Sweet On You

chapter Seven



Shifting to get comfortable on the stiff Victorian-style chair, Marley looked around the subterranean office and wondered how she got herself talked into this.

"I'm almost ready," Valentine said. She sat in a similar chair, across a glass-top table, looking right at home as she tapped at her phone. "Then we'll find the perfect man for you."

Marley had already found the perfect man—Antonio Rossi. He was everything a man should be: loyal, successful, and strong. Maybe Valentine could set her up with him.

As if he'd agree to be set up. He was as difficult as his sister.

She thought of Daniela and her stomach burned, like stress was eating a hole in it. Of course, it was possible she'd just had too much coffee today.

No—Marley shook her head—it was the stress in dealing with her boss that was disrupting her system. Daniela had sequestered herself away in her room for days, obviously plotting something big. When she did emerge from behind her locked door, she had a dreamy-but-determined look that put fear in Marley's heart.

That look never boded well for anyone. She'd spent the morning making a list of what Daniela could be plotting, and none of it had been good. It'd finally driven her out of the house and straight to Valentine's, for respite.

She sighed and looked longingly at the door. The office was small—one lunge and she'd be outside. It was partly underground, but the long window along the sidewalk let in a lot of light. Of course, the brightness of the space may have been due to the gilded furnishings and mirrored surfaces all over the room.

It made for an uncomfortable setting. Marley wasn't a creature of the light. She much preferred the shadows. "Valentine, maybe this wasn't a good idea."

"Honestly, Marley? You're doing me a huge favor. Really." Valentine leaned forward. "I haven't matched anyone since I opened up my shop. If I could just have one success story, then I'd attract more business."

"I know, but—"

"It's Christmas time and you just moved to the city," Valentine continued. "Aren't you lonely? This is the best time of year to start a meaningful relationship."

"Yes, but—"

"I won't charge you for this," Valentine interjected.

Marley couldn't help smiling. "You're determined."

"Yes."

She'd already met the man she wanted, but the desperate look in the other woman's eyes made her sigh. "I only have to go on one date?"

"Yes."

She sighed again. "Okay."

"You aren't going to bolt?"

"No."

The relief on Valentine's face was almost comical. "Thank you. Let's get started so we can get you out of here. I just need to pull up a fresh questionnaire for you."

Marley watched her, fascinated. "You do this on your phone?"

"I don't like having a big monitor between me and my clients, so I created an app to use."

"Really?" she said, impressed.

"It was no big deal. It creates more intimacy this way." The matchmaker flushed, her pale red-head's skin looking painfully red. She lowered her head to study the screen. "So what's your sign?"

"Seriously?" Marley frowned. "That's how you're going to pick Mr. Perfect for me?"

"Once you see how genius I am at this you won't mock my methods. But, fine, next question." She typed something into her computer and then asked, "How many children do you want?"

"I haven't thought about it."

"What? How can that be true?

Because she had no idea what Tony thought about it, and she was open to the possibilities. "I was an only child. I don't know how I feel about children."

Shaking her head, Valentine tapped at her phone, a frenzy of thumbs. The mirror behind her reflected the back of her head, adding a halo around her red hair, making her look like a fiercely focused Madonna who liked her electronic device.

Without thought Marley pulled out her iPhone, opened her camera function, and began snapping pictures. It wasn't as good as her Nikon digital SLR. But with some manipulation her phone still took great pictures, and she had it with her all the time.

Valentine glanced up. "Photo op time?"

"Sorry." She took another picture. "I can't help myself."

"I don't mind. I can even strike a pose for you if you want." She grinned crookedly.

Marley couldn't resist taking one more. That was the one—the light was perfect and Valentine's personality would shine through the flat image. She tucked the phone away. "I'll give you a copy of that last one."

"So you like to take pictures?" Valentine asked with the interest of a scientist.

"It's just a hobby I picked up a long time ago."

"The look on your face as you were taking pictures of me suggested otherwise."

"What look on my face?" she asked cautiously.

"Total concentration. You were utterly engrossed. You obviously feel passionate about it."

She shrugged. "It's just what I do."

"What else are you passionate about?"

"Comics," she said without thinking. She blushed at the startled way Valentine stared at her. "I know. It's a geeky thing, but I can't help it. The characters are so great."

