The Matchmaker Meets Her Match (12 page)

Marcus paled under his tan and glanced around the room as if someone might cuff him on suspicion. “Not so loud,” he said.

“I’ve told you I’m perfectly happy just the way I am,” Marilyn said to Rilka through gritted teeth.

“I keep forgetting. You do sort of glow with inner joy.”

“Rilka,” Marilyn said, the warning in her voice as clear a signal as the folded arms.

“Fine,” Rilka said, sighing with exasperation. “Marcus can be my date.”

“Rilka, I’d be delighted but — ”

“He can’t score if you’re sitting there,” a wry voice said. Rilka jumped at the sound of Jeremy’s voice and turned to look.

“Hey, Jeremy,” Rilka said. “This is Marcus. You’ve met the tall redhead glaring at me. Marilyn’s my best friend.”

“You do have a way with people,” Jeremy said. “And yes, I know Marilyn. How’s it going?”

Marilyn grunted and moved down the bar to slice limes. Jeremy stuck his hand out and said, “Nice to meet you, Marcus.”

“The same,” Marcus said, shaking his hand.

Jeremy turned to Rilka. “So how’s our baby?”

“She’s obnoxious as hell. She takes after you that way.”

“What baby?” Marilyn asked, looking up from the limes.

“I’m taking care of Mrs. Olsen’s dog. God, I didn’t even tell you about that, Marilyn. Mrs. Olsen had a heart attack — where are you going, Marcus?”

“See that blonde shooting pool? I’m about to get invited back to her place.”

“Confidence is so sexy,” Rilka said, watching him move. Or obnoxious. One or the other. “He could probably walk out of here with any woman he wanted.”

“Then what does he need you for?” Jeremy asked. Rilka handed him the Rolling Rock on the counter since Marcus wasn’t going to take it.

“Not everyone just wants to get laid, Jeremy. His … career makes it difficult for him to find a quality woman who’ll stick around.” Yech. Had she just used the phrase
quality woman
? She was doomed.

Jeremy nodded. “Some people are just never happy. Here’s a guy who can get laid six nights a week and it’s not enough?”

Marilyn rolled her eyes and started slicing lemons.

“It’s not enough,” Rilka said. “For anyone, even you, Jeremy.”

• • •

Maybe if he got her drunk. Jeremy lifted the bottle of Rolling Rock to his lips and noticed that Marilyn served Rilka a Diet Coke. Did aspartame lower inhibitions? He seriously doubted it.

He sighed and glanced around the room, lifting his hand to acknowledge a couple of regulars he knew.

“Am I cramping your style?” Rilka asked.

“Nah,” Jeremy said, cool and casual. “I’m not trying to pick anyone up tonight.”
Except you.
Although that was dumb. He was probably attracted to her because he couldn’t have her. That was what Nate had said, or at least what Nate’s wife had said, which Nate had passed along to him, which it was really wonderful having people talk about your love life like that. Jeremy had the feeling that he liked Rilka because she was likeable, and not for any weird psychological reason. It was just coincidence that she was unavailable to him.

She pushed a cloud of hair away from her face. “Distract me from my troubles,” she said.

“At your service.”

“You play darts?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Bet I’ll beat you.”

“Care to back up your big mouth?”

He grinned and reached for his wallet.

“Don? This is Rilka.” She glanced at the clock. If she could keep this phone call short, she’d have just enough time to get to Julia’s ballet recital. “Look, I have another match I wanted to tell you about.”

“Are you kidding?” Deputy Deane asked. “A couple a dates with those wackos and I begged my wife to come back home.”

“Oh,” Rilka said, taken aback. “Well … that’s great.”

“Damn straight,” Don said. “Ain’t letting her walk away again. I can’t go through that again.”

Another satisfied customer,
Rilka thought, hanging up the phone and making a mental note to remove him from the active file.

She glanced at the clock. Just time to brush her hair before heading to Julia’s ballet recital.

She was headed down the hall to her bedroom when the doorbell rang. If it was Jeremy, she’d invite him along. She moved quickly to the door. Her face fell when she caught sight of who it was. Not Jeremy.

“Duncan? Hi, sweetie. I’d love to talk to you but I have an appointment.”

“I just need a minute,” he said and burst into tears.

