Peter sent me a text before I made it home. Madelyn. I’ve made my choice. Can we meet to discuss?
I responded, assuming he’d propose a meeting later in the week, but he suggested that afternoon.
Should I come out to your place? I typed. It was Saturday, after all.
I’m still in Boston. Can you meet me at my office? Say 3 PM?
I wanted to run and hide. I’d given Peter three candidates, he’d chosen one, and now, I was going to have to live with the consequences.
Danny, the security guard, gave me a visitor’s badge and let me through.
As the elevator whooshed upward, I realized I was getting used to the rush.
The car halted, and I stepped into the reception area. The space was quiet and a floral scent from the arrangement of spring flowers on the front desk greeted me.
I pushed open the etched glass doors into the waiting room. His office door stood ajar. “Peter?”
He appeared behind me, carrying a tray with a jug and two glasses. “Would you like some tea?”
It was three o’clock. Tea time. How predictably British. Though at home, we tended to drink tea hot.
“I’d love a glass,” I said, and wondered if it were too early for wine.
Peter closed the door while I poured the tea.
“Don’t you drink it hot?” I asked, handing him a glass.
“Not anymore.” He lifted the beverage. “This is cold-brewed.”
We settled in my favorite chairs with their perfect view of the city.
Fluffy clouds drifted across the glass, thick enough to obscure the panorama and darken the office as they shielded us. Their effect on my emotions made the room seem ominous.
Ugh, I didn’t want to go there. “So, you’ve made a choice.” I tried to sound optimistic.
He took a sip of his tea. “It wasn’t difficult.”
His response made my stomach sink. Last night, his enthusiasm for the three women had seemed mediocre at best.
My bets were on Barbara, and yet, she seemed too old for Peter. All of them did.
Wishful thinking that he’d want someone younger, someone like me.
I couldn’t let this happen, so I got ready to step in front of the high-speed train. Did I have a hope of stopping it?
If Peter named his choice, I’d be obligated to accept him as a client and introduce them.
“Before you tell me, I was wondering…” I swallowed. “If I could introduce another candidate.”
He frowned, and my heart dropped.
Tugging back my shoulders, I said, “She might be the perfect match, and…I’d hate for you to miss—”
“Madelyn, I’ve made my choice.” His tone was deep and smooth. And final.
I dropped my gaze to the ice in my glass.
Another deep breath and I met his eyes. “I think you should reconsider.”
He reached out and settled his hand over mine. “I’ve made my choice.”
I swallowed back the tears brewing and looked away.
His hand remained warm against my skin.
A profile flittered into my lap.
I focused on the name, expecting Barbara Greeley, but was met by another.
Mine.
My head bounced up. “How did you—?”
“Adele gave it to me the day we met.” His hand tightened over mine. “When you arrived…when I met you, I thought my heart would burst, but then I realized you knew nothing of your grandmother’s desire for us to meet as a potential match.”
“You could have…” I started, but he shook his head.
“I wanted to get to know you, and I wanted you to get to know me. I felt the chemistry between us and hoped you would too. Profiles and matches are all very well, but I didn’t want a computer program to sway your opinion one way or the other.”
Peter reached out and touched my cheek. “I’m twenty-five years older than you, Madelyn. You have to be okay with that.”
I nodded slowly. With another man, our age difference would’ve concerned me, but not Peter. “I still can’t believe you’re over fifty. You’re so youthful you make me feel old.”
He laughed. “We have Belinda to thank for that. She gave me a second chance.”
“But you stuck with it — the diet, the yoga, the running.”
“It seems that good can spring from the ashes of tragedy,” he said on a sigh. “Belinda wanted me to have a second run at life. She knew how much I loved her and feared my happiness would end with her loss. She was a fighter, and she helped make me a fighter, too.”
My eyes grew teary at the thought of his loss and the love they’d shared. “I want to know all about her.”
“You will. But first, we need some time to get to know each other.” He pulled me to my feet, held me at the waist and touched his lips to mine.
Sweet temptation. And it wasn’t enough.
I circled my arms around his neck and kissed him greedily. Our tongues tangled. He pulled me against his chest, hands wandering up my back and down again, then settling on the curves of my hips.
“Do you need to be anywhere tonight?” he murmured, lips brushing my ear.
“My only needs tonight involve you,” I whispered, fighting a smile.
His chest shook as he chuckled, sending a warm shudder into mine.
“I want to take you out,” he said. “There’s a place in the North End.”
“Raw vegan?”
“Yes. Would you like to try it? Their fettuccini zucchini rivals the real thing.” His pale eyes sparkled like diamonds.
“I’m game to try anything you recommend,” I flirted back.
A growing smile sank dimples into his cheeks. “My dear, we have a lot of ground to cover.” His words brushed the edge of my mouth as he pressed his lips against mine. I savored their sweetness and the hint of lemon from the tea.
Those soft lips captured my breath and carried it away as they drifted across my skin.
The temperature rose in the space between us, and the warm air mingled our scents.
His jaw was smooth beneath my exploring fingers. The fresh smell of soap from his skin was like a drug. As I breathed him in, my mind rode the air currents down Boylston, back to the yoga room with its promise of heat and drenching sweat.
The memory of his body — muscles taut and skin laced in a seductive mist — was all it took to raise my heart rate. With his form arched into a standing bow, he could have been Eros born from the heavens.
I wondered what it would be like to make love up in the clouds.