Chapter 1 : Part 5

Miss Match
by Leslie Carroll

(Page 5 of 5)

Kathryn let out a warm laugh. She enjoyed his sense of humor. "The Hart Monitor," she said, letting the syllables roll over her tongue. "That's a very clever name for your newsletter."

"Many thanks. I have to admit it's much better than what I'd originally come up with, under the circumstances."

"Which is . . . ?"

"Bear Market." He switched gears, knowing he'd hooked his audience. "By the way, you said you liked Welsh accents on your tape. Were you kidding?"

"Only partially. They have a lilt to them that's really sexy. Why?"

"Then you and my mother have a lot in common."

"Oh God, I hope not. I mean, I'm sorry - here I am going to town on your mother, for God's sake. You can't be that cavalier about her. That is the woman who gave birth to you."

Walker leaned back in his chair and changed the subject. "As a matter of fact, she went to Wales a couple of months ago on a whirlwind honeymoon with one of her own clients: a Frenchman at least twenty years her junior. Ludovic de Tournay. But she's always fancied Welshmen."

"Poor Ludovic."

"No. Poor Mom. Actually, it turned out that Ludo preferred Welshmen, too. But it all worked out. He found one named Rhys, and Mom found one who looked like Richard Burton in his Camelot days. So Rushie - my mother - got the marriage to Ludovic annulled and now she's living out her King Arthur fantasy with the Burton clone. She used to marry them all because she loved parties, but then she went through a spate where she decided she was getting too old for divorces. They depressed her too much. She just believes in happily ever after. Sort of like you, Kitty."

"That's a terrifying comparison. It's pretty interesting to me, though, that the apple didn't just fall far from the tree - it fell into another galaxy. She marries everyone and you don't want to marry anyone."

"Yup, that's me. 'A confirmed old bachelor, and likely to remain so,' my fair lady."

Cute, Kathryn thought. She smiled to herself.

"And if I hadn't been that way to start with, the matchmaking business would have done it to me," Walker continued. "All these people out there scrambling to make connections."

"So you figured you might as well cash in on our feeble attempts to live happily ever after?"

"No. I figured I wouldn't let the business my mother built with hope and love go into Chapter Eleven just because I'm a cynic."

"Bah, humbug to you, too."

"I didn't say I don't believe in love. I just don't believe in marriage. But this conversation isn't about me."

"Could've fooled me."

"You're the client. My ambition is to see that you find the man of your dreams and live happily ever after. Especially since I already cashed your checks. Would your sister be interested in deriving any pleasure from Six in the City?"

"I hope not, for her sake. Ellie's been married to a plastic surgeon for five years, has a marvelously precocious daughter who is two and a half going on thirty-five, and another kid on the way."

Kathryn shouldered her purse and extended her hand, mostly because she wanted to see if she would have the same sensation the second time around, when they shook hands. "Well, Bear," she said with a cocky grin, "I'm pretty skeptical that Six in the City can live up to its claims as advertised. But I'm the kind of woman who takes dares, so I'll see this through if only so I never have to hear your mother nag me again on the elevator."

"Don't worry, Kitty Lamb. I'm the kind of man who doesn't like to lose." He rose from his chair and went to meet her, but instead of rounding the curve of his desk top, he ended up trying to walk through it, halted midstep by the thump of mahogany against flesh. "Ouch! Damn!"

"Does your thigh hurt?" Kathryn asked solicitously. She checked her impulse to reach out and tenderly touch the affected area through his chinos.

"I'm just a big doofus, that's all," Walker said. He was clearly embarrassed. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Lamb," he added, offering his right hand.

For some reason neither of them seemed eager to relinquish their mutual grip.

"Well," Kathryn said, slightly out of breath.

"Well," Walker responded, an awkward catch in his throat. "Keep me posted."

She turned on her heels and left his office with an oddly buoyant sort of confidence, her reddish curls bouncing across the center of her back, her backside swaying seductively in those impossibly tight jeans.

Walker felt a bit of constriction in his own trousers as he watched her leave. Too bad she's here to find a husband, he mused, as he stroked his jaw, realizing that he'd forgotten to shave that morning.

Kathryn considered looking back to catch another glimpse of Walker Hart, or even returning to his office on the pretext of having forgotten something, like an umbrella; but it wasn't raining, and she couldn't think of another excuse before the elevator arrived. Curiouser and curiouser. Too bad he has no interest in a wife, she thought ruefully, as she descended toward the street.

Copyright © 2002 by Leslie Carroll.

About the Author

Native New Yorker Leslie Carroll is a professional actress as well as a novelist. She has appeared on stage, in short films, daytime dramas, and commercials, and has done voiceovers and talking books. She is the author of Miss Match. Leslie also writes historical and New York noir detective fiction, and is the author of three stage adaptations of nineteenth century/early twentieth century English novels: Ivanhoe, The Prisoner of Zenda, and The Scarlet Pimpernel.