"Comics." The matchmaker's lips pursed. "Okay, I think I have enough to go on to find you the perfect man."

A niggle of nervousness jangled her stomach. She pressed a hand to her middle. "I don't know about this. I'm not good at dating."

"You just need practice, and you're in luck. I give lessons. All part of the service." She stood up. "I'm going to go through my database of possible matches. I'll have the man I choose call you."

Marley stood up slowly, having second, third, and fourth thoughts about what she'd agreed to. "Just one date. That's all I promised."

"That's all I'll need," Valentine said with her crooked grin. She turned and held the door open for Marley. "Talk to you soon. Real soon."

Marley shook her head and mumbled to herself. "Why did that sound like a threat?"

She hurried home, trying to put her meeting with Valentine out of her mind. She needed to focus on Daniela and convincing her to take the Food Network gig.

But all afternoon, she couldn't realign her thoughts. She kept thinking about the impending date and feeling guilty about it.

It felt like she was cheating on Tony.

Which was absolutely ridiculous. She knew it. It wasn't like Antonio Rossi even realized she was alive—yet—but she still felt like she was doing something wrong. Even the Justice League seemed to be looking at her in reproach.

Finally, she decided to take a break from work. Twenty minutes in the sauna and she'd be clearheaded again.

In her bedroom, she undressed. Grabbing a towel from the bathroom, she wrapped it around herself and toed on her slippers before padding down the hallway.

Her phone rang as she let herself into her private spa, as she liked to call it. She answered it, even though she didn't recognize the number.

"Is this Marley?" a man's voice asked.

Turning on the sauna to let it heat, she got ready to brush off the marketing call. "Who is this please?"

"My name is Brian Benedict. Valentine gave me your number and instructed me to call."

Sigh. She hadn't expected someone to call to soon. But she promised one date—she could do this. "Fine. When do you want to do this?"

There was a silence on the line. "You don't sound enthusiastic about meeting me. What if I'm the man of your dreams?"

She snorted as she tested the room. Not warm enough yet. "I think we both know that the chances of the two of us being the right one for each other is really small."

"I don't know any such thing," he replied, sounding as though he were suddenly paying attention.

"Great, now I've intrigued you." She kicked off her slippers. "This isn't a challenge."

He chuckled. "Marley, you definitely sound like a challenge."

"Look, why don't we set up the date? Then I can prove to you aren't interested in me, and we can both move on."

"What are you doing right now?"

"Excuse me?"

"Now. Meet me."

"But it's only"—she held her phone away for a second to look at the time—"four in the afternoon. Don't you have a job?"

"I work from home. Valentine said you did too. You're in Laurel Heights, right? I'll come over."

She looked down at the boob her falling towel exposed. "You can't come over."

"Why not?"

"I'm indecent."

"That's okay, Marley. I won't judge."

"No. I mean I'm not dressed. I was about to step into the sauna."

"Then warm up and meet me. There's that coffee shop Valentine likes, close to her office. What's it called?"

"Grounds for Thought."

"I'll meet you there in half an hour." He paused. "Don't stand me up, Marley."

In his pause, she heard a smile. But she shook her head vehemently. "Brian, I—"

But he already hung up.

She looked at her caller ID, to call him back, but it was a restricted number. She shook her fist at the phone, grumbling, and turned the sauna back off. Apparently she had a date to get dressed for.





She stomped into Grounds for Thought and glared at all the patrons.

One man sitting alone in the corner grinned at her. He winked from behind geeky glasses that were oddly attractive. His hair was messy, like he was a couple weeks overdue for a haircut. He wore jeans and a plaid long-sleeve shirt.

And red Converse shoes.

Valentine had set her up with an older Peter Parker.

Marley shook her head, trying to clear the sudden daydreams of flying through the sky with him on his web. This guy was not Spiderman or anything like him. He was some random man who needed to use a dating service—that was it.

Steeling herself, she stormed toward him. "Brian Benedict?"

"I can tell by your charming demeanor you're Marley." He stood up and took her hand, which she hadn't offered. "The pleasure is obviously only mine."

She would not be charmed by him. She withdrew her hand and plopped inelegantly onto the chair across from him. "Let's get this over with."

He grinned. "Tell me how you really feel about meeting up with me, Marley."

