He didn’t like not knowing what was going to happen. He was most at ease when things were tediously planned, with everyone understanding their roles with intense detail. He wondered if Gerri had intuited that about him.
“You know that my other job is matchmaker, right?” she said.
Devlin couldn't hold in his contemptuous laugh, sounding like a villain as he remained draped in the gloom. “I’m sorry,” he said, finishing off his chuckle. “But do you really think someone like me needs a matchmaker? Are you serious, Gerri?”
Gerri did not laugh. She merely finished her wine and called over a server with a polite wave of her hand. “Have another drink with me and think it over,” her dusky voice suggested.
Devlin watched as a young woman came over and took their orders, but Gerri knew what his go-to poison was. He gave the server a once over, but, like usual, he didn’t find her very interesting beyond her body ... which most guys would be interested in.
Gerri caught him, somehow, even though he was still hidden. “Do you like her?”
“Hmm?”
“The server,” Gerri said, leaning forward. “Is she the kind of woman you would go home with on a night like tonight?”
The painful truth was that Gerri was both right and wrong at the same time. Devlin had his handful of flings and could easily pick out any woman in any room with whom he wanted to spend a single night of bliss with. His mysterious personality, good looks, and wealth allowed him that.
But he hadn’t felt the energy to lately. He wondered if he was getting too old for the chase, finding that he would lose interest quickly after the conquest. So he had kept to himself and his work, forgetting about the prospect altogether.
“What kind of woman would that be?” Devlin responded, trying to remain cool.
“A woman with an entire treasure chest of wonders that are her mind, spirit, and body,” she said before the server returned. “Getting to know someone is a lot like that, but something tells me that you haven’t been afforded that luxury, have you?”
Devlin sat in the dark, stunned and a little bit pissed off. He had the urge to storm out of the room, but that wouldn’t look good for him or for Gerri. That wasn’t the first time that she had penetrated his cold exterior with a truth that felt like a dagger to the flesh.
The server had brought their beverages, offered them a smile, then departed. Devlin decided to switch seats, moving to the chair directly in front of the fire, facing Gerri head-on.
He stared her down for a moment, but she did not back away. That was what he liked about her. One of her many attributes.
“Land the plane, Gerri,” Devlin snarled.
She played with the stem of her new wine glass as she sighed. “That suit is tailored, no doubt, a three-piece Italian vintage, one of a kind. You have the shoes custom made, a sports car line of over a hundred makes, a condo, and a mansion … but you don’t have your mate.”
“That doesn’t sound like landing the plane, Gerri.”
“I’m getting to it,” she snarled back at him, cocking an eyebrow as she spun the glass in front of the fire. “Material objects are very easy for you to obtain, that is clear. But what you can’t and haven’t been able to obtain, I can help you with. That is what I am offering you, free of charge.”
Devlin picked up his own glass, staring at the amber fluid with licks of tangerine blazes coursing through the background. He knew that Gerri was a matchmaker and that her track record for matching shifters with their mates was utterly flawless. But giving in meant letting himself be exposed and, likely, let down by yet another woman who didn’t pique his interest.
He leaned in and looked up at her from the glass, finding her eyes glistening. They were very encouraging, the way a mother’s look might be when attempting to inject courage into her own child.
He downed the scotch again, strained his throat, then shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m letting you talk me into this,” he groaned.
Gerri’s smile grew, and she held up the wine glass in front of her face. “I promise you, Devlin, that you are not going to regret this.”
Devlin gave her a half-hearted smile, then asked the server for another glass of Johnny Walker. They sat and chatted for another hour about business ongoings, but at the back of his mind was that perpetual hope that maybe, just maybe, Gerri might know someone that would fit into his life like a puzzle piece.
It was a dim hope that he rarely allowed himself to possess. Devlin had been let down tremendously when it came to relationships and friends, leaving him with a bitterness that very few people who knew him well could stand. He understood that about himself, which made the idea of meeting someone even more dreadful.
He returned, a little tipsy, to his lodge that night after most of the guests had departed. He’d done the appropriate amount of socializing and was satisfied with how the event had gone. He undressed and stood in the shower, the hot water streaming over his chilled skin from the walk from the chalet.
Devlin’s mind drifted to the idea of the mysterious woman who would come into his life. He thought about having someone in the shower with him, in bed with him, constantly making love and getting drunk on each other’s kaleidoscopic essences.
It all sounded too much like a fairy tale, so Devlin tried to push the thought away for the night.
He slept as soundly as usual, getting up the next day with thoughts about his work and hope. Gerri had planted the idea of a sweet woman in his mind, and he was subconsciously cultivating it during the quieter moments of travel and settling in back at home.
Was it so wrong for him to want to believe that something as magical as love could happen to him? Was it so childish that he couldn’t even dare approach the notion?