“Oh, dear,” Rilka said, handing him a tissue. She kept boxes of tissues located strategically throughout the house; there was one on a stand by the front door. You never knew when a client would burst into tears. Sometimes they were tears of joy, but not lately.

With a convulsive movement, Duncan grabbed her and sobbed on her shoulder. Awkwardly she patted him on the back. She couldn’t help taking a nice deep breath of his heady scent.
I have a male supermodel in my arms and all I can think is, if he only had a brain …

“Duncan, honey, what brought this on?”

“I called Daphne.”

“But I told you — wait, how’d you get her number?” No, that didn’t matter. “Sweetie, she told me she felt it wasn’t a good match. And that’s what I told you.”

“I know. But I just wanted the truth.”

“Oh, dear.”

“So she told me. She was really gentle. But I’m just — I give up,” he wailed, his shoulders shaking. Rilka did not have time to buck him up but she couldn’t just abandon him to his administrative assistant. Who was — there, parked at the curb even now. Rilka gave her the “I got this” wave.

“Look,” Rilka said to Duncan, patting him on the back. “Come with me. I promised a friend I’d watch her recital tonight and I really need to go. Maybe it’ll take your mind off this for a little bit. Then you and I can go out to dinner afterwards and we can talk about everything. Okay?”

“I can’t eat,” he moaned.

“No problem, I’ll eat, you drink.”

“Okay,” he said, sniffing. He lifted his head from her shoulder and dabbed at his eyes with the tissue. God, he was beautiful. Upset, he looked tragic, not comic. Noble, heroic, gorgeous, and she wanted to take his clothes off and comfort him.

“C’mon,” she said, tucking his hand in her elbow and leaving the house before she did something stupid with him.

• • •

“Turn here,” Duncan said, tapping the window on his side of the car.

“I know where I’m going,” Rilka said.

“But you’ll arrive empty-handed,” he protested. “You can’t go to a ballerina’s recital without a bouquet of flowers to give her afterwards.”

“She’s not that kind of ballerina,” Rilka said, but she turned anyway. He had a point.

“Roses,” Duncan called after her as she entered the florist shop. She returned a few minutes later with a mixed bouquet and handed them to him to hold.

“Charming,” he said sourly.

Rilka gave him a startled glance. He’d never used that tone of voice with her before. “When you pay, you can bring roses,” she said, starting the car.

The recital was being held at the community theater playhouse. Despite barely arriving in time, they were able to find two seats near the front of the room.

“Not exactly a full house,” Rilka said.

“Everyone has to start somewhere,” Duncan said, philosophical. A Duncan she had not experienced before. He sat down and looked attentively at the stage.

The instructor, a severe-looking gaunt woman with dyed black hair scraped back into a bun, stepped on stage and thanked them for coming, then described the evening’s coming events in rather more detail than Rilka thought was strictly necessary. The program indicated that it was going to be a long night.
Anything for a friend
, Rilka reminded herself, and was startled to realize that was what Julia had become.

The house lights dimmed and the stage lights rose. Then a chorus of dancers entered, thumping rather loudly in counterpoint to the music being played over the sound system. The dancers were of various ability levels but all exhibited more heart than actual talent. Still, there were worse ways to spend an evening. She could be interviewing clients. This was much better than that.

“That’s Julia,” she said in a low voice to Duncan, pointing. “The brunette in the turquoise leotard.” The bright color had the unfortunate effect of emphasizing Julia’s less flattering features. But it was a pretty color. Eye-catching.

Duncan leaned forward, giving every evidence of being riveted by the spectacle. If he’d been the kind of person who would find it amusingly pathetic, she would have understood the smile on his face, but Duncan didn’t have a cruel or malicious bone in his body, so it wasn’t snark. She didn’t quite understand what it was. He didn’t even know any of the participants.

“She’s doing rather well,” Rilka remarked. Julia seemed absorbed in her movements, enjoying her moment in the spotlight, her face happy, her whole figure transported with the joy of dancing, even if she wasn’t technically proficient.

“Hush,” Duncan said firmly. Another side of the man Rilka had not experienced before. She subsided into her seat, watching Duncan’s pensive profile as he stared at the dancers. Well, not
the dancers
. He was staring at Julia.

When the dancers came out to take their bows, Duncan grabbed Rilka’s bouquet of flowers and marched toward the stage.

