Perfect Match

“Thanks. Whom should I say referred him?”

He winked. “Rumpelstiltskin. Call me Rum for short.”

Hannah shook her head. “You’re impossible.” She paused. “Wait. What do you think my name is?”

He hesitated and then suddenly looked sheepish. “I don’t remember your name, just your face.”

Hannah laughed. “Perhaps I have a twin somewhere.” She glanced down at his hand. “Your ice cream is melting.”

He looked down and saw the vanilla ice cream leaking from the bottom of his cone onto his hand. He sucked the bottom of the cone until all the ice cream was finished. “There, that’s better.”

“There’s still ice cream on your hand.”

“I don’t have any napkins.”

“Just lick it off.”

“Sure.” He raised a sly brow. “Want to help me?”

Definitely. She felt her face grow warm. She could imagine licking, sucking, teasing and anything else he asked of her. She bet he tasted sweet, too. She remembered watching the sight of his pink tongue against the chocolate-covered vanilla cone, and just for one wild moment she imagined that chocolate was her skin melting under the warm assault of his tongue. She brushed the thought aside, the day suddenly feeling hotter than it really was. “I still don’t know your real name.”

“You’ll remember it soon.”

“Even though you don’t remember mine?” she countered.

“At least I remember your face. Your name will come back to me eventually. Of course, you could give me a hint.”

Hannah shook her head. “You first. Where did we meet?”

His phone buzzed insistently, as if the caller demanded a response.

“Saved by the bell,” she teased, and then she saw an expression of frustration and guilt cross his face. “You really should answer that,” Hannah said, seeing his jaw twitch in annoyance. “I’m fine now...really. Thanks for everything.”

He glanced at the number and then put the phone away. “I didn’t do anything.” He lifted her chin with his forefinger. “Keep your chin up.” He smiled and then started to walk away.

“Wait. At least tell me your name. What is it?”

He bent down and plucked a buttercup and handed it to her. “You already know it. Just say my name four times and I’ll come.”

“That’s not how the story goes.”

“That’s how our story will.” His mouth spread into a smile that was as intimate as a kiss, and then he turned and walked away.

Hannah watched him go, holding the flower close to her chest, wishing she could hold on to him instead.

* * *

“And you didn’t get his name?” Hannah’s assistant, Bonnie Li, said in disbelief. They sat in Hannah’s new office, which was still not completely furnished but serviceable. At least the front receptionist’s area looked impressive. She’d had a stroke of luck because one of the tenants in the building where their office was located had just been evicted. They had left behind several pieces of furniture and lamps, which she and Bonnie had eagerly snatched.

The two women had met in college and become fast friends. Like Hannah, Bonnie hadn’t lived up to her parents’ expectations, either. Small and lithe, she’d trained to be a dancer until a torn ligament ended that dream. Bonnie had a mind to go into sports medicine, which was a profession frowned upon in her Chinese family of three doctors and two university professors. But she’d jumped on board with Hannah despite the low pay, discovering a love for organization and helping people. She looked young for her age of thirty, but she dressed up to appear older. After reading several books on how to make over oneself, she had cut her waist-length black hair short and colored it a striking reddish-brown. She had lovely almond-shaped brown eyes and an attractive slender figure. But there was nothing delicate about her—she liked dirty jokes and the occasional Jack Daniel’s. Bonnie pointed at her friend. “What is wrong with you?”

Hannah threw up her hands, helpless. “At first I thought he was crazy. I mean, I looked a mess and he was going on as if he was so happy to see me.”

“Tell me how good-looking he was again.”

“I’ve already told you twice.”

“Tell me again.”

“No, there’s no point. I’ll probably never see him again.”

“Maybe he’ll call you.”

“He couldn’t remember my name, either.”

“Maybe he was teasing you.”

“Perhaps,” Hannah said, doubtful. “But he definitely made my day brighter, especially after my call from Abigail.”

Bonnie feigned a shiver of fear. “So, how is the queen of horror?”

Hannah laughed at her friend’s description. “She’s not that bad.”

“No, she’s worse. In a horror film she’d be the monster.”

“Well, right now she’s preparing to be homeless.”

