

I looked at the pizzas, then Jeremy. "I hope these are made with Beecher's cheese."

He looked surprised.

"What?"

He laughed. "I can't vouch for what cheese the chef used. Only that he uses the finest ingredients. I thought you were going to give me grief for pizza and beer. Especially after our inauspicious first coffee date. When I told Ashley I was taking you out for beer and pizza, she came out of her chair. I can only plead limited dining options aboard the train."

I spontaneously reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "Who doesn't like pizza?"

"It's a safe bet, right?"

I looked him deeply in the eyes. "Pizza is one of my favorite foods in the whole world."

"Score one for me." He returned the hand squeeze.

Our gazes held. Something deep passed between us, an understanding. A spark. A bit of electricity. A glimpse of a future together. I only knew that I had never felt as close to a guy before, especially after such a short time.

I saw he felt it, too. He cleared his throat and dropped my hand. "Pizza?"

We both reached for the same slice of pizza at the same time.

He backed off and gestured toward it. "Please. It's yours."

"Another thing we have in common," I said as I took it. "We were both eyeing the same slice with plenty of meat." I waited for him to grab a slice.

He paused with the pizza slice held in front of him. "So you can't go anywhere without arousing corporate suspicions?"

"I have to be careful, that's all. Especially during business hours and in business districts."

"You can't talk about your current projects. I can't talk about mine. This is going to be lively conversation," he said. "Looks like either we're going to have to sit around and stare at each other, or come up with another scintillating topic."

"Yeah," I said. "I guess so."

He set his pizza on his plate. "Seriously—is being too high-profile one of your deal breakers?" He wasn't good with a poker face. The worry was clear in his expression, and completely heart-melting.

"Not for the right guy." I grinned and lifted my slice of pizza, licking a string of dripping cheese and wrapping it around my tongue. "I can talk about my work, some of my work, after I'm off the project and the knowledge becomes public. Some of my projects are even on my résumé. I have to put something out to attract new clients. And I can always talk methodology."

"All right, talk."

I slid my foot right up next to his beneath the table, pressing it against his, just to see his reaction. To his credit, this time his expression gave nothing away. But he didn't move his foot, either. "Methodology or actual cases?"

"Talk method and throw some case studies in. How does a unicorn hunter spot her prey?"

"Prey!" I laughed. "Trends aren't exactly prey. It's a lot of data and statistics. Demographic info. And gut instinct."

"Sounds a lot like internet security. Talk statistics and data to me. I love that shit. It's sexy."

"You are an odd man." I rubbed his foot with mine. "But one after my own heart." I started talking.

He listened raptly, completely silent for a good few minutes, and then dove in, interjecting great insights. He knew his statistics and data theory. He asked intelligent questions. I fell more and more in love with him. Do you have any idea how rare a man like him was?

Maybe I had found what I was looking for—my very own unicorn. Every word he spoke, every question he asked, convinced me more. Yes, I was falling hard.