Searching for Someday (2 page)

Read Searching for Someday Online

Authors: Jennifer Probst

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Contemporary Women, #General

BOOK: Searching for Someday
9.94Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

She never found it. Bruised from the consistent disappointments, she wondered if maybe giving up on the dream of finding her match would serve her better. Maybe, just maybe, there wasn’t a man or woman meant for everyone. Maybe, just maybe, she was meant to be alone.

She fought the sudden urge to cry and wallow in a self-pity party. She was done. If she went on one more disappointing date, she didn’t think she’d recover. The hell with love. She’d buy a new book, go home to Robert, and snuggle under a blanket.

Kate paused in front of the used-book store. Time for a change. No more dating. No more chasing love. She’d concentrate on her business, her friends, and doing things that made her happy.

With her head up and her new resolution firm, she stepped inside, and the bell tinkled. Scents swarmed around her in wonderful familiarity. Leather. Paper. Mothballs. Perfection.

She crossed the worn carpet and stopped in front of the marked and battered front desk. “Got anything for me, Hector?”

The boy behind the counter was reed thin, with a smattering of pimples and spiked purple hair. Hector shook his head with a grin. “Been waiting for you, Kate. I’m holding a new box of used books in the back. I had no time to sort them yet, so you may not find anything.”

She shivered with the lure of the unknown. Would she
ever get tired of ripping open a new box of books and sifting through the treasures? “No worries. I’ll go through them if that’s okay?”

The teen motioned toward the back of the store. “Help yourself. It’ll save me some work.”

“Thanks.” Kate walked down the deserted aisle and into the storeroom. The cramped space held an array of boxes, file cabinets, and papers in an extremely unorganized fashion. The new shipment was clearly marked, though, so she pulled it down from the pile and ripped it open with her own hands, rather than with the box cutter. She’d never be able to keep a perfect manicure anyway.

Kate sat cross-legged on the cold concrete floor and pulled them out one by one. Romance. Biography. Some dieting. She kept to the side a few that she wanted to try, then found a great one on love signs that seemed several years out of date. Hmm, you never knew what you’d glean from the eighties. Could be helpful. She added it to her growing stack. An interesting book on how males relate to dogs. Definitely couldn’t pass that one up. And then—

Her fingers closed on a fabric-covered book and she pulled it out. Bright violet assaulted her vision.
The Book of Spells
. Simple title. Small, square, not a novel but more of a how-to book? She cracked the binding a bit and glanced through the first page.

A low hum vibrated to the tips of her fingers. Her belly wobbled, as if she’d just seen a hot male prospect rather
than a simple book. The hum grew stronger as she flipped through, making notes of an ancient love spell and a chant to Earth Mother. Fascinating. She’d never seen anything like it; there wasn’t even an author noted. How was that possible?

Definitely a keeper. Maybe something fun for her clientele.

Kate dropped the book on her pile.

A crackle of electricity shot through her body like a wet plug in an outlet. She yelped and yanked back, staring at the purple cover. What the hell was that? Maybe the fabric gave some type of shock. But damn, that hurt.

“Need any help back there?”

Hector’s voice echoed through the store. Shaking her head, she pushed to her feet and set the box back. Careful not to touch the purple book, she scooped up her treasure pile and made her way out of the storeroom.

“Got everything I need. Hector, I took six books. Charge it to my account, please!”

“You got it. Have a good one.”

Feeling a bit better over her new purchases, Kate headed toward her car and the typical Saturday night with her books and her dog.

Good-bye, number one hundred. That date belonged in the record book of disasters.

It was going to be a long time before she had the stamina to even think about one hundred and one.

one

I
’M MOVING OUT.

Slade watched his sister drag her oversized floral pieces of luggage down the hallway and drop them at the front door. A strange panic roared through his system, but he stood frozen in the foyer, watching the scene unfold. Hell, no. She wasn’t ready to go anywhere on her own yet, but somehow he needed to convince her without looking like a crazed control-freak brother. He kept his voice gentle and firm.

“Jane, I don’t think it’s a good idea. I know you want a place of your own, but I don’t think you’re ready. Besides, I’ll get lonely by myself. Give it some time, and I’ll help you find an apartment.”