“And it’s all your fault,” Bonnie said, mimicking Abigail’s tone.

Hannah nodded, her spirit dimming. “Yes.”

“Does she have a reason to really worry this time?”

Hannah sighed. “Unfortunately, yes. It’s really looking bad, but I have another option I’m going to try. The guy I met in the park gave me the phone number for another contractor to try. Maybe he can give us a lower estimate.”

“It’s a start. I hope you get to see him again,” Bonnie said, returning to what she was doing.

“Me, too,” Hannah said in a soft tone.

* * *

“Where have you been?” Hector Ramirez demanded when Amal stepped into his office. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”

Amal walked past him. “I was busy.”

Hector followed him and then paused and studied him with a knowing look. “You met a woman, didn’t you?”

Amal shook his head and sat. “It wasn’t like that.” Hector was a man of thirty-seven with dark eyes and prematurely gray hair that gave him a distinguished look despite his boyish features. Amal liked him, trusted him and rarely kept anything from him. But this time was different.

“I knew it would be a woman.”

Amal didn’t care what he thought. He wasn’t in the mood to discuss it with him. Hector was his trusted friend, but somehow the meeting in the park was something Amal wanted to keep to himself. There was something special about it. He just wasn’t sure what yet.

“What line did you use with her?” Hector asked with a smug grin. “How pretty is she? Wait, don’t answer—with you they’re always gorgeous. Was she a model? An actress? A nurse?”

“No.”

“Did you just get her name and phone number, or did you get her address, too?”

“What did you want to tell me?”

Hector paused, flabbergasted that his questions had been ignored. That wasn’t typical of Amal. “What? You’re not going to tell me about your latest conquest?”

Amal sat back in his chair, keeping his expression neutral. “I told you it wasn’t like that.” He held up his hand before Hector could speak. “What’s the news?”

Hector sighed. “You’re serious? You’re not going to tell me anything about this woman?”

Amal slowly blinked and waited.

Hector loosened his tie. Amal was a fun and easygoing guy when he wanted to be, but he could also be a hard SOB when the mood struck him—such as at this moment. He sat and bounced his leg up and down, trying to control his pent-up anxiety and gather the courage to tell him what he knew Amal didn’t want to hear. “It’s bad.”

Amal blinked again, his gaze narrowing slightly.

Hector cleared his throat. His tie was loose, but it still felt as though it threatened to strangle him. “The thing is I—”

“Just tell it to me straight,” Amal said, his tone too quiet to be natural.

“The Brenton Law Firm said no.”

“I see.”

Hector stared at him for a long moment. “That’s it? ‘I see’? What’s wrong with you? It’s not like you to be this calm. Are you still thinking about that woman? At least tell me her name in case she calls.”

“She’s not going to call. Who else is there we can hire?”

“No one.”

Amal began to tap a beat on his desk, holding on to his temper. “What do you mean ‘no one’?” He wasn’t going to let them win. He couldn’t. The Walkers wanted to take away everything he’d built with Jade Walker, his former girlfriend. Their business, The Eye of Jade, an art import/export business, had been a success, but unfortunately their relationship had not. He hadn’t realized how unstable she was in the beginning. He’d taken her mood swings as part of her vibrant personality and quick mind, although soon her addiction to painkillers following a series of surgeries for a back injury she’d suffered while skiing got out of control. He’d stood by her as she tried rehab after rehab, but nothing helped.

Finally, he had to break free, but it had been hard to leave her. Amal remembered the day they met. He had attended a local fund-raiser for the Raleigh Philharmonic Orchestra’s mentoring program that provided musical scholarships to underserved youth in North Carolina. As part of his philanthropic work, Amal donated to several causes and was used to attending these types of functions. On this particular afternoon, he was struck by the striking woman who caught his eye. Now she was dead from an overdose, sixteen months after their breakup. He’d read about it in the papers. It was ruled a suicide, and the Walkers blamed him and wanted him to pay for their loss. But he wasn’t going to let them steal away their business. They claimed that the collection of art found in Jade’s private storage unit was hers and did not belong to the business. Unfortunately, the last shipment of art she had purchased abroad had been sent to her private storage instead of the company’s warehouse, where they usually stored items. This arrangement had been an exception to their normal protocol because Jade had wanted to have pictures taken of the items prior to having them shipped off to the gallery where they were to be displayed.

