A Match Made in Mystery (2 page)

Amy closed the door and threw all three locks, knowing full well that the locks hadn’t stopped the thieves who’d broken in and stolen her stuff and surely wouldn’t be a deterrent to whoever’d done this to Diego. She cleared her throat, endeavoring to sound calm as she asked, “You want me to call 9-1-1?”

“As if,” he teased weakly.

Shaking her head, Amy moved to her bathroom, snagging the first aid kit she kept under the sink before joining him in the kitchen.

She got a better look at him under the glare of the fluorescent lighting. His T-shirt was dirty, the collar torn. His lower lip was swollen and there was a trace of blood smeared across his chin. A nasty-looking bump bloomed over his eyebrow.

“What happened?” She put the kit down on the vinyl tablecloth-covered bridge table that served as her dining area and went to the freezer.

“Classified.” Diego fumbled with the latch on the kit.

Amy shot him a dirty look. He never talked about his job, telling her it was safer for her not to know, but she knew it was dangerous. Too dangerous. Twisting and cracking the ice cube tray, she spilled blocks of ice into a clean dishtowel with undue vigor and thrust the combination at Diego.

He took the improvised ice pack from her and pressed it against the knot on his forehead, a move that revealed a long cut slicing down his forearm.

She took a minute to wash her hands, using the time to compose herself as the shock of his sudden appearance wore off.  She turned back to him. “You look like hell.”

“It looks worse than it is.”

“That’s what you always say.”

He did his best to grin at her, a maneuver that was normally charming, but now just looked painful.

She stuck her tongue out at him and then opened the first aid kit.

He chuckled. “You look tired, Amy.”

“Don’t try to make it like
I
’
m
the one with a problem here.” She pulled out an antiseptic wipe and tore the foil open, the sharp scent filling the air.  “You’re the one who shows up after a month of no contact looking like you’ve gone a couple rounds with Rocky Balboa.”

“You think I could last multiple rounds with Rocky? I’m touched.”

“I think you’re dumb enough to try.” Flicking the wipe open, she moved it toward his injured arm.  “Ready?”

He nodded. “I’m sorry about being out of touch.” The last word came out as a pained hiss as she swiped the wound with antiseptic.  “But you know if you ever need me, you can call that number.”

Six months earlier he’d programmed what he called a “secure” number into her phone if she needed to get in touch with him in case of an emergency. She’d never called the number. She didn’t even know who would answer if she did.

Amy wiped away the dried blood. “This isn’t too deep, but you should cover it.”  She reached for a roll of white gauze.

Leaning forward, Diego grabbed her hand, stopping her. “Seriously, what’s wrong?”

She looked from his hand covering hers to his dark eyes, fringed by impossibly thick lashes, and saw the concern shimmering there. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”

He squeezed her hand gently, then released her. “You’ve been working extra shifts at the hospital.”

She plucked the gauze out of the case and unwound a bit. “Is that an educated guess?”

He shook his head. “Just because you don’t know where I was doesn’t mean I don’t know where you were.”

A painful lump rose in her throat. She’d been feeling so alone in the world, especially after Aunt Bea’s passing, that she’d forgotten that Diego was always there for her.  She wrapped his arm in silence, not trusting herself to speak.

When she was done, Diego asked, “What’s with all the time you’ve spent at the restaurant?”

She shrugged. “Adrian’s needed extra help.”

He snorted his disbelief.

“He’s been short-handed since Bea…” She couldn’t bring herself to say “died.”
“Since Bea’s accident.”

“Because people don’t want to work for him since he’s such a jerk. That doesn’t mean you have to pick up the slack.”

Amy focused on closing up the first aid case.  “She wanted me to.”

“Bea was a great lady, but she wasn’t perfect. She had a blind spot where Adrian was concerned. You’re not obligated to continue her bad choices.”

Even though she knew in her heart he was right, she still sniped. “You’re not one to talk about bad choices.”

Chastised, Diego sank back in his seat. Pippin immediately jumped into his lap and began purring loudly.

“At least someone’s glad to see me,” he teased lightly, stroking the cat.

Feeling guilty, Amy muttered, “I’m glad to see you. I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t want to fight.”