Jane turned fast, hands on hips, that furious female scowl he knew well. Bottom line, he’d screwed up his words again. “First off, give me a little credit. I’m ready. I appreciate you letting me live here, but I should’ve moved out a year ago. And the only reason you’re lonely is your refusal to stay with a woman past one night.”

Slade winced. Unfair. He was always discreet when it came to women, not needing his sister to try to bond with
any of them, since long-term commitment was doomed from the start. The statistics alone of marriage breakups caused a shudder.

She marched into the open living room and headed toward the bookcase to grab a few off the shelves. Crap, was that
The Chew
’s new cookbook? He hadn’t even looked at the pictures yet. “Be reasonable, Jane. You have nowhere to go, and I don’t want you staying at a crappy studio in Manhattan. It’ll cost a million dollars and won’t be safe. Are you still upset over your breakup? We can go slash his tires, get drunk, and watch chick flick movies. That’s what women do, right?”

Jane tipped her head back and laughed. “God, Slade, if I didn’t love you so much I’d murder you. I have a place already. I rented an apartment in Verily on the river. I quit my job and lined up a new one at the local community college there.”

The room spun. He stared at his normally shy, logical, steady sister and wondered what she’d drunk to turn into Mr. Hyde. “Quit your job? You were working on tenure!”

“And I hated it there. Stuffy, pompous, and boring. I hate Manhattan, too. It’s crowded and hurts my head most of the time.” Jane dragged in a breath and walked over, stuffing the books into her tote bag. Her long jet-black hair sprung into a whirlwind of curls, and her cocoa-brown eyes peered at him sadly from behind thick black glasses. “I can’t do this anymore,” she said. “I need a fresh start on my
own terms. Verily is small and quaint, and the college focuses on using creativity in literature. I can grow there. Maybe meet a man who won’t wring me dry and dump me.” Her laugh was totally wry, and Slade’s heart squeezed in sheer fear.

He couldn’t let her go. If something happened, it would be his fault. Again. At least if she were under his roof, he could easily gauge if she was down-spiraling. Slade swung into lawyer mode. Being one of the top divorce lawyers in the state had to be good for something other than money. “I understand you want to be on your own. I agree it’s time, but quitting your job and running off to a town you don’t know is dangerous. I’ll go with you to Verily this weekend. I’ll help you look, maybe meet some people there so you’re not alone, and we’ll figure it out together.”

Her voice rose to a dangerous level. “I don’t want to figure it out together! I want to figure things out myself. Oh, for God’s sake, look at this place.” She flung out her arm and gestured to his expensive loft apartment situated in the coveted location of Tribeca. The huge open space was split into two levels with a sleek glass staircase connecting them together. Windows lined the walls and overlooked the city of Manhattan. Pricey art, bamboo floors, edgy glass tables, granite counters, and huge leather recliners completed the look of bachelor in the city.

“What’s wrong with it? We have plenty of room here.”

“This is your place! I haven’t had anything for myself in
the past three years. I’m twenty-eight years old. It’s time I do things on my terms without anyone worrying if I’m going to emotionally lose it when something goes wrong.”

He winced. Jane was extremely sensitive and had always struggled in such a brutal society. He watched a long line of men crush her like a gentle flower under their heels until there was nothing left but a few stray petals. He’d sworn never to let anyone hurt her again. He had to make her stay.

“Sweetheart, I know you’re much stronger now. Don’t ever think I’m waiting for you to implode. I just think it would be better to wait.”

“I don’t.” Jane opened the closet door, grabbed her black wool coat, and stuffed her arms into the sleeves. “When I get settled, you can bring the rest of my stuff and visit. I think you’ll like it in Verily. And I won’t be lonely for long. I’ve decided to sign up with a matchmaking agency.”

Yep. She’d definitely slugged the Mr. Hyde punch. “Are you kidding me? Do you know how many of those get closed down for fraud? There’s no such thing as the perfect match, and you know it. What is going on with you?”

She stuck her chin out. “I’m tired of being afraid and meeting the wrong men. Kinnections is a well-respected company. I like the women I met there, and I trust them. So don’t worry about me holing up in my apartment and getting depressed. I’m going out there and meeting people. I’m different this time.”

“This place is going to take your money and give you false expectations. What if it doesn’t work out and you crash? I’m not going to stand around helplessly while you’re destroyed again by some ruthless people out for your money.”