Unfortunately for Amal, nothing had been put in writing to explain this arrangement, and the Walkers had taken legal action banning him from taking what he believed was his. The gallery owner in New Mexico, where the show was to be held, and the artist, an up-and-coming sculptor, were both threatening to sue. He needed to go to court to refute the Walkers’ claim if he didn’t want to lose everything.

Hector shifted, uneasy with Amal’s silence. “We’ve gone through twenty law firms and no one will take your case.”

Amal started tapping two fingers. “Someone will. Keep digging.”

“You want someone ethical, right?”

Amal tapped faster. “I want someone who will win.”

Hector swallowed. “All the lawyers in this city know it’s career suicide to go up against the Walkers.”

“Did you tell them how much I’d pay?”

“They’re not interested.”

Amal flattened his palm on the desk, his voice low. “Find someone who is.”

Chapter 3

At home, Hannah turned on the TV and then glanced at the bouquet of flowers from Jacob sitting on the dining table. When she pulled out her wallet and a crushed flower floated to the floor, she smiled and picked it up. It was the buttercup that the stranger had given her. Its yellow blossom seemed more beautiful than all the flowers in Jacob’s bouquet. It made her feel as if she wasn’t alone. She took the flower and gently placed it in a page in her journal that she kept nearby. She’d always remember him.

That night Hannah dreamed. She didn’t dream about winning the lottery and saving her parents’ house or finally convincing Jacob that he was better off without her, or finding a way to get along with her sister. No, she dreamed about him. The Stranger. She’d tried to come up with a name for him, but nothing seemed to suit him. Paul seemed too pedantic. Armando too exotic. So to her he was just The Stranger. The Handsome Stranger, that aspect of him she couldn’t refute—those captivating brown eyes and beautifully etched features.

She imagined walking and talking with him in the park again.

Hannah dreamed about him the next night, too, and the one after that, each time her dreams becoming more detailed and more intimate. Dreams were safe, and she couldn’t get hurt. Soon she no longer met him in the park, but for dinner and then she was in his arms. There she always felt safe. Cared for. It was nice to have someone to lean on. And he always said the right thing, encouraging her as he had in the past. Lifting her up. Making her feel like a success when only seconds before she’d felt like a failure. She remembered the feel of her hand in his, the touch of his hand on her skin. She imagined it on her arm, caressing her face, sliding down her body.

She hadn’t noticed a ring, but a guy like that wouldn’t be single. Even if he was...with her luck she’d likely never meet him again. A week later she went back to the park on the same day they’d met, hoping it was a habit of his to be there. She waited two hours on the same park bench with no luck. She felt foolish knowing that part of her wanted to see him so that her dreams could stop and she could face the reality of him. Still, a part of her liked him just being her dream man. Relationships weren’t her specialty anyway, and not seeing him again was probably for the best.

* * *

Across town Amal was also thinking about her, but not in the same way or for the same reason. She came into his mind quite unexpectedly as he tried to gently break up with his present girlfriend, Evie, who’d convinced herself that they were destined to be married. There had been signs early in their relationship. After the first date, she’d already started talking about marriage, babies and how “Mrs. Evie Harper” would look great on personalized stationery and matching towels.

They hadn’t been dating long. Unfortunately, Amal hadn’t realized that it was a rebound relationship to help him forget about Jade. He did not love Evie and did not want to lead her on much longer.

“What do you mean I’m too good for you?” she demanded, tears streaming down her face, her nose red. Clearly, her makeup wasn’t waterproof, because two black streaks stained her cheeks. She was still a beautiful woman with hazel eyes and curly short hair who was a magician at event planning and worked for a company that organized national conventions held in Raleigh.

Amal quickly glanced around, aware of heads turning, sending him curious and judging glances. He’d thought that by taking her to a restaurant it would stop her from creating a scene. He’d guessed wrong. “Just that,” he said, keeping his voice soft and measured, “I’m not ready to settle down. I told you that.”