“You got any aspirin?’

She frowned. “If you’ve got internal bleeding…”

“Okay, okay.” He raised his hands in surrender. “No aspirin. Can I have the bed?”

Amy glanced longingly at the spot she’d tried to nap in not long before. “Sure. Just watch out for the bat.”

Brady pulled his Lexus into the parking lot and eyed the
restaurant dubiously. 
The faded awning that stretched above
the front door said
Busy Bea
’
s
,
which meant he was at the right place.

Shaking his head, wondering what Eric had gotten him into this time, Brady pulled into the nearest parking spot. It was easy to find one. Despite its name, the place wasn’t particularly busy, especially considering the sun was setting and it was officially Saturday night.

Climbing out of the car, he tried not to stare at the homeless man pushing a shopping cart loaded with who knew what past the parking lot’s entrance. Feeling self-conscious in his custom-tailored suit and Italian shoes, Brady locked the car and hurried inside.

Allowing his eyes to adjust to the murky darkness, he paused. The scent of garlic and onion tickled his nose and his stomach growled in response. He’d worked through lunch and realized he was ravenous. He looked around, but didn’t see anyone.

Suddenly, a young woman carrying an oversized basket filled with flatware wrapped in napkins, rounded the corner, almost running into him.

She stopped just short of a head-on collision. “Sorry,” she apologized breathlessly. Her dark-eyed gaze narrowed as she looked him up and down.

He fought the urge to straighten his tie, even though she was the one wearing a hairnet and dirty apron.

She tilted her head to the right. “They’re in the back.”

Before he could ask her how she knew who he was looking for, she barreled away, lugging the basket with her.

Shrugging, he walked in the direction she’d indicated.  Rounding the corner, he heard a distinctive laugh and he relaxed a little, knowing he was in the right place after all.

“Brady!” Eric shouted as soon as he spotted him. “We were getting worried you weren’t going to make it.”

The other three men seated at the round table didn’t even bother to interrupt their conversation to acknowledge his arrival.

Pasting on a professional smile for the benefit of the other men, Brady ignored his co-worker’s subtle dig.  His job was hard enough at the moment without getting into a pissing match with Eric in front of one of their biggest clients. “I’m here.” He glanced at his watch. “And I’m five minutes early.”

“Oh, did I forget to tell you the meeting was moved a half hour earlier?”  Eric smirked.

“I guess so,” Brady said, even though he knew the
oversight
was intentional.

“No harm done,” Keith Hasburgh assured him, waving Brady over to sit in the empty seat opposite him.

Brady wasn’t sure whether it was amusement or annoyance glinting in the older man’s eyes.

“We were just discussing Junior Willen’s ideas for the merger,” Hasburgh said.

Out of the corner of his eye, Brady saw Eric stiffen.  By calling him Junior, Hasburgh had made it clear that he wasn’t pleased that his business was being handled by Eric and not by his father, Milton.

“Mr. Sears,” Hasburgh continued, nodding toward one of his vice presidents, “thinks the plan is a good one.  Mr. Schneider is not convinced.”

The other man shrugged.

Brady tensed, knowing where the conversation was headed.

“So what I want to know, Brady, is what do you think?”  Hasburgh stared at him, an unspoken challenge shooting across the table.

Brady did his best to meet the old man’s gaze levelly while he tried to figure out what to do. If he confessed that he had no idea what Eric’s plan was, he risked two things. One, that he’d look unprepared. Two, that the firm looked incompetent.

While he had no doubts that Eric had engineered this whole thing to make him look like an idiot, Brady was pretty sure he hadn’t considered that Michelman, Willen and Willen could lose the business of Hasburgh Industries. While Brady had no love for Eric, he did owe his father, Milton, a great deal.

After all, the man had loaned him a sizeable amount of tuition money for law school with the understanding that it was an interest-free loan. Brady was only responsible for paying back the principal as long as he worked for Milton’s firm when he graduated.

Despite his family’s objections, really those of his mother, Brady had happily taken the deal and still thought it was the best decision he’d ever made.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Out of nowhere, the woman he’d encountered earlier popped up at his elbow, giving him the perfect excuse to look away from Keith Hasburgh and compose his thoughts.