She stifled the beginning of a smile. It'd be really inconvenient to like him. Besides, he seemed like a nice guy, and she didn't want to lead him on. "Look, I need to be honest with you. I'm doing this as a favor to Valentine. I'm not looking for anyone. I've already met the man for me."

"Where is he?"

She blinked, surprised by the question. "Excuse me?"

"Where is he?" Brian craned his neck, looking over and around her. "Is he going to storm in here and kick my ass?"

"Of course not. He's in New York."

"Then why are you here?"

She shook her head. "I don't understand what you're after."

"And I don't get how you could be dating someone on the other side of the country. It'd make kissing really difficult."

"Tony's never kissed me." Her eyes widened as she realized what she admitted. "I mean, he and I aren't dating, per se."

"Ah."

That one utterance was loaded with meaning. She narrowed her eyes at him. "What does that mean?"

"It means I'm going to buy you coffee." He stood up. "And maybe a treat?"

"No treat."

Grinning, he touched her shoulder as he walked by.

It should have been an inconsequential, glancing touch that meant nothing, but for some reason she got a jolt from it. She was still pondering the residual shockwaves when he returned.

He set a double espresso in front of her. "The barista said you'd like this."

She stared at the little cup, oddly off balance.

"And I brought a cookie to share." He slid the plate toward her. "I hope you like chocolate chip. I couldn't resist."

Because she didn't know what to say, she lifted her cup and took a sip. She closed her eyes, it was so delicious going down.

When she reopened her eyes, Brian was staring at her. She glared at him to cover up her discomfort. "What?"

He shook his head. "Tell me about your true love."

"My who?"

"The guy in New York who you're saving yourself for. What's he like?"

"Why?"

"I want to know what I'm up against."

She shook her head. "You're not up against anything. In any case, I'm not dating him yet."

"Is he married?"

"No."

"He has a girlfriend?"

"No." Not that she knew of. At least, no one serious.

Brian nodded, sitting back, legs crossed so his red Converse were in her view. "Then he's either a player or a hermit."

"He's not a hermit." Antonio Rossi did like women—plural—but she was too loyal to call him a player. "He just hasn't found the right woman yet."

"Hmm."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I question his sanity if he can't recognize a great woman, especially right in front of him."

"Do you mean me?"

He rolled his eyes. "Who else would I mean?"

"Why would you say that?" She wrinkled her nose. "I've been awful to you since I walked in here, and you're complimenting me like you mean it."

"I do mean it." He lifted his coffee cup to his mouth, his gaze steady on hers. "I've been in your presence for ten minutes, and I can tell, while not the most charming lady, you're loyal, passionate, and caring."

"How can you tell that?"

"Loyal." He held up a finger. "You're not dating this guy, who, incidentally, doesn't deserve you, and you feel compelled not to cheat on him."

"I—"

"Two," Brian said loudly, over her, holding up a second finger. "You drank your espresso like it was nectar from the gods. For a second I thought you were going to orgasm right here. Not that I'd have had a problem with that."

She frowned to keep from smiling. "And three?"

"Caring." He held out half the cookie to her. "You cared enough about me, a stranger, to warn me away from you. You didn't want to break my heart. That's sweet."

"I'm not sweet."

"No, Marley, you really aren't. You're more like dark chocolate, bittersweet and murky." He leaned forward, his eyes glinting with mischief. "But I love chocolate."

She would not like him, she told herself. "Back off, Brian Benedict."

"Not a chance. Not even your clothing can scare me away."

The determination in his eyes sent shivers up her spine—shivers of anticipation, she realized with surprise.

Then she registered what he said. "What's wrong with my clothing?" she asked indignantly. Her outfit was from Ann Taylor.

"You're dressed like an undertaker."

"I am not. Black is chic."

"If you're the Black Widow."

"Batman wore black," she pointed out. "And Batman is cool."

"Batman lurks in the shadows."

"You say that as if it's a bad thing."

"Maybe it's time to step out of the shadows, Marley." Brian Benedict stood, settling his glasses higher on his nose. "Maybe it's your time to shine."

Before she could reply, he touched her shoulder again, smiled, and left the café.

She sat, dumbfounded, staring after him. She put her hand on the spot he'd touch, feeling the pressure through the layers of her clothes. Feeling like the foundation of her world had somehow just shifted.