Evie dabbed at her eyes, smudging her makeup more and making her look as if she had a black eye. “I thought I could change your mind.”

“I’m no good for you.”

“You’re perfect for me. I knew I’d lose a guy like you. You can get any woman you want. Is there someone else?”

“No.”

“Then just give me another chance.”

“It’s not going to work.” Amal tried to get the waitress’s attention, but she was busy checking out her lipstick in the reflection of a spoon.

“I love you, Amal.”

“You hardly know me.”

“I know you enough.”

Amal glanced up again, wanting to throw a bread roll or something at the absentminded waitress so that he could pay the check and leave. He stopped another passing waiter. “I want to pay my bill.”

The waiter glanced at Evie, concerned. “Is everything all right?”

“My life is over,” Evie whined.

Amal gritted his teeth. “The food was so delicious, it made her cry. Now, I’d like my bill, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re angry with me,” Evie said.

Amal drummed his fingers on his thigh. “No, I’m not.”

“I can always tell when you’re angry. Your eyes narrow and your jaw twitches.”

Amal counted to ten.

“I hate when you’re angry with me,” she said and then burst into tears.

Amal silently swore, wishing he’d gotten a private booth instead of just a table. He moved his chair closer and pulled her near his side to hold her. He didn’t care what those around him were thinking. Let everyone stare. Most already were. “It’s okay.” He hated to see a woman cry. And that’s when his mind floated to the woman who’d been crying alone, sitting on the park bench. For some reason her tears and misery bothered him more than Evie’s. Maybe because with Evie, he was relieved at finally letting her know there was no chance of them being together, or the fact that he knew she’d get over him quickly.

The woman in the park smelled sweet and there was a heaviness he understood. She didn’t seem like the type to normally cry in public, although he could be wrong. But he’d felt helpless and had come up with the story that he knew her just to make her feel better. He was happy he’d been able to make her smile. He wondered how she was doing and if she’d been able to save her parents’ house.

“Amal?”

He blinked and glanced down. He’d totally forgotten about Evie even though she was wetting his shirt with tears. “Huh?”

“Did you even hear a word I said? Don’t you care about me at all?”

“Of course I do. But this is for the best.” He glanced at his watch. It was time to go. Besides, he was hoping to drop her off before the evening news started. And he’d make sure to never come to this restaurant again.

* * *

“How did it go?” his mother, Doreen Harper, asked the moment he walked through the door. She sat on the couch holding a glass. A plate of cookies sat on the coffee table. She noticed his pointed look and smiled. “Relax. It’s just water, dear.”

“Mixed with what?”

“Nothing.”

“Hmm.”

“And I’m not using it to wash anything down, either.”

Amal was relieved but didn’t say so. His mother lived with him because he didn’t trust her on her own. She’d overcome an addiction to prescription pills, but was still susceptible to drinking more than she could handle and men attracted only to her money. She even looked like an easy target, with wide brown eyes, a petite build, easy smile and expensive clothing and jewelry. “I don’t wear paste,” she claimed when he’d once scolded her for wearing a ten-thousand-dollar necklace on a Manhattan subway. She’d been pampered and sheltered all her life until her husband decided to leave her with a small son. She always had money, but never had to manage it on her own.

At age ten, Amal became in charge of the household finances, stopping anyone, from the gardener to the chef, from robbing his mother blind. She’d gotten into prescription pills to deal with the stress of her divorce. Thankfully, she’d conquered it by the time he was in college. But four years ago when a pool maintenance guy had convinced her to marry him, which did not happen thanks to Amal’s swift intervention, she had gone back to drinking. Amal had to step in again to keep an eye on her. Luckily, his then-girlfriend, Jade, hadn’t minded. He knew he couldn’t have her close by forever, but Amal had the space and didn’t mind the company, especially when everything else seemed to be going against him.

Doreen took a sip of her water and then set it down. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“How do you think it went?”

“From the look on your face, not well.”

Amal sat on the couch in front of her and then took a cookie from her plate. “She thought we were going to get married.”

“And of course you’re never going to get married.”

“I’ve never said that.”

“You don’t have to. If she’d had half a brain, she would have seen it written all over your face. Didn’t I tell you that you should have married Jade when you had the chance? Then you wouldn’t be in this mess. Marriage makes things legal.”