“Oh dear,” Rilka said out loud, darting after him. Duncan might do anything if left unattended. He threw the bouquet at Julia’s feet, which was perhaps slightly overdramatic but at least it wasn’t actually wrong-headed, dangerous, or rude. “Brava!” he said, clapping madly. “You danced so beautifully! You moved me.”

Julia bent to take the flowers, her movements uncertain. She glanced at Rilka, who shrugged.

“They should have been roses,” Duncan said.

Then Julia extended her hand, regal as a prima donna, and Duncan reached up to kiss it.

“Oh dear,” Rilka said again.

• • •

“She was beautiful,” Duncan said again, pacing in the hallway near the backstage door as Julia and the other dancers changed from their recital costumes into their street clothes. “Did you see the passion on her face? She was so alive, so happy.”

“Uh-huh,” Rilka said. She looked at his excited face, her heart sinking. What did he see in Julia? And what did he think Julia would see in him? It would be no different from any of the dates that had come before. He would be hurt again. And Julia had given up dating; she’d told Rilka herself that it was too hard on the ego. She wasn’t likely to be very receptive to him.

He straightened his suit jacket and fixed the cuffs of his sleeves.

“Is my tie straight?” he asked for the tenth time.

“You look fine,” Rilka said. That wasn’t going to be the problem. That was never going to be the problem with Duncan.

But Duncan wasn’t listening. He’d caught sight of Julia, walking down the hallway; it seemed he had spotted her, like a predator scenting prey. Maybe she should run that in her advertising. Rilka’s Matchmaking: Where Predator Meets Prey.

She sighed as Duncan stared at Julia, spellbound, as she approached.

Julia smiled shyly at Duncan. Rilka’s heart sank lower. When had Julia ever smiled shyly at anyone? The moment Duncan opened his mouth, Julia would be rushing for the nearest exit.

“Julia, this is Duncan. Duncan, this is Julia,” Rilka said. Did they even hear her? Julia clutched the bouquet in her left hand and stared at Duncan, just as spellbound as he.

It’ll wear off
, Rilka thought, glancing at her watch.
In about one hundred twenty seconds.

Duncan lifted Julia’s free hand to his lips again. The gesture seemed affected to Rilka but Julia didn’t seem to share her sentiments.

“You were lovely. A flower,” he said. “A flower just blossoming. Blooming late but all the more beautiful for it.”

Banal and trite, Rilka thought critically, but a heartbreaking smile transformed Julia’s face.

No, no, no,
Rilka thought. A mother must feel like this when her toddler staggers towards the flames.

“Where has Rilka been hiding you all this time?” Julia asked, linking her arm with Duncan’s. “Keeping you for herself?”

Flirting?
Rilka’s brain couldn’t process Julia flirting with a male supermodel. Her heart thudded in her chest.

“Oh, Rilka thinks I’m dull and boring.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Julia said.

“Actually, it is,” Rilka said. She might as well surrender to the inevitable. In the morning there would be tears and recriminations, but it wasn’t morning yet. Was it wrong to let them have one magic night? “If you’d be willing to take him off my hands for the evening, it would be a tremendous favor to me.”

Oh dear
, she thought, when both turned beaming smiles at her.

• • •

“He’s a real gentleman,” Hilda said, unfurling her napkin and placing it in her lap.

Rilka tried to listen despite the pounding headache that made Hilda’s voice grate even more than usual. She’d tossed and turned all night, worried about what to say when Duncan called over the moon about Julia, desperate to hear what she thought of him. And Rilka would have to dutifully call Julia, and hear her scornful take on Duncan, and Rilka would have to relay the devastating news to him.
Tell me the truth
, he would say. Maybe she’d call up his administrative assistant first, let her know that bad news was coming —

“Very considerate and charming, especially for someone his age.”

“Wait a minute,” Rilka said, her fork pausing over her eggs Benedict. She’d suggested brunch out because if she spent any more time in her kitchen she was going to go mad. And she should have suspected something was up when Hilda agreed so readily. “I don’t follow. Who are we talking about?”

“The new lab assistant,” Hilda said benevolently. Benevolence was so unlike Hilda that Rilka could only gape at her.

“So he’s a younger man.” Rilka had grasped that much. A work romance? Pity the poor kid if he made a pass at Hilda. He’d be charged with sexual harassment in twelve seconds.

“So I took him under my wing. He was so grateful. You know, starting a new job can be so difficult.”