She let out an outraged squeal. “Are you listening to yourself? God, stop protecting me. I’m a different person than I was three years ago and you’re stifling me! Mom and Dad wouldn’t want me to live tucked away in your man cave while I watch life happen to other people.”

“Mom and Dad never found you on a bathroom floor overdosed on pills. Mom and Dad didn’t hold you in their arms, praying you wouldn’t die!”

The silence shattered around them. Slade closed his eyes briefly, grief cutting out pieces of him. The words entwined with a blame and a plea that twisted his stomach. The memory of finding her suicide attempt changed him. He wanted her safe. Couldn’t she understand?

His voice broke. “I’m so sorry, Jane. I didn’t mean to bring that up.”

Hurt carved out the lines of her face, and her lower lip trembled. “Yes. You did. I’m sorry I put you through that. But I’m not the same person anymore. I deserve happiness and I’m going to take it. Yes, I may get hurt along the way, but I can handle it now, Slade. I’m stronger.” She tossed her tote over her shoulder and grabbed the handle of her suitcase. “I don’t blame you for not
trusting me. But I’m going to prove myself. You’re not responsible for me any longer.”

“For God’s sake, let me help you. I’ll buy you dinner and we’ll talk more about this.”

She threw open the door. “No. The doorman is meeting me downstairs.”

“But I need a number, an address, something.”

“I’ll call when I get settled. Love you.”

She left. This time, he didn’t stop her. Part of him recognized it was important she carve her own way. The other half decided he’d rip apart anything that tried to hurt her. Or anyone.

With a low curse, he stalked to his computer and typed in the words.

Kinnections. Matchmaking. Verily
.

He stared at the screen for a while and made his decision.

two

S
LADE STOPPED IN
front of the glass door of Kinnections and took in the festive white lights and artistic sign. Scrolled in purple and silver, it promised passersby a “happy ever after” rolled up in excitement, hope, and mystery.

Temper snapped his jaw up like a well-trained karate kick. A bunch of con artists selling dreams that didn’t exist. To him, it was worse than those emails promising a cut of a million dollars for a small standard fee. Worse than identity theft. In his estimation, the true evil lay not in stealing money, or goods, or even services. No, this was theft of the heart—a blatant lie to the lonely and broken to heal them with a ghost image of the perfect man or woman.

He wouldn’t allow such scum to tear his sister apart.

Slade pushed open the door and strode in.

The woman at the main desk seemed surprised to see a client, as if the cheery bell warning her of his entrance hadn’t worked. His gaze dismissed her as the receptionist, but he refused to waste his time moving up the chain. He switched into his lawyer voice that brooked no refusal. “I’d like to see the manager, please.”

One brow arched. Yes, she was perfect for the first appearance of a matchmaking agency. Her hair was magnificent, so blond it was almost white, hanging past her shoulders in pin-straight strands that shimmered like corn silk. Her wide blue eyes assessed him with a thoughtful air, as if deciding whether or not to call her boss. Not a deep blue like the ocean, but more of a cornflower, so light her features seemed to blur in a type of angelic radiance. He shook himself out of his trance and wondered what the hell he was doing thinking in corn terms about a woman he didn’t intend to have a conversation with.

“Can I ask what this is about?”

Smooth and mellow, her voice teased his ears like a wisp of smoke before vanishing. He wanted to hear more, but the whole meeting was beginning to freak him out. He cleared his throat and looked over his gold-rimmed glasses. “None of your concern,” he clipped out. “Please get me your manager.”

She crossed her arms in front of her and studied him with a thoughtful air. “If this is regarding a client, we won’t be able to give you any information. We adhere to confidentiality agreements.”

He snorted. “Convenient way to try to avoid lawsuits, huh?”

“Having a bad day, sir?”

Was he amusing her? He drew himself to full height and leaned over her desk. His court presence was well known to be deadly, but this slip of a woman dared mock
him? “Now I am. I’m sure it will get better once I speak with your boss.”

“Okay. Go ahead.”

He let out a short breath. “Can you please get her?”

Other books

The Last Good Day by Peter Blauner
Fives and Twenty-Fives by Pitre, Michael
Trickery by Noire
It Had to Be You by Susan Elizabeth Phillips
Not His Type by Crane, Lisa
Wolf Tongue by Barry MacSweeney
Deceiving The Groom by Shadow, Lisa
Bottom Feeder by Deborah LeBlanc