Amal rested his head back and gazed up at the ceiling. “Thirty-two.”

“What?”

He sat up and stared at her. “That’s the number of times you’ve said ‘I told you so’ over the past year.”

Doreen set her glass down with regret. “I’m sorry. I just hate seeing you keep making these mistakes. I told you Evie was no good.”

“Yes.”

“And that she was desperate.”

Amal drummed his fingers on his thigh. “I know.”

“And that pathetic woman before her. I said she was only after your money.”

He sighed and drummed faster. “I know.”

“Since Jade, your taste in women has taken a dive.”

Amal stopped drumming and shook his head. “No, not my taste. Just my luck. Don’t worry. I’m not interested in another relationship. I’m through with women for now.”

Doreen started to laugh.

“You think that’s funny?”

“I think that’s impossible. The moment you started nursing I knew you were straight.”

Amal squeezed his eyes shut, embarrassed. “Mom!”

“It’s true. You’ve always loved women and everything about them.”

“From now on I promise I’ll enjoy them from afar.” He pointed at her. “Stop laughing. I’m serious.”

“You’re trying to be, but it’s not working.”

“I mean it. My only focus is winning this case against the Walkers. Until it’s through I’m off the market.”

“Unless she has the right dimensions,” Doreen said, cupping the air.

“Don’t be crass. You’re my mother.”

“Grow up. I’m also a woman who knows how men think,” Doreen said with a smirk. “Especially you, my dear boy. I know all your weak spots.”

Yes, he had weak spots, and one of them had been Jade. He’d made mistakes, but he wouldn’t let the Walkers exploit them. What his mother hadn’t realized was how much winning meant to him, and no woman would stand in his way. “I’m not going to let the Walkers take away everything Jade and I built together. She wouldn’t want that.”

“So you’ve finally found a lawyer?”

“I will.”

Doreen picked her up her glass and finished its contents as if it were a lot stronger than water. “I’ve asked around and no one is interested. I’m not sure you can win this with your inventory tied up. The Walkers are going to play hardball. It’s going to cost you a lot of money. I can take care of you until you get back on your feet.”

“No way. I’m not having you bail me out of this. I’m going to win. I’m offering a lot of money. I’ll find someone who will bite.”

* * *

Hannah looked at the prices on the menu and winced. The only things within her budget were the water and breadsticks. She knew the price didn’t cover just the cost of the food, but also the ambience and the waterfront view. She glanced up at her two friends, glad that they were focused on their orders so she had more time to decide what to do. Dana Wentworth had a name that hinted at white Anglo-Saxon Protestant breeding and generations of wealth, but she was born in Queens to a Jewish deli owner and his Catholic Italian wife. She had olive-toned skin, dark green eyes and a full figure that she always dressed well. She’d worked her way from New York City into the suburbs of North Carolina, although none of her family could understand her interest in living in the South. She’d made a nice life as a corporate lawyer in a prestigious firm. Natasha Petrov was a Russian immigrant whose poor parents had sent her to live with wealthy relatives in Missouri, who had adopted her as their own. Blonde and slender, she’d married a wealthy man, so price was never an issue. Although she didn’t need the money, she worked part-time in family law. They’d remained friends after law school, although their lives had taken divergent paths. Hannah wondered if she’d be able to meet with them anymore.

“The salmon salad looks delicious,” Dana said.

Natasha shook her head. “No, I think I’ll have the chicken primavera.”

“What about you, Hannah?”

“Oh, I’ll just have tea and um...”

“The risotto.”

“No, I—”

“You’ll love it,” Natasha said. “Trust me. I had it here before,” she said with a quick flick of her wrist, the light catching her large diamond wedding ring.

Hannah only smiled, imagining twenty bucks she was going to use to pay an overdue bill bursting into flames.

The food arrived and the three friends discussed different topics, including Natasha’s recent visit to Russia, Dana’s work woes and Hannah’s family troubles, although she didn’t reveal too much.

“Oh,” Dana said. “You won’t believe what news has been circulating in the legal gossip chain. Some crazy playboy is in an estate battle with the Wild Walkers.”