Brady looked up at her. She’d lost her hairnet and apron, but not her sharp-eyed gaze. “Um…”

“I’ll have another martini, darling,” Eric interrupted. “I like it extra dirty.” He winked at her for emphasis.

The waitress gave him a hard stare like he was a bug she’d like to crush under her shoe. “Extra dirty martini,” she parroted back flatly. “Anyone else?”

Hasburgh’s men declined.

Hasburgh requested, “Another Bud.”

His choice brought the trace of a smile to Brady’s lips. Hasburgh was a working man who’d built his company from the ground up. There was no pretense about him. Brady suddenly knew that as long as he answered his question about Eric’s plan without pretense, Hasburgh would accept his reply.

Buoyed by the knowledge, Brady playfully asked, “I don’t suppose you have a purple people eater on the menu, do you?”

The waitress shook her head.

“Well then—”

“But I can get you one,” she interrupted before hurrying away.

Brady blinked, stunned.

Keith Hasburgh chuckled. “Takes a real man to order one of those.”

Brady shook his head.  “I didn’t really think I’d get one. That’s the third time I’ve asked for one this week and I was turned down cold the other two times.”

“And yet you kept asking,” Hasburgh murmured thoughtfully. “Mind if I ask why?”

“This is going to sound really… um… bizarre, but this woman, this psychic matchmaker, told me to ask for one.”

“Wow,” Eric mocked, “you’re so desperate for a date you’ve resorted to using a matchmaker?”

“I. No.” Brady clamped his mouth shut, realizing he’d lost all control over the situation. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to blow the Hasburgh deal all on his own, without any help from Eric.

“Is she any good?” Hasburgh asked. “This psychic of yours?”

Brady shrugged helplessly. “She set up a friend of mine and he just got married.”

Hasburgh nodded thoughtfully. “Interesting. My daughter needs all the help she can get.”

“I’d date her,” Eric offered.

Brady barely swallowed a groan. Hadn’t Eric realized by now that Keith Hasburgh was not a man to be amused by his cheap attempts at humor?

Keith glared at the kiss-ass.

Eric squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. “Sorry. Bad joke.”

The older man returned his attention to Brady. “You’ll have to get me her card.”

“I don’t have her card. I’m not sure she’s got one, but I can get you her contact information.”

“Sooner rather than later,” Hasburgh ordered. “I want to become a grandfather while my ticker’s still ticking.”

Brady nodded. “It’ll take a couple of days. That’s when Tom and Jane, my friends, will be back from their honeymoon.”

“Fair enough. Now tell me, what do you think of Eric’s plan?”

“I’m not familiar enough with it to give you an educated answer,” Brady replied smoothly.

“One Budweiser and one purple people eater,” a woman’s voice trilled cheerily.

Brady glanced up, ready to thank the waitress. Nothing came out. Instead of the brunette, mousy woman with the sharp gaze who’d taken his order, this waitress was a platinum blonde whose physical assets were barely restrained by her uniform.  Neither of the women were his type. What had Armani been thinking?

“I’ll take the Bud.” Hasburgh pointed at Brady. “He’ll take the purple.”

The new waitress, Ann, according to her gold and black nametag, put the beer in front of Keith and a bright purple cocktail in front of Brady. “There you go. Anything else?”

“Not right now,” Hasburgh told her. After she left, he stared at Brady’s drink.  “I knew a lady once who loved those things.”

Brady didn’t miss the note of longing that crept into the older man’s tone. He wondered who the woman was and what she’d meant to him, but he didn’t dare ask.

As though he realized he’d succumbed to nostalgia, Keith cleared his throat, and said gruffly, “Tell me why you don’t know about Junior’s plan.”

Brady considered taking a fortifying sip from the strangely colored cocktail, but thought better of it. It was going to be a long night.

It had been a long day.

Eyes heavy, Amy trudged up the stairs toward her apartment, intent on taking a nap. Helping Adrian out at the restaurant the night before had meant she hadn’t had a day off in two weeks.

Diego had been right about one thing, she had been working a lot of extra shifts at the hospital, partially because she needed the cash and partially because they were short-staffed.