Chapter One

Brook crossed her legs and sipped a sweet iced tea while scanning the walkway outside the cafe. Each time a young man stopped and entered, she held her breath, wondering if her date had finally arrived. This was why she hated blind dates. The last thing she needed was to appear desperate, yet here she was, eagle eyes narrowing on every man not already attached to someone else.

She brushed at her peach dress, a fitted, sleeveless affair that clung to her curves in all the right ways. The soft color was one of her favorites, playing up her barely sun-kissed skin and new vibrant hair color. Just because she didn’t want a date didn’t mean she wasn’t going to dress her best.

Looking up she noticed a man in a sky-blue polo and khakis heading her way, attention focused on the red sweater she’d hung on the chair opposite her own. It was the flag, so to speak, in case he didn’t recognize her from the photo.

He walked over, a smile on his face.

“Brook?”

“That’s me,” she responded.

He sat, glancing around. She leaned forward to shake his hand, and he took it reluctantly. Up close she noticed that his smile seemed stressed.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No. Just wanted to make sure I had the right person,” he said.

She sat back and slid a menu his way. “If there’s another Brook here with my face and sweater, I’d be running.”

He nodded and frowned down at the menu. She studied him. The wind blew over his stiffly pomaded blonde hair, not moving a single strand. His face was handsome but forgettable, as if there were such a thing as a perfect generic.

An expensive watch decorated his wrist and an onyx ring stood out like a mountain on his hand. His shoes looked like the sort billionaires wore on yachts.

Yet another reason she didn’t like blind dates. Perhaps she didn’t have a type, but she certainly had a ‘not my type,’ and this guy was it. Be nice. Maybe he’s really sweet. Begrudgingly, she recalled the adage that opposites attract.

“So… Ethan, right?”

He blinked up at her. “Oh, sorry. Yeah. Ethan. Guess I’m a little out of sorts.”

“Anna didn’t mention what you do.”

Holding his menu and leaning back in his seat he shrugged. “I like to think of myself as a Renaissance man.”

Oh, dear gods. She tried not to cringe outwardly. “Okay… go on?”

“I’ve tried my hand at a few things. I did accounting for years, great at it but I wanted something with more passion. I think my place is in business management.”

“What sort of business?”

“Any. My dad’s working on pulling some strings, listening around. Meanwhile, I’ve been moonlighting—I guess you could say—as a model.”

Brook’s eyebrows threatened to lift high enough to leave her face entirely. She cleared her throat and took a sip of her tea before responding, “I’m sorry—how do you know Anna?”

“She did my taxes last year and we kept in touch. I thought maybe we had something… you know, chemistry, but I guess then I wouldn’t be here.”

Brook smiled and glanced down at her menu, even though she already knew what she wanted.

“Are you getting a salad?” he asked.

She pursed her lips and met his eyes. Careful. “I don’t eat salad when I’m at a restaurant. I can rip apart lettuce and sprinkle dressing on it at home and save ten dollars.”

“Yeah… I get it, I guess.” Ethan tossed his menu on the table and leaned forward. “Look, your face is really pretty for a large woman, but you’re not what I expected.”

Brook arched a brow. “Anna said you saw my picture. Though, I guess my hair was blonde then.” She twirled a long, dark ruby tendril around her finger. “This is new. I think it’s called ‘Red Velvet.’ Something delicious.”

“It was just your face, and the angle…I guess there was cleavage, and don’t get me wrong, I’m a boob guy, but that’s a lot of—”

Her smile faded, and she released the lock of hair from her grasp. “You can go now.”

“You don’t have to take it personally. I support body positivity, I just think we can’t do things together. I’m a really active guy,” he reasoned.

“Don’t take it personally that I’m ‘pretty for a large woman,’ is that really what you think is body positive?” she asked calmly. She narrowed her blue eyes on him and allowed her usual resting bitch face to shine through. “You didn’t even need to sit down and waste my time. You aren’t doing me a favor by telling me to eat salad and revealing that you’d rather be banging Anna.”

“Why are you being a bitch about it, I’m the one who was deceived.”

“Are you still here? You need to walk away before you kill my appetite,” she said coldly. “And you know I take food seriously.”

He stood, face and composure annoyed. “Whatever.”

She didn’t bother watching him leave. Glancing over her shoulder, she flagged the waitress and ordered the chicken Alfredo with a cup of the house tomato basil soup. She passed on the complimentary side salad.

Pulling out her phone, she composed a text in her head, something that would say ‘what the fuck were you thinking?’ as politely as possible. Anna was her supervisor, after all. She couldn’t burn that bridge, no matter how tenuous the support.

“It’s a shame you had to waste even a minute of your time with that poor specimen of a man,” a feminine voice stated.

Brook looked up to find a stunning older woman in a tailored navy dress. Her bright blue eyes peered down at Brook.

“I didn’t realize I’d made a scene,” Brook admitted.

“You didn’t. My hearing is just a little more sensitive than most.” The woman extended her hand. “Gerri Wilder.”

* * * *

Brook took the woman’s hand and gave it a quick shake. “Brook Donovan.”

“May I sit?” she asked. “The weather is gorgeous, and the patio is full. I’m just having some tea.”

Brook gestured to the empty seat. “Of course. I don’t mind eating alone but I won’t say no to the company.”

Gerri sat, a gentle smile gracing her face. “Thank you.” She fingered the menu and peered at Brook. “Not to focus on something I’m sure you’re eager to forget, but I’m in the dating business, and I absolutely hate to see a bad match.”

“Which is why I wasn’t looking for it.”

“Oh?”

“It was a stupid set-up. My boss thought it would work, which is about par. Anna’s a genius at her job, but her social skills are severely lacking.”

“A shame. You handled it well enough. That’s impressive.” The older woman brushed her fingertips through her stylishly bobbed white hair, fixing what the errant breeze seemed determined to ruin. “Perhaps a professional matchmaker would do better?”

Brook chuckled lightly. “Ah, thanks. But no. Between my job and the volunteer work I do for the historical society, I don’t have time for dates.”

“Except bad ones?” Gerri asked. “I’m kidding. There’s nothing wrong with focusing on your career. And you said… historical society?”

“I handle tours, mostly. Occasionally pitch in at a fundraiser or two.”

“Fascinating.” Gerri’s smile grew, and her eyes sparkled as if she were plotting something. “But just between us, if you were ever to be in the market for a man, what interests you?”

The waitress returned, placing a hot aromatic tea before Gerri and arranging Brook’s pasta and soup on the table.

Brook stirred the soup, a bit impressed by Gerri’s determination. “To be honest, I think I want too much. Luckily, if I’m meant to be alone, I’ll cope.”

“Nonsense. Granted, perhaps some people prefer solitude, but for those who wish it, there is someone for everyone.” Gerri seemed to size Brook up. “My clientele is different. Shifters, mostly. They tend to have a knack for having more than enough love.”

“Love is nice. But the path to get there is the trick,” Brook replied. “I won’t lie. I’ve met great men before—don’t for a minute think that losers like Ethan make up the majority of my experience. I’m a curvy woman, but I usually attract the men who fawn over that.”

Gerri nodded and took a delicate sip of her tea before motioning Brook to continue. “But?”

“But,” Brook drew out the word, arranging her thoughts, “I may be expecting too much. I want to settle down, but I don’t want to settle, if you know what I mean. I don’t want to have a partner that makes me wonder ‘what if,’ I want someone who I know is the best for me, no doubts at all.”

“That’s how love should be. What are your expectations?”

“I want someone serious but fun. The kind of guy who will join me at fancy parties and not complain about wearing a tie but will do shots with me later when we’re done schmoozing with co-workers. Classy when it’s necessary but never arrogant. On top of that, he can’t be afraid to step out of this city or this state, or this country for that matter, because I love exploring unfamiliar places and I’ve always wanted to share that.”

“Go on,” Gerri urged.

Brook looked to the sky, imagining her dream catch. There was a guilty pleasure that came from sharing this with a stranger. Gerri didn’t seem as judgmental as her friends, who regularly insisted that her perfect man wouldn’t exist unless she dropped a few requirements.

“Sometimes men are sweet and doting, but in the wrong spirit. I’m not a delicate flower, and I hate being underestimated. The guy for me would care for me but not patronize me.”

“None of these things sound like too much to me,” Gerri said. “But you’re skipping the meat of the matter.”

“Which is?”

“The sex, of course.”

Brook eyed Gerri with a smirk. “I knew I liked you. Yes, I want all the fabulous, passionate sex. So, you see, I want a sexy, smart, funny, talented lover. With his suitcases packed.” She sighed. “A girl can dream.”

Gerri sipped her tea and stared off thoughtfully. After a moment she nodded. “I guess you need someone